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holylottie · 3 months

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aching bones, aching teeth

masterlist [and warnings!]

PAIRING — Lottie Matthews x afab!reader

CHAPTER SINOPSIS — It's 2021, you try to take a grip of your life just like Lottie the past has taken a grip on your heart.

NOTE — english is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you might find. Please go read the tw's first! Thank you for reading :)

Chapter 01 — no spotlight shine as bright as her

2021

1, 2, 3, 4…

Your feet were aching.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, seeing you in a pretty leotard and flowy skirt, your ballet shoes leaking blood, staining your white tights like a sinner walking into heaven.

You were completely focused on the dance, watching every step with so much care that it was almost driving you into madness. You didn’t even blink, and your eyes were already swollen because of the lack of lubrication.

The song was fast, making you spin and spin around, dizzy and almost fainting, but that’s just how you always lived? on almost’s.

Your concentration couldn’t even be broken by the creatures showing up in the mirror. It was almost a copy of yourself, but with no face, a hair so long you couldn't see the end of it and always, always walking slowly, yet screaming louder and louder as she got farther and farther.

The lamuring lady — as you had used to call her (maybe thinking that naming something would give you power over it) — would drop thousands of teeth every time she opened her mouth to scream.

You got used to the sound, to her terrifying looks and behavior, however you could never look directly into her eyes.

They were the same as Lottie’s — and it was long ago since you've seen it.

As you expected it (but hoped it didn’t) everything changed after the rescue. Weirdly enough, you've felt more lost on your way back home than in the woods.

You never used the money. Perhaps it was a way to ensure a good future for yourself, to always have a big amount for emergencies or, perhaps, it was your way of hanging onto a piece of the past, of having a part of it to hold onto. Your fingernails were always bloody from the amount of strength you had to make to hold onto what you liked — so was your tongue, from how much you bit it.

5,6,7,8…

Your leg goes high, your bloody foot very close to your face, then you lower it, jumping in elegant hops around the rehearsal room.

You go to the left, count to three, to the other side, count to three, but when you put your leg to the side and spin, you count to two.

Once you finish it, breathing heavily, panting with your hip injury aching, you make the mistake of looking at the mirror.

Her eyes, Lottie's eyes, burn your skin and you discover a fifth heel —the one where you cannot look at those orbs eternally, the one you live.

You hated to be alone at your house.

There wasn't much to it, it wasn't lavish or too eccentric, it was just filled with paint brushes, partitures and broken ballerina shoes on the floor, it was like entering an artist’s mind: I made this and it feels, i made this and I have to bare the anger and godhood of creation.

You always thought you were over it, that you were truly healing — until you stared at your paintings and your dance routine and you realized every movement you make, either with your foot or brush, was following the same pattern, the same symbol.

You look at your reflection in the mirror and wonder if being perceived by others is less terrifying than being known as one's own. You wish you could take a vacation from your body and mind as you turn the tv on and scroll the channels, looking for something to make you forget your problems for a bit.

Except it only worsens the problem once you see Taissa on the tv.

You stare at the commercial immobilized, like you were just put on hold.

You feel anger, a deep rotten eager to scream at her.

But again, who were you to complain about Taissa on the tv? You were at the stage almost every week, you relished on the importance of the spotlight’s —relished on having the attention, but not being truly seen.

You were nothing but your art, perhaps Tai was the same: nothing but her morals. You would not take that away from her, you had a piece of you stolen once. You wouldn't be the one holding the knife.

When you are on the stage, you don’t feel anything but pure bliss.

To be seen by so many people in awe was almost as good as being looked at by Lottie, you loved it, to remember the sensation of having the sun itself perceiving you — shining just for you.

You loved all kinds of arts, even if you had a degree in biology. You liked to know how the brain feels, not how it works. Besides, Lottie always enjoyed more art than science.

In small moments, where you weren't the center of attention, you would steal glances of the public — you would pretend she was there, cheering you up, calling your name, simply looking at you with that smile of hers.

You would pretend you haven’t lost it all when they found you.

Too many thoughts would come to your mind when you were on stage. Today, you were thinking about your blood donations from yesterday, you thought that when being cut with the needle and given to another, the receiving end would feel this new blood boiling with the aching, with the need of being seen.

Will your blood carry your love for Lottie?

Will they bite their own hands and suck every drop of it in hopes of getting out this thirst for an unknown woman?

Your soul ached for hers like an earthquake.

Your eyes tear a bit, would God forgive you for your sins?

You shake your head while spinning, God’s forgiveness didn’t mattered — only her, only her mattered.

You heard a new voice once you reached the backstage.

— I’m Jessica Roberts, from Star Ledger, you know?

She got her hand out to you, her eyebrows getting higher. You take her hand. She had a tight grip but soft fingers, not really the type of finger that types so much like she claims she does.

— Not really if I’m being honest.

— Well, we work with stories.

Oh, you see where this is going to go.

— I appreciate your presence, but no. — you needed to get her out of here, so you walked to the door, opening it.

She takes a deep breath, already tired, and you can imagine you're not the first she had seen today.

— Don’t you wish to take it all out? Once it’s gone, no one will ever bother you anymore.

Or they will bother you more, you think.

— I understand your need for truth, but I don’t want that, I want to just bleed —I’m tired of making red paint out of my wounds.

Jessica looks at you puzzled, but she nods and gets out silently. You knew she would come back.

— But hm, thank you for the flowers!

— What flowers? — she frowns and so do you.

You hide it quickly with a smile.

— Nothing, don't worry, have a nice night!

Once she gets away, you turn around, if those flowers weren’t hers then who sent you? You didn’t have those types of friends and distanced yourself from all your family.

You get close to the pretty bouquet, taking it onto your hand and opening the letter.

Inside of it there was a postcard.

A postcard with the symbol on it.

#itmighthavebeenlibrary #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #lottie matthews x you #Cannibalism like literally and as an all consuming love #autistic Lottie Matthews #reader insert #aching bones aching teeth

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holylottie · 3 months

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Aching bones, aching teeth [02]

masterlist [and warnings!]

PAIRING — Lottie Matthews x afab!reader

CHAPTER SINOPSIS — 1996, you pass your last moments on your hometown before heading to nationals.

NOTE — english is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you might find. Please go read the tw's first! Thank you for reading :)

Chapter 02 — between letters and lies

1996

Charlotte Matthews was born on a cold morning, at exactly 9:46 a.m., and her cries were so loud that the patients six floors above knew that a new life had arrived.

And Charlotte's childhood continued in the same way as it began: with a lot of loud crying. She was always scolded a lot, which is why she hardly cried these days, but there were two people in the world she could rely on to dry her tears.

One of them was extremely close, her childhood best friend, while the other, her grandmother, was still enjoying her retirement: traveling all over the globe. Charlotte tried not to miss her so much (tried not to feel so angry) but it was almost impossible; her grandmother raised her, the only one who gave her affection - and the only one who accepted her after the anniversary tragedy.

Lottie's house was huge and freezing, extremely cold during the winters and with a relaxing breeze during the summers, as if several ghosts were blowing eternally through the walls. As a little girl, Charlotte swore she could hear them.

Today, the only sound in her house was of shells hitting each other, a wind chime that you and her made when the voices in Lottie's head were almost unbearable.

Charlotte went downstairs, looking for one of her parents, but all she saw was the piano in the living room, quiet as a child.

Oh God, she's never seen a quiet child, she's never been one to begin with, maybe that's why she doesn't have any siblings —she sucked all the energy out of her parents before they could give her some company.

The girl huffed, crossing her arms as she looked for Genevieve, the new housekeeper. She thought about what might happen if she found her, what she would really do if she saw her. Charlotte would like the presence of someone older and more affectionate, but that didn't mean that anyone older was going to be affectionate.

She went upstairs again, back to her room and put on the first pair of boots she could find.

Then she went out into the yard, picking up her old soccer ball and practicing shots with herself, trying to score goals between her mother's flower chairs.

The Aetos family home was near a park with a beautiful garden with a statue in the center, and the bench facing this view was your favorite place. Far enough away from your parents, but close enough for them not to complain.

You held a book in your lap, but could only stare at the water moving up and down the white marble sculpted arms.

It was a perfect sight, a comforting silence and a calm that could only be replicated when you were in the presence of your best friend.

Your fingers clenched together, nervous, not that it was apparent, anyone who saw you from the outside would find a person as calm as the statue.

Your large, sad eyes were uncomfortable for your mother, and between humility or luxury, she seemed to see only the latter in your irises. More annoying than the eyeballs was the time you spent in the bathroom. Your parents hated your vanity.

Your yellow tights covered your scraped knees, burning from the fervent prayer you had said last night. You felt lost, begged the heavens so much to be heard, to be changed, but to no avail: you still had the same feelings —and blamed yourself greatly for them.

Was a confession still valid if you lied about the real reasons behind her actions? you confessed seeking forgiveness, not to find other people to blame.

You confessed, and spent more time practicing your dance routine until your toes hurt, spent more time sewing clothes without taking care with the needle; You tried everything to feel less guilty about your lack of guilt.

You did like your mother, like the time she caught you reading The Well of Loneliness, and made you clean the whole house on your knees, begging forgiveness for yours and the writer's soul. You wondered if your mother really knew about the story, but you didn't dare question anything, your mother had certainly chastised you because she had heard what the book was about.

Of all the literature you had ever studied, Russian literature was the one that had taken up the most space in your heart. The melancholy in every word was something no one else could replicate. At least, no one else you could read, as your Arabic was weak and minuscule.

The teacher had split the class into three and given them each a different Russian work. The group was divided into two and each member had to present their own opinion on the theme of the book —as well as doing the technical analysis that you loved so much.

And you got even angrier, you had read the book and loved analyzing it, what was wrong with doing it?

The theme of the book and Dostoevsky's damning phrases about self-opinion... A little ironic that you had got that part of the debate right.

You opened the book again, flicking through the pages as if the answers were going to leap out of the paper and straight into your head.

You loved old literature, knowing that someone, years ago, decades ago, held the same book and read the same words, made you feel as if you weren't alone in her world of thoughts —you were connected to everything and everyone at the same time, all the time.

However, the beauty of the author's words did not take away the sadness of their truthfulness, what hurt hurt, and only became art once it stopped burning.

You opened to any page, your eyes skimming over the paragraph marked in neon colors.

"We always think of eternity as an idea that cannot be understood, something immense. But why should it be? What if, instead of all that, you suddenly find just a little room in there, something like a village bath house, dirty, and spiders in every corner, and that's all eternity is."

That paragraph never left your mind. You had always wanted eternity, to leave a legacy, you wanted to be important, to be remembered, and thinking of eternity as a dirty little room began to drive you crazy. Did the infinitude of the soul really not matter that much? you weren't afraid of dying, but you were afraid of not having anyone to remember you.

Class passed by so painful slowly.

