#i mean even just a few years ago layla was coming up to my room sometimes to drink out of the cats water dish cuz the downstairs

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

I dont know why my dad prefers dogs over cats

A cat would really be a better pet for him

He never wants to do anything with his dogs. Which is a problem if you have a dog with medium to high energy

Like he's been getting so annoyed with chewby the past couple of days cuz its been hot and he doesnt wanna go out. I literally just had to take her for one short walk yesterday and she calmed right down. Like literally just take her for a walk and she'll chill on the couch with you most of the day

Like dude if you want an animal that doesn't require a lot from you and is cool to just hang out in the same space as you get a fucking cat. Dogs need exercise. And chewby doesn't even have that high of energy. We're just used to having a dog that liked sleeping on the couch all day and only going out to potty. Layla was a couch potato that could entertain herself if she got bored. Chewby needs enrichment. But she's a pretty chill dog. She's just very smart and likes to do things.

I've been alone with her most of the week while my dads been helping his friend move and I literally just take her on one walk a day and wrestle on the couch with her and she's chill to just nap or chew on her ball the rest of the day. My dad would take her out to visit with his friends a for a little bit everyday too but most of her day was spent napping or chewing on her ball. She has more energy than layla did but she's still not a super high energy dog.

[ohholyfanfics]

Ten Stages: Stage One| Tom Holland

Stage One: Realization, the stage where they slowly start to realize that they are falling for someone. Where Tom has a sudden realization thanks to his best mate Harrison Osterfield.

She was running late, a bit later than usual. Checking his watch once more, Tom found himself humming along to the slightly over-played tone filling the car. The hot Virginia sun causes sweat to form on his forehead; reaching over, he quickly switched the AC settings knowing she'd complain the moment she got inside the car. Biting his bottom lip, he felt a wave of relief wash through him as he watched her walk out of the building. Hair in a neat ponytail, her figure hugged by a dress that looked way too good on her. Her light pink blazer rested on her arm as she waved goodbye to a colleague before making her way over to his car.

"Ah always a gentleman.." she hummed in approval watching as he swiftly got out of the car and opening her door.

Giving her his signature boyish grin, he leaned close to her, placing a soft kiss onto her cheek. Closing her door, she couldn't help but roll her eyes, watching as he climbed back in. Tom watched as she fiddled with the climate control on her side from the corner of his eyes.

"You sure you aren't going through menopause or something.." he mumbled, backing out of the spot and soon driving them towards their weekly lunch date.

"Isn't that your job to know.." she hummed, pulling her phone out from her bag. "Plus, I think I'm a bit to young for that Thomas.." she mumbled.

"Well aren't you a doctor.." he huffed out as she took this chance to slap him across the head. The loud groan that escaped his lips was enough the have a satisfied sigh escaping her own.

"Besides the point Holland, how was the first half of work? Any life saving surgery?"

He shrugged, he loved what he did, and every day, he was thankful for it. Sure it was hard work to get where he was now, but here he stood. Now three years into residency, he had somewhat of an idea of what he wanted to do. After learning that a position would be opening up at the hospital, he knew this is where he was meant to be.

"Not really, pretty slow today.."

She nodded her head; Tom was a bit further along than she was. He was nearing the end of his term and now had a whole different set of pressure resting on his shoulders.

"A spot is opening up at the hospital though.." he mumbled once they were seated at the country club—the same country club where they had first been introduced.

"Wow Tom, are you gonna apply?" She asked with wide eyes. They hadn't talked much about his plans after med school; she knew he had some sort of idea of staying local. "Is it in the department you're in now?"

"Um it's actually in the trauma department.." he stated as she nodded her head. This was the first time he was actually voicing his future plans with her. It wasn't that he kept her in the dark or that she felt entitled in being informed. Tom was her best friend, and she just wanted to support him in any way possible.

"Wow that's huge.." she stated as he nodded his head. He knew she had been seeing or talking to some guy from the hospital. It was possibly the first time since March that she had actually gone out on a date. Tom doesn't know if she went on a date or if they even still talked.

"Not sure if it's something I want though."

Y/N knew that was a code for closing that conversation, so she did just that. In an instant, their discussion switched to the fact that she will be gone for a few days. Tom had promised to look after her place along with being on dog sitter duties for Layla. He hummed softly as she basically gave him a tiny little run down of her short weekend trip and promising takeout the moment she's back. He knew it was a code word for debriefing after spending a few days confined with her family members.

"Harrison's coming down right?" She asked once they were seated at their usual table. "He texted me asking if I'll be around.."

"Yeah, he's staying a couple days.." he mumbled, eyes scanning the menu though it was kinda pointless. He already knew both their words.

"Hmm, it'll be good for you." She mumbled, clearing her throat. As much as y/n hated to admit, she knew this time was difficult for any medical student. The ending was nearing, and the sudden pressure to have everything set in stone was terrifying. However, she knew as much as anyone that Tom was in a much different mindset than when they first met.

The Tom Holland sitting before her was different; he had a future planned out for himself. Sure, he didn't plan ahead like she had, but the small amount he did was a great start. She also knew that pushing him into making decisions was never an intelligent choice; Tom knew what he wanted and had all the necessary tools to pursue whatever it was he wanted in life. One thing she was clear on was that he was staying in Virginia.

"Can I ask you something.."

She looked up at him nodding her head. His tone was slightly different, closer to the one he used the morning after their last candle and wine night. The same night where she may have cried a bit too much in his guest room.

"That night at the beach, when when we made the bet, where you in a sense preparing yourself? You know, for like the breakup?" He asked softly, thanking the waiter as they set their drinks down.

She looked at him a little dumbfounded, not really knowing what to say. She knew what she had to say, but the words couldn't seem to come out. She looked at him for a few seconds, mind racing before finally speaking.

"No, I wasn't. If I'm being completely and utterly honest with you Tom, I thought Marc was maybe the one. We were together for so long and everything was so close to perfect. I don't think I really ever saw us ending.."

He nodded his head, ignore the slight sting upon hearing those words, not that he was surprised. It hurt him to know that something that she believed in so desperately ended without any explanation. He couldn't even begin to imagine what she was feeling or what she thought the moment everything sunk in. However, Tom also knew y/n was a lot stronger than everyone gave her credit for.

"Have you talked to him?"

"No, he didn't answer the first couple of texts I sent. So I guess I kinda got the hint you know. I'm not necessarily bothered by it, I mean I was in the beginning but now it kind feels numb."

"Shouldn't you like talk to a professional love.." he mumbled as she smiled at him softly. "I know it's in a sense traumatizing.."

"Don't worry doctor, I talk to my shrink about it. Im kinda coming to terms with the fact that maybe we weren't meant to be.." she mumbled as he nodded her head. "I just, I'm focusing on myself and getting through all this. If love comes my way it comes my way..."

"How knows darling, the one might be right under your nose." He chuckled, leaning over to bop her on the nose. He couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips, watching her nose scrunch up and eyes crinkle up.

"God I hate you sometimes.."

It's been two days since Y/N had left for New Hampshire on a small family getaway. As much as she wanted to drag him along, and as much as Tom hated to admit it, a weekend with the Y/L/N sounded pretty amazing; Harrison finally got some time off and was coming to visit. He was had just finished stocking his fridge with a few essential items the two would need before the door open and the sound of barking welcomed the blond inside the townhouse.

He couldn't help the sense of familiarity that washed over him seeing his best friend come into view. Tom hated to admit it, but he needed to see him, more than he could like to admit. After a hug that might have lasted a few seconds longer, they were both drowning in beer and one of Harrison's favorite dishes made by y/n.

"Where is our own personal pyschatrists anyways?" he asked before taking a sip of his beer.

"Went up north to visit family, something about get together or whatever.."

Harrison nodded his head, picking at the label on his beer. The two had done a decent amount of catch-up, but he couldn't seem to notice the lack of mention of his neighbor.

"Marc must be happy to see her.." Harrison mumbled as Tom tensed up at the name. He wasn't sure what Harrison did and didn't know. "I actually ran into him a few days ago."

Tom choked slightly on his beer as he looked back at him at a loss. He wrecked his brain on what he could say but kept coming out short. The one thing coming to mind was just blurring out how Marc suddenly stopped responding without an explanation. How he suddenly can't stop thinking about their stupid bet, and how every day the chances of becoming a reality increase.

"Mate, they aren't together anymore..."

"Stop bullshitting me Holland, Marc looked very much in love with her when I asked him how things were between them.."

Tom couldn't help but scoff, thinking back to the night she had shown up with too many bottles of wine and a broken heart.

"Mate he ghosted it, thats a pretty funny way of showing your love."

"Fuck, I had no idea."

"No one did mate."

The past few days were pleasant and relaxing; the two spent time together. Harrison was just what time needed, and within the short few days Harrison was there, Tom realized a couple of things:

One that he couldn't possibly live without both Y/N and Harrison in his life.

Two that he was going to take the position at the Trauma Department.

"Thomas Stanley did you miss me..." she giggled softly as he brought her into a bone-crushing embrace. The sigh that escaped his lips was overwhelming.

Maybe, you don't see her as just a friend, mate. I don't do half of the shit you do with her, with Jessica.."

"Shut up, Y/N.." he mumbled, slightly pushing her away while shaking Harrison's voice out of his head. "I got that wine you told me about.."

"Yum, it's good." she stated as she took a seat at the island. He couldn't help but smile as she leaned over, smelling the candle he had picked out. "Cactus Bloom?"

"Its a good debriefing scent, not too intesne.."

I don't bother to memorize small insignificant facts about just some random girl, not even if we're close. I'd understand a few minor details, but not all.

She watched as he poured them both a glass before handing her a plastic spoon and pushing a carton of takeout towards her. She hummed in appreciation, sending him a wink.

"So how was your few days with Harrison?" she asked, swirling the pasta around. "How's he doing?"

"He's doing, says the kids say he speaks funny.."

"He does speak funny, you both do.." she hummed, locking eyes with him and a wide grin. "But its a cute funny.."

"Funny."

She hummed, sending him a wink before taking a few more sips of her wine. He sighed, leaning back in his seat as he took a good look at her. She looked different; she was happier, lighter even. It was clear these few days away did good on her, and he was glad.

You notice the little things about her Tom, from the color of her nails to when her mood shifts. No one reads that deep unless they fancy someone.

"I'm gonna take the spot in the truma department.."

Her lips formed an 'O' before launching herself into his arms. Her lips lightly brushing the skin against his neck, causing his arms to hold her a little tighter.

Now tell me, Holland, how does she make you feel? Don't hold back anything Tom, it's me. You can be honest, mate. Do you fancy Y/N?

"God, Tommy I'm so happy for you.."

The way her eyes sparkled caused a storm to awaken within him. His heart was beating a bit too fast, the sudden urge to pull her into a kiss. The feeling was overwhelming as she started to ramble still in his embrace.

It was at that moment that the realization kicked in. Tom Holland was starting to fall for his best friend, and he wasn't sure how to deal with it.

Taglist:

@thenoddingbunny-blog @blueberrynonnie @bi-lmg

[theheartsmistakes]

Any Other Name

.Chapter 1.

The London Institute hadn’t changed in the five years since Cordelia had last seen it. Its pointed rooftops disappeared into the alloy colored clouds that perpetually covered the sky of London making Cordelia sometimes wonder if underneath the constant precipitation the sky was purple or grey rather than blue. The arched glossy windows reflected the view of the city with the billowing smoke from the factories, the lines from the bridges, and the diamond-like flecks that glittered off of the Thames.

It rivaled the Institute in Tehran in size alone, but otherwise, the cold, steel gray of the stones had nothing on the warmth and light of the sand-colored building that she had been living in for the past five years. Already she missed the way the sun warmed the inside of the building and filled the rooms with its light that sent fractals of color off of the beads that adorned the bright colored drapes in her bedroom. She missed the smells of spices, burning applewood, and whatever flower bloomed wildly in that season as she walked the crowded merchant-lined streets.

She’d only been in London all of ten minutes and already she wanted to climb back through the portal and take her grandmother up on her offer to let her live there with her in her small one-bedroom flat.

“We are a family,” said her father proudly when he informed them at the dinner table only a week before that they (he) were offered the position to be head of the London Institute after the removal of William and Tessa Herondale. “This is a family decision. No one is staying behind. We are moving as a family.”

It didn’t feel like a family decision when he removed her bedroom door after she’d locked herself in for twenty-four hours in protest.

One year, she told herself. One measly little year in the dreary, desolate wasteland that was London, and then she would be eighteen and free to make her own decisions including where she wanted to live.

Her older brother Alastair, the bastard, had turned eighteen only a month ago and had opted to remain in Tehran to help oversee the Institute until the Clave found a family to take over. Cordelia bristled at the idea of someone else living in her room which she’d just managed to decorate according to her taste. What if they turned it into a boring old office or Angel forbid a crafts room.

Never, in her seventeen years, did she hate her parents. Not for any reason for they were quite good parents. They let her go out with her friends any night of the week she wanted, they supported her in whatever protest or interest she happened to be on even if it pertained to mundane issues, and she rather liked spending time with them when she wasn’t training or out in the city with her small, but loyal group of friends.

Her friends.

They’d only said goodbye a few hours ago, but she’d at least hoped for one fire message of encouragement to help her through these trying times.

She’d scold them for it later.

When she’d come to London as a child during her parent's annual Clave meetings, the only enjoyable part of being here visiting with the ever eccentric Lucie Herondale. They’d become fast friends when they first met at ten years old and remained in touch either through fire messages, the occasional visits, or annual Clave meetings. Until about six months, when all correspondence stopped. Cordelia sent her dozens of messages, but none of them were answered. When she attempted to call from a city payphone on the landline she knew Lucie kept, the automated message said the phone number had been disconnected.

Cordelia wondered if it was something that she had done or said that upset Lucie. That was until a week ago when her parents sat down with her and her brother and told them of the Clave’s decision to exile the Herondale’s for their demon blood.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!” Cordelia yelled when her parents informed both her and Alastair. “They’re exiled? What does that even mean?”

“It means they’re no longer considered Shadowhunters,” said Alastair from where he sat across from her at the dining room table. He was rather unperturbed by the situation which didn’t surprise Cordelia in the least. He never liked the Herondale’s; least of all James Herondale, Lucie’s older brother.

“I know what it means, Alastair, I’m being dramatic,” snapped Cordelia. “What did they do to deserve this? Will has always been an esteemed member of the Clave and Tessa as well. They can’t do this to them!”

Elias, Cordelia’s traitorous father looked to her mother Sona for assistance but her mother looked just as angry as Cordelia felt.

“It’s all to do with their blood,” said Elias carefully.

“Their blood?” Cordelia said as if he’d just announced he was infected with some virulent disease.

“Bigotry, darling,” said Sona and glanced at him over the edge of the purple scarf that concealed her hair. “I think the word you are looking for is ‘bigotry’.”

“No,” said Elias. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Why not,” said Sona, flippantly. “It’s not as if the Clave is here to hear you. We’ve always been honest with the children, it won’t do to stop now.”

“Sona, please.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. This was an argument that they have had before and did not side with one another. “We agreed to be a unified front.”

“I agreed to no such thing,” said Sona and turned her gaze to Cordelia. “The Clave upon hearing that Tessa’s father is the greater demon Belial, has decided that despite her angelic heritage, her blood is tainted and we cannot allow tainted blood into the community in fear that her demon-side will eventually take over and she— or her children— will be responsible for something horrendous which is the nature of their kind.”

Cordelia gapped like a landlocked fish. “That’s the most idiotic thing I have ever heard!”

Sona nodded.

“Tessa is one of the kindest, sweetest, most good-natured people that I have ever met!” Her voice inched up an octave that had Alastair grimacing. She didn’t care. This was criminal. This went against everything she’d ever believed. Tessa was someone as close to an aunt as Cordelia would ever have. “Doesn’t the angelic blood dominate the demon side anyway!”

Sona nodded. “The Clave claims they do not have enough evidence of this and therefore cannot risk it.”

“You keep saying the Clave,” said Cordelia vehemently. “Who exactly are you referring to?”

“It’s all of them, darling,” said Elias.

Sona rolled her eyes. “Inquisitor Bridgetstock, the toad, is who I am referring to and the hoard of Clave members that he has fear-mongered into following after him. This is what we deserve for establishing a democracy.”

“You’d prefer totalitarianism?” said Elias.

Sona just shrugged again. “If it meant avoiding this lunacy, then yes, I suppose I do.”

Cordelia felt like screaming to release some of the frustration building in her chest. “What about Will?”

“His mother was a mundane,” said Elias.

“Oh.” Cordelia felt her cheeks fill with heat. “So the Clave has something against Mundanes, as well. So was Sophie Lightwood, are they going to exile her too?”

“The Clave is trying to keep the Shadowhunter bloodline pure,” said Elias, carefully, but there was a note of distaste in the last word. “Sophie ascended so therefore she is for all intents and purposes a Shadowhunter. Also, Will wouldn’t abandon Tessa or his children even if it meant keeping his marks. He was very adamant about that part.”

Cordelia slumped back against her chair and crossed her arms in a way she hadn’t done since she was a child. “So what, we’re just meant to pretend like they never existed? Is that what you’re saying?”

Both of her parents averted their eyes. Sona looked down at her hands resting in her lap and Elias stared at the plate of food he hadn’t touched in front of him. “Yes,” he finally said. “The punishment for fraternizing with ‘the exiled’ or any Downworlder unless it is for official Clave business is deemed punishable.”

Cordelia scoffed, but it was Alastair who asked, “Punishable, how?”

“It depends on the severity,” said Elias and meant to leave it at that.

“Meaning,” inquired Cordelia.

“Meaning,” said Elias in a tone that implied he was finished with this conversation. “They are not our friends, colleagues, or otherwise. They are our enemies and we are to treat them as such. They are working on making this into a new law and if broken, it could mean the stripping of your marks.”

Even Alastair’s eyebrows rose at that. “It seems the Inquisitor is finally getting what he wanted after all, a cease and desist on any camaraderie with Downworlders. He always did see them as a vile group.”

Elias nodded but reached over to put his hand on Cordelia’s arm. “I know Lucie was a dear friend.”

Cordelia’s eyes swam with tears at the mention of Lucie’s name. She couldn’t imagine what Lucie was going through now. Was she afraid, angry, lonely, feeling everything all at once? At least she had her family, but was it enough? Would it be enough for Cordelia?

“I cannot stress how important it is that you obey these laws until we can come up with a way to have them disbanded,” said Elias. “I know your heart, Layla, I see its fire at any signs of adversity and I don’t want to be the one to temper it, but I need you to be careful and believe me when I saw, I will do everything within my capabilities to fix this.” He looked at each person sitting at the table with him. “I may not agree with the Clave’s decision, but for our own protection, we must comply. Do you understand?”

“You want us to be silent,” said Cordelia.

Elias’s hand slipped from his daughter’s arm.

“Sometimes words are not enough,” said Sona on the other end of the table. “Sometimes we can speak louder with our action. We have raised you to be free-thinkers, to defend the innocent, and protect the ones that need protecting. We trust that you will use your best judgement on how to do just that.”

Cordelia uncross her arms and dropped her hands into her lap. She wanted more than anything to go to her room and try to send another fire message to Lucie; to rage about how ridiculous this all was, and let her friend know that she wasn’t alone. That not for one moment would she, Cordelia Carstairs, who once painted herself red and marched through the streets of Tehran as a message to their mundane government that she did not agree with the patriarchal rules placed on women, would go along with these laws.

She thought of the Blackthorn family motto: Lex malla, lex nulla.

A bad law is no law and how she wished she could claim it is her own.

But she couldn’t message Lucie. She didn’t even have a way to reach her and maybe Lucie didn’t want to speak to her anyway if she hadn’t even attempted to contact her in some other way.

“I hate this,” she said quietly.

“I know, Layla,” said her mother. “I know.”

“What of the Fairchilds?” asked Alastair, stirring his mashed potatoes around with his fork. “How did the Clave get Charlotte to agree to this? They’re practically family. Isn’t the blond one parabatai with the eldest of the Herondales?”

Elias sighed and nodded. “He is— was. He is being stripped of his mark this week.”

Cordelia gasped and felt as if she might vomit. “Matthew would never!”

“He didn’t have a choice,” said Elias. “It was either have his parabatai mark removed or be exiled.”

“He’d choose to be exiled.” Cordelia didn’t know Matthew Fairchild all that well, but she knew he wouldn’t abandon his dearest and oldest friend. The friend he chose to tie his own life.

“He’s not yet eighteen,” said Elias. “He cannot make that choice.”

“Charlotte is allowing this?”

“Charlotte has been removed from her place as Consul for not agreeing to any of this and is being replaced by Marcus Pounceby.”

“Marcus Pounceby!” said Alastair and Cordelia together.

Their father just nodded though his expression had grown increasingly tired. “Yes, it appears that if one just bends every which way for the Clave one can achieve a lot.”

Cordelia had to physically restrain herself from flipping the table. “This is bullshit!”

“Cordelia!” Her mother hissed. “I know you’re upset, but I won’t hear that sort of language at the table.”

“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t, and saying ‘this is crap’ just didn’t justify how she felt. “I can’t believe this is happening. I thought we were supposed to be better than mundanes. This feels like its been torn directly out of one of their history books. Next they’ll have use hunting Downworlders and demons.” She couldn’t sit there any longer. She couldn’t handle any more information that made her want to portal directly to Alicante and demand they strip her of her marks. What was stopping them from exiling her family next? What if they stopped liking her hair color or decided she wasn’t fit to be a Shadowhunter because she was a woman? “May I be excused?”

“You haven’t eaten anything,” said her mother.

“I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Your mother worked—“ Elias started but Sona shook her head and said, “Yes, just clear your plate and you can go.”

——————

In the week that followed that conversation things progressively got worse. It helped that she was in Tehran with her friends, battling demons that terrorized the night and training during the day, until that fateful night when her father declared that they were moving to the London Institute.

The inside seemed as dark and cold as the outside. She didn’t remember it being this way when she visited as a girl. It used to be so full of light, but perhaps it was the people that occupied it that made it that way. Now, it seemed as lonely and depressed by their absence as Cordelia felt.

She dragged her suitcase up the flight of stairs to the second story and shuffled down the hall at a glacial pace as if every step was a concession to agreeing to live here. The hallway had holes in it where pictures were once hung by Tessa of her family and their lives there. Cordelia could remember a few: one of Tessa and Will on their wedding day, another of Tessa heavily pregnant while hanging a Christmas ornament on the tree, one of Will holding a baby, and one of all four of them together underneath the Eiffel Tower. Lucie was only six in the picture and resting her tired head on her father’s shoulder. James stood in front of his mum with a half-smile on his face and a baguette in each of his hands.

The barren walls seemed to groan and sigh as she walked past.

The door she knew to be hers was already opened, a dull strip of light came out into the hallway. Cordelia stood in front of the dark red wood of the door and nudged it open with the toe of her boot. It squeaked on its hinges as it slowly revealed the bedroom inside.

Memories of laughter crashed into her like a blast of icy, winter wind. Two little girls sitting on the massive bed, the covers were thrown over their heads with a witch light glowing between them, as they brought their collection of dolls to life in elaborate stories.

It still smelled like her— like Lucie. A mixture of Damascus roses, ink, and freshly printed papers.

Cordelia sighed and dropped her bag at her feet.

The bed was the only thing that remained of what used to be Lucie’s old bedroom. Stripped of the colorful coverlet and sheets that Lucie had chosen, it was just an old mattress with a plush, lavender velvet headboard. The only sign of there ever having been any more furniture were the marks in the wooden floorboard where Lucie’s writing desk sat and piles of dust in the corners.

“It’s not much now,” said her mother whom she hadn’t heard come up behind her. “But you can make it your own.”

Cordelia scoffed. “I don’t want to make it my own.” It was Lucie’s. It would always be Lucie’s.

She felt her mother’s hand on her waist. “I know this is difficult for you, Layla, but we must make the best of it. It’s what Lucie would have wanted.”

Cordelia turned. “Please don’t talk about her as if she’s dead. I did what you asked, I moved here, please don’t expect me to be happy about it. It’s not enough that I have to stay in this house, but I have to live in her room and make it my own. I won’t. My stuff may be stored in here, but it’s not mine. My room is in Tehran.” She turned back around and glared at the large space before her as if it’d done her some great wrong.

Sona patted her daughter on the waist before releasing her. “I didn’t come up here to upset you more, but I feel I should warn you. The Inquisitor and the Consul are coming by in an hour to meet us. They want to discuss a few things with your father over dinner. I was told to tell you to please be on your absolute best behavior.”

“So you’re asking me to sit there and look pretty?”

Sona’s eyebrows quirked. “We need to support your father. He is the only one in the Clave that has any semblance of reason. They trust him, we need to help strengthen that trust if he is to help make sense of some of this nonsense. Do you understand?”

Cordelia hugged herself. “I hate them.”

“Hate them all you like,” said Sona. “You don’t even have to speak to them if you don’t want to, but you do need to be present. The Consul’s son will be there.”

“Augustus?” said Cordelia with distaste. “Can’t you tell them I’m ill or tired from our travels. Jet lag is still a thing even if you portal.”

Sona tapped her wrist where a watch should be. “Dinner is at seven. Dress respectably.”

