#anyways the plot's fine whatever but it really seems like the need for decent enough mario bros writing really took the backseat on this on

[illdothehotvoice]

Oh also if you're curious I am so sorry MTMB fans but so far where MTMB was tolerable I really do not like ARC so far

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

how to fake date your best friend | jake sim

✰ summary: the rules were simple -

pretend to be the boyfriend of you, his best friend who wants the attention of their crush, for a week and a week only

no kissing (bc gross cooties amirite) allowed, unless needed in times of desperate measure 

and no matter what, absolutely, most definitely, do not fall in love. 

simple, right?

well apparently not. because news flash––jake's already broken one of the rules. 

and to give you a hint, it's neither rule 1 or 2.

✰ pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. members of enha!] 

✰ genre: fluff, comedy | fakingdating!au, highschool!au, bestfriend!au, friends to lovers

✰ warnings: cursing, high-schoolers doing dumb highschool things, underage drinking (pls don’t actually do any of this irl), jake being a certified simp, it’s LONG (i’m so sorry), cheesy kithes bc im a sucker for kithes ( ˘ ³˘)♥

✰ wc: a whopping 9.5k

✰ a/n: it’s finally finished :’)))))) it ended up being much longer than i wanted but i had so much fun writing the characters that i got carried away lolol anywaysss i hope you guys enjoy it,,,i got a little unmotivated during the process bc i didn’t know if it was good or not but here it is heh (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ 

Tuesday, December 8th

Jake Sim lives a simple life. 

He likes to think he leads the normal, stereotypical life of a teenage boy. Has decent grades, plays soccer after school, skateboards around the neighborhood, has a best friend who he’s desperately in love with, and has a stable group of friends. 

Okay, maybe not so simple, because this boy would physically launch himself to the moon and drill at its surface to collect moon dust for you if you asked him to––despite his deadly fear of combusting in outer space. 

But that fear doesn’t even compare to his worst one yet: not having you in his life. 

And so, he decided to just repress any and all feelings he’s had for you ever since he discovered them in middle school, when he realized he hated seeing you go to the eighth grade dance with a date––that wasn’t him. 

He decided that he wasn’t going to risk losing a life-long friendship over some dumb, teenage boy feelings. 

They were probably powered by his testosterone anyways. Yeah, that’s totally it.

He’s totally not in love with you. 

So yes, he lives a pretty normal life. Every day is the same as the last, and tomorrow will be the same as today. But he likes it like that��–he doesn’t want anything to change. 

Especially not now, when he finds himself content with every aspect of his life (okay maybe except for his history grade, god, does he hate history). 

So, it catches him off guard when you arrive at the group’s usual lunch table, located outside in your school’s courtyard, looking as excited as ever. 

Jake’s the only one at the table so far. The remaining usually showed up late––Heeseung spends his first half of lunch tutoring freshmen for community service hours (but the poor boy has no idea what he’s doing), Sunghoon is probably stuck in line in the cafeteria again (he always forgets to pack his own lunch), and Jay is...well actually, no one ever knows where Jay comes from. He’s a special one. 

It catches Jake even more off guard when you skip over any greeting a normal person would give, and start speaking at one hundred words per second. 

And that catches us up to the present.

“Y-You want me to what?” Jake’s stuttering as you stare at him with your hopeful eyes from across the lunch table. 

Despite the expression planted on your face, which screams your excitement for your “brilliant, amazing, genius, Einstein-could-never” idea (or whatever other words you used to describe it––Jake can’t exactly recall the specific terms you used, they all came out of your mouth too fast), you don’t respond to his question of bafflement. You continue to stare at him, awaiting his response. Jake could compare the look on your face right now to a puppy looking up at its owner, eagerly waiting for a treat. You know, tongue out and all. 

He swallows the lump that’s lodged in this throat (is that the sandwich he’s having, or his nerves?) and continues to give you his look of confusion laced with a nervous smile because surely, you’re joking. 

You grab what’s left of your sandwich from his hands and take your own bite. Somewhere in between you arriving at the table and now, Jake’s managed to steal the sandwich you brought today. You did make the best chicken sandwiches, in his defense. 

“Well? It’s only for the week! And I promise you, after one week, if nothing happens––if he doesn’t make a move or anything––I’ll move on from him like you’ve been telling me to.” Your words are muffled from you savoring your sandwich, or what’s left of it anyways. (Mental note to self: don’t share your lunch with Jake ever again.) 

When Jake still doesn’t respond (you’ve truly gotten this poor boy paralyzed), you find it as a sign to continue. 

“I think it’s the perfect plan. Plus, if it doesn’t work out, it’ll be like the universe is telling me to finally move on, right?” 

Wrong. 

Jake has been encouraging you to move on from your crush because well, if we’re being honest here, he selfishly wants you to himself. Even if it wasn’t romantically.

Preferably, he would kill to get to be the one who holds your hand in the hall, call you cheesy pet names, post disgustingly cute couple pics for the ‘gram––but for the sake of potentially ruining his relationship with you, he’ll just have to settle with the role of being your best friend. 

(And he’s totally fine with that! Totally. Yup.) 

But he didn’t think that you moving on would only be a mere possible outcome (that may not even happen!) from whatever this stunt is you wanna pull. 

Said stunt: Pretend to date one another and hope it catches the eye of a certain someone you have your eye on: Park Sunghoon. 

Ah yes, Park Sunghoon. The previously mentioned one who’s probably still in line waiting to get his lunch as we speak. 

Park Sunghoon, the tall, kind, intelligent, charming young boy that everyone knows. And if anyone didn’t know him, they most definitely knew of him. He wasn’t hard to miss in the halls; everything about him just radiates perfection. 

If you plucked a random high-schooler from the halls of this school and interviewed them on the Park Sunghoon, they’d say you’d be lucky enough if the quiet boy so much as sparked a conversation with you, even if it was about what last night’s chemistry homework was. 

Well if that were true, then you and the rest of the boys would be considered lottery winners. 

How that happened, how the four of you dysfunctional beings earned his friendship, the world may never know. However, Jake is fully convinced that this was the universe’s way of playing a cruel joke on him. 

For as long as Jake could remember, it’s always been just the two of you. You and Jake. Jake and you. (With the exception of Heeseung and Jay, of course, who came along in middle school) 

In fact, your earliest memory of Jake was when he peed his pants in the kindergarten during nap time. You would know, you had the privilege of sharing a sleeping mat with him that one fateful day and in result...let’s just say the smell didn’t wear off from your clothes until a week later. Five-year-old you didn’t forgive five-year-old Jake for the longest time. 

And since then, you’ve been attached by the hip. And Jake liked it like that. Jake didn’t need anyone else in his life (with the exception of Leila) if he had you. He had found his home within you, and he didn’t plan on sharing his space anytime soon. 

Nevertheless, the universe had a completely different idea for the two of you. 

Sunghoon came into the picture last year, towards the end of the school year. Despite being the new kid, he found his way into your cherished friend group and naturally, the five of you grew as close as friends could be. 

That was the problem. Jake wanted to hate Sunghoon, to despise him for being the one that you had heart eyes for, but he couldn’t. 

Not only was Sunghoon one of Jake’s closest friends, but he didn’t want to ruin the dynamic of the friend group. After you, the three chaotic boys were the next most important people in Jake’s life. 

And so, we have the typical love triangle plot that every coming-of-age movie follows. Of course, this is all unbeknownst to you––you may be intelligent and a people-person, but oh boy can you not see the heart eyes your very own best friend has for you. 

“It’ll be easier than you think, really! Look, we can even set boundaries or rules or whatever,” you propose, as if you’re trying to get him to sign a contract. 

Rules to a fake relationship? We’re not living in a Netflix romcom, are we? 

“Okay rule number 1: it’ll only be for a week and a week only, rule number 2: we don’t have to do anything too couple-ly like...” you pause to wonder for a second. 

“Like PDA or anything! You know, unless we really need to convince him,” you casually add. When he responds with radio silence and stares at you with absolute concern painted all over his face, you cough. “Jake, I’m joking.” 

Right. Of course. Obviously. 

“And of course, just try not to fall in love with me, it’ll be hard, I know,” you send a playful wink his way. 

Too late. Turns out it’s not that hard. Jake would know. 

Jake continues to stare at you in hesitation. Yeah, you’ve had your fair share of crazy ideas (that Jake always find himself agreeing to––the poor boy just can’t seem to say no to you), but fake dating you?

Jake is sure he wouldn’t be able to pull it off without slowly destroying himself. He’d just have to say no, he’s sure you can find someone else to do it for you. 

Yes, that’s it, just say no. 

Jake has to keep some of his pride in tact. 

Jake does not say no. 

He doesn’t know what went wrong. His mind said one thing, but his words said another. 

To be fair, Jake’s actions have always been influenced by his heart, not his brain, anyways. And when it comes to you, you bet it’ll be coming from his heart. 

So here he was now, under the stare of three equally shocked and confused guys across from you and him at the lunch table, your fingers intertwined with his.

Just a few seconds ago, you had spotted the rest of the lunch bunch approaching the table, and you quickly grabbed Jake’s hand and scooted in closer to him.  

Now here you were, explaining to your friends of your sudden relationship.  

Jake is too zoned out to even physically pick up your explanation. Something along the lines of "we’ve been dating for a while but didn’t want to tell you guys yet." From the feeling of your hand clutched tightly into his and your body right up next to him, his mind was short-circuiting. 

How is he supposed to last an entire week of this if he couldn't handle innocent hand holding? Hand holding? God, what are we, back in the fifth grade?  

Two minutes into this scheme and Jake's mind has already downgraded itself to a fifth grader's.  

Jake mentally scolds himself for giving in, this was not a good idea. 

It takes Jake approximately 12 hours to conclude that this stunt of yours may, actually, be a good idea. He knows this because approximately 12 hours after the events surrounding lunch, he receives a text from you: 

y/n [12:03AM]: thanks again for doing this for me jake

y/n [12:03AM]: ur actually the best

y/n [12:04AM]: ew ok that was cheesy but really i owe u a big one <333

Following your thread of texts is a really close up photo of you widely smiling into the camera. A smile so big, Jake’s convinced your face was probably in pain after taking that picture. 

Anyone else might’ve thought the photo looked borderline insane but because Jake’s Jake, aka a simpᵗᵐ for you, he comes to the conclusion that it’s singlehandedly the cutest thing he’s ever seen in the entire world. 

After quickly saving the selfie into his phone, Jake tells himself that maybe this won’t be a bad thing after all. I mean, anything that makes you smile like that meant it has to be a good idea, right? 

Spoken like a true simp. 

Plus, dating you––fake dating you––is pretty much the same as it was before. He already spends most of his days with you to begin with. Now, it’s just with added displays of affection. For show, obviously. Obviously. 

And look, if Jake will never get to actually be with you, then he’ll take what he can get. And if that meant fake dating you, well, he reasons that it’s better than nothing at all. 

Wednesday, December 9th 

Jake’s playing with the rings on your right hand and you’re in the middle of dramatically telling the lunch table about the infuriating Karen you had to deal with at work the other day when Jay comes up with a grin you all know a little too well. 

“Okay that grin means one of two things: you finally grew the balls to ask out that poor girl you’ve been teasing all year or you have something planned that we won’t like,” you interrupt your story when you catch Jay’s sly expression, evoking a chuckle from Jake, who’s now found a new distraction with the bracelets perches on your wrist. 

“Excuse you, I’ll have you know that I did ask her out. It just so happens that she’s currently ‘in between boyfriends’ whatever that means. Ouch, by the way,” Jay feigns hurt from your comment by clutching the area above his heart through his shirt. Ever the drama queen. “But yes, I do have something planned. And no, it’s not a bad idea.” 

Jay squeezes his way in between Sunghoon and Heeseung from across you and begins to pull out his own lunch. Everyone’s eyes follow him as he settles in because as bad as his unknown idea may be, you’re all still curious on what this boy has to say. 

“Well are you going to elaborate or...” Heeseung speaks up for everyone after you all mentally debate one another through darting eyes on who’s going to have to bite Jay’s silent bait.

Jay then forcefully sets both hands on his table, which elicits a little jump from you as you go for a bite of your sandwich. Adorable, Jake tells himself. 

“My parents are out of town this weekend. We all know what that means...” 

Yes. We do know what that means. The four of you have seen this scenario play out many times, a little too many times for your own good. 

This meant one of Jay’s infamous house parties that he always throws whenever his parents go out of town. And because his parents are hot-shot CEOs of an important company whose name you don’t remember (it’s nothing personal, your brain can only handle so much information and this physics exam you were studying for took up 90% of your brain capacity at the moment), they’re out of town often. 

And along with Jay’s parties comes chaos. Lots of it. And that’s because...well, it’s safe to say that despite the many school-wide presentations the police officers of your school have held in the auditorium on why you shouldn’t drink underage, Jay’s parents’ liquor cabinet always seems to find itself missing many a few bottles after each party. But we don’t talk about that. Shush. 

Almost simultaneously, everyone at the table lets out a groan, much to Jay’s disappointment. 

“C’mon guys! It’s been a while since anything’s fun happened to this school, think of all the sad students in that building right now,” he extends a finger whole-ass arm and points at your school, “who are in dire need of fun and a little...” he punctuates his sentence with the hand motion of chugging down a drink, followed with a gulping sound elicited from his tongue clicking. 

You roll your eyes along with everyone else. Don’t be like Jay, kids. Listen to those police officers. 

“Jay, it’s midterm season! I have an exam on Monday and I definitely do not want to spend the nights before wasted,” you give him an apologetic look. As crazy as Jay is, you do feel bad nonetheless. The boy just wants to have fun. 

Your response is followed up with similar comments from around the table. 

“I’m helping y/n study” 

“I have an important skating performance on Sunday” 

“Uh...my hamster died?” (ok Heeseung panicked, don’t blame the guy)

Ignoring that last excuse of an excuse, Jay continues his debate nonetheless. “Just come for the sake of it! No one’s saying you have to get wasted. Pleaseeee for me?” 

Jay throws these parties so often, you’re not sure why he’s so set on making sure you’re all going to be there. Well, I guess who wouldn’t want their closest friends to be at their own party? 

That and, Jay needs to make sure his friends are there to stop him from doing anything stupid. We all know this boy has had enough embarrassing moments to last him a lifetime. 

Everyone at the table gives each other the same hesitant look. Heeseung is the first to give in, “Oh fuck it. Sure, count me in.” 

Jay’s fist pumping the air before turning to Sunghoon with the most hopeful eyes. 

Sunghoon simply sighs in return. “Alright okay, I’ll bite. But if you vomit on my shoes again, I’m out the door.” Jay’s finger is automatically drawing a cross over his heart as a promise to not ruin Sunghoon’s Nikes again. 

He then looks to you with puppy eyes. 

You, who's already staring back at Jay with a stoic look in your eyes, are stubborn and (unlike the previous weaklings) are not as easy to convince. And somehow, this began an unannounced staring contest between the two of you, a contest to see who would budge first. This isn't an uncommon occurrence between you and Jay, but the rest of the boys are still on the edges of their seats watching this duel.

Jake casually wraps an arm around your shoulder and you’re brought in close, but still undeterred from your death-stare match with the boy across from you. 

If it’s not obvious enough, Jake’s really gotten into his role of being your boyfriend, despite it only being 24 hours since he last froze at your touch. Character development, you’ll give him that. 

You almost forget he’s faking it for a quick second. And for an even quicker second, you imagine he wasn’t faking it. And you swear you feel butterflies in your stomach at that thought. 

Weird. 

You mentally shake the thought out of your head. Priorities first, aka, beating Jay in this staring contest. 

“Fuck,” you stutter when you finally blink, admitting defeat to a grinning Jay. “Okay, okay, I’ll THINK about it. I’ll let you know.” 

Not exactly the answer Jay was looking for, but he’ll take it. Better than a no. 

He turns to Jake next, knowing there’s no way Jake will turn down a party. Just like Jay, the boy loves himself a good party. 

But–

But because Jake would take your physics exam this Monday for you if you asked, because Jake would bungee jump in the Grand Canyon without a safety net below him if you asked, because Jake would fake date you to make your crush jealous for you if you asked, he doesn’t hesitate in his answer this time around: “Same as y/n, I’ll let you know.” 

Jay looks at Jake. Then back at you, who he’s still clinging onto like a koala to a tree. Then back at Jake. “You two are gross. Admittedly cute. But gross.” 

You look up at the boy next to you to see him already grinning at you. 

For the first time today, you find yourself agreeing with Jay. 

Admittedly cute. 

Thursday, December 10th 

You are having a bad day. 

You’re having the mother of bad days. 

Not only is it midterm season, but you still have all your regular weekly assignments to finish before Friday hits. So as a natural-born procrastinator does, you stayed up all last night trying to get a good amount of work done because what’s better than cramming all your work the night before it’s due? Doing it two nights before it’s due. 

Well apparently it wasn’t such a good idea. Because now, here you were, frantically throwing on whatever articles of clothing you find nearest to you because you slept through all your alarms. 

You’re lucky enough to make it through your school’s doors right as the second bell rings, even if you did look like you just walked straight out of a zombie apocalypse. 

You’re not so lucky when you find out your first class of the day, calculus, had a pop quiz. A pop quiz on the only unit you just happened to know absolutely nothing about. 

To top things off, you forgot to pack your lunch during this morning’s frenzy, meaning you’re automatically stuck sharing with Jake.

And because his mother started making him pack his own food out of a lesson of responsibility (she said something along the lines of: “Jake, you’re about to be in college and you don’t know how to pack a decent meal”), he only has a plain PB&J sandwich and a pack of Scooby-Doo gummies in his bag today (because newsflash, he still doesn’t know how to pack a decent meal). 

Not that you could care less at the moment, you were too preoccupied with catching up on your assignments to even eat. And if any of the boys noticed your zombie-like state during lunch, they did a good job of not mentioning it. They knew better than to bother an irritated y/n. 

Somehow, you make it through the entire school day and your after-school meeting for environmental club (save the trees!) in one piece. As you finally walk out of the school building, you exhale, automatically feeling lighter. At least the hard part of your day was done. 

Now you just had to wait for Jake to finish soccer practice, which usually ended around the same time as your club, and he can drive you home, where you can continue being irritated with your day in the privacy of your own space. 

You wait on the steps of the school’s entrance, waiting for a smiley Jake to come around the corner as he usually does at 5:30pm every Thursdays. 

Yes, a smiling Jake is exactly what you needed to make your day ten times better, you conclude. 

As if on cue, you hear a ding from your phone. 

Jake [5:30PM]: ugh coach is extending practice for “team bonding” 

Jake [5:30PM]: idek what team bonding is 

Jake [5:31PM]: you ok if i cant drive you today? :// 

It’s as if the universe decided to use you as its punching bag today. 

You physically let out a distorted groan, not caring if anyone who happened to hear you thought you were a creature from out of this world, as you send him a text back.

y/n [5:32PM]: it’s all good lol have fun with tEaM bOnDiNg

Things were not all good. But no matter how upset you may be, you weren’t going to project your negative vibes onto Jake’s naturally positive ones. So you get up from the stone steps and begin your dreaded walk back home. 

It’s freezing out. You should’ve known better to just throw on a hoodie and call it a day when it’s the middle of December. But then again, you figured by now you’d be in the comfort and warmth of Jake’s car and presence...not walking home in these freezing temperatures. 

You think about Jake and how he’s probably currently suffering from not only his team bonding exercises (but really though, what are team bonding exercises?), but doing them in this weather as well. The poor boy. 

You’re quickly broken out of your thoughts by the sound of a car engine from behind you. When you don’t see it pass by you and instead hear it pull over and park next to the curb of the sidewalk you’re currently on, you automatically deduce that this is it, this is my time, I’m about to get kidnapped by whoever it is behind me but y/n, you should probably turn around and check first before you drive yourself insane in this inner dialogue. 

You turn around and squint into the front window of the car. If it were a kidnapper, this is exactly what your mother told you not to do. Her exact words were: “Run, don’t look back, and scream bloody murder.” 

Good thing it wasn’t. Just an innocent Sunghoon waving his hand at you, motioning you to get in. 

“Sunghoon?” You approach his car and stop at the passenger side’s open window. 

“y/n! It’s freezing out, I’ll drive you home c’mon,” he nods his head towards the passenger side door. 

Well, how could you say no? Sunghoon owns a nice car. Like a nice car. Like car-seat-heaters-that-make-you-feel-like-you’re-physically-melting nice. Beats getting hypothermia outside, right? 

“Why are you going home from school so late?” You ask as you settle into his car, instantly melting at the touch of the aforementioned heated seats. 

“Debate club, actually. Decided I needed another personality trait other than ice skating,” he starts the engine and begins driving towards the direction of your neighborhood. 

You laugh at his comment, you didn’t peg him as a debate kind of student. Quiet Sunghoon? Debate club? If 2 plus 2 is four...

“Hey, I don’t call you the Ice Prince for nothing! Also, don’t forget your other personality trait: forgetting your lunch every day.” 

Sunghoon quickly glances over at you to send you a dirty look (because eyes on the road, kids!), which you return with a cheeky grin. “Need I remind you that was you today?” 

“Touché,” you click your tongue. 

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the faint sound of Sunghoon's music in the background filling in the quietness.  

You’re humming along until Sunghoon breaks the silence, “Did Jake get stuck at practice again?” 

You don’t know why, but you swear you feel your heart beat faster at the mention of Jake’s name. No, that was always there right? Because you were with Sunghoon...your crush..obviously. Obviously. 

Ignoring the feeling, you turn your attention towards the boy driving you. 

“Oh yeah, something about team bonding. How’d you know?” 

“Eh, I just figured since he wasn’t driving you home like he always does.” He turns into your neighborhood. 

You nod at his answer. 

“You two make a good couple.” 

You whip your head at him. Did you hear him correctly?

“It was about time, really. You two have been ogling at one another for so long, Heeseung, Jay, and I almost placed bets on who would be the first to make a move.” 

He keeps his eyes on the road, casually going on about how you and Jake make the cutest couple he’s ever seen. 

You're frozen, unsure of what to think, let alone say. 

You think to two days ago, when you started this entire fake relationship because of the very boy driving you home right now. The same boy who's complimenting you on your fake relationship. The same boy who's supposed to be jealous over that said relationship. The same boy you’re supposed to be crushing over.

But now...only a mere 48 hours later, you were finding yourself okay with the fact that he was happy for you. And for the life of you, you couldn’t remember why you liked Sunghoon in the first place. Not saying he isn’t one to be crushed on, I mean, look at the guy. 

Maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the fact that you didn't feel nervous or giddy or..anything at all when you got into the car with Sunghoon. At least, not until Jake's name was mentioned. That's when you felt the butterflies. At the mention of Jake.  

Jake. 

Weird. 

But before you can come to a conclusion on why you're feeling the way you do, Sunghoon interrupts your thoughts.  

"Well, we're here! Say hi to your parents for me," he pulls into your driveway as you're still collecting your thoughts.  

You give him a quick thanks and one last wave as you enter the front doors of your house.  

Seeing that your only solution towards confusing feelings meant distracting yourself, distract yourself you did.  

Even if it meant distracting yourself with your piling assignments.  

The next time you look up from your work, it's suddenly way past sundown and a heavy storm has taken over. You’re surprised it hasn’t started flooding yet with the amount of rainfall you were hearing. 

You check the time on your phone, the bright 8:16PM on the screen illuminating your dimly lit room. Seeing that neither of your parents have yet to be home from work, it looks like you were going to have to settle with some instant ramen for dinner tonight.  