The biology teacher spoke about seaweed, about how they were everywhere — if there was light, there was seaweed. You looked at Lottie, on your side, imagining her engulfing you like the sea engulfed the land — if there was life, there was your love for Lottie.

You could drown in her love, — no, no, you wouldn’t drown —, you would willingly swallow more water than what you could take.

— Are you okay? — she turns around, asking with a pretty worried face.

How to tell all the complicated, sinful thoughts going through your mind? you never let yourself indulge in such desires —let alone recognize you had them. However, you knew it was clear: you wanted to keep being seen.

It took a lot of effort for you to talk, but you opened your mouth more, asked questions, broke the silence quite a few times… The team had given you a voice.

— What happened to Allie… It was truly scary — you decided to say, looking at the hand Lottie had put on the table, aching to be touched too — I never saw someone bleed so much.

It was a lie, but you never considered yourself much of a person to be upset about your bloody wounds; you bled paint, glitter pens, strawberry jam or a ribbon, nothing much human.

— Let’s think about something else, shall we? — Charlotte wanted to punch Taissa (more for giving bad thoughts to you than actually hurting Allie).

—y/n, there’s no one more blessed than you, — Laura Lee started to say, a smile so gentle on her face that the sun itself could burn — you truly are gifted, such as me, for having you.

You smiled too, enticed by the words of your childhood company. There was tension in the circle, with all the girls saying sweet (yet imposing) words to one another.

— Laura, you are one of my best friends and I’m so glad God led me to you, you shine as bright as the sun — you loved Laura, you hoped Laura never realized how sinful you were.

You two both hugged a very tight embrace, going to another lady. You stepped in front of Shauna, tilting your head at the girl.

— Y/n, you have a… a very nice taste in clothes and phrases.

You giggled lowly, shaking your head.

— Should I be upset about your delay? — you two both laughed slightly, you blinked one eye — I really enjoy you, Shauna, I enjoy your big eyes and big words.

She didn’t say anything back, and soon you were passing close to Natalie: — I don’t really have anything nice to say about you…

— Oh, fuck off! — she muttered back, smiling like a fool while going in Jackie's direction.

— Taissa, you are very pretty, and perhaps too witty for your own good.

— Y/n, you are the second best on the team.

And you didn’t even get upset by it, rather the contrary, you immediately assumed Lottie was the first —and you were so happy to be so close to Lottie in Tai's view.

Finally, the time came, the lamb walked in the direction of the flames.

— Lottie! — your voice was like a surprised giggle, staring deeply into the girl’s — I know God exists because I looked you in the eyes.

— y/n… — she took a deep breath, lost in words, swallowing everything she truly wanted to say, but she smiled — if God exists, I wonder when he will bless me with your lips.

Of course, this wasn’t what she truly said. In fact, Lottie kept quiet. She gave one step ahead and hugged you tightly, whispering on your ear:

— God exists in your embrace.

Charlotte's house was not only large and full of rooms, but it was also full of space in the backyard —a plot big enough to have a vegetable garden and a pond you could bathe in.

You weren't the biggest fan of pieces of water where you couldn't see the ground, so you loved being in the lake at Charlotte's house, where the water was almost crystal clear, showing the stones. You couldn't even think of what that pool of water must have cost Mr. and Mrs. Matthews.

Lottie was in the water, while you were sitting on the edge with your feet dangling and creating little ripples, you had leaves, twigs and flowers around, creating crowns of petals and plants. Charlotte stared at you curiously, wondering what you were thinking, although she knew that if she asked, the answer would be the same: "I'm not thinking about anything, dear Lottie, just feeling how much I love you and-"

Oh, right, that part wasn't really sincere, but Lottie liked to imagine you following the script that her own head was creating.

When Lottie thought of you, she didn't think of a love that warmed her all over, but a love that would cook her in an oven at 200 degrees and consume her entirely.

She imagined you sitting at a beautiful table, waiting for her heart on a platter.

She imagined that you would accept the dish, that you would eat every morsel, saying promises of love —she imagined that you would accept her into your body in every way.

— Do you think the dinosaurs knew they were about to die? It makes me so sad to think that they might have just thought it was a miracle that such a shiny thing had come so close... — You pressed your lips together, stopping weaving the leaves to stare at the work in progress and pulling Charlotte out of her own head — I guess that's how it is with all warm and shiny things, one day they turn you to dust...

— Do you think it would have been different? If they'd known?

— A lot of people only start to love once they know they may never love again, don't they?

— Well, that's Confucius' logic... But I don't know if I'd like to know that the end is so near, sometimes ignorance can be a gift.

— But it's still a lie.

— But it's going to end anyway, darling... What difference does a beautiful lie make? — Lottie stared at her best friend, she knew that nothing was more important to you than the truth, that's why everything was so painful and confusing for you.

Lottie realized that she had to be honest.

— Y/n, I need to tell you something, — she said, smiling nervously.

You looked at her curiously, stepping into the river to be closer to Lottie.

— I’m terrified of nationals. You need to come, I’ve asked the coach to put you on the regular.

You sighed slightly, thinking about how Allie couldn’t play any sooner.

— It’s a great opportunity for you, Lots…

— I don't want it for me, I want it for us.

You stared at your best friend, a confused smile on your face, wondering how you should handle this situation.

— applepie, I need you to trust me on this... — Charlotte said, her voice serious, moving closer and wrapping her arms around your waist, her head resting on your shoulder — please.

You turned your head, leaning it against Lottie's, your nose taking in the scent of your friend's hair cream. The water around you was cold, but your body was warm —your heart too.

— Okay... a test...

“My dearest, Charlotte

I must apologize, I am not a good person with words getting out of my mouth, but, hopefully, I will be able to make them worthy of writing in this letter.

I tell you how much I appreciate you, however, I must confess, it's surprising for me how unsure of it all you seem to be; I suppose our own light truly can make us blind.

I feel like those words weren't enough, so I hope I can make you believe it with this list.

— I love the way you look at me after I say something you disagree with; I love how you expect your eyes to say everything you can't; Most of it all, I love how they truly say it.

— I love how when you laugh (truly laughs) your eyes become very small; I love how your cheeks work as a happy measure, I know when a joke is funny when I can't see your eyes.

— I love how you tilt your head when you are trying to make people see your point of view.

— I love that when you frown, your lips are pressed together, like you are sending a kiss to those you disagree with. I suppose you are just so full of love that your body releases it without even wanting to.

— I love your smell; I can sense everytime you enter the room, it's there instantly and I look for it like a dog in an airport. I never cared that much about perfumes, from all the five senses, smell was the one I took for granted; however it is different now: I find myself taking deep breaths around you, so usually that everytime I see a pretty fantastic view on my walks, I end up lacking air.

— I love your hair; I love how your bangs are always so neatly trimmed and placed, like the wind isn't a bother to your lines; I love how you play with it when you are filled with concentration.

— I love your fingers and how they look for my hand;

— I love your skin; I love how you glow in the sun, like Apollo is making it shine just for you; Deeply, I bet he is, how could the almighty god of art not wish to perpetuate the beauty of the most beautiful creation in the mortal realm?

— I love your mind most of it all, how you think; I love how you stay dedicated to one single singer but listens to multiple songs of various people; I love how you speak your mind when you are comfortable enough; I love how your favorite shows are the ones you didn't even finished watching, there's something very pure of loving a thing you don't even know how it's going to end; I love how one of your favorite colors is grey but you only uses light tones; I love how your biggest dream is to work paleontology, how you wish to dive deep into the past and look for answers; I love how your favorite animal are dogs because you see them more (what is strange for me at first, how can you have as your favorite something so daily?; until I realized that what you love the most is to have company; I do not wish for you to prefer anything else.);

— I love dogs (now).”

You took a deep breath, putting the decorated letter inside Lottie’s locker and walked straight outside, ready to enter the bus and be taken to the airport; leaving the confession letter to your future self.

Leaving to the future.

#itmighthavebeenlibrary #yellowjackets #reader insert #autistic lottie matthews #lottie matthews x you #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #aching bones aching teeth

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holylottie · 3 months

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Aching bones, aching teeth [03]

masterlist [and warnings!]

PAIRING — Lottie Matthews x fem!reader

CHAPTER SINOPSIS — In 1996, they looked to you for answers that you pretended to know. In 2021, they looked to you for answers you didn't have.

NOTE — english is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you might find. Please go read the tw's first! Thank you for reading :)

Jackie brainrot, I miss the snow baby.

2021

Some nights, you used to stare at your dollhouse.

It was very big, with a garden, beds more comfortable than your own and even an attic (where no doll was allowed to go, but it mattered that it was there).

There was a doll with brown hair in the bed, she was always there, always warm and inside the place (you were not allowed to move her, not even if you truly wanted to).

Some nights, you would wake up and watch the dolls move on their own. A little Shauna walking around the kitchen, a tiny Van hopping the stairs.

But little Jackie never moved, she always stayed where you let her: on the bed, on the blanket. You used to cry about it, now you enjoyed the sight: she was safe, she was warm and, most importantly of it all, she was out of your grip.

Staring at your ceiling, you wonder if this was on God’s plan.

You remember the cold lonely nights, the sins and blessings. How Lottie would hug you closely or how Jackie would dry your tears with shaking hands. How everyone was so happy dancing, how Misty called you nice and hugged you so dearly.

Or how, on the first nights, you didn't even eat, only to leave more for Lottie, in case she felt hungry.

God treats everyone as sons. Wasn’t he the one to make the cross?

When you woke up from your memory, your fingers were stained with blood. Your belly was bloody too, with a few drops getting onto the bed below you. In your skin it was marked, again, the symbol of the trees.

1996

You walked over in Jackie's direction, seeing her alone in the cabin. You smile at her, seeing her trying to do the same, but not succeeding very well. You keep quiet, just doing your chores of cleaning berries and leaves by her side, hoping your presence would be enough.

— This is all so fucking weird — she said, a sour taste on her mouth as she looked at you doing your tasks — I wish I could just live like you all do, but it's all disgusting and too hot.

You giggle lowly, and she stares at you a bit mad, but then you both laugh.

— I just pretend, actually — you confess — I pretend I'm in a vintage dollhouse and I need to leave like a barbie doll… except like the house is in the middle of nowhere, with only two ken’s and there's not even plastic food…

At that, Jackie laughs loudly, shaking her head at your words.

— You truly know how to live in a fantasy world, tiq.

She called you the nickname she had given you when you entered the team, tiq because of the tic tac of a clock, since you would make the sound every time you were nervous —that and your crippling anxiety over routine and times, you always wanted everyone in the field at least fifteen minutes before the game started.

— We need this, you know… there's no way of this working if we don't stay positive — you say, pressing your lips together as you put the good berries on a different cup, the bad ones on another so you could make jam or something like that — I put on ribbons and pretty dresses, and pretend I'm just going to a party on the woods… pretend I'm just… just the same.

