#/eternal/ off the table for ANY future relationship. you /cannot/ come back from that shit!!! and no good friend would ever think you should

[ziracona]

Paula was so fake for saying “You hurt her, I kill you,” to Josh abt Rebecca in S2 and then not doing anything to him, forget kill, after he left her at the alter at the end of s2.

[greensaplinggrace]

What Is There To Celebrate About the Darkling? (Part 3)

1 2 3 4

His shadow powers are so badass, literally how could you not celebrate him for that alone?

Villain wears black trope REPRESENT.

The way his cloak billows dramatically in episode one before Alina enters the Fold.

The way his cloak billows in general.

His little face in the background after his and Alina’s first kiss as he tries to compose himself.

Him knocking on the table in episode five when he gets back to see Alina. My mans was so hopeful that he’d finally get to third base with the love of his life. RIP.

Large hands. Very tall.

The way he literally cannot tear his eyes away from Alina during the entire scene where Alina dresses him and they have their first kiss.

The softest looking hair I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe Alina got to run her hands through it and she still left him.

How he urgently looks around for Alina outside after she leaves in episode five, right before he confronts Baghra. He’s very frantic and panting and clearly concerned and not being subtle at all about his emotions.

Also the way he walks when he’s leaving Baghra, with his hands stuck out to the side and his fists clenching and unclenching as his form grows smaller in the distance. He looks like a tiny penguin waddling away.

Son’s evil dastardly bastard plans once again thwarted by own mother. Can you imagine living for an eternity and never being free of your parents? Fuck all that other shit, no wonder he went darkside.

“She is all that matters now, not me. She is the future. She is the one-” SIMP

His little smile before he goes to answer the door after they kiss. The way his hold on her lingers as if he can’t bear to part with her. Forehead touch. They are giggling.

The way he runs back in for another kiss. This man is so gone it’s not even funny.

He calls her to him in the books and she spends the entire time agonizing over how upset he’s going to be. The man literally just wants to ask her about her day.

Defends Alina to Baghra after he witnesses her getting harassed. Defends himself to Baghra after she treats him like shit. Love that for him.

“I made something.” / “Let me make a mark on this world before I leave it.” / “It’s my own name I’m afraid of forgetting.” / “He understood then. The Grisha lived as shadows, passing over the surface of the world, touching nothing. Forced to change their shapes and hide in corners, driven by fear as shadows were driven by the sun. No safe place. No haven.” / “There will be, he promised the darkness, words written upon his heart. I will make one.”

Him offering Alina his kvas. They drink from the same glass.

Sasha “no thoughts head empty only Alina” Morozova having to look away and calm himself when Alina licks her lips after drinking his kvas.

Literally his entire confrontation with Kaz. Absolutely hilarious. Local centuries old Black Heretic gets bested by a teenager with one (1) flash grenade.

“I never intended for it to be the blight it’s become.” - Genuine regret. A+++.

Asks Mal what Alina’s favorite flowers are and then gives them to her. Was it manipulative? Yes. Was it awful? Absolutely. Was it the funniest and smoothest shit I’ve ever seen? 100%. I laughed my ass off.

Alina: *enters the fete dressed in the black kefta* *Darkling.exe has stopped working*

This man takes one look at her lack of guards and goes: what’s more important than how beautiful the wifey looks? her safety. *protective bf mode initiated*

He admires how pretty he appears in the mirror of his room with absolutely zero shame and 100% pride. We stan a vain icon in this house💕. Also the mirror is in front of the bed?!?! 👀👀👀

His knife ring.

“You looked like you needed saving,” as fire plays across his features and he looks at Alina with an expression that makes my soul want to splinter into pieces. The implications, the pain.

Will display his complete and utter adoration for Alina in front of the entire Court including the King and Queen despite the fact that that is the worst thing he could possibly do in the political environment.

“No ordinary tracker. No ordinary girl. Orphans of Keramzin reunited. AdOrAbLe.” - How do you say you have issues without saying you have issues?

The way he eclipses Alina when he’s stepping down from the dais. The inherent romantic symbolism of the eclipse and what that means for him.

Him getting excited about the stag to the point where he’s eagerly rummaging through the maps on his table and urgently asking Mal tons of questions.

The five second delay in his thoughts as he processes that Mal isn’t cooperating. Poor guy really thought that everything was finally coming up Sasha for once.

He constantly uplifts Alina after Baghra’s emotional abuse. He constantly helps her with her self esteem and reassures her that she’s doing well and that she just needs more time.

“Yeah I don’t know what Baghra’s summoning ability is,” he said, like a liar.

Even after Baghra suggests that Alina left he doesn’t believe it. He has to hear it from Kaz after searching for ages before he finally begins to believe it.

“You smuggle Grisha out of MY PALACE!”

Titty grab during the kiss scene.

He lifts her up onto the table!!

Local whipped dark overlord gets excited that Fedyor has found Alina and has to suffer through the embarrassment of acting like a lovesick fool when he learns it’s just about Nina.

His relationship with Nikolai.

The fact that Alina’s scarf blows past him before they even meet.

The way he nods with such an understanding expression when the Conductor is lying his ass off as if he sympathizes with everything the other man is saying and isn’t secretly planning his elaborate murder.

Puppy dog eyes all the time.

Every time his smile is forced and ingenuine and he looks like he’s about to stab someone.

Every time his smile is genuine and he looks super soft and loving.

“You have no chance, ShAdoW mAn.” Literally how is he ever going to recover from this.

His hands motions when he summons. I just think they’re neat.

He kills the Conductor. Hated that guy. And he looked sexy as fuck doing it.

He hates the Druskelle, he hates the Ravkan monarchy. I can relate.

He’s NOT a bootlicker, unlike some.

Dad mode gets activated when David raises his hand. Aleksander just goes along with it like an exasperated father.

Ben Barnes nose scronch.

He begs for Luda’s life.

“Merzost feeds on us. I forbid it!” two seconds later *frantic rummaging through notes on the merzost* *reading the Forbidden Knowledge™ without any hesitation* *Immediate Disaster Occurs*

“Mom look what I made!” “Your art is atrocious and you’re no longer my son.”

His history was written by the victors. The tale of the Black Heretic is straight up propaganda by the corrupt monarchy.

Immortal old man caught in a young adult love triangle: I read your letters. Malyen “what the fuck is happening on this here day” Oretsev: ??!?!?!!! who even are you??

Aleksander admitting he needs Alina.

Darklina hand holds.

He did not have to make that episode eight hand-hold on the skiff so sensual but he did it anyways.

The way he hides under his cloak like a turtle when Jesper shoots at him.

He looks so awkward and isolated at the fete surrounded by all of those colorful nobles.

He’s always ready to murder a bitch and honestly I respect that.

Would kill for his gf.

That entire scene where he kisses Alina in the snow in the books like the most awkward motherfucker and then goes “wtf just happened?! Darkling out” before fleeing the scene of the Emotion.

He’s eternally confused by his feelings for Alina and it’s hilarious.

“Looking for trouble, and if I cannot find it I will create it.”

He’s basically just a moth attracted to a fatal light. RIP.

The way he throws open double doors like a man on a mission.

“Follow.”

He’s utterly precious and I would die for him. 🖤

[emeraldoodles]

Long Grindeldore Fics

Here’s a list of Grindeldore Fics that are longer. I tried to pick only fics over 10k or are going to be over 10k in the future.

Zwischen Immer und Nie (Between Always and Never) by sudowoodo

Words: 38563

Albus smiled and tossed the manuscript back on the table. "It's the rest I don't agree with. I simply cannot get behind that American rule."

Gellert laughed loudly. "You wish to marry a Muggle, Albus? There is something you're not telling me, yes?"