As you trudge down the stairs of your home, the sound of light knocking against the front door catches your attention. It's been a long day y/n, you're probably hearing things, it's definitely just the rain.

Nope. There it is again, but much louder. Much more urgent.  

You contemplate any and all potential disasters that could happen from answering the door. Only a crazy person would be willing to go out in this hurricane-like weather to be frantically knocking on your door.  

And so, you assume it has to be some psychopath trying to get into your house. Yes, there’s definitely no other logical explanation. 

You scramble around your living room, looking for the next best weapon to defend you. Resorting to the flower vase your mother keeps on the table next to the front door, you hold it out in front of you, as if you're waiting for the door to burst open.  

The knocking continues, gradually getting louder. You mentally curse at yourself for dropping out of the taekwondo class your dad signed you up for when you were younger.  

Vase in hand, you swing open the door and brace for–

"Jake? What the fuck? Get in here, you're gonna get sick!"  

You’re suddenly aware of how stupid you look, holding a light pink vase with a couple of orchids as your only form of self-defense...for it to only be your own best friend. You immediately put it back on the table as Jake quickly rushes past you and into your humble abode.  

You close the door behind you and turn to face the soaked boy.  

“I come bearing gifts, also known as take-out and hot chocolate from that one cafe you love. Also my company, if you’ll take it. I had a feeling you weren’t having the best day today,” he’s simply standing there, holding up a large brown paper bag in one hand, and a deliciously smelling cup of hot chocolate in the other, but you’re looking at him as if he bought you the Moon. 

You stare in awe at the angel of a boy in front of you, silently thanking the stars for gifting you this amazing human being as your best friend. You don’t know what you did to deserve him. 

You give him a soft smile. “Jake, you didn’t have to. It’s practically a shitstorm out there,” you cock your head towards the window, showcasing the downpour of cats and dogs outside. Jake stays by the entrance as you go down the hall and through your house’s linen closet to find a spare towel for the drenched boy.

“Nah it’s no big deal, really. Just fulfilling my duties as your loyal boyfriend,” he grins, even though you can’t see him. He likes calling himself that. Your boyfriend.

Jake continues to shake his messy hair to get the excess rain off, giving a mental apology to whoever is going to have to mop up the puddle forming on the floor due to his unannounced visit. Probably you. 

Jake hears you laugh down the hall. “You’re really invested in your role, huh? Keep this up and you might actually trick me into believing you’re my actual boyfriend.” 

Actual boyfriend? Jake likes the sound of that. Maybe he will keep this up then.

Jake doesn’t have much experience in acting, unless you count that time he played the role of Town Villager #3 in the third grade play, so he never found it as one of his interests. But playing the role of your boyfriend was one he was willing to fulfill for the rest of life, even if it was just for show. 

Jake doesn’t respond to your comment, he’s instead self-aware of his blushing cheeks, thankful that you’re too busy rummaging through your linen closet to take notice. 

“Plus, you didn’t have lunch today and I had feeling you were going to be too caught up in your work to feed yourself anything other than instant ramen,” he sets down his gifts to you on your living room’s coffee table as you come around the corner, fresh towel and new set of clothes in hand. 

His eyes fall on the familiar looking pair of sweatpants and hoodie resting on the palms of your hands. 

Hm. A little too familiar. 

Then, it clicks in his head. 

His eyes narrow at you as you giggle at his reaction, “Oh, so it takes me getting drenched in the rain for you to finally return my clothes that I’ve been missing!?” 

“Hey! I’m not returning them, simply loaning them out to a friend who’s in dire need. You basically gifted them to me the second you left them here months ago.” 

“You’re annoying.” 

“Love you too,” you toss the clothes at him and take a seat on the floor around your coffee table, prepping the table with the boxes of Chinese food Jake supplied. 

After Jake changes into the stolen dry clothes, he takes a seat next to an already-eating you at the coffee table. 

“You. are. my lord and savior Sim Jaeyun,” you’re saying with your mouth full of fried rice. You sigh from satisfaction and rest your head against Jake’s shoulder as you continue chewing. He grins as he helps himself to his own serving of fried rice and orange chicken. 

You look up at him from your spot, “How was team bonding today?” 

Jake groans in response, clearly annoyed. “Stupid. I don’t get how doing trust falls and pyramid building is going to get us any closer. If anything, I almost FELL off that pyramid today!” 

You don’t know why, but you find yourself admiring him and his soft features as he continues to rant about one of his teammates, specifically, the one who almost dropped him. 

The way his messy hair, unkept from the rain ruining it, almost covers his eyes (but you tell yourself you like it this way, it looks more natural on him), the way the corners of his lips are always perked upwards (even when he’s ranting), the way his eyes sparkle whenever he’s truly passionate about whatever he’s talking about, the way his eyes look at you like–

“Stare much? Look, I get you can’t resist my good looks but at least be subtle about it,” he smirks at you as he takes another spoon of rice. 

You break out of his trance and scoff at him. 

“You’re cute when you rant,” you nonchalantly say as you move from your spot to mirror his actions and add more rice to your plate as well.  Jake’s stills at your sudden comment, unsure of how to respond. Lucky for him, you’re distracted by the mountain of food on your plate to even notice the blushing mess of a boy next to you. 

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute. Or else I’d deck you right here and now for ditching me after school today.” 

Anddd there goes the moment. Leave it to you to follow up a compliment with a threat of violence. 

Jake finds it cute anyways. He always finds you cute. 

Jake narrows his eyes and lightly shoves you before an apology is written all over his face. “Sorry about that by the way. I feel awful about making you walk home when it was freezing out.” 

“Nah, it’s okay. Sunghoon gave me a ride, actually. Did you know he does debate? I guess you learn something new everyday,” you ramble, unaware of the boy next to you getting tense at the sudden mention of the other’s name. 

Up until now, Jake’s completely forgotten about Sunghoon's involvement in this entire scheme. In fact, the past 48 hours with you have felt so normal, so comfortable, he almost forgot about the deal in the first place.   “You think he has any clue?” Jake suddenly asks, referring to the plan. 

You immediately know what he’s referring to, as Jake practically worded out your very own thoughts. 

You shrug. “Not a single one. We’re practically William and Kate in his eyes. But honestly, that’s the least of my worries right now. I’m too distracted by my exams right now to care.” 

Jake feels guilty for being satisfied with your answer. He’s 100% sure that if convincing Sunghoon took you two an entire lifetime of fake dating, he’d be all too willing to do it. 

“Go to Jay’s party with me tomorrow,” he abruptly says, catching your attention as your mouth is stuffed. Cute. 

He pokes your cheek. “It’ll get your mind off of work and plus, what’s more convincing than showing up to a party with your amazing boyfriend?” he wiggles his eyebrows at you. Jake doesn’t know where he gets his sudden surge of confidence. But he does know he loves calling himself your boyfriend...even if it’s for the time being. 

Rolling your eyes and swatting his poking fingers away from your face, you ponder on his suggestion. 

“You mean my annoying boyfriend,” you stick your tongue out at him. Jake takes a mental picture and hopes it never leaves his mind. 

“But I guess you could be right. Maybe I can clear my head for the night before I study my ass off all weekend.” 

Friday, December 11th 

The party does not clear your mind. 

If anything, it gives you enough headaches to last you at least until the end of high-school. 

You come to this revelation as you and Jake approach Jay’s home, a luxurious mansion sitting at the end of a cul-de-sac, lined with similarly luxurious palaces, located in an equally luxurious neighborhood. 

You come to this revelation when you can already feel the pounding bass of music as you walk up Jay’s driveway. 

You come to this revelation when, not even two seconds after entering Jay’s front doors––

“You’re here!” A buzzed Jay shouts at the two of you, causing the both of you to contemplate your past choices that brought you here today. Jay definitely isn’t straight up drunk yet, but Jake still makes a mental note to keep an eye on him tonight. Just in case. 

The blonde-haired boy is quick to hand over two red solo cups of god knows what, to which you and Jake immediately put down on the nearest table after Jay walks away to greet the next incoming guests (you know, to not hurt his feelings). 

You and Jake are lucky enough to have been around Jay and his parties long enough to know that going all out at these parties will not be pretty the next morning.

You cringe at the memory of last year, when you had to suffer from possibly the worst hangover of all hangovers after one of Jay’s parties. Jake will never let you forget how miserable you looked the next morning. His camera roll’s album titled “y/n blackmail pics” can vouch for that.

“Remind me again to never listen to you,” you almost have to shout at Jake over the thumping music. Jake laughs at your comment and tugs at your hand as he begins entering the house.

The two of you do your rounds of greetings to the people you know...and random underclassmen who you swear you have never seen before but somehow made it to this party. You’ve always questioned how Jay’s invite list worked. Maybe there isn’t one. That would explain how it looked like someone announced Jay was giving out free Teslas and the entire school got hold of the news. 

“Thank god you guys are here,” you hear a voice come from behind the two of you as you guys leave the main room to enter the house’s smaller, but just as luxurious looking, den. You turn to see Heeseung with Sunghoon following closely behind, trying his best not to get swept away in the crowd of people. 

The den is where you usually stayed during these parties. It’s not like there are rules of where people are allowed to party, by any means, but it’s like how a high-school’s cafeteria worked. There’s a mutual silent agreement of where everyone goes, and the den is where the party host and his friends went.  

“Okay, is it just me, or is tonight’s party just a little...too..much?” Sunghoon asks as the four of you take your seats on the main couch of the room. Jake’s quick to make space for you next to him as you go to sit, but to his surprise, you find your home right on his lap. 

“You said be convincing right?” you say into his ear as you settle yourself. Right. That’s totally why. Because you had to go along with the ruse. Obviously. 

You shift a bit so you’re more facing sideways, not blocking off Jake’s line of vision as the boy himself is..well, calling him a rag doll might be excessive. 

But he’s sure he looks like one right now, having lost all senses in his limbs, leaving him frozen underneath you. 

Jake Sim is the epitome of politeness. He was raised in a family that taught him how to respectfully greet others, how to always offer food to others before eating it himself, how to properly treat a significant other. As a result, Jake grew up to be one of the sweetest, kindest, purest people to ever walk this earth. 

(Relatively speaking, the earth is large, but so is Jake’s heart.) 

But human-beings aren’t perfect, they must have a balance. A balance of pros and cons. 

Sure, he can’t pack his own lunch and sometimes forgets to water the little succulent you gifted him that’s currently seated on his window sill. Sure, sometimes he’s too sweet for his own good, you know, like willing-to-be-your-fake-boyfriend too sweet. But aside from the minor details, Jake Sim doesn’t have many cons, no. 

But he sure can be awkward. 

And so because Jake Sim is sweet, kind, pure, and awkward, he is unsure of what to do with himself when you’re seated right on top of him. 

As if you could read his befuddled mind, you take his arm that’s resting behind you to wrap around your waist as your support as you throw one of your arms around his shoulder. And throughout this entire adjustment, his widened eyes are staring right at you. 

Bless this pure, pure boy. 

Also bless the position you’re in, blocking the two other boys from directly seeing Jake’s face. Because if they were to catch glimpse of Jake’s expression right now, your cover might be blown, just like that. You’re lucky Heeseung and Sunghoon are distracted by another classmate who came up to them. 

“Relax,” you sweetly laugh, cupping his chin with your free hand and lightly squeezing his cheeks. “You’re so adorably awkward.” 

Jake pouts at you. “I am not awkward!” 

“Right, and I’m totally dating you for real,” you playfully whisper at him, eliciting a poke at your waist in response. 

Twenty minutes of people-watching-aka-“who do you think is gonna pass out first?”-from-your-spot-on-the-couch later, the four of you draw your attention to the rowdy party host you all have the honor of calling your friend––aka Jay––dancing (that is, if you call wildly swinging your limbs in all four directions dancing) in the middle of the den. 

"Oh god, look at him," Sunghoon voices from besides you.

Heeseung's already filming the moment on his phone. Ah yes, technology. The best thing to ever happen to drunk teens' friends.  

"He's so wasted," you throw your head back as you let out a laugh. “We should help the kid out.” 

Poor Jay. He's not gonna hear the end of it after tonight.

"I don't know why he thinks these parties are such a good idea when he knows how trashed he's gonna be when he wakes up," Jake says, his hand naturally squeezing your waist as you giggle at his comment. "And how trashed the house will be."  

Jay slumbers over to where the four of you are seated, and abruptly stops right in front of the couch.

"My best friends!" Jay happily cheers. “Having fun?” 

“Watching you? Always,” you say to the boy who’s squeezing into a seat between you and Sunghoon, as if the small couch wasn’t already suffocating enough (and that’s with you on Jake’s lap). 

“But for real though, you should probably lay off the drinks for now,” Heeseung insists. “For all our sakes.” 

Sunghoon nods along and grabs the cup Jay’s currently nursing and sets it down where it’s out of Jay’s reach, much to his dismay. But the disappointment quickly leaves the dazed boy’s head, as his attention is now directed towards you and Jake. 

“Well if it isn’t mom and dad,” Jay turns to face you and Jake, certainly amused by your seating arrangement. 

“You know–” Jay points a finger at the two of you. “For a couple that’s certainly close, I haven’t seen you two kiss.” 

Jake is immediately coughing, certainly not expecting that to come out of his friend’s mouth. 

“Okay and your point is?” Jake frowns at Jay. If Jay wasn’t tipsy, Jake would’ve smacked the back of his head by now. 

“I’m just saying...” the blonde responds, both hands up in the air as if Jake is accusing him of something, when in was, in fact, the opposite. “But nevermind, Jakey boy here is probably too innocent for such nonsense anyways.” 

Yes, it’s confirmed. Once Jay sobers up tomorrow, Jake is driving over to his house (even though it’s a good ten minute drive from his own) just to smack him. 

“What do you mean I’m too–” 

Jake doesn’t finish his sentence. In fact, Jake doesn’t even remember what he was going to say. 

Jake doesn’t think nor feel anything else other than your lips planted on his. 

You’re pulling him in close, your hands cupping his face as his own are twitching on your waist, his mind flustered. You move your hands from his face to his neck, to which Jake immediately relaxes at. 

Sure, you two are in the middle of a dumb high-school party, one filled with pounding music and shouting teenagers, but right now, in this moment, Jake can only feel you. And he doesn’t want the feeling to ever stop. 

When you part, Jake’s eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips, his own parted in shock. He thinks he might pass out right here and now. He thinks his heart might explode right here and now. He thinks he might lov-

“Happy?” you turn to a satisfied Jay, ignoring the looks of amusement from Heesung and Sunghoon besides him. 

“Well,” you pat Jake’s leg as you get up from your spot. “I’m gonna get us some drinks. Punch only, of course.” 

Jake’s eyes are on you as you walk away, his face tinted pink from the adrenaline of it all, his heart racing. 

Jake thinks back to three days ago, when he told himself that this idea of yours was going to be all fine. After all, it was only going to be for one week. Afterwards, he can move on with his life as if nothing happened. 

But fast forward 72 hours later, 72 hours after you and Jake started this act, 72 hours after Jake told himself it’ll be all fine, Jake knows he was poorly mistaken.

Because 72 hours later, in the middle of a party that reeked of the combined smell of alcohol and sweat, Jake knows one thing and one thing for sure.

He never wants to move on from the feeling of being with you. He never wants to move on from this.

From you. 

He’s screwed. 

Saturday, December 12th 

When Jake wakes up, much later than he intended to, on Saturday morning, the first sensation he feels are his tingling lips, still in disbelief that they graced your own last night. 

The second sensation being his pounding mind––it’s running through ten million thoughts at a time, telling him no last night wasn’t a dream. 

Third: his heart beating so fast at the thought of you, he thinks he might beat out of his chest.

And fourth, a buzzing noise. 

Jake blindly flounders his arm to the table beside him in hopes of finding the origin of the annoying sound, aka, his phone. 

After knocking down multiple miscellaneous items on his nightstand (he makes a mental note to clean his room later), he successfully retrieves the item of search. 

Jake squints at the bright screen, mind still cloudy from a mix of 1) being half-asleep, and 2) still processing what happened the night before. 

y/n [11:10AM]: r u awake yet? 

y/n [11:22AM]: imma take that as a no

y/n [11:35AM]: lemme know when ur up 

jake [11:44AM]: just woke up sorry 

jake [11:44AM]: are you okay? what’s up

y/n [11:45AM]: r u busy? 

y/n [11:45AM]: kinda wanted to talk abt smth

jake [11:45AM]: uh well no im still in bed lmao

y/n [11:46AM]: cool im outside your door 

Jake’s eyes widen as he processes your last few texts. 

Talk? Outside his door? 

Jake’s heart is nervously pounding as jumps out of bed and quickly puts on the first plaid flannel he finds. He scrambles to his mirror and gives his reflection a quick run-down. 

He’s sporting your his favorite hoodie underneath the flannel that’s long overdue a wash and his tousled hair has seen better days, but he couldn't care less. 

Before his mind can catch up to his actions, he’s rushing down the stairs, skipping two at a time and to this front door. Because he didn’t want to keep you waiting? Because he was too excited to see you? Maybe a mix of both. Definitely more of the latter, however. 

He quickly runs a hand through his hair to try to fix it up as much as he can, to no avail, before opening the door to reveal you, sitting on the steps of his front porch. 

“y/n,” he’s breathing heavily as you turn to greet him with your sweet smile he didn’t even realize he was missing. Is it possible to miss someone overnight? Jake concludes yes, it definitely is. 

“Did you run down here or something?,” you question his out-of-breath state, a teasing tone laces the tip of your tongue. 

“Or something,” Jake mutters as he closes the front door behind him to join you on the steps when you make no sign of moving. “Have you been out here all morning?” 

“Not allll morning. I had a feeling you’d sleep in so I came around the time I first texted you. Would’ve knocked but didn’t wanna bother your family,” you hum, keeping your eyes trained on the peaceful scenery around you. 

You’ve always loved Jake’s neighborhood, it brought you a sense of peace, a sense of home. 

Or was that because it reminded you of Jake? 

“You could never be a bother,” he quickly rebuttals as he takes his seat next to you on the steps. 

You respond with a soft smile before turning your attention back to anything other than the boy next to you. Your mind seems to be lost in its own thoughts, Jake can tell by the distant look in your eyes. 

The sound of birds chirping in the distance fills the silence that falls between the two of you. 

Any other day, Jake would love this. He savors every second he’s with you, even if it’s just pure silence. 

But this silence was different. It wasn’t the usual comforting, warm silence that the two of you share on a typical day. This one held tension, tension so thick that Jake doesn’t know where to begin thinking. 

But here’s the thing. Jake doesn’t think. 

Not when it comes to you. 

He takes a deep breath. Rubs his hands together. Pats them on his lap. Turns towards you. 

“Look, I-” 

“I think I might like you.” The words come out of your mouth so fast, Jake’s positive he heard you wrong the first time around. 

He whips his head to meet your eyes, your own already staring back at him, your bottom lip nervously tucked under your teeth. 

“No, I––I do. I know I do. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you and I don’t think I’m doing a very good job right now,” the words are all of the sudden tumbling out of your mouth as if your brain flipped a switch and isn’t able to turn it off. “In hindsight, I should’ve known better to fake date my own best friend. But these past few days made me realize how much I love being with you. And not like how I’m always with you 24/7 before this entire thing started, but being with you. I even started getting that weird, bubbly feeling in my stomach every time I so much as heard your name. And then last night at the party, I realized afterwards that I wouldn’t have kissed you if some part of me didn’t see you in that way. Even if it meant Jay would’ve been on our asses all night if I didn’t. So yeah.” 

You finish with a deep breath and look up at him to meet his widened eyes. Silence.

Jake thought he was braindead during last week’s history quiz. Jake thought he was braindead when he had to cram a semester’s worth of chemistry content the night before his exam. Heck, Jake thought he was braindead when you first told him about your idea of a fake dating him. But no, this is braindead.

He’s finally hearing what he’s been dreaming of for so long, and of all times, now his brain decides to shut off.  

“Are you..uh..are you gonna say anything?” You’re nervously fumbling with your hands, desperate to distract yourself with anything else apart from his silent stare. 

"Why are you sorry?" Jake says before his mind can think of anything else. He doesn't pay attention to his thumping heart that's one look-from-you away from exploding right then and there. "You didn't do anything wrong. If anything, you took the words right out of my mouth.” 

Now you're staring at him with the wide eyes, the words processing in your mind.

Jake realizes he's waited too long to do this. A few years too long. He also realizes he shouldn't have put on that extra layer of a flannel. The nervous tension created by the two of you was suffocating enough, and being outside under the bright sun didn’t help. 

"I like you too. God y/n, I like you too so much," Jake doesn't even care if his words are all sorts of messed up right now. He just needs you to get the idea. "I have for a while now.” 

You let out a relieved sigh, ecstasy rushing through your blood. “Really? I think I have for a while too. I’m so stupid, it took me so long to realize it. It didn’t hit me until I realized how I felt around you, compared to the guy I’m supposed to actually have a crush on.” 

Jake lets out a laugh, the tension immediately dissolving. “Hey, if it wasn’t for Sunghoon, I don’t think we’d be here right now.” 

“You’re right, I’m too oblivious and you’re too awkward to actually make a move,” you wink at him. If his heart wasn’t fluttering at the sight of you, on his porch on a Saturday morning, confessing your feelings to him, Jake probably would’ve lightly shoved you away. 

Instead, he’s turning to you with the most endeared look on his face, and you’re blushing underneath his gaze.

“What? Stare much?” You giggle, quoting the boy himself as you shyly duck your head to avoid his stare. 

Jake gently grabs your chin to tilt your face towards his, and before you can process what’s happening, he suddenly meets your lips with his own, closing the gap between you two. 

Jake thinks if the ground underneath him right now decided to open up and swallow him whole, he’d die happily. 

Jake smiles against you, feeling comfort in ways he’ll never be able to achieve without you. 

Your hands instinctively find their way into his hair, as one of his rests below your ear, thumb softly caressing your cheek, the other pulling you in by the waist. He’s naturally leaning into you, gravitating towards your warmth, unable to stop the giddy feeling bubbling in his stomach. 

He doesn’t think the feeling will ever go away. 

When you pull away to catch your breath, you rest your head against the nook of his neck, basking in his presence as his arms both find their way around your waist. You sigh in pleasure. 

“Remember at the beginning of all of this, when you told me ‘Just try not to fall in love with me?’” Jake gently says. Jake feels the slight nod you give against his shoulder as you hum in response. 

Jake whispers two more words into your ear, filling you with happiness and warmth you know you won’t be able to find through anyone––or anything––else. 

“Too late.” 

✰ if you made it ‘til the end, ily :’))))) 

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Part of the Family

Enzo St. John x Mikaelson! Reader

Part 1 of 4

Words: 2621

Summary: After leaving the Armory, Enzo is devastated to find that his family was a group of thieves and liars.  Determined to help your boyfriend through this, you come up with a wildly romantic solution. 

Note: Besides being in season seven of Vampire Diaries, there isn’t much else of either show’s plot. I just wanted to write a little series that I thought would be both Enzo’s romantic side and the Mikaelson’s flare for the dramatic. So no deadly threats besides family drama. Let me know if you guys like it! (Note: I’m reposting these because I really wanted to just make some minor edits before I finally finish out this series)

Warnings: Lots of Fluff (and some mild language)

-

The quiet was both peaceful and maddening. You were used to the sound of jazz music in the morning and the strong smell of coffee, but this morning there was nothing. Just silence. You slowly rose from the bed and grabbed the nearest pieces of decent clothing you could find- which just happened to be your boyfriend’s favorite shirt, a pair of jeans and sandals. Your feet made almost no sound on the hardwood floor, but it was enough for Enzo to hear you coming. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you, love.” He said, looking out the window of your apartment. 