Jackie walks over at you, sitting by your side and hugging you. She kisses your forehead, taking a deep breath.

— You know… you could put some ribbons on my hair…

Your eyes lighted up and you quickly put the cups on the bed, running to your bag and getting up a set of white ribbons, giggling as you sat behind Jackie, ready to doll her up.

The first nights were okay, the other ones were bearable, but these? Oh, these were horrifying… Charlotte could not even grasp when or where it all changed, but what seemed to be a fun trip to the woods, where they forgot all of their resources, turned into a fulltime nightmare, where not even sleeping she was free… Perhaps, she just had finally stopped being able to fool herself.

What made it possible for her to not lose herself to madness was the lake. A place where she was reborn —and washed away from her sins.

No, not all her sins, she was still alive after all.

Where to go when you are lost on yourself?

That’s right, you stay stuck —and thats what she felt, floating on the cold water of the river, wishing for things to change. Just wishing and wishing with nothing happening.

Charlotte always tried her best to help people out, to make the tragedies that she felt turn into something useful, but to no avail, no one ever listened to what she had to warn.

“Why do you insist on saving the sacrificial lamb, Charlotte?”

Well, don't all living things deserve a chance to live?

Half of Lottie wanted to take the lamb upon her arms and watch it grow into a pretty sheep. The other half was ready to lick its bones.

Lottie loved the gray skies way more than people seemed to love those orange-pink sunsets. She pictured the Gods watching over humans with a filter lens —because yes, she thought that there was more than only one God, no, she prayed for it; Maybe in a trial, she would have more chances of forgiveness.

— What are your thoughts on loneliness, Laura?

She looked over at Laura Lee, expectantly, always imagining the girl had all of the answers.

— I don’t know, it’s hard to talk about loneliness when I don’t feel it.

— You never feel alone? — Charlotte asks, frowning. It felt impossible to her.

— I’m never really alone, I walk along with God and anywhere I go, I follow.

The answer left Charlotte quiet for a few moments, trying to look at the skies with hooded eyes.

— I’m afraid I’ve been sent to this earth to only feel hurt.

— That’s not true, Lottie.

— How can you know?

— no one uses the sheep as the purification offer. It is the reparation one. It only comes after the sin is already made.

— Perhaps the sheep is the sin itself, that’s why it burns.

— If you are used to the fire, why would you scream while being burned?

— You scream of fear, not out of pain.

— Are you a shepherd or a farmer, Lottie?

— What? — she stared at her friend, confused.

— You can stay and be anxious about your lands or you can go and only worry about the sheeps.

— I feel like there’s only one correct answer to that question — and she also felt like the one she was going to give, wasn’t it.

— Well, we all deserve the opportunity to do something… and also to choose to do nothing at all — Laura replied, a faint, but genuine, smile on her lips.— Life is just what happens after you do one of the two.

Some nights, you went to the lake.

You liked the idea of having so much water around you. You float around, taking deep breaths, you are lost in thoughts, your mind going to your half written poem —one you only had the end of.

“And her teeth bite into my flesh.

And he complains that I can't talk about loving without talking about devouring.

I have myself on my tongue, I bite until I feel red: I leave bite marks on everything I desire.

My mind tries to convince me:

it's okay to get out, there's no point in eating if you're already full;

And a part of my mind speaks out loud:

emptiness is not filled with food;

I have love on my table, and all I can see is the guests eating.

I smile with the satisfaction of being a great hostess —at the same time as I hope I've seasoned it with poison.”

Your attention was lost when you saw a shining thing on the depth of the lake. Shine enough to be seen only with the moon light. Your fingertips moved to get close to it, but the more you swam, the more far it seemed to be.

You reached it, and when you felt the pang on your finger it was too late. You looked at the bloody point of it, staring at the little Victorian looking pin on your palm. A little lamb with some shining pearls on it.

Some nights, Charlotte sleepwalked. She said weird stuff and looked at you in a different way. She was here today, the sudden presence scaring you, but you instantly relaxed when you saw Lottie. You could never be afraid of her.

Charlotte looked at you, tilting her head as you opened your mouth to ask. She was quicker.

— and what is nature for you?

You got scared by her voice, a hoarse voice, deep and steady, like a knife cutting meat. Her eyes were scanning you.

— I love the wind.

— No. — she said, her words so convicted that even you doubted your own — what's in you?

What could she possibly mean by it? natural behavior? You didn’t know if you actually believed that, on things coming within us when we are born. You wished your nature was to be light and fond and kind, but deep down, really deep, within the catacombs of your stomach, you knew your nature was to have a tight grip around your heart —always wishing for that deep breath of release.

— hunger.

2021

When you opened the door of your house, the last thing you expected to see was a trio of women with angry faces shooting you inside your house.

— I'm almost sure this is a property invasion.

— The last thing you'll need to worry about is a property invasion once I put my hands on your fucking neck! — Natalie said, but she didn't move, only walked close behind you as you went to your colorful living room, in a huge contrast to the clothes of the other women.

You sit on the couch, taking your cup of tea and sipping it, trying to gain some time. You looked at them, waiting for them to speak.

— I might know why you all came here, but I must say, it's nice to see you all again! — you smiled genuinely, although truly nervous behind your faucet.

— oh, cut the shit off, y/n! What is up with that? — Taissa asked, throwing the newspaper with a big picture of you on it.

“Former Yellowjackets member might reveal the truth at an art show?”

You stared at the piece of paper. It was a nice pic of you, not your favorite, but a nice one.

— It's a newspaper… I don't really read it, with internet and all, I kind of-

— What the fuck are you thinking?! “reveal the truth”? Have you lost your mind?

You frowned, sighing.

— I never said I was gonna reveal anything! They just assumed that!

— And you didn't deny it!

You shake your head, getting up from the couch and going to the bookshelf on the corner of the room. Your necklace holds the key to one of the secret places, and you open it, taking the postcard out of it.

— I'm not the one threatening to reveal the truth!

You accuse them, not sure which one you look at.

Shauna frowns, sharing looks with Taissa and Natalie. You used to love them. You now wish to have them out of your skin, of your mannerisms and past. You wish to bleed all your blood so you could take away your shared sins.

— You received one too.

— a couple of days ago, yes, — you answer, putting it on the table — it was at my backstage with flowers with it.

Natalie took it, analyzing the image.

— Why is yours different?

She stares at you, wishing for answers. Answers you did not have.

— What do you mean? Different from what?

— From ours. Yours have a lamb at the corner and these numbers, what does that mean?

You take the card out of her hands, looking at it carefully again. A lamb with the numbers 119:50. What could that mean?

— I… I have no idea…

#itmighthavebeenlibrary #yellowjackets #aching bones aching teeth #reader insert #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews x you #yellowjackets x you #autistic lottie matthews

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holylottie · 3 months

Text

aching bones, aching teeth [06]

masterlist [socials and TW's]

PAIRING — Lottie Matthews x fem!reader

CHAPTER SINOPSIS — Lottie always gets more than she can have.

NOTE — english is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you might find. Please read the tw's first! Thank you for reading :)

1996

You stood still at the lake. Shauna tried to take you back to the cabin but to no avail, you couldn't bring yourself to move, to think.

You cursed god, got mad at the divine and, consequently, got mad at Lottie. How could she allow such a thing, how could she not know?

Your clothes were wet as you kept yourself sitting on the holy lake — as holy as a sin could be — crying, sobbing loudly. You couldn't scream, your sobs weren't filled with sounds, but they were filled with a new-found hurt: you just entered a new life, a life without Laura, without her sweet words and thoughtful prayers. You didn't hear Natalie arriving, but you felt her steady hands on your shoulders, she pulled you up, holding you with a tight grip while silent.

You didn't bother to speak.

She helped you change your soaked clothes and she made you lay down on the floor, next to an almost sleep Lottie. You two stared at each other, sharing a pain no one else in the cabin could understand.

Lottie reaches out for your hand — you give it to her —, holding your lamb plushie on the other.

Sleep comes slowly, a calm slumber.

But when you wake up, you are terrified.

However, you embrace the tears and make a friendship with the fear, you did not mind the nightmare. There, Laura was alive.

— All okay, Tiq? — Shauna stared at you, from across the room, giving you a gentle tiny smile.

You knew she only meant to be nice, but to someone even consider the possibility of you answering yes, it was devastating, horrifying. Nothing would ever be okay.

You nod, anyway, getting up and putting your mattress on top of Charlotte.

It’s way later than when you normally wake up, but you suppose the girls gave you all a break since the last events. Your stomach is aching for food, and you have to hold onto the walls to not fall when you start to walk.

Shauna and you went outside, and she looked at the leaves you had bring to the girls, their taste was horrible, and there weren’t many of them, but it was better than sleeping on an empty stomach.

— I don’t think I would ever say that, but I do miss cutting meat.

You giggle at Shauna’s remark, your eyes drifting off to Jackie, sitting a few steps away from you two. Shauna’s eyes were on her too.

— Do you think this will end someday?

— Everything does eventually, Tiq. In a good or bad way… everything ends.

— You're harvesting then?!

Like a sinner, a nômade living on the consequences of Adam and Eve.

You hear Mari’s voice and your whole body gets on alert. You get up from your kneeling position, poorly trying to hide the little strawberry patch with your own legs.

She pulled you by the collar of your shirt, her face so close to yours that you could almost see the anger in her irises.

— it’s not for you.

You simply say, filled with hate too, angry at her for finding out,angry at her for being angry at you.

— Oh, yeah for who’s it then For your teen crush, yn?

Her voice is so bitter that your ears hurt. You hated arguments, you hated people arguing, especially at you.

— What makes Lottie more deserving of it than any of us?

You stare at her, and then you laugh.

Silly stupid little Mari.

How could one’s own mind be so deeply wrong? How could one’s own mind compare themselves with something as big and holy as a god?

— When they grow, they will be mine and Akilah’s too.

As she said that, she left.

You felt the urge to step on all your work, to dig your fingers deep on the dirt and take all those seeds elsewhere.

Of course you felt sad, everyone was thinking you all would die — and everyone was pretending to not care about the imminent death and only worry about the stupid ball. You weren’t mad because there was a ball, you were mad because everyone was suddenly losing hope.

For you, the absence of hope was a death of the soul. Soon, the body would go too.

What was the point of life if you didn’t hope for things to get better? You wanted to cry, but who were you to deny an opportunity to dance with Lottie? To deny an opportunity to dance at all?

If there was one thing Lottie liked, it was watching the moon. She would sit by the window and concentrate so hard that she could almost hear it saying goodnight.

She didn't hear you arrive, you didn't announce yourself, but a snap of your mouth did.

You smiled ungraciously and waved softly at her. Your furred ears costume had little ribbons on it, Lottie saw it as a sign: you were a gift from the wild to her.