Cordelia looked down at the black bike shorts she had under the oversized gray sweatshirt she’d thrown on that morning while she finished all her last-minute packing. By respectable, she knew her mother meant nice, pretty, clean. Look how they want you to look so we can attempt to impress Inquisitor Bridgestock and Consul Pounceby because even though we don’t agree with their decisions, we still have to abide by their laws.

It made her want to punch a hole in the wall or throw something out the window.

She pulled the strap for the scabbard holding Cortana, her beloved sword, over her neck and rested her blade against the wall beside the closet door, and walked across the room to sit on the edge of the mattress.

Never once in her life was she ever not proud to be a Shadowhunter. It was as much a part of her as the color of skin, her name, or the distinct tone of her voice. The angelic blood sang in her veins and powered her limbs to protect those who could not protect themselves against the darkness and evil that threatened it. Never once did she consider that darkness and evil could ever touch or harm her community; that it would never be found there. Now, she came to realize, it was not so far away.

How could she fight her government? She couldn’t, not without consequences, but how could she stay silent either about what she knew to be wrong and unjust.

Her whole existence felt like the inside of a snow globe after it was turned upside down and shaken. Now, she just had to wait for the dust to settle, and perhaps things would not look so different then.

———————

The Consul was the first to arrive.

Cordelia stood in the bathroom mirror smoothing out the dress she’d thrown in the bag she packed while they waited for the rest of their things to arrive from Tehran. The white of the soft fabric warmed her skin and brought out the flecks of copper in her red hair that she left down and curled at the ends. Her mother would scoff at the length of the hem, falling to the middle of her thighs. It wasn’t exactly what Cordelia would have chosen to wear to this dinner either, but she’d left her Fuck the Patriarchy t-shirt and ripped jeans in the box with all of her clothes in Tehran. It may be written in Persian, but the look on her parents’ face would have been worth it, and who knows, perhaps it could have been a conversation starter.

She was pulling on a pair of dark leather sandals when she heard the sound of voices fill the foray. Her mother’s warm, but fake laughter sent a pinch across Cordelia’s spine. She knew it wasn’t sincere, but she still would rather hear the sound of her mother kicking them out of her house rather than welcoming them in.

I am not being complicit, she told herself as she turned towards the bedroom door. I am infiltrating the enemy. I will find their weakness. I will attempt to understand them so I can use the knowledge later to destroy them… And I will spit in their water glasses and lick their bread rolls.

With a practiced smile, she marched towards the door when she felt the give and heard the groan from a floorboard beneath her foot. She looked down and carefully lifted her right foot and watched as the board rose back up.

Interesting. None of the other boards did that.

Carefully, she got down onto her knees and dug her nails into the crack around the board. The perimeters showed markings of being dug out before. She pried it up enough to get her fingers underneath and it popped up with ease. She slid it away and beneath was a white sheet of paper with a garden stone sitting on top of it and Cordelia’s name written on the front.

Cordelia looked up to make sure no one was coming. The voices could still be heard from the foray and dinner didn’t technically start for five more minutes.

She reached down into the hole and slid the paper out from underneath the rock.

Sitting back on her hip, she unfolded it and read:

50 Ernest St, Bethnal Green, London

The Old Clock Tower

February 3, at 10 P.M.

Cielu Rhonelade

Cielu Rhonelade. Cordelia smiled as she mentally rearranged the letters to read Lucie Herondale. It was her nom de plume for a time when they were kids and Lucie wanted to be like the author George Eliot and claim her work under a different name.

But it was Lucie, of that Cordelia was sure, and she wanted to meet with Cordelia tonight.

A/N:

This story can also be found on AO3 if you would prefer to read it there.

Likes, comments, and reblog are always appreciated!

Next update: Friday, 5/14

[random-writing-practice]

Alone

Content warnings: slight suicidal ideation, isolation, mild self-inflicted injury, amnesia.

This is not your average horror story. I know, not a great start. I’m sure that’s what they all say. But I swear on my life, this story is absolutely, completely, 100% true, not that my life means much now. You won’t believe me, and I don’t really care either way, as long as someone listens to me.

I’m not sure how it started. Was it weeks ago? Months? Time doesn’t really matter here. I’m getting ahead of myself — I’ll start at the beginning, or at least, as close as I can remember.

I never used to leave my room. At least, not often. Sure, o went to the bathroom or the kitchen, but I never really left for anything other than the necessities. To begin with, I don’t think there was a reason. I just preferred my own company. I loved to write, draw and listen to podcasts, so other people never really seemed like a necessary part of my lifestyle.

That is, until what I think was a couple of weeks ago. It seemed normal at first: I woke up, opened my laptop, and sat in bed listening to a horror podcast. It was nice.

Then, the voices that I had been listening to stopped. It wasn’t that the podcast had stopped running: it was still playing on my laptop. It was just the voices that seemed to have evaporated, and I was left with the dull drone of the “creepy ambience” that served to set the mood.

It was weird, but it didn’t bother me as much as it could have. After all, this was horror; it was meant to be spooky. The likeliest explanation was that the company was playing some kind of practical joke on their listeners, and it would restart soon enough.

At any rate, I felt that this was a good opportunity to go and get breakfast. I was always hungry in the mornings, but I preferred to eat later on, when my flatmates were done in the kitchen so I could avoid them as much as possible.

I went to open the door, but the handle wouldn’t move. I tried again, but it wouldn’t budge. I sighed deeply, and kicked the wooden door, then winced. It felt like kicking a solid block of concrete.

I assumed that somebody had locked my door from the outside. Some kind of prank. I was about to shout the name of the flatmate whose room was closest to mine when I stopped short. I couldn’t remember it. I had known them for years, but I couldn’t put a name to their face. Now that I thought about it, I couldn’t remember their face either.

I screamed, throwing myself at the door. I tried to remember the names of my other flatmates, but I couldn’t. It was like a hole in my memory. I tried to remember my parents, my siblings, maybe some friends, but there was nothing. I couldn’t even remember if I had any.

After a few minutes of kicking and screaming at the door, I decided to take a more logical approach. I walked over to my bed, ignoring the pain in the foot that I had been using to kick the door, and picked up my phone. My first thought was to check my contacts, but as I had come to expect, they were empty. I went to look on Instagram, but the images were replaced by solid blocks of colour, and the users had names like pretty.blond and man97.

I turned off my phone and looked around my room. It suddenly struck me how empty it was. Other than the twin bed, there was a small bookshelf, a rickety desk, and a chair piled high with laundry. It looked like a stock image of a burnout college student’s bedroom. That was when I knew that I was completely alone here.

I walked over to my bookshelf and picked out a book, hoping to use it to distract myself. There was no title or author’s name, and the pages seemed to be glued together, giving the impression of a single slab of wood bound in leather. I had nothing to pass the time.

I’ve been trapped here for weeks now. Days blur together, and I barely notice the changing time. All available clocks have stopped, so my only indication of time of day is the light that filters through the cracks in my blinds. I can’t bring myself to open them. I don’t want to see the nothing on the other side of the glass.

I am posting this from my laptop. This site is full of blank images and random strings of unintelligible letters and numbers, but it still allows me to make a post. My only hope is that it can actually be read.

My memory is getting worse, and I can almost physically feel myself fading. I’m so hungry and thirsty, but whatever is keeping me here won’t let me die. Soon, I fear that I will simply cease to be. It makes sense. I’m pretty sure that I’m the only person alive that remembers that I ever existed, if this can even be called a life. I don’t even know my own name. I think it was something with Ls. Lily? Layla? Laurel?

Not that it matters. Soon, whoever I am is going to die. I just hope that before that happens, someone will read this, and know that my life even happened at all. This is my final goodbye to the world I know. Thank you for reading my story. Goodbye.

[beldroxramscal]

Sway ~ part 1

Javier Pena x female!OC

Word count: 2.690

Summary: One of Javier’s former informants came back to Bogotá. On his way to find out why, he encounters some unexpected trouble.

Warnings: guns, strippers, mentions of sex, language

A/N: No one asked for this and I doubt many people will read this, but I was so proud of myself for writing more than a few sentences, I decided to post this. My first fic in maybe 3 years? This is also my first time not writing for a ship and my first time posting something with my OC (very exciting and terrifying). I have a little more in mind with this, but we’ll see.

English is not my first language and I have no one to beta for me. That is just a very long way to say: sorry, my English sucks.

Part 1//Part 2//Part 3//

However he thought, or God forbid hoped, this night would go, this was not even in his top ten. Sweat rolled down his back, as the barrel of a gun dug under his chin. The mixture of gunpowder, iron, and raspberries hitting his nose while a pair of green eyes looked up at him. All he saw were flames. It was hard to connect her to the woman he saw just 5 minutes ago dancing with soft blue lights reflecting off of the glitter on her body. Along with the soft smiles and white bodice, she looked almost angelic. It was a stupid thought back then, and it’s even more stupid now.

“Layla! I don’t think this is a very good idea,” a shaky voice of reason came from the most unexpected source. Sweet Valentina hasn’t moved from the door since she brought him here, and he almost forgot she was standing there.

“Yeah? You know what’s not a very good idea? Bringing strange men backstage! How many fucking times have I told you?” Layla barked back without taking her eyes off of him. Her voice was angry and annoyed, but she was a complete picture of calmness.

“Look, my name is Javier Pena–”

“And you are looking for Izzy. I heard you. Where is your badge?”

Oh, so she knew who he was. He just hoped that was a good thing.

“Jeans. Back pocket.”

Layla moved to stand by his side as she blindly reached to his pocket. Instead, her hand landed on the small of his back, and she pulled out a gun from the back of his jeans. Without giving it a look, she threw it on the small couch behind her. Finally, she pulled out his badge, and her eyes left his for the first time since he came into her dressing room.

“What the fuck am I supposed to find out from this?” She closed her eyes forcefully, scrunching her nose in frustration.

“I am a DEA agent,” he answered a bit confused. No one ever questioned his badge before.

“So fucking what? Is there only one DEA agent? Anyone can fucking have this. Where’s some kind of picture, name… something. Jesus. Where’s your ID?”

Before he could tell her that it was in the inside pocket of his jacket Valentina started slurring words in a panic. By the look on Layla’s face, she wasn’t sure of what was said either, but it didn’t take much guessing when her last words were, “HE IS THE POLICE?”

“Why the hell are you still here, Val? Just get out.” Layla sounded as tired of all of this as he felt. He had some actual fucking work to do and instead he was here. Trying to figure out why one of his former informants came back to Bogotá and make sure she got out safe again.

“I’m not leaving you alone with him. What if he does something to you?”

“And how exactly would you help me?” There was a silence for a few moments, and then he heard Valentina move. Judging by the sound, she moved very slowly. Layla’s eyebrows raised in question and then her lips turned into an amused smile. “Good girl,” she said finally. Javier tried to turn his head and see what was going on, but Layla dug the gun even deeper into his skin making him hiss. It didn’t matter much either way because Valentina stopped in front of him. His own gun pointing at his chest.

“Now, where’s your ID?” Layla turned her attention back to him.

“Jacket.”

He felt her patting the side pockets and finally find her way to his wallet and ID. She studied it for a moment, looking up at him and back down to the piece of plastic and then, finally, lowering the gun.

“Give him back his gun, Val,” she nodded at her. Valentina almost threw it at him before Layla even finished her sentence. He caught it and put it back into the back of his jeans.

Layla took a few steps back and took Valentina’s hand into her own, giving it a kiss. “Go home, love,” her voice was full of tenderness and warmth as she spoke to the younger woman. Such simple gestures and somehow it felt too intimate for him to witness. “I’m sure Agent Pena will gladly pay for any emotional distress he caused you tonight.” Layla looked up from the woman up to him again with one of the fakest sweetest smiles he’s ever seen.

God, he hated strip clubs. You always pay way more than necessary for much less fun than a fucking brothel. Still, he took out a few bills from his wallet and reluctantly gave them to her. Valentina shoved them into her bra and, with a promise of a call from Layla, left.

“Unbelievable,” he let out, the bizarre nature of the situation finally hitting him.“Can’t say I’ve ever been held at gunpoint by a stripper.”

“I believe that,” she shot him a cold look. “Considering,” she gestured vaguely at him, “your whole deal. I mean, most strippers don’t have the inside information you want and very few of them fuck for money.”

He felt her words burn in his chest as he lit a cigarette to avoid her stare. He pondered if he should defend himself, but it seemed like she only wanted him to know that she knew what went down between him and Izzy. “Where is she?” he asked instead, trying to get to the point of this whole night.

“Safe. Her grandma got sick, so she came to visit her. She leaves tomorrow afternoon.”

“I would like to see her and make sure she’s alright,” he pressed. He didn’t come all the way down here and got his head almost blown off for words of reassurance.

She studied his face, lighting a cigarette of her own. Javier wasn’t sure of what she found out, but after a few moments, she turned her back to him and started packing her things into a bag. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll meet you outside.”

———-

The second she heard the door close behind him her hands tore away at the robe draped around her body. The material was light, but it felt like she was caught in a vice. Letting the flimsy material pool around her feet, she was finally able to take a deep breath. It still did not seem like enough. It did not matter though, she had no time to panic and wouldn’t have until Izzy and David were safely out of Colombia.

Taking one more deep breath she took off the silver bra and thongs and exchanged them for the more comfortable cotton pair she came to work in. She hastily stuffed all the costumes she used that night into her bag and then swept all the trinkets on the table on top of them with one broad sweep of her hand. She was already annoyed at the mess she’d have to go through later.

In her own clothes, she made her way through the back door outside the club. It took a little longer to get to the main street, but still better than being stopped by patrons asking for a private show.

Agent Pena was leaning on the hood of, what she thought had to be, his car. He was just finishing another cigarette, his eyes already on her as she stepped from around the corner of the building and into the street.

“That was more than five minutes,” he commented when she was within the earshot. Pushing off the hood of the car, he walked to the driver’s side without giving her a second look.

“I was hoping you’d fuck off,” she muttered to herself before sliding into the passenger seat.

He started the car and looked at her impatiently, waiting for instructions. She reluctantly told him their destination, not exactly ecstatic that she was about to take him to her flat.

Silence fell over the car when they hit the streets he was familiar with, and she didn’t have to navigate him anymore. Her head rested on the window, and she watched him drive. He seemed tired. Bags under his eyes and even his hands on the wheel kept sliding down now and then. She smiled to herself when his nose scrunched up as if something tickled it.

Pena turned his head as he stopped at an intersection and did a little double-take when he noticed her watching him. “What?” he asked seeming almost self-conscious. It made her laugh.

“Nothing,” she shrugged and kept her eyes unashamedly on him.

He looked at her again, holding her gaze for a few moments as if he was testing her, averting his eyes back to the road when she didn’t flinch. “I thought you wanted me to ‘fuck off’.”

“Oh, I do,” she agreed, completely serious. “I’m also kinda intrigued. I mean, Izzy risked everything for you. I’m just trying to figure out what it is about you that was worth it.”

He seemed to be caught off guard by her honesty. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, and he shifted in his seat. This was obviously not a very comfortable topic for him. “I think you are giving me more credit than it’s due. I just offered her a safe way from Colombia with her son.”

“Sure,” she nodded, “seems reasonable enough.” The sarcasm in her voice did not escape him, but she just did not want to talk about that anymore. Both of them knew Izzy liked him more than she should have. She didn’t risk only her life, but also the life of her son and her grandmother. It didn’t matter now anyway.

“Is Layla your real name?”

She let out a laugh because the question was simply ridiculous. Especially after that little exchange they just had. The corner of his lip quirked up just a little. He seemed happy she wanted to move on from the conversation as well. “You are the big DEA agent here. What do you think?”

“So, what is your real name?” he looked at her again. The streetlights reflected in his eyes, and she realized that they were not as dark as she previously thought.

“Why? So you can go back to work tomorrow and try to look me up in one of your files?” she kept her tone light, teasing. He seemed more responsive to that, and it was nice to see him relax a little. Plus, she felt she owed him after holding a gun to his head.

“Of course not,” he shook his head, “I’m going back to the office right after I’m done with this.”

She laughed again, and he joined in with his reserved chuckle. “Well, I’m tempted to see how good you are and what you come up with only my address and a stage name.”

“So,” he turned his head to her and slowed down the car when she motioned to the apartment complex she lived in and parked right in front of it. “You think we will see each other again.”

“I think you like a challenge, agent Pena,” she winked at him as she got out of the car.

She closed her eyes in the cool air, mentally banging her head against a wall. Why did she always have to flirt? Barely, but still. It was like a curse she couldn’t get rid of, and it always came up in the most inappropriate of places. Like with a fucking DEA agent who fucked one of her best friends.

Pena closed the car door and caught up with her on the steps into the building. She led him to the second-floor terrace when he tried his luck one last time. “So you won’t tell me your name?”

“No,” she answered simply as she unlocked the door to her flat. “Izzy!” she called out into the apartment, but instead of Izzy, little David came running from one of the rooms.

“Auntie, Nat! Auntie, Nat!” he almost tackled her to the ground trying to show her little cars his grandmother bought him.

“No way! These are amazing!” she yelped, trying to match little David’s energy even if he just told Pena her real name.

“Auntie, Nat,” Pena repeated after the boy with a winning smile.

Natalia just shook her head at him disapprovingly, “that’s cheating.”

“Nat! I made di–” Izzy’s words died in her throat as her eyes landed on the man next to her. “What are you doing here?”

“Izzy,” Pena walked slowly to her, “I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

Izzy nodded at him, her eyes blown in shock. “Why are you with Nat?”

Hearing her name, Natalia took David into her arms. “Why don’t you two have a little chat and David,” she turned her attention to the youngest one, “can tell me all about these fancy cars.” The little bugger nodded furiously and twisted his way out of her arms.

“Yes! Of course! He couldn’t wait to show you,” Izzy agreed, kissing her son on the forehead as he ran past her and into Natalia’s room. Nat followed him in silence, only squeezing Izzy’s hand as she walked past her.

Her room was a mess with bags and clothes and toys all around the place. It looked like Izzy was in the middle of a packing up. Natalia made some room on her bed and sat down with David, trying to give him her full attention. It wasn’t as hard as she thought it would. David made damn sure she wouldn’t have anything on her mind but the story of the two racing cars.

It didn’t take long before the doors to her room opened and Izzy came in. She was genuinely smiling, content. “He’s leaving, but wants to talk to you.”

Nat nodded and walked out of her room and to the living room, where Pena was standing by the door with his hands on his hips. He didn’t seem very happy with anything that just happened. “What’s going on?” She stopped closer to him than necessary, but she didn’t wanna risk David hearing anything.

“Do you know how to use that little gun of yours?” he ducked his head down, bringing him even closer.

“I-I,” she stammered. The intensity in which his eyes bore into hers scared her. “Yes… Yes I know how to use it.”

“Good. Izzy doesn’t want me to go with you tomorrow.” He handed her a little white card with his name and put it into her hand. “If there’s anything weird. If you see anyone you don’t like or even if you have just a bad feeling,” he closed her hand around the piece of paper with his hand, not letting go just yet. “I want you to immediately call me, okay?”  Somehow he was even closer now, but instead of recoiling from him, she stood motionless.

His eyes slid to her open lips that were unable to form the word to go with her nodding.

“Good,” he said slowly, dragging his eyes up to hers again. She felt as if she was under a microscope as if he could see every emotion she was feeling at that moment plainly in her face. Could he tell how scared she was?

“Good,” he repeated when his eyes landed on hers again. “Call me.”

“I will,” she finally found her voice. It was quiet and shaky and downright pathetic. She should have stuck with nodding like an idiot.

His head was tilting back and forth as if he could not bring himself to get out of her space even though he should. There was no reason for him to stay this close to her now, and she wasn’t sure if there was any need before, but neither of them was ready to make the first move.

With a quick swipe of tongue over his lower lip, he finally stood up to his height, squeezing her balled up fist in his hand as he turned to the door. “Good night, Nat.”

[nabrizoya]

Thanks for the prompt, mate, @jb-lh. Sincerely hoping you enjoy this!

Prompt: 46 + “Please don’t say that about yourself. Don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so...”

Ship: Thomas x Alastair (Thomastair)

White Tulips and Purple Hyacinths

Ambling through Hyde park with Alastair Carstairs was not what Thomas had expected on a nimble December evening. As such, he was equal parts wary and interested. The London skyline was a melancholy orange blurring against the snow atop trees and buildings. It reminded Thomas of pumpkins covered with cream.

He thrust his fisted hands into his pockets. Silence ensued. “I like blueberries,” Alastair started.

He glanced at the boy next to him. “What?”

Alastair waved his outstretched hand towards a distant tree with budding flowers. There were scars that were beginning to fade on his knuckles, looking elegant on his caramel skin. “Those flowers you see there, they grow into blueberries. I know.”

Thomas looked away, not sure how to respond. Were there blueberry plants in Hyde Park? He decided to say, “I once had a blueberry pastry. It was nice.”

They walked along mutedly, each lost one another’s silence. Thomas felt dreadfully awkward; he should have turned back when he had first noticed Alastair instead of reckoning a conversation. It hadn’t even been him; Alastair had started talking after he’d returned Thomas’s curious yet accidental gaze. Alastair had been by the lake, looking at the ducks forlornly. Did he like ducks?

“You seem to know a lot about flowers,” Thomas ventured finally. He relaxed his fingers in his pocket before adjusting his mittens. Oddly, it struck him only then that Alastair was not donning his gloves. He wasn’t sure what to make of it either. In truth, he had no idea what to make of Alastair at all.

“I do,” Alastair replied, but did not continue. Many moments of silence later, he carried on, “I- when Cordelia and I were children, we grew up in Iran at the Institute.” Thomas looked at him, only to find stagnant brown eyes looking up at him hesitantly. “You would like it there, I think.”

Thomas paused. “I think I would,” he agreed. His interest in history and the slowly growing curiosity towards ancient architecture did lead him to the structural marvels of Persia. He had looked up the books on buildings and the history they contained. London had its fair share of history, but two places were never the same.

“You would,” Alastair confirmed assuredly, his posture and tone changing at the mention of his home. “The lands; every grain of sand in the deserts around, every leaf and flower, each trace of a design and creation has a story. It is life personified. You like history,” he pointed and continued, “you would like Persia.”

“I like history,” he agreed absently. He was more focused on how Alastair’s shoulders had released some tension. “I like languages too. I speak Persian.”

“I know,” he nodded and then froze.

Breeze swayed the trees, gently shaking the leaves that shed their little share of snow. A flew leaves blew into their faces. When they dusted away, there was snow still harbouring the side of Alastair's shining hair.

“Have you read the Rubaiyat?” Thomas asked instead, a little more determined to not let the conversation go astray. Alastair was trying; it wouldn’t harm to see how this discussion could take a different turn. James, surprisingly, was the one to suggest to give Alastair a chance. To tell him that Alastair was indeed trying to mend things. Thomas had then spoken to Cordelia who had only assured to make the choice his. 

“Have you forgiven him?” 

“I did,” she’d said. “I truly believe my brother is trying to make amends. He has...” Cordelia hesitated. “Thomas, if I tell you something, would you give your word to keep it to yourself?”

When he had promised his assent, Cordelia began to explain the days of desolation that Alastair had spent after returning from the academy. She elaborated on Alastair’s moodiness and withdrawal from reality. How he often resorted to spending his time by himself, making himself unworthy of love and respect and conversation. She mentioned the bruises she had seen along his face and arms as though he had been in battles all day along. Instead, he had been climbing trees, sometimes wielding his spears from the topmost ones as a part of his practice. His aim was very poor, Cordelia had said, much to Thomas’s shock.

“I wish I knew better,” she’d sighed. “He always held darkness in him, and I have come to realise that myself only a few months ago.” With some doubt then, she had further explained the origins of a letter that contained some details that were not Cordelia’s to speak about, a letter about which Alastair had extracted a promise from her. 

“I understand,” Thomas sympathized. 

“I have not,” Alastair said now, gazing at the flowers around them, “However, I plan to. Cord- Layla gifted a copy of it to me this birthday.” In a soft tone he added, “She wanted- She told me to embrace where I am from and not conceal who I am.”

“Cordelia is wise,” Thomas agreed. “There were moments where a few of my Persian words were smudged by my accent. She offered to correct me. I was glad that she did.”

His companion merely nodded, albeit deftly. Thomas felt his own nerves ease. “Like I mentioned earlier, when we were children growing up in the Institute, we had regal gardens. They are still there and when we frequent it as a vacationing destination, we spend time in the gardens.”

Thomas followed his narrative closely. “Our mother ensured us the knowledge of flowers and their meanings, plants, herbs and the medicinal uses that they can be put to. Cordelia knows them all but I’m afraid I might have forgotten them. We learnt perfumery too.

“I’m ashamed,” he endured. Thomas glanced at him sharply. “Years of my life, I wasted away in hiding- hiding behind insecurity and, uh, and bearing through childhood- and in the process, I have hurt people beyond repair.” Thomas continued to gaze at him, though Alastair did not meet his eyes. Instead, he kept looking ahead, staring off into the distance.

How was he to offer comfort to him here? Thomas looked at the lake and momentarily thought of James. He thought of the kind things he could tell Alastair. However, he was unsure of the meaning and value that Alastair might hold of his words, if Alastair held any.

They trudged in eerie quietude. Songbirds chirped high in the trees, weaving an evening melody. “Cousin Jem told me,” Alastair resumed, “that life offers a second chance to those who ardently seek for it. I do not know why I am telling you this; perhaps I want you to know that my heart weighs down everyday with the guilt I carry for being an arse.” He must have presumed Thomas would laugh at that, but Thomas gave no reply.