Albus tipped his head sideways, growing weary of his friend always missing the point. "Oh, I don't know. I feel some sympathy with those who are not allowed to love freely." Gellert's gaze became fixed on the floor before his eyes roamed up to take in Albus' face. Albus placed his hands on his stomach and sighed gently. "I can only imagine what it's like not having the freedom to walk hand in hand with my love, or marry them, or kiss them in the street."

There was a long pause. Then, seriously, "What are you talking about, Albus?"

"I think you know."

-A summer of 1899. Has  a Victorian feel with themes of homophobia. There’s a cry scene that got to me. I like how Ariana and Alberforth are written.-

Hold on by OUATgirl

Words: 26,631

After their famous duel in 1945, Albus Dumbledore decides to give his old friend another chance. Instead of being held in Nurmengard, Gellert Grindelwald will serve his time under the watchful eyes of the new hero of the wizarding world. But Albus cannot plan everything, and things might be more difficult than he anticipated

-I like how Dumbledore was written. Very cute and slow. Writer is currently working on a sequel-

same apartment, roommate's gone by Anonymous

Words: 10,176

After nearly five decades of imprisonment, Gellert Grindelwald was ready to break free.

-Very funny, but it is serious too. Gellert takes over the mind of Lockhart because there ain’t nothing there.-

Defence Professor Wohl by DarthKrande, NeverBeyondRedemption

Words: 54,421

Gilderoy Lockhart landed himself in St Mungo's after his 'Cornish Pixies' class. Where can a headmaster now find another Defence teacher, one who's knowledgeable beyond doubt, willing to face the curse on the position, and available to start in a few days? In Nurmengard, that's where.

-I really like the beginning of this fic, the ending dragged after chapter 18, but that’s probably because the later chapters focus on Harry.-

rummaging for answers in the pages by kittysorceress

Words: 37,620

It is the summer of 1899 and Albus Dumbledore is ready to venture into the great wizarding unknown. Instead, he finds himself at a dead end, keeping house for his siblings in Godric's Hollow. Bored. Lonely. Wasted.

That is, until he meets his equal.

-A collection of Albus's journal entries from the summer of 1899, detailing his adventures and the innermost workings of his mind, from the mundane to the sublime.-

So Many Chances Unseen by The_Marron

Words : 32,043

Dumbledore wants to die, Severus Snape doesn't want him to, and there is also an ex-Dark Lord trying to get his ex back. Maybe.

-This is broken up into 5 parts that total the word count. Is completed. Albus is an ass and I loved it! Slow burn with old men. Loved the ending! Wish this is how the books ended.-

Thirty-Five Owls by Letterblade

Words:11,284

Being a correspondence between Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore, Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump, etc., and the prisoner Gellert Grindelwald, of some decades in length.

-Gellert and Ablus are penpals? Kinda. It’s sweet, it’s angry and it’s sad. It’s Grindeldore in a nutshell.-

Extreme Incantations by meanwhiletimely

Words: 10,043

Gellert makes a discovery in Albus's bookshelves that results in a revelation.

-Very much smut, but with a plot… no maybe just a point? Dark magic sex during 1899. Bottom Gellert.-

My hands in yours by FrozenBrownie

Words: 21,452

A student of Hogwarts, died in Albus Dumbledore’s arms. What impact this unnecessary death of a child (again) would have on him, on England, on Hogwarts, neither the watching centaurs nor that desperate wizard with his wrists in unconnected metal chains could have foreseen. There was a man, of course, who did, roused in his sleep from the agitation of his husband over a thousand miles away. And thus, a story different from the one that could have come to pass began.

-Albus is shackled and leaves his life to find Gellert.I’m a sucker for fics about magic restriction shackles. Several parts.-

Happily Ever After, Being an Account of a Victorian Fairy Tale in Five Parts by azurish

Words: 10,281

When you’re hunting down the stuff of fairy tales, you shouldn’t be surprised when your own life turns into a fairy tale. In a universe in which Ariana wasn’t killed, Albus and Gellert attempt to track down the Hallows. Gellert knows that Albus is in love with him, and it’s convenient to indulge him – but that’s all there is to it. Right?

-Albus and Gellert go on their journey for the Hallows and have been traveling for a while together. Gellet is a piece of shit and Albus is dumb (stop just putting on unknown jewelry!)-

His Majesty's dragon by FrozenBrownie

Words: 18,369

Used in Open Combat – Dragon Corps in short. Albus’ magical power, ability and control apparently were up to the required standard to be considered for the training program for Aviators. Of course he had had no intention to go into the military whatsoever, but then, Gellert Grindelwald had stumbled into his life. Oh, how they had loved one another, fiercely, fiery, distructive -

-Dragon riders and set in 1759. Is a series. Writer working on 2nd part.-

Let Perpetual Light by tehtarik

Words: 65,726

In the village of Godric's Hollow, the Dumbledore family is falling apart. Kendra Dumbledore is dead under mysterious circumstances, and Albus is the unwilling guardian to his wayward brother Aberforth, and Ariana, their mad sister in the attic. But everything changes with the arrival of Gellert Grindelwald, violently charming juvenile delinquent with an obsession for the fabled Deathly Hallows.

-Ariana is a main character. Summer of 1899.-

Nurmengard by red_camellia

Words: 12,002

After Grindelwald's defeat in 1945 he is put in Nurmengard, unable to move on and haunted by memories of their past Dumbledore begins visiting Grindelwald. "But whenever Dumbledore was there, it was like looking into the Mirror. They both looked at each other and yet, did not see each other."

-A melancholy fic. Albus keeps visiting Nurmengard years after the battle of 1945.-

Shadows Die Twice by Phytine (Taouret)

Words: 68,922

Albus Dumbledore, after having been expelled from Hogwarts, has no choice but to go to Durmstrang in order to finish his education. There, he meets a very charming boy, Gellert Grindelwald and, despite the warnings, decides to befriend him.

What Albus doesn’t know is that Durmstrang is the Devil’s territory. Before he can understand what is happening, he gets caught in a dangerous web. The unconscious prey has fallen.

But there is one thing that Grindelwald hasn’t taken into account: Dumbledore is no man to be taken down easily and, the monster is never far away in a wounded heart.

-Do you want a really fuck up Albus and just as equally fucked up Gellert? This is your fic. Warning, includes rape, abusive relationship, blood fetish, chocking. Not completed.-

Phoenix Tears by PrincessElectra

Words: 46,739

The summer of 1899 ends with less destruction and heartbreak, but love is not a victory march and the darkness is still a seductive temptress. Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald.

“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves. I refuse to accept that there is any future where the world is better place with us apart.”

-Gellert decides to stay with Albus but he can’t quite give up on his old goals Lots of fluff.-

liminality by verivala

Words: 7,981

Instead of killing Albus, Gellert imprisons him. Neither of them have a good time.

Grindelwald Wins AU

-Still being written. Gellert is trying to cage Albus and Albus is trying to escape, if only mentally. It does have darker themes like mind control, magic restrict, twisted love.-

The Trial of Albus Dumbledore by Aurora_xx

Words: 51,613

Albus Dumbledore has to attend a disciplinary hearing for withholding invaluable information about Gellert Grindelwald, deliberate misdirection and performing a blood pact with the person who currently represents the biggest threat to the wizard community.

Unknowingly, he takes Veritaserum before.

-Albus is held trial and forced to speak the whole truth.-

The Glass House by Skurf, TheMoonGuardian (moonchampion)

Words: 24,327

Brightest student of Hogwarts's 1899 graduating class, Albus Dumbledore was about to set off to travel the world. He was going to revolutionize the Wizarding World. Then Ariana Dumbledore killed her mother in a fit of uncontrollable magic, and he was sent back home to be her caretaker.