“How could you have? You haven’t made a sound at all.” You scoffed.

“Are you asking me to be louder at seven in the morning?” He turned towards you and you could see the raw emotion in his eyes. He saw you looking and quickly moved his gaze to the kitchen. “Ah, I’ve forgotten the coffee. No wonder you’re in a foul mood.” He had been acting this way ever since he had gotten back from the Armory. Something was wrong, you just couldn’t figure out what. You followed him into the kitchen and wrapped your arms around his waist, placing a light kiss on his shoulder before resting your head there.

“Enzo…” You started, kissing the crook of his neck. “What’s going on? You’ve been acting strange lately.”

“Don’t know what you mean, darling.” He poured coffee into your mug and handed it back to you. You pulled yourself up onto the counter and sipped the delicious warm liquid. 

“You haven't played your guitar in days, you won't go out of the apartment, and every time I try to talk to you you seem completely distant.” Even now, he was looking off, not really hearing you. “Enzo!” His gaze snapped to you.

“I’m fine love. Really.” He kissed your cheek as he walked past. Still not convinced, you followed him to the living room where the two of you sat in silence. You took a deep breath, wincing at your own words.

“It’s the Armory, isn’t it? Your family.”

“I said that I’m fine!” He snapped. “Maybe I’m just sick of all your bloody questions.” You scoffed, narrowing your eyes at him and setting the mug on the table. 

“You’re so afraid of being alone, Enzo.” You stood and grabbed your car keys. “Maybe you should stop pushing away the people who care about you.” He didn’t even move his gaze from the floor as you slammed the door of the apartment behind you. 

Enzo rubbed his eyes. He knew that he shouldn’t have snapped at you. He was tired and hurt over the fact that his family wasn’t at all what he dreamed they would be. They were quite the opposite, actually. He feared that he was exactly like them; a lying, heartless beast who only cared about the ends instead of the means. Looking back at his life only made him see how similar he was to them. And it scared him more than he wished it would. 

-

Bonnie gave you the ‘I told you so’ look from across the cafe table. You rolled your eyes. Although your family and the remaining Bennett witch had never gotten along, you had become best friends with both her, Caroline, and Elena. It still hurt to think that you would never see two of your closest friends together again all because of Kai’s stupid curse. 

“Don’t say it.” You begged taking a long sip of the new coffee you ordered. She held up her hands and smiled innocently.

“I have no idea what you mean.” She too drank from the cup in front of her. “It’s not like I’ve been telling you for the past year that Enzo is a total dick who is so undeserving of you.”

“We had an argument, Bonnie.” You sighed. “We didn’t break up so stop talking about him like we did.” 

“I always talk about him like this.” You pegged your bunched up napkin at her and fell back in your seat. “Look, Y/N, I know you care about him, but I saw what he was like in the Armory. He was so determined to figure out who his family was, I think when he found out who they really were… he broke.”

“I know and I want to help him. I just don’t know how.” You thought of what your life was like compared to his. “I don’t exactly know what it’s like to not have a family.” Every moment of your life was surrounded with memories of your twin brother Kol, or your younger sister Rebekah, or of course your two loving- but insanely protective- older brothers; Elijah and Niklaus. Your siblings meant everything to you, and it was hard to imagine what your thousand years would have been like without them. 

“Try to make him feel like he’s a part of something.” Bonnie suggested. Despite her dislike of Enzo, a part of her did like to think of him as a somewhat ally. She also cared deeply about you and she wanted you to be happy, even if it was with Enzo. “Make him see that he isn’t alone.” 

-

“What the hell do you want?” Damon snapped, narrowing his eyes at his old friend standing before him. Enzo pushed passed him into the house. “Come on in.” Damon slammed the door and followed Enzo into his living room.

“I need a drink.” He muttered, finding Damon’s favorite bourbon and poured himself a glass. He drank it quickly and poured another. Damon snatched the bottle away from him.

“Sorry buddy, but I am not your personal liquor store.” He poured a glass for himself and placed the bottle away from Enzo. “What’s wrong with you anyway? Where’s your obnoxious British swagger?”

“Let’s just say I’ve had a rough week.” 

“Ah yes, the rest of the St. John psycho clan…” Damon started. Enzo shot him a look. “So your family sucks. Join the club.” 

“It’s not just that…” Enzo sighed heavily. “It’s Y/N.”

“So this is a lover’s spat? My favorite.” He leaned against the table with a smirk. “What did the female half of the Devil Twins do now?”

“Y/N didn’t do anything. I snapped at her this morning after she asked about… them.” 

“Let me guess, she wants to meet the parents?” Damon said sarcastically. 

“Can you take anything seriously?” Enzo growled. Damon wiggled his eyebrows mischievously.

“Nope.” He ushered Enzo onto the couch who laid down, arm slung over his face. “Maybe this is just your turning point. I mean, we all kind of knew that the two of you wouldn’t work.” He moved his arm so he could look at Damon.

“What?”

“Yeah, I mean, sure it was ‘cute’ at first. The two sociopaths of Mystic Falls united by their undying need for mayhem and death.” He gagged. “But we knew it wasn’t going to last. Her family puts each other in coffins, you’re claustrophobic, she has daddy issues, you had a thing for my mom- the list goes on.” Enzo propped himself up on his elbows.

“You think we should split up?” 

“Of course not.” Damon took a long drink of bourbon. “Have you not been listening to a word I just said?” Enzo’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Did I miss something?” He wondered, fully sitting up on the couch. Damon rolled his eyes and moved behind the sofa to get more bourbon. 

“I’m Damon freaking Salvatore! Am I really going to tell you to go with what everyone else thinks?” He put his hand on his chest in mock offense. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.” 

“So you’re saying not to split up?” Damon smacked the back of his head and Enzo growled.

“Do I need to spell it out for you? Think about it. Everyone thought that Elena was making a horrible decision when she chose me. Despite the fact that she is in a witchy coma for the next sixty years, we still held onto the idea of spending our lives together. Exhibit B; everyone said that Stefan and Caroline were the perfect couple and they were going to live happily ever after- until he made the dick move to run off with Valerie even after we killed Rayna.” Instead of pouring a glass, he just took a swig from the bottle. “The point is: the world is full of assholes who are often wrong. So don’t listen to them.” Enzo blew out a long breath and fell back onto the couch. 

“I suppose you’re right.” He chuckled.

“Of course I’m right.” Damon lifted him up from his seat and started pushing him towards the door. “So go find your hot psycho original vampire and make sweet love to her for all I care. Whatever gets you out of my house.”

“Why did we stop being mates again?” Enzo asked sarcastically when he was shoved outside.

“You tried to kill my girlfriend, remember?” Damon thought for a moment. “Then again, I did try to kill yours on multiple occasions so I guess we’re even.” He laughed to himself. “There was this one time, after we-” He stopped the sentence abruptly, remembering that he was standing in front of Y/N’s current boyfriend, so revealing their dirty past relationship was probably a bad idea. “Nevermind. Now go.” He finished and slammed the door. Enzo thought about everything he had said and knew what he needed to do. 

-

He found you sitting back in the apartment, with an extremely determined look on your face. When you saw him come in, you stood. You opened your mouth to speak, but he stopped you.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted. You cocked your head to the side.

“For what?”

“Shouting at you this morning. I’ve been thinking ever since I got back from the Armory, panicking really.” He explained. “What if I’m just like them? I’ve lied and cheated and killed to get what I want, much like they have to add to their supernatural collection. I was angry at myself and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.” To his surprise, you laughed.

“You don’t need to apologize, Enzo.” You stepped towards him, placing a hand on his cheek. “God knows I’ve started my fair share of brawls between us.” He leaned into your hand, the tips of your fingers tangling in his hair. It took all of his strength to pull away and continue.

“I haven’t finished.” He paced across the room and your hand fell to your side. “I’m not going to be able to just move past this. I need time. I need to try and figure out what I’m supposed to do now.” 

“I know.” You interjected. “I want to help you, Enzo. I want to help you get through all of this.”

“No.” He said bluntly. “I need to do this on my own.” You thought that you could let it go. That you could let him go off on his own to figure things out by himself. But you couldn’t.

“No you don’t.” You snapped. “Enzo, you don’t have to do this alone.”

“It is my family. I need to do this.”

“They may be your blood, but they are not your family.” You put your hands on either side of his face. His eyes were glistening.

“Then I shall never have one?” His expression was so sad, it crushed you. One solution came to mind and it made your body shiver with nerves.

“If you want a family…” You paused and studied him. You knew that you wanted this, but would he? “Become part of mine.” His puzzled expression pushed you further. “Your whole life, you’ve been wanting to be a part of something. You’ve wanted a place to belong. I can give that to you.” 

“Y/N, what are you saying.” 

“I’m saying,” you took a deep breath. “Lorenzo St. John… Will you marry me?” His eyes went wide and for a moment your heart sank. But then he smiled, sending a bright feeling through you, like a ball of light traveling through your veins. 

“Are you serious?” He asked and you nodded. He lifted you off the ground, spinning around and laughing. “Yes. Of course yes!” Your lips collided as you continued to spin. He set you down on your feet, your arms still draped around his neck. “Though you have robbed me of making the large romantic gesture of proposing.” 

“Well,” you grinned, taking his hand. “Let me make it up to you.”

-

You curled your toes around the bedsheets and released them, feeling the breeze come in from the open window. You felt a hand playing with your hair and you turned to face Enzo. He twisted a strand around his finger then pushed it away from your face. 

“Hello love.” He purred, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. You sighed with content. He wrapped his arms around you and you laid your head on his chest. The moment couldn’t be more perfect. Until you realized…

“You’re going to have to meet them.” You blurted suddenly. He pulled away so he could look at you.

“What?”

“My siblings. You’re going to have to meet them.” He chuckled.

“You’re worried about that?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed. “I would like to be married in New Orleans, since it is the closest thing I’ve had to having a real home.”

“That’s perfectly fine with me.” He said, pulling you into his arms again. You pushed away and sat up.

“I don’t think you understand. We’re not...” You paused to search for the right word. “Normal. Nor are they very hospitable when it comes to strangers.” He sat up next to you, his fingers drawing circles on your back. “We need a plan.” 

“I highly doubt-” He started but you cut him off.

“Freya will probably be defensive at first, but if you do nothing to threaten us, she’ll warm up to you. Rebekah will try and get you to give her a reason to hate you, so you’ll have to make sure to be careful. Eventually she’ll accept us since she’s always been a sucker for a good romance. Kol will be fine with anything that brings a party.” You turned to face him, a very serious look on your face. “Elijah is the one you want to impress. He’s the only one who can stop Klaus from killing you.”

“Stop Klaus from doing what?” Enzo exclaimed.

“Niklaus is very temperamental when it comes to his sibling’s relationships with other people. He always fears that we will abandon him for somebody else. So when he discovers a romance, it is rare that our significant others survive the encounter.” 

“And you want me to meet him?” He scoffed. “And then tell him we’re getting married.” You snatched up Enzo’s shirt that you had worn earlier from the bedpost.

“My siblings being a part of our wedding is really important to me Enzo. Even the ones with murderous tendencies.” You left out the fact that all of you tended to go on killing sprees from time to time- yourself included. He sighed and pulled you in for a long, passionate kiss.

“Well if I am killed because I love you it will have been worth it.” You pouted your lips sarcastically.

“You’re so sweet.” You said, pressing your lips to his again, but pushing away quickly. “We’re still going.” He groaned and fell back on the bed. You rolled your eyes and located the rest of your clothes, barely able to contain the turning bundle of excitement and nerves rolling around your stomach. It was time to go home.

-

Keeping Reading to: Meet the Mikaelsons

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 25

AO3

Beta reader as always is @thesnadger

Nothing to do but talk.

Martin and Jon settle in for a movie night.

The documentary, if it could be called that, was absolute bunk.

Littered throughout were vague interviews and wild assumptions on the part of the very on-screen director, all tied together with a final push for people to purchase a very specific brand of smoke detector. And the low quality of the video couldn’t be blamed solely on Martin’s internet.

They watched the thing from start to finish, though, and by the end of its 70-minute runtime (“I should’ve guessed by how short it was,” Jon had grumbled partway through) their viewing had turned primarily to Jon taking the piss out of it. Academically, of course.

On Martin’s end the film itself was bad in an enjoyable way, and while he didn’t have the context for all of Jon’s complaints it was easy for him to listen. He’d even made some jokes that got Jon to snort.

He did have to sit uncomfortably straight to keep from leaning against each other. Jon had turned it a bit so they could both see, but when viewed from too hard an angle the picture looked even worse. So, Martin did his best to give Jon space and not let the effort distract him from the screen.

All of this being true, Martin was grateful for the horrible film. Nothing filled silence better than movies and television, so the nights following they settled into a routine. Someone would make dinner (with no further… outbursts) and then they would find something to watch. Afterwards they would say goodnight and Martin would escape upstairs to decompress with his little notebook.

Jon’s original idea had been to find something related to their goals. However, after another let down on night two involving a very old retrospective on the mid-century fishing industry (“Wrong century,” Martin had said about five minutes in), Jon dropped the idea, thus opening up a whole new world of cable television and old vhs tapes on night three.

“You bought yourself a laptop but never had a dvd player?” Jon yawned, getting comfortable on his side of the couch. 

“We sort of… skipped it?” Martin dug through a box of tapes for something worth watching, sifting through sappier options and 80s action flicks alike. “Dunno how, but we never got one. The laptop ended up being the first thing I ever had to play dvds, but the telly is too old to be hooked up to it. S’fine, though. I like tapes.”

“And you never get bored of it? Flipping between tapes and whatever’s on at a given time?”

Martin rolled his eyes. “I have a phone for other stuff, obviously. To be honest I don’t watch a lot to begin with, nothing new anyway.”

“Hmph. Same for me,” Jon conceded, sinking further into the couch. “Feels like there are other things I could be doing.”

“Except for now?”

A wry smile. “Special case.”

Martin’s stomach did a flip. He didn’t feel guilty, per se, but he wished he had something for Jon to work on to stave off the boredom. Everything had been so quiet with Peter gone and Simon’s waiting that no new leads had popped up. It wasn’t fair that Jon had to sit around doing nothing after wandering about in the sea for weeks. The least he could do was provide some entertainment.

“Hm. Right, how about this one?” Martin looked back and waved a vhs set. It was some old fantasy series with a group of children on the cover standing in a hallway. “Haven’t watched it since I was a kid, but I remember liking it.”

“Two tapes’ worth?” Jon glanced up at the ceiling. “It’s in episodes, right?”

“Yeah, though if you’d rather find something else…?”

Jon waved his hand. "No, I can’t spend the whole evening making up my mind. If we don’t like it, then we can find something else.”

With that settled Martin popped the tape in and took up his seat. On the other end, Jon sat with the blanket pulled to his chest. He wore a new set of pyjamas Martin had picked up at the shop along with a few other things to save Jon from having to wear the same clothes day and night. 

The show was a simple series meant for children, easy enough to follow in plot that some side chatter didn’t interrupt things too much. Honestly, Martin was glad they weren’t paying a whole lot of attention. He hadn’t watched it in years and wasn’t looking to be embarrassed.

A few minutes in, the children from the cover were running up the stairs to explore a large house. “Safe to assume you don’t have siblings?” Jon asked.

“Hm? Oh, no, it’s just me. You?”

He snorted. “Even if my grandmother wanted another child running around, I was enough to deal with.”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “What, were you a terror?”

“I’d use the word ‘adventurous’, but she would’ve agreed with that description. If we’d been in that house,” Jon gestured toward the screen, “she would’ve been in trouble. Until it ate me or something.”

“I don’t think that’s how it goes?” 

Jon frowned. “That’s- No, I mean if it were real it would probably mean harm. Supernatural houses aren’t trustworthy entities outside of fiction. In fiction they’re mischievous at the least.”

“Can’t imagine that, a building that likes to mess with you,” Martin said, grimacing. He really didn’t remember much about this story. Maybe that was how it went? “I’m sure they’ll be fine. I wasn’t into spooky things back then.”

“I’ll take your word for it, but I’m not letting my guard down,” Jon said. He watched as the children walked up a spiral staircase. “Would you have wanted siblings?”

Martin considered this. “I can’t imagine having them? But an older sibling would’ve been nice. Someone to know better and help me with things.”

“I think any other child would’ve found me irritating, older or younger. Best to keep to myself,” Jon said dryly. “Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes, you can imagine the additional worry of raising a child who could explore the ocean like it was the woods. It’s not like she could follow me in.”

“I bet… She wasn’t like you, then?”

Turning back to the television, Jon said, “No. She was from my father’s side.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t tell if the question was wrong to ask, so looked back to the show. It was luck of the draw, then, whether someone was born with a selkie skin. Perhaps there was nothing to do with genetics in circumstances like this.

Back on the screen, one of the children had chosen to wander outside into the beginnings of a snowstorm with no thought to the cold. Outside the real world window it had begun to hail, and Martin realized how frigid it had become both outdoors and in.

“Well, at least this story is right for the season,” Martin said, standing up. “I’m gonna grab another blanket.”

With a start, Jon looked at him and held up the one he was under. “Do you want this one? I don’t-”

“N-no, that’s fine!” He walked briskly out of the room, feeling rude and stupid. All Jon had offered was for him to use the damned thing, not share it. And it wouldn’t have fit both of them even if he had meant it that way!

Opening the hall closet, he tried to calm down. He peered at the pile of folded sheets and blankets, lifting each layer to search for one he liked. There was a flannel one somewhere, deceptively warm for how thin it was-

Oh.

Tucked far down into the pile, far back enough so it was hidden if the one above wasn’t lifted, Martin saw something dappled and grey and out of place amongst the linen. Jon had left it to dry completely beforehand, so the surrounding fabric was unwrinkled. Considerate. And in a decent hiding place all things considered. It was a shame Martin had gone and ruined it.

He sighed, grabbing one of the blankets at the top that he’d initially passed on. Once he reached the doorway to the living room, he stopped and stared at Jon who was doing his best to seem unperturbed.

“So, I saw it,” he started, squeezing the blanket in his arms into his chest. “I use that closet a lot, if you want to put it somewhere else.”

Jon winced and stood. As Martin let him pass, he mumbled, “Right. I’ll just-” 

And then Martin was left to sit back on the couch and wait, pausing the tape out of courtesy. 

When the skin had disappeared from the shower that first morning he hadn’t considered anything but Jon hiding it, and there was an awful satisfaction in knowing he was right. He rubbed his arm and stared at the blanket in his lap, still neat and folded. 

After a couple of minutes, Jon returned empty handed and resumed his seat. Pulling his blanket back up, he said, “It’s nothing… personal.”

“I know.” He took a deep breath and pressed play on the old remote, letting the child continue their new solo adventure. “I figured you hid it.”

“I appreciate that you told me.” His voice was stilted and unsure. “That you found it.”

“Sure, whatever helps.” Unfolding the blanket, he pulled it up to his shoulders and leaned on the arm rest. He could feel Jon fidgeting in place, turning the blanket so it faced the right way and making it tuck under him in the right places. Martin kept his eyes ahead.

Finally giving up on any further adjustments, Jon slouched into place. “It does help. I know my caution can come off as distrust, but genuinely I just… I need to keep it hidden. I need to know where it is and to be the only one who does. For now.”

“You… don’t need to justify anything.” Martin sighed and had to fight back a yawn. “It’s your coat.”

A grunt of frustration. “No, you don’t- It’s not a rational thing. I trusted you enough to tell you the truth, and yet I was barely into my first night here before I panicked and stowed it away.” He sat upright and let the blanket fall to his lap, quiet distress written across the lines of his forehead.

Grasping for words, Martin said, “You still haven’t known me that long. It’s not wrong to be careful.”

“That’s not the point,” Jon replied quietly, resting elbows on knees. “It hasn’t been all that long in the grand scheme of things, but a lot has happened. I consider you a friend. And yet I can’t stop feeling like everything is about to go wrong if I’m not careful.”

The hail continued to slam against the window, almost overpowering the sound of the television and the faun describing the witch’s plans. On the far side of the couch, Jon remained hunched over his own knees with his face bent in irritation. 

A wave of shame broke against him, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it. Carefully, Martin scooted over just enough to reach out a hand. His trembling fingers hovered just an inch away, brushing against the fabric of Jon’s shirt before coming to rest on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Jon whispered, massaging around his eyes with his fingers. He reached his free hand up to tentatively cover Martin’s, giving it a tiny squeeze. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Do you… want to keep watching?”

Jon nodded, shaking himself out a little. Martin released the gentle grip on his shoulder, though he didn’t move away. They both settled into the back of the couch and watched.

The child had gone back inside with the shivers, but no one was to be found. Around the halls she wandered, calling her siblings’ names with indignation that slowly turned to concern and then to fear. Eventually she was running, and it wasn’t until she was on the upper floor that one of her brothers popped out to scare the living daylights out of her. 

Deep down he remembered this part making him cry. Perhaps siblings weren’t worth it with how cruel children could be. 

Martin coughed. “You explored the sea as a kid, then?”

Jumping slightly, Jon said, “O-only a couple of times. And not far from the land. And it’s not as fun when you can only grab one thing at a time, with your mouth. I sorely missed my pockets and picking up sticks.” As he spoke, he resumed the more casual tone from before with modest success. 

“You thought checking out the sea with no real limits was too much of a hassle?”

With a roll of his eyes, Jon said, “It wasn’t entirely that. Eventually my grandmother warned me away from it. Told me about dangerous animals that absolutely weren’t native to the coast where we lived.” 

“Great white sharks?”

“Surrounding our seaside village on every watery side, ready to eat hapless little seal boys who didn’t listen to their nans.”

Martin chuckled, relaxing further into his seat and listening to Jon go on about all the ways his grandmother had tried and failed to reign him in. He could see it, a younger, scrappier version of the man next to him stomping around the woods and climbing fences. 

The instinct wasn’t all that relatable to someone like Martin who’d kept to the front porch on nice days, but it sounded like an adventure. Maybe it meant he was less likely to get eaten by an evil wardrobe out of the two of them. In his position he could only hope that was the case.

They called it for the night when, out of nowhere, a man suddenly appeared at half opacity screen and let out a screeching noise to close out an episode, making Jon laugh in a way that only could’ve been from exhaustion. 

Martin lingered downstairs for a while after they shut the television off. It was Friday, after all. For many reasons they couldn’t go out to a pub, but without the need to get up early he could afford to stay up a little longer and listen to a sleepy Jon talk over the tapping on the window panes.

--

Tim: not next weekend, but the one after i think. finally time to call it on preparation and get down to business, if this is something we can be prepared for

Martin: encouraging

Tim: look its been rough over here, alright? 

Martin: i know, sorry. itll be easier to talk once we’re all in one place 

Tim: yeah

Tim: things are ok over there, then? youre sounding better

Martin: ?

Tim: it was starting to get scary if im honest, how quiet you were

Martin: oh, sorry. things are fine, just didnt have a lot to say

Tim: yeah, i get it. its hard to fill the space. dont be a stranger though. in a few weeks we’ll be there to get you out of this mess

Martin: looking forward to it

Sighing, Martin looked from the private chat to Jon, who was ignoring his breakfast to type away at the laptop. “Sounds like the others are making plans to get here.”