He wondered if he could assure him, to tell him to not think or say that about himself, that he was more than that, more than the guilt he carried. Those were the words he would commit to any of his friends with certainty when their esteem fell below their knees. Thomas curled his fingers and relaxed his fists. The words to assure the fellow felt hollow to him; he was desperate to say something, but the wound was still raw. Why hadn’t he turned away? Why did he continue the conversation with him? He wasn’t prepared.

For a briefest moment, Thomas wondered if Alastair really meant his apology, if that even was one. Rage had tore through him for the many months after the confession during Cordelia’s engagement. Now he only felt numb and empty. 

Despite the assurances he had about Alastair from his friends, he was uncertain about what to think of him. The tears that his parents had shed when the rumour began to devour their family was vivid in his memory. It was the first time he had seen his father, an excellent, kind and virtuous man, cry. His sisters were pale with anger at the audacity of the Enclave to even partake in such nonsense and his mother had wept, her dignity compromised by mere words. Just a rumour to question years worth of loyalty.

Thomas himself had felt invalidated, but Aunt Tessa’s words were always there for affirmation. He had brushed the rumours off and so had the rest of London eventually. It struck him only then how odd Matthew must have felt when he heard the senseless claims about his father. How Charlotte and Henry had faced their woes. Had there been anybody with whom Matthew had shared his grief? James might know, he thought solemnly, yet his gut nagged no. He didn’t think it was possible that Matthew had shared his pain with someone. The guilt of not being there for his friend began to wreak his heart.

“I- Thomas, I don’t expect you to excuse me. I don’t excuse myself- nor do I expect you to. James did tell me to give you time and I only-” Alastair rambled, stopping to look up and face him. Thomas wondered what his expression conveyed, for Alastair’s face shut up, his form taking on the edge of formality. “It is growing dark,” he declared. “I must leave. It was pleasant seeing you, Lightwood.”

Thomas wasn’t sure what had prompted him thought his hands moved on their own. He held his hand out forth, as if meaning to shake. “Farewell,” he said stonily. Alastair nodded curtly and they parted ways.

Later that evening as night fell over London, Sophie called Thomas to the parlour. He had been looking for more information about Belial, jotting his observations in a notebook he liked to maintain once a moon. Watching Christopher record his observations had encouraged him to write his own thoughts and discoveries down. “These came for you, mi hijo,” his mother said, ruffling his hair with her tired hands when he entered.

Thomas crossed the room towards the contents on the table. On it was a small bouquet of white tulips and purple hyacinths. Inscribed on the small card that came with the flowers were Persian words. They were easy for Thomas to read: the dedication of the Rubaiyat.

White tulips and purple hyacinths denote seeking forgiveness. 

Thank you so much for reading!

[ms-rampage]

Eden’s Gate: Left Behind Chapter 18 - Carry On

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Angels and Demons.

Word count: 3k

Summary: In the penultimate chapter Kate tells all of her friends that she has to leave Hope County due to a family emergency across the country. She has a hard time telling John because of how close they’ve gotten. 

Guest OCs: Paige Winchester, Sarah Dunham, Alissa Connors, Layla Michaels, Becky Taylor, Ashley Saunders, Ivan and Isaiah Wren, Ryan Cho, Dylan Paulson and Kevin Baker. 

Guest characters: Lilith, Archangel Gabriel, (Supernatural, in a dream), Sam, and Dean Winchester, Castiel [mentioned], Eli Palmer, Wheaty, Mary May, Nick Rye, Grace Armstrong, Pastor Jerome, Raphael, Michael and Lucifer [mentioned].

Note: This chapter is a clusterfuck. SMGDFH. 

*************************************

Kate and Morgan are on their way to the Wolf’s Den. They’re planning on telling all of their friends, everyone they’ve come to know during their time living in Hope County.

They’re leaving, they don’t know for how long, not sure if they’ll ever come back especially with the Cult running around, and destroying shit.

They make it to the Wolf’s Den, parking the car by the grassy area, and they make their way up the small mountain.

“So what are you gonna tell Wheaty?!” Morgan asks, trying to keep herself from slipping down the grassy hill.

Kate sighs, “I don’t know. Probably “Hey I’m gonna be leaving Hope County, I’m not sure how long I’m gonna be gone, it’s a family emergency and they need me, and Morgan because she’s family as well”. I don’t know something like that, or along the lines”.

“Aww you see me as family?!?” Morgan says in a sarcastic but also heartful kind of way.

Kate rolls her eyes, “Well duh, I’ve known you for over 10 years. We’ve traveled together”.

They go down the stair of the Wolf’s Den, the Whitetails being the first on their list to say their goodbyes even though they still have two months to do so.

They get to the bottom of the steps, and Kate almost walks into Wheaty.

“Hey!!” he says loudly, startled by their unexpected visitors. 

“Hey Wheaty” Kate greets him with a smile.

“Morgan, Kate. How are you two doing?” he asks, in an awkward tone.

“We're doing great, but we unfortunately have some bad news” Morgan says, walking past him, and sits down on a chair.

“What’s the bad news?” he asks, looking back and forth at them.

Morgan raises her eyebrows at Kate, telling her to explain to him why they have bad news.

Kate clears her throat, “We uh. Unfortunately, we have to leave Hope County”.

Eli walks in as she says this.

“Leave Hope County?!?!” the bearded man asks loudly. 

“Yeah, I got a call from my uncle, and there’s a family emergency, and they need mine, and Morgan’s help” Kate explains to them.

“What kind of emergency?” Eli asks, “If you don’t mind me asking”.

“It’s just my great aunt, she got into some trouble with some sketchy people. She made a few deals, and we have to help her out of it” Kate further explains.

“We’re gonna be leaving in a few months. Because that’s when the “deadline” expires, and we have to help her hold off it” Morgan adds.

They’re both great liars. No one. Not a single soul can know of the evil monsters in this world. 

Vampires, Demons, Werewolves, Ghosts, Ghouls. That shit will only freak people out, and only a small handful of people can know, and hunt these monsters. 

The people in Hope County will never know, or understand what Kate and Morgan do for a living.

What their families have been doing for generations. Saving people, hunting things, the family business. 

It was a close one with John getting possessed, Kate was glad Castiel worked his angel magic, and wiped his memory of the whole thing.

One of the perks on being besties with an Angel of the Lord. 

Kate clears her throat again, “November 2nd. That’s when we’re leaving for Jackson, then we’re going to Pennsylvania because that’s where she lives”.

Eli, and Wheaty look back and forth at the two huntresses.

“As much as we don’t want to leave, especially with the Cult terrorizing everyone” Morgan says.

“A lot of shit going on” Kate adds.

They stayed at the Wolf’s Den for another half an hour, and they moved on to all their other friends.

Luckily Nick Rye, Grace, Pastor Jerome and Mary May were all at the Spread Eagle. 

You can cut the tension with a knife, after what happened several months early with the whole atonement bullshit, and Saleos.

Mary pretty much glared at Kate the whole time, Nick and Grace didn’t even look back to look at her, and Pastor Jerome just looked like he didn’t want to talk about what happened that day. 

“Hey” Kate says, greeting the Holland Valley business owners, and residents.

“Hey” Mary says with a hint of anger in her voice.

Morgan takes the lead with this since none of them want to hear Kate out on this.

“Listen” she starts off, “Kate and I are leaving Hope County in a few months. Family emergency, we’re telling you guys because we don’t want you guys to think we just, up and left Montana out of selfishness”.

As Mary cleans glasses, “So after everything that has happened. You’re just gonna leave like the fucking Cult is gonna let you?!”.

Morgan and Kate both look at each other, then back at Mary.

“Oh wait. That’s right you can because you’re fucking dating John Seed” she yells angrily towards Kate.

Kate snaps back, “Okay first of all I didn’t even fucking know he was involved with that shit!!”.

“Bullshit!!!” Mary snaps, almost breaking a glass “You seriously didn’t even know about the Cult, or the atonements?. Or any of that shit?”.

“What John did to me was un-fucking-forgiveable” Nick says, “I’m surpised you defended him, and was still dating him after all that. Hell I don’t know why you even got with him in the first place”. 

Nick doesn’t even look back at them when he says this, not even turning his head in the slightest.

“I broke things off with John shortly after that. I never spoke to him after all of that” she defends herself but it wasn’t good enough.

“That still doesn’t make things any better Kate!!” Mary adds, “I don’t know if you’re blind, or just stupid for defending that man. After what him and his family have done to all of us, and you still justify his actions”.

“I’m starting to think you two leaving is for your own selfishness” Grace says, not looking back at them. 

Pastor Jerome turns to them, and says “Some of us can forgive you, but we won’t forget. We won’t forget the pain the Seeds have done to us all. The wrath, pain and sorrow they put on all of us will be justified”.

Kate and Morgan turn around, and are about to leave the bar. Kate’s surprised Jeorme didn’t bring up her citing an exorcism during her atonement. 

Mary mutters as she’s cleaning glasses, “I thought you would be like your mother when I first met her. But turns out you're both the same”.

Kate stops, and turns to her, “What did you say?!?. My mother?!?”. 

She walks up to the counter, “What do you mean “I would be like my mother?”.”

“Mandy, or should I say Mother Amanda. She was a part of the Cult, she was The Mother, Joseph picked her. They were the Mother and Father of Eden’s Gate” Mary says, “That was 6-7 years ago”. 

“Bullshit!!” Kate yells, Morgan tries to hold her back, “My mother would never be a part of a fucking Cult. Be a goddamn peggie?!. Fuck no!!”. 

Mary scoffs, “She betrayed us, she betrayed the Cult, and look what happened to her. Joseph had some of his followers kill her”.

Kate's voice starts to tremble, and takes a deep breath “Lies. all fucking lies!!!. She wouldn’t let a bunch of inbred hillbilly motherfuckers kill her”.

Morgan practically drags Kate out of the bar, and back to their car.

“Kate, you have to calm down!!!” Morgan tells her.

Pacing, aggressively scratching her head, “That’s all bullshit. My mom would never join the fucking Cult. I know she’s not dead, I know it. My uncle Brent said he needed her help as well with the whole thing with Aunt Flora”.

“Okay. Kate you need to relax. Let’s go home, and you can sleep for a bit. Then we can tell the others later”. 

Morgan puts Kate in the passenger side, and drives them home.

Kate goes into her room, and tries to sleep for a bit.

1:30 in the afternoon, and she still has a lot more people to tell about her departure in a few months. 

Tossing and turning in her midday nap. She had a very eerie about an old enemy demon that at one time needed to harvest her soul because she was, or she still is the true vessel to this particular demon. 

Lilith the first demon to be created by Lucifer himself. 

 That bitch demon that her cousin Sam had killed several years earlier, she was resurrected by Crowley, or Alister, or Asmodeus one of them demon fuckers brought her back, along with Abaddon. 

-The dream- 

Unable to sleep even her own dream, or should I say nightmare, Kate has a hard time sleeping.

“Hello Katella” a female voice says.

Kate wakes up, sitting up in her bed, and sees Lilith.

“What do you want?!?” she asks, angrily. Narrowing her eyes at the demon.

“You already know what I want” she says, walking towards her, and sitting at the edge of her bed. 

“And you already know the answer” she replies, “It will always be no”.

“I will get you to say yes” she replies in a threatening tone. 

Kate scoffs, rolling her eyes “I won’t let you harvest my soul, my body. I won’t let you. No matter what you do”.

Lilith stands up, walking in front of the bed, and says. 

“I know how much you love your sister. Paige. Her and Abaddon are basically counterparts, just like how Sam and Lucifer, Dean and Michael. You and I”. 

Kate stands up from her bed, “Paige will never let Abaddon harvest her soul, and I won’t let you. The whole thing with Sam, Dean, Lucifer and Michael was a different story”.

Lilith’s eyes turn white, “I will harvest your soul. No matter what. You’re my other half, my true vessel.”

“You need my consent to harvest my soul. You can stay in that meatsuit of yours”.

Lilith scoffs, walking towards her “I don’t need your consent. I can just harvest your soul. Just like any other demon”.

“Not while I’m around” a male voice says, “Stay away from my human”.

Lilith stops, and turns around. Sees Archangel Gabriel. 

She groans in annoyance, rolling her eyes “Of course. One of Heaven’s feathery boys”.

Even though this is all a dream, Kate is relieved that her Trickster Archangel best friend is here.

He narrows his eyes at the demon, “As Kate’s guardian Angel. I won’t let you anywhere near her pure, good soul”.

Lilith laughs softly, “And what are you gonna do about it?!?. By the way how was being tortured by Asmodeus?”. 

She smirks, and that was a huge mistake the first demon ever to be created has ever said.

“He fed off of my grace for years!!” he yells, his eyes turning purplish white.

He banishes Lilith away with a bright light. Kate covers her eyes from the blinding light of the Archangel. 

Turning back to face the Archangel, he stares at her with those whiskey color eyes. 

They stare at each other, “Gabriel?” she whispers.

He slowly approaches her, placing his hand on her cheek. Kate practically melts to his touch.

Sighing softly, closing her eyes. The heat radiating off this angel is very comforting.

Gabriel slowly pulls her closer to him, and-

-end of dream-

Kate wakes up from her very good dream, she’s been having it for a couple weeks now. 

It always ends the same way. Gabriel banishing Lilith to Hell probably, caresses her cheek, and pulls her in closer to him. 

Probably to kiss her, because Gabe is her guardian Angel, Michael being Paige’s and her mothers is unknown probably Raphael. 

That dream is probably telling her something, a sign or some kind of foreshadowing. 

Later that day, her and Morgan leave to hang out with their group of friends. 3:30pm. 

They all go to the campsite they went to several months earlier when Kate first met Wheaty.

“You guys are leaving?!?” Sarah asks.

Kate and Morgan nod their heads, “Yeah, we are”.

“How are you guys gonna get out?!” Ivan asks.

“We’re not sure yet” Morgan answers. 

“We’re driving out. Obviously” Kate says.

They all sit around an unlit bonfire, chatting. Going over their two friends that are leaving. As they're talking, a Cult truck stops near their campsite.

4 peggies come out, all male, rifles in hands. They approach the group of young adults.

“Kate Winchester!!” one of them calls out.

The group of friends turn to Kate, except Morgan her eyes are locked on the 4 peggies. 

“What do you want?!?” she asks. 

“John wants you to go by the church. Now” another peggie answers. 

Kate and Morgan turn to each other.

She gets up, and they guide her to their truck, climbing into the backseat, and they drive out of the Whitetails, and back to Holland Valley. 

Dropping her off in front of Falls End church.

Unsure what John wants, or what he wants to talk about. 

She walks inside, and sees John with his back to her, standing in front of the panel.

Having flashbacks to 5 in half months ago, when all that shit happened. 

“Hey John” she says, her voice echoing. 

He turns around, a huge smile on his face.

“Hello Katie” he says, with enthusiasm, and excitement in his voice. 

She walks towards him, swinging her hands at her sides, clapping them.

“Soo” she says, “Why did you call me here?”.

He sighs loudly, echoing throughout the church. 

“It’s a surprise” he says with a hint of malice in his voice. 

Kate raises her eyebrows at him, “Really?. Am I gonna like it?!?”. 

John chuckles at her cuteness, the innocence in her voice. How cute, naive and innocent she sounds. 

“You’re gonna love it” he says with emphasis on the word love. 

 “Well I look forward to seeing it” she replies, stepping closer to him.

He stares at her with a smirk, “Well to give you a few hints, it might ring a bell, and it’s gonna be very engaging”.

Kate awkwardly chuckles at him, and John notices something is off about her.

“Darlin’. What’s wrong?” he asks, moving her hair away from her face.

Stammering over her words, trying to hold back tears.

“Its-It’s nothing” she lies, John catches on.

“Don’t lie to me sweetheart. What’s wrong?” he places his hand on the back of her head. 

She looks down at the ground, and before she could tell him. Her phone rings, she pulls it out, and sees her sister's name.

Her eyes widened at her phone screen, she looks up at John.

“I’m sorry I really need to take this” she tells him. He nods his head. 

She steps away, standing near the front door of the Falls End church, and answers her phone. 

“Hey!” she says into her phone.

Paige on the other end, sounding like she just woke up.

“You called, and gave me a very lecural voicemail” she says in a groggily voice, “What’s so important?”.

“Uncle Brent called me. Him, aunt Laura, our cousins, and Barbara need our help” she explains to her older sister.

“For what?!” she asks, voice still groggily.

“Our great aunt Flora made a deal with a demon, and she needs our help” she whispers, so that John can’t hear her.

“Okay. So we head back to Jackson, and leave when?” she asks.

“November 2nd. That’s when we leave to Philly” she whispers to her.

Paige sighs, “Okay. I’ll call Brent, and get more details. But we’re gonna talk out our issues, and you’re gonna have to leave school”.

“Well I graduated, and have my Master of Science degree in Psychology” she tells her, “So me leaving school won’t be necessary”. 

They hang up, and Kate turns back to John who is leaning against the panel. His head tilted to the side. Smirk on his face.

“Sorry that was my sister” she tells him.

He can still see the sadness, and worried in her eyes.

“Katie, darlin’. Answer my questions, what’s wrong?.

She sighs, looking down at the floor, “I have to leave Hope County”.

The expression on his face changes from happy to sadness mixed with anger.

“No. No you can’t leave me” he tells her, his voice getting upset, “Why are you leaving me?!?”.

“I don’t want to. My family needs me” she further explains to him, “They need my help. A family member is in deep trouble with some sketchy people”.

John shakes his head, tears starting to form in his eyes, “You can’t leave. I love you, I need you” his voice going hoarse.

“You mean a lot to me. You changed me Kate. I love you, I need you here with me”.

Kate starts to cry, her eyes going red. “I love you too. I can’t leave my family hanging. I’ll come back when we return from Pennsylvania. I have never loved, or cared for anyone before. You’re my first real boyfriend, you took my virginity. Everything we’ve done and been through was all real”.

John tries to smile through his tears. He loves Kate, he really does love her. 

He never wanted her to go through any pain. He wants her to stay in Hope County with him.

But he knows how family oriented she is, and that’s why he loves her. He wants to have a family with her. Grow old together in the ranch house, or maybe move to the West Coast, and start their family. 

The possibilities are endless for them, but he unfortunately has to accept that she has to leave in a few months, and he wants to spend every moment with her.  

[bluepink-y]

Sway - part 1 (maybe?)

Javier Pena x female!OC

Word count: 2.690

Summary: One of Javier’s former informants came back to Bogotá. On his way to get to find out why, he encounters some unexpected trouble.

Warnings: guns, strippers, mentions of sex, language

A/N: No one asked for this and I doubt many people will read this, but I was so proud of myself for writing more than a few sentences, I decided to post this. My first fic in maybe 3 years? This is also my first time not writing for a ship and my first time posting something with my OC (very exciting and terrifying). I have a little more in mind with this, but we’ll see.

English is not my first language and I have no one to beta for me. That is just a very long way to say: sorry, my English sucks.

However he thought, or God forbid hoped, this night would go, this was not even in his top ten. Sweat rolled down his back, as the barrel of a gun dug under his chin. The mixture of gunpowder, iron, and raspberries hitting his nose while a pair of green eyes looked up at him. All he saw were flames. It was hard to connect her to the woman he saw just 5 minutes ago dancing with soft blue lights reflecting off of the glitter on her body. Along with the soft smiles and white bodice, she looked almost angelic. It was a stupid thought back then, and it’s even more stupid now.

“Layla! I don’t think this is a very good idea,” a shaky voice of reason came from the most unexpected source. Sweet Valentina hasn’t moved from the door since she brought him here, and he almost forgot she was standing there.

“Yeah? You know what’s not a very good idea? Bringing strange men backstage! How many fucking times have I told you?” Layla barked back without taking her eyes off of him. Her voice was angry and annoyed, but she was a complete picture of calmness.

“Look, my name is Javier Pena--”

“And you are looking for Izzy. I heard you. Where is your badge?”

Oh, so she knew who he was. He just hoped that was a good thing.

“Jeans. Back pocket.”

Layla moved to stand by his side as she blindly reached to his pocket. Instead, her hand landed on the small of his back, and she pulled out a gun from the back of his jeans. Without giving it a look, she threw it on the small couch behind her. Finally, she pulled out his badge, and her eyes left his for the first time since he came into her dressing room.

“What the fuck am I supposed to find out from this?” She closed her eyes forcefully, scrunching her nose in frustration.

“I am a DEA agent,” he answered a bit confused. No one ever questioned his badge before.

“So fucking what? Is there only one DEA agent? Anyone can fucking have this. Where’s some kind of picture, name… something. Jesus. Where’s your ID?”

Before he could tell her that it was in the inside pocket of his jacket Valentina started slurring words in a panic. By the look on Layla’s face, she wasn’t sure of what was said either, but it didn’t take much guessing when her last words were, “HE IS THE POLICE?”

“Why the hell are you still here, Val? Just get out.” Layla sounded as tired of all of this as he felt. He had some actual fucking work to do and instead he was here. Trying to figure out why one of his former informants came back to Bogotá and make sure she got out safe again.

“I’m not leaving you alone with him. What if he does something to you?”

“And how exactly would you help me?” There was a silence for a few moments, and then he heard Valentina move. Judging by the sound, she moved very slowly. Layla’s eyebrows raised in question and then her lips turned into an amused smile. “Good girl,” she said finally. Javier tried to turn his head and see what was going on, but Layla dug the gun even deeper into his skin making him hiss. It didn’t matter much either way because Valentina stopped in front of him. His own gun pointing at his chest.

“Now, where’s your ID?” Layla turned her attention back to him.

“Jacket.”

He felt her patting the side pockets and finally find her way to his wallet and ID. She studied it for a moment, looking up at him and back down to the piece of plastic and then, finally, lowering the gun.

“Give him back his gun, Val,” she nodded at her. Valentina almost threw it at him before Layla even finished her sentence. He caught it and put it back into the back of his jeans.

Layla took a few steps back and took Valentina’s hand into her own, giving it a kiss. “Go home, love,” her voice was full of tenderness and warmth as she spoke to the younger woman. Such simple gestures and somehow it felt too intimate for him to witness. “I’m sure Agent Pena will gladly pay for any emotional distress he caused you tonight.” Layla looked up from the woman up to him again with one of the fakest sweetest smiles he’s ever seen.

God, he hated strip clubs. You always pay way more than necessary for much less fun than a fucking brothel. Still, he took out a few bills from his wallet and reluctantly gave them to her. Valentina shoved them into her bra and, with a promise of a call from Layla, left.

“Unbelievable,” he let out, the bizarre nature of the situation finally hitting him.“Can’t say I’ve ever been held at gunpoint by a stripper.”

“I believe that,” she shot him a cold look. “Considering,” she gestured vaguely at him, “your whole deal. I mean, most strippers don’t have the inside information you want and very few of them fuck for money.”

He felt her words burn in his chest as he lit a cigarette to avoid her stare. He pondered if he should defend himself, but it seemed like she only wanted him to know that she knew what went down between him and Izzy. “Where is she?” he asked instead, trying to get to the point of this whole night.

“Safe. Her grandma got sick, so she came to visit her. She leaves tomorrow afternoon.”

“I would like to see her and make sure she’s alright,” he pressed. He didn’t come all the way down here and got his head almost blown off for words of reassurance.

She studied his face, lighting a cigarette of her own. Javier wasn’t sure of what she found out, but after a few moments, she turned her back to him and started packing her things into a bag. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll meet you outside.”

----------

The second she heard the door close behind him her hands tore away at the robe draped around her body. The material was light, but it felt like she was caught in a vice. Letting the flimsy material pool around her feet, she was finally able to take a deep breath. It still did not seem like enough. It did not matter though, she had no time to panic and wouldn’t have until Izzy and David were safely out of Colombia.

Taking one more deep breath she took off the silver bra and thongs and exchanged them for the more comfortable cotton pair she came to work in. She hastily stuffed all the costumes she used that night into her bag and then swept all the trinkets on the table on top of them with one broad sweep of her hand. She was already annoyed at the mess she’d have to go through later.

In her own clothes, she made her way through the back door outside the club. It took a little longer to get to the main street, but still better than being stopped by patrons asking for a private show. 

Agent Pena was leaning on the hood of, what she thought had to be, his car. He was just finishing another cigarette, his eyes already on her as she stepped from around the corner of the building and into the street.

“That was more than five minutes,” he commented when she was within the earshot. Pushing off the hood of the car, he walked to the driver’s side without giving her a second look.

“I was hoping you’d fuck off,” she muttered to herself before sliding into the passenger seat.

He started the car and looked at her impatiently, waiting for instructions. She reluctantly told him their destination, not exactly ecstatic that she was about to take him to her flat.

Silence fell over the car when they hit the streets he was familiar with, and she didn’t have to navigate him anymore. Her head rested on the window, and she watched him drive. He seemed tired. Bags under his eyes and even his hands on the wheel kept sliding down now and then. She smiled to herself when his nose scrunched up as if something tickled it. 

Pena turned his head as he stopped at an intersection and did a little double-take when he noticed her watching him. “What?” he asked seeming almost self-conscious. It made her laugh.

“Nothing,” she shrugged and kept her eyes unashamedly on him.