He was 18, resentful, and utterly miserable. Until Bathilda Bagshot introduced him to her alluring nephew, Gellert Grindelwald.

(The one where Ariana doesn't die, and the boys take her along on their quest to find the Elder Wand.)

-I almost feel bad putting this on the list, because it looks to forever be incomplete. But the bantering between Albus and Gellert is just too enjoyable not to include.-

Never Too Careful by DrSalazar2U

Words: 29,694

"So that, when my mother died, and I was left the responsibility of a damaged sister and a wayward brother, I returned to my village in anger and bitterness. Trapped and wasted, I thought! And then, of course,

he came..." 

Gellert presents a life changing opportunity, but Albus quickly learns that when it comes to eternal glory, one can never be too careful.

-Lot of smut, but there is still a plot. But lots of summer sex. I like how Ariana and Abeforth are written.-

[sunshinesholland]

the one (and all the others) [2] | t.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word count: 5.35k

Warnings: swearing, angst/pining, allusion to abusive past relationships, PTSD mention

Summary: It’s possible Tom would have outgrown the crush, but after one night where feelings were confessed and tears were shed, everything changed. And the worst of it all is that the two of you don’t talk about it, or even acknowledge that it happened. But that’s how it always goes right? It’s good until it’s not.

A/N: This part is a flashback to the night Tom alludes to in part one (see summary above). This is just some exposition to explain their relationship and past. I also just want to say a huge thank you for such a great reaction to my writing so far. It’s something I used to be so passionate about and it feels lovely to get back into it :) Let me know your thoughts, or if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

part one || part two || part three

eighteen months ago

Tom and you are sat on the couch, tangled up in your favorite blanket with Iron Man 2 playing in the background. Zendaya is away on a family trip, so naturally you and Tom are spending the whole weekend watching your favorite movies and eating lots of takeout. It’s not too different from your usual time spent together, but it’s always nice to not feel like you’re bugging her. You’re about tell him the things you’ve learned in your psychology class this week, but instead he’s trying to get you to thumb wrestle him, determined to win. 

“Okay, you know what? You’re the one who wanted to watch this movie! The second one isn’t even my favorite and now you’re thumb wrestling me instead of even watching it,” you say exasperated, though the grin on your face shows you’re enjoying your time together all the same.

“Well, you’re the one that wanted to talk instead of watch so technically this is all your fault. I just want something to do while you tell me about… about, uh,” he pauses, long enough for you to tuck his thumb under yours.

“About arousal theory,” you finish, knowing he won’t remember what you’ve been trying to tell him the past five minutes.

“Oh, now all of a sudden I’m interested, continue,” he grins at you, putting his hand under his chin to (dramatically) show he’s averted his full attention to you.

“If you were paying attention, you would know that’s not at all what that means, Tommy,” you laugh, and face away from him to watch the movie.

“Well, if it was maybe then--” he’s cut off by your phone ringing and vibrating on the coffee table. 

The caller ID shows a picture of your friend George that lights up the screen. Since most people don’t opt for calling, especially in your friend group, you answer quickly. 

“Hello?” You question, nervous something’s wrong with him or another of your friends.

“Y/N!” He excitedly shouts in your ear, so much so that you have to take it away from your ear. At least now you know there’s nothing wrong but your bleeding eardrums.

“I tried calling Tom’s phone but it went straight to voicemail! I’ve got some exciting news and I figured he’s with you though, yeah?” He continues to shout over the noise on his side. 

“I’ll put you on speakerphone,” you reply and do just that, before you place it on the coffee table. 

“Is there a congratulations in order?” Tom asks, a knowing smile on his face. You look at Tom, confused as to what he is talking about.

“Hell yeah there is! She cried and I cried but she said yes! Her family is over right now but the whole gang is coming over for celebratory drinks later, are ya in?” George asks, and you quickly connect the dots.

“Wait, you proposed to Gwen?! And you didn’t tell me? And more importantly, you didn’t ask for my help?” You question in quick succession, because as resident hopeless romantic, you should really be the first one your friends come to for things like this. 

You then turn to Tom who’s chuckling at your excitement, and now you’re yelling at him, “but you knew? And didn’t tell me either?!” 

You chuck a pillow at him, which he dodges before laughing harder at. He ignores you and leans towards the phone to reply to George’s invitation.

“We’ll be there, George. Just text me the details, oh and tell Gwen she’s a div for saying yes,” Tom replies, laughing when George replies with a ‘sure thing!’ before hanging up. He’s so excited he didn’t even register Tom’s comment as a jab, or needing a comeback (which is especially amusing considering how quippy George usually is). 

Gwen and George are a few years older than the rest of your friend group, so you’re a little unsynchronized in your points in life but they’re close friends with you all nonetheless. They have been going out since before anyone in your group has known them. They’re high school sweethearts, best friends, lovers and everything in between. They’ve been through so much in all their time together. They had been told they would never last for the first four years of their relationship. When they ended up on opposite coasts since George left to a startup business and Gwen stayed home to go to culinary school, they were told that one of them would cheat if they didn’t get bored of the distance and each other before then. When they ended up on the same coast in recent years, people assumed Gwen wouldn’t want to stay with him as he wasn’t making much money and had yet to pop the question. Neither Gwen or George paid any mind to any opinions or judgements and were happy taking their time. They were secure with where they were at and whether a shiny ring on her finger and piece of paper happened tomorrow or years in the future, it didn’t matter to either of them when it happened when they knew how they felt.

Now two years later, George’s business has taken off, they live upstate in a nice apartment with their sweet little French bulldog and they’re stable enough to plan the big, romantic wedding they both want. It’s heartwarming every time either of them tells you about their story, or talks about each other at all. Which is why you’re pissed you’re only finding out now. 

“I cannot believe you didn’t even tell me,” you mumble, crossing your arms across your chest with your eyes trained on the TV, “you’re shit at keeping secrets, but this one you decide to not tell me.”

“You’re just jealous that he came to me advice rather than you,” he grins, laying his head in your lap to look up at you.

“Well yeah! You’re not even into all that lovey-dovey, romantic stuff, I am. When you dated that girl last year you couldn’t even think of a gift to give her for Christmas, I had to pick one out. And Harry said you never even said ‘I love you’ to any of your girlfriends growing up and I’ve never heard you say that either.” you pout at the TV, despite not paying attention because it’s just your excuse to not look down at him.

Except that he is into all that lovey-dovey stuff. Or at least he has been since he met you. It’s cheesy, but it’s like you’ve lent him the rose-colored glasses you see the world through and he’s eternally grateful for it. Of course, it helps that he’s in love with you and watching you admire romance and the idea of a fairytale ending is enough to make anyone fall just as hard as he has. But all of that is just too heavy considering you’ve only recently returned to your usual self. Tom can’t be selfish and risk hurting you when you’ve only just begun to heal from your shitty ex-boyfriend. What you need now is your friend and so instead of any declaration of love, he jokes with you. 

“Guess the ladies love me because I love hard enough in other ways,” he says, winking at you.

“I live across the hall, so I know definitely not hard enough, Holland” you retort back, grabbing the last pillow on the couch to throw at his face. 

--

The both of you are in Tom’s car, on the way to Gwen and George’s apartment. The setting sun streams through the passing trees, while Tom’s playlist (the one full of all the songs you like, that he’ll always deny was made specifically for you) plays throughout the car. 

Tom glances at you as you lean your head against the window. You’ve been silent the whole car ride. Not singing along to your favorite song or blabbering about the romance of the engagement, which is unbelievably out of character. He turns down the volume on the stereo so it’s quiet enough to hear the wind whip against the car.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions, sneaking a glance at you before returning his eyes to the road, pulling onto their street.