— Why does your mom call you bambi? — you approached, leaning on the tree next to the girl and looking in the same direction as her.

— It's because I jump around when I'm excited. — Lottie smiled, looking at you; You were different, lighter. Maybe it was the mood of the upcoming party, nobody felt pressured to be someone different in the dark lights and upcoming death.

— What should I call you then? My deer? — you laughed, playing on the pun of dear and deer.

Lottie Matthews always knew what to say, making cheeky comments and being the outgoing type, but you took all her words, she could never finish a sentence, let alone a seductive one.

Ignoring the way her heart was skipping a beat at being called "mine", she followed what was comfortable: concentrating on the joke.

She liked hearing it. She didn't know if it was her instinct as an only child who was born without having to share, but the idea of being the only one to whom you felt comfortable enough to open up so much made her chest fill with pride.

She tried to push aside her selfish thoughts of keeping what you said to herself.

— Have you ever read Sarah Ruhl? In one of her short stories, she tells about a great American surgeon called Halsted. He was married to a nurse whom he loved very much. One day Halsted noticed that his wife's hands were red when she came back from surgery. — you were so enthusiastic, explaining everything with such joy, how could she remember and know so many general and random facts? How could Lottie pay attention to her costume when all she could do was stare at your lips? — And then he invented rubber gloves. For her. Sarah said it was one of medicine's great love stories, talking about how the difference is made out of love.

Lottie stared at her, smiling and vaguely remembering reading something about the construction of love. She knew that her feelings for you were big enough to make her invent something as good as gloves. Even if at the moment it was something as small as a party.

— Do you think everyone is going to have a love story this good? Or does the universe choose a few lucky people at random, Lotts? — you thought out loud, then laughed mockingly and denied it, asking her to let it go. Lottie smiled, handing you a box.

You had to hold back tears when you opened it and saw a tiara made out of leaves and flowers. You smiled happily.

You couldn't form words, so you just hugged her tightly.

— Your antlers are a bit too big — you laughed.

And Lottie felt the inspiration of a scientist.

2021

You loved gardening.

Everything you did in the mud, came back in some way. All your efforts would eventually lead to something, it didn’t had any subjectivity on it, it was simple and clear: plant it, take care of it and receive it.

You had a notebook to note every single one of your seeds and gardening cares, some tips and even pictures of your most beloved ones. However, your favorite of it all was, without a doubt, your strawberry patch.

It was so incredibly taken care of, strawberries as red as blood, leaves as green as hope. You would sit there, putting water, take off bugs with delicate fingers and eat a fruit straight from the patch.

— I never liked strawberries too much, most of them don’t taste like anything.

Laura said, playing with one of the ladybugs.

Or, rather, Laura’s ghost said. Today, she felt adventurous, following you outside of your house. Her clothes dripped water, and her neck was burned by flames. It was an unusual sight — that was already usual to you.

— You can’t know they all taste like that if you don’t eat all of them.

— That’s stupid — she giggles, shaking her head — you don’t need to know everything to hate it.

You smiled, taking off your gloves and smiling at her.

— I was never able to see the crickets; I used to get so deeply upset about it… — You confessed, your face holding a nostalgic smile; It was a strange action in Laura’s point of view: you were so young, what could you have in the past to be longed for? — Until one day a cricket got into my room and I ran away… I’m afraid that once a person truly sees something, she will wish to go back and never see anything at all. like you, with a strawberry.

You shake your head, it was funny, confess sins to a ghost.

There was a whole life in those woods, hungry and harvest, misery and tragedy and hope, and there was birth and death.

And it's hard because you can't kill the person you were in that lifetime, but you also can't still be her. So there's just this ghost of yourself lurking over your shoulder, despising your every move, watching you sin.

— And guess what, Laura: tomorrow when I wake up, I'll have a wonderful day, and when I put my head on my pillow to sleep, I'll think again: how much happier I would've been if I had been doing this at seventeen.

When on the stage, you felt a flower fall on your feet, you got down and picked it up, recognizing it as a white lily.

You didn’t see her right away, but you felt it.

Your soul was being pulled toward hers and then your eyes went to find her, looking non-stop for someone who would make your breath stop.

Twenty five years later, and you would still recognize her blind. You would still acknowledge her presence even if all your senses were compromised, for you would only be you if there was the flame of your love for lottie inside your body.

You just hoped that the you’s of other universe’s had a more kind life to love her.

1996

The doomsday ball

You’ve never felt happier as you did when Lottie asked you to go as her date to the ball. Finally, the rainbow before the thunderstorm.

Your mother said that there were five hells — and that one of them was destined only for people like you, but you didn't care about that anymore. If hell were as warm as Charlotte's embrace, you would walk through the gates with a smile on her face.

You had always had many doubts about the Bible.

You read the verses, imagining yourself in the places of angels and heroes — even though the position of sinners, and those who sought mercy, always seemed more real to you (as if you had been born with your hands in prayer and your knees already scraped).

You looked at the saints, seeing them deprive themselves of their desires to finally find the way to God. You thought about what you wanted — Charlotte — and saw no difference between your desire and your destiny.

You smile, seeing everyone so pretty and happy, like things were supposed to be since the beginning. You take a deep breath, going to take a sip of your drink as you watch Van e Tai give a kiss.

A whole new world seems to show up in front of you.

A world of possibilities and wishes, of love and care.

A world where there were no sins, only passion.

— C'mon, dance with me! — Lottie’s arms were moving like tentacles, like a snake calling you to sin.

Eager to please, you bit the apple. Your movements were too graceful for a party, you didn't know how to move without rules to follow, without an established pattern to be guided to.

One of Lottie's hands went to your left cheek, caressing it slightly while the other was holding a makeshift cigarette Natalie had made — you wondered what would burn more: the flame she was smoking or her touch.

— You're just such a pretty little lamb, aren't you?

Lottie’s tone was condescending, but she had a playful, even flirtatious smile for you — the look of a predator who knows how to tear every piece of his prey apart.

Lottie leans closer, her nose almost touching her lover's one. You could feel the warmth of her breath on your skin. Lottie pulls your body to her.

— I just can't hide how I feel... I want you so much. I've never wanted someone as much as you, darling... — she presses her lips together as she goes in to whisper something in your ear — Your heart is so sweet...

Lottie gets even closer, her voice barely audible:

— I want to taste it.

And the closer she gets, the far away she seems. You don't know why, but the booze might have made your thoughts and vision unclear.

You smile, giggling happily, your hips moving to the music playing inside your head.

Lottie’s mouth gets close, close to your chest and, having access to your skin by the cut of your dress, she licks your chest. Gently, at first, then eagerly, hungrily. Her mouth leaves hicks on your skin, you feel the blood being pulled and released and then you feel the first bite. Her teeth penetrate your skin.

You cry out, but it's a muffed one, not out of pain, but out of relief. You get out of breath, your shaking hands going to her hair, caressing it.

While you felt your meat being taken away from you, while Lottie took what always had belonged to her, your mind was feverishing with thoughts, screaming confessions:

I cannot confess anymore, it is not enough, I need to devour my sins, to let them perish from where they came from.

Biting my tongue, I wish to bite my hand.

I want the marks, I need the flaws and claws and teeth teeth teeth

Lottie takes a step away, her eyes watery from the pleasure she had felt, her fingertips aching to touch you, her teeth aching for more.

Her mouth was completely bloody, with your red ink falling down her chin.

— You are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen.

You felt the urge to kiss Travis too, only to be able to feel Lottie's lips, but then Shauna kissed him and suddenly the thought made you sick.

Your head was dizzy, you missed Laura.

You sit out the ground of the cabin, not able to recognize faces or things, you can hear voices but none of them is clear. So you stay still, trying to understand why your vision was so blurred.

When your eyes truly open, you are alone. A deep fear settles onto your chest, and you start to breathe heavily, your lips quivering and bloody tears rolling down your face. You put your tongue out, tasting their salt flavor.

You did not pray that night, but you had a serious personal conversation with Jesus. You hoped he had good days, good enough to show him that life isn't just about dying for other people's sins.

#yellowjackets #itmighthavebeenlibrary #aching bones aching teeth #reader insert #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #lottie matthews x you #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #cannibalism as a metaphor for love

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holylottie · 3 months

Text

aching bones, aching teeth [05]

masterlist [socials and TW's]

PAIRING — Lottie Matthews x fem!reader

CHAPTER SINOPSIS — A reunion ball takes place on your old school. A reunion of memories burn your mind.

NOTE — english is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you might find. Please read the tw's first! Thank you for reading :)

2021

— So, what does it say?

You asked, looking at the cards in front of you. Only one could be read clearly from where you stood: XXI the world; The others weren’t very readable, but you could recognize a knight in one of them.

You were never one to believe in other things rather than God, but you needed a signal, it didn’t matter where it came from.

In the past, it would come with pretty lips and bangs, nowadays you had to contempt yourself with cards.

— The world usually means a completion of cycle, a chance to inspire others with what you’ve learned, however, your card is on reverse, which means you haven’t truly accepted the end of it yet. You are stuck.

You put on a facade, feeling your stomach start to boil with anger. Not over the tarot lady, but at yourself, at the truth.

Stupid plane, stupid game. Stupid heart that didn't know when to stop loving and when to start thinking.

You couldn't even watch a football game without balling your eyes out, how embarrassing was that?

— The eight of wands is about action and accomplishment, it talks about coming to terms with transformation of one’s own relocation or even, well, sexuality… — she keeps going, like she hadn't filled your mind with questions and worries — Now, the knight of swords… I can see you went through really hard conflicts — externally and internally — but this says for you to keep going, to maintain your pace: things will run smoothly as long as you keep going.

Keep going? Isn't that what you had been doing over the past years? Just surviving without exactly living?

You had never left the woods, not truly. Your mind was still in that cabin, your heart was still buried five feet deep in that mud, your soul was locked within the trees.

You were more lost in society than you were in that desert of hope.

— So, you have loved her for thirty eight years?

The madam needs to hold out her surprised face, perhaps even a mock disbelieving giggle after hearing your confession.

— No, we've met thirty eight years ago — you correct her, shaking your head — I've loved her my whole life, I just wasn't aware of it yet… but she was there, on the lucky coin on the ground to the kind words of strangers and being at the right place on the right time. She has always been there.

When you arrived at your house, it was more silent than normal.

You took a deep breath, going to your room to take a warm bath.

Your problem was your simplicity: to love Lottie was as simple as your lungs working, automatic. Well, automatic until you remembered it, then you got too self conscious and the Lottie-oxygen was ripped off you.

You stared at the dollhouse on the corner of your (filled with trinkets and blankets) room, frowning when you realized four dolls together. It wasn't exactly surprising, you've caught Misty and Natalie's doll together a couple of times, the same with the little Shauna and Taissa, but the four of them? Oh, that was different.