He looked at her again, holding her gaze for a few moments as if he was testing her, averting his eyes back to the road when she didn’t flinch. “I thought you wanted me to ‘fuck off’.”

“Oh, I do,” she agreed, completely serious. “I’m also kinda intrigued. I mean, Izzy risked everything for you. I’m just trying to figure out what it is about you that was worth it.”

He seemed to be caught off guard by her honesty. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, and he shifted in his seat. This was obviously not a very comfortable topic for him. “I think you are giving me more credit than it’s due. I just offered her a safe way from Colombia with her son.”

“Sure,” she nodded, “seems reasonable enough.” The sarcasm in her voice did not escape him, but she just did not want to talk about that anymore. Both of them knew Izzy liked him more than she should have. She didn’t risk only her life, but also the life of her son and her grandmother. It didn’t matter now anyway.

“Is Layla your real name?”

She let out a laugh because the question was simply ridiculous. Especially after that little exchange they just had. The corner of his lip quirked up just a little. He seemed happy she wanted to move on from the conversation as well. “You are the big DEA agent here. What do you think?”

“So, what is your real name?” he looked at her again. The streetlights reflected in his eyes, and she realized that they were not as dark as she previously thought. 

“Why? So you can go back to work tomorrow and try to look me up in one of your files?” she kept her tone light, teasing. He seemed more responsive to that, and it was nice to see him relax a little. Plus, she felt she owed him after holding a gun to his head.

“Of course not,” he shook his head, “I’m going back to the office right after I’m done with this.”

She laughed again, and he joined in with his reserved chuckle. “Well, I’m tempted to see how good you are and what you come up with only my address and a stage name.”

“So,” he turned his head to her and slowed down the car when she motioned to the apartment complex she lived in and parked right in front of it. “You think we will see each other again.” 

“I think you like a challenge, agent Pena,” she winked at him as she got out of the car.

She closed her eyes in the cool air, mentally banging her head against a wall. Why did she always have to flirt? Barely, but still. It was like a curse she couldn’t get rid of, and it always came up in the most inappropriate of places. Like with a fucking DEA agent who fucked one of her best friends.

Pena closed the car door and caught up with her on the steps into the building. She led him to the second-floor terrace when he tried his luck one last time. “So you won’t tell me your name?”

“No,” she answered simply as she unlocked the door to her flat. “Izzy!” she called out into the apartment, but instead of Izzy, little David came running from one of the rooms.

“Auntie, Nat! Auntie, Nat!” he almost tackled her to the ground trying to show her little cars his grandmother bought him. 

“No way! These are amazing!” she yelped, trying to match little David’s energy even if he just told Pena her real name. 

“Auntie, Nat,” Pena repeated after the boy with a winning smile.

Natalia just shook her head at him disapprovingly, “that’s cheating.”

“Nat! I made di--” Izzy’s words died in her throat as her eyes landed on the man next to her. “What are you doing here?”

“Izzy,” Pena walked slowly to her, “I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.” 

Izzy nodded at him, her eyes blown in shock. “Why are you with Nat?”

Hearing her name, Natalia took David into her arms. “Why don’t you two have a little chat and David,” she turned her attention to the youngest one, “can tell me all about these fancy cars.” The little bugger nodded furiously and twisted his way out of her arms.

“Yes! Of course! He couldn’t wait to show you,” Izzy agreed, kissing her son on the forehead as he ran past her and into Natalia’s room. Nat followed him in silence, only squeezing Izzy’s hand as she walked past her.

Her room was a mess with bags and clothes and toys all around the place. It looked like Izzy was in the middle of a packing up. Natalia made some room on her bed and sat down with David, trying to give him her full attention. It wasn’t as hard as she thought it would. David made damn sure she wouldn’t have anything on her mind but the story of the two racing cars. 

It didn’t take long before the doors to her room opened and Izzy came in. She was genuinely smiling, content. “He’s leaving, but wants to talk to you.”

Nat nodded and walked out of her room and to the living room, where Pena was standing by the door with his hands on his hips. He didn’t seem very happy with anything that just happened. “What’s going on?” She stopped closer to him than necessary, but she didn’t wanna risk David hearing anything.

“Do you know how to use that little gun of yours?” he ducked his head down, bringing him even closer. 

“I-I,” she stammered. The intensity in which his eyes bore into hers scared her. “Yes… Yes I know how to use it.”

“Good. Izzy doesn’t want me to go with you tomorrow.” He handed her a little white card with his name and put it into her hand. “If there’s anything weird. If you see anyone you don’t like or even if you have just a bad feeling,” he closed her hand around the piece of paper with his hand, not letting go just yet. “I want you to immediately call me, okay?”  Somehow he was even closer now, but instead of recoiling from him, she stood motionless. 

His eyes slid to her open lips that were unable to form the word to go with her nodding. 

“Good,” he said slowly, dragging his eyes up to hers again. She felt as if she was under a microscope as if he could see every emotion she was feeling at that moment plainly in her face. Could he tell how scared she was? 

“Good,” he repeated when his eyes landed on hers again. “Call me.” 

“I will,” she finally found her voice. It was quiet and shaky and downright pathetic. She should have stuck with nodding like an idiot. 

His head was tilting back and forth as if he could not bring himself to get out of her space even though he should. There was no reason for him to stay this close to her now, and she wasn’t sure if there was any need before, but neither of them was ready to make the first move.

 With a quick swipe of tongue over his lower lip, he finally stood up to his height, squeezing her balled up fist in his hand as he turned to the door. “Good night, Nat.”

[henrik-von-schneeplestein]

Schneeplebro Week Day 1

Prompt: Meet Cute

Word Count: 1627

Warnings: alcohol

Summary: presidential alert: the girls are FLIRTINGGGG

--

Chase wandered the room awkwardly, eyes desperately searching for someone he knew or at least someone who didn’t look busy. This was no small task, considering it was a huge room full of people and he’d only ever spoken to about two or three of them.

To be honest, the only person he’d really interacted with at all had been Layla, a member of the hospital’s accounting department who was in charge of fundraising efforts. They’d gotten in contact when he decided he wanted to do a big charity livestream on his channel benefitting a local children’s hospital, and she’d helped him set up the donation site. She’d also been the one who’d invited him to this event, a party thrown in honor of the top benefactors, after the stream had ended up being a huge success. He didn’t even really want to come, it wasn’t his type of thing and it wasn’t like he raised the money to  get applause, but Layla insisted that she had to thank him in person, and she’d been so nice the whole time they’d worked together, he hadn’t had the heart to say no. 

But as nice as it had been to shake her hand and chat with her a little, she’d eventually had to run off to thank other guests, too, and Chase found himself alone amongst groups of people. It seemed that a lot of the benefactors knew each other. Their clothes implied wealth, and wealth in Los Angeles was big wealth. They presumably attended these sorts of events all the time, a social circle that Chase and his tattoo-and-trickshot vibe simply didn’t fit into.

Some of the hospital staff was in attendance too, or so Chase had been told. They were hard to pick out; they were mostly doctors and dressed just as nicely as the guests of honor.

He couldn’t find Layla, but he did see Richard Spyer, the director of the whole hospital, who had video called in towards the end of the livestream to thank Chase and the viewers for the work they were doing. He’d struck Chase as a bit of a blowhard, or maybe just a little pompous, but nice enough, and more importantly, he was a familiar face, and he was only standing with one other person, a tall man with broad shoulders and a handsome face.

As he got closer, he heard the stranger speaking with a German accent. From what he overheard, they were talking about a project that involved changing the hospital computer system; it sounded like they knew each other. Chase hoped he wasn’t interrupting by walking up, but before he could apologize for the intrusion, Dr. Spyer spotted him and stopped in the middle of the sentence to yell, “Chase! It’s good to see you, so glad you could make it!” and shake his hand so enthusiastically that Chase’s shoulder went up and down along with their hands.

“It’s great to see you, too. I just wanted to thank you for having me tonight. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Not at all, not at all, let me introduce you two! This is Dr. Schneeplestein. He’s one of our best surgeons.”

“Henrik,” the stranger corrected, waving off the compliment.

“And this is Chase Brody. He works in social media; the fundraiser he ran brought in a huge percentage of our donations this quarter.”

Usually it made Chase a little uncomfortable when someone used vague euphemisms for his job like that; it just reinforced that he was unwelcome and out of place. But he was almost glad that he wasn’t being introduced as a Youtuber to someone as professional (and as gorgeous) as Dr. Schneeplestein. But it seemed like he might have known anyways. He raised his eyebrows as he gave Chase’s hand a firm shake. “I knew I recognized your voice,” he said. “I have an eleven-year-old at home; trust me, I hear your videos all day.”

Chase didn’t know if he should be embarrassed, but Dr. Schneeplestein’s tone was very friendly. More than anything, Chase was surprised that he had an eleven year old. He was definitely older than Chase, probably by somewhere between five and ten years, judging by the gray in his hair, but he still looked relatively young. He also, Chase couldn’t help but notice, wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

Dr. Spyer excused himself to go greet other guests, and Chase was momentarily panicked about being left alone to make conversation, but thankfully, the doctor didn’t seem to mind. “Thank you, sincerely, for bringing in all those donations. I know Richard can be… well, he’s Richard, but I promise, the money is all well spent.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’ve always really loved kids and I just want to help in any way I can. I’m glad that my channel’s popular enough to make a real difference, even if my videos are a little dumb.”

“I wouldn’t call them dumb; you have no idea how cool my son thinks you are. I hope it isn’t rude to ask if you’d sign something for him?”

“Not at all; I’d be happy to!”

“You are too kind. Let me buy you a drink,” he said, nodding to the bar.

“Oh, no, you really don’t have to -”

“I insist. We can steal a napkin while we’re over there.” He led the way across the room. “What do you drink?”

Chase didn’t want to ask for anything too expensive so he played it safe. “Just a beer.” He realized he should be more specific, but before he could correct himself, Henrik turned to the bartender and ordered for both of them. 

“So you’re from Germany, right? Does that mean you know good beer?” 

He laughed but kept his voice low when he answered so as not to be overheard. “Yes, but you won’t get it here. They never have real beer at places like these.”

“It’s probably hard to find at all around here. Nothing’s real in L.A.”

“Sometimes it is. If you know where to look.” And right now, he was looking right into Chase’s eyes. Chase didn’t know what to say to that, so the moment lingered until the bartender brought their drinks over. Henrik asked to borrow a pen before she walked away, and handed it to Chase along with a napkin.

“What’s your son’s name?”

“Ben.”

“That’s cute,” he said as he started writing. He didn’t have a ton of space to work with, so he just wrote ‘Ben - thanks for being a part of the channel! Love, Chase’ and doodled the channel symbol next to his name. “Is this enough?” he asked, showing Henrik.

“That’s perfect. He’ll love it.” He slipped it into an inner pocket of his jacket. “Thank you again.”

They sat at the bar a while longer, talking and sipping their beers. Chase asked if it was hard to work in pediatric surgery as a father, and Henrik said it was but that was why he did it. He found out Henrik had a younger son too, and that he’d gone through a divorce about a year and a half ago. Chase told Henrik that he’d actually gone to school to work with kids too, as a teacher, but that the channel he’d started as a hobby had started taking off around the time that he’d graduated and needed a job, and it was nice to be self-employed and set your own hours. Henrik offered to get him another drink, but Chase had driven himself there and didn’t want to deal with Ubering home and then back in the morning for his car.

Eventually, the night was drawing to a close, and Richard, Layla, and a few more of the bigwigs got up on the little platform on one side of the room, where the DJ often set up when this room was rented under less formal circumstances. They gave pretty much the same speech they’d given at the beginning of the party, thanking everyone, talking about how important this all was, and so on. Henrik alternated between watching them and making fun of Richard’s schmoozing, mimicking his big fake grin and always-moving hands to make Chase laugh. Chase, meanwhile, waited for Henrik to turn back towards the stage, and then grabbed the other napkin that had come with their drinks and scrawled something on it.

When they finally wished everyone a goodnight and got offstage, people rushed around getting ready to leave. More than a few people came over to the bar to tip the bartender or get one last drink if they weren’t driving, so Chase and Henrik moved to avoid the crowd.

As they walked towards the door, Chase summoned his courage.

“If you’re ever interested, I’d love to meet your son sometime.” He handed Henrik the other napkin, with his phone number written on it. “You can call me whenever. Text. Doesn’t matter. I’m always on my phone.”

“That would be amazing. And hey, maybe I can show you where to find real beer in this city.”

Chase felt his cheeks flush a little. “I’d like that.”

“Me too. It was great to meet you, Chase. Have a good night - safe drive home, yeah?”

“Yeah. You too.” Henrik smiled, and touched Chase’s shoulder for the briefest moment before he walked away. 

Chase watched him cross the parking lot, feeling a little dazed, like he couldn’t remember why he’d actually come here tonight. He jumped a mile when Layla came up to thank him one last time; he’d almost forgotten that the people around him were real. 

He got into his own car and the second he turned it on and the radio came to life, the most beautiful love song started playing.

[laylacooke]

Sly Dog || Zinnia & Layla ft. Indy

timing: Thursday evening; 9/24 parties: @zinniarhee & @laylacooke summary: Layla learns a lesson in being first time dog owner, after Zinnia finds Indy.

Indy was safe! Thank the moon, Indy was safe. Layla could breathe a sigh of relief. If anything had happened to him, she didn’t know what she would have done. The Lyft she had called for couldn’t get her there fast enough. And when they were in the parking lot, she nearly jumped out of the car, before it had stopped, “I’ll be back out shortly.”

With a hurried pace, she headed into the building. It looked as though the vet’s office had just closed, “Hello?” Scanning the empty room, Layla found her way to the counter and waited anxiously. Was Indy okay? Had something happened to him? As she stood quietly, trying to be patient, she could feel her leg shaking in anticipation. She had just wanted to see the small dog and make sure he was, indeed, safe.

It wasn’t uncommon for Zinnia to find the occasional stray pet. Whether or not she let those who lost their animals waltz in and take them out was different, though. The dog that she had found looked to be as happy as could be, just a bit lost. She wouldn’t know until she saw the owner, however. The clinic was now closed, for which was grateful-- the last thing she needed was for others to see the way in which she interrogated the owner of the pup. 

The sound of the bell rang throughout the office, an indication that the woman had arrived. Zinnia carried the dog in her arms out into the lobby. The girl looked anxious, as she should have been. Zinnia knelt to let the dog down, and immediately, he scampered her way. Loud yips and yaps left him as he looked at her excitedly and Zinnia felt herself ease. “He’s cute,” she said as she watched him. “I gave him a bath, too. He was a bit dirty.” Zinnia leaned against the desk as she rounded the corner.

Her wolf hearing had allowed her the opportunity to hear someone coming, but it didn’t ease her nerves. However, when she laid eyes on Indy, a wave of relief washed over her. He was safe, and he looked as happy as he could be. It was when the small tan and white pup came racing towards her, is when Layla had felt the most at ease. They had been through a lot together. Not having him in her life had worried her to death, and if there had been the chance that she had lost him too, during everything else, she never would have forgiven herself.

“Indy!” Kneeling, she watched as he ran and jumped into her arms. Falling back on her butt, she laughed as he licked away her tears and worries, “You smell so good, Buddy!” Layla let her eyes move to the woman standing against the desk, while Indy continued to give her kisses, “Thank you so so so much! What do I owe you for the bath and for keeping her safe?” She hoped it wouldn’t be too much, but she’d be sure to pay back every bit of it, whatever it was.

Zinnia preferred it this way. She liked it when the animal was happy to see its owner. This was much better than watching them cower in fear behind her, helpless. Zinnia turned to look over the receptionist’s desk. Her calendar was free for now. She glanced back over to the redhead as she showered Indy with affection. “You don’t need to worry about payment,” Zinnia smiled at her. “How did he get out, if I might ask?” Zinnia still had to be cautious. People were generally good liars. 

Zinnia knew that she couldn’t let the woman leave with her dog, not without asking a few questions. “I didn’t see him in my records, when were his last shots?” She asked as she crossed the distance between them, leaning down to give Indy a good scratch behind his ear. “We just like to take precautions, and I couldn’t be sure what he had run into before he ended up here.”

She understood being questioned. Layla knew Zinnia was just doing her job, and while it felt like she was on trial, she would answer anything the woman needed to know, “Wow, um. Thank you so much. And, as ridiculous as this sounds, he got out when it was raining dog toys. I opened the door and he squeezed past me. I ran out looking for him, but I can tell you, it’s hard to get anything done when you’re getting pelted in the head by squeaky toys every 5 seconds.” She looked down to the dog, “Don’t worry, Indy. I saved some for you.” Whether that was a bad idea or not would come out later.

Layla watched as the woman leaned down and gave him a few scratches, but something felt off...no, smelled off. She had noticed it when she walked in but didn’t think anything of it. However, now with Zinnia in her face, she could tell this woman wasn’t human. “Uh, they gave him all his puppy shots at animal control a few months ago. Does he need more? Kaden Langley would know, and I have his paperwork at home.” 

The dog toys. Of course, a dog would take advantage of such a situation. “That’s fair,” Zinnia said after a moment. She couldn’t say that she would be capable of doing much with such a distraction, either. Especially if she were concerned with her missing dog. It’d be hard to ignore everything going on in the background. What mattered here, however, was that the dog had been found, and that he was safe. She could see the relief on the woman’s face, and that made Zinnia feel slightly better about the situation at hand. 

“Animal control?” Zinnia asked curiously. She straightened up and looked at Layla, “Have you taken him to the vet?” She knew there was another office in town, and she had done her research. So far, they seemed… capable. Animal control could only do so much, and it was important to provide thorough care for a pet once it was adopted. “If not,” Zinnia crossed to the receptionist desk and grabbed a pamphlet, “I have openings for new patients.” If she had the time, she’d take on all the animals in White Crest. Just to be sure. 

“Yeah, that’s where I adopted him from. But no, I don’t guess I have. This is my first time owning a dog.” Layla was embarrassed, so much so that she could feel her cheeks turning red. She didn’t want Zinnia or Kaden or anyone to have a reason to take him away from her. He was everything to her. Her family, and the only one that was at her side no matter what. She looked up to see the woman walking to the receptionist desk, “I’d like one. I want one. What days do you have available?” She looked down to Indy and back to Zinnia. If she was going to have Indy in her life, she was going to make sure he was well taken care of. He was her responsibility after all.

“A first-time owner?” It made sense, then. Why Indy wouldn’t listen to Layla to come back. Still, Zinnia wanted to offer her the intel of puppy training classes. “For right now, Wednesdays. That doesn’t mean there aren’t cancellations, or that I won’t be able to take you on another day if you can’t make your appointment, but I need at least 48 hours’ notice on all cancellations.” She handed over the pamphlet, as well as one on puppy training classes that her clinic held on the first and third Saturday of every month. “You can take a look at this, too. It might be good for you since you’re a new owner.” Zinnia offered the young woman a smile before she glanced back down to the dog. “Behave, okay?” 

“Yeah, there've been a lot of firsts for me within the last year.” Layla’s life had seriously taken a crazy turn after she had received the bite. It had forced her to grow up in so many ways in such a short amount of time. Now, over a year later, here she stood with her very first puppy in tow making a responsible decision, among other things, on caring for that animal. Taking the pamphlet, she looked it over, before resuming with setting up an appointment. It wasn’t like her schedule was packed full of stuff. It was basically work and home, aside from worrying about her friends. But having these responsibilities were making her better as a person, and she knew her grandmother would have been so proud to see the woman she was becoming, “Guess I’ll see you on Wednesday.” Layla offered Zinnia a smile in return, before finishing up and heading home with some new goals in mind.

[meflemming]

Wake Me Up (Can’t Wake Up) || Layla & Miriam

TIMING: Early August, Durin Midsummer Nightmare PARTIES: @laylacooke & @meflemming SUMMARY: Miriam thinks she’s lived through this before. Layla doesn’t really know what she’s doing here. CONTENT: Verbal abuse (from Miriam’s husband), a bit of gore 

Many, many years ago, Miriam was in this exact same spot. She stood in the foyer of her home, purse in hand. A large, formal picture of her and Theo hung high on the wall, both of them looking tall and regal and absolutely perfect together. They looked like a matched set. There were other pictures about, less formal, more real. The happiness on Miriam’s face, the way she looked at him, that was real for her. It hadn’t been real for him. She could hear Theo in the other room, several of his friends around her. They were laughing, the sound of glasses clinking and soft music filling the air. She smiled. She could hear him say her name, followed by another round of laughter. She started down the hall, which felt long, impossibly long.

“Gentlemen, a toast to my wife,” Theo said, and Miriam felt her heart soar. “May her pockets always be deep, and she always be a gullible bitch.” Just as it reached new heights, her heart dropped, deep into her chest, she backed away from the door, but it only seemed to grow closer, Theo’s voice louder. “Without her money, the coven would be lost. It almost makes putting up with her pompous, spoiled ass.” Miriam felt her anger, her fury, grow, and she tried to scream, but nothing came out of her mouth. She was inconsequential. She didn’t make a sound.

Layla stood in a kitchen, one that didn’t appear to have any modern technology of the 21st Century. Her surroundings, though, seemed to be elegant for their time. Voices from another room filled the silence of the current space she was occupying, until someone, an older woman, spoke up, “Go on. Go see if Mr. Wildes or his friends need a refill on their drinks.” With a previously unnoticed whiskey bottle in hand, the teenager was shoved through the door leading into a room full of men dressed in business attire. What the fuck is this? Mad Men. Hesitantly, Layla moved forward and quietly offered up the bottle. However, what she didn’t expect was to be slapped on the ass a few times making her rounds.

Sneering, the redhead stifled a growl, knowing it wasn’t the right place or right time, which had already seemed to feel wrong. Why wasn’t she defending herself? And the words they continued to speak about his wife, only seemed to anger her even more. But instead of acting, Layla found herself doing as they asked, before going back through a different doorway in order to retrieve what the man of the house had requested; a box of very expensive cigars.

As she passed through the doorway, she caught a glimpse of Miriam standing just in the shadows, leaving her heart pounding deeply in her chest, “Mrs. Wildes, you startled me! Can I get you anything?” The words Miriam’s husband had spoken ran rampant through her mind as she looked nervously towards the woman who had been eavesdropping in on the conversation.

Miriam had barely even noticed the red headed girl, she was so caught up on what was happening with Theo. She was just as startled as the girl was, and her hand reached up to her chest. It… felt wrong. Everything about this situation felt wrong. It was like she’d lived it before, but not like this. “It’s Flemming, actually,” She said distractedly. She’d refused to change her name; though she loved the Wildes, loved the coven, she was a Flemming through and through, and she had a business to help run. It wasn’t Flemming and Wildes’ Leather. It was Flemming’s Leather.

About that time, Theo noticed Miriam. She felt an overwhelming sense that she knew how this was supposed to happen: he would try to explain himself, she would run out, and something terrible would happen. Instead, Theo gave her a grin. “Gentlemen, the woman of the hour has arrived! Darling, come in!” He beckoned her forward, and forward she went, drawn to him even when her heart was breaking. “I want to propose a toast to my wife, Miriam Flemming.” He raised a glass to her. “Too spoiled to change her name, too stupid to understand that I really didn’t give a shit as long as I got her money. And, my god, all the good she’s done for our coven with that money! Boys, I think every man here should have a Flemming woman. Too bad I snagged the only one.” What could she say to this? What could she do? Miriam wanted to run, to scream, but her feet wouldn’t move, and her tongue felt like it was made of lead.

Layla remained quiet and simply nodded. She was just about to head on her way to get the requested cigars, when she noticed Miriam walk into the room. Instead of resuming forward, she ducked into the shadows where Mrs. Flemming had previously been standing to listen. But what she heard wasn’t ideal, and it angered her. She could feel the shift of her eyes. A warning sign that her inner werewolf was angry, too. But it wasn’t her place. Come on, Mrs. Flemming. Don’t take that from those assholes. She wanted to go back in there and be the woman’s support, but she didn’t have the cigars yet, and she didn’t exactly want to leave her spot. Staying quiet, she continued to peer out from the darkness apprehensive of what would happen next.

As the men laughed, Miriam felt her rage build until finally she snapped. Tears in her eyes, she looked at Theo and said, so quietly it could barely be heard, “I hate you.” Theo, for his part, gave her a toast and replied, “No, dear, I don’t think you do.” Miriam made eye contact with the red-headed girl from before. Many years ago, a weaker woman turned on her heels and ran. She died that night, but, in her place, there was a new woman, a stronger one, and that was the one that stood before Theo Wildes. With a skinning knife that she didn’t remember grabbing in her hands, Miriam lunged at Theo. She pressed the knife against his jaw and snarled, “I’m going to skin you like the animal you are.”

However, as she pressed the knife down, Theo’s smile turned wicked, and the skin from his face began to peel away. At the same time, the skin on Miriam’s hand began to peel away, as well, causing her to cry out. “Don’t cry, Mim,” Theo said, his voice rattly and harsh. “I think we both know who the real animal is here.”

The teenager was engrossed in all that was happening and couldn’t look away, but it was the eye contact made with Miriam that sent chills down Layla’s spine. Not able to turn away, she watched as the events began to unfold. She was stuck in one spot, and while she wanted to go in and help, she couldn’t. Her feet refused to move. Her body refused to move. It took watching the skin beginning to peel away from both the man and woman’s bodies that made her scream out in terror. Whatever was going to happen, she was being forced to watch, as her free wheel had left the moment, she decided to linger in the shadows.