Jon looked up briefly. “Good. It will be… nice to see them.”

“And show them you’re not dead?”

Ignoring this, Jon said, “How is Tim doing?”

He glanced back at his phone. “Worried. About a lot of things, I think.”

“Thinking of how he’s going to break my disappearance to you, no doubt,” he said, taking a sip of his tea. He avoided Martin’s eyes. “That’ll be resolved soon enough.”

Martin poked at the eggs on his plate. “He… lost someone, didn’t he?”

It was only for a moment, but Jon froze in the middle of setting his mug down. He seemed to struggle with an answer.

“It’s fine if you can’t say, but he implied as much,” Martin said gently.

With a frown, Jon shut the laptop. “Sasha knows more than I do, but yes. His brother, a few years ago.”

“Oh. That’s… really sad.” He leaned back in his chair. “He seems like he’d be a good brother.”

“I’m sure he was. He certainly looks out for us.” Jon took a bite of his toast.

“As best as he can,” Martin added sheepishly. 

“Once this is all finished he’s earned a vacation.”

Yes, they’d all given poor Tim their share of heart attacks. Martin had managed to several times in the last month. But at least when the time came Tim would see that both of them were alive and themselves and able to apologize for making his and Sasha’s lives just a bit harder than they needed to be.

Once it was all finished.

[krisdreaming]

9 | STORM

｢ Masterlist ｣

Pairing: Sawamura Daichi x gn!reader

Prompt: “Great, the power’s out because of the storm.” 

WC: 1.5k

A/N: I always forget how much of a soft spot I have for Daichi and how much I love writing for him ^^ There’s not much of a plot to this really but sometimes you just need a little fluff, y’know?

You look out the window at the snow swirling outside and frown to yourself. Any moment, you’re expecting your phone to light up with a message from Daichi, saying he’s not going to be able to make it tonight. You sigh. You’ve really been looking forward to tonight, too. After the past few weeks, you could really use a quiet night in with your boyfriend.

You wouldn’t say it’s been a bad few weeks, but they’ve certainly been full. The list of people you’ve had to buy and wrap presents for seemed never-ending. Between you and Daichi, you’ve been meeting with friends for dinner almost once a week. Then there were the countless family gatherings, making small talk all evening with relatives you barely know. You’d even met Daichi’s parents on Christmas Eve, which had been nerve-wracking, to say the least. He says they loved you, and you can only hope he’s right.

You’re startled from your thoughts by a knock at the door. You open it to reveal none other than your boyfriend. He stomps the remaining snow from his shoes and steps inside when you wave him in.

“I didn’t think you’d come!” You say dumbly as he kicks off his shoes by the door and pulls back his hood, revealing cheeks pink from the biting cold and blowing snow.

“Well, it was either come here or head home,” He lifts his hands in a comparing gesture, “So I figured I might as well come here like we planned. Your place is closer to work, anyway.” With that he leans in for a quick peck.

You can’t help but smile into it, just a little. Secretly, you’re glad he’d decided to come. But still - “You might not be able to get home tonight,” You warn.

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad,” He shrugs, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the smile that plays briefly across his lips.

“Hm,” All you can do is hum in response, turning away quickly so he doesn’t notice the goofy grin that’s tugging at your lips.

“Um, if that’s alright with you,” He tacks on, following behind you into the kitchen. You try your best to wipe the smile off of your face before you turn to look at him. You aren’t quite successful.

“Of course it’s alright,” You assure him quickly, and he relaxes at that. “But first things first, I think I’ll get started on dinner. Would you like some tea? Or coffee?” You can’t help but notice the way he rubs his hands down his arms, and before he can even answer, you busy yourself putting the kettle on the stove.

“Tea sounds perfect. Thanks,” He grins, easily stepping beside you to open the cupboard where you keep your tea. He’s been here often enough now that he knows his way around your apartment. You’re not sure if it’s that thought or the slight brush of his arm against yours that sends warmth curling through your middle.

You like evenings like this. He’ll stop in after work, stand in the kitchen and talk about his day and ask about yours as you prepare dinner. Occasionally, he’ll step in and help, the two of you working literally side by side in your tiny kitchen. It’s comfortable, and it’s become something of a routine for the two of you.

As he pours the now-boiling water over the tea in his mug, you begin chopping vegetables for the stew you’re making. For a day like today, you think it will be perfect. You look outside again. The snow doesn’t seem to have slowed down at all. If anything, it’s coming down faster. 

“It’s pretty nasty out there,” Daichi comments, taking a sip of his tea as he sidles up beside you, “Getting kind of windy, too.” As if in response, the light above the stovetop flickers, and you share a glance.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” You titter nervously, pouring oil into the pan and flicking the burner on just as the lights flicker off and stay off. You can’t help but let out a surprised squeak. Daichi pulls his phone from his pocket and turns on the flashlight, casting an eerie shadow back onto his face. 

“Well,” He chuckles, “I guess that’s that.”

“Maybe they’ll come back on?” You suggest, peering outside as if the swirling snow will spell out a solution. You’re silent for a few seconds testing the theory, but the longer you wait the less hopeful you are.

“I have some candles,” You finally sigh, and Daichi follows behind you with the light as you gather your Christmas candles and set them on the kitchen table, finding the lighter in one of the drawers and lighting them one by one. “Now what?” You look at him through the soft glow they emit.

“Well we’re not watching a movie, that’s for sure. We might have to actually talk to each other!” He holds the still-lit flashlight closer to his face, widening his eyes in mock horror. You snort out a laugh, giving his shoulder a shove.

“The horror,” You roll your eyes. “What about dinner, though?” You look around the kitchen at the chopped vegetables waiting on the cutting board and the pan on the stove, still cold. “I was really looking forward to that stew,” You sigh, willing your stomach not to growl at the thought.

“If I’d known, I could’ve stopped to pick something up,” Daichi muses, glancing around the kitchen.

“Too bad your psychic powers haven’t kicked in yet,” You giggle. “I guess…” You cross the kitchen and reach for what remains of your loaf of bread. “Sandwiches?” You ask haltingly, shooting him an apologetic look. “I think I have some kind of ham or turkey in the fridge. It’s nothing special, but-”

“That’s fine by me,” He says quickly. “Really, I’m not picky,” He chuckles.

“I know,” You sigh, “But I wanted to make something really good for dinner. I’m sorry,” You open the refrigerator resignedly, pulling out whatever sandwich fixings you can find.

“It’s not like it’s your fault,” Daichi reaches for the bread, “And besides, I like a good sandwich every now and then.” You can tell he’s doing his best to make you feel better, so you manage a grateful smile. Maybe it’s selfish at this point, but you’re glad he’s here.

You have to admit, the sandwiches you build aren’t half bad. With some chips you find in the cupboard, they make a half decent meal. You eat at the kitchen table by the candlelight.

“You know, I have to admit, I never really pictured myself eating sandwiches with you by candlelight,” Daichi chuckles, popping a chip in his mouth. “Steak, maybe,” He continues, “At some restaurant where I have to wear a tie. You know, the kind of place where the waiter brings the champagne with an engagement ring in the bottom.” You stop, your half-eaten sandwich halfway to your mouth. He must realize what he’d said at the same time that you do, because he reaches for the back of his neck. “Not that I’d propose to you that way. Not that I’m thinking of proposing to you. I mean. Well.” He finally stops himself with a sheepish grin.

You set your sandwich back down with a quiet chuckle. “I know what you mean,” You say softly, propping your chin on your fist and looking at him across the table. You think you understand a little better, now, why candlelight is always considered so romantic. It brings out a softness in his features, makes his warm smile even warmer. You feel a wave of affection well up inside you.

“Sorry,” He reaches for your hand and gives it the slightest squeeze. “Sometimes I just need to stop while I’m ahead. That’s what Suga says.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine.” You pause, something about the candlelight drawing out a thread of courage. “I think about it too,” You admit, “Candlelight dinners and that sort of thing, I mean. With you.” 

“Yeah?” He says softly. You nod. He shifts in his chair so that he can lean across the table, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You press back, and you can feel his lips curl up into a smile against yours. “Maybe we should do this more often, then,” He murmurs. 

You hum in agreement, sitting back but keeping your eyes on him. Your mind wanders to the warm knit blanket draped across the back of your sofa, just big enough for the two of you, and you find yourself hoping the power will stay off for just a little while longer.

[emospritelet]

Key to the Cell - chapter 18/18

Last time, Belle and Rumple plotted with the fairies to confront Blue and take the magic bean she was holding so that they could travel to the Land Without Magic. Here's what happened next

Special thanks to @woodelf68 for her many suggestions as to what Gaston's fate should be XD

[AO3]

x

Belle had settled herself in one of the chairs in Rumplestiltskin’s tower workroom, watching him brew his potions and tinker with small, silver trinkets. She tried to stay awake, but found her eyes closing, and woke what seemed like moments later to his hand on her shoulder, a fond look on his face.

“It’s almost dawn,” he said quietly. “We should return to the others.”

“I only closed my eyes for a moment,” she said, yawning, and he chuckled.

“Yes, hours ago. It’s good that you got some rest. With any luck this will be an eventful day.”

Belle pushed upright, stretching to work out the stiffness in her limbs. Rumplestiltskin had returned to the workbench, and was putting bottles of coloured liquid and items in brass and silver into a leather bag.

“What have you enchanted?” she asked, interested, and he glanced up.

“I have some locator spells, several items with reservoirs of magic, protection amulets…”

“Shouldn’t we pack some clothing, too?” she asked, and he grinned.

“The packs are already in the library,” he said. “I presumed you would want more breeches.”

“You presume correctly, these are really comfortable.” She stretched again, yawning as she pushed her fists towards the ceiling. “What about gold? I suppose we’ll need some sort of money in this new land.”

“I’ve packed some of that, too.”

“What do you know about the Land Without Magic?” she asked, and he pulled a face.

“Precious little,” he admitted. “I gathered as much information as I could about other lands, and the records of the travellers that went there, but given how difficult it is to travel to lands without magic, I wasn’t surprised when my search turned up almost nothing. Perhaps no one managed to reach it. Perhaps they did, and couldn’t return.”

“And you’re certain he’s there?” she asked.

“Yes.” He said it simply, as though there was no question in his mind. “Yes, I’m certain. He’s there, and I’ll find him."

Belle nodded, waking slowly around the room and listening to the click of her boot heels against the floor. Dawn was just starting to lighten the sky at the horizon, and she could feel nerves start to swell inside her. We will win this fight. We must.

“How are we going to stop the Blue Fairy and Gaston?” she asked. “I know the fairies have agreed that banishing her is the best way to go, but she’s still powerful, and we still have to be able to banish her before she can either escape or - or cast a spell on us all.”

“I’m leaving it to the fairies to decide how to handle one of their own,” he replied. “Any solution I come up with will, I suspect, be rather lethal.”

“I very much doubt they’ll kill her,” she agreed, and he grunted,

“Can’t have everything, I suppose.”

“What about Gaston?” she asked. “He may be a big-headed brute, but he’s not entirely stupid.”

Rumplestiltskin gave her a secretive little smile.

“Something tells me he will bring about his own demise,” he said.

“I’d still like to give him a chance to be a decent person,” she said. “I very much doubt he’ll take it, but you never know.”

“I assure you I do,” he remarked. “Do you still have the book you cast that spell on?”

“It’s in the library,” she said. “Wait, didn’t you cast a spell on it, too?”

“I didn’t cast a different spell, I merely - tweaked yours,” he said. “Make sure you have it with you.”

“The spell was only for defensive purposes,” she said.

“And so it remains,” he said lightly. “Providing he doesn’t attack us, he’ll be fine.”

Belle snorted under her breath, and Rumplestiltskin chuckled. She dismissed thoughts of Gaston; Rumplestiltskin was right, it was likely he would attack them, and therefore would seal his own fate.

“Do we have a way back to this land?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Travelling to a magical realm is far easier than to one without magic. I have a way back for us, if we choose to take it.”

“You’ve thought of everything.”

“I’ve certainly tried to,” he said, looking weary. “It’s hard to know what we will face in this new land. How do people manage without magic anyway?”

“I’ve managed almost my whole life,” she said. “As did you, before you became the Dark One.”

He grunted at that, fastening the straps of the leather bag.

“Yes, and a more wretched creature would have been hard to find.”

Belle reached out to put her hand over his, feeling his body almost humming with tension. He glanced up at her, and she smiled, squeezing his hand.

“I don’t believe you were anywhere near as wretched as you say,” she said. “From what you tell me, you were a desperate father who loved his son and tried to do your best to protect him. No matter how poor you may have been, that in itself shows you have more heart and more courage than any of the nobles who sent children to war.”

He gave her a sad smile, and shrugged.

“Whatever courage I had—and believe me it was little enough—deserted me when it came down to it, though,” he said quietly. “I let Bae go because I was afraid. How much must he have gone through, alone, because of that. How he must hate me.”

His voice had faded to a whisper, and Belle shook her head.

“He may be very angry,” she agreed. “But anger and hate are not the same thing. If he gives you the chance to apologise and explain, I’m sure you can make it right again. It just might take some time.”

Rumplestiltskin gave her another sad smile, as though he doubted it.

“And even if it takes years,” she went on. “We shall have a whole new land to explore. Imagine how much we shall learn!”

“Little of use to your studies as my apprentice,” he remarked.

“Perhaps not,” she conceded. “But there are other things you can teach me, I’m sure.”

He looked up sharply, and she gave him a coy smile that made him swallow hard.

“No doubt there are things we can teach each other,” she added. He returned the smile briefly, and then glanced away, his expression uncertain.

“I - uh - I shall look different, you know,” he said. “In this new land.”

Belle blinked.

“You will?”

“Without the curse,” he said. “Without magic, I shall appear as I once did.”

“You’ll look - like an ordinary man?”

“Indeed.” His tone was dry. “I’m not sure whether you will think that better or worse.”

Belle raised her chin.

“I think you’re very handsome,” she said. “I’m sure I shall continue to think so. Whether covered in these little golden scales or without.”

He chuffed at that.

“A very strange girl,” he muttered.

“I suspect you’ll look just as good in leather trousers,” she added, and he barked a laugh before gloom seemed to flow over him once more.

“It’s not only my face,” he said. “Before the curse, I was lame. An injury to my right leg. I healed it with magic, but before the Dark Curse, I couldn’t walk without aid.”

“Oh.” Belle chewed her lip, then brightened. “Well, at least I shan’t worry about slowing you down when we have to walk. We can move at a pace that’s easy for both of us. And I’m sure you can take a - a cane, or a staff of some sort to help you.”

“I have one in the Great Hall,” he said quietly. “It’s the one I used before. It has notches on the length where I used to mark Bae’s height. It works well enough as a walking staff. Perhaps he’ll recognise it.”

His head drooped a little, and Belle reached out to squeeze his hand again.

“It’s going to be fine,” she said softly. “You’ll find him.”

Rumplestiltskin sighed, letting out a heavy breath, and nodded.

“I know.”

He patted one of the bags, and glanced across at her again.

“We’d better get down there,” he said quietly. “It’s time.”

-

When they reached the library, the fairies were awake and alert, gathered together in a circle and whispering. Rumplestiltskin had collected the staff he needed from the Great Hall, and Belle eyed it curiously as he leaned it against one of the chairs. It was a plain wooden staff, worn smooth where it had been gripped, and notches marked it, scattered along its length from around the halfway point. The record of Baelfire’s height as he grew. It made Belle’s heart clench, and she hoped that her husband would soon be reunited with the son he loved so dearly.

Rumplestiltskin made the pallets and blankets disappear with a flick of his fingers, and the fairies hurried towards him, the dwarfs standing at the edge of the room, hands on axes and stern expressions on their faces.

“It’s almost dawn,” said Nova. “We think Blue will be here soon, and we’ve all agreed what we’re going to do.”

“Do tell,” said Rumplestiltskin, tapping his fingers together.

“We need to take her by surprise and cast a binding spell,” said Tink. “Tiger Lily is the strongest of us, so she’ll cast the spell. The rest of us will cast a net to keep her from disappearing off to the fairy realms. She’ll be trapped until we banish her.”

“We’ll need you to hide us from her sight, though,” added Tiger Lily. “She’ll sense our magic the moment she enters the castle. If she suspects anything, I’m worried she’ll fly off and we’ll lose our chance.”

And we will lose the magic bean, thought Belle. The only chance for Rumple to find Bae. That can’t happen.

“I can shield you from her until it’s time,” agreed Rumplestiltskin.

“We want her to confess to what she’s done,” added Tiger Lily. “It would certainly strengthen our hand when we report back to the Council.”

“And if she doesn’t?” asked Belle.

“If we can recover any other items she took, that would help,” said Nova.

“What about taking the bean from her?” asked Rumplestiltskin. “There’s no deal without using the bean, as I’m sure you recall.”

“We remember the terms of the deal,” said Nova. “The bean will be taken from her, and used for her banishment. She’s taken enough of our treasures, after all.”

The other fairies nodded agreement, murmuring about stolen wands and confiscated artifacts. Rumplestiltskin gave a brisk nod.

“Very well,” he said. “When it’s done, and Lady Belle and I have left, the defences I put up around the Dark Castle will fall into place. I suggest you all leave without delay once we are through the portal. Five minutes should do it, just make sure you’re clear of the gates.”

“Understood,” said Nova. “We have enough dust between us to make a decent portal back to the fairy realms.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded, clapping his hands together.

“Then it’s agreed,” he said. “Let’s see what our intruders are up to, shall we?”

He nodded to Belle, who immediately retrieved the magic mirror and held it up.

“I’d like to see the Blue Fairy, please,” she said.

The image was once more of a tent interior, Gaston pacing back and forth with shoulders hunched and hands clasped behind his back, his red doublet stretched across his wide shoulders and his heavy boots thumping on the ground. The Blue Fairy appeared to have just entered the tent; a brief view of the pinkish horizon broken by dark, craggy mountains showed as the flap closed behind her. Gaston paused in his pacing, turning to face her.

“My men are in position,” he growled. “They’re at the western gate, as you suggested. I don’t see any defenders lining up to keep them out. This should be an easy conquest.”

“The Dark One has no need of soldiers,” she said. “I hope your men are obedient. If they break into the castle grounds before we have subdued the Dark One, we’ll have a massacre on our hands.”

“They’ll wait,” he said curtly. “It seems like all we’ve been doing is waiting. When do we enter the castle? Dawn has come, you said we’d attack at dawn.”

“And so we shall.” Blue lifted her wand. “It’s time. Come, stand near me. I’ll take us into the library. Once we’re inside you must wait there until I return from the fairy realms.”

Gaston shouldered a quiver of arrows and grasped his bow, putting his other hand on the hilt of his sword. The Blue Fairy shook her head.

“You’ll have no need of those weapons,” she said. “The Dark One cannot enter the library. Nor can he be hurt by swords or arrows. Magic is the way to defeat him.”

“A man likes the comfort of hard steel in his hand,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.

“Suit yourself.”

“A warrior knows to prepare himself for all possible outcomes to battle,” he went on. “What if your magic fails you? What if your wand is taken? How will you defend yourself against the creature then?”

Blue smiled sweetly, one hand slipping to her belt in what seemed to be an unconscious motion.

“I suggest you leave those concerns to me, and consider your own part in this,” she said. “Your bride will no doubt be waiting for you. Quickly, now. Take my hand, and I’ll take you inside the castle.”

Belle put down the mirror, glancing at Rumplestiltskin.

“They’re coming,” he announced. “Fairies, dwarfs, stay on that side of the room.”

He waved a hand, and Belle watched as the band of fairies and dwarfs were hidden behind a shimmering curtain of light. It solidified, the light winking out, and she blinked as the room looked empty apart from the two of them. Recalling Rumplestiltskin’s words in the tower, she hurriedly looked around for her enchanted book, spying it on one of the small tables and snatching it up.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered.

She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but then nodded slowly. A tingling in her skin, a pleasant feeling that spread through her body.

“Light magic,” he breathed. “Be ready.”

She nodded, hugging the book to her chest, and jumped as a portal opened with a flare of blue light, Gaston stumbling a little as he and the Blue Fairy appeared in the centre of the room.

“Well well,” said Rumplestiltskin, in a nasty drawl. “My library has certainly suffered in my absence. Look at the vermin that have slithered inside.”

Blue’s mouth and eyes widened in shock, and he gave her an unpleasant smile.

“Now!” shouted Nova.

There was a flash of red light, knocking Blue’s wand from her hand. Shining ropes in a myriad of colours snaked towards her through the air, wrapping around her and pinning her arms to her sides, and she struggled desperately, a furious look on her face. Gaston had drawn his sword, turning on the spot as though unsure who to attack first, and there was a collective roar from the dwarfs as they barrelled towards him from behind the barrier. He managed to parry the first axe-blow, and the second, but eight against one was only ever going to have one outcome. Grumpy’s axe knocked his sword from his hands and the dwarfs swarmed over him. By the time he was hauled to his feet, the weapons had been stripped from him and he was scowling heavily, blood flowing from a split lip and a heavy red welt over one eye. His brows lowered as he saw Belle by Rumplestiltskin’s side.

“Get away from that beast, you foolish girl!” he snarled, and Rumplestiltskin smirked.

“Careful how you address my wife,” he said, emphasising the words. It made Belle’s heart thump harder.

“Belle is mine!” roared Gaston, struggling against his captors. “We’re betrothed! You will give her back to me, or—”

He cut off, appearing to choke around an invisible gag, and Rumplestiltskin gave him a nasty smile. Gaston’s mouth worked furiously, his face reddening, but Rumplestiltskin had already turned away, focusing his attention on Blue. She had drawn herself up to her full height within the magical bonds, her nostrils flaring with outrage as her eyes flicked between the fairies, as though memorising each face.

“You will all pay dearly for this!” she hissed. “When the Council finds out you aided the Dark One—”

“When the Council finds out you were imprisoning your sisters without even a pretence at a trial, what do you think they’ll say?” asked Tiger Lily coldly. “How many children have been without the guidance of their fairy godmothers in our absence? What damage has been wrought from that loss?”

Her eyes flicked to Rumplestiltskin and away, fixing on Blue.

“You ought to be condemned for that alone,” she said. “Meddling in the affairs of countless generations for your own ends. Pitting fairy against fairy in your quest for control. Not to mention that you’ve been keeping and using magical objects for your own purposes. Search her!”

Blue squawked in outrage as Tink and Nova began searching her belt pouch and the pockets of her dress. The contents were laid out next to her wand on a nearby table. A gilt-edged book, a slim dagger in a pearl-covered sheath, a crystal vial with a stopper in cut sapphire, and a small purse in battered brown leather. Belle watched as Rumplestiltskin’s eyes fixed on it.

“You have no right to do this!” spluttered Blue. “You are interfering in important diplomatic affairs!”

“If you’re referring to Sir Gaston wanting to abduct me and force me into a marriage against my will, I welcome their interference,” said Belle coldly. “This castle belongs to my husband, and to me through my marriage to him. You are not welcome here, either one of you. You are intruders with hostile intent, and the law of the land is clear on what we are entitled to do with you. Be grateful that we have allowed your sisters to decide your fate rather than erect a gibbet in the courtyard.”

Rumplestiltskin eyed her with a look of pride, and she raised her chin, staring down her nose at her would-be captors.