You looked at the clock. Strange. It wasn't very common for them to be so on time, but you wondered if things had changed.

Yes, perhaps they weren't the ones you've once known.

After the bath, you get yourself ready with an outfit you've picked three weeks ago, when the reunion ball had been announced. Twenty five years later. Twenty five.

A whole life.

You call a taxi, and you get to the school.

However, you stood in front of the building, unable to move, whether to enter or to leave. You just stood there, with a lost sight and aching heart.

An empty cage of flesh staring at the past.

It wasn't long till you found yourself in some company.

Natalie stared at you with those indifferent eyes of her, you wondered which one of your sins she was undressing.

— You saved me once, then tried to kill me.

Her voice was low, heavy on your ears as she smoked a cigarette.

— Well, don't be so upset, you're not special… — you giggle, nervous and anxious about the interaction, perhaps even embarrassed — I've done the same with Shauna.

— yeah, but it's different, you and I, it was different, — Nat shakes her head, not able to look you in the eye — we were truly friends.

— I'm sorry for upsetting you, Nat.

She giggles lowly.

— That's different than apologizing for doing it, — her eyes now are on you, angry — you can't even bring yourself to say it, can you?

You take a deep breath, looking at the floor like it has all the answers.

— I ask for your forgiveness like I ask God's one. — she waited for the “but” — I won't lie while trying to redeem myself, I cannot be sorry about anything I've done on her will.

Not even the devil had fallen as hard as you.

1996

You hold the meat on your palm, the blood running down your hands like red gloves, you have tears in your eyes, streaming down your face as you sob quietly. You didn't mind being the cook, having to be the one to take out the animal from the meat —be the one responsible for the others feeling a little bit more normal about the nerves and feet on their tongues. They could pretend they didn't know where it came from.

But you? You could never not remember the eyes of the rabbits, and the cheek of the deer.

However, you did mind today's date: you were supposed to be at the stage, dancing under the spotlight, waiting for Lottie backstage, waiting for her to give you a bouquet of flowers.

You wonder who got your solo — you wonder if you will ever be in the center of people's eyes again.

Lottie was watching you from inside the cabin, staring at you with care, her head resting on the window. She wished she could open a hole on time and freeze you two there together, perhaps in that way your worries of the future, present and past wouldn't cloud your happiness.

She wished she could morph her body into a wood platform and give herself for you to shine. She would make everybody in that cabin stop what they were doing to watch you, she would make sure everyone would clap at the end and smile during it.

But she couldn't, she couldn't make you dance when all you were thinking was how hungry everybody was, how soon it would all get to an end. You never said it, of course, too gentle and kind to confess your loss of hope, but Charlotte knew. She always knew.

And she needed to do something for you.

Something to change what she had seen —not your dance, but you in her visions.

You on a plate.

When Lottie got closer to you, you first felt the touch of her hands on yours.

When Lottie smiled, you felt your heart explode into a thousand needles.

When Lottie got even closer, with her lips shaking, you felt like you could ascend to heaven for being known by an angel.

And when she kissed you, everything sang. You felt like her lips could end wars — but, who knows, perhaps start then too. There wouldn’t be enough warriors for all the Troy’s she would make fall under her touch.

If beauty had been born in the ocean with Aphrodite, under Lottie’s touch Venus had been reborn.

You would put your own blood on the cabin's door to save Lottie from her own sins — you weren’t sure what you would do to save yourself, but you weren’t able to think about it that much: there were thousands of screams in your ears.

Had you already been sent to hell?

— Breath, Lottie, it’s okay.

You stood silent while holding your hands on the girl’s ears, trying your best to mute Van’s screams. You turn your head around, not able to look at Charlotte’s hurt expression. Your eyes meet Jackie’s and you two share an understanding look.

Your heart ached for Van —she had done what you would've done too: follow your heart to the depths of the woods.

You put Lottie’s head on your shoulder, hugging her tightly and, when the screams ceased, you stared at her again, taking a deep breath.

God would make a fifth hell if he knew how sinful you were; if he knew how your only true devotion was to Lottie’s soul.

You didn’t mind it though — nothing could be warmer than her embrace.

You came back from Misty, bathroom time, the trees in the walk there had ripen a piece of your dress that you instantly tied to cover.

But Charlotte saw, she looked at your scraped knees, almost in living flesh.

— applepie... What have you done?

Both your eyes widened — one in surprise, the other in fear.

— I mortified.

— I know what it is, what I want to know is why.

You didn't have the courage to look her in the eye, you barely had the courage to stand up, to stand in the sight of your best friend.

— I, I...

— You don't even have the courage to admit it, because you know you shouldn't. It's different with us, don't you realize? You're not afraid, you're not afraid because you know you're not wrong, or do you think we're wrong? Do you think we should suffer and die just because we love someone different than what is expected?

Charlotte's questions went on and on, Your head began to spin, you felt dizzy, your stomach in your throat, your heart devastated.

— No! I don't think we should die, that's the problem, Charlotte! —you shouted back, thick tears streaming down your face, your hands shaking from the adrenaline rush in your body — That's the problem, I can't think it's wrong... I can even make a mistake, then I ask for forgiveness, repent and never make it again, but this? But us? Oh, Charlotte, I sin and I want to sin again and again and again. I look to the heavens and I can't see any god greater than you, I can't believe that there is anything more divine than your lips on mine... don't you see how wrong that is? How can I commit countless blasphemies just because I love you?

— Love isn't a sin, it's salvation, darling...

— So why do I feel so dirty? — your speech was interrupted by crying, which intensified when Lottie's arms gripped you tightly in a strong, secure embrace.

— Because they made you feel this way, because they're the ones who made up the rules, that doesn't mean they're right rules, — Lottie moved closer to her best friend's face, putting her hands on you, holding your cheeks — if it was something that needed a cure, why would God have made you sick from the start? No one is born to suffer, sweetheart. Not even the lamb.

You wanted to kill her.

You truly wanted to kill Laura Lee, but not in a dictionary definition of killing, you wanted to lock her in the forest cage you all were in and deny her freedom of choice. You wanted to murder her hope and stupidity.

To think of flying was one thing, to actually open your wings and decide to jump was another one, very different.

— I want to go with you, — you cry out, eyes stained with tears, your cheeks burning — Leonard won’t mind sharing the seat.

Laura smiled sweetly at you, her hand going to yours.

—You need to stay and pray here, — she answered, a lovely smile on her face — besides, Lottie needs someone around.

— You need someone too.

— I’ll always have you two. And you two will always have me.

Her response is the end of the conversation, and you take a few steps away, going to Lottie’s embrace to watch Laura Lee go.

#yellowjackets #itmighthavebeenlibrary #aching bones aching teeth #reader insert #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x you #lottie matthews x reader #lottie yellowjackets

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holylottie · 3 months

Text

aching bones, aching teeth [04]

masterlist [trailer and TW's]

PAIRING — Lottie Matthews x fem!reader

CHAPTER SINOPSIS — The other girls went to a journey that Lottie didn't want to go (the other girls went to a journey you couldn't follow).

NOTE — english is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you might find. Please read the tw's first! Thank you for reading :)

Chapter 04 — the trees singing

When you looked in the mirror, you brought your notebook with yourself, with a red and white pattern fabric cover, and in it you made lists, listing every little thing that was different from the day before. You liked to keep yourself sane, to keep track of where you had changed and how you perceived that change. Most days, things stayed the same, but there were moments, like this one, when you felt that something had changed, but you had no idea what it was.

Something in me wants more. I can't rest. Sylvia Plath, Your first forbidden reading.

You thought about the notes in your notebook, how your hair grew a finger after you started not straightening it, and how when your mother found out, you would cut it off.

You thought about the white dress you were wearing, about how you couldn't even look at your own body without your nightgown on.

You thought about Stephen and how you would hate the life you were leading, you thought about being angry, angry at literature, at thoughts and at Charlotte, because you knew, you knew, that the only reason you wanted so much more was because you knew there was more than what you had.

You wondered if it was worth living a life of ignorance or a life full of incomplete desires.

You thought about Lottie's eyes and came to the conclusion that nothing would be more valuable than having her attention on you.

And then you felt a tear run down your cheek, the drop taking you out of your train of thought and back onto the tracks of the real world.

It wasn't a tear of sadness, but a tear of polish. You had been staring at yourself in the mirror all this time, without blinking.

As for me, I had a lot to say. But I remained silent. Albert Camus, 1932, studied it in the first period, between free classes and before cheerleading practice, where you went just to steal the other girl’s glances. Nothing fulfilling.

You stared at the little desk on your left, a decorated letter on the top of it.

All of your promises were handwritten and sealed with wax in a beautiful colored envelope full of stickers. You liked concrete things —including words.

You wiped your eyes and left the room, straightening your clothes and walking to the kitchen to start preparing breakfast.

1996

— I still have a bad feeling about this place.

— I can sleep outside with you if you want us to.

Lottie smiled at you, shaking her head.

— We all need to stay together, or else, everything will start to fall and freeze.

You couldn’t really grasp what she was truly saying, but you were used to it by now: always looking for more of Lottie to understand. You two were laying down on the floor of the cabin, sharing a mattress while watching everyone else sleep. Things had turned a little sour ever since the night where Lottie screamed in the attic. You still were mad at Laura for hitting on her with your own bible. What kind of forgiveness could a bloody thing give?

You shake your head, looking at your dirty nails with a sigh, you really wanted to have some nail polish right now. A lot of the girls thought you were a bit stupid for wanting to keep getting yourself dolled up while in the middle of the woods, but you had an urgent need of being pretty all the time. Perhaps it was simply a like to dress up.

Or, perhaps, it was the thought of always having a man over your shoulder, telling how you needed to look or be, what to say and think. Who to kiss.

Lottie held your hand extra tight when she was having nightmares. You felt jealousy of Lottie’s body. Not in a way “She’s much prettier than me”, but in a way of “her cells can reach places my hand can’t”.

Her hand went to your knee, caressing it slightly.

— I don’t like when you do this, — she said, fingertips passing so very gently and carefully on your wounds — you don’t have to ask forgiveness for anything.

You wished she was right, but Lottie didn’t even know what you did, how could she grant you forgiveness?

Charlotte smiled in between the silence, sitting on the floor next to her best friend, her mind creating narratives, possible paragraphs for the letter she was writing to you.

"I'm sitting here with you, at the kitchen table. I'm holding a knife, but my grip isn't the same as your mother's. I'm holding it to cut an orange. I hold it to cut an orange. I give you the juiciest part."

She had gotten stuck on that part. How were you able to write so many promises so subtly and quickly? You made it seem as if pledging your soul to someone else was something trivial.

— Do you think my mother takes pleasure in hurting my heart?

You turned your face towards your best friend, tilting your head to one side as you always did when you expected an answer. Charlotte had it, she always did.