Miriam screamed and dropped the knife, attempting to scramble away from her husband. She cradled her hand to her chest as it slowly healed. “Theo. Theo, please,” she begged as she backed away from him. Her head whipped to the girl screaming in the corner, before looking back at Theo and his friends, only to see that he was the only person left in front of her. The house started to decay around them, and it occurred to her that none of this was real. The red headed girl didn’t work with her at all. She’d seen her before, though she couldn’t recall. Miriam began to back away from the decaying corpse that was her husband, towards the girl. “We have to leave. We have to leave. We have to leave.” They needed to get out of whatever this was, even if the ending was worse. “Who are you?” she asked the girl. “You don’t work here.”

Layla could see the decaying of the man slowly taking place right in front of her eyes. With everything fading away, except the slow rot of the man’s corpse, she couldn’t peel her eyes off of him. It took the woman addressing her and figuring out that she didn’t belong to get her back to this hellish reality she was in, “I-I don’t know why I’m here.” She was finally able to move, but as she did, she realized she was starting to back away from the woman that was moving towards her. Was she going to harm her? Kill her like she did her own husband? He did kind of deserve to be told off, but not stabbed to death, “Don’t hurt me. I don't know how I got here? I…” She continued to move away from the woman in fear and confusion, her back trying to touch a wall that was just there a second ago, but had somehow vanished in all the chaos.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Miriam snarled, but she realized that in saying that, it sounded like she was going to hurt the poor girl. “I’m not going to hurt you, darling.” She kept her tone softer this time and looked around the house as it crumbled around them. “But we need to get out of here, and soon, because, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, darling, the whole place is falling down around us.” She cradled her hand close to her chest, knowing, especially after the last time that she dreamed, that it was going to hurt her when she woke up. Woke up. Woke up. “This isn’t real. What the hell?” She looked back at the girl. “What are you doing to me?”

Layla could see the walls crumbling. One by one they began coming down around them. Nothing felt safe. They needed to leave. To escape. To… “What? What do you mean it’s not real?” Why did this feel so familiar? Why did Miriam look so familiar? She searched her brain for any answers to this mystery, and then she recognized her. She was the woman that her parents had shot. The woman who had lunged for her dad. It was all beginning to make sense, “Me!? What are you doing? Everytime I see you, you’re attacking somebody…” Her eyes grew wide at the realization, and as she continued to move backwards, she felt her foot slip off of what seemed like a cliff. Startled, she looked back to the darkness that lingered below, before setting her wide, scared eyes on her dream companion.

“Does it feel real to you, little girl?” Miriam asked. Even if the pain felt real, the rest of it? Well, it’d been a long time since she’d dreamed, but she knew that reality didn’t feel like this. “Yes, you, darling. Everytime I see you, I end up injured.” She distinctly remembered a shotgun wound to the stomach that she’d been stuck in bed agonizing over for days. And now there was her damn hand to contend with. She moved forward as the girl moved back, her heels no longer making a clacking sound as the ground underneath their feet seemed to shift and change. Miriam wanted answers, and she wanted them quickly. Somehow, this girl was explicitly tied to what she needed to know. Come hell or high water, she wanted to figure it out. But… not at the expense of the girl’s life. As soon as she saw the girl begin to slip into nothingness, Miriam’s uninjured hand shot out and wrapped around the girl’s wrist, pulling her away from the edge. “We’ll be having none of that, I don’t think.”

Whoever this woman was, she had caught Layla in the nick of time. Once she was safe and away from the edge, she pulled her arm away, rubbing her wrist from the tight grip that had been around it. Her words dug daggers into the redhead as things started to come to light. The incident at her parents house, and now this. It couldn’t be real. But how were they in the same dreams together? That was impossible! Or so Layla had originally thought, “I didn’t do these things to you! I warned you to stay hidden, but you didn’t listen. And this? This is your dream, so I should be asking who are you, because I sure as hell didn’t sign up to see you murder some man!” She wanted badly to storm off, but where would she go? Everything was crumbling and soon there would be nothing, “And shouldn’t we be trying to escape? Because last I checked, everything in here is disappearing, and soon, we’ll be next!”

“I’m not saying you did, but there’s a certain correlation between you being around and me, well, dreaming.” Miriam knew she wasn’t supposed to dream. She wasn’t. And, yet, here they were. “And I was trying to help you! Who would I be if I let--” She stopped herself, her lips twitching a bit into a snarl before she stopped herself and sighed. “I don’t know if you noticed, darling, but he was trying to kill me just as much as I was trying to kill him.” It hadn’t gone like this, the first time. She’d run away, died. He hadn’t done this to her, she thought as she looked down at her mangled hand. This was a nightmare. Just an awful, awful nightmare. “I think you’re right. We need to leave. Wake up. I don’t.” She laughed a bit, finally starting to feel a few nerves. God, it had been so long since she’d felt nervous. “Would you believe me if I told you it’d been quite some time since I fell asleep. How the hell do you wake up?”

Okay, Miriam had a point. They did seem to end up together constantly as of late, but she wasn’t a dreamweaver. Hell, she could barely keep her own life in check, let alone be responsible for someone else’s! But she didn’t like the way she was being snarled at, and she was just about to return the favor, when Layla noticed the woman restrained herself, “You know what? Not my dream. Not my problem. I’ve got enough issues, like trying to get out of this nightmare. And I mean it’s not like we’re going to see each other ever again. I don’t even know you!” She hadn’t recalled that the person she had been talking to online was the same person in her dreams. “What are you? Like Edward Cullen or something? And I don’t know? My body just tells me it’s time to wake up, when something startles me in the real world, or I’ve had enough sleep! Where’s that dreaded alarm when you need it?!” She looked around seeing their situation was getting dire.

It took an extreme effort for Miriam not to pop off at this child. Let no one ever try to tell her she has no patience. She knew for a fact she had plenty. “Certainly, darling. Let’s just figure out how the hell we get out of here, shall we?” She began looking around them, trying to find an exit. That’s what worked, right? They just found an exit and walked out? It had been so long since she’d dreamed properly. She didn’t know. “Who is Edward Cullen?” She asked, not properly paying attention to the girl anymore as she looked around. However, her head snapped back to the girl quickly at her last words. “I don’t think I can wake up, but you can.” She walked up to the girl, her injured hand cradled against her chest. “I sincerely do apologize for this. And, if it doesn’t work, I’m even more sorry.” Then, she slapped the girl in front of her, hoping the shock of it would cause her to wake up.

How had they ended up in the situation they had, and what had drawn them together in the first place? These questions had run through Layla’s mind as she continued to search for a way out. A way that would save them both from whatever the hell was happening. “Edward Cullen is...I’ll explain later.” Fake vampires that sparkled seemed to be the least of their worries, and when all hope was starting to fade, she noticed Miriam now standing near her. “I don’t understand. Why can’t you wake-” Before she could finish, she felt a hard hand connect with her face, and in doing so, it sent a wave of pain through her cheek. Eyes popping open to reveal nothing, but darkness, Layla found herself gasping for air as she looked around the room. Her room. Not the dream world she was in. Not a place that was threatening her life, but her own room with Ariana sleeping peacefully in the bed next to her. But she had wondered about Miriam. Surely, if Layla had woken up, so had the other woman right?

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 16: Falling Like The Stars

(from the Flatmate Trilogy: Two Hearts, One Home)

…in which their best friends get married.

Word count: 6k

Chapter 15: 🎃 HALLOWEEN SPECIAL 🎃 Fright-day Night - Another Halloween treasure hunt.

Wattpad link

A/N:

- We're so close to the ending already! Grab some tissue and get ready to say goodbye to these beloved characters. The final chapter is called 'FLATMATE' and it comes out on November 6 😿

- After Flatmate, I will take some time off and return in December with a new series called The Conman And The Maid. Feel free to talk to me about it or ask me questions. 

Listen as you read:

- when Layla walks down the aisle

- when Harry and Y/N slow dance

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"Wanna do something bad?"

"Right here?"

Harry got a glare and a pillow thrown at him for that reply. "No! I'm going to meet Layla's parents this morning," Y/N said as she joined her husband on the couch. "The wedding is tonight. I have to make sure they'll be there."

"But wouldn't Layla be mad if she found out we were going behind her back?" His face contorted as he pondered.

"Yeah." She gave a half shrug, pursing her lips. "Layla is too proud to admit that she wants them to be there. I know she constantly says she hates them but I also know she doesn't really hate them, otherwise it wouldn't bother her so much that they might not come to her wedding."

Harry tossed his head back and heaved a sigh. "Well, should we at least tell Niall?"

"I already did." Y/N grinned. "He gave me their addresses."

"Wait, so we're just...going straight to their houses?"

"Yes?" She raised an eyebrow as her husband did the same. "What? You thought I was going to call them and formally invite them out for lunch?"

"Uh...yes?"

"Well, no. They would make excuses to say no like they did when their own daughter invited them to her wedding. We're going straight to their houses."

"I haven't even said I'd do it."

"You're doing it." She got to her feet and pulled him up by the arm. "We're in this together. For better or worse, remember?"

"This isn't what I meant when I said that!" Harry whined, but his wife had already thrown on her jacket and grabbed his car key.

"Either you go with me or you can't talk to Ria tonight."

"You're a monster," he gasped, making her giggle.

"That's just marriage, baby."

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Layla's mother lived only an hour away from her so Y/N couldn't understand why she'd never come to visit her daughter. Y/N was not yet a mother herself, but she knew when Asteria grew up and finally went away to college, she wouldn't mind the distance to come visit her once in a while. But maybe not all mothers were the same. And sadly, not all mothers loved their children, either.

Y/N had never seen a photo of Layla's mum, and all the basic information she'd got was from her best friend's depressing stories about her problematic family. The woman's name was Maureen. She used to be an alcoholic, and now she was living alone and only occasionally drunk, or so Y/N hoped. The lady was sober when she answered the door, but it was easy to spot the empty bottles and packs of beer under the small eating table.

"Who the hell are you?" Maureen asked in an obnoxious tone. She had fair skin, dark brown hair, and light eyes similar to Layla's. She could be an older version of Layla if it was in an alternate universe where Layla didn't care about clothes or makeup or a healthy lifestyle.

"I'm Y/N and this is my husband, Harry. We're both friends of your daughter's," Y/N said cheerfully as she put on a smile, whereas Harry gave the woman the same frown she was giving them.

"My daughter?"

"Yes, ma'am." Y/N nodded. "Your daughter is getting married today and—"

"Why aren't you at the wedding?" Maureen cut her off, looking doubtful as she gripped the handle. Y/N was just waiting for her to slam the door in their faces, but gladly, she didn't.

"The wedding is tonight, actually. Um...I just came to make sure you were coming because—"

"Did she ask you to?" Once again, she didn't let Y/N finish. She seemed indifferent, so it was hard to tell how she really felt about this, or if she felt anything at all. She crossed her arms and leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, ready to have a conversation right there. Y/N didn't think it was rude, because why would she invite two complete strangers into her home?

"Did my daughter ask you to come here?" Maureen repeated the question when she didn't get an answer.

"No, ma'am," Y/N said.

Shaking her head, the older woman laughed. "Right, and I suppose you came all the way here because you felt bad for me?"

"No, I—"

"You seem like the type of person who loves sticking her nose in other people's business."

"Hey!" Harry stepped forward, a frown overtook his face. "Do not talk to my wife like that."

Y/N tugged at his arm as she told him to calm down, yet Maureen seemed very chill and indifferent to his attitude. Ignoring him, she went on with a sly smile, "I'm not going to the wedding. It's not like she wants me there."

"She does."

"Well, did she tell you that?"

"No, but—" Y/N bit her lip, but before she could continue, Maureen waved her off.

"My ex-husband would be there and the last thing I want to see is that son of a bitch's face."

"That's the problem," Harry finally spoke as he was too upset to remain silent. "Neither of you would come because you're both afraid of running into each other, but it shouldn't be about you. It's your daughter's big day and you should be there for her."

"The last time we met, she called me an embarrassment. I'm doing her a favor by not coming to her wedding."

"I know Layla," Y/N said, clenching her fists. "She doesn't express her feelings the way people expect her to. She says no when the answer is yes, and maybe when the answer is no. She's very unpredictable, but it's not so hard to read her mind once you've known her well enough."

Maureen scoffed as she looked down and pinched her forehead. "I don't need you strangers to lecture me on Layla. I'm her mother."

"Then start acting like one."

From Maureen's and Harry's reaction, Y/N knew neither of the two had expected someone with her personality to say something like that. But she didn't care. Mumbling, "have a nice day", she took Harry's hand and pulled him back to the lift.

Once the door had shut and the couple had left, Maureen was still standing at her front door.

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Layla's father lived in a mansion that looked like a cutout from Architects Today magazine. It was one of those dream houses in which Y/N had imagined her, Harry and their two children living a few years from then, when they could afford that expensive life. They weren't poor now, but this place made them feel like they were.

Unlike Layla's mother, her father — Daniel Scott, or Dan, as he had asked them to call him, had invited the couple into his living room for tea as soon as he recognized Harry. Layla had taken Harry with her to lunch with her dad and his other family once, because Niall had been busy that day. However, Harry had hardly interacted with the man to say that he personally knew him.

"Believe me or not, Layla has never invited a friend over. Well, there was Niall, but they're getting married so it doesn't really count." Daniel laughed, shaking his head.

Y/N was slightly confused because this man wasn't at all how she'd imagined he would be. He was handsome for his age and he was also polite and calm, yet the image Layla had constructed in her head was this angry and selfish man who didn't give two shits about his family. But if there was one thing Y/N had learned from a thousand mistakes in the past, it would be not to draw a conclusion about someone you had just met five minutes ago.

"About the wedding," Y/N began as she put her teacup down on the coffee table, placing her hands back on her knees. "It's tonight, and we hope you can come to congratulate her."

"Layla has already told me about the wedding," said Dan. "Unfortunately, I cannot make it. I'm a very busy man and—"

"Sir, I know what it's like to be drowning in work and deadlines and thinking you don't have enough time for anything else," Harry cut him off. "But it all comes down to priorities. Don't you think it's worth it to put everything aside and celebrate this important day with your daughter? It's just one night."

As Dan pressed his lips into a smile and rubbed his palms together, Harry was hoping that the man would reconsider and change his mind. However, Dan's ringtone tore down the silence and he excused himself to go answer the phone.

"Do you think he'll say yes?" Y/N asked once he'd left the room.

"Hope so." Her husband lifted his shoulders in a half shrug. "I mean, he seems much easier to talk to than his ex-wife so—"

"Sorry, kids. I gotta go now. Duty calls," Dan told them as he walked in with the same big smile which had begun to freak Y/N out.

"But Layla's wedding—"

"I can just come to her next one," Dan said, causing both Harry and Y/N to drop their jaws, but their reactions seemed to mean nothing to him as he added, "I know my daughter, okay?"

No, you don't, Y/N thought to herself and rubbed Harry's shoulder as she spotted him giving Dan a black look.

"My butler will show you the way out. It's nice talking to the two of you."

Dan turned away as the butler showed up and asked them to come with him. Harry quickly followed the tiny man, but Y/N stayed when a young girl, who she assumed was about sixteen or seventeen, rushed down the stairs.

"Daddy, daddy!" she called Dan. "Mum is coming back from Milan tonight. Do you think we can go shopping together? I desperately need new clothes for school."

Dan pulled his daughter into a tight hug as he pressed his lips to her forehead and said, "of course, sweetheart. Anything for my little princess."

"Y/N!" Harry's voice got his wife's attention. When she looked back at him, she could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew what she was thinking of. She walked up to him and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they followed the butler out of there. "It's okay," Harry whispered. "Layla would be better off without them."

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"So this is what it feels like to be invited to the royal wedding."

Y/N gave her husband a nudge and waved hello to another wedding guest she recognized. Layla spent too much time with her and Harry that sometimes she forgot how popular her best friend was. After all, she was Layla Scott. She was born to receive attention, just not always the kind she would value. So the more she got, the more she craved. Y/N supposed some guests here today hadn't come because they cared about Layla, they'd come because it was her wedding. It was every high school in movies. People voted the most popular girl for Prom Queen, not because they liked her, but because she was cool. That was how Layla had remained 'the popular girl' ever since she could walk, but it wasn't until she got to college that she learned what it was like to have real friends.

It was thirty minutes before the ceremony and Y/N was asked to go check on Layla. Nobody knew what had happened, but the bride had locked herself in her dressing room and everyone that was part of the wedding planning was freaking out.

"Layla?" Y/N knocked on the door as the other bridesmaids gathered around her. "Layla, is everything okay? It's Y/N."

"Come in. Just you."

With a turning stomach, Y/N asked one girl to go outside just in case something happened and they needed someone to reassure the guests. Then, she turned the doorknob and entered the room.

Layla was sitting in her wedding dress with her phone in her hands. Though it wasn't from personal experience, Y/N had heard about some brides having a mental breakdown right before their wedding. It was understandable. The thought of starting a new life with a new identity could be overwhelming. So when Layla looked up at Y/N with her glassy eyes, Y/N assumed her best friend was going through the same thing.

"My father posted a photo of him at dinner with his other family," Layla said, proving her wrong. "He's with them on my wedding day."

Not knowing how to respond, Y/N chose silence as she stood against the door with her hands behind her back, and started second-guessing what her best friend might say next.

"That asshole..." Layla scoffed as she shook her head. "I hate him. I fucking hate him! I-I don't know why I even expected that he would show up tonight. I knew he wouldn't. So why am I still disappointed? Like...God, I...Do you know that he didn't come to my high school graduation because he was in Bali with that whore that's now my stepmother?"

Y/N silently shook her head.

Layla's parents hadn't come to her university graduation either. Niall had told Y/N and Harry not to ask Layla why, because it would only upset her. But now Y/N knew even when nobody brought up her family issues, it would upset her anyway. Her terrible parents would always matter to her despite how many times and how much she'd said she hated them.

"And my mum is always drunk." Layla released a harsh sigh. "It'd be a miracle if she could get her ass off the couch let alone attend my graduation or wedding."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Y/N said as she stepped forward and pulled a chair to sit down in front of the bride, who lifted her face as Y/N squeezed her hands. "This is your big day. So if your parents would rather be anywhere else but here, then it's their loss. You don't need them. I mean—Your entire family is already here. You have Harry, Lou, Liam, and Trix, and you have me. And Niall is probably freaking out right now because he cannot wait to start this new life with you."

Layla scoffed and rolled her eyes. "And Harry's probably trying to help but he's only making it worse. Those idiots."

"True." Y/N nodded as they both giggled. "And...this will be Asteria's first wedding experience. Wanna feel her?"

Layla nodded and let Y/N guide her hand to her baby bump. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed, her eyes lit up. "She's moving!"

"Yup, I think she's very excited." Y/N beamed. "Who needs your shitty parents when you have a big family who will support you no matter what, right?"

This time, when Layla teared up, Y/N knew she was happy. She squeezed Y/N into a hug before pulling away and her expression hardened.

"Let's do this," she said. "Let's go out there and lower everyone's self-esteem by being the hottest people in the room."

"And she's back!" Y/N chuckled as she helped Layla get up and straighten her dress. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Be right there!" Layla shouted to the person, who replied immediately.

"Layla, it's me. Your mother."

The bride crossed her arms and laughed slightly, but then she saw the look on her best friend's face, and that was how she knew it was real. Without saying a word, she bolted to the door. The second between the moment she turned the doorknob and pulled the door open, fear was rising inside of her as she didn't want to make a fool out of herself by falling for one of her evil cousins' pranks. But she wasn't wrong. It really was her mother.

Y/N tilted her head to see the woman, yet she still couldn't believe in her own eyes. Maureen looked far different from how she had earlier that day. She looked put together, with her makeup and hair done, a classy dark blue dress that fit her so well and a pair of high heels. Now she looked like the woman Layla would one day become.

As Layla was still speechless, Maureen gasped as she eyed her daughter from head to toes. "Wow, you look—"

"What are you doing here?" Layla cut her off fast. The question took her by surprise, but she managed to keep her composure.

"I'm here to walk my daughter down the aisle," she said. "Well, only if she allows me to..."

Y/N was fidgeting with her own hands, her lips pressed tightly together. It was so awkward to be present while those two were having a mother-daughter moment, but she knew it'd be more awkward if she asked to leave. Besides, she needed to make sure Maureen wouldn't say something that would break Layla's heart.

Not getting a response, the mother continued, "I know I haven't always been there for you, and after talking to your friend here—"

Layla shot Y/N a questioning look, and the bridesmaid could only answer with an apologetic smile.

"—I realized that when I got a chance to be a better person, a better mother, then I shouldn't let it go to waste. That's why I'm here. I hope it's not too late to be there for you."

Y/N had a feeling if Layla remained silent, Maureen would burst into tears. Fortunately, she never got to find out if it was true. When her mother finished, Layla took a deep breath and began right away, "I was six when I came home and found you unconscious on the kitchen floor." Her voice trembled even when her head was held high. "I thought you were dead. I was so scared. They took you to the hospital and...later on, I heard from grandma that you'd drank too much that you'd passed out. I was six years old, mum. Who the fuck let their six-year-old daughter see them like that?"

Maureen opened her mouth to speak but Layla didn't let her. "When I was sixteen, I won a beauty pageant. I wanted to feel proud of myself because I'd accomplished something even if it was small, but that night I ended up crying all the way home because the other girls' parents were there, and mine were not."

Y/N's eyes fell to the floor as she sighed into her palm. Her chest felt stiff and heavy, but she believed it wasn't half as bad as how Maureen must have felt then.

Layla swallowed hard and wetted her lip as she carried on, "I'm going to turn twenty-six soon. So...here's your chance to be a part of my happiness for once. Now fix your makeup. You're not walking me down the aisle with smudged mascara."

Maureen's eyes gleamed as she heard those words. She pulled her daughter into an unexpected hug, and even though Layla's arms stayed glued to her sides, Y/N could tell she was also very happy.

The bridesmaid let go of a sigh of relief as she clasped her hands together and pressed them to her chest. But her elation faded as soon as the bride turned back to look at her. She assumed she was in trouble for going to see Maureen behind Layla's back. However, what she got was a "thank you" and the brightest beam she'd ever seen on her best friend.

"I love you," Maureen told her daughter. "I rarely said it. But I do. And from now on, I will do my best to prove it."

"Well, I also don't hate you." Layla's response caused Y/N to giggle and Maureen to widen her eyes. "Sorry." The bride chuckled. "Baby steps."

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It was a few minutes before the ceremony. The guests were already in their seats as the exuberant chatter and laughter contributed to the ecstatic atmosphere. Y/N was waiting in her position on the other side of the closed double doors as she would be the first bridesmaid to make an entrance. Knowing she was nervous, Harry stayed with her as they waited for the ceremony to begin. He held her close as if he hadn't seen her in years and mumbled, "I missed you" into her hair.

"I was gone for a minute." She scoffed.

"The longest minute ever!" he exclaimed.

Clicking her tongue, Y/N pulled back to adjust his tie. Harry cocked his head to kiss her mouth, but she dodged his kiss and warned him not to smudge her red lipstick...again.

"So I was with Layla." She tugged at his collar and smoothed down the jacket of his suit. "She was having a mini-breakdown because she found out her dad was with his other family tonight. I comforted her, and guess what?"

"What?"

"Her mother showed up."

Harry stilled. "Like...her actual mother?"

The look on his face cracked her up as she nodded fast. "Yes. But don't worry, she was sober."

"What about her father?" Harry asked, and she only gave him a shrug. "Oh well, who needs a father like that, anyway? I'm glad she's okay now."

"She seemed very happy. Good for her," Y/N said, biting her lip and batting her lashes at him. "Not everyone is as lucky as baby Ria. She's got such an amazing father."

Smirking, Harry brought his hands up to stroke Y/N's bottom lip with his thumb. "Don't look at me like that, or I'll have to take you somewhere else and make another baby."

"Is that how you dirty talk now that you're a dad?" She raised a brow, hands on his chest.

"Does it work?" He licked his lip. "Does daddy make you wet already?" As he lowered his head to kiss her cheek, he remembered something and jerked away. "Holy shit, Ria can hear us!"

The genuine terrified look he'd got had his wife cackling. Y/N had to reassure him, "she doesn't understand us."

"I think she also heard me fuck you last night. What if it traumatizes her?"

"Harry—"

"What if I accidentally poke her with my dick?! Oh my God!"

"Baby." Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, frustrated, but at the same time, amused by how it'd taken him a whole day later to start worrying. "For the hundredth time, your dick isn't that long."

"Heyyyyyyyy! It's long."

"What's long?"

Gemma's voice caused the couple to jump and Harry blurted out, "the line in Starbucks this morning!"

Y/N was in hysterics when Gemma squinted her eyes at him. "Okay, weirdo. Get back in there. We're about to start," she said and jerked her head toward the door, making him groan like a little boy who was forced to go to bed early.

The couple exchanged a few more cheek and forehead kisses and then Harry snuck back into the room to join the other groomsmen at the altar. The guests began to quiet down as a romantic piece of orchestral music began to play, and the double door opened in front of Y/N. Shoulders back, chin up, she strutted down the aisle, holding the bouquet close to her chest as all eyes fell on her. But as always, Harry was all she could see.