You don’t say anything for a few minutes, making him think you didn’t hear him. He pulls into a parking spot, thankful for not having to parallel park, and is about to repeat the question when you finally reply.

“Nothing important.” You say and of course Tom doesn’t believe it. Before he can question the honesty of your reply, you’re opening the passenger door and beginning to walk up to their apartment. 

Tom takes the keys out of the ignition and exits the car, quick to catch up to you. It's colder upstate, allowing the snow to form a thick blanket on the ground. It’s fresh and fluffy, effectively dampening all ambient sound outside. While he really wants to ask you again, he can tell you’re not ready to talk yet so he stays silent on the walk up to the apartment building as well as the elevator ride up.

You reach to knock on the door, greeted immediately by George. 

“Hey guys! I’m glad you could make it,” he smiles, practically beaming. They’ve both always known it was in the cards for them to get engaged and of course married, but damn if he wasn’t ecstatic about it finally happening.

“Gwen’s in the living room, on her fourth glass of champagne so naturally she’s already started her own acapella concert in there,” he tells you, looking absolutely smitten just thinking about his future bride, even as a drunk, goofy mess.

“Oh, and Jacob brought some celebratory cigars and since you were such a huge part in helping me plan this, I’d love if you’d join me for one,” George offers Tom.

Tom looks towards you, not wanting to leave when your mood seems off like this. He doesn’t want to flat out say no to George, but you can tell this is his silent way of asking.

“You can go, I’m gonna go see Gwen. I hate the smell of them anyways,” you reassure him with a smile and congratulate George before walking through the apartment to find her.

Gwen is surrounded by people talking to her and congratulating her but as soon as she sees you, she comes running.

“Y/N! Hi! I’m engaged!” She shouts despite the music not being at a loud volume, champagne in one hand and flashing the other with the ring on it at you.

“I know you did, that’s why I came,” you reply with a smile, leaning in to greet your tipsy friend with a hug.

For a while you’re chatting with her and some other friends, not really as energetic as you would be but most people have been here longer than you and are already a little tipsy, so no one notices. You’re in the middle of half-listening to one of Gwen’s co-workers tell all of you about their upcoming trip to somewhere you don’t really care about, when a hand is placed on your back. 

“Do you mind if I steal Y/N away from you for a moment?” He asks and he’s behind you but you can just tell he’s got on a charming smile (but isn’t it always charming to you?)

All of the intoxicated girls grin at his English accent and endearing smile, nodding simultaneously and encouraging him to take you away. You think one may have even said ‘hell, you can take me!’, but regardless, Tom utters a thank you regardless. With his hand in yours, he leads you through the apartment and onto the balcony. The smell of cigar smoke lingers outside and the night air is chilling against your bare arms, having left your jacket inside.

“You brought me away from friends, free booze and the warmth of the indoors to… have me smell some cigar smoke?” You joke, arms hugging yourself in an attempt to keep warm.

“You’re being weird,” he replies before sliding glass door shut, blocking out the music and talking from inside. 

“Excuse me?” You question, furrowing your eyebrows at him, “so you’re gonna force me to be cold, smell cigar smoke, and call me weird? I’m going inside then.”

“Okay I’m sorry for saying you’re being weird,” he says quickly, “But, can you please sit down with me? You can even have my jacket,” he offers, and shrugs it off to hand to you.

You eye the jacket, then the table, before grabbing his coat and sitting down. Bundling yourself up in his warm jacket, the smoke scent lingers on his coat, but it's mixed with his familiar cologne and that’s enough to be comforting. 

“I just, I really love engagements and romance and I realize I haven’t really been excited for two of my closest friends when that’s all tonight is about. It’s just kind of weird behavior on my part and I wanted to talk to you about it,” Tom replies dramatically (the damned acting major).

You look down at the table because you know exactly what he’s doing. Really, it’s hard not to, he knows how stubborn you are and reads you better than anyone, so voices his concern this way. If he says something flat out, you don’t really have a chance to deny it.

“Oh, no wait. That’s you.” He finishes his sentence and pulls out the chair on the opposite side of the table to sit down in.

“Haha, that never gets old.” You reply sarcastically, running your fingers across the glass that covers the top of the table.

He places his hand atop of yours, stilling your movements. You look up to him, unblinking and expressionless. 

“Really, N/N what’s wrong? You were excited earlier and you’re practically the president of the Gwen/George fan club so if you don’t get excited, they’re going to find another leader.” He jokes but stops when you don’t smile.

“It’s nothing,” you reply, biting at your cheek. You’re trying your best to not rain on their parade, and no one notices but Tom. But if he keeps pushing, you’re not going to be able to hold your stupid emotions in. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he reprimands, squeezing your hand, “you know you can tell me anything.”

You look at the closed door and no one else is out here, or paying attention and Tom is your best friend, and maybe if you talk about it, you’ll be able to enjoy the party.

“Sometimes I just worry it will never happen for me,” you start, looking down at your hands, “getting married I mean. Or anything relatively close, like finding someone who loves me long enough to even stay more than a few months…”

“And I know I’m only 23, and they’re 28 so they’re at a different point in their life and they’ve been going out forever but..” you pause, and Tom doesn’t interrupt, just listens. 

“After what happened with him, I’m scared of ever trying again. More than that, I think I just feel like that maybe that’s the best I’ll ever get, or even deserve,” you finish, with tears welling up in your eyes, and you look away, out over the balcony. 

Tom gets up and you close your eyes, letting the tears fall because maybe he thinks you’re selfish for making this night about you somehow and he’s leaving. But instead, he pulls you up out of the chair and brings you to his chest and holds you tightly. You stay like that for a while, until the tears slow to a stop and your breathing has slowed to normal. 

“Why would you ever think that’s the best you’ll get?” he asks and you look up at him, expecting some sort of joke because there’s no way he’s serious. 

“Why wouldn’t I? I must deserve it in some regard after how deeply and unapologetically he hurt me. After all that happened and how long it went on for, it's hard not to think somehow, it’s my fault. I must have done something wrong.” The tears are welling in your eyes again, threatening to fall.

“You cannot seriously believe that,” He softly rubs his hands up and down your arms, “hey, look at me.”

He puts his hand under your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet his. 

“Why would you ever think you deserve the kind of treatment he gave you?” He questions, and then repeats himself when you don’t answer, gingerly as though speaking too loud would scare you away.

“He wasn’t all bad,” you reply meekly, biting the inside of your cheek, “sometimes he--”

Tom cuts you off, “No, there’s no ‘sometimes’ for treating someone you’re supposed to love well, it’s not something you need to earn or something that’s rationed. He was a dick all the time, he just pretended not to be sometimes to manipulate you into staying.” 

Your heart throbs at the blunt veracity of his words. Deep, deep down, under everything that has happened, all of the trauma and damage done, you know it’s true. Internally you’ve just been at a constant tug of war, trying to rationalize all that happened. Was he in love with you at all? Did you do something to make him hurt you like he did? Could you have fixed him? Was he good under it all and just hurting? Did you imagine it all? Were you not good enough in the end, even for him? 

“Why manipulate me into staying if he was the one who ended up leaving in the end?” you question, and his own heart hurts at your words.

Tom’s not sure what to say because he saw your ex leave you and come back so many times. Saw how it slowly chipped away at you each time. When someone does that to you, time and time again, it takes away all your power. You feel helpless and like you can’t go on and the only thing you can do is wait for them to come back. While all of that makes Tom furious, and he wishes you were the one who dumped that asshole because he deserved it, he instead says what will best comfort you.

“Because he’s a blind idiot. But it’s probably the kindest thing he’s done your whole relationship,” he replies, before moving his hand from under your chin to your face, his thumb stroking your cheek, “and I know that sounds insensitive because you hurt for so long and you’re just getting over it, but it’s true.” 