— I don't know, maybe she wants to soften the meat before she eats it, only in this case the hammer is words and there's only one person at supper... who keeps banging on the already cooked meal.

— So my mother wants to eat my heart?

— No, but she certainly wants it for herself. Maybe she'll freeze it, keep it in a box and only give it back to you after your wedding... of course, under the guardianship of your future husband, not yours.

Charlotte's words made you snort, your lips quivering slightly at the mere thought of marriage —you shivered at the thought that you might, at some point, have to make promises to a man. You would never write letters to a boy and, if you had to, you would burn them as soon as your mother saw it, make a little house out of the leftover dust (and live with Charlotte there forever).

— quia pulvis es et in pulverem reverteris.

You murmured quietly to herself. Charlotte looked at you curiously, her eyebrows raised in doubt, not understanding what you were saying.

— I'd burn with you.

— Do you miss too much of your family, Misty?

Your sudden question took her out of her bubble of thoughts. She stared at you for a couple of seconds in an awkward silence before speaking.

— I don't know, I don't remember much of our time together... In fact, I remember almost nothing. — Misty complained, frowning. It was a lie, she remembered, she just didn’t want to.

— I wish I could forget. — you said, getting closer to her with a smile on your face. Big gentle eyes looking at Quigley as your hand goes to her shoulder — I think we should make lots of memories together, then. That way, I can keep them for you.

The phrase made Misty's body warm up, a happy smile on her face as she nodded.

You two giggled together, pressing the berries you’ve found to make the medicine Misty had the recipe for.

Misty looked at her palm, and then at you, offering a piece of her meat. You shook your head, denying it.

— No, thank you, I cannot eat today.

She frowned, asking: — some kind of religious fast?

— No, no, not really, — you shake your head, giggling — I’m testing some plants I've found… to see if it is poisonous or not.

— So to test it you fucking ate it? — her mouth was wide open — are you crazy?

— It’s the only way to see if the other can eat it… — you say it isn’t such a big deal — I don’t eat everything I find! I have a process, okay?

Misty is still wary about your ideas, but she listens closely. Maybe wondering how you two never found each other before, you were so alike, so eager to be needed.

— First I inspect it, I don't eat the ones with little bites on it or the dead ones, then I smell it, if they have certain odors you shouldn’t eat them, like peaches… I rub a piece of it on my belly and wait a long time… If it doesn't get red, I start a whole other routine to see it is edible.

— Sounds like a lot of work… a deadly one.

— Well, we all got to help in some way, right? — you didn’t mention how the first ones gave you a horrible headache and stomach pain. Perhaps this was your cross: the suffering of Jesus was integral to his obedience and faithfulness to God.

— Have you had any luck yet?

— I did actually, and it tastes almost nice.

— almost nice sounds horrible — Misty answered, laughing, making you laugh too.

— Hey! Don’t be mean to my sweet little leaf — You retorted, putting the most strength you could get onto the berries, you needed to have all the liquid pass through the fabric — Such a pretty color for lipstick.

— Only if you want poisonous lips.

Misty comment made you think about the idea of having poison on your lips.

You would kiss every man on earth.

Natalie and you were looking at Lottie eagerly, staring at the young lady, Nat with the gun and you with the can in your hands —like Cain and Abel unknowingly setting their fates onto their offerings, looking at God (only one receiving the eyes back).

Lottie didn’t say anything, only putting back the bullets on the gun and taking the can out of your hands, closing it to give to Taissa and the other girls. She and Nat left quickly.

Van got closer and looked at you, with those orbs who could unravel all your secrets.

— You like her, don’t you?

You frowned, tilting your head slightly.

— Who doesn’t?

Van decided not to put so much into the conversation, she knew it would come to you at the right time.

— You truly won’t go with us?

You wanted to go, truly wanted to, but found yourself unable to go somewhere Lottie wouldn’t be able to follow.

— No, I won’t… got to keep everyone on track around here since you won't be able to do it.

— Ah, of course I would — she giggles, hugging you before starting to leave.

You stare at their departure, a pang on your chest: you did not want to have the group split.

Your mind goes to a few days ago, when Lottie had been redeemed, Laura and you at the lake, with Lee holding Lottie. You wanted to be present, but not to be a part of it —too afraid your dirty would pollute the holy lake.

It was a place of holiness, ever since the beginning meaning that things would get better, a symbol of hope. Whenever Lottie felt lost, she could find assurance and answers on the water —which, coincidentally, was your favorite place to be. You loved the idea of it all being washed away, cleaned.

However, watching them leave, knowing about the red lake… you wondered if even Moses would be able to bend such obstacles.

You knew nothing would remain the same.

— I'd be afraid to sleep near a window that big… — you said, staring at the huge window on the right side of the cabin, a heavy but very damaged curtain folded at the side.

— It's a better view than your scary porcelain dolls… —Lottie answered, throwing your sheep plush in your direction.

— Please don't talk badly about my daughters, it's a delicate subject! — you laughed, putting the plush on your lap, making Laura laugh too — oh...

With the sudden change of subject, Charlotte followed your vision, sitting down on the floor next to Lee and you, looking out of the window at the view outside.

— They're making a nest in such a horrible tree! It moves too much...

Lottie frowned, taking a step forward, as if the proximity would make her better able to understand the animal mentality.

— Is it bad to find familiarity without stability, tiq?

She asked, but her eyes remained outside, studying the way the wind made the leaves move, the branches wobbly and about to break, the roots thick and strong.

You listened, but your eyes remained on your best friend in silence, studying the way her bangs fell over her forehead, how her cheekbones shone in the orange light of the room.

You two both smiled into your fields of vision as if you two were seeing all the wonders of the world at once, an epiphany of beauty so close to the touch of your hands.

No man can bathe twice in the same river.

2021

You were not able to sleep, to eat or think about anything else but the blank canvas on your room. Twelve hours ago you had entered your office and weren't able to leave since, having the urgent need to make the perfect painting —there were already four finished on the corner of the room, but they weren't good enough.

Nothing was good enough.

Your stomach was hurt and you could feel your underwear wet from how much you've been sitting down without going to the bathroom or even moving, your body ached for a stretch.

You hear a loud noise, an animal scream, so you turn around, it gets you out of your obsessive haze and puts you into another one: one that searches for directions.

Your feet take you to the forest, the one only a few feet away from your residence, like your own personal (haunted) garden.

You smile as your bare feet touch the hard floor, stepping on rocks and sticks, you giggle with yourself, your arms moving freely, your hands dancing around your body.

You dance in the woods.

You sleep on the dirt —you feel safe at home.

#yellowjackets #itmighthavebeenlibrary #aching bones aching teeth #reader insert #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x reader #autistic lottie matthews #lottie matthews x you #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews

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holylottie · 9 months

Text

Rough fingers

Today, I learned that my mom is dying.

Personally, it isn't news, I've been a witness of my mother's mortality ever since I was six years old. She knew sickness before she even met me, and now I'm afraid the disease will be by her side for longer than I.

The doctors don't even know what it is, so there's no treatment, just thousands of pills to ease the pain. My house always felt more like a pharmacy than a home.

The doctors don't know that it is but I do: it's unfair.

It's being eight years old watching your mother shaking; it's being thirteen feelling her faint in your arms; it's being a fifteen years old staying at home to watch your younger siblings; it's being sixteen going through everything alone because your mother already has too much to bare; it's being seventeen years old willing away her tears while learning how to interpret exams results.

It's a lifetime of waiting — and waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting — for the worst.

I want her to see me graduate, I don't want to be the one who makes the other hair.

Please Gods, let my mom be strong enough to make a braid.

#itmighthavebeen rants #itmighthavebeenlibrary #actually autistic #audhd #sickness #chronic illness #mother #i just want to hug my mother without feeling her shaking #we stopped hugging because i cant stand to feel her trembling beneath my touch #disease #autoimmine disease #i hope in the next life we can both be butterflies no angry men shouting or tasks just us seeing the world for a brief but unpainful moment #im studying the health care area of my major i hope one day i can help people like no one helped us #im angry i wasnt here soon enough to do it before it all fell apart #alexa play mitski #poems

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holylottie · 1 year

Text

aquarium dome.

cursed!Cove Holden x reader

warnings: father-son miscommunication, cove got the curse but cliff got the sadness, kyra and cliff together for lore needs, monarchy, reader is the heir of rapunzel's tale, cross-posted on ao3.

summary: Cove Holden is the heir to the tale of Beauty and the Beast, a prince who is known to hate any royal event. You can share the feeling, but not directly with him, Cove is almost unreachable!

But no worries, you are not alone, you can share your thoughts with C, your mysterious friend who sits on the highest shelf in the library every evening.

p.s. hiding from oneself is not a very e-fish-ent move.

Cove hopped down the stairs, his ocean green locks flowing freely. Reaching the end, he came across a room full of furniture-like employees passing by from all sides, the sight made his stomach turn. But it wasn’t long till his worries eased, in the middle of that coordinate dance of organization was his mother, and her presence was more than enough.

“Baby!” her smile was so big that Cove couldn’t contain his own “I’m sorry about the fuzz, gotta get everything ready for the big night!”

The previous smile got a little smaller, royalty balls weren’t his favorites. No event with royalty was if he was being truly honest, but he did his best for the sake of his parents.

“I promise you don’t need to be socializing for too long, okay?” She hugged him by the side, checking the clipboard on her hands “go get yourself some food! An empty bag cannot stand upright!”

The boy chuckled, walking straight to the kitchen. He wasn’t a fan of eating at the table in the morning, it was all too lonely. In fact, that big place looked lonely all the time ever since…

Well, ever since his father decided to take refuge in his office.

The new chef made some pretzels for him, eagerly trying new things everyday to win Cove’s paladar, but the young boy remained faithful to Mrs. Potts, his favorite cook. Most of the time, he didn't know if she really cooked better or if he was unintentionally sabotaging himself to his preferences.

It didn't matter now, she could cook either way.

“The king is eating in the dining room, would you like to make him some company, your highness?”

Cove's head moved so fast in the direction of the servant that the world seemed to twirl for a couple of seconds. He didn't even remember to nod and thank the man, his legs taking him fast, afraid his father could vanish.

“Dad!”

He cheers, but his voice gets progressively lower seeing that his father was already up, cleaning his hands.

“Oh, hello, darling” Clifford gives him a side smile, pressing his lips. And cove has to contain himself to not take the butter knife and cut the tension out.

Two beasts staring at each other, the unspoken words deciding who was going to be the prey.

“Are you gonna come back to your studies?” uncertainty in every letter.

“Yes, the clock is running against me.” Cliff makes a sad chuckle and if the son wasn't so busy in his own insecurities, would have noticed the kind essence behind the king's eyes. “gotta go, darling, have a nice meal. Excuse me.”

“There will be no glory for this family, you should let that animal go.”

