𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜 - 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚔𝚒 𝚇 𝙾𝙲

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛

As I sat in front of my computer screen, anxiety gnawing at me, I couldn't resist the urge to dig deeper into the enigmatic "Morgan Witch Trials." With nervous anticipation, I began scouring through online articles, clicking on every link that promised insights into the history of my family.

Intriguingly, I decided to approach my parents, knowing that they held fragments of information about our ancestry. Despite their initial reluctance, they eventually opened up, recounting the stories my grandmother used to share with my dad during his childhood. It was a captivating tale of our great x5 grandmother, believed to be a powerful witch.

According to the stories, our ancestors possessed extraordinary magical abilities. However, her potential was thwarted by a curse cast upon her by another witch. The curse dictated that only male descendants would be born into our family, ensuring that no future Morgan witch would rise to prominence.

I dialed my grandmother's number, holding my breath as I waited for her familiar voice to fill the air. "Persephone! Hello, my sweet girl!" Her joyful tone instantly eased my nerves. "Hi, Nana," I replied, glancing at the photo on my screen. "Can I ask you something?" There was a soft chuckle on the other end, signaling her anticipation. "Of course, my dear. What's on your mind?" she asked, her voice warm and comforting. I took a deep breath before diving into my question. "What do you know about the Morgan witches?" I asked, my curiosity tinged with anxiety.

 Nana's laughter tinkled through the phone, evoking memories of her stories and wisdom. "Well, I happen to know quite a lot. But discussing it over the phone won't do it justice. Why don't you come over, and we can have a nice chat?" I could almost smell the aroma of her cooking in the background, a welcoming invitation. "Uh, okay, sure. Mind if I bring a friend with me?" I asked, glancing at Stiles, who had quietly slipped into my room. Confusion flickered in his eyes as he listened to my conversation. 

"Yes! Is it Stiles? I adore Stiles!" Nana giggled, her fondness for my best friend evident.

Of course, Nana had met my best friends countless times, but she always had a special fondness for Stiles. She insisted on teasingly mentioning that someday I would marry him. Deep down, I knew it was unlikely, but I let her hold onto that hope. "Yes, it's Stiles," I confirmed, a small smile tugging at my lips as Nana giggled on the other end. "We'll see you soon." Her joyful anticipation was contagious. "Dinner will be ready when you get here. See you soon, my little button. I love you!" Nana's endearing nickname for me made my heart swell with affection. "Love you too," I replied before ending the call. Stiles still wore a puzzled expression on his face, clearly intrigued by our conversation.

I chuckle at Stiles as he stumbles slightly on his own feet, clearly distracted by our conversation. "Who was that?" He wondered as he took a seat on my bed. "That was Nana," I answer, grabbing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from my wardrobe. "We're going to have dinner with her and discuss the whole witch situation." Stiles settles himself on my bed, his curiosity evident in his eyes.

 Stiles watches me curiously, propping himself up on his elbows. "Why the change of clothes?" he asks, his gaze lingering on me. I peel off my top, revealing my half-naked self to Stiles for the second time in a week. "You know how my grandmother is. Anything revealing, she'll call it slutty, and I'm just not in the mood for that lecture," I explain, chuckling. Stiles notices my lacy bra, which happens to be blue this time. "You went with blue today," he comments, his eyes lingering on the delicate fabric. "Indeed I did," I reply simply, concealing the emotions it stirred within me.

I unzip my skirt, letting it fall to the ground alongside my shirt, and proceed to slip into my jeans, slightly jumping to pull them up over my hips. Stiles' voice takes on a sudden confident tone as he says, "I could get used to this." His words catch me off guard, and I feel a flush creeping up my cheeks. It's clear that he's referring to my half-naked body, and the realization leaves me momentarily speechless.

I playfully narrow my eyes and roll my eyes. "Oh, hush, Mischief," I respond, though a smile tugs at the corners of my lips. His attention always had a way of making me feel special, even if I didn't want to admit it. "I got a show and now I get dinner. It's a great day for me," he continues with his joking tone, eliciting more smiles from me as I slip on the T-shirt. "Is that my shirt?" he asks, furrowing his brows in confusion. It was a blue Beatles T-shirt, one of my favorites. "Yes," I simply say as I slide on my Converse shoes. "When did you take it?"

"Err... Last week? I think?" I try to recall the time when I took the shirt, gathering my bag and phone. Stiles follows me down the stairs, and my mom glances over, rolling her eyes as she notices us. "Stiles, use the front door," my dad interjects without looking up from his book. "That's not as fun, Mr. Morgan, and you know it," Stiles jokes, earning a chuckle from my dad. "Don't forget I own a gun," my dad retorts with a smirk. "I could never. You've made sure of that," Stiles laughs awkwardly. I let out a sigh and grab Stiles' wrist, pulling him towards the door. "We're going to Nana's!" I shout to my parents. "Okay, have fun!" my mom shouts back.

They were definitely accustomed to our antics by now, but that didn't necessarily mean they approved of my close male friends who frequently entered through my bedroom window. I'm certain that if it weren't for my mom reminding him of our long-standing friendship since elementary school, my dad might have threatened to kill them during our freshman year.

"Your dad terrifies me," Stiles remarks, opening the passenger door for me. "He terrifies everyone," I note as I climb in, and Stiles starts the engine of Roscoe. "Can't argue with that," he agrees, backing out of my driveway.

Good news is, we've been to Nana's together enough times that Stiles knew the exact route to take. The bad news is that he's been to my Nana's enough times to know exactly where to go. How is that bad news, you may ask? Well, it's because my Nana has a tendency to be a little too forthcoming and has nearly spilled the beans about my crush on Stiles on multiple occasions. Not to mention, she constantly tries to play matchmaker and practically sells me to Stiles every time. This all started in 7th grade when she discovered my crush.

 "$10 says she's making Shepherd's pie," Stiles suddenly speaks up after about 20 minutes of comfortable silence in the car.

"$20 says she's making spaghetti and meatballs," I retort with a smirk. Both dishes were simple but somehow tasted absolutely amazing when my Nana made them.

 "You're on, Morgan," he responds, extending his hand to seal the bet. I shake his hand with a mischievous grin before we hop out of the car.

"You still drive that little old blue jeep?" Nana exclaims from the front door, her dyed light brown hair neatly tucked into a bun, and her bright green eyes radiating warmth and love.

"Nana, you better not be bad-mouthing Roscoe!" Stiles playfully chides as she pulls him into a warm hug. "Oh, don't you worry, sweetheart. My great-grandbabies will be cruising in that car someday," she giggles, making Stiles blush. I'm pretty sure she makes these jokes just to tease him.

"You're too adorable, Stiles," she says, pinching his cheek lightly before enveloping me in a hug. "And there's my button!" she coos, pulling away with a beaming smile. "Come, come! I've made spaghetti!" she cheers, prompting a smirk from me directed at Stiles. He lets out a string of incoherent words under his breath in defeat, pulling out his wallet and handing me the money as soon as Nana turns her back. I grin and discreetly tuck the bill into my bag, winking at Stiles before following Nana into the dining area.

"So, you want to know about the witches," she finally says, leaning back in her chair slightly. "Yeah, if that's alright," I murmur nervously, fiddling with my ring. Stiles places his hand on my thigh, his reassuring presence comforting me. "Of course it's alright! It's your birthright, after all," she dismisses my anxiety with a wave of her hand before delving into the intricate and lengthy story.

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A/N: OOP shit getting realllll. I fucking love her Nana already. wow.

Written 1/10/23

edited 4/5/23