“Do not quote the law of the land to me, you foolish girl!” snapped Blue. “I should think you would be happy to be rescued from a marriage to this - this monster!”

“He’s no monster, you are!” said Belle hotly. “We entered this marriage as equals! He doesn’t see me as property or - or as a pawn to be used. We wish to be left alone to live our lives in peace!”

“Peace with the Dark One?” Blue burst into cold, humourless laughter. “You’re a gullible fool to believe his lies! I see the beast has used that silver tongue of his to excellent effect with you.”

“Well, it is our honeymoon,” said Rumplestiltskin in a drawling tone, and Belle shot him a quelling look before turning back to Blue.

“I don’t care if you think I’m gullible,” she said. “I have always prided myself on looking beyond appearances, and I believe I understand Rumplestiltskin a good deal better than you.”

Blue closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as though trying to calm herself. When she opened her eyes again, she was smiling sweetly. It made Belle’s skin crawl.

“Whatever the Dark One has been telling you about me is untrue, you know,” she said gently. “You must know that dark creatures cannot be trusted. They do not think or feel as you and I do. Their purpose is chaos and destruction. They cannot love.”

“Oh, we can, you know,” said Rumplestiltskin quietly.

“I’m sure that creatures of darkness can love just as well as we can,” said Belle coldly. “The ogres went to war against these lands because Sir Gaston here tortured one of their children. They can feel and think as deeply as we, and those claiming to be creatures of light can just as easily do evil.”

“That’s right, sister!” said Grumpy. “She told me dwarfs can’t love either, that what I felt for Nova was a lie! She’s the liar!”

The Blue Fairy sighed.

“Really, I try my hardest to do the best I can for the good of all, and this is the thanks I get.”

“You imprisoned us,” said Tiger Lily sternly. “From our search of your belongings, I can see that you have the Book of Alanor, which was thought to be lost.”

“I was holding onto it for safekeeping,” said Blue stiffly.

“And this?” Tiger Lily picked up the crystal vial. “What is it?”

Blue pursed her lips, looking away, and Tink took the stopper out of the vial and sniffed cautiously before pulling back and wrinkling her nose.

“It’s dark magic!” she exclaimed. “Ugh! Why carry a potion made with dark magic? And why disguise it like this?”

“Let me see that,” said Rumplestiltskin sharply, and snatched the bottle from her before sniffing in turn. His eyebrows jerked in surprise.

“What is it?” asked Belle.

“It’s poison,” he said, and replaced the stopper in the vial with care, placing it back on the table before stepping back with his hands raised. “A rather deadly poison, I believe. Enquiring minds might wonder where, how and why an alleged creature of light procured such a thing.”

“You don’t get to question me, Dark One!” snapped Blue.

“A stolen book,” said Tiger Lily, her tone clear. “The use of poison created by dark magic. Mass incarceration of innocent fairies...” She opened up the leather pouch, and a bean fell out, gleaming white against the polished wood of the table. “And this. The concealment of a magic bean.”

The fairies exclaimed loudly, as though finding the bean were a surprise to them, and Blue glared around the room.

“I have been holding this bean for important reasons!” she snapped. “The fact that none of the Council saw fit to trust any of you with those reasons is hardly my fault!”

“And the Council will corroborate your story, will they?” asked Tiger Lily. “Those you haven’t been able to bully or browbeat into doing what you want, anyway. If we were to call Nebula here and ask about these important secret reasons, would she be able to confirm that she was fully aware that you had the bean and the Book of Alanor?”

Blue pursed her lips, looking away, and Tiger Lily turned to the other fairies, her expression determined, dark eyes steady and stern.

“We’ve all seen the evidence,” she said. “I believe the Blue Fairy is not fit to lead. What say you?”

“Agreed!” chorused the fairies.

“This is outrageous!” spluttered Blue.

“I believe that the Blue Fairy is a danger to our order,” went on Tiger Lily. “I believe that she should be banished until such time as we can be sure she is no longer a threat. What say you?”

“Agreed!”

“This is a disgrace!” fumed Blue. “When the Council hears of this—”

“All in favour of banishment?” called Tiger Lily.

All the fairies raised their hands, fists in the air. Rumplestiltskin raised both of his and got a level look from Tiger Lily in return.

“Then it is agreed,” she said. “And so we come to the Blue Fairy’s accomplice.”

The Blue Fairy was still talking, uttering threats and making dire predictions about what would happen to the fairies, and Tiger Lily gave an impatient wave of her wand. The noise cut off in an instant, and Blue glared furiously.

“I’ll deal with Sir Gaston,” said Belle.

Tiger Lily bowed her head in acquiescence, stepping back, and Belle glanced at Rumplestiltskin.

“Rumple, could you let him speak?” she asked. “Grumpy, could you and your brother let him up, please? I want to talk to him.”

Rumplestiltskin flicked his fingers, and Gaston coughed several times before scowling at them.

“You sure about this?” asked Grumpy in a gruff tone. “This one looks like he could cause some trouble.”

“Let him up,” repeated Belle. “I want to give him a chance.”

“A chance?” Gaston glared at the dwarfs holding his arms. “I need no chances! Just hand me my sword and fight me one-on-one!”

“You can stand as long as you promise not to try to harm anyone,” said Belle coolly. “Otherwise we can have this conversation with you tied hand and foot. If you stay calm, we’ll think about letting you up.”

“I am calm!” snapped Gaston, scowling, but shrugged. “Fine, have it your way! I swear not to try to harm these - upstart miners.”

“Can we gag him again?” asked one of the dwarfs.

Belle bit her lip, trying not to laugh, and motioned to them to let Gaston go. He straightened up, folding huge arms across his chest and glaring.

“So,” he said. “You take the side of this beast over your own kind!”

“He’s not a beast, he’s my husband,” said Belle coldly.

“Husband!” sneered Gaston. “That marriage could be annulled with the stroke of a pen! The idea that a noblewoman could be held to any promise made to this - this thing - is ridiculous! He’s the Dark One! He’s not human! He didn’t even speak the proper vows! You will return with me and become my wife as was agreed!”

“I can’t marry you when I’m already married!” she said sharply. “Besides, I wouldn’t. Given the choice I’d rather marry one of the ogres than you!”

“They certainly have a more progressive view of female property rights,” remarked Rumplestiltskin.

“I wasn’t talking to you, imp!” snapped Gaston.

“He’s still right, though,” said Belle. “And I have no intention of breaking my marriage vows to my husband over a betrothal that wasn’t even my choice.”

“Plus annulment is out of the question,” added Rumplestiltskin. “We consummated the marriage.”

“Several times,” said Belle lightly.

Gaston’s face was growing redder by the moment, and Belle could sense that he was working himself up to losing his temper in spectacular fashion.

“I will not return with you, Gaston,” she said. “I will not marry you. There is no future that involves you and I and it is ludicrous to think there will be.”

Gaston opened his mouth angrily, but she kept on.

“By breaking into the Dark One’s castle you have made him your enemy,” she said, “and while as his wife I like to think I have some influence, I cannot and will not guarantee your safety. If you value your life you will leave this place and never return.”

“My men are outside,” he said grimly. “Hundreds of them, all armed to the teeth. One word from me and they will storm this castle and kill anyone they find.”

“I could kill them with a flick of my little finger,” said Rumplestiltskin in a bored voice. “You really ought to try threats that have some basis in reality. Takes all the fun out of a slaughter.”

Gaston’s jaw jutted forward as he clenched his fists.

“I am offering you your life,” said Belle clearly. “In return for leaving me and my husband in peace.”

“Those are really very generous terms,” said Rumplestiltskin cheerfully. “Given the chance I’d have pulled your kneecaps off and waved them in front of you.”

Belle wanted to sigh, but kept her attention on Gaston, who was looking as though he had eaten something that disagreed with him.

“Do you agree to our terms?” asked Belle.

“I’m just supposed to put up with the rest of the kingdom laughing at me behind my back for the rest of my days, am I?” he demanded.

“You can always choose death,” said Rumplestiltskin, with a lazy swirl of one hand. “That might be preferable to ridicule to one of your type.”

“Death.” Gaston lowered his head, shoulders slumping. “Sometimes death is the only way to restore honour.”

Belle felt her eyes widen in alarm.

“You don’t need to die,” she said sharply. “There’s no need for violence. Just leave us in peace!”

There was a moment of silence. The air was heavy with tension, and Belle could feel her heart thumping, her skin tingling. Gaston raised his head, eyes gleaming malevolently as he let out a hollow chuckle.

“Oh, I didn’t mean me,” he growled.

Leaping forward, he snatched up the small dagger from the table top and lunged at Belle. Rumplestiltskin stepped in front of her, raising a hand to hurl a spell, but before he could do so there was a flash of purple smoke from the book in her arms and a crackle of energy that made her hair want to stand on end. The sound of a scream made Belle duck, holding the book in front of her like a shield, and only the comforting feel of Rumplestiltskin’s hand on her shoulder made her straighten up and open her eyes.

The smoke was clearing, the fairies and dwarfs clustered together, wide-eyed and clamouring in outrage over the attack on Belle. Gaston had disappeared, the dagger he had snatched falling to the floor with a tinkling sound, and in his place was a sturdy grey donkey. Gaston’s heavy leather belt hung around its neck and it trotted backwards, hooves clattering against the floorboards before it turned in a circle, a bewildered look in its eyes.

“Is - is that Gaston?” asked Belle, and Rumplestiltskin smirked.

“A fitting punishment, wouldn’t you say?” he said, briefly inspecting the palm of his hand before rubbing it on his thigh. “Since he had so little respect for the peasants on his land, I thought he would do well to work for them. Perhaps we can send him to the sister of that maid of yours. Gerta, is it?”

The donkey brayed loudly, ears flattening as it showed large, surprisingly white and even teeth, and Belle hid a smile behind her hand.

“Will - will he always be a donkey?” she asked, and Rumplestiltskin shrugged.

“That’s very much up to him,” he said. “If he has true remorse for his past actions, the spell will lift. If not, I’m afraid he’ll be hauling water and carrying goods to market for the rest of his miserable life.” He leaned close to the donkey. “I can see the future,” he whispered. “Better get used to a bridle.”

He straightened up, and with a flick of his fingers the donkey disappeared in a cloud of red smoke. Rumplestiltskin looked pleased with himself, tapping his fingers together as he turned back to face Blue with an unpleasant grin.

“Now,” he said. “Where were we?”

“You can’t banish me,” said Blue loftily, ignoring Rumplestiltskin as she favoured the fairies with a frosty glare. “None of you has the strength to strip me of my magic, and if you think I’m going to kick my heels in some far-off kingdom while you mess things up for all of fairykind, you’re gravely mistaken.”

Tiger Lily stepped forward, and reached for the magic bean. It gleamed as she held it up, a tiny point of white light, and Blue’s eyes widened in shock.

“You wouldn’t dare!” she breathed.

“Rheul Ghorm,” intoned Tiger Lily. “From this moment forth you are banished from the Enchanted Forest.”

“Don’t do this!” snapped Blue. “It’s what the Dark One wants, can’t you see that? He’s played you all for fools! I’m the only one who can stand against him!”

“I hope you take time to reflect on the harm you have done and the pain you have caused,” went on Tiger Lily, as though she hadn’t spoken, “and that you use this opportunity to build a new and better life.”

“Try to be nicer,” added Nova.

“I will return, you mark my words!” said Blue heatedly. “I will return, and when I do, you will all pay for this!”

“Rumplestiltskin,” said Tiger Lily, turning to him and holding out the bean. “I believe this concludes our deal.”

She dropped the bean into his palm, and Rumplestiltskin grinned widely. He nodded to Belle, who hurriedly grabbed the packs he had stowed. Holding up a hand, he gestured towards his staff, and it wobbled against the chair before slamming into his palm. Rumplestiltskin held up the bean and closed his eyes. Belle could see his lips moving, as though he was whispering a prayer. Or a promise. She edged closer to him, closing her eyes in turn, and willed the magic to take them to his son. Lead us to Baelfire. Let us find him.

She felt rather than heard the portal open, a wave of pressure that washed over her and stole the breath from her lungs. Her eyes flew open as a ripple of green energy burst outwards, a dark hollow at its centre, a churning whirlpool of magic. Blue was staring at the portal in horror, and seemed to say something, but it was snatched away in the tumult. She was trying to edge away from it, but Rumplestiltskin picked up a foot and shoved at the small of her back, and she disappeared into the void with a fading scream. Rumplestiltskin turned to Belle, taking one of the packs from her and shouldering it before grasping her hand. His smile was tremulous, fear and anxiety and rising hope, and she smiled back, squeezing his hand.

“Let’s go and find Baelfire,” she said.

He nodded, and turned back to the portal, seeming to steel himself before taking a step. Belle closed her eyes, foot lifting to follow him, and felt her body seized by an immense force as she was dragged from the castle into the void.

-

Before she had time to process how it felt to be inside a magical whirlpool, she hit what seemed like hard earth with a thump. Winded, she rolled onto her back, wriggling her left arm to dislodge the pack, and stared up at the sky as she tried to catch her breath. It was dark, and the stars were shining, pinpricks against darkest blue beyond a stream of blue and purple that stretched across the sky, scattered with countless points of light, thousands of stars. Stars she had never seen before. It was breathtakingly beautiful. She realised it was cold, too, bitterly so, and the ground beneath her hands was wet and soft. There was a familiar scent in the air, pine resin and leaf mulch. They were in a forest.

“Belle?”

Relief flooded over her at the sound of Rumplestiltskin’s voice, that low voice he used when they were intimate, when it was just the two of them.

“Fuck!” he growled, and that made her push up on her elbows.

She was lying on the ground in the midst of a forest, thick pine needles and leaf litter having cushioned her fall somewhat. There was snow on the ground, adding a wan, bluish light to the scene, but there was no moon. Perhaps this world didn’t have a moon. Rumplestiltskin was a hunched figure kneeling next to her, amongst the black trunks of what looked like fir trees. It was too dark to see his face.

“Keep forgetting I can’t use bloody magic!” he grumbled. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” she said. “Is this it? Are we here?”

He pushed up onto his knees, looking around.

“Well, we’re certainly in the Land Without Magic,” he said dryly. “In the woods. By some sort of road, if I’m not mistaken. Let’s have a look, shall we?”

He held out a hand, and made to rise before crying out and falling to the floor again.

“What is it?” asked Belle anxiously, and he shook his head.

“Forgot about my bloody leg, too,” he said. “No matter, that’s what the staff is for.”

He managed to get the staff into position and pushed to his feet, but he was limping badly, and Belle thought he might do better with a shorter cane, as her late uncle had once used.

“Perhaps we should rest,” she said. “We could make a fire.”

“Let’s just get to the road and see what we can see,” he said. “It’s only beyond the trees.”

It sounded as though he was grimacing, and Belle hoped that wherever they were in this new land, it wasn’t too far from a town. The trees cleared, and they stepped onto the edge of a well-maintained road. Belle bent to touch it curiously. Its surface was hard and relatively smooth compared to the ground beside it, but it wasn’t paved or cobbled, and it wasn’t simply packed earth. It stretched away into the distance, winding through the trees to the right as though the forest went on forever. To the left, a sign was standing at the side of the road: Welcome to Storybrooke, it read.

Rumplestiltskin and Belle shared a glance. Her eyes were getting used to the dark, and she could almost make out his features, starlight gleaming on the lines of his nose and cheekbones.

“Storybrooke,” she said. “That must be where we need to go.”

“Yes.” He looked beyond the sign, down the road to the town. “That’s where he is. We’re going to find my son. We’re going to find my Bae.”

[fictionplumis]

I’m gonna have to write a fic for this pairing, aren’t I? 

Nevermind the fact I still haven’t finished my Eddie/Venom/Flash one yet and I can never just write a short fic, no, it has to be a Thing and I always go for the really small pairings.

I just have a lot of feelings about the concept of coming to know yourself through your shadow, and let’s face it, Roche and Iorveth are each other’s shadows. All the qualities they hate about each other are the same things that personally drive them. 

And it’s true for both of them but I just keep sticking on Roche for some reason, the loyal Temerian Hound, who committed a lot of wrongs at the order of a king who saved him, and then lost that king, and, uh... 

Look, I’ll be honest, I haven’t played the second game so I’m not too clear on what happens with Saskia and Vergen and Henselt (besides the fact he’s shit and Roche kills him, spoiler alert I guess), so I can’t really say how all that ties in to where he ends up in the third game, but in the third game he’s in a pretty shit situation, doesn’t seem all that concerned with the Socia’tael anymore, and is more than willing to kill Radovid for the sake of Temeria. I’m assuming the general idea is that Anais will take over the throne, and then what? 

What does Roche do from there? 

He has the blood of two kings on his hands and Emhyr isn’t exactly the kind of man to give into his promises without some kind of backhanded result. Making a deal with him is like the damn Monkey’s Paw, and it wouldn’t really be smart of any ruler to give Roche a position of power in a court. 

So we have a man who’s known nothing but war and following the orders of his king, who has decided one of his first acts WITHOUT orders is to kill another king for his country, and then really has no place in that country afterwards. 

We could obviously go down the PTSD and depression route very easily here, but I’m not the kind of person to just settle on that and Vernon Roche probably isn’t either. Now that he has no ties, it’s time for this bitch to go find himself. 

And maybe that means just wandering aimlessly for a little bit. 

And maybe that means coming across some wayward elves getting harassed. 

Roche, naively maybe, had thought that with Nilfgaard taking over, shit like that would have stopped. It was supposed to stop. The elves are allowed wherever they wish now, so long as they behave, and these ones clearly aren’t Socia’tael or the people harassing them would have been long dead. And that’s how Roche finds himself helping Aen Seidhe refugees under an alias and realizing how much of an absolute shit lord he had been. 

I know some people like to have it where Roche doesn’t hate non-humans, he just did it because he was ordered, but shit like that tends to be a bit more engrained. When you’re around someone, ADMIRE that someone, and they’re so flippantly disregarding the lives of people they consider OTHER, it rubs off. Roche is not immune to propaganda, nor is he necessarily a good person since there’s really no such thing. There’s just people, who sometimes try their best and sometimes don’t, and who sometimes change and sometimes don’t. 

So here we have Roche realizing the hate he felt for these people was never really his own. There’s nothing here to hate. The Socia’tael, yeah, maybe, but not the innocents he drove from their lands and sometimes killed if they didn’t obey Foltest’s ordinances. 

So he does a Personal Growth, which both makes him feel shitty and wrecked with guilt, and also makes him determined to help and be Better. 

And then fucking Iorveth shows up and nearly blows his cover to shit.

At this point, it’s still okay to hate the Socia’tael for Roche, because they’re war criminals and gods dammit, if he can be better, then so can Iorveth, Iorveth just chooses not to. But whatever, Roche has officially decided that he’s not going to pick a murderous fight over this because he’s not that kind of person anymore and it’s not his job to enforce the rules. He’s helping now. 

But, uh. Roche can have a little fistfight sometimes. As a treat. Because Iorveth’s face is very punchable and Iorveth is his usual haughty, smug self who takes way too much amusement from Vernon fucking Roche helping elven refugees. 

Only he’s not just very amused, he’s only amused to pissed off Roche, reality is he’s pretty confused and suspicious of this. Because HE would never go off and help dh’oine no matter how bad off they are, so obviously Roche wouldn’t go off and help Aen Seidhe without some ulterior motive. 

Iorveth bides his time and somehow manages to find a time that’s ripe for Talking. Not the goading shit-talking they do, but like an actual TALK. It maybe starts out as an interrogation, but Roche doesn’t raise to the bait like Iorveth assumes and then Roche is all sincere about shit that happens to relate a lot to what Iorveth has been feeling too, and oh gods damn it all, now he’s sympathizing with Vernon Roche. Empathizing, even.

Iorveth hates it. 

Roche doesn’t seem to particularly care how it makes Iorveth feel and Iorveth hates that too. 

Overall he regrets he even asked.

Then something something something they have to do a Thing together. I don’t know the exact details, probably has to do with displaced elves. 

Let’s just say Nilfgaard hasn’t fully conquered the North yet, like they’re almost there, it’s in that stage where they technically occupy the area but there’s a lot of unrest and certain people (racists) aren’t very keen on certain rules (rules telling them not to be racist) so they’re causing Problems about it. 

Maybe they get wind that there are some Witch Hunters holding a decent amount of elves hostage, but not quite enough for Nilfgaard to bother with them, so Roche is like, sure, okay, I’ve been getting better at this whole sneaky sneak thing, I’ll go sneak the elves out. And Iorveth is obviously not letting Roche go do that alone, because it’s Roche, and Iorveth still wants to be suspicious of him and doesn’t like him, and someone needs to be there to actually rescue the elves if Roche dies, also he kind of wants to see Roche die (he doesn’t, but semantics) so he goes. 

The sneaky sneak plan fails, go figure. And here’s where I might have to twist canon a bit because how well known is it that Roche helped plot against Radovid? Dunno, but we’re gonna say not too many people actually know, just those in power. And Temeria is established and under Nilfgaard, but Roche isn’t in a position of power there and when the sneaky sneak plan fails, he’s not wearing any indication that he’s WITH Temeria. So say someone that knows him from his Blue Stripes days sees him and they’re like, huh. Vernon Roche hates non-humans and didn’t immediately ally himself with Temeria and Nilfgaard. Clearly this is an ally. 

So at first getting caught is sort of fine, because now he’s making awkward conversation with a racist and getting introduced to other racists but no one is trying to kill him so like. Okay. Could be worse. 

And then the alarm sounds because Iorveth was spotted and they drag Roche to go corner him. 

Iorveth is fully expecting Roche to keep up his little ploy and he can’t even say he blames Roche, because it’s a good way to sneak in and save people, IF Roche isn’t seriously considering going back to being a shit lord just because it’s convenient. They’re pretty out numbered. Fighting would be a bad idea. Iorveth is still pissed, obviously, and feels betrayed, and he plans on giving Roche no end of shit about this later even if he DOES use the position to save the elves. 

Only Roche curses under his breath and turns his sword on the nearest Witch Hunter and all hell breaks loose. For the first time Iorveth finds himself fighting WITH Roche instead of against him. 

And it’s kind of fun. 

Just as thrilling. 

And they actually turn out to be a very deadly team together. 

So they rescue the elves and have every intention of escorting them back to the refugee camp they know of when they’re told about the camp these elves came from. One that was attacked by Witch Hunters. It’s a thing they’re doing now, kidnapping elves and destroying refugee places. So instead they point the elves in the direction of the camp they came from since the roads are all clear, and they go on their little crusade to save elves. 

And along the way they learn stuff about each other. 

Roche learns more about elves in general, and the uncultured swine actually starts finding himself more and more fascinated by the deep complexity and emotional connection to the world they have. He envies it, even, because even when Iorveth has nothing, he has that connection. Roche has only ever had Temeria and now, well. Only himself, really, and he’s still trying to figure out what to do with that. 

Iorveth takes the slightest amount of pity for the useless dh’oine, because the idea of not having that connection, that thing to moor him down, sounds intolerable. How do humans survive without that? So he starts making a half-assed (or at least he tells himself it’s half-assed) effort to help Roche recognize the natural world around him a bit more and have more respect for it. 

It’s the fact that Roche is TRYING, genuinely TRYING that really makes Iorveth feel a certain way. 

And he opens up a bit about himself, his past, why he joined with the Socia’tael, and after seeing everything he’s seen, and what he’s STILL seeing, Roche starts understanding it a bit more. The actions of desperate people pushed to the edge, what they do when diplomacy fails, when assimilation means death, the tactics they resort to because there is no fair fight otherwise. 