The floor was covered in rose petals, and the music made it feel like she was floating to heaven. Somewhere in the crowded room, someone (possibly Trix) exclaimed, "aww, Harry's crying!" And she saw her husband put on a bashful smile as blood rushed right up to his face. He sucked in a shaky breath but his eyes remained on her. Y/N didn't know it was possible to fall in love with the same person over and over again, but this man had proven her wrong.

Once all the bridesmaid had stood in a line at the altar, mirroring the groomsmen on the opposite side, the music built up to the epic climax as Layla entered the room with her mother by her side. She was the center of attention like she always was, but she had never seemed more unbothered by her surroundings than she was now. She held eye contact with Niall, who had to wipe his own tears with the back of his hand.

The wedding ceremony was formal and flawless, since Layla had made sure they'd rehearsed it at least ten times before that day. But Niall, being Niall, had to include some silly jokes in his vows and high-fived Harry when the audience roared with laughter and his bride gave him a warning glare.

Time seemed to slow down for the exchange of rings, and when the preacher pronounced Niall and Layla husband and wife, Y/N was looking at Harry. Somewhere inside her head, she could hear the voice of the narrator saying, "and they lived happily ever after" like an epic ending of a Disney movie. She felt like her heart might just combust with pure delight.

"I love you so much," Harry mouthed to her when the glitter fell on top of them like snow and the crowd roared to congratulate the newlyweds.

"I love you more," she mouthed back to him, knowing he could hear those words loud and clear in the back of his mind.

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Y/N and Harry were asked to give a speech at the wedding reception. It wasn't a problem for an extrovert like Harry, but Y/N felt like she'd spent her whole life practicing public speaking just for this day. She was terrible at it. If Harry hadn't been there to hold her hand, maybe she would've stuttered or bitten her tongue off, or even worse — burst into tears in the middle of the speech and never got to finish it at all. She thought she'd done a good job.

She'd cracked some jokes about Layla's obsession with wedding flowers and cutlery and made the wedding guests laugh. But she also saw some guests wipe off their tears when she talked about how much Layla meant to her.

"You're my best friend, my older and younger sister, my overprotective mum, and my grumpy aunt, all in one. You're one of the best things that have happened to me, and I hope you'll always be happy like this. But if there are times that you're not, I'll always be there for you."

As the crowd cheered and raised their glasses and Layla stood up to applaud her best friend, Niall turned to Harry, eyebrows furrowed. "You said like two sentences about me!"

"Technically, Y/N also said two sentences about Layla. Hers were just longer than mine," Harry argued, and Niall almost pushed him off his chair for that answer.

The wedding reception started out as a lovely and formal dinner, but afterward, it turned into a frat party with everyone being drunk and dancing like mad. Niall was carrying Layla around on his shoulders while Louis and Liam were dancing on tabletops. Gemma was taking shots with Jack and Olivia, who was there as his plus one. Ben and Nam were snogging in the corner of the room. Meanwhile, Trix had made a new friend named Alice, and the girl was so wasted she kept following Harry around and telling him how much she liked his new movie. It was a scene of madness, the good kind. But eventually, everyone settled down for a slow dance.

Harry and Y/N were sitting at their table, holding hands, when Layla and Niall came up to them and suggested that they switched partners for this song.

"Okay, but be careful! Do not spin or lift my wife up!" Harry warned his best friend, who gave him a thumb up as he led Y/N to the middle of the room and left Harry with Layla.

Turning back to the bride, Harry said, "shall we?" And Layla rolled her eyes and placed her hands on top of his.

Dancing wasn't Harry's strong suit and he knew Layla was good at it, so he kept staring at his feet to make sure he wouldn't step on hers.

"You're not performing surgery, you dumbass," she said, snickering at how he was panting.

"Shut up, I'm trying not to step on your feet!"

"God, how did Y/N fall for you?"

"I have a similar question for Niall."

The bride leered at him as she snorted and shook her head. She seemed a lot chiller than usual, probably because it was her wedding, but Harry thought it was weird to not have her insult him for everything that came out of his mouth.

"Look," Layla trailed off after clearing her throat. "Thank you for what you guys did for me."

"You mean coming to see your parents? That was Y/N's idea, I just—"

"She told me that you told Dan to choose me over his job," Layla cut him off. "It wasn't his choice in the end, but thank you for trying to change his mind."

Harry shook his head as he chuckled. "No problem. I know what it's like to have a terrible dad so..."

"Devlin loves you, he's just bad at showing it. I suppose Dan is also good at being a dad, just...just not mine."

Though Layla had said it with a tone of humor, she was never good at hiding how she was feeling inside, just like Harry. To say she had no common at all with him would be incorrect, because they were more alike than anyone could imagine. That was probably the reason they'd stayed friends for so long, not only because of Niall and Y/N.

"You'll go back to mistreating me after tonight, right?" he asked, making her laugh.

"Yeah, you're making it hard for me not to that right now," she joked as her nose stuck up. "And since everything will go back to normal tomorrow. Listen carefully because I won't repeat this."

"Okay."

"Okay, so...I know that I'm a bit mean to you sometimes—"

"Sometimes?"

"Fine! Very often." She rolled her eyes and Harry's dimples appeared as he told her to continue.

"But to me, you're like...like a...brother...a big brother, and um..." Layla stuttered like a baby just learning to talk. Every word came out with such difficulty that Harry had to press his lips together so he wouldn't laugh and have her yell at him. She tapped her fingers on his shoulders now that they had stopped swaying to the music. Eye contact suddenly became so hard for someone as confident as her.

"And...um...yeah...I-I love you."

"What did you say?"

"You're like a—"

"No, the second part." Harry looked dead serious as he turned his ear to her face and pointed at it. "I have hearing issues, you gotta speak louder—Ouch!"

Layla hit him again, harder this time as he jumped away and put his palms up. "I thought you said you loved me!"

"Tough love is still love," she told him with a massive grin. But he knew she wasn't lying. Tough love was still love, at least to Layla.

I swear to God, when I come home I'm going to hold you so close I swear to God, when I come home I'll never let go

Another song came on, and Layla returned to Niall so Y/N could dance with her husband for the first time that night.

Like a river, I flow To the ocean, I know You pull me close, guiding me home

"It's been a while since we last danced like this," she said, placing her hands on his neck as he pulled her in by the hips.

"Don't worry, ma'am. Your partner is a professional."

The smug look on his face earned him her gorgeous smile as she scrunched up her nose. "You can't beat my previous partner. Niall was really good. Layla made him take a two-week dance class for the wedding."

"Psst, who needs a dance class when you can just learn from your own experience? Now shut up and dance with me!"

The song reference cracked her up and so she pulled his face down to kiss him again and again, until they both got lost in their world and all the other people faded away.

I swear to God, I can see Four kids and no sleep We'll have one on each knee, you and me

And when they've grown up You're still the girl in the club When I held your hair up, 'cause you had too much

"What?" Harry stopped singing as he pulled back and arched an eyebrow at his wife. She lifted her head from his chest, giggling at him. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she whispered. "I just love to hear you sing."

"I sing to you and Ria every night though. Thought you were tired of my voice already."

"No, I love your voice." She pulled his face down so their foreheads touched. "The first time you sang to me, we were also slow dancing at a wedding, remember?"

"How could I forget? You remind me all the time." Harry chuckled and pecked her lips. "That was also the first time I'd sung to someone other than myself."

"Glad to be that someone."

"Glad that you were that someone," he said and tapped her slightly on the nose.

And I need you to know that we're fallin' so fast We're fallin' like the stars, fallin' in love And I'm not scared to say those words with you, I'm safe We're fallin' like the stars, we're fallin' in love

The music took over their conversation for what seemed like forever. Harry raked his fingers through his hair, looking at the other couples dancing around them before turning back to Y/N and said, "I'm a bit drunk and this might sound cheesy as fuck, but..." He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. "I'm so thankful that of all the people on this planet, I got to fall in love with you."

"Aww. So am I, baby. So am I."

When Y/N leaned in, he cocked his head to the side, pouting and not letting her kiss him because he hadn't finished expressing his love.

"I keep thinking about all the years I've spent with you," he said. "From the day I first met you, to the night I confessed my feelings for you, to the first time we made love, to our wedding, and to this moment right now. It seems like it was yesterday that I was rambling on with Niall about this annoying girl who was about to be my flatmate, and now she's six-month pregnant with my baby." He breathed out a quiet laugh. "Maybe next year or a few years from now, when I look back at this moment tonight, we'll be expecting our second one. Maybe Jasper?"

"You just knocked me up six months ago, Harry!"

"Shhh! I'm just drawing up a plan in my head! Don't ruin it!" He covered her mouth with one hand to stop her from interrupting him. She was shaking with muffled laughter as he went on, "and maybe Asteria could be a bridesmaid at Gemma's wedding. Get it? Because Gemma would be so oldddddd."

Y/N gasped. "You're lucky she didn't hear you say that!"

"I trust you not to tell her. That's why we're married. It's all about trust." Smirking, he continued, "then one day, we'll be at our daughter's wedding or maybe our son's. And I'll still step on your feet as we dance like this and embarrass them with our terrible moves. Then many years later, at our grandchildren's weddings, I'll be dancing with you again, but I might need a stick, or maybe we'll be in our wheelchairs wheeling around to one of the songs that are too loud for us but the kids think it's cool."

"What if we're the cool grandparents who keep up with trends and actually enjoy those songs?"

"Don't expect too much from me, I hate most of the music today and I live in today."

Y/N dissolved in laughter as she pressed a kiss to his chin and circled her arms around his waist, her eyes closed and chin on his shoulder. Now she couldn't stop imagining them being eighty years old and slow dancing in their bedroom to one of the old songs playing on the radio.

"I love you," she told him for at least the twentieth time that night, "don't you ever forget that, baby. You're my whole world. "

"And you are mine." He lowered his head to kiss her neck and whispered those three words to her again and again.

Oh, I'm in love Oh, I'm in love Oh, I'm in love

[currentfandomkick]

Bio! Dad Strange part 7

More Gotham Rouges being themselves, carrying for Marinette, crossover with Why Marinette Hates Tim, and yes, this au is slowly coming together. somewhat. I’ll get to the Ladybug days sometime soon, because yes, that is being covered, and heads up, Marinette is allowed to have multiple relationships and crushes in this. Yes, there is writer salt in this au, but characters are being fixed from cannon actions to more season 1 characterization or fannon... except lila. she will be split into bascially-a-new-person-altogether and fannon as Layla Rossi. Fannon and cannon felix will make eventual appearances since both are fun when the fandom’s gotten involved.

Sorry for those tagged, i posted on the wrong blog a ew minutes ago, so this is the corrected version.  Marinette stares at her uncles and aunts when she gets back this time. They were acting weird. That usually meant… “So who’s being targeted this time?” she asked Rose, who flinched. “The council will kill me if i say.” The Council… who’s unofficial mission, she realized last year, was to keep her safe and–oh. Oh. OH! “Is it Hatter or Jerimah?” She was tired of poeple calling the knock-off her favorite uncle’s moniker. He didn’t even deserve his own in her opinion. “Uh, both, i think.” “Oh.” Not good. Jerimah can plan and get Hatter–Tetch–to listen. Tetch is insane and obsessed with her as Alice, whatever that means. Marinette was worried this time. She was right to be. Hero Stalker was missing, and no one would tell her what happened. It was loosing Red Hoodie all over again. She was angry and hurt and only 9 years old. Aunt Quinn, best person ever, and Aunt Pan, ‘worst person to give Rose to ever’, took her to Central City for a week to try to keep her out of their reach. It was okay, kind of. She didn’t catch Barry Allen–best forensic scientist and very much a ‘meta are just people with powers, let them be people’ person–at any crime scenes. She was glad most of then weren’t from her Aunts this time… one of them was theirs but the guy was stalking a teenager and the kid was as scared as Marinette is of Mad Hatter/Tetch and Jerimah teamed up so. So she had to help, okay? the police didn’t help in Paris with the Dupont Stalker. The Gotham ones ignored cases like this mostly. And she had no clue about Central but damn if she wasn’t going to help the kid out. Aunt Quinn–trip alias for Harley Quinn, obviously, trapped them. She didn’t know what Aunt Pam did with her plants, but there wasn’t a body left in the end. Marinette, as Jill Smith, helped them scale up to the roof and get somewhere safe. She checked up on them and they were okay. she was glad. Aunt Quinn took her to the Meta Museum–technically the Flash Museum but it was about metas and crimes against them too so she thought of it as the Meta Museum. some of the exhibits made her feel weird, sounded a bit like the news reporters in Paris calling metas a problem to be rid of. controlled… Then she ran into The Barry Allen, best Forensic Scientist, and she heard him saying they got things wrong and she knew it! She couldn’t  stop herself, physically, from asking him questions about what they got wrong. Iris West, Barry’s finacee and a meta-reporter, went off on different things, emphasizing not just the Flash but different victims and how to prevent it. Marinette took a lot of notes mentally. Aunt Quinn was amused, Aunt Pam, who introduced them as such, tried to pull her away but… Marinette was happy. And the couple seemed to like listening to Marinette rant about cases, mostly Barry’s. “Oh and what about the case with the woman who melted? if you still have her remains i think if you use a stabilizer–cold base is a good start but she should reconstitute in a few days. It looked like the melt was an instability and molecular stability issue for maintaining physical form in this universe, not others if the worlds portals are anything to go by, so introducing stability is all that needs to be done and she’s likely to be herself again” Barry stared at her when she said that. was that too much? Its one of the cold cases from a few months ago. Did she overstep? “I, how did you find about other world portals?” Marinette almost froze. but she remembered that the Waynes did have the tech and a few months ago there was a big multiverse mess… “Its part of the multiverse theory, isn’t it? and since we’ve seen heros from other universes enter ours that means its less theory and more reality, and that people can enter them if they use the right molecular vibration with the correct chemical composition and ability to enter the intended environment. With those restrictions, it makes more sense for people to make windows instead, and uh, some of the Rouges tried once and a lot of Gotham ended up seeing other places a few months ago.” it wasn’t a lie. she was implying she was there when she wasn’t, not saying she was. This is still the only way she can do things like this and not look like a liar. Iris saw the slip though, and knew something was up with the girl. Before she could tell Barry there was an alert–Gorilla Grodd. Marinette was upset about the interruption, but knew that an attack meant hide. She forgot her stickers at home and were going back that day. She noticed that where Mr. Allen should be was moving more like a… Oh. He’s a speedster. and only one speedster has measurements like his. The Flash. Harley grabbed her tight and ran, Ivy behind Marinette. Grodd was taken down while they were on their way home. Then there was an explosion and it was dark… – Marinette woke up chained to a wall, in a dark place, with a lot of water under her. Jeriome and Tetch were fighting. Her head hurt. Then Tetch was killed in front of her. She didn’t cry. She screamed though. Apparently it was enough to cause some things in the room to move. She was scared. Jerimah kept debating what to do with her. How to prove that He is Better than Jerimone and Harley. Marinette’s powers kept getting worse. Everything was loud. she could hear heartbeats and footsteps. It took week for her to catch him too far in his thoughts, too caught up in his ‘revenge’ until she knew he coudln’t hear her movements. She broke out of her chains while flying, well, floating at that point. she carefully dislocated her thumbs, slipping out and moving carefully. Jerimah wasn’t looking when she hit him. He wasn’t dead. Heartbeat still. She grabbed his phone, almost breaking it when she grabbed it. she did her best to be gentle (cracking the screen) as she called Rose. It took forty minutes for her to be found. Rose turned the dead Tetch into fertilizer. Frost grabbed Jerimah and said something about giving him to Zsasz. – Marinette blinked a few times when she was back at Ivy’s. Apparently Rose wasn’t letting her out of her sight. Ivy freaked out and took over Gotham while she was missing. There was a new Robin. Who looked way too much like… “Hero Stalker?” The new robin froze when he saw Marinette, Pixie Pop, shaking by a green crystal. “Pixie pop you’re…” “Don’t. Rose will hear.” Hero Stalker nodded, watching her carefully. “What happened?” “Tetch and Jerimah–uh, Hatter and Mr. J. Mr. J killed him when he got me…” Robin paled at that. “Is that why…” “The plants are coming back in, yeah… Don’t tell Bats.” Hero Stalker stared at her. “You know what i look like.” “Yep.” “Do you know…” “uh, yeah. and two more form the League apparently… I’m blaming you for all of that figuring out for the record.” “What did i do?” “Make it easy to figure out… you don’t even–nevermind. Just go, don’t tell Bats and one of my uncles will have us meet up before i leave again, okay?” Robin listened, because he knew Pixie Pop didn’t mess around. – Robin ended up trapped in a puzzle maze. With Marinette who was just Done with everything. “how did you–” “You looked like you. Didn’t even try to change hair or clothes or anything. YOu fail at disguise 101.” “I could just look like–” “Voice, posture, gait. All the same.” “oh.” then “Why are you here?” “Got caught grabbing catwoman’s jewels  on camera.” “Wait, you’re the one returning them?” “Duh.” Marinette was insulted he thought she wouldn’t. “So…” “Make a different persona, since i made you ages ago. And that let me make your whole team–Yes your not-brother and even batgirl. Honestly, NIghtwing’s is very obvious if you get he was Robin and look at old tapes, but he’s a lost cause.” “I know! That’s how i figured them out!” “And that’s why you need to make a new persona so everyone is not outted by your obviousness. I can pull off Princess, Pixie Pop and three other personas since i was little and don’t slip up. Up your secret identity game already!” “I. Okay. But can i ask Rose for help from her plants on drug rings and really bad guys?” Marinette hummed. “I think so. I’ll have Uncle Riddler give you a burner to talk to me when i get home-home.” “thanks! Bats is good but he’s missing so much and its annoying!” “Your lack of secret ID game is annoying,” Marinette grumbled, “No tracking me though. I will spill to Frost and he will be extra annoying and lecture-y.” “He can’t be worse than disappointed agent A.” “I garanutee you i think i know who you’re talking about and it pains me to say Frost is like a chemical-only angst-y version of him that forgets he’s always right.” “How–how!” “I think its the lack of sleep and over-exposure to all the gases.” – those that asked for tags (or seem like they’d like to be?) are below. list is still open. Next time is (probably) more Paris while dealing with Gotham, a touch of Batfam mentions while Marinette chews out Tim, who reveals that Red Hoddie was the former Robin and then curses her with meeting Robins pre-Robin-ning. @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @dast218 @weird-pale-blonde-person @mystery-5-5

[packsbeforesnacks]

Homecoming || Noah & Winn

TIMING: Friday, May 29th, 2020, before Ariana howls. LOCATION: Noah’s Townhouse PARTIES: @noah-kalani & @packsbeforesnacks  SUMMARY: After the long drive up from Philly, Winn just wants to see his friend. Noah, meanwhile, would rather see almost anybody else. Making a scene in your yard after midnight isn’t an HOA violation, right? WARNINGS: None.

Why was Haukea barking? was the first thought that crossed Noah’s mind as he was dragged back into consciousness. It was midnight on a Friday and, like many lazy ass twenty-somethings that had no actual lives, he’d fallen asleep with his Xbox controller in his hand. But that wasn’t the real issue here. No, no. The real issue was that Haukea never barked. Stumbling upright, Noah followed the sound of his puppy out of his room and down the stairs, trying to get his sleep drunk mind to wake the fuck up. Because something wasn’t right, and it was evident by the tension in Haukea’s body and the pounding sound coming from the door. “Shhh baby, it’s okay,” Noah cooed, running a hand down her back to try to calm her, and subsequently himself. But nothing could have prepared Noah for what he was going to see upon opening the door. Because standing there was one Winn Woods in the flesh.

Winn had left Denny in the car with his dad, but he could hear the excited panting as his dog caught sight and scent of Haukea. How had they not let their dogs meet again? Winn hadn’t seen Noah in person since the pack meeting, and he’d knocked on the door with a soft smile, eager to see his friend despite the lateness of the hour and the circumstances surrounding his return. That smile disappeared upon seeing the man. Noah looked like he’d seen a ghost. A coil of dread built in his gut, that something had happened while he’d been away, and Winn started talking, fast, “What’s wrong? Is it Luke? Layla? Ariana?” Those seemed the most likely candidates for tragedy. “I— I know I wasn’t back as soon as I said I’d be, but…” Oh no. What if… He didn’t want to think about it, but he had to say it. “Did something happen to Blanche? I didn’t— I thought she was fine. What the fuck happened, Noah?” He put a gentle hand on Noah’s shoulder, not willing to go for a hug after the other man had requested space a few weeks ago.

Standing there, staring at the man they had been trying to find all this time, Noah cycled through a multitude of emotions. First, there was the relief at knowing Winn wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere. Then, came the hurt of knowing that Winn had planned this, he’d planned to leave them. He knew what he was doing. He wasn’t coerced in any way. And finally came the anger as Winn touched him, as if nothing had happened. Noah couldn’t help but to see red, his wolfy mind already running through how he was going to rip that motherfucker’s hand clean off his wrist. “Don’t. Fucking Touch. Me.” Noah stated slowly, batting the offending appendage away from his shoulder. “You forfeited that right the. second. you. left.” Every word was punctuated with a shove, every fiber in Noah’s body wanting Winn away from his door, away from his safe spot, away from him.

Well, that was… unexpected. “I— What?” Winn looked at Noah, the way the other man was coiled in anger. Noah’s right hand was in a brace, and Winn’s mind raced with possibilities. Had there been a fight? Had— Had something happened? As he was unceremoniously shoved out of Noah’s doorway, Winn held up his hands, surrendering to… whatever was making the other man angry. “What the fuck do you mean left, Noah? I told Blanche I was coming back. I left a note. My phone was out-of-commission, I know, but that’s why I let her know.” He was probably going to regret this, but Winn slowly approached Noah again, wary. “Noah, what happened? Talk to me. Please.”  

Noah almost couldn’t believe the bullshit coming out of Winn’s mouth. A note? He ran away and left a note? What was he, twelve? Not to mention his flimsy ‘my phone was out-of-commission’ excuse. Bullshit. Borrow a phone from someone. Hell, go to a fucking library for Christ’s sake. “And do you want to know how Ari found Blanche, Winn?” Noah asked, his body instinctively pushing Winn backward again. “Passed out in her car. Passed. Out. In. Her. Car.” His good hand jabbed against Winn’s chest again to emphasize his point. “Why? Because you LEFT HER LIKE THAT!” Yes, Noah was yelling, and yes, he was making a scene on the front lawn in front of the whole neighborhood, but at this point he had bigger fish to fry. “Also, fuck your fucking note, because we never fucking found a note. And even if we had, that would not excuse the fact that you are a fucking ADULT, who could have found a phone, or a computer, anything really to check in. But no. You ran away and deactivated all your shit like a fucking coward.”

Winn could hear Denny barking from the car, unused to hearing Noah yell. His dad was… confused, probably. Hell, Winn was confused. “I— Yeah, Noah, I know that B was passed out. She passes out when she uses her, uh, powers, sometimes? Her hatch was open and she didn’t have a blanket when I found her. So, guess what I did, man? I woke her up and told her I was sorry, and that I loved her, and that I was going to be back in a few days? I covered her up and closed the hatch, and, again, left a note? Did you— So, like, I’m getting that she didn’t remember that?” Winn frowned, trying to keep his cool, talking slow and soft, but urgently. “Dude, am I not allowed to not check an account for a couple’a days? And I didn’t de— Wait, is my shit deactivated? You’re fucking kidding, right? When the shit did that happen?” There was a slow and steady dread building in Winn’s gut, and they were lucky none of the neighbors had turned on their lights yet. “Noah, please, can we just go inside and talk? I didn’t run away. I was only supposed to be gone for, like, two days. I mean, I fucked up with fighting B, but, like, we were gonna talk about it when we got back? I thought. I need you to listen and not go fucking nuclear for a second because this is a stupid fucking misunderstanding.” And, okay, he may have pushed back. But Noah needed to cool the fuck off.

It was becoming harder and harder for Noah’s head to stay clear, the wolf inside of him wanting, no, craving the violence that seemed to be brewing between the two men. He hadn’t felt this type of anger in literal years, but the feeling came back to him the instant Winn pushed back. And the next thing he knew, they were both on the ground, Noah’s broken knuckles finding the solidness of Winn jawline. But the funny thing about punching someone with a broken fist was that it hurt. Feeling the pain start to radiate up his arm, Noah just looked at Winn, looked at where they were sprawled on the grass, and knew this wasn’t the answer. Luke had said that Winn needed understanding. But maybe, it was actually Noah who needed to be understood. Sitting there, still straddling Winn, Noah took a beat to breathe like Simon taught him, willing the emotions that were raging inside to calm. “I thought you were dead, Winn,” he whispered. “No call, no texts, not even some fucking morse code shit in the dirt.” Noah shook his head. He didn’t know exactly what he was trying to say. But he knew he had to say something, especially as the anger started slowly turning into a certain familiar sadness. “So, I’m sorry that I don't want to go inside and talk. I’m sorry that I’m angry. I’m sorry that I simply cannot fathom the choice that you made and the worry you put everyone through.” He shook his head again, good hand pressing on Winn’s chest, almost willing the other man to stay down. Because Winn needed to hear this. Or at least, Noah needed Winn to hear this. “And don’t tell me that you didn’t have a choice. Because you did, you and I both know that. You had a choice and you chose to leave.”