“You’ll find someone who fulfills all of those fairytale expectations, because you shouldn't settle for less and you don’t have to. Someone who is kind, and cares for you, and appreciates everything you are and have to offer. I’m not saying it will take away all the hurt you have felt, but they will love you so deeply that you’ll wonder how you ever thought you deserved any less,” he promises, leaning forward to press his forehead to yours.

He wants to say he’s that someone, confess the way he felt about you since the very beginning but that’s not what you need now. Instead he gives you one last squeeze and brings you down inside, out of the cold. He’s gotten you to at least talk about it and that at least means you won’t hide yourself away, hurting and staying silent in an attempt to not burden anyone. Not that you could ever be a burden, not to Tom.

It hurts a little less when you have someone like Tom by your side. Maybe people look at you two and think he’s suffering from white knight syndrome, like you need to rescued because you’re a damsel in distress. Maybe they think you love him because he’s doing the saving and you love him for such a shallow reason. Except it’s not that, you’re just healing on your own with your best friend being there to support you and love you. It is deeper than a fleeting attraction because someone has helped you. This love is patient, kind and unwavering. As cheesy as it sounds, Tom is someone you fell for slowly, and then all at once. You went to bed one night thinking of him as your best friend and woke up the next with the thought crossing your mind while you were in the shower; ‘I love my best friend so much’ and by the time you were done rinsing away your shampoo, you realized ‘shit, I love him’.

After that it was all you could think of for weeks, noticing all the ways he cared for you. Something as simple as asking if you had gotten enough sleep last night or giving you the cherry from his drinks because you love them so much. The way he locks eyes with you in a boring lecture to make sure you’re awake, the way his hand immediately grabs yours in crowds. Picking up your favorite chips when he goes grocery shopping, just so he always has them in the cupboard for you even though he doesn’t like them. The way he doesn’t just tolerate the things you like, and he doesn’t but gets excited for them simply because he likes seeing you enjoy things. The two of you are the other’s first person to tell both good and bad news alike to. The two of you may fight but neither of you are too embarrassed to admit you’re in the wrong to the other. He makes mundane things like getting gas or going grocery shopping entertaining. While you should be scared of him leaving or being hurt again, you’ve trusted him for so long with matters regarding your heart, it only seems right that he’s the one you trust to hold your it and not harm it. But you don’t want him to think he’s a rebound from the man who’s broken your heart only months ago, because it is so much deeper than that. Your love for him is so much deeper than that. So, you keep quiet, loving him silently.

You both have fallen so deeply into each other, but both too worried about caring for the other to say anything and tonight isn’t any different. The rest of the night is spent celebrating your friends’ engagement: dancing and drinking the night away. The two of you exchange longing glances throughout the entire evening, scared to break the silence regarding your feelings.

—

Tom pulls into your own apartment complex, parking before glancing over at you. Your eyes closed, mouth slightly opened, high heels in your lap while you’re curled up in the passenger seat. Tom unbuckles, reaching his hand over to softly shake your shoulder in an attempt to wake you gently. You continue your slumber, unphased by his disturbance.

“Y/N,” he calls softly. You’re still sleeping soundly, and you look so peaceful that Tom can’t help but reach over and tuck your hair behind your ear, letting his hand linger there.

Out of all the ways you could wake up, this could very well be the creepiest way to, Tom thinks. His thought must have manifested it because your eyes flutter open slowly. While he thinks to withdraw his hand and pretend he wasn’t just thinking about how breathtaking his best friend is (and how in love with her he is), you instead lean into his hand.

“Mm, hello,” you mumble, blinking to adjust to the darkness of the car. The few streetlights lining the parking lot let in just enough light for you to see his lovely face. Tom hasn’t shut off the car yet so heat is still on and his (really, your) playlist continues playing at a low volume.

“We’re home,” he says gently, trying not to be too loud as you shake off the effects of sleep.

The words make you feel warm, hearing him say ‘home’, despite the fact that you’ve definitely referred to the general complex as ‘home’ before. Maybe it’s just the circumstances; him waking you up tenderly from a night spent out together, like you’re lovers and he’s waking you so you can go inside to the bed you both share.

“Oh, okay,” you reply, rubbing at your eyes despite the presence of makeup.

“Want me to carry you up?” He asks, innocently enough. Except that it just furthers that fantasy of being together: being carried up to your home together.

“I mean, because you’re tired and you’ve had a bit to drink everything,” he quickly adds, “and I know they’re the lace up ones and you hate doing them up.” He points to the heels in your lap.

Of course, he’s just being his usual sweet self. He’s heard you complain about these shoes enough and knows the only reason you wear them is because you say the way they look is worth the effort. But he also knows when you’re drunk and the shoes come off, you’re past the point of no return and you’ll only ever get less put together, not more. Because he remembers things like that.

The thudding in your chest quiets a little, “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

He turns off the car and gets out to walk around to your side. He opens the passenger door and grabs your shoes from you and allows you to wrap your hands around his neck. He adjusts his hold on you so he’s carrying you bridal style (great, that helps your romantic mindset) and you bury your face into his chest, telling yourself its only to shield your eyes from the change in lighting. He places you on the floor, since you’re safe from the slushy snow outside now. While he wishes he could have you in his arms the whole way up, there’s no reason for it and it would look strange since you’re just friends.

You walk barefoot beside him to the elevator, both of you silent on your way up. You’ve managed to make it home before 2 AM, but the hall and the whole complex is peacefully silent. When you reach your apartment, you both begin talking at the same time.

“I just wanted to say—”

“I hope you know—”

“Oh sorry, you go.”

“No, it’s okay, you go.”

You both laugh quietly as not to wake any of your neighbors, until Tom gestures for you to go ahead first.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For talking to me about everything tonight. And for not thinking I was absolutely awful to be thinking about myself during Gwen and George’s happy night,” you glance down at your bare feet, shy at tonight’s actions.

“You don’t have to apologize,” and he continues before you can interrupt, “you really don’t. I know you and so I know it wasn’t something you did out of selfishness.”

He reaches for your hand and holds it between you two, while the other reaches up to stroke your cheek, which you lean into again. It’s an intimate gesture he doesn’t usually do, but has managed twice tonight, and it feels like walking the line of friendship and lovers.

“You deserve so much better than anything he ever gave you, or anything anyone has ever given you. You deserve the world and I can’t believe you would ever think otherwise. I will always fight for your fairytale ending, even if you give up or think you don’t deserve it.”

Your heart swells and you want to thank him for all that he’s saying, but he only continues.

“I always want you to feel like you can talk to me, because I will always be here because I, I lo-“ he stops himself and your heart begins thudding again, because maybe he feels the same way you do.

“I-I look out for you. And you look out for me, right?” he finishes, his voice unsteady and you’re beyond disappointed.

You rest your hand atop the hand of his that cups your face.

Despite how nervous you feel, and how clammy your hands are getting and the thumping in your chest, you look into his eyes bravely and ask, “Tom, do you love me?”

“Of course I do, you’re my—”

“No. I am asking you; do you love me?”

When he doesn’t say yes, but he also doesn’t say no you decide to make the first move. You lean in to kiss him, but quickly his hands pull out of yours, pressing gently against your shoulders. Your brain goes into full panic mode: you cannot believe you misread the signals so badly, you cannot believe you tried to kiss your best friend. You turn away from him, fumbling with your keys and shoving the apartment key into the lock, shoving it in, scrambling to escape from this mess.

Tom certainly isn’t drunk since he had to drive home but the emotion bubbling inside of his chest is far more intoxicating than any amount of alcohol could be. He’s grasping at words, trying to try to express what he’s feeling right now but his thoughts are jumbled and clouded.