Now he can’t hate the Socia’tael either. He can’t even dislike them. Hell, he even finds himself admiring them. 

And Iorveth learns about humans. 

Nothing groundbreaking, exactly. Not about the species as a whole, anyway. Maybe that they’re capable of change, which is pretty revolutionary in his mind, and sometimes they stop into places and Iorveth sees that some humans do, indeed, have compassion for things that aren’t exactly like them. 

The most interesting and useful thing he learns is that human body hair isn’t that bad and against what he would have assumed, he actually kind of likes it? Especially the stubble that Roche can never seem to entirely shave off in the morning--because it turns out Roche is actually pretty cleanly for a human when he has regular access to be. 

The texture and burn of it scraping at his skin is nice, okay? It’s new and nice and maybe he can understand why there are so many mixed-elves running about despite how awkwardly bulky and clumsy dh’oine are. Also they’re warm. And, at least in Roche’s case, large. So yeah. He’ll concede the point that they make good bedpartners, and that’s ALSO something Iorveth learns about humans. 

[vanhelsingenthusiast]

.... Omg! Can you please give us analysis of each character and how they are portrayed in the book and then the movies?

Oohh ok! (I’m just gonna go thru the characters and how they are in the book vs how they are usually portrayed in adaptations. These things do not apply to every single adaptation, or even necessarily one specific adaptation, full disclosure, lol) (also this will be very long, so, it’s under the cut.) 

Mina: 

~ In the book: kind, sweet, caring, motivated, intelligent, interesting, funny. I could go on and on. The protagonist. She IS the moment. She could defeat Dracula without the men but the men could not defeat Dracula without her. I said what I said. 

~ In adaptations: typically kind, but may or may not be any more intelligent than the men. Typically portrayed as a damsel in distress, though in the book she isn’t. Almost always Dracula’s love interest. Sometimes she even low-key betrays the Crew to help him. Her personality is very often reduced to one or two traits/archetypes so she can better fit the role of Dracula’s love interest. 

Jonathan: 

~ In the book: Damsel in distress. He can sometimes come across as boring, because he’s the only very average person in the book, but that’s because he’s supposed to be. It’s a compare and contrast type of thing. Even then, he’s incredibly brave, and incredibly determined. He represents the average person, rising up to the challenge. 

~ In adaptations: oh, Jonathan?? You mean the only reason why Mina and Dracula can’t bone??? Yeah but it’s fine if Mina cheats a little bc also he’s an asshole for no reason ://// 

Lucy: 

~ In the book: A delight. Absolute angel. Everyone loves her and she loves everyone but not always in the way they want. If she could she would move all of her friends into a little cottage and bake bread and make tea for them for the rest of forever. Part of the reason why her transformation into the Bloofer Lady is so scarring is because she was genuinely so good-hearted before that. 

~ In adaptations: lol she has three suitors so she must be suuuuper promiscuous (side note: not a bad thing but most adaptations portray it as such), and also because of that she definitely wanted Dracula to turn her into a vampire. 

Arthur: 

~ In the book: Lucy’s fiancée. Also he’s fuckin loaded so he helps fund the whole expedition. Interpretations of him change kinda drastically because he’s not given much canon personality or back story, but he’s overall a pretty decent guy. He can be mean but, like, in a loving way. 

~ In adaptations: if he’s there at all he’s usually Just Some Guy. Which, like. fair.  

Jack: 

~ In the book: a psychiatrist who desperately needs to see a psychiatrist but he is not self aware enough to know this. Used to be Van Helsing’s student. He definitely can be an ass (especially to Renfield), but it’s usually more that he just doesn’t think how his actions affect other people all the way through than him actively being a terrible person on purpose, if that makes sense. Him and his interest in science and technology symbolize the heralding of the new age, which is in contrast with Dracula, who is only ever “living” in the past (bedum tsss). 

~ In adaptations: sometimes he’s Van Helsing’s peer rather than ex-student. Usually he doesn’t still keep a phonograph, or even an active interest in technology, which is...a disservice. He can either be nice, or mean, usually not very nuanced or interesting. Honestly I feel like usually in adaptations he’s kinda just used as the gap to get Van Helsing there and then he does nothing after that.  

Quincey: 

~ In the book: literally the guy who kills Dracula. A Texan, as well, which seems funny now but at the time it was a fairly common trope to add in a foreigner. He’s pretty calm always, especially in a crisis, and also willing to step up and do whatever’s needed of him. And, again, he literally kills Dracula. Easily one of the more important characters in the book, except he doesn’t keep a diary so most people don’t acknowledge this. Also at one point it’s stated he’s rich af iirc so that’s funny. 

~ In adaptations: what do you mean we should add the guy who killed Dracula??? Nah it’ll be fine without him 

Van Helsing: 

~ In the book: he’s the hero of the story (not the protagonist, that’s separate). Him and Dracula are character foils. He’s the guy who knows everything about vampires, and also the guy who specifically knows how to stop Dracula. Even then, he isn’t a professional vampire hunter, or even, like, an expert. He just happens to know a shit ton about this. His name means “father of multitudes” and he is the Designated Dad of the group. He probably makes everyone hot cocoa and tells them weird stories about spiders drinking oil from lamps after a long day. 

~ In adaptations: murder grandpa is an asshole who also has no idea what he’s talking about because it makes Dracula look better 

Count Dracula: 

~ In the book: the villain. He could represent a lot of things — anything from a plague, to the past creeping up and not staying buried where it should, to Stoker’s internalized homophobia, to Stoker’s own xenophobia or antisemitism, or all of the above, or none. He has a lot of layers and each layer is a new level of villainy. We don’t know a lot about him, admittedly — who he was in life, why he became a vampire, what all of his powers are, or even his motivations for coming to London. He can represent any evil we want at all, which makes him a very affective villain. Also he’s supposedly related to Atilla the Hun which is funny af to me for no reason 

~ In adaptations: incel!Vlad III 

Renfield:  

~ In the book: admittedly, he does not have much baring on the plot. He tends to act as a meter for how close Dracula is at any given moment, until his death when Mina takes over that role. However, he introduces many themes and topics into the story: insanity, corruption, idealization of evil, etc., and he and Lucy work together to showcase how vampirism corrupts and how it can destroy even relatively innocent people. Even though Renfield has a bit of a reputation of being violent and volatile, he only ever really does something violent once, which wasn’t even entirely of his own volition and he sacrifices himself for the greater good. 

~ In adaptations: oh no scary evil insane man1!!11! he’s obviously just horrible it’s not like Dracula is manipulating him!11!! if Dracula were to manipulate him then Dracula wouldn’t be a sympathetic antihero :((( 

The Three Weird Sisters: 

~ In the book: the antithesis to Lucy’s suitors. They are supposed to be seductive, and dangerous, above all. They might be Dracula’s victims, or they could be some other vampires unrelated, we don’t really know. Not much is said about them and that’s likely very much on purpose. They have the same air of mystery about them as Dracula does, if not more. A lot of the horror in this book is based in the fear of the unknown. 

~ In adaptations: walking boobs with fangs. Usually so much is changed about the story that none of the above is even relevant or can be applied to them. 

Anyways thanks for the ask and I hope this answers your question :) 

[themuseic]

Only Fools (Chapter  9)

(Art Credit: @clumsycopy)

Fic Summary: Sent to Boone County, West Virginia on an assignment, you find yourself engulfed your work. How could you possibly find time for anything else? Even if “anything else” includes the tall, kind, and handsome bartender from down the road?

Word Count: 4.2k

Read Chapter 8 here.

Read here on AO3.

Warnings: Smut, Vaginal Fingering, PIV Sex, Outdoor Sex, Swearing, Temperature Play. Zippy knows a lot about cougars now. 

Author’s Note: It took a long time, but I got this chapter ready eventually! Two things. One, I finished plotting! So some new tags are getting added to AO3, but I know I do warnings on here. Be advised that there is some angst upcoming, and those chapters will be tagged as such. Second! If you enjoy this chapter, you just might like Trail Cam, by @clydesfavoritegirl​! Even if you don’t, check out Kylie’s anyway!! It seems Clyde just exudes “outdoor sex” vibes. As always, thank you for reading <3 

After you had begun your freelance work, you quickly discovered that you worked best alone. You had been asked to take a partner on your first assignment, a greenhorn at the agency you were contracted by. Sure, the guy was nice enough, but once you had to shush him for just about the millionth time in the camouflaged blind while you tried to count the species of birds hopping and flitting through the lush meadow, you knew that your time would be best spent on your own. From that moment on, you made sure to write into all contracts that you would operate on your terms, and if you didn’t want to bring a partner on assignment there was nothing they could do about it. 

And that’s how you had worked for years since then. You had been to every corner of the country and seen it all by yourself. That was more than fine with you. You were happy to get your work done alone, you actually preferred it. 

It didn’t surprise you though. It didn’t surprise you that when Clyde started coming out to help you on the trail, your desire for solitude flew out the window faster than the birds had fled from your first work partner. It didn’t surprise you that you planned your trips out around his schedule at the bar. 

It didn’t surprise you. 

Joe Bang had tried to convince you the Logan brothers were stupid. Dim. You didn’t have to try to prove him wrong though, Clyde did that by himself.

He was more than curious, he was just one hair shy of ravenous. Ravenous for information, the usually quiet man was a rapid-fire list of questions. He would ask how to set things up, why you put them out. He would hover over your shoulder, watching your every move and lightly touching your arm before he would ask about the note you had just written down. And when you were sitting at the bar reviewing footage, flicking through data, or interviewing someone who just swore they knew where the den might be, Clyde was on the other side of your laptop, ready to ask a question, celebrate a breakthrough, or slide you a drink - whatever you might need. 

He would get a special glint in his eye when you told him it was time to go out and collect your data. Without fail, he would proclaim an early last call at the Duck Tape and be at the trailer, asleep and curled around you at a decent time, so that he wouldn’t be the one holding you up in the morning. Clyde had amassed a basket of trail snacks so the two of you were always fed, and he would, more often than not, be ready and parked on the porch, his tin of coffee in his hand, before you had even brushed your teeth.

Clyde observed how you would work with your equipment when you said that you were just fine handling them on your own, and in just a few times out, he was handing you tools before you even knew you had to ask for them.

It was an improvised dance, but you seemed to be in sync. Clyde anticipated your moves and your needs, making each venture out into the backwoods of West Virginia easier every time. 

By the time you moseyed out in mid-January to collect more data, more indications of the number of eastern cougars in the woods, you would put money down that Clyde could go out by himself and do absolutely everything right. 

With backpacks strapped to your bodies, packed full of equipment and snacks, the two of you trekked out. The trail was covered in a light dusting of snow, and the air around your noses condensed into wisps of mist that were quickly carried away by the slight breeze. The trail was easy, made just a bit more difficult by the icy snow, but it was peaceful. It didn’t take too long to reach the area you had staked with cameras, and the minute you arrived, you got to work. 

“So, the cougars should be in hibernation now right?” he asked as he popped an amber piece of dried apricot into his mouth, gazing at the winter landscape sprawled around you. That boy did love his snacks. 

You shook your head as you fiddled with the memory card of the camera you held in your lap, seated in a bank of snow you had chosen as the day's office chair. “No actually,” you replied, wiping your nose as it ran in the cold. “Cougars don’t hibernate. They have an advantage in the winter, so they stay out and hunting.”

Clyde cocked his eyebrow at you. “Advantage? How so?”

You grunted as you stood up, the tension of the pearlescent fabric of your snow gear working against you as you lifted yourself from the ground. Dusting off the snow that had collected in the hem of your clothing, you began to scan the ground for what you were looking for. It wasn’t hard to find what you were looking for. 

“Oh Clyde, here! Come look.”

He sauntered over, tucking the small bag of apricots into the pocket of his jacket. He crouched down to peer at the spot you were pointing at and he wrapped his arm around your leg, hugging you close. “Alright baby. What am I lookin’ at?'' he looked up to you, one eye squeezed shut in question. 

You laughed and carded your hand through his hair, pushing the thick black waves into a puff on the crown of his head. “You didn’t even give me a chance to show you!,” you huffed, collapsing into a crouch next to him. He removed his arm from your leg just in time, and adjusted it to lay around your waist as you settled next to him. 

You reached your arm out to gesture at the print in front of you. “See this? It’s a cougar paw. Notice anything about it?”

Clyde’s head tilted into you. “Uhh,” he hummed, “it’s got pretty big claws.” He ghosted the outline of the deep punctures the claws had in fact left in the snow. 

Giggling, you turned to plant a kiss on Clyde’s jaw and pushed into it with your nose. “You’re right, they are. But look at the whole paw.” Clyde’s face screwed up. “Darlin’, it looks like just about every paw I’ve seen before.” He shrugged. “Got no clue.”

You splayed your hand over the imprint in the snow. “Look how big it is.” Clyde unwrapped his arm from your body, and eclipsed your hand with his. “Don’t look too big to me,” he teased as he closed his fingers around yours. Laughter pealed from your chest, and you smacked his shoulder with your free hand. “Okay, but look! It is pretty big,” you whined, a faux pout creeping on to your face. 

“Alright, I guess you’re not wrong. But what’s that got to do with hibernation?”

“Their paws help them in winter. They’re fast, agile. They have the advantage, really nothing can escape a cougar in the snow.” You shrugged. “They were made for it. They can get really any prey they want.” 

Clyde whistled. “Impressive. Nature really has a way of workin’ huh?” He reached forward with his metal fingers and laid them next to the print on the white powder. Your eyes softened. You could only guess at what was running through his mind. “Hey,” you whispered, hooking your finger underneath his jaw and pulling his face to look at you. “You know things happen for a reason.”

His soft eyes bored into your own, and you could feel your heart shatter in that instant. Curling your fingers into the skin of his jaw, you beckoned him close, planting a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I know,” he muttered, necking back into you as he gave your side a light squeeze. You reached up to tap his cheek lightly. “C’mon. Let’s get the rest of this done.” The pair of you stood and meandered back to the work you had set out to complete. 

~~~

The last camera to pull down was suspended high on a birch tree.

You gazed up at it, hands firmly planted on your hips. Head cocked, you assessed the easiest way to get it, as you could hear Clyde rustling with his pack behind you. It would be easier for him to get it, you knew that, but you had done it before, so you figured you could do it now. 

The stretch ran down the outside of your arm as you strained to reach the camera, your tongue poking out of the side of your mouth in concentration. You wrapped your arm around the thin birch tree and pushed off of the nearby boulder with your boot. 

“I can just get that camera down for ya darlin’,” Clyde offered as he processed the sounds of your struggle. 

You turned to smile at him. “No thank you, Clyde. Part of the fun is seeing if I can do it.” Your grin split into a smile as you hoisted yourself a few inches higher, just enough for your fingers to snag the mounted camera. You ripped it off of the tree, the zip ties that held it in place snapping back over your knuckles sharply. “Ah hah!” you exclaimed, your hand punching the air to mark your success. You whipped your head around to wink at Clyde and flipped your body to sit right where your foot was planted on the boulder.

You perched on the edge of the boulder and tossed the camera between your hands triumphantly. Clyde sauntered over and pushed your legs apart in one swift movement. He settled his hips between your knees, his hands lifting to settle on the line of your hips. Tilting his head, Clyde looked to the piece of equipment in your hand. “Well look at that darlin’, you got that down real easy,” he mused as he pushed his head forward to nuzzle against your forehead. You grinned as your eyelids drifted shut and you pushed yourself up to reciprocate the caress. 

“Got to where I am somehow, right?” you laughed as your free hand reached up to cup the side of Clydes face. He jerked his eyebrows skyward as he chuckled. “Now, I never said you weren’t good at what you do,” he clarified, his pout becoming more pronounced as he backpedaled his statement. “Just want to help is all.” 

You grinned and slid your hand around to the backside of his neck, tugging him forward to plant a kiss on his plump lower lip, like you had yearned to do so many times before. 

“Don’t worry about me Clyde,” you muttered low against his hot breath. “I can take care of myself.”

He scoffed against your lips and caused a small cloud of air to waft over your skin as he nuzzled his nose into your cheekbone. “I’m always gonna worry about you,” he sighed as he slipped his ice cold fingers, both metal and flesh, under the hem of your tops and pressed them into your skin. You yelped at the sensation and jumped, finding yourself pressed closer to his chest. He chuckled as he pushed small circles into your skin. 

“Chilly?” he huffed as his lips curled into a smile on your own. 

You smacked him playfully, which only made him slide his hands further up your back. A laugh bubbled up your throat, and you threw your head back as you pushed your hands against his strong biceps and your feet kicked at nothing, trying to remove his icicle limbs from your skin. Clyde took the opportunity to dive forward and place kisses along the length of your exposed neck. 

Clyde’s mouth was hot against the skin of your neck. The feeling allowed you to relax, your mind distracted from the cold rivers he traced into your back. The trail of kisses he left was instantly cooled by the crisp mountain air as he trailed his affections down to the slice of skin he had exposed as he tugged down the collar of your sweater. You sighed with content, rolling your head back to provide him access to your pulse. 

He grunted as he was met with resistance from your woolen sweater. It would not budge a single millimeter further, barring him access to your nipple that had been peaked swollen and stiff by the sting of winter. You laughed as you felt the cool metal of his prosthetic tug at the neckline of your top and your hand shot up to capture his jaw and deepen your kiss. 

Clyde leaned into you, his hips splitting your legs further along the rough boulder edge. You leaned back on a deep exhale, and he collapsed on top of you, his pelvis settling in between your spread thighs. His hard erection tented even his padded snow pants and you could feel it against your clothed heat, pulling slick from you. You keened at the feeling and pushed your hips up into his.  “Needy today, baby?” Clyde cooed, peering down his nose to gaze at you, his eyes hooded with arousal. You bit at your lip and sighed. He smirked and straightened up, pulling away from you. He smacked the outside of your thigh and you pouted at how your fleece lined pants absorbed the impact. “C’mon, up,” he ordered. “Need you bent over this rock. Pants down.” 

You pushed yourself out of your prone position and hopped off of the lip of the boulder. Without a second thought, you undid the buttons of your pants and wriggled them down, just far enough to allow Clyde access to your dripping cunt. You shuddered at the sensation of the crisp air blowing across your heat. You inhaled once, twice. Preparing yourself for Clyde, for what he did to you every time, without fail. For when he would split you open effortlessly. 

You were lost in thought, mentally preparing yourself, but you cried out when Clyde split your folds with two fingers. He ran them from your clit to your entrance, collecting your arousal on his ice cold digits. The sensation was unlike anything you had felt before. You were used to soft, warm encounters, under covers or with heaters close by. But the icy bite of his hands made your thighs vibrate, your breath catch. You pushed your hips back into his hand, groaning at the sensation of his thick fingers splitting as they stroked the sides of your clit. 

Clyde tsk’ed and splayed his fingers, grabbing your cunt in his hand to stop the ministrations of your hips. “You know I’ll give you what you need.” He started to rock his hand. “You just gotta be patient for me.” The pressure he so expertly pushed into your wet pussy dragged a low moan from you and he smiled. He loved how you would come apart for him. 

He dragged his fingers over your heat, dancing around your entrance, teasing you. Each movement coaxed a breeze of the frigid air over your exposed heat, and you clenched at the feeling. He felt your skin flutter beneath him and he eased his middle finger into you, relishing in the warmth of your body, the pulse of your walls.

“Oh my god, Clyde,” you groaned as the sensation of his freezing finger filled you up. It made you that much more sensitive. You became aware of parts of yourself like you had never felt before, and your inner walls pulsed in response. “You tryna break my finger off, sweetheart?” Clyde growled into your ear. He rocked in and out of you, and just when his first finger had nearly warmed to your body temperature, he thrust a second in with it. 

You keened at the feeling and lurched forward. Clyde’s arm wrapped around you, his body folded over and draped across your back. He pulled your hips back into him in time with the thrusts of his arm, fingering your deeper, deeper. “Gotta stretch you out,” he crooned. You moaned in response, your head lolling to the side. Clyde rolled his head with you, and suckled at your neck. 

“Fuck, your fingers are so big Clyde,” you whimpered, and he curled his fingers deep inside you. The resulting squelch of your arousal pulled a groan from Clyde, and your walls pulsed on his fingers. 

God, he knew your body. He could make you cry, make you cum, make you worship a nameless god on just two of his fingers. But still, as much as you needed him, he needed you. And taking you in a forest swathed in white was more than a fantasy, it was a goddamn dream. 

You focused on the frigid surface of the rock, trying to avoid thrusting your hips back into Clyde’s hand, when he ripped his hand from you. A high whine fell from your lips in protest, even though you could already hear Clyde grappling with his pants. You knew what would follow and you yearned for it nonetheless. 

You dragged your fingers across the rough face of the rock until your focus was suddenly shattered by the sensation of Clyde’s thick girth splitting your lips open as he eased into you at a snail’s pace. Inch by inch he pushed into you, taking his time to feel your flesh give way to him, and your mouth fell open into a silent cry. 

It was blissful torture. 

Clyde was a behemoth. No matter how many times he speared you with his thick, veiny girth, each time felt like your first. It was a delicious burn, a delightful pressure. You could have sworn you felt the head of his cock drag over the ripples and ridges of your pussy, and you tilted your hips, allowing him access to the deepest parts of you. 

Your nipples strained with arousal, the stiff buds almost painful as they brushed against your sweater. “Clyde-e,” you panted, barely able to pull in breath with the sharp pressure of Clyde filling you completely. He knocked the breath out of you with each thrust forward, and when he heard your sigh he laughed. 

“Oh darlin’, you can’t even talk?” He taunted lovingly. “Damn shame, you got such a pretty voice.” He fell forward to whisper in your ear. “Love hearin’ you whine for me baby. Wonder if I can get you to anyway.” Clyde’s hips jerked forward and the spongy hot head of his cock rammed into you. Your mouth fell open into a voiceless gasp, and he blew out a breath of disapproval. 

“Now that just won't do.”

With his metal arm braced against the boulder in front of you, Clyde shoved his free hand into your pants. He found your clit in a second and circled it tightly with the rough pad of his middle finger. Your pussy squeezed his cock on each thrust into you, and you felt a familiar warmth begin to build within your stomach. 

Clyde felt the whispers of you beginning to tighten up on him and he smirked. “Feelin’ good?” he hummed. You nodded silently in response. He squeezed your waist. “What was that?”

“It feels good… ah!” you replied breathily, exclaiming as Clyde’s finger hit the underside of your clit just right, and made your knees turn to jelly. He grinned. “That’s right.”

Almost immediately, he let up. It was almost as if he wanted to drag this out, hold you right at the precipice of orgasm without letting you tip over for as long as he can. And if you had asked him? That was precisely what he wanted. 

The warm blanket of his body left your back and the rush of cool air sent a shiver through every end of every nerve. “Fuck, you take me so good.” Clyde groaned as he leaned back and stared down at where his thick length disappeared into you. “This pretty pussy takes me so deep.” 

You whined at his words. It was the only sound you could manage to push past your lips as he rocked in and out of you. 

Clyde couldn’t rip his eyes from your cunt as he watched you swallow him so easily. His jaw was slack, and he could have drooled had he not been snapped from his reverie by your whine. On his next thrust, he leaned forward, wrapped his arm around you, and yanked you up to his chest. “Fuck!” you gasped as the new arch in your back let Clyde pummel your cervix, knocking into you on each thrust. 

He groaned, deep and gravely. “Oh shit, you’re so sexy darlin’.” Clyde’s breath caught as he felt your walls begin to flutter and spasm. He shoved his face into the crook of your shoulder and blew his hot breath across your ear. “You about to cum pretty girl? You about to cum on my cock?” 

You keened. “Yes, Clyde, yes!” 

“Rub that little clit for me baby, cum for me right now.” 

You shoved your hand in your pants in an instant, finding your swollen clit and spreading your juices around the nub. You rubbed it furiously, your mind nearly numb with the overwhelming feeling of Clyde splitting you in two. The pressure mounted steadily in your stomach, the pressure of impending orgasm, and you could feel your thighs beginning to shake. You sighed his name. 

“Yeah baby?”

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming.”

You cried out as your orgasm crashed over you and you felt your walls pulsing, clenching on Clyde’s length. He groaned into your ear, and you felt the familiar warmth of his spend gush out of your pussy as he worked you both through your orgasms.

You pulsed together, his thrusts slowly, slowly, slowly coming to a stop, until he was still against you. Your thighs shook against him and he pulled up on your waist, easing the burden of your position off of your legs. Panting, Clyde turned his head to plant a kiss on your temple. His lips lingered on your skin, and you felt his hot breath puff against your forehead, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Fuck darlin’,” Clyde muttered into you. “You feel so good, I don’t want to move.” He ducked his head and nibbled at your earlobe. “I could just stay here. Wait ‘til I get hard again, and fuck you right here again, on your hands and knees,” he growled. 

You reached your palm up to cup his cheek. “As good as that sounds, I think we might freeze before we got the chance.” Clyde sighed and leaned into your palm.

“I guess.”

You stayed like that, connected, reveling in the feeling of the other, for a few beats longer. That was, until the chill of the air finally did settle over the parts you had exposed to the elements, and you started to feel that familiar bite of winter. Carefully, Clyde eased himself out of you, and you missed the comforting pressure deep in your stomach. 

You shimmied your pants over your ass and slotted the button into its hole, and you felt the stickiness of Clyde’s cum start to leak from you. You looked down to your pants, hoping the viscous liquid wouldn’t start to seep through. As you looked for any spots of wetness, you spied a curious item on the ground.

“Oh fuck Clyde,” you breathed, your eyes transfixed on a particular spot on the ground.

“What’s that darlin’?” he asked as he jumped slightly to yank his pants back up his body. You nodded your head towards the offending area. 

The camera you had just pulled down from the trees had found a new home on the floor, the lens pointed up to the sky. Just below where you and Clyde had just fucked.

“It’s motion activated.” You could feel your cheeks warming at the thought of it, and your eyes widened as you realized just what that meant.  

Clyde on the other hand found the humor in the situation. He chuckled and reached down to scoop up the piece of equipment and turned it over in his hands. “Hm. Well, sounds like we made a little surprise home video,” he teased with a wink. 

You threw your hands over your face and rubbed your eyes. “Oh god, I have to edit that right away,” you groaned. Your fingers split open over your eyes, and you stared Clyde down. “Promise to not let me forget, I can’t let that get to anyone.” 

“Of course darlin’,” Clyde wove his arm around your lower back and pulled you close to plant a kiss on your forehead. “As long as you keep the footage you cut.” You rolled your eyes and landed a joking smack on his chest. “Hey!” he scoffed with a wink. “Least you can do, me helping you out on these missions like this and all. It can be my payment.”

“Oh, you know you like coming out here.” You wagged your tongue at him and turned to collect your bags. Almost immediately you were stopped by a sharp pinch to your ass, and you yelped. You shot a glare back at Clyde, trying to suppress the smile about to break across your face. He laughed, scooped his pack up from the ground, and wove his arm around your waist. Clyde didn’t let go of you the entire hike back to the trailer. 