One second, Winn was pushing back on Noah, trying to get him to calm down. And the next, Winn was being knocked the fuck to the ground. His jaw throbbed as Noah pinned him, but Winn thought, maybe, that Noah’s hand hurt more. Because Winn had slugged someone with a broken hand before, and it was never a good idea. The last time he’d been under Noah had been, admittedly, less… intense. Equally weird, equally confusing. But less… raw. All Winn felt now was the force of Noah, telling Winn exactly how Winn had made him feel. And Winn wanted to push back, wanted to explain himself, wanted to let him know that this was a stupid misunderstanding. But, as he felt a hand push on his chest, he knew that wasn’t the right choice, not right now. And maybe this wouldn’t be the right choice either, but Winn had to try something. So, he leaned up, gently, pushing aside Noah’s good hand, and pulled the younger man down against him.

“Hey, hey,” Winn said, soft, soothingly, into Noah’s ear as they laid there in the grass. “I’m here now. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.” He could’ve waited. He should’ve waited. But he’d felt so strongly, so intensely, about needing to fix his mistakes, find his dad and explain. And all of that had happened, and Winn felt good now. But Winn felt awful, too. Because, even as Winn had been telling his dad about how much Noah and all the rest had meant to him, they’d thought he’d run away. They’d thought he had almost hurt Blanche and was disappearing to escape from his mistakes. And that hurt, that burned in his lungs, but it wasn’t important right now. He wasn’t important right now. No. Noah had to be the center of Winn’s concern right now. Winn ran his hand down Noah’s back, grip tight, unwilling to let the other man go. “I won’t leave,” Winn swallowed roughly, and, fuck, he was about to cry for a third time this week, “I won’t leave you, Noah. I promise, okay? I promise, I promise, I promise. I’ll never leave you. So long as you’ll have me, so long as you want me here, I’ll stay. I should’ve known better. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He brought one hand up to Noah’s hair, ran it through, held him tighter. Because Winn was scared, too. Scared to lose Noah. And he hadn’t thought that was even a possibility, but the thought petrified him. Winn inhaled, a shaky breath, and noticed something new, something that stuck in his throat and made him clench his eyes to stop the tears. Noah smelled like pack.

Noah could feel the last bits of anger that were still slowly burning in his belly fade completely as he let Winn pull him forward and into his arms. And yeah, it was weird and awkward to be full force straddle-hugging your bro (???) out in the open of your front lawn after midnight, but Noah was past the point of caring. Resting his face in the crook of the other’s neck as he talked, Noah just let the familiar scent waft over him. Winn was fine. Winn was here. And Winn was promising that he wasn’t going to leave him alone again. Sitting there, listening to the way the other man swallowed around all of these heavy words, Noah waited for the happiness to fill him. This was what he had been searching for right? Someone who would make it a point to stay. But it was at that moment that Noah realized this confession was not what he actually wanted. “Winn.” His voice was soft as he sat up, wanting the other to see the seriousness in his eyes. “I don’t want you to promise not to leave. Because you can leave. You are allowed to leave and go and do whatever you need to do. Just like I’m allowed to hate the everloving shit out of it.” He wasn’t going to guilt anyone into staying just because their staying made him feel better. That wasn’t what a healthy relationship/friendship/anyship was about. No, a healthy relationship was about knowing when it was time to put your past aside and grow up. Because even though it would hurt if/when Winn left, Noah would get through it. He already had. “Just please, just promise me you’ll say goodbye next time.” Noah whispered as he wiped at the one slow tear falling down his own cheek.

When Noah pushed out of his grip to lean up, Winn was worried that he had done something wrong. But the anger that Noah had was seemingly drained out of the other man, his voice calm, but serious. Noah’s eyes, in the soft light of the quarter Moon, felt like they saw something in Winn, but Winn couldn’t tell what. And then Noah was talking, and Winn’s heart, already something so open and soft, broke a little. Winn remembered their first encounter, the one Noah didn’t remember, remembered Noah’s voice as he’d talked about his brother, about his whole family, in the corner of the Arena. He’d kept that from Noah, wanted Noah to know he’d revealed something so personal to a stranger. But, now, Winn thought maybe he’d been wrong. Because, for all of the dumb misunderstanding that this situation was, if Winn had just realized how deep Noah’s hurt was, he knew that he would have told Noah, wouldn’t have let even the possibility of a misunderstanding happen.

“Noah,” Winn said, leaning forward to knock his head gently against Noah’s, his hands coming up to wipe at the streaks running down Noah’s face. His own eyes were soft, he knew, tender with all of the genuine remorse he contained. “That was a promise I made because I wanted to. I know I can go wherever I want, but that’s… not what I meant. I meant that, well… You’re stuck with me, now. I want you in my life, and I want you to come with me, if I have to go away. I don’t want to,” Winn swallowed, trying to figure out the words to give voice to the soft thrum beneath his skin, the certainty he felt, “This is gonna sound crazy, Noah, but I— My wolf called out to yours, and I know, I know you’re not a full wolf yet. But that doesn’t mean you ain’t pack. Doesn’t mean you aren’t… with me, now. Before the others, more than the others.” He took Noah’s good hand, brought it up to his heart, so Noah could feel it, steady and true. “It’s not guilt, it’s not me feelin’ like you’re holding me in. It’s what I feel, Noh. And what I feel is… I’m not gonna want to say goodbye to you. Not ever. Not if I can help it. But I promise. I promise to tell you, and that promise is simple, because… because it ain’t gonna happen.” He pulled Noah into another hug, the other man in his lap, and squeezed tight, the wolf inside of him together with Winn. And he was sure, even if he didn’t know quite what he was sure of.

Noah thought he was done with crying this week. He thought he was done with his emotions crashing down on him in waves. But with the feeling of Winn’s calloused fingertips on his cheek, Noah knew he was a goner, the tears flowing in earnest when Winn repositioned his hand to his heart. He’d never really been a cryer before Winn. But then again, he hadn't had many people come into his life that he hadn’t been prepared to lose somehow. At least not since the accident. Letting himself be hugged and held by Winn, Noah just breathed into the scent of him, wolf trying to memorize this feeling. He didn’t know what the word pack meant for him, hell, he didn’t even know the word wolf meant for him. But if it meant he’d get even just a sliver of this, maybe that was something he wanted. Noah wasn’t sure how long they sat there, or how long he would have let Winn sit there with him. But he knew eventually he’d have to end it. “Fu-ck,” Noah breathed out, wiping off the aftermath of his emotions with the back of his hand. “The neighbors are deffffffinitely gonna talk tomorrow,” he continued with a slight grin, sliding off of Winn’s lap and onto the grass next to him. “You’re okay, though, right? Like, no injuries or anything?” Running his good hand over Winn’s chest, Noah poked and prodded assessing Winn for any signs of damage.

“Only injury I have is from where you just punched me, buddy,” Winn said, cheekily. “And I think you might be the worse for wear there.” He wanted to pull Noah back into his lap, could feel himself blushing when Noah was poking at him, and was suddenly glad for the lateness of the hour. As it stood, he slung an arm around Noah, leaning into jokes, as usual, “And let the neighbors talk. I’d break a thousand community guidelines to make sure you were alright.” He turned his head to look at Noah, and felt the air punched out of him. The moon had come out from behind a cloud again, and it bathed Noah in soft white light. The late spring breeze blew through Noah’s hair, his eyes still a little shiny from where he’d been crying. Winn’s arm felt too warm, against Noah’s back, Noah’s hand too hot against Winn’s chest. No, Winn thought. I can’t.

But, whether it was the emotional intimacy, the raw moment they’d shared together, or a feeling Winn had been brushing off before, it was staring Winn in the face now. Winn could near feel his tail wagging, knew that both parts of him were at one in this moment, safe and relaxed and happy. His nose twitched, and Winn caught Noah’s scent again, woodsy and fresh and, was it weird to say he smelled green? Intermingled was, as Winn’s nose had told him earlier, the scents he associated with pack, but changed, just a little. The pine had a hint of the sea, the charcoal warmed him, like the fire was bigger somehow, and there were scents he didn’t have words for, yet. And Winn refused to sniff Noah again, but it all came crashing in at once. Winn moved his arm into the air, faking a yawn, needing to not touch Noah. “My, uh,” oh God, “my dad’s in the car?” His voice rose at the end, a mild panic setting in, sure that his dad could see him being a disaster — and would know what that meant. Winn hadn’t meant to, had known that liking a straight boy was doomed from the start. But there Noah was, in Winn’s heart, stubbornly taking up a corner for himself, as if to say You won’t be able to avoid this.

“Good.” Noah huffed, poking Winn’s (muscular) pectoral with a bit more force. He didn’t really regret punching Winn, but at the same time he still didn’t exactly want to exacerbate an existing injury or cause him too much bodily harm. He just wanted to cause the normal ‘you get on my last nerve bro’ amount, you know. “But yeah, probably not the smartest idea to punch with a half-healed hand.” His grin was a bit sheepish as he flexed his fingers a bit under the brace. His slow, janky werewolf healing had only done so much, but luckily for the both of them Noah’s bones were pretty much fused back together by this point. It was just residual pain and soreness he was feeling now. Or at least that’s what he hoped. Sitting there, Noah just looked at Winn waiting for the other to say something. But when Winn finally spoke he almost wished he hadn’t. “Wait, your dad? Your dad is in that car?” Noah’s eyes widened with what could only be described as sheer terror. Shit. Fuck. Winn’s father just saw him deck the living shit out of his son. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Scrambling to his feet, Noah pulled Winn up surprisingly quickly (and surprisingly forcefully for a dude with a broken hand) brushing off all the grass she could see in the moment. Because he did not just punch Winn in the face and then cry on top of him, no sir. He was civilized, okay? He was a good… friend, okay?

“Want me to kiss it better, bro?” Winn said before he could really stop himself. Thankfully, Winn was pretty sure Noah had only heard the bit about his dad. “Uhhh,” he said, being yanked up and stumbling for a moment. He felt Noah’s hands brushing him off, which, like, okay, down boy. But the stumble was going to turn into a fall if he didn’t steady himself. He threw one hand out, landing on Noah’s shoulder. The other grasped at his hip. And, oh, come on. He could hear his father laughing, even through the glass, and Winn whipped his head around to mouth ‘SLEEP’ as well as he could. The street was well lit, so hopefully his dad had seen him. He wanted to spare Noah some of the embarrassment. “Um, it’s, uh.” Winn hastily removed his hands from Noah’s body, shoving them in his pockets like a teenager. “He’s asleep, man. He’d sleep through a bomb.” And if Winn was talking louder than usual, well, hopefully Noah wouldn’t notice, and they could pretend his dad hadn’t seen that, and when Winn introduced Noah to his dad — uh, not like that — both of them could get away unscathed. “So, um, we prolly need to… talk, right? I mean, like, really talk? I can, um. I can stay, now? I’ll wake up Dad, get him to drive him and Den back to the house, and I’ll grab an Uber or somethin’ when we’re done?”

But, as if on cue, Winn’s head whipped around as he heard a howl, deep and mournful. It wasn’t a Full Moon. It didn’t sound like Luke. Shit, shit, shit. A number of terrible scenarios ran through Winn’s head, and he swung his head back around to look at Noah. “I— I don’t want to leave,” you, “but you— you heard that, right? That sounds…” He grabbed Noah’s good hand tightly between both of his, “I swear, I’ll be back tonight. And we can talk. Or we can talk tomorrow. Or any time. I just. I don’t want you to think this is me tryin’ to get out of talkin’, I’m just worried ‘bout whoever that was.” Winn’s frown deepened. Was. He sure hoped that wasn’t about to be literal.

Noah would have taken note of all the extra hand placements made by one Winn Woods, if he wasn’t straining to see inside of the car, his mind worrying about Winn’s dad more than Winn. He could deal with the later later, after all. Focusing back on Winn, Noah tried to get himself to calm down a little bit more, but that's when he heard it. It was faint, but it was there, his ears ringing with howling. Looking over to Winn, Noah saw his body language change, all this happy hopeful energy dissipating in and instant. Howling meant bad. Good. “Go.” Noah nodded, after Winn spoke, pushing the other man towards the car. His heart was beating loudly in his chest, but he held firm in his convictions. Someone else definitely needed Winn more than he did right now. “You don’t have to come back, just text me when you figure out what's up, okay?” Noah patted Winn’s shoulder gently, not really wanting to turn around and go back into the house but knowing he had to. So he did, slowly and deliberately, only stopping to look back at Winn and his dad once before he closed the door and bolted the lock.

[danetobelieve]

A Latte On Your Mind || Layla and Winston

Coffee Plus had always been Winston’s go to place when it came to finding somewhere to meet. The thing was that this was a bit of a weirder meeting then they normally had in this place. The request that they had received online had been one that a few months ago they would’ve probably ignored. But with everything that had happened in the first part of the year, Winston was pretty confident that they could do this and if anything went wrong they could either handle it or run like hell. So there they sat, waiting in a booth like they’d agreed. Their laptop in front of them so they could work while they waited.

Layla had made a promise long ago to her girlfriend, Frankie, that she would always be there for her. But the night her parents tried to end her life, she knew she couldn’t hang around or put the one person she loved most in the world, at risk. It had been almost a year since she had been in contact with the girl, and now that she was finally comfortable enough to feel safe, she had decided reaching out would be the best. It just happened to be that there was someone out there who could possibly help. She had never met them, but thanks to social media, she was about to play a game of seek as she walked into the small coffee shop. Scanning the room, she spotted exactly who she was looking for. Walking over to them, she stopped before taking a seat, “Winston…” Her voice was quiet, and her nerves were getting the better of her. She talked a big game online, but, in reality, Layla was as docile as they came, unless threatened.

Winston’s eyes shot up from the screen of their laptop and to the girl who had taken a seat opposite. Winston pushed the computer away from them slightly and took a long sip of their coffee before smiling and nodding. “Hi, you’re Layla … right?” Winston wasn’t really that good at this side of it. The truth was that they were nervous about most things at the best of times and they weren’t about to just put that on display. The balancing act of actually living their life in this supernatural nightmare (at least at times) had become tedious. “Do you want a coffee or something?” Winston asked hoping that the offer could help to break the ice. They weren’t sure what was going on here or why Layla needed help but Winston wanted to do what they could. This was what they were working towards and now that they had discovered that they could use magic they had another way of doing that. Though maybe this wouldn’t require that.

Layla wasn’t getting any vibes that Winston was hostile or had any desire to hurt her. If it was one thing being a werewolf had provided, it was a heightened sense of any danger and probably the greatest gift the stupid bite had given her. Seeing that it was safe to take a seat, she slid into the booth opposite the person sitting in front of her. “That I am. Um…” Letting her eyes shift to a nearby menu that was hanging just past them at the counter, she quickly scanned over it, “An Iced Coconutmilk Latte, if you don’t mind. I’m still working out the job situation, but I’ll pay you back. I’m good for it.” She had sworn to Ari that she would pay her back, and she was going to do the same for Winston.

“Uh, don’t worry about it, you can get me one another time or something.” Winston slipped out of the booth and headed to the counter, quickly ordering her drink before returning to their seat. She seemed tense. Which was understandable, given the circumstances Winston imagined that they would be very tense. It must be weird. Probably a little humiliating. But this was White Crest and weirder things than this happened everyday. “So you’re new to town?” Winston asked waiting for the drink to arrive, this was probably better without any distractions. “How have you found it?” 

That she would do. Kindness seemed to be something that was coming from the most ironic of towns, considering all the scary shit that seemed to be going down here. “I can do that, sure.” Layla shifted in the booth a little watching them get up to go place her drink order. Was she doing the right thing reaching out to Frankie like this? She wasn’t absolutely sure. She wanted the girl to be safe, but she needed to know that Layla didn’t just abandon her, because she wanted to. She did it for survival. Of course, a thought had crossed her mind. What had her parents told her family and friends? Seeing them return to the table, Layla shifted her focus back to Winston, “Yeah, I just got here not too long ago. And truthfully? Aside from it being uber creepy, it’s not as bad as I initially thought, but maybe that’s because there’s actually been decent people here. Have you lived here long?”

Wrapping their fingers around their mug of coffee, Winston took a long sip of it before turning their attention back to Layla. They were curious about what had brought them to this of all places. Some of the most unusual people seemed to be ending up here and Winston couldn’t explain what drew them here. Other then the obvious supernatural hotspot of course. “Once you get over some of the creepier aspects of White Crest, it really is okay. There are lots of good people, lots of good places to go and lots to see.” Though it wasn’t always good things, but they weren’t going to scare Layla with that just yet. “Uh, yeah, my whole life actually, I’ve never really been anywhere but White Crest.” They always wondered if they needed to get away. Just get out of White Crest and see some of the world. Maybe there was actually somewhere, somewhat normal out there.

In all honesty, Layla was just on the run and trying to get as far away from danger as possible. It was her nose that had led her here. But what Winston was saying had been true. Just in the little time she had spent in White Crest, she had seen the good in people. Maybe it was the monsters and things that went bump in the night that seemed to band them together, but most people cared about the well being of others, “I’m kinda starting to see it. The goodness in people. My heart’s been closed off for far too long, but it’s weird, because I’ve never felt more at home here than I have anywhere else.” She paused, “I’m rambling. You said good places and lots to see. What would you recommend?” Winston seemed easy to talk to, and she was glad she had met them, “It’s a big world out there, but you should go explore it sometime. I’m sure you’re not in the same situation I’m in.” I don’t think anyone really is…

“Weird, but I get exactly how you feel,” Winston wasn’t about to move anywhere else because there was never anywhere worth moving to, “there is just something about this town that makes me unable to consider moving elsewhere. I used to think that it was to do with my friends and family but I am really starting to think that it might be something else. But you should give us a chance, we might surprise you.” Looking down at their laptop, Winston tapped their thumbs on the top of the screen thoughtfully. “I mean, what are you looking for? Places to eat? Things to do? Things to see? Places to go? There’s a load of really interesting stuff you can do.” They looked up and down before shrugging. “Maybe one day, can’t go right now, too much for me to do…” taking a long drink of their coffees as they arrived, Winston now convinced of their privacy paused. “So, did you want to tell me what you want me to do?” 

Layla missed her home back in Tennessee, but only because of Frankie and the friends she had left behind. Her parents had made it clear they didn’t want her around by their apparent need to kill her, but White Crest, just in the short amount of time was offering something to her that no other place had, “I know for fact, for me anyways, that it’s not family or friends, because besides Ari, Ulf, and give or take a few people, I don’t really know anyone here. But it just feels...right. As for things to do...nothing in particular. I should probably focus on the basic needs of life first, before I ever consider anything recreational.” Grabbing the drink that had just been brought out, she took a long slow sip enjoying every second of it. It was their question that got her attention focused back on why she had come to meet them in the first place, “Yeah, sorry. I want to get a message to my girlfriend. I had to abandon her without word of why, and I just want her to know that it wasn’t because I wanted to. It was because my life was...is in danger.” Had she said too much? She’d soon find out.

Raising an eyebrow at the mention of Ariana’s name, Winston did their best not to choke on their coffee as subtly as they could. Pleased with the fact that they had managed not to spit their coffee all over Layla, Winston swallowed and wiped their eyes which had begun water. “Ari, like Ariana Bennett?” Winston asked curiously. How did this girl know Ariana? Either way, if they were friends then there was even less reason for Winston to help. The friend of your friend is also your friend? Wasn’t that how that saying went? Or was it something about enemies? Her next confession had Winston coughing on coffee once more. “Woah, woah, okay we can definitely get the message to your girlfriend easy, we’re going to have to be more specific about whether you want to call, video chat, email, instant message, carrier pigeon, smoke signal or use a telegraph, but I feel like we should circle back to the needing to abandon her because your life is in danger, are you safe now? Is that why you’re here?”

Picking up on Winston’s choking, Layla narrowed her eyes in curiosity, but also concern, “Are you okay? Do you need help, because I do know some first aid…” The first aid her parents had taught her back when they assumed she would be the next Cooke family member to carry on the hunting legacy. However, when she saw they were fine, it gave her some relief knowing she wouldn’t have to explain herself to anyone, if she couldn’t save them. “Uh...yeah, I think so? I don’t know her last time, but short, a little feisty, but super sweet? Why do you ask? Is there something wrong?” She was starting to worry. Had she approached the wrong person for help. It did give her a sense of peace knowing they were still willing to help, “Carrier pigeon...really?” Squeezing her eyes and shaking her head, she retrained her focus, “Whatever isn’t going to be traced back here. That’s what I want, so you’re like the pro at this. What’s your suggestion? And she’ll know it’s me. We have our own little code.”

“Yeah I’m fine, you just shocked me a little bit and something went down the wrong way.” Winston swallowed and wiped moisture away from their eye. Taking a moment to catch their breath again, Winston sighed and nodded. “Don’t worry, Ariana is a friend of mine, I actually dyed her hair,” not something that Winston thought they would ever be bragging about but here they were. They considered Layla’s problem. She obviously had a message. “Okay, the carrier pigeon thing was a complete joke, but could you be more specific about like the length of your message, is it written down, is it a video, is it a sound byte? The more detail you can give me the better. It might actually just be as easy as sending the physical mail with no return address. Depends.” 

“As long as you’re okay…” She looked them over once to make sure. She let out a soft sigh of relief hearing Winston was a friend. If Ariana trusted them, she could trust them. “It looks good. Really good actually. At least I know who to go to if I ever want, or need, to change my look.” Layla was attached to her red hair though, and probably wouldn’t change it anytime soon. Their question made her think. What did she want to say to Frankie exactly and how? “No return address...could I send her a video? Like a dvd. If I’m going to tell her I may never be returning home, I want her to at least see my face one more time to let her know that this is genuine and how truly sorry I am.” She looked down at her drink as tears began to trickle down her pale cheeks.

“Yeah seriously don’t worry I’m good,” Winston replied with a shrug. It wasn’t a big deal. “Well, I’m not really sure that I can guarantee repeat success but I’m sure Ariana could supervise and make sure I don’t do anything too damaging.” They hoped that they weren’t going to have to dye her hair for the same sort of reason that Ariana had asked for their help. “I would recommend you use a USB, if you think there’s a password she can guess then you could encrypt it but that’s risky. I guess you could put a note in there.” Winston frowned gently. “Are you okay?” they said quietly, reaching across the table and slidding a napkin across to her. “Do you want to fill me in a little bit on what’s going on maybe? It’s cool if not, but you look like you’ve got things to say.” 

Layla was listening to them, but she refused to raise her head. Reaching out for the napkin, she wiped her eyes and forced back the lump that had formed in her throat, “I know exactly what the password could be. She’ll know it.” With a quivering breath, she finally looked back up to Winston, “It’s the least I could do right? Telling you.” Gathering her nerves, she spoke, “Long story short, I became something my parents didn’t think was possible, and because of it, they tried to kill me, so I ran. I don’t know if you believe in the supernatural, Winston, but there are things in this world that aren’t so nice, and because I was born with a target on my back, I am now one of those things. And my parents...they desperately try to rid the world of those things.”

Raising an eyebrow gently Winston was about to ask her if she was sure that she really wanted to explain herself to them, but then she was launching into it and Winston wondered if perhaps they had heard this story before. It sounded awfully familiar to their friend Orion, even had some similarities to his sister Athena. Though that was someone that Winston didn’t want to be thinking about. “Actually, I believe in the supernatural very much,” Winston carefully looked around them before continuing speaking, “I don’t want to push you for anymore detail but believe me when I say that I empathise with you very much, though I’m sure we’ve had very different experiences and I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, the truth is that you’re not the only one who’s learning a new way of life. Hell I’ve become different too and whatever you are; and like I could try and guess; vampire or zombie seems unlikely, maybe you just found out you’re fae or maybe you’re a fan of the moon,” they paused again, “point is that it doesn’t matter. You’re not alone here.” 

Hearing them speak, Layla didn’t feel quite so alone or ashamed. She was even able to raise her head and look at them. But knowing that Winston believed and that they were similar to Layla, at least in not being completely human, gave her some relief. “I wouldn’t exactly say I’m a fan of the moon. At least not anymore.” She used to love looking up at the moon. Laying on the ground and staring at the night sky wondering where the stars could take her, but that all changed after she received the bite. “It feels good to be able to talk. Ari and her family have been so kind, but I don’t want to keep burdening them with my problems. I don’t want to burden you either, but you’ve got skills I know nothing about, and after this is done, I’ll leave you alone. And don’t worry, if anyone can keep a secret about who...what they are, it’s me.”

Nodding gently, Winston hoped that they would be able to at least help them contact their girlfriend, ex girlfriend? Winston wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter though. They were clear on one thing, Layla had something to say and she just needed a little help saying it. “Maybe you’ll come around to it…” they shrugged, “listen, this world, it’s intense, but it’s amazing too. If you can get used to it, which I am not sure that I have. But some people seem to thrive here and you could too.” They listened carefully before shrugging. “You don’t need to leave me alone, if I didn’t want to be here helping you then I wouldn’t be, sometimes you need someone to help. Maybe I’ll need your help one day, you never know and then you’ll owe me and I’ll definitely have to get it back from you. Totally.” Winston was trying to ease it for them. “Don’t worry, secrets are pretty inherent to this place.” 