“Y/N,” he breathes out, walking to follow you into your apartment, desperate to explain himself.

Your turn around, pressing your hand against his chest, leaving it there for a moment, not meeting his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to hold your hands or assure you in any way, so you turn around to enter your apartment. You close the door softly and turn the lock, and maybe that’s scarier than you slamming the door in anger. You press your forehead to the door, eyes closed and attempting not to feel all that you are right now, as deeply as you are. You could not be more thankful for Zendaya’s family trip as she is unable to see the stupid attempt at an advance. She is not here to pretend that what you did wasn’t stupid, or that you didn’t make the biggest mistake.

You’re frustrated and annoyed that you’re hurting like this. You’re frustrated that you were stupid enough to think you’re not a broken mess, that you’re deserving of him, of love. Of course he doesn’t want anything more than friendship from you, he’s seen the train wreck that is your love life. Why would he willingly dive into that mess?  To soften the ache in your heart you tell yourself that it’s better this way, you tell yourself you haven’t felt this way for as long as you have, that it's just the alcohol and the influence of the romance of your friend’s engagement. You pretend that you don’t feign sleep on Saturday mornings to stay in his arms just a little bit longer. Those longing glances at him from across the room at parties or class don’t happen. Even more, the times where he catches you and smiles before joining you, and makes you laugh and nothing else matters doesn’t happen either. All those times he comforts you and says things that straddle that line of friendship, and you just so badly want to say something back or kiss him, those don’t happen either. You’re friends and that’s it. Friendship is safer, it won’t end in your heart broken, and a little bit of Tom in that way is better than all of him romantically. You’ll settle for loving him softly and quietly, like a friend would, and you ignore the way your chest hurts like you’ve just lost the love of your life as you fall asleep that night.

Tom is left outside of your door, stunned at all that has happened. You are hurt, alone and without your best friend and the fact that he is the cause of it is what hurts him the most. He may have had a few drinks (and barely slept that night), he remembers it vividly. He doesn’t for a moment question the authenticity of his memories when you pretend like nothing happened the next day. 

Taglist: @averyfosterthoughts @martinafigoli​

[bang-and-a-blintz]

Through the Darkness

CHAPTER THREE - RUDA DE SÂNGE

Fandom: Dracula (2020)  

Relationship: Dracula/Roxana(OFC)  

Rating: Mature  

Warnings: None  

Word Count: 3,114

There was an awkward pause that suspended the room in time. Roxana’s brain was running in overdrive and her nerves were completely shot, but she managed to convince her lungs to return to function and smiled. “My name is Roxana von Hels and welcome to Sanguine.”

Dracula couldn’t believe his eyes. Another Van Helsing? The resemblance was unmistakable and suddenly the image of Zoe’s corpse lying in the morning sun flashed in his mind. However, this woman before him was very much alive. Her cherubic features and rosy cheeks were a vast difference from the pale, waifish complexions of the nun and scientist. The lack of sunshine in both Eastern Europe and England probably attributed to that, but even so, this Roxana had a certain glow that was unlike the others. 

He barely caught her words as she continued on about the dishes placed in front of him and his dinner companions. Not that he cared, because it wasn’t like he was actually going to eat any of it. Dracula didn’t even spare a glance at the food, for the sight before him was too delicious and he wasn’t going to miss a single moment.

As she spoke, he could still hear her heart hammering away inside her chest and his lips quirked, it seemed that she knew exactly who he was. Very curious. A million questions flooded his mind and he was ravenous for answers. 

After everything that happened with Agatha and Zoe, he shouldn’t be surprised to find another descendent of that incessant lineage. Was he doomed to run in circles with these women again and again for all of eternity? 

“Now, I hope you all enjoy, my colleague and I will be preparing the other courses in the kitchen. Should you need anything, Angeline will be happy to assist. Bon appétit!” Roxana clapped her hands and made to turn when Dracula’s deep voice stopped her short.

“Um, pardon me, Miss von Hels, might I have a word-?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Balaur, but this is New Orleans,” She cut him off smoothly with a smile, not knowing what gave her a sudden bout of courage but she was going to roll with it, “And dinner precedes conversation. Please enjoy.”

A breath of a laugh escaped Dracula as his head tilted slightly, the words all too familiar to him and before he could speak again, she turned and fled. The mayor, his wife, and the attorney all chuckled boisterously, digging into their meals and sloppily clinking their glasses of wine, the dark red splashing all over. 

Smiling to himself, Dracula knew she couldn’t hide from him forever and he didn’t mind practicing a little patience. After all, the pawn had finally crossed the board and turned into another queen; the game was afoot.

“So, who is Agatha?” Ah yes, he might have forgotten about the woman next to him.

——

“Who the fuck was that?” Al exploded as soon as the two were out of hearing range, but Roxana could not be bothered with her friend at the moment. Her fingers dug into her hair and nearly ripped handfuls out as she tugged on the strands helplessly. 

This couldn’t be happening. It shouldn’t. But she had known that someday it might. Her grandmother always warned her that he would find her, but Roxana had been skeptical after hearing those folk tales all her life. It’s not like she actually believed any of the bayou voodoo hoopla! Who in their right mind would?

But she could still hear her grandmother’s voice telling her, “Someday when you’re grown, my sweet baby girl, that dirty rotten heathen will find you just like he found your ancestors. He will come in the night. He will try to steal your blood and your soul, but you must never ever give in, you hear me? That nasty vampire ain’t never going to get my grandbaby, no sir, Dracula better steer clear.”

The tales were one thing, as a child growing up around cajun folklore stories, something as laughable as a vampire was just that. A joke. Albeit a pretty fucked up joke, if Roxana was being perfectly honest with herself. But of course, to her misfortune, those myths became reality when two men in suits from the Harker Foundation came knocking on her door. 

As a precaution, they wanted to inform the youngest Van Helsing after certain recent events that involved her not-so-distant relative. They showed her footage of the night he emerged from the ocean outside of London, they showed her the footage of him at the foundation, they showed her photos of his victims strung across London, and they showed her just one image of what looked like herself sprawled out on a table in a pool of blood and a gaping hole in her neck. The last photo was Zoe Van Helsing, as Roxana came to learn, and she was left for the Foundation to find after Dracula vanished. She was very much dead.

All of a sudden it was very, very real. Vampires existed. Supernatural creatures wandered the world and feasted on humans to survive. The world was abruptly tilted and Roxana did not know what to do with this information. Neurons fired far more rapidly than her brain could keep up and she battled the urge to vomit all over their fancy suits.

They assured her that Dracula had no idea who she was or where she lived, that the whole debriefing was purely preliminary, but if she did come in contact with him then she should contact them immediately. They gave her a business card and walked back out of her life. 

As if they hadn’t ripped the metaphorical rug from right under her feet and then just fucked off leaving her with nothing but a small, disappointing rectangle to fight these newfound demons. 

Hands grabbing her shoulders and giving her an almost violent shake brought her back to Earth and she realized where she was. His eyes were nearly bugging out of his head, “Yo what is your problem right now? You look like someone told you they was bout to set a scorpion loose in your snatch, girl, you freaking me the fuck out!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, shit.” Roxana sighed and went over to the bar to pull the bottle of Jameson off the shelf. “It’s nothing, I’m fine, just let’s forget about it and finish this dinner.”

He gaped in disbelief as she threw back a shot and walked back to the grill like nothing happened, “Nothing?! Yeah, okay, and I’m Pope John Paul. First off, Mr. Dark and Stormy straight eye-fucking you back there should have been illegal. Secondly, I haven’t seen you take a shot of jamo in three years - you know why? Because we almost died that night you took me out to the levee and we chugged a bottle and you broke your foot and you vowed never to drink that devil’s juice ever again. That’s how I know you a lying ass hoe!”