~~~

Taglist: @mind-p0llution @thedivinemissm @clydesducktape @finn-ray-nal-beads @ladygrey03 @desiraypark @1800-fight-me @aloneandsleepless​ @hopeamarsu​ (Comment or message me to be added or removed!)

[meltwonu]

| caffeine |     [chapter 5]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; oral(male receiving), face-fucking, hair pulling, some name calling, masturbation, minor panty sniffing. 😈🥴Much like SE this doesn’t follow any of the drabble game posts/blurbs that precede it otherwise it also wouldnt make sense jkfhksh there are some similar plot points as one of the posts i made but its not directly related! 💕💕A bit of a shorter chapter this week but thank you for your continued interest~💕💕💕 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - x - x - x - x - x

True to your word, you find yourself at a SVT House party a few days later.

You wonder how any of them can even deal with the amount of people currently crammed into every square foot of the big house because you can barely keep it together. Minghao is nowhere to be seen, obvious. And Mingyu currently towers over everyone else in the kitchen where you stand; pouring liquor straight into Jihoon’s mouth. You raise an eyebrow at the sight, taking a sip of your own cup before you turn to exit the bustling kitchen.

It wasn’t that you were a prude or hated parties; it was more-so the crowd that really turned you off. Also the fact that SVT parties usually only ended when the law enforcement swung by and you typically did not want to be around when and if that happened. You really had to know how Minghao dealt with this.

“Whoa there baby, not so fast!”

An arm wraps around your waist and tugs you into their warm chest and you immediately spin around in their hold to see who the culprit is. “Um, can I help you?” He was definitely taller than you, had a beaming smile, and cute mole on his cheek. 

“Yeah! You almost left without introducing yourself to me, cutie~” 

There’s a laugh on his lips after and if you weren’t already involved with someone from SVT House, this guy would’ve definitely been your pick. “Why should I go first? You’re the one with your hands on me.” To your surprise, he lets go of you, backing up slightly to give you some space.

“Oops, sorry, haha, you’re right! My name’s Seokmin.” He smiles at you, extending a hand towards you which you take as you introduce yourself. “That’s a cute name! Say, you wanna get out of here?” You try to refrain from laughing, of course that was his goal. “It depends, where are you tryin’ to take me?” His smile turns into a smirk, eyes smoldering as he peers down at you. “Hmm, guess it depends where you wanna go? There’s a lot of rooms in this house, cutie. And I can take you to any of them.”

It’s at this exact moment you realize that everyone that’s part of SVT House apparently takes a course in flirting. “What do you say, baby? I could show you somethin’ new, if you’d like.”

“Actually, I think I have to have a word with her.”

The familiar voice has you turning to your side, meeting Wonwoo’s inquisitive stare as he brings his own cup to his lips. “Oh… okay. Nevermind! It was nice meeting you though!” Seokmin shares a look with Wonwoo before leaving, a pout on his lips before he exits.

“Wow, didn’t think I’d actually run into you here Wonwoo.”

The said male smirks, placing his empty cup down on the cluttered countertop before he starts to push you out of the kitchen and into the hallway. There’s a few people scattered about in the tight space, but thankfully more empty than the kitchen had been.

“I live here. Why wouldn’t I be here, princess?”

“I mean, Minghao tells me he usually stays in his room when you guys have parties… I just assumed you were the same or something.”

Wonwoo leads you to a restroom in the hallway, gently pushing you in before he turns to lock the door. “Oh? Think I’m a goody two shoes even after everything I’ve done to you? You’re too kind, sweetheart.” He backs you into the countertop, arms caging you in as he stares down at you.

“No, I never said that. Trust me, I know you’re not.”

Wonwoo tells you that his room is off limits when you ask. That it’s a luxury you need to earn before he takes you there. You pout at him at first, but you accept it for what it is. For now.

Instead, he pushes you down onto your knees, hands immediately flying to the waistband of his jeans to undo the button. You watch him, hands already behind your back as you try to get as comfortable as you could with the rug digging into your kneecaps.

“Your little show the other day was real cute, princess. We should do that more often when you don’t show up to see me. I always miss your tight cunt, baby.”

You nod up at him, eyes focused on his half hard cock coming into view when he pushes his jeans and underwear down enough. “But for now, I want you to suck me off with that slutty ‘lil mouth of yours. And no hands.”

“Yes, sir.”

Wonwoo guides his cock to your mouth, tapping the head of it on your cheek before he drags it across to your lips. You part your lips, welcoming his cock into your mouth as you begin sucking on the head. Groans spill out of his mouth as he watches you; his left hand still guiding his cock into your mouth as his right hand goes straight for your hair. He threads his fingertips through your hair, pulling on it enough to get you moaning around him.

Little by little, you take more and more of Wonwoo’s cock into your mouth until he’s deep throating you. And you can feel him getting harder and harder in your mouth as you hollow out your cheeks around him.

“Fuck, your mouth is so fucking small… You’re so good at sucking my cock.”

 By now, he already has both of his hands in your hair, holding you still as he thrusts into your mouth. You rub your thighs together, moaning around him when you feel how wet you are. “Mmh, I know how much you want me to take you upstairs and fuck your pretty cunt open. You only get that if you’re a good girl, y’know?” He lets out a heartless laugh, continuing to use your mouth to get off.

You whimper around him, eyes teary as you look up at him. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. We’ll get to that eventually.” He thrusts into your mouth particularly hard as you sputter around him. You know for sure you already look like a complete mess, eye makeup smeared and spit and precum dribbling down your chin. There’s a vague noise which sounds like knocking coming from the other side of the door and it reminds you that there’s an entire crowd of people just outside.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum in your mouth. Be good and swallow it all for me, okay?” You nod slightly, relaxing your throat as he picks up the pace; the hands tangled in your hair tighter than before.

The knocking gets quicker and louder just as Wonwoo cums, a faint ringing in your ears as you swallow down all of the warm liquid. You can feel some of it dripping down your chin as he continues to shallowly thrust into your mouth, riding out his orgasm.

He lets go of your hair as he braces himself on the countertop above you, catching his breath as he stares down at you. You finally use your hands to brace yourself against his thighs, cleaning his cock with your mouth.

“Such a good girl, sweetheart.” Your throat feels impossibly sore; giving Wonwoo head after drinking earlier was probably not the best idea. “T-thank you, sir…”

“Hey! What the fuck is going on in there!?”

Right. The knocking.

Wonwoo gives you enough space to stand, legs shaky as you try to wipe off the cum drying on your chin while simultaneously trying to smooth down your messy hair. He tucks himself back into his underwear before he zips his jeans up, looking just as normal as ever. You check yourself in the mirror, only to find your lips swollen and eyes red from crying. There’s no way whoever is on the other side of the door won’t know; you just hope they’re too drunk to notice.

Despite the knocking, Wonwoo cages you against the sink again, tilting your head up to meet him in a searing kiss. It tastes like alcohol and cum, but he doesn't seem to mind. He drags a hand up your naked thigh, pushing the skirt you were wearing up until he can run his fingertips over your covered slit. 

When he breaks away from the kiss, his lips ghost over yours, a smirk on the edge of them. “Take off your panties for me.” 

“H-huh?”

“I can feel how wet they are and I want them.” 

You decide to let him, letting him drag the wet material down your thighs until you step out of them. He brings the soaked material to his face before smelling them, moaning as he does. Wonwoo pockets them right after, just as the knocking becomes unbearable.

When Wonwoo thinks you’re decent, he sidesteps you to open the door, revealing Seokmin on the other side.

“Fuck, are you serious? Should’ve just said you had dibs, bro. Anyway, party’s over man, someone broke Soonyoung’s gundam in the living room and he’s raising hell and jumping onto the tabletops. I think they need you.” Wonwoo doesn’t reply, instead wrapping a hand around your wrist as he drags you out of the restroom and back into the hallway.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Guess we’ll have to continue this another time.” You watch as he turns and starts walking away, surely to take care of whatever is going on in the living room. The stickiness between your legs is unbearable now that there wasn’t anything keeping it inside your panties, but you just need to get home so you can take care of it. Leaving yourself a mental note to send pics of yourself to Wonwoo later. He’d surely punish you for touching yourself without his permission, but you’d deal with that later.

“Hey, you gonna be okay? It’s kinda late to walk back. But I can walk you back if you want?” Seokmin comes up behind you, arm braced against the wall.

“Huh? No, it’s okay. I’ll, um, get a taxi or something. It’s not that far.”

“Okay. Might wanna text your dick appointment when you get in, though. That guy may not seem like it but he worries.”

That night when you get in, it’s a quick race to get undressed before your legs are spread on your bed.

Your idea of letting Wonwoo know you’re fine is sending him pictures of your state of undress and videos of you thrusting your dildo into your wet pussy. You even take the time to send him some audio clips where he can hear your whimpers and your wetness while you play with your toy.

You imagine it’s Wonwoo’s hands all over your body and Wonwoo’s cock deep inside of you. You even take the time to edge yourself twice; imagining it’s him making you whine and wait. His deep laugh and filthy praise on your mind when you cum hard; back bowing off the sheets as you cry out.

There’s a satisfied sigh on your lips when you slide the toy from inside of you, tiredness settling in when you sit up to get cleaned off. Getting off alone was fine, but it definitely wasn’t the same as actually fucking Wonwoo.

You were definitely going to the library tomorrow.

[drivingsideways]

hi, I've been going through your jtbc life tag, and seeing your commentary on how the writer lacked in some parts, how differently would you have written it had you helmed it?

How delightful. This no-name fic writer unencumbered by entertainment industry realpolitik would:

1. Write the elder Ye sibling as a woman. Why not? Are women not allowed grief and misdirected rage? Are they not allowed to shake the world? I submit that they are. I don't think there needs to be too much change to Ye Jin-woo's role/ characterization for this to work. The love story between the siblings remains absolutely the same. 

2. HOWEVER. I would not go into a pointless red herring plot about possible murder. Ye Seon-woo and Ye Seol-hee find out about the funds misappropriation; unfortunately Director Lee passes away before he can take any action. With Deputy Director Kim in line for the job, and also their PRIME SUSPECT, ER star doctor Ye Seol-hee gets into battle mode.

3. Meanwhile! Sungkook stalwarts ( and People Who Have Had An Unspoken Thing Between Them for twenty odd years , two marriages, two divorces, and two kids betwixt them) Chiefs Joo and Oh are in the process of figuring out What To Do About the Problem of CEO Gu Seung-hyo. Chief Joo and CEO Gu clash very publicly, and Chief Joo's MORAL COMPASS and (unfortunate!) popularity with the staff make him a front runner for director's post because the Kim Tae-Sang subplot gets resolved a little faster. But! CEO Gu knows Chief Joo would be a total disaster and he thinks Chief Oh would be an acceptable compromise? So he's trying to figure out how to get an in with her, because they seem to be A Team, and she speaks her mind but doesn't do any real politicking; ffs, she hasn't even put her name on the list. How now?

4. Hello, junior NEUROSURGEON Lee No-eul of the sunny smiles and unfortunate taste in friends, but BETTER taste in mentors i.e Chief Oh's special fave. Lee No-eul is his in! She seems a sensible sort- they end up sitting having a  meal together at the cafeteria when she walks up and introduces herself and they actually have a particularly good conversation about the govt’s latest regulations re: health insurance- and she adores her sunbae.

5. But how to? Enter Kang Kyung-ah, who LUCKILY has befriended Lee No-eul, VIA Ye Seon-woo, whose love for Lee No-eul could be seen from SPACE, Gu Seung-hyo thinks, but to which No-eul remains charmingly oblivious. But that's not *his * problem, he just needs No-eul to latch onto the idea that Chief Oh should be the next director.

Isn't it time this hospital put women in leadership roles, Kang Kyung-ah asks No-eul over coffee and chatter about kittens. CEO nim was honestly surprised not to see any names in senior management. Of course, the field at the moment was narrow, this was probably something they needed to work on, but Chief Oh has the chops, doesn't Dr.Lee think so? Dr. Lee does think so. Perhaps Dr. Lee should tell her sunbae that then, and y'know, drop the hint that CEO nim would be very happy to see her name on the list. (It would be great drama if this becomes a point of contention between Ye Seol-hee and Lee No-eul rather than you know Romantic Problems Caused By Best Friend Falling For Known Enemy)

5. Chief Oh knows she has the chops. But- there's Chief Joo to consider. She loves him, but god, the man needs to learn to work around things to move them forward, instead of being the tree that won't move. Plus it's a LOT OF WORK, and it's not like she's not already STRESSEDT. Alright, whatever, she's gonna do it.

6. Well, Chief Joo thinks it's a brilliant idea, and really wants her to win, but wait, WHAT, you don't think Gu Seung-hyo needs to be taken down entirely, he just needs to be kept in line? HE HAS SEDUCED YOU WITH HIS CHARM AND HIS PROMISE OF BETTER EQUIPMENT FOR NEUROSURGERY. ARE YOU GOING TO BE SELLING VITAMIN SUPPLEMENTS NOW, IS THAT WHERE THIS IS GOING? (How could you betray everything we've stood for all these years?? How can you betray everything we’ve been to each other all these years?)

7. I feel this would be a great time to bring things to boiling point with a nursing staff strike? Kim Eun-ha was a fave minor character that I would have liked to see more of, and I think her whole cause of better pay/ working conditions for nursing staff would be a great crisis point to really go all out with Our Golden Trio, as Seung-hyo, Chief Joo and Chief Oh take different positions on this, while the directorship remains in the air. 

7. So, well, it's VERY difficult and there's PINING like crazy, but like, when push comes to shove, THEY ARE THERE FOR EACH OTHER OK? He votes for her of course (though he doesn't tell her that), and she brokers a decent compromise for the nursing staff AND gets him a budget for those rural clinics he’s been dreaming of, but oh no, can she ever forgive him for Things That Happened and Oh No Can He Ever Forgive Me For Crossing Sides etc. The Pining (TM) reaches such stratospheric levels that even Ye Seol-hee takes time off from fucking things up to notice. [”How Sungkook’s Hospital betrayed it’s staff by breaking the first ever strike” reads the top online story for a week ]

(What's going on with them, she asks her bestest friend Lee No-eul, who shrugs, philosophically, pats her hand and says, not something you'll understand, you have to know what Real Romance is for that. Hmmph, says Ye Seol-hee, and grumps for a week, but No-eul also notices that these days Seol-hee keeps running off to take calls in secret and it turns out that secret is firebrand reporter and giraffe Choi Seo-hyun? Oh! thinks Lee No-eul, that's adorable, and she tells Seon-woo , and they both look at each other and burst out laughing, and Seol-hee finds her life even more UNBEARABLE thanks for nothing)

7. The point is, Gu Seung-hyo thinks, the point is, Chief Joo and Director Oh are there for each other, their bond wasn't something that even his interference (for admittedly selfish reasons) had broken, and y'know what, he's not a kid, he's emotionally aware enough to admit that he'd really like something like that for himself. What would that even be like, he thinks, as he cuddles Nighty, to know that you weren't alone, and that someone would love you despite your fuck ups or for them, even? And FINE, he wasn't immune to the attraction of deeply moral men who worked 48 hrs straight and fell asleep in supply closets, and NEITHER was he unaware of the way he maybe sometimes found himself taking a little extra care of his appearance on the days he had a meeting with Director Oh, but none of this could be allowed to matter, the point is that they'd never see him as anything but an outsider, and anyway, the way things were going, he'd probably have no cause to see them every single day--

8. "Gosh, listen to this man making us reveal our age," Director Oh says at the farewell dinner they organize for him. It surprises him that it's dinner, that the restaurant is cosy, warm, instead of business-like. It doesn't surprise him in the least that the low, warm lighting accentuates the twinkle Chief Joo's dark eyes as he replies, or that it makes the red of Director Oh’s lipstick headier than the wine they’re drinking. It’s their favourite restaurant he finds out, a small joint that serves Ethiopian food, they’ve been coming here for twenty years, and everyone knows them and they know everyone, and oh, y’know, when he’s in town and not so busy, would he like to join them for their weekly dinners here? 

9. But WHAT ABOUT THE ROMANCE you ask, every kdrama needs a romance, not just subtextual OT3! You’re absolutely right! Not to worry, Kang Kyung-ah is totally on the job! “How adorable is Ye Seon-woo!” she tells Lee No-eul on one of their many dates where they don’t discuss Gu Seung-hyo at ALL, “If I were ten years younger I’d totally hit that!” No-eul laughs, but is also a little embarassed, that’s like her best friend ok, and then Kyung-ah adds, “Not that he’s got eyes for anyone but you!” and No-eul goes, what? and Kyung-ah goes “what?” and then No-eul has a whole ten days (while the Ye siblings are on their seaside vacation) where she’s trying to figure out if a) it’s true and b) what she feels about it and c) then that gets VERY clarified when she finds out that Seon-woo MIGHT DIE and when they are back she’s like, listen up Seon-woo, if you have plans of dying without surgery, just gonna tell you that’s not on the cards, and Seon-woo is like, do you have an alternate plan? and Lee No-eul, neurosurgeon extraordinaire and a woman who knows what she wants, is like, you betcha, we gonna get married and have five kids, and Seon-woo is like *swallows *, “If you say so”, and she’s like “I do.”

FINI. 

[luvrpop]

the end

source: the devil all the time part: one/? pairing: arvin russell/reader requested: no tws: n/a (canon typical in later parts but this ones safe) word count: 1652 synopsis: you make some bread, and contemplate finality. extra: i wanted to challenge myself to write a reader insert without using y/n et cetera!! im so excited for this, and very proud :) Someone once told you that there is nothing in life that isn’t a beginning or an end. You’re not quite sure what you think about that, but you figure there must be some sense of truth to it. Hell, you reckon that if those words are true every damn thing you do is the beginning of the rest of your life. This train of thought will come back to you later.

For now, you wake up in the morning to begin your day, and eventually you’ll sleep at night to end it. 

You open your dresser to begin looking for your outfit, and close the dresser to end that search. Naturally, you’ll put on your clothes to begin wearing them, and take them off at some point to end that.

You open the window in your kitchen to begin a steady flow of fresh air, but you won’t get a chance to close, and thus end, it.

Later, all the beginnings you started and endings you caused in the coming few days will become viscerally apparent to you. You’ll wonder which one is more important; those beginnings or endings? You’ll wonder if that matters at all. It probably doesn’t.

Currently, you are kneading the dough that you began only 15 minutes ago for a loaf of bread that you’ll never get to eat. Your radio plays quietly in the corner of the kitchen and you sing along, finding a rhythm in your movement. You feel as though you could live in this moment for the rest of your life and stay happy the whole time. But of course, the song ends so another can begin and your timer goes off to tell you’ve kneaded enough, and the tranquility of the moment slowly dissipates. You wet a towel and delicately place it on top of the lump of dough, and set it into a bowl and aside to begin it’s second hour of rising. That means that you have an hour to yourself, and you resign yourself to laundry. It gets boring pretty quickly, however, so you resolve to finish this load and continue a book you started reading last week. 

You’re only a few chapters from the end. You like it well enough- the characters are charming and the plot is compelling- but the pacing of it all is what’s really losing you. It started as a decent slow burn character study into the mind of a troubled woman that tragedy followed like a shy dog, which you find interesting. However, at some point it seemed like the author was as swept up in the world as you were and was caught off guard by the need for an ending. The past few chapters have been a rushed attempt at a satisfying conclusion, and the original message of the story has been lost. The woman started out as thoughtful and resilient, despite the shit life kept throwing at her. You like her a lot. At this point in the book, though, things should be calming down. They aren’t. 