How had she been so blessed to find Ari, Celeste, Ulf, and now Winston. Layla definitely had reason to lay her head down tonight and count the kind things that had happened. It would be the first time, in a long time, she would be able to go to bed with a smile on her face. “Hopefully. I think I’ve just got a lot to sort out in my mind, you know? But you’re helping me with one of those things, and for that, I’m forever grateful.” She gave him a soft, sad smile, “And I don’t know what you would need my help for, unless you’ve got a cheer problem or need your nails painted, but okay.” She took a sip of her coffee. “So what’s next? How do we proceed to do this?” She didn’t want to take up anymore of their time than she already had.

Nodding, Winston gave Layla a quick smile. “I understand, everything gets almost infinitely more stressful when the supernatural gets involved. It’s all so aggressive. I don’t really get it to be honest but it’s the world that we now live in.” Winston paused and considered their predicament. “I’m sure you can give me a manicure or something if you’re feeling really guilty, but I feel like if we don’t stick up for each other and build a community of us who do it then how are we going to stand a chance against the crazy shit that’s out there.” They took a long sip of their coffee, revelling in the caffeine for a moment before nodding. “So, film your message or record it or write it or whatever you decide you want to do and you can do that on your own or I can help or someone else could help and you could send it to me. Whatever works.” 

Everything they were saying made so much sense. They all had to stick together, especially when it came to certain people in the world who wanted other’s dead. It wasn’t fair for Layla, Winston, Ari, and so many others not to be able to feel safe in the world they lived in. Everyone had deserved that right, “I agree. What gives anyone the right to tell someone they don’t belong or don’t have a say in things? People, wolves, whatever should have a right to live as they want as long as they’re doing it safely. I surely don’t want to put anyone’s life in danger. That’s not my goals or my motives, but I do want to be able to live a somewhat normal life…” Her voice was low, but stressed. Layla took a small sip of her coffee to try and gather herself. “I can do that. I’ll see if Ari or Celeste can help. Ulf still kind of intimidates me, and I don’t want to bother him too much, since he was kind enough to share his trailer with me.”

Raising an eyebrow gently, Winston in one sentence or so learned way more about Layla then they had in a lot of the time that they had just been sitting there talking to her. “Of course, the first time I learned that hunters were actually a thing, that people decide to go out and hunt and kill others, it’s terrifying. In some ways I can’t believe that this has all somehow been kept secret and yet in others I know that turning a blind eye and denying it is sometimes easier then coming to terms with the truth.” Winston looked down at their sneakers for a moment, gazing at their dirty white laces trying to think of what was best to say. “Cool, yeah of course, once you’re ready and you’re done with whatever your message is let me know and I can set everything up and encrypt it all.” They hoped that this had helped. They were glad that Layla had somewhere to stay, but they were somewhat suspicious of the fact she was staying in a trailer with someone called Ulf. Ulf sounded a little too much like wolf, but then again didn’t Ariana know someone called Ulf?

“Yeah, imagine growing up around hunters.” Layla paused. She kind of gave them more than she should have, but it didn’t seem like they were out to harm her. “Sometimes I wish my parents could have turned a blindeye. Not been so by the book. I might actually still be home and with Frankie and headed to college, if they had just broken a rule or two for once in their lives.” She glanced out the window of the cafe seeing a bird fly by. Turning her attention back to Winston, she knew what she had to do. “Got it. You’ll be hearing from me again pretty soon then. At least I’ll have one weight off of my shoulders once this is done.” She finished off the remainder of her coffee. “I won’t waste anymore of your time today. I’m sure you’re pretty busy.” Sliding out of the booth, Layla stood up, “And hey, Winston, thanks again. What you’re doing...it’s good. Hang in there and watch your back.” And with that Layla tossed her cup in the trashcan and was gone.

[offrankies]

New Beginnings || Graham & Frankie

TIMING: A few days ago PARTIES: @grahamstoker & @offrankies SUMMARY: An anxious, homeless lesbian with lots of questions convinces a hematophobic vampire to let her be his roommate, and gets some answers in the process.

Rushing in to a new town with nothing but a backpack filled with things hadn’t been one of her brightest choices. Frankie knew her grandma had to butter up to her parents into accepting her decision and that would mean eventually getting most of her stuff from her house, but until then, she couldn’t afford a place to live on her own as she only had enough money for a month’s worth of rent and food. Her first day in town had been spent driving around, in hopes of finding Layla walking around, but also to start learning her way around. She’d eventually found a grocery store, a board on the entrance with different kinds of ads. One in particular had stood out, a simple “room for rent” with a scribbled address. Her grandma would’ve argued it was sketchy, but at this point she was desperate for a roof to sleep under. A knot had formed on her throat as she stood outside of the apartment, her hands clenched in fists against her chest. She had no job, no education other than school; just hopes and dreams that she knew White Crest would fulfill. With a deep breath, heart pounding on her chest, Frankie placed two knocks on the door.

The city of Rome wasn’t built in a day, they said, but Graham found himself absently wondering if it was built by vampires as he sat splayed on his couch, one leg over the arm as he lazily flipped through the channels on his TV. It probably wasn’t; thank god he wasted thought on that. He finally had a day off both his jobs, which he seemed to have worked every day since he arrived in this weird-ass town and dammit, he was going to enjoy his nothing-to-do. So it was odd that that would be the one day he received a couple knocks on the door and he frowned to himself, wondering who it could’ve been. He stretched and got to his feet slowly, trudging over to the door and not bothering to look through the peephole before opening it to regard a… girl. Teenager. It took him just one short moment to mask his confusion and his expression softened. “Hey there,” He said lightly. “What can I do for you?” He never was one to shy away from temporarily entertaining (and maybe even trolling) passing salespeople; she was no different. 

Frankie’s hands started fidgeting, mindlessly pulling the broken skin on her nails as she waited for the door to open. It hadn’t been even a minute, but the seconds stretched like years in front of her, and the moment the door opened, she braced herself to the shiny colors that would greet her… except nothing came, just the voice of an older man. Her mouth opened and then closed again, in shock. There was absolutely nothing surrounding the other, at least nothing other than air, and she had to fight the urge to raise her hand and touch him to know that he was real. It wasn’t possible, never in her life she’d seen a person without an aura - at least, not one that was breathing and staring at her with bright eyes. There were times where she’d met people with small, almost concealed auras, but there was always a hint, a glimpse of colorful shadows around them. His voice made her blink a few times rapidly, snapping out of her thoughts, and she quickly straightened her back, clearing her throat, ignoring her heartbeat on her ears. If she had been nervous before, it had turned into excitement. Who- no, What was he? “Hi, I’m-- I’m Frankie, I just moved here. Uh---” Her shaking hands reached into her backpack, pulling a creased piece of paper and extending it to him. “ I was wondering if you-- if the room offer is still there?” Out of all the things Graham was expecting the girl named Frankie to try to sell him on, asking for his spare room wasn’t on that list. Part of him forgot that he had even offered the room out. Only part, mind, but it was still enough for him to stand there for a second or two to process what exactly he wrote. He remembered soon enough, though, and he gave her a small nod, taking the paper from her gently and noting her… presumed nervousness. “Yeah! Yeah, c’mon in, Frankie.” He offered, standing aside to allow the girl passage. He was thinking of someone a little older, perhaps, but he had moved out of his house by the time he was 18 so he knew it was possible. “Don’t be scared,” He added, his tone casual and approachable. “I promise I’m not one of those weirdos that post stuff to lure girls in. Not my style.” Hopefully she would believe him on that.

In all honesty, the possibility of him being a predator hadn’t crossed Frankie’s mind until he mentioned it, and she couldn’t help but laugh at that. Normally she’d know if he had such intentions, but for the first time in her life she was completely clueless with what and who she was dealing with. Still, she was way too interested to let the opportunity pass. She made her way inside, looking around the room. “I’m not scared.” She reassured him, turning around to give him another look, the lack of aura once again making her breath catch in her throat. Maybe she needed glasses? Maybe the place was somehow locking the auras from showing?  “This is… all new for me, so I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.” She didn’t know if she was referring to finding a place to live or the lack of flowing colors everywhere, but she guessed it was true for both. “It’s a lovely place though, … uhm.” Her lips pressed together, waiting for a name. “Well… start by taking a seat anywhere you think’s comfortable,” Graham replied, closing the door behind her and going over to the bar that separated his kitchen from the living room, keeping his eyes on her not warily but just to show that he was giving her his attention. “Oh, it’s Graham,” He gave her the name as he got out a glass and filled it with ice and water. “Tell me about you, Frankie; how old are you, what do you like to do, things like that.” He suggested, going back over to her and offering the glass to her. At least she wasn’t afraid; good. He tried to avoid giving that impression when he could avoid it. 

Her eyes moved around the room, and Frankie wasn’t completely sure if she should sit down on the couch or not. “Nice to meet you Graham.” Oh, fuck it, if she was going to live here she needed to see if the couch was comfortable or not. Taking her backpack off her back, she sat down, now focused on the man. “Well, I’m nineteen, soon to be twenty. Or not so soon, really. My birthday’s in November. I want to get a bachelor’s in childhood education so I really need to look into colleges around here. Uhm, I also kinda need a job but I have enough money for rent until I get one.” Was she rambling? Oh god she started rambling. She wiped the sweat of her hands on her black jeans, a nervous laugh escaping her. What are you supposed to say in these things? “I like animals and I have my own motorcycle...?” As the girl situated herself, Graham studied her movements, her speech patterns and, of course, the information she gave him about herself and he couldn’t help but scoff when she told him that she didn’t have a job but did have a motorcycle. “So you’re from out of town,” He assumed. “Your only education is high school and you need a job,” He basically repeated her though he noted that she had money. Part of him wondered for a moment if it was because her parents were rich, that she was a thief or she had a job before but that was then and this was now so it didn’t matter too much to him. “And you like animals. That’s good, at least.” He chuckled, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. “So I gotta ask; what made you come to White Crest?” Relatively speaking, White Crest DID have the weird ability to draw people to it for some reason or another. He had gotten a suggestion but he was learning that a lot of people just… showed up. He felt like that might’ve been the case with this girl.

“I know it doesn’t look good, but I can’t get a job or enroll in college unless I find a place to live first.” Frankie’s hands were once again fidgeting on her lap, the realization that she was blowing the interview. However, his question made her freeze on her seat. The image of Layla crying and telling her all the secrets she had kept from her filled her mind, and she had to bite down her lower lip to keep herself from tearing up. “I’m … I’m looking for my girlfriend.” Her voice was awfully quiet in comparison with her previous outburst, and once more she found herself fishing inside her backpack, grabbing the tape to show it to him, her lips tightly pressed together. For a minute, she didn’t say anything, pondering. She could lie, come up with a pitiful excuse and use emotional leverage to convince him to let her stay; or she could be honest, and risk sleeping on the streets yet another night. “Her parents told me she was dead, but she sent me this two days ago so I’m- I’m trying to find her.” He was thrown for another loop and Graham’s expression got more gentle almost immediately when Frankie came clean about why she was there. His thoughts nowadays seemed to occur in short bursts of memory and the briefest of contemplations and for that moment, he recalled the face of a woman, with a warm smile and an infectious laugh. Her hand on his shoulder, her lips against his, the smell of expensive wine tingeing her breath as-- He blinked and he gave a small sigh as he took the tape from her shaking hands. He would’ve been lying if he thought to deny her request, to tell her she’d have more luck somewhere else and to not get involved but he couldn’t bring himself to and he turned the tape in his hands carefully before handing it back. “Okay,” He relinquished. “Okay, just… calm down, it’s okay.” He assured, putting his hands on his hips. He exhaled through his nose. This changed a couple things up. “So… since we’re being honest, what’s going on with your girlfriend? Why did her parents sign her off as dead?”

Frankie's lips were once more tightly pressed, a knot on her throat forming as the other stood quietly. She had flunked it, and she quietly closed her backpack and grabbed it as she stood up, ready to be kicked out. However, his answer and question made her open her eyes wide, carefully taking the tape. Once again, she was at a crossroad, needing to decide whether to lie or not. A nervous laugh escaped her, and she shoved the tape back with her belongings, not daring to meet his eye, the lack of aura still making her nervous, but what she was about to admit made her even more anxious. "You won't believe me if I tell you." Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up to him, an apologetic smile painting her lips. "She's- she's a werewolf-- and her family wanted her dead because they're hunters and hunters kill werewolves, and she was supposed to be one of them but then she wasn't---" Taking a deep breath to slow down her babbling, she hadn't realized the tears were willing down her face. "I- I know this sounds taken straight out of a lame 90's movie like Teen Wolf but I swear I'm being honest." Though he could feel Frankie’s anxiety radiating off of her, Graham was determined to keep his eyes on her with no impression that he was about to toss her out. However, from the moment she said ‘werewolf’, he smothered the immediate scoff that wanted so badly to escape his body and he inhaled sharply through his nose as a compromise. He remained steadfast in his gaze as she continued to be upfront with him, or at least upfront enough that he didn’t think she was actually lying - rather, he found Frankie’s very evident attachment to this girl to be endearing. He was realising as she talked that he probably wasn’t the best person to deal with teenage drama. He got another short memory of the woman from before, thinking she would’ve been much better at this. “Oh, sweetie,” He did scoff this time as he gently reached forward and wiped a tear from her face with a thumb, giving her a smile. “I believe you.” He said, stroking the side of her face briefly in what he hoped was a warm gesture (her skin certainly was) before pulling away and reaching over to retrieve the decorative box of tissues from the side table in the corner and offering it out to her. “That’s awful, though. I can’t imagine being killed or hunted by your own family. And so young to be given such a curse.” He lied this time, easily but he still meant what he said. “No more crying on the couch. Just take a deeeep breath.” He had to lighten the mood if only for his own sake.

The moment Graham's hand touched her, Frankie took a sharp intake and let out a sharp yet soft scream. He was colder than the ice cream she used to share with Layla, and the seconds his finger lingered on her face stretched dlike eternity, her heart sinking on her chest. "You're cold." She whispered, swallowing to get rid of the knot the crying had formed in her throat, and for a moment, Frankie felt small, and alone, realizing that she had left everything and everyone chasing something that sounded like a dream. Without a warning, she closed the distance between them and burrowed her face on his chest, her sobs filling the room. Nevermind that he was a complete stranger with no aura and honestly a potential murderer - he believed her, and for a second that's all she needed. "Please let me stay here." Her voice was muffled by the clothes and her sobs, and Frankie was too desperate and broken to realize that not only his hands were cold, but that his whole body felt like a big human shaped rock. One moment Graham was offering out tissues and the next he was standing there with a teenage girl burying her face in his shirt, feeling her fingers grasping at his clothes like she was drowning and scrabbling to grab onto anything to keep her from going under. He gulped and his eyes darted around the room under furrowed brows for a few moments, as if he were the butt of some hidden-camera show. Well… he knew, he knew that it didn’t matter if he was being secretly recorded or not; he used to be a surgeon. That part of his brain kickstarted for the situation and though he experienced hesitancy, his mind still seeming to want to determine whether or not he was actually sympathetic to her plight or just eager to get this over with, what empathy he had retained from his old life sparked back to life and he placed a strong hand on the top of her head. He started weighing the pros and cons….. and figuring out that there weren’t a whole lot of pros. Baby steps. He pet the top of her head gently. “Okay.” He said softly. He wanted to add some levity again but he left his response as it was and simply stood there, steadfast for her to cry herself out.

Frankie felt like her whole mind was spiraling without control, flashing images of Layla and her watching bad movies in her bed with their legs tangled together, her grandmother teaching her the importance of meaning behind the different colors surrounding a person, her mother softly caressing her hair when life became too hard one day to another. It felt like years had passed, her whole life changing in a matter of hours. She’d struggled, she was still struggling, and even though she took pride in being a smart, strong woman, it took times like this to remember she was still only a kid. The feeling of Graham’s hand trying to comfort her mixed with his soft answer took more muffled crying from her, and it took several minutes for her to calm down. Eventually, her shoulders were no longer shaking and her fists weren’t clenched on his shirt, but instead cradled against her own chest as she took a few steps back from him, puffy eyes and rosy cheeks from her sudden outburst. Her breathing was still irregular, but at least she felt a little better.  “I’m sorry-- I didn’t mean to do that.” And like that, she let herself drop back on the couch. “My- My grandma told me stories when I was a kid and I never thought they’d be real, about werewolves and fairies and vampires, and now Layla just throws this bomb at me and I left my home to find her and I don’t--” She stopped to take a deep breath, wiping her face with both her hands in frustration, but also to wipe the tears that were still there. “I don’t even care if it’s real or not, I just need to find her.” All things considered, Graham thought he was treating this situation like a boss. He waited patiently until she pulled away from him in which he removed his hand from her head. the sudden separation of her body heat from him almost prompting a sigh but he kept it under wraps. He examined the tears on his shirt briefly - bigger fish to fry, don’t worry about it - and he offered the box of tissues again. “Yeah, it can be a little… jarring,” He agreed, sitting on the arm of the couch lightly. “You said she sent you that message, what, two days ago? The likelihood of her still being here is pretty good,” He said before his expression shifted. “But I’ll be honest with you - werewolves aren’t nice creatures to fuck around with. Have you figured out what you’re gonna do after you find her?” 

“I hope you’re right.” She mumbled, sinking even more on the couch. His question made Frankie’s mouth hung open for a few seconds as she thought, before she clenched her teeth, a frustrated groan leaving her as she burrowed her face in her hands. There were just too many things going on through her head and  Graham, though blessed for not kicking her out the second she opened her mouth, wasn’t helping. Honestly, Frankie hadn’t thought that far ahead and had hoped that things would sort out on their own once they happened. She could worry about what she would tell Layla after and if she found her. But his previous statement floated around her head, and she turned her face towards him, one eye peeping from between her fingers. “How… How do you know so much about werewolves? And why aren’t you freaking out?” And she put her face in her hands again. Graham felt his eyebrows do a dance on his forehead as they went from raised in worry to half-quirked with some other emotion. He guessed he didn’t say the right thing but he felt it was important to at least think about future plans before jumping in even deeper. The look carried through into his mulling over her question when she asked between her fingers. She was being honest so far but would she believe him? He was far less concerned with her leaving if she didn’t like what or how he was but given that she dropped everything to come running to her werewolf girlfriend, he decided to go out on a limb and he started to rub his hands together absently, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ve been told a lot of things and I’ve done a lot of reading,” He replied honestly. “As I’m sure you’ve been able to figure out, this town is hella weird. I dunno what all was in those stories your grandma told you but at least half of it is probably true.” He explained. “This is the part where I should probably tell you that I’m a vampire.” Well, there it was. He didn’t adjust his form at all as he spoke, wondering how the girl was going to react to that information.

Her mouth formed a perfect circle, her hands slowly sliding down her face to her lap. Her face felt weird because of the dried tears and her eyes still stinging with a burning sensation, but it didn’t quite matter when he had dropped yet another bomb. The Frankie from six months ago would’ve laughed in his face, grabbed her stuff and walked out of the apartment without a second doubt, but after everything that had happened in her life, and after Graham so easily believing what she was saying, it would be hypocritical of her. A small voice told her than, maybe, he was messing with her and joking after the werewolf bit, but the feeling of his cold hands and hard body was still lingering in her skin. A vampire. Unconsciously, her body shifted slightly away from him. Vampires were… bad, right? At least most movies portrayed them like that. Then again there was Twilight where vampires were good--- Oh, What if he was like Bella? And that was why she couldn’t see his aura? “Um. I’m- You won’t drink my blood if I live here, right? I mean I guess I could--- maybe-- if it doesn’t hurt too much but it would be just super weird and-- ” “Oh no no, that’s not my intention,” Graham replied quickly, keeping his blue eyes on her steadily and noticing her subtle body language, distancing herself from him as he expected; good, she had some form of self-preservation. “You’re a little young and…” He did actually consider withholding the following information but decided to go all the way since they were already there. “The sight and smell of blood makes me… nauseous. Freaks me out.” He DID decide not to add the part where he would’ve said ‘I might kill you’ - there was a line so he decided to hide it behind the good ol’ hematophobia. “I don’t feed in front of other, uh… people.” He wasn’t lying about this part; he already dropped the ball with the whole ‘vampire’ bit. “UNLESS-- unless… well, no. I still don’t plan on it.” He shrugged. “If your girlfriend is over and she wolfs out, then all bets are off.” He felt the need to specify. “I draw the line at being attacked in my own apartment.” He gave her a clever smile. “BUT that being said, you’re off my menu. Just… warn me if you’re planning on getting blood anywhere.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Any more questions so far?”

“How often do you feed?” The question was out of Frankie’s mouth before she even noticed what she was doing, her lips pressing together to keep her from spilling any more blabbering or stupid questions. Honestly, at this point she had no idea what she was anxious about, but she couldn’t seem to find the off button. “Sorry. Uhm. Don’t answer that. I’m sorry your only food source makes you sick.” She remained quiet for a moment, thinking. “What does wolfing out mean? Do werewolves turn into actual wolves? I thought they just… grew more hair and… I don’t know, got claws and stuff? And Is the alpha beta thing an actual thing? And-- do they have, like, insane senses? Can they turn them off?” She stopped to take a deep breath, suddenly standing up to face him better. “Sorry. We can, uhm, I guess you can fill me out on the wolf department later. I-- I kinda need to come clean about something too.” Her mouth was like a faucet the way she just spilled question after question but Graham kept in mind every one of them until she finished with a taper and she realised that she was unloading her curiosity onto him. He didn’t necessarily mind but that was what he HAD in mind when he asked about questions. He found it curious for a moment that she was inherently more interested in the ‘wolf’ part than the ‘vampire’ part but that was to be expected - she WAS the girlfriend of a werewolf, after all. “How ‘bout this, then - I’ll answer your veritable onslaught once you tell me what’s on your mind.” He compromised, looking at her patiently.

Frankie was silently thankful of how calm Graham was, taking each outburst better than the last. She licked her lips as she figured out the best way of telling him, as it was the first time she ever confessed her gift to someone outside her family. “Okay so---” Her left hand reached forward to him, not touching him but rather lingering a few inches away, tracing where his aura would be if he had one. “-- there’s absolutely nothing here. You have no aura. And I kinda think it’s because you’re, uhm, dead, but I can’t really tell because I’ve only dealt with people before?” Blabbering. She was blabbering again. Another deep breath, her hand dropping, fingers toying with each other. “What I mean is --- I can see auras. And they’re annoying for the most part because they’re super bright sometimes. So it’s nice that you don’t have one.” “Ah, you’re an aura reader,” Graham replied casually, lying through his teeth - he honestly didn’t know that aura readers were a thing but she didn’t need to know that. He didn’t find it surprising that she could read auras though he did find himself slightly surprised at his own lack of aura… he didn’t have one? He was undead but he was still a-- well, maybe he didn’t qualify as a person anymore. That thought made him… “Well! Happy to help; I can imagine how annoying that could be.” He painted over his brief expression with a smile. “Guess it works out in our favour.” He said, reaching forward with a finger and poking her palm gently, feeling her heat against his skin. “Okay, my turn.” He cleared his throat, going back to rubbing his hands together. “I try to only feed once or twice a week. I call when werewolves involuntarily transform ‘wolfing out’. Like someone ‘freaking out’ but with a wolf,” He looked up as he recalled the questions in order. “Only werewolves who have achieved some sort of equilibrium turn into actual wolves, to my knowledge. Most of the time, they take on quadrupedal beasts with wolf features. Alphas and such are mostly a myth but I THINK the wolves that were born with it prefer running in packs. The “alpha” thing isn’t much more of a thing to werewolves than humans who want leaders. Annnnnd… They have enhanced senses that get stronger nearer to the full moon.” He furrowed his brow. “I didn’t miss any questions, did I?”

His reaction made Frankie smile in relief. Oh, thank God he knew what she was on about, because she didn’t have the slightest idea on how to explain how, less alone why she could see auras, and in all honesty, even if she knew how, she didn’t want to do it either. Her eyes looked down to his finger poking her fidgeting hands, and because she was a curious teen, she reached forward to take his hands in hers, the cold touch completely foreign to her but, now that she knew what to expect, it didn’t bother her. For the first time since she had entered the room, she remained quiet, letting him speak, her fingers playing with his and letting her warmth conquer his tundra. It was amazing how Graham could recall every single question she had asked, even the ones she didn’t even remember saying. Even after he had stopped talking, she remained silent. It was way too much information, and by the way her brows were furrowed, she was clearly struggling to process everything. “I need to write this down somewhere before I forget.” And like that, she let go of his hands, a sigh escaping her. “Thank you. For, like, everything, not just the not having an aura and.. answering my shi--- stuff.” Was she allowed to swear? “Uhm, I promise I’m not always a mess ...? Maybe sometimes--- but you won’t regret taking me in.” The space between them was quiet for a moment following his string of answers as Graham felt her fingers touching his hand, almost childlike in their curiosity. He had to admit that the warmth was one of the things he missed the most and he got another brief memory before it faded back out and he saw the look on her face - maybe he answered too many of her questions at once. She was a teenage human and this was a lot to take in. He chuckled when she censored herself and shook his head. “I can write everything down for you and you can curse - you’re a grown-ass adult who can make her own decisions.” He quirked an eyebrow. “That’s why you’re here, after all.” He pulled to his feet from sitting on the arm of the couch. “Just take a few days to get settled in, just relax. One step at a time.” He pulled the front of his shirt away from his chest to keep it from sticking subconsciously. “C’mon, lemme show you around. You can have the guest bathroom - keep it clean,” He motioned for her to gather her things and follow her. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.