She took a deep breath to calm herself and looked back over to her friend with a sincere expression, “Please, Al, let this one go. I cannot and will not explain to you why I acted that way in there and I really need you to just trust me on this.”

Al looked at her for a moment, gaging the severity in her gaze, he’d never seen her so shaken. He did trust her though and when he finally acquiesced, her shoulders sagged in relief. “Well, alright, fine. If you say so.”

“Thank you.” Roxana meant it. The less Al knew about the vampire sitting out in their dining room, the better.

——

Dracula’s gaze slid over to the beauty seated to his left, it lingered on the curve of her neck and he felt slightly disappointed to hear the lack of a pulse. He had easily changed the subject from his misstep of calling their host by the wrong name, to a discussion of the future, specifically their future. 

He had met Keres at a gala months before, she had lured him with her beauty and they both were pleasantly surprised when they each tried to take bites out of each other’s neck. This was a first for Dracula as he had never met anyone else like him; sure he had plenty of failed creations under his belt and he knew of all the unresting souls trapped in their tombs, but never had he seen someone who wasn’t…feral. But apparently, it was a thing. Who would’ve thought?

She was around two centuries old from a small village in Italy, Keres had told him, after years passed by and she had not aged, the townsfolk took to action and chased her away with the classic torches and pitchforks method. Eventually her travels took her to the new world, starting in Massachusetts and making her way down South after the witch hunts started getting a bit too tense for her tastes. Like Dracula, she found a certain comfort, so to speak, in the city of New Orleans…it was a circus and she loved being the star of the freak show. 

As it turned out, the supernatural scene in The Big Easy was actually quite lively and she spent years thoroughly integrating herself into the culture. Time passed on and she started an organization to maintain a sort of order amongst the undead, lest they drink their fill and wipe out the entire population. Rules were set in place and those who failed to comply faced the consequences. 

This was the topic of discussion for the evening. The mayor had a tedious relationship with the supernatural order and so he orchestrated this dinner party as a truce between kinds. He was trying desperately to maintain control of his city, but unfortunately he was unaware that it was no longer his. Keres just allowed him to maintain the illusion.

Dracula took a sip from the glass of blood before him. it was an appreciated effort from Keres to provide them both with a tangy forty-five businessman; quite the fitting vintage for this particular meeting. The attorney was discussing the necessities of making sure the bodies stay down, which was the vampires’ responsibility, and as a rebuttal, Dracula pointed out the nearness of the Mississippi River. 

“Now, Mr. Balaur,” The man in the periwinkle suit smiled like a sleaze, “We can’t have these…animated bodies start floating up in the gulf or elsewhere. This is the twenty-first century and everyone’s been tagged up and geo-located in some way. They can be tracked back here very easily.”

The Count gave a resigned sigh and waved a hand absently, “Fine, fine, the river will be for emergencies only.”

The lawyer sputtered on his drink and Mayor Kendell laughed nervously, not completely sure if Dracula was joking or not. “Good fun, yes, good fun. Now we can agree that the locals are strictly off-limits -”

Dracula couldn’t help his incredulous laugh and Keres shot him a dark look in warning, but he waved her off as well, “What would you have us do, hm? Kindly check their identification before we sink our teeth in, I mean honestly, who has the time for that? It’s ridiculous.”

The mayor’s wife surprisingly nodded along with him and when her husband side-eyed her, she shrugged, “He’s got a point, you know.”

Keres swiftly cut in, her tone left no room for arguments and her eyes leveled the nervous humans. “What we will agree on, Mayor Kendell, is the policy of consent-only or the pre-deposited blood from donors. I have already procured documents of concurrence from the hospitals after a few generous donations from my organization.  Any creature of the supernatural shall have to accept these terms to live in our city, if not they will face exile or the stake. Do we have an accord?” 

The mayor’s face turned almost purple as he struggled to formulate any sort of counterargument. Clearly, he had never been spoken to like that, much less by a woman. His wife sat back with a small smirk on her face and took another generous swig of her gin and tonic. Clearly, she was loving this, and strangely not at all perturbed by the conversation’s subject.

“If I may,” Dracula interjected, dragging his nail around the rim of his glass, “It has been brought to my attention that various members of your esteemed society, Mr. Mayor, have proclivities towards the, oh shall we say, younger generation.”

The tension in the room thickened. Keres’ perfectly-plucked brow rose slightly as this was news to her.

He put his hands up defensively, “Now, I could care less what dirty deeds you aristocrats get yourselves into, and trust me, I have quite the record on just how depraved you people really are. However,” The sound of his clap made the men jump in their seats, “I think that we can come to an agreement here. It would be such a shame if this information fell into the wrong hands, don’t you think?”

At that moment, the kitchen doors swung open again to reveal Roxana and Al carting in the rest of the meal. Dessert could not have come sooner, Dracula mused and downed the rest of his glass, his eyes once more trained only on her.

———

When they walked back in, Roxana was unsurprised to see the dish in front of Dracula hadn’t been touched, but what made her weary was the fact that the same could be said for the woman to his left. Well, that and their matching red-tinged glasses clearly did not have the same consistency as wine. 

“How is everything so far?” 

It was quiet for a beat until the mayor’s wife elbowed him in the side sharply and he coughed, “Very tasty, Miss von Hels, as always. Yes, yes, your filet was superb!”

She didn’t serve them a filet but she figured he was a little preoccupied with dining with vampires to pay attention anyways. Surely he knew what they were.

Still, Roxana smiled brightly, “I’m so pleased to hear, sir. For dessert we have our buttered, brown-sugar bananas flambeaux with a dark rum and a cinnamon vanilla ice cream to top it all off.”

Angeline swiftly gathered the dirty dishes, blushing when Dracula sent a wink her way and disappeared just as quickly back to the kitchens. A timid little thing, he thought detachedly, like a fawn running scared in the woods.

With a whoosh, flames erupted from the pan in Roxana’s hand and took his attention once again. Her brow furrowed, pinching her face in stern concentration as she skillfully flicked her wrist and the contents suspended in the air before snapping back into the pan. The fire rose higher for a moment longer and reflected back at her from the darkness of his eyes, before dissipating into smoke. 

The mayor’s wife ooh’d and aah’d and clapped happily at the performance; four empty glasses were spread out in front of her on the table as a testimony for her belligerence. “Encore!”

Al dished everything out and returned the cart to the back, leaving Roxana so he could begin breaking down the kitchen. No one, except the drunk woman, touched their dessert. Instead, the mayor cleared his throat and looked over to Dracula, “I will agree to your terms, on the condition that we must have a summit dinner with the rest of the order. To break bread, so to speak.”

Roxana’s brow scrunched up again, but this time in confusion. What on Earth were they talking about? The elder vampire smiled almost whimsically at her disorientation. 

Keres noticed how Dracula could not take his eyes off the chef, he seemed to not be able to focus on anything else in the room when she was present, and it was quite intriguing. “That sounds wonderful, Mr. Kendell, might I suggest using the same venue. This is, after all, such a quaint establishment.”

“Wait. What, now?”

“And I would like Mr. Balaur to oversee this event.” Keres nodded decisively and drank the last sip left in her glass, giving Roxana look that said I dare you to oppose.

Dracula grinned devilishly, “I would be delighted!”

“It is settled then. Mr. Kendell, if you’d like to coordinate your guest list with him, please do so when you are ready, and we shall reconvene at a later date. If that is all, I will take my leave.” Her no-nonsense voice left absolutely zero room for discussion and Keres elegantly strutted out of the building. The mayor looked green. He was next to shuffle out the door with his stumbling and giggling wife in tow. The attorney downed the rest of his whiskey and avoided his eyes, making for the exit as well.