Both men stopped on their tracks for a second, but the king paid no mind to his child's words, leaving the room. When did you stop sharing bonbons?

The young prince sat in the luxury chair, his hunger long gone.

He was the prey today.

You were on the other side of the city, sitting at goldilocks restaurant. It was even more beautiful at night, the large chandeliers and the many flowers distributed throughout the place made it an unique environment.

The food menu made Leandra jump for joy, she had finally taken some time off from the sea and prayed to Poseidon that this time no one served sushi as Lizzie had at their last gathering.

She could only complain about the smell still making her nauseous, and how the poor little fish got through so much pain to not even be cooked.

“My feets are simply killing me!” Lee said while sitting by your side. She put her and your drinks on the table.

“I told you to choose the other one…” Elizabeth singing-said, joining you two at the table “But let's go to the subject directly: ball attire!”

The lady opened a huge smile, without being able to contain her hands.

“I am torn apart between blue and pink, to be honest…”

You and Lee shared a look, you two could give your opinions but everybody in that table knew that Lizzie would wear the one she liked in the end.

“I'm really excited, so much time since the Holden's had a ball!” Lee shared, quickly changing her expression “do you think Cove's gonna show up?”

Elizabeth and you took a moment to think.

In your humble opinion, you disagree with every single colocation that anyone on the royalty circle had. But when it comes to the beauty royalty, you were even more the black sheep.

Cove Holden seemed to live in his own world while the others wandered the earth waiting for his next move, authenticity flowed through the few poppy branches in his green hair. It was his personal garden.

You thought everything around him, about him, was so amusing. Definitely a mystery, but intriguing just the same.

“Hopefully he will feel comfortable enough to.” you answered, without giving time to them to add anything “what about your friend, Liz?”

“What friend? Miranda?”

”No, silly, Baxter!” Lee was the one who answered.

Lizzie huffed, not minding the jokes, but done with only talking about the new student.

“He is my friend, why is everyone so pressed about it?” her eyes rolled “I get it, I get it, he is the prince charming heir, I got the princess role, but basically everyone in Epilogue is royalty!”

Your other friend pressed her lips together seeing the outburst “I'm sorry, Lizzie, I didn't mean to upset you.”

The oldest shook her head, taking a deep breath and pressing her long nail in one of her fingers.

“No, no, I'm sorry, I didn't want to sound so mad. It's just...If I'm gonna sleep for a hell of eternity the least that people could give me is some liberty to make my own choices while I can, don't you think?”

Your hands were quickly to find hers, receiving an appreciative smile. You knew about complicated destinies.

“Well, I never saw anyone manage time better than you, but if I can say something, eating ice scream is the best deal to make!”

Laughs were shared between the trio, and the rest of the afternoon was light-hearted conversations and clothes search.

Shortly after, you all went to Epilogue. The school had its baobab doors open and the talking cricket welcomed everyone.

You said goodbye to your friends, having the first period free to collect your books and decide which extracurricular activities you would engage in this year.

The library was your first step of the morning, but without a specific book in mind, you started wandering through new categories that would satisfy your curious brain.

"How the lines of fate works", "Destiny: cause and correlations”, "Horses".

Horses?

You couldn't think that much about the topic, a pile of books crashed onto the floor a few meters away, you started following the direction but stopped when an alarming voice asked you.

“I've got this, please, don't worry” they said.

They were on the other side of the shelf, the last one of the right side.

“Is everything alright there?” you asked, waiting for they to get out, but that didn't happen “do you need any help there?”

“No, thank you, I'm gonna stay here for a while.” it was your answer “But I would appreciate it if you stay in your side.”

“Oh, okay” it was confusing, maybe they had a embarrassing situation going on “Well, so I will stick around and make you some company”

“No, don't worry, you don't need to do it”

Your face broke into a smile, they apologized a lot.

“You will be making me company in the same amount. And even more, making new friends on the first day sounds awesome.” you sat on the floor.

“We should begin by the beginning, it is always the same anyway” your voice got a little louder, afraid it wouldn't reach their ears “I'm y/n, how about your name?”

A few mutters escaped their mouth “Hm, would it be okay for you if you just call me him? Or he?” he shrugged, insecure in his ask

“That is more than alright, don't worry, I won't meddle in” you answered “Maybe we could decide a letter for you?”

“I can work with C!” his voice got less worried and if you pay enough attention, you could find a happy tone

“We should start with simple questions then, C.” you tried to keep the conversation going “do you like flowers?”

“Yes, I do!” his voice got excited “I have my own garden! My favorite is the poppy, but I like the yellow ones only”

You scrunch your nose, confused

“How can it be your favorite if you only like one color?”

Your parents and you lived in the center of the town, but on a no-way-out street. They were requested to stay close, even though they were almost always away in the lake house.

“Eugene! How can that be a cat?” you heard your mother's voice complain playfully.

“You gave me creative liberty!”

When you entered the living room, your father had puppy-eyes to you and your mom was seated haphazardly on the couch.

“Do you wanna see my mimic, sweetie?”

“From my mother's experience, I think I do not.”

“Meow-ch” he answered, tossing himself by your mom's side.

You walked in the kitchen's direction, but stopped once you saw pre-packed lunches on the table.

“no.”

“y/n, you have to try it again…” your mother pleaded.

“I can not! Is it that hard to understand, I just freeze!” your voice became hoarse easily.

Thinking about your biggest fear was enough to upset you.

“It's okay, we can go on little steps” they both went to the kitchen, taking you in their arms “slow and steady, hm?"

“Like a chameleon!" Eugene's added.

Things weren't solved with a simple hug, but you're glad to have people around you to make it a little easier.

A failed try was still a try.

All of your attempts to hide your new mysterious friend from your not mysterious best friend had the same result: failure.

Derek is, without a doubt, a terrible liar. For a time, you were almost sure that he could be Pinocchio's heir, until you witnessed his green magic.

But here's the thing about terrible liars: they are great at figuring them out.

“Okay, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but you can't believe that I will believe this hard-to-believe excuse.”

You smiled, he certainly spoke more than his tongue.

“So I don't have to tell you?” you arched one eyebrow, thinking the whole conversation was very amusing.

“Well, no, I mean, I'd be happy for you to tell me, completely happy, but I'm certainly not going to be mad if you don't.” He smiled at you “Even if I think the wise thing to do would be to tell me, if it is bothering you, it's definitely too much of a burden to carry alone.”

You laughed, nodding your head in denial, could ever be a conversation where Derek didn’t worry?

You two headed to Cinderella’s class, a non-regular dance lesson, but that was held every week before a ball. Author forbids anyone to ever miss a step in these routines.

Derek and you were a little bit late, too busy in your own conversation to carry about the ticking clock, and once you two entered the room, the boy by your side was scooped by the teacher. She knew Derek was the only one polite enough to not decline dance in front of the whole class, even if he hated all the attention on himself.

However, you didn’t stay alone for too long, another person was late. One point for destiny, zero to your indecision!

Immediately, the music started playing, and you looked to your partner.

Well, destiny must be really up for the competition, cause offering you a hand was the Holden Prince. A very uncomfortable prince, but looking incredibly charming nevertheless.

Two points for destiny, zero to your insecurities. You felt like a fish out of water so close to a big member of the royal council.

His face was flushed, more red than the roses you saw in the path to your house, and the previous duo-dance transformed into a trio. Him, you and the deadly awkward silence between.

He didn't mutter a single word to you and once the teacher dismissed the class, Cove was the first one to take his bag and leave.

You made a mental note to complain about it to your library friend.

The last lesson of the day was Introduction in Princesology and you couldn't think about a more boring class.

Sitting on your usual spot, you waited for your desk-partner. Placing your books and pencil case on the table, you notice a little note glued to the support part of the table.

“Delight me in your presence? — C”

It was a simple yellow paper, adorned with a beautiful sketch of a poppy and a happy fish.

A wave of happiness went through you, and you suddenly got up from your seat.

Which could be normal unless you are in the middle of a class, with the teacher making a practical example on how to spot the difference between a regular frog and an enchanted one.

She looked at you with a big question mark on her face. The same expression as everyone in the room.

“gotta go. Headaches.” you said, leaving the class, not giving enough time to your body swallow itself in embarrassment.

A few steps were all you needed to head where you were needed.

You entered the library already complaining, and sat on the floor, not failing to notice that this time a new rug adorned the floor.

“I just, I can't do it!” you said, frustrated, adjusting to the rug “I literally ran away and I mean, going in the wrong direction would have me dead! How can I be a suitable heir in these conditions?”

Your friend gives a loud laugh, but quickly hides it with a fake cough.

“Are you seriously laughing at me? I thought this was a safe place to vent!” you said, not really upset.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it! It was stronger than me!” he apologizes

“It's okay, don't worry…” your hands started making patterns in the soft fabric. “I'm glad I could make your day a little better, but my problems aren't really that bad, I'm improving my singing skills, it's all I truly needed.”

“You need to be a singer?”

“No, no, no” a little chuckle escaped your lips “I just need to be able to sing one healing song, nothing much…”

He didn't say anything for some time, and if you didn't know he was up in the shelves, you would have thought he was gone.

“You mean your song can make things come back the way it was before?”

“Well, kind of, I guess.” you shrugged, you never really had to explain it before, and finding words to it was harder than you thought. “It’s more like healing what once was damaged”

It was quiet for a while again, but it didn’t bother you this time. You started to learn that his silence sometimes said even more than his words.

“Do you think you could help me with something?”

This time, you were the quiet one. Getting up from your previous position, you tried to get closer to the voice, worried about him.

“Are you hurt, C?”

“NO! No…” he quickly added “I-I’m, it’s just… it’s very complicated.”

“I like complicated stories, you shouldn't spare me the details!” you sing-said, already finding a more comfortable position to listen.

“Well, I guess I already revealed a lot about myself anyway…”

C was thinking on the best way to start, at least that was how you take his silence.

“It all began not so long ago, in a not so far away land. The king had a nice marriage and a happy kingdom, not much more could be asked for in a simple man’s eyes, but he had a secret wish in his heart, that claimed his whole body and soul: to have a golden heron that wandered around his realm.

He went on long journeys away from his wife, trying to capture the golden animal. Until the ball in celebration of the queen's birthday came, and as her gift, she pleaded to her husband to forget about his wish, and he promised to, even if he didn’t understand her pleas, it was just a gilt bird, for who could ever learn to love such a beast?

But the golden heron was his deepest dream, he wanted it more than anything. He said it to his wife before they even married. More than anything.

After a few days of discussion, he thought that the best was to just leave it aside, to hide his ambition.

Until, he spotted the animal close to the sea. The royal ruler's land was full of living mazes, plants and trees everywhere, which confused the poor heron. The king shoots a straight arrow, craving it in the animal's heart.