“And then there were two.” Dracula’s tone was playful and his eyes were alight with mischief as he poured another glass for himself and licked his lips. He relished the way her heartbeat picked right back up again.

“Look,” Roxana began, giving him a stern look that just tickled him, “I know there are things we need to talk about…but first I need to send my employees home and clean up. I refuse to let them be caught up in whatever this is and I will not have a dirty kitchen.”

In the blink of an eye, he was right up in her personal space and had his hand around her neck. The man towered over her and tilted her head up to look directly into his dark eyes, “And why should I wait?”

He felt her gulp underneath his palm and his teeth habitually elongated, her heart thundered viciously within her chest as she tried desperately to control her breathing.

“Because you’re just as curious as I am, Count Dracula,” she placed her hand on his wrist, “And if you wanted to kill me, you would have done so already.”

 “Perhaps I enjoy playing with my food first.” There was a beat and then he sighed, releasing her. She took a step back immediately and he bent his head towards her, not letting her put too much distance between them. “Don’t take too long, Roxana, we have much to discuss.”

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[heartbeatan]

No Expectations (Chapter 6)

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Chapter 6

You were a bit of a mess the next day. You didn’t get much sleep that night, and you cried on and off throughout the day. It was difficult not to reach for the phone and call Taehyung. But you didn’t. You made your decision. You also committed to yourself that you would get one day – one day to mourn Taehyung’s departure, then after that you weren’t allowed to feel sorry for yourself. What was the point of this whole exercise if you were just going to wallow in self pity the whole time? You had to pull up your bootstraps so that you hadn’t sent Taehyung away for nothing. You wanted to love him, and the sooner you could get along without him, the sooner you could figure that out and hopefully have him back.

Unlike the movies, there wasn’t a big “ah ha!” moment when you realized you were in love with Taehyung. It was like a puzzle coming together. Each piece made the picture clearer.

The first piece of the puzzle came when you were flipping through the photos Amy had posted online. You came across one of you, Taehyung and Woori. Woori was in Taehyung’s arms, his fist in his mouth the way he did when he was too excited. Taehyung was looking adoringly at him laughing, and you were smiling along with them. It was such a perfect image that you thought about where on the walls you could hang the picture to represent your happy family.

The second piece came when you were visiting Suzy’s house for a play date. She had a toddler and an infant not much older than Woori, so the arrangement��worked out perfectly.

“You talk about him a lot,” Suzy finally said, after you had told her yet another story about Taehyung.

“Do I?” you asked.

“Yes.”

“Well he’s pretty much been the only person heavily in my life for months. I don’t know if I have a story that doesn’t involve him. That doesn’t mean I love him that way necessarily.”

“No,” she agreed. “But let me ask you something. What if I told you that you would never see him again, how would that make you feel?”

Another piece of the puzzle came one night when you dropped Woori off at his grandparents and you took yourself out to the movies. Along the route you saw a bowling alley. Not the one you and Taehyung frequented, but you could see through the big, front windows the patrons inside. There was a young couple there clearly on a date of their own. They were canoodling in between turns and it made you wish Taehyung was there with you.

That’s how it happened. Piece by piece the world around you pointed towards Taehyung. Inside jokes you had; experiences you shared; feeling you had felt; until finally one day the words just slipped from you – in a precarious circumstance.

“I love you,” you said out loud. You had been hanging out with your vibrator once again. As did every other time, you tried to imagine a faceless man making love to you, but, like every other time, the faceless man soon became Taehyung. Just as you were about to climax, you looked into his eyes staring deeply into yours and spoke the words.

When you were done and cleaned up, you reached for your phone. When you unlocked the screen, you found a new voicemail waiting for you. You listened to the message.

I’m sorry to call. Can we meet up?

That was the moment you decided it was time. You picked up the phone and pressed dial.

You were early to the coffee shop. You wanted to be so you could mentally review everything that you wanted to say before he got there. You ordered a second cup expecting that he wouldn’t be on time, but, to your surprise, Jae showed up five minutes early. He noticed you immediately and shuffled uncomfortably before he made his way over.

“Hi,” he said as he took the seat in front of you. You nodded back.

“You, uh, going somewhere?” he asked, noticing the bag sitting in the chair next to you.

“Jindo. I catch a plane right after this.”

“Where is Woori staying?”

“That’s not your concern.” He went silent and you defensively crossed your arms in front of you and stared him down. “Is there anything you want to say to me?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

He winced. “I’m sorry about the wedding.”

“What about the wedding are you sorry about?”

“Everything. I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

“No. You shouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry.” He tried to avoid your intense gaze. You took a deep breath before you responded.

“But, Jae, I can handle being called names by some drunk idiot. I can handle being embarrassed in front of a room full of people. What I cannot tolerate is you addressing my son that way.”

“He’s my son to-”

“No. He’s not,” you interrupted.

“I made a mistake, Y/N. I shouldn’t have walked out on you two like tha-”

“But you did.” Your tone was firm.

He sighed.

“You even put it on paper,” you reminded him.

“I could have that rescinded in court; you know.”

“Don’t threaten me, Jae. This isn’t going to go very well if you do.”

He was quiet for a minute but then nodded.

“What is it exactly that you want, Jae? Because despite me not wanting it, you and I are going to run into each other. I can’t have you popping in and out deciding if he is or isn’t your son. So, we need to make things clear, today.”

“I want to come home.”

“No. Out of the question.”

“Then I want to at least have a relationship with him.”

“What kind of relationship?”

“I don’t know… when he’s older, take him out, throw around a baseball. You know… the things dads do with their kids.”

“No, Jae…” you let out a sigh. It was clear he didn’t get it. “That’s not what dad’s do. Dad’s stay up all night sometimes cleaning up the vomit and shit. Dad’s help with the homework, and they take them to practice and they cut the lawn that they throw the baseball around on. Their heart aches when they need to discipline their child, but they do it because they know being the bad guy for a minute is in their kids’ best interest. They feel the guilt when they’ve let them down. Dad’s teach their children how to respect others – and they don’t call their mother a whore. Dad’s don’t just show up for the fun stuff, Jae. They show up for the hard stuff too. Do you have any idea what it takes to be a parent?”

Jae sat quietly across from you. You could see how anxious he was becoming at even the thought of doing all those things.

“That’s what I thought,” you concluded.

You both sat in silence for what felt like eternity until Jae cleared his throat.

“I’d still like to see him sometimes,” he said quietly.

“Not right now, Jae. Not like this. But, in the future, if you shape up and prove to me that I can trust you, then we can talk.”

He nodded.

“But, Jae, you will never be Dad. Do you understand?”

He nodded again.

“At best, you could be Uncle Jae, but that’s all. You will not tell him you’re his dad. When he is old enough, his father and I will decide when he is ready, and we will tell him. Not you.”

“I understand.”

“Good.”

After another uncomfortable pause, Jae began to move, “I guess, I’ll get going, then.”

“Wait… I have one other thing I’d like to say,” you took a sip of your drink before you continued. “You were right. I did want the white-picket fence. I still do, and there is nothing wrong with that. I’m not ashamed for wanting that. But you were wrong when you said I wanted a lap dog. I didn’t want a dog, Jae, I wanted a partner. I wanted someone to love who loved me and wanted to build a home together. You, however, wanted a mother. Someone who paid the bills, fed you and cleaned up after you. I can’t promise you won’t find someone who will do that for you, but I can promise it’s going to be difficult. Woori isn’t going to grow up believing that’s how life goes for men and women.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized.

Ten minutes later, you found yourself in the backseat of a cab enroute to the airport. The meeting with Jae, as expected, ended awkwardly, but you felt��a sense of closure. You now had one major reconciliation completed – now, it was time to reconcile with Taehyung.