It didn't last long, in his sight the heron was long gone, switched into a naked woman. His wife. The sky closed with dark clouds, a rainstorm starting.

He asked for her forgiveness while she asked the moon god for mercy. Yet it was all for nothing, the moon god condemned the man to be seen as he was.

A beast in the body of a man locked in the form of a beast.

The god made his daughter a statue. A material memorie of the beast's choices, holding a red poppy until the beast was able to find someone to truly love him. Until he was able to love himself the way he was deep down…”

You thought there was more, the history made you want to understand every single detail, did the king loved the queen? How about all the rest of the kingdom? Did it end up happily? C didn't give you anything more.

“I think I like your version better. If I am condemned to be the way I am, I would rather do it all by myself in a tall tower” he said, from the top of the library shelf.

You took a moment to fully comprehend his words, still processing the tale. Who was the beast? How did it affect C? How could he wish to do all of this on his own?

“What about your parents? You can't talk to them about it?”

He said something that you couldn’t catch, not hearing an answer back, he repeated it, louder “They never saw it. I never showed it to any of them.”

Even without wanting, your face contorted into a deep frown. It must be hard doing it all alone. You still couldn't imagine him a beast, everything about C was gentle.

“Not that I don’t have their support, but mom is most of the time some miles away for her queen duties. And my dad…” he stopped for a moment, in the silence, the only thing you could think of were the sound of bubbles “my dad tries his best but he’s just not the same anymore.”

His voice had a feeling that you couldn’t catch. Maybe it was the kind of mix of understanding and grief that only parents could give.

“Isn't it ironic that both our lives were doomed by flowers?”

For a few moments, you both were lost in your own musings, without knowing that we're sharing the same thoughts.

“Perhaps we could find our own seed. Make sure it grows happily.”

You smiled. C's own personal garden was now yours too.

“I have nightmares about it. I think I'm afraid of becoming something worse.”

He confessed and your father's wise words echoed in your mind. You took a little longer than him to gather the words, but you hopped to help that same way.

“You know, when someone passes for such a hard thing like you do, they have a lot of fear, and this fear doesn't come out all at once. They get out little by little, with every little laugh and hug you receive.” you said, mentally praying it would fit in C's context, your hands move freely while explaining, even if he couldn't see it “so these nightmares are the little amount of fear that your body is still holding. But you don't have to worry, one day it will all go away.”

“I guess I got to laugh a lot then!” the secret friend answered, holding to the little by little part.

“Well this is your lucky day! You have me to do it!”

He playfully laughed, charmed by your cheers.

The silence grew comfortable once again.

“Yeah, I think I got my own golden heron.” he whispered, smiling gratefully.

The reunion of Parents and Tales was a gathering between guardians and professors that happened every two months. The objective was to make everyone aware of the semester routine, events and the student's grades.

You find it boring but always come to spend time with Derek or Lizzie, except for today, cause the second your feets passed through the door, you excused yourself to the library.

And we're there for at least one hour, without having any need for it to end.

“I will give you twenty crowns for you to tell me which you prefer.”

“You can't buy my sincerity! That is a hideous move!” his words were interspersed with laughter

“Okay, I will just choose it then.”

His silence was short, followed by a sequence of “What is it? What is it? What is it?”

“Getting a handful of these brings a joy you've never felt, but don't leave me in your pockets because I may melt! What am I?”

You said the riddle, waiting for his answer.

“You brought me chocolate?”

His voice didn't carry the joy you mentioned. Actually, suddenly C sounded down.

“You don't like chocolate? I bought you the cherry one, but I can give you another flavor or…”

"I can't do this. I can't, I can't, I can't…”

C's voice suddenly stopped with a loud thud in the background, making your whole body shiver. Your brain was so filled with uneasiness that you didn't realize where your legs were taking you. You broke the promise.

You had got up, running to his side of the shelf.

And once you were there, in your sight was the prince.

Well, he did have a crown.

But he also had fins, gills and scales.

An ocean green fish, a moorish idol looking like in a round aquarium ornate with gold. In tiny steps, you get closer and closer, seeing that his little left flipper had an even smaller pink scar.

“No! No, no, no, you gotta leave!” he said. The fish. C. Cove? You didn't even know how to refer to him.

“Do you…can I…do you want to be held?” you kept going forward and back, afraid of passing any limits.

Cove could only mutter, and once you saw a puddle on the floor you started to freak out, losing any common sense.

“It's okay! It's okay! I'm going to help you, cove” you got close enough to have his little bowl in your hands, trying to equilibrate him for no water leaking. “You gonna be okay, I promise”

And this promise, you intended to never break.

The night of Holden's ball came.

The last time the palace looked that illuminated and perfectly decorated was when the heir was born.

Walls with expensive fabrics, floral arrangements in every corner and crystal chandeliers adorned the entrance hall.

The principal saloon had a huge dance circle, a big table that went from end to end with an enormous variety of food, but what made it perfect for a party was the impeccable vitrales that the room had. No other place in Grimmwood could ever compare to the beauty of the Holden's windows.

In the left corner of the room, a white staircase resided, shaped like a C, and you need to be honest, a curved ladder gave a nice touch to the architecture.

Not that you could focus that much on the building. Going down the stars was the Prince, his ocean green hair was looked by a fish golden clip, his attire was on the finest finary: a white ruffle shirt decorated with a golden and red brooch, matching with dark pink trousers.

The Holden family got together for the pics, at Merlin's request.

The camera facing Cove, his father's arms around his shoulders and every single person's eyes on that room were on him, and he couldn't breathe. He suddenly couldn't breathe.

The young boy's smile faltered, and as soon as the flash went out, he left the room, going to the stairs to find refugees in his mother's personal library.

He missed the sound of steps behind him, Clifford was in his tail, following him with a worried look.

The boy reached the second floor, entering the first door he could find: his father's office.

“you know what? I can't do this anymore!” Cove cried out.

Cliff closed the door behind him, watching his son pace around the room.

“You are still the king you were before! Still an egotistical man!” Cove's hands move exasperatedly, all his body attempting to emphasize his despair “you still only seek glory!”

“You changed ever since the cursing! You are not the same with me.” Cove’s words got through his dad's skin, piercing his heart more deeply than any dagger could, making it seem easy to kill a beast. “You never looked at me again. Not truly.”

The ambient got quiet for a while, until faint sobs were heard.

The king was…crying?

“It was my fault. Your curse was mine to take upon.” Clifford couldn’t hide the aching in his voice “I left you for a couple of minutes, I told you to not touch the fallen rose, but you’re such a young and curious kid, and now you’re doomed to this suffering like once I was. I had my time to accept that my claws were claws, but how can I forgive that your little fingers would soon fade into such tight grips? That I couldn’t protect you like I was supposed to? Oh, Cove… I would rather have this kingdom succumb to ashes than see you face the mirror with fear. I had to do something, That’s what I’m researching. No magic is powerful enough to be unbreakable. Definitely not with the strength of my love.”

Cove’s mouth got dry, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t feel anything beside his burning eyes.

“Even for the pain that comes with being different, sometimes, I miss my ugliness, and I think that some people may miss it too.” The older Holden took a deep breath, looking through the stained-glass window. “It's easier to be hated and love for afar than let yourself experience any good thing that you sort yourself undeserving. I didn’t want you to ever feel what I did during those years.”

Clifford shocked his head, trying to focus on the topic and gather his thoughts.

“But none of this is ever an excuse for what I did to you. My fears and regrets are many but not one of them regards you… I mean, except for the absence ever since it happened. I’m sorry, Cove. I truly am.”

And that was the first time in a few pages that father and son looked at each other in the eyes, the first time they were in the same paragraph, paying attention and trying to understand the other's notes.

“I really apologize about that, my darling. The last thing that my monstrous heart wanted was to put you in any kind of pain.” Cliff gave a sad smile “I love you endless, from the tips of my claws to the end of my nose.”

“You don’t love me till the end of your forehead?”

“Well, considering that my thought was that the best for you was to not have me around to focus only on the cure, I suppose that my head isn’t the best place to receive love right now.”

Cove shrugged “I think that's what makes it the most needed place.”

The dad’s eyes watered once again “There is no creature that your heart couldn’t ever bend.”

You went outside, your legs and mind aching for a rest that only a comfortable bench in a silence garden could provide. You kept walking, looking at the ground once you saw the crying statue that the Holden palace had. You were afraid that looking at it for too long would make you cry too.

You wandered aimlessly, your feet passing through to the living gates without a care in the book, that was until your attention was caught. In front of you was a red poppy field, an impeccable courtyard that you couldn't take your eyes away from, lured to the shining petals.

“Don't touch them!”

You jumped, having his hands on your shoulders quickly, but the panic was soon gone, you recognized Cove's voice, only this time, you could also see him.

“Sorry, they are incredibly pretty” you apologize, even if his voice is nothing but worry for you.

“Yeah, the moon god has some mercy after all…” He said, not looking directly at you, but not able to face the flowers too.

“Thought that some fresh air would do some good.”

“Already cut your hair?” he moved his gaze to your head.

“Couldn't handle the sweat.” you laughed a little, smiling wider to him. “How long have you been here?”

“A little bit. Couldn't stay that long…”

“Well, you did try your beast.” you smiled, trying to catch his eyes.

He stopped for a minute, confused if you meant if or got a wrong letter. The prince gave the first true laugh of the night.

“The stars in the palace seem brighter than the ones in the city.” you commented, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Oh, these are not stars” the young boy smiled, and you realized that there was something even brighter than the constellations lighting up the place “they are firefly's in lanterns”

A garden seemed like a suitable place for both of you to talk, little by little Cove's roots and yours were intertwining and the silence that grew between you two served only to water the comfortable relationship.

Cove got up and stopped a few feets away from you —and the field—, swinging his body softly by hearing the melody from the party inside. He was looking you directly in the eyes for the first time. It was a night for a lot of first time's for him.

“Care to dance with me?” he gave you a shy smile.

“I can't hear anything, we can't dance without a song!” you said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The young Holden stared at you in a funny way, you could almost see his brain searching for solutions. Until his lips started moving, he was singing?

He comes close to you, giving his hand in offer while making his own melody.

You chuckled, bowing slightly and accepting it, and found yourself in the same entranced feeling from before, but your sight was even more amusing and bright.

It started as a classic ballroom routine, but soon you entered the song making an energetic duet, twisting and turning around the garden, resulting in an exciting dance, as if the steps were engraved in both your minds.

The song got progressively lower, and once you and Cove came face-to-face, he approached your ear, in an barely audible voice, whispering

“more than anything."

#cove holden x reader #our life #cove holden cursed #our life: happily ever after #ol:ba #cove holden #our life beginnings & always #fairy tale au #itmighthavebeenlibrary #i also wanted to name it eclipse garden tbh #english is not my first language so forgive me for any mistakes #writing this instead of studying for my final exams #gb patch games #tw monarchy

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