You pick up the book where you left off, and immediately it seems to be trending in an unnecessarily painful direction. You wouldn’t dare tell anyone, but you definitely prefer a happy ending. The appeal in watching decent people suffer for nothing is lost on you. It makes it difficult to ignore the more uncomfortable truths of the town you live in. 

By the time you’ve gotten to the last chapter, your timer is going off again, letting you know that it’s time to move your dough from under the towel and in the bowl to the oven. You leave the book open on the counter (it stays, because you accidentally broke the spine when you first bought the book. Your best friend chided you for getting as upset as you did. “There are bigger things in life to worry about than a 50¢ paperback novel, darlin’.” He had said.) and stand to wash your hands. The front door opens and closes as you turn on the water, and you call out a greeting to your father. There is no reply while you move the dough to a pan, and you wait a moment before calling out again. This time you get an answer,  though the voice that responds is not your father. A smile creeps its way onto your face as you slide the pan into the oven and close the door. 

Something you’ve noticed about Arvin Russel is the way he refers to the people. It’s never “good afternoon,” or “thank you,” or “how are ya?”; it’s always a “good afternoon miss,” or “thank you ma’am,” or “how are ya, sir”. He calls his sister Lenora little lady or hun; his grandmother is grandma or ma’am; his grandfather is grandpa or sir. Friends are bud and fella, and enemies are any number of vile swears and adjectives. You’re doll or darlin’, and you have been since you found him hiding behind the school back on the first day of sixth grade. It’s common down here in the south to call people anything but their name whether it be from respect or the opposite, but even as a child Arvin seemed to actively avoid using someone’s name unless he was saying something that he needed you to know he meant. Most people figured he was just some overly respectful kid, but you’ve always suspected that he just understands the power of his words. As you got older, you got the sense to wonder why a kid so young seemed to know so much about power and violence, both mental and physical. You’ve heard the rumors about why he moved to Coal Creek in the first place, but it never came to you to just ask if they were true and what living in Knockemstiff was like. You never considered it your business. 

That’s all to say that when Arvin Russel greets you by name in your kitchen at 3:30 PM on a Saturday in the fine year of 1965, your hand stops on its way to the kitchen timer. A quick glance at the clock confirms that Arvin has work in 10 minutes, and you know that you live a solid 15 away from where he needs to be. You turn to face him, apprehensively studying the way he sits on a stool on the opposite side of the island that divides the room. He sits with a slump that shows an extent of exhaustion that seems deeper than the physical body. You wonder if someone’s soul could yawn. He seems like he hasn’t been able to relax all day, and even now there’s tension in his shoulders. Not to mention that his breathing’s uneven and he’s sweating like a sinner in church, so you decide to dampen a washcloth before asking any questions. He looks at you in such a way while you dab at his damp brow that chips away at your heart. He’s looked haunted since you met him, like Satan himself is dancing in his peripheral, always 3 steps away from finally claiming his soul, and you wonder for a moment if he’s always fought the devil all the time.

“Christ almighty Arvin, what happened t’you?” You ask, blotting away at his forehead.

His eyes snap into focus at that, like he’s remembering something, and he pushes out of his seat, snatching the cloth from your hand. “We gotta leave, doll,”

You look at him incredulously. “What in the world? You sit yourself back down and tell me what is goin-”

Arvin interrupts you by saying your name again. “I mean it,” he says, and you believe him. “You got- you got to get on packin’ and we gotta leave.”

“I’m not packin’ anything until you tell me what the hell is goin’ on, Arvin Russel. I mean it.” You say, and he believes you.

Unfortunately, you’ll come to understand that he doesn’t have the time to explain. 

The two of you have fantasized about skipping town more times than you could count. A couple of times, you even packed your bags into the back of Arvin’s jalopy before school, planning on picking up Lenora and never looking back at this shithole. You were serious about it too, your father and whatever spends its time haunting Arvin giving you more than enough motivation. Still, you stayed. Arvin would say he’d miss his grandmother, which was true, but you both knew it wasn't what Lenora would want. After she died, Arvin swore he should have said damn it all and left anyway.

When he makes eye contact with you again, you know whatever is happening now is different than your idealized life on the run. Every time you planned this, you both swore you’d do it all together, and that included choosing the right time. Arvin was so particular about choosing the right time. Now, it seems that whatever he did that you two are running from didn’t have a right time. It just had to happen, and he was tired of waiting. A sense of dread nags at you perversely, and you know suddenly and without a doubt that if you don’t go with him now, you’ll never see him again.

He drops the rag then and leaves the kitchen with a sense of urgency you’ve never seen, and you tear after him. You meet him in your room and you both throw together two bags of your bare essentials. You’re out the door and shoving the bags into his trunk before you even get a chance to turn off the oven.

It won’t be until you’re leaning your head on the passenger window of Arvin’s automobile, speeding past the sign that cheerily reads You are now leaving Coal Creek! We hope to see you again soon!, that you will realize that you forgot your book at home. 

[thevoidcannotbefilled]

I say this in the most unironic way possible: Madoka Magica AU for TMA.

The world is infested with pockets of fears that hurt everyone who comes near or in contact to them. The worst of these are Manifestations, which actively attack people and seek them out, distorting the land around them to create a world where the only laws of physics are the ones it creates. To combat this, creatures from the entities go and find people to be their avatars, able to wield their power at the cost of normal life. And to power their change, they make one wish equal to the power within them.

But, of course, this is not all what it seems. When becoming an avatar, each person is given a gem to power themselves. Over time, the gem gets slowly corrupted, little flames, little eyes peeking through the sea of color. They're not told this, but the gem? That's not just power, it's their mind, their heart, their soul kept safe within its confines. Their body is just a vessel now. 

And if their gem gets fully corrupted? Well, avatars are manifestations of their entities after all. If they are more fear than person, it's time to emerge, to Manifest.

There are two ways to prevent this: 1) Manifestations when they're defeated, drop a core. This core can be used to slow down corruption. But the most consistent way... well, sometimes you need to cause fear in order to prevent more right?

So, shit's fucked and for the most part, most of the avatars dont know the truth behind what they do or if they do, don't care because they're enjoying being awful.

Which brings the Institute crew.

Honestly at this point, this is just the plot of Madoka but we'll continue anyway. 

Jon, Sasha, and Tim are all working at the Magnus Institute when they have a new recruit, Martin Blackwood. He's odd, stern, and in a way incredibly distant. It's almost like he isn't there, and yet when the rest of the crew think of him, they can only think that he has a nice smile.

Well, Jon thinks other things. 1) Martin seems incredibly competent at this and 2) the tea makes is absolutely perfect. He has no idea what to make of any of this. But Martin doesn't seem to keen to talk to any of them more than strictly necessary, which is perfectly fine with him.

There's an attack, Martin surprise surprise, uses odd powers of disappearing(?) to stop it. Elias with a help from a creature from the entities tries to recruit the crew to becoming avatars, but Martin tells him off, and manages to convince the crew to talk with him and hear him out.

Martin tells them about the avatars. About the fear manifestations. He tells them how this isn't a choice that can be so quickly made that it will change their lives, make them... inhuman.

Tim asks about the wishes. What they can do. Martin quietly answers that whatever he wants to wish, it's not worth the price. Sasha asks why Martin is doing this and why didn't he tell them.

He goes quiet, but then answers honestly, he knew they wouldn't believe him.

For Jon, he asks every question imaginable. Who are you really? What can you do? Why did you protect us? What are those creatures? Why shouldn't I become one of these avatars? What's wrong with Elias?

And Martin answers some of them vague. Some of them full answers. But he says this: I just want everyone to be safe.

Skipping a bit, this story becomes a combo of Martin continuously preventing Jon from becoming an avatar while the world goes to hell around them. Tim becomes an avatar to save his brother. Only to be corrupted by the realization that he's now stuck in this cycle. Sasha becomes an avatar for what she says, to protect others, but she wants to know, needs to know what's going on.

Sasha dies from the a Manifestation, the Not!Them. Tim dies, on the edge of Manifesting himself, but goes down, dying as he takes out the Unknowing.

Throughout all this, Jon slowly realizes there are things Martin isn't telling him. And he asks directly, why aren't you letting me become an avatar? Why aren't you letting me help anyone?

And Martin, terrified that he's going to lose him to Elias' tales of power, tells him.

Martin's power isn't to disappear. In fact, he's always there. No, Martin can manipulate time.

These past few months. Martin has lived them again and again. Trying over and over to keep Jon alive. Every time Jon has become an avatar, he's died or worse, Manifested.

And it always happens. Every time. Every time he tries to go back and save Jon, it seems like there is never a happy ending for him. For them. Elias hasn't told them but there's a huge Manifestation arriving soon. If they dont stop it, do something, it will destroy all of London, and if it does that, there will be nothing they can do for it wrecking havoc all over the world.

And Martin adds, Elias wants Jon to become an avatar, to be his Archivist to either defeat it or become something far worse and far more powerful.

What Martin doesn't know, the wish gains power from the world around them. And Jon, while having the ability at the beginning to be a pretty decent avatar, has become something more. By going back over and over, Jon has become more important in the grand scheme of things, a fixation gaining power of decision with every loop. As much as Martin tries, going back has only made Jon's ultimate fate more ensured and more destructive.

And Jon... he's terrified. But he knows what to do. He wishes there was no such thing as Manifestations in all of existence.

In doing so, he rewrites the laws of the universe. However, by doing so, he essentially destroys his own existence. There can not be avatars without Manifestation. And thus, Jon exists and yet he doesn't.

And Martin.... maybe it's a gift maybe it's a curse, but he remembers Jon. He remembers the many loops trying to keep that stubborn man safe. He remembers the soft smiles that Jon only let the most precious to him see. He remembers falling in love. He remembers sometimes, being loved back.

It hurts. It hurts so much to lose him. But, these moments, these memories, they mattered. Martin loved Jon and that love that determination to save the world mattered. If he didn't think that Jon's life didn't matter, the world would have gone to hell the first time with nothing left but despair.

This isn't a happy ending. It isn’t fair and it isn’t right. But it is an ending made best despite the circumstances. Because despite the fear, despite everything against them, it was love, love of others, love of the world, that saved everyone. It may not exist anymore, but it mattered. They mattered. And sometimes that's enough.

[nelllraiser]

no good deed | luce & nell

LOCATION: nell’s greenhouse. PARTIES: @divineluce​ and @nelllraiser​ SUMMARY: luce asks for nell’s herb supplies to help with her phoenix cleansing. absolutely NO emotional talk or introspection follows. CONTENT: discussion of the lydia plot without specifics, very brief and vague sibling death allusion.

Luce washed her hands in the sink, wincing as the hot water and soap stung the healing wounds. She glanced at herself in the mirror-- she looked like she’d been through hell. Deep purple bruises had blossomed across her skin, but most were covered by winding bandages she’d wrapped over the jagged cuts that ran along the back of her legs. Her back was a mess and it made sleeping a nightmare, but she couldn’t do much about it. A crooked butterfly bandage kept the cut over her eyebrow shut, and the wound was purple at the edges. She looked like shit and she felt it too. But, she couldn’t stop now.

Leaving the bathroom, Luce returned to her room and sat back down at the books she’d borrowed from Rio. The ash had been collected, a piece of the cursed earth for good measure too. The Bloodroot sat in a vase next to the window, the stems dying the water a light pink. Which left… tears, from a phoenix and cleansing herbs. The tears wouldn’t be too difficult-- Leah had said she’d help her with this, so she’d probably be alright parting with a few tears. The cleansing herbs though. Luce couldn’t pretend to know which ones were best suited to a ritual like this. Plants had never been her thing and she didn’t have the coven’s knowledge at her disposal anymore. But… there was someone else who might know. Taking the book with her, Luce made her way out to the greenhouse. And, as she suspected, Nell was there. 

Knocking lightly on the door, Luce spoke up, “Hey.” 

It was no surprise that Nell was puttering about her greenhouse after everything that had happened over the past week or so. In reality, it wasn’t all that much in comparison to the things she’d weathered before. The mad rush to save someone she loved, the devastating blow of losing that same person merely days later— though it hadn’t been in the way she’d anticipated. Frank hadn’t been the one to fell the curtain between Nell and Bex by stealing her life, it’d been Bex herself that had made the severance. The witch wasn’t trying to throw herself a pity party, it was simply that the only way she could think to keep her storming thoughts at bay was to create something, and to care for the plants she nurtured with a gentle hand. The greenhouse had always been a sanctuary of her’s, a place of peace that was her’s and only her’s where she could be alone with herself. She never needed to find the strength to draw her armor within its walls because she didn’t need it’s defenses between the fragile glass panels lining the perimeter. Here she was free to be happy, or hurt, or whatever else she might be feeling at the moment.

But with the sound of a soft knock that changed, and Nell rolled the softness from her shoulders as she went to the door, setting them into their usual and proud position. “Hey-” she began thoughtlessly when she heard the sound of her sister’s voice. A moment later shock was flitting over her face, brows drawn together with concern as she took in the ugly picture Luce made with her collection of injuries. “Luce- what the fuck. What happened? What the hell is wrong with you? I could have closed whatever cuts you have instead of whatever shoddy job you made of your legs,” she chastised while she took in her sister’s bandages. 

A grimace spread across Luce’s face as Nell stared at her, face shifting to an expression of surprise. Maybe she should have put on a jacket or something. Heatstroke would be preferable to getting a lecture. “Slipped and fell on a hike.” Luce said. It wasn’t entirely untrue. She’d been on a hike and she had fallen. Nell didn’t need to know that Morgan had helped with the fall. That Morgan had shoved her down, that she’d thought the other woman was going to kill her. “Yeah, you know me. I’m shit with first-aid.” She said offhandedly, glancing down at the haphazardly wound bandages. “It’s fine, though, I’ll be fine with some time.” Moments like this reminded her of how lucky she’d been all her life-- their mother had always been an option, even if they didn’t necessarily want her help. Now? Mixed messages aside, Luce was never stepping foot in her parents’ home again, not if she could help it. She didn’t need her mother’s help. She didn’t need her pity either. “I’ve got a question for you,” She held up the leather bound book and flipped it open to the page she’d been staring at. “Do you have any idea about what sort of herbs would be used for this sort of thing?”

Nell fixed Luce with a scrutinizing look, arms crossed over her chest as she decided whether or not she wanted to fight her sister on the lackluster answer she’d given. But for once in her life she decided that she was simply too tired, and Luce could give her the answer in due time. Nevertheless, that wouldn’t stop her from mildly calling the fire witch out. “Right. Slipped and fell.” Another disapproving glance flitted over her face before her chastisement continued. “Yeah, but you live with someone who has an entire greenhouse of healing herbs. I’m literally just upstairs in case you forgot. I could have at least scabbed the shit over and lessened the amount of ‘time’ needed.” The mention of a question and the book being presented was enough to spark Nell’s interest, if only for the sole reason that it could provide a distraction from the pity party she’d been throwing herself, wondering how she’d so spectacularly failed at teaching Bex. She should have known. Just because she wasn’t the girl she’d been a year ago didn’t mean she was suddenly equipped to take in a baby witch with her newfound emotional maturity. For a long moment, Nell scanned over the text, lips pursing further the longer she read. “This is about the phoenix that Adam told me he was helping you with? Loved finding out about that from him and not you, by the way.” 

Luce wearily rubbed the heel of her hand against her eye, ignoring the sharp twinge of pain that shot across her forehead. “It’s a long story.” She said lamely. She knew that answer wouldn’t be enough for her sister, but hopefully it would do for now. Later. She’d tell her the details later. Right now, she needed to focus. She had the flowers, she had the ashes, she had the dirt. She just needed the herbs and then the hard part-- the phoenix. And the fire. She didn’t have any idea how she was going to get that whole situation figured out, but… she had to try something. Hopefully the ritual wouldn’t be too affected by a couple cans of gasoline. “I mean, no time like the present? Care to help a sister out?” Luce joked weakly.

At the mention of Adam and the phoenix, Luce blinked. Ah. Yeah, that made sense. They were dating, Adam was a decent guy. Of course he would have told Nell about the situation they had on their hands. “Sorry. I’ve been caught up in trying to figure out how to fix shit. Spent a lot more time in the scribrary than I wanted to. Rio-- Winston’s ex? He’s lending a hand with it. Hence the book.” She said, holding the book up again.

A long story. Nell was growing increasingly tired of the ‘long stories’ that seemed to make up the majority of her life since she’d returned to White Crest. How many ‘long stories’ could someone fit over the span of a year and a half, anyway? “I’m sure it is,” she mumbled lamely, once again proving herself to be uncharacteristically not nosy for the time being. Luce had meant her words to be joking, but Nell failed to continue in that vein, unable to find the energy needed for sarcasm in the moment. “Of course I’ll help you,” she said a little too seriously, clutching onto one of the only constants in her life now that she’d lost yet another person in the form of Bex. It was beginning to look as if the only people she’d always have in her life and at her side would be her sisters, and that was a gift she couldn't afford not to treasure. Leading Luce towards a nearby chair, she began to gather the healing poultices she’d made, the ones their mother had taught her. “So you need lavender and sage.” It wasn’t a question as she took another look over the book. “That’s easy enough.” Squinting at the last plant, she was already beginning to search her brain for what the words could mean. “And a white flowered herb?” Of course a ritual wouldn’t be complete without a sufficiently vague ingredient.

“You know I could have helped ‘figure out how to fix shit’.” Nell had failed at making sure Bex didn’t feel alone, she wouldn’t do the same for her sister. “You mean the guy you punched, and then refused to apologize to?” Perhaps she was still a little bitter about the argument she and Luce had following the happening. “Yeah, that makes sense that he’d help. He’s a good guy.” 

A wave of guilt washed over Luce at the defeated sound of her sister’s voice. Fuck. “It’s-- just don’t fucking… fly off the handle, alright?” She said before running a sloppily bandaged hand through her hair. She paused, not entirely surprised by how quickly Nell figured out what kind of purifying herbs they’d need. Sage and lavender. She should have known that. But she’d never paid attention to purifying rituals, she’d never really paid attention to the plants they used at the coven meetings. She’d just accepted the bundle of herbs and lit the ends, allowing the smoke to waft through the air and mingle with the combined power of the rest of the coven. How she’d taken it all for granted. “Cool, yeah. You’ve got that growing in here, right?” Luce said as she followed Nell to a chair, looking around at the greenhouse as she walked. She’d done enough lavender tattoos to be able to spot the tall sprigs of purple. But, she refocused on her sister and stared over at Nell. “The white flower-- it’s Bloodroot. It grows at Lyssa’s Peak and I needed the stuff that grew at the top. Lunar cycles, drawing power from the moonlight, you know.” She said. Rip the bandaid. Just tell her sister what happened. No more secrets.

“I went hiking up there to get to it the other day. And I ran into Morgan. She showed me a way up the mountain and we got to talking and I was in a… mood about shit. About… Lydia.” Luce said, wondering if Nell would understand why she was in a mood, if her sister would get just why the killing didn’t sit well with her. “And she kept trying to figure out what it was and I snapped at her. And then she snapped at me. Because she’d cared about Lydia. Even though she was a fucking…” Monster. Murderer. Torturer. “Even though she was what she was. Morgan lost her cool, I lost my footing, I took a tumble down the peak. But, it’s fine. She helped me down the mountain.” She didn’t need to. She could have kicked me off. She could have let the coyote finish me. She could have let me die up there. 

Swallowing, Luce blinked at her sister’s words. Yeah. Nell could have helped her. Bea probably could have helped her too. But, again, she’d felt like she’d needed to do this on her own. And where had that landed her? Right fucking here, with no magic to speak of and just struggling to make things work. “Sorry. Old habits. And I’ve said that before, and I’m sorry. I just-- fucking, it’s hard to remember that I don’t have to do everything alone.”

“Me? Fly off the handle? Where would you get an idea like that?” There was the sarcasm Nell had been missing before, but it was short lived as she unwrapped the bandages from Luce’s legs, her frown renewed while she took in the extent of the scrapes and cuts. “Yeah, of course I’ve got those growing. They’re pretty good staples. So the sage is obviously for cleansing…” That made sense, she supposed. They had to rid the phoenix of whatever it was that had made them this way. “And the lavender...it’s for healing.” Healing couldn't take place without the cleansing. After all, you had to clean the wound before it could properly heal. Otherwise you risked it becoming infected, a festering thing that wouldn’t even get a chance to scar, let alone fade. “Sure- the moon. It makes sense.” The great glowing woman in the sky was like butter to a witch’s bread, always ready and willing to lend her strength to those who sought it. 

But the mention of Lyssa’s Peak had Nell remembering her own time in the shadow of it, watching the yellow-eyed wolf and Layla attempting to murder Adam while she and Ariana did their best to prevent it. “Lydia?” That hadn’t been a name she expected to surface, and Nell hadn’t heard it since the brief conversation of guilt she and Luce had following her death. Besides, what did Morgan have to do with Lydia? The zombie had cared about the woman who kept innocent people in a basement? Nell wasn’t all that sure what to make of that— especially when paired with the recent revelation that Morgan had befriended Miriam as well. “Her losing her cool was related to you losing your footing or not?” There was a vagueness there that Nell wasn’t ready to let go of. Not when it concerned her sister, and her injuries. “You tumbled down the fucking peak,” Nell hissed, knowing that Luce was lucky to escape with her life, let alone her bones intact. 

Nell sighed, knowing it was hypocritical of her to call Luce out for refusing help while she was guilty of the very same. She knew accepting assistance wasn’t so easy as flipping a switch. “I know.” Apparently Nell was in a forgiving mood, too tired to fight in the wake of the heaviness the past few weeks had held. “Why are you helping the phoenix, though?” Nell knew her sister had a decent heart beneath her barb-like exterior, but she’d never much gone out of the way to help an utter stranger. “Obviously I’m glad someone is- I just didn’t expect it.”

Settling into the chair, Luce cast Nell a wan smile as she listened to her sister speak. As she unwound the bandages, Luce could see just how sloppy a job she’d done. Nothing looking infected-- she wasn’t that stupid, she’d done enough tattoo aftercare to know how to wash wounds-- but it didn’t look great either. The roses on her legs were bleeding red angry cuts, the backs of her knuckles were scratched and raw, and she knew her back looked fucked to hell. None of them seemed too serious though, so with enough time, they’d fade away. “Sage for cleansing and lavender for healing.” Luce repeated, wincing as one of the bandages pulled at scabbed skin. “Good to know.”

“Hey. What did I say about handles and flying off them?” Luce reminded her sister. She’d had a brief vision of what would happen if Morgan had let her die up there, if Morgan had shoved her just a bit too hard. And it was that endless cycle of blood and vengeance, one that she didn’t want Nell to continue. It didn’t matter that she was hurt, it really fucking didn’t. “I’m alive, aren’t I? Didn’t even break anything.” She said with another grin, though the motion made the cut over her eye sting.

Why are you helping the phoenix, though? Luce looked down at her hands. The million dollar question. Why. Why was she doing this? Why was she helping them? Because it was the right thing to do? That had never mattered much to her before. “I don’t know. Because I can. Because I should.” But even those weren’t quite right. She’d never been more powerless in her life, she didn’t possess the flames to be able to really help them. She didn’t need to help them, they were nothing to her. “I just… I don’t want more people to burn. You see the news?” She gestured to the night sky through the glass of the greenhouse. “There are fires sprouting all over the forest, burning shit, running animals off their land, threatening people. Adam called me to help him deal with the situation. And I know more about fire than almost anyone in this town.” Except Mom. And Dad. And probably Bea. “And fuck, I have to try and do something.” 

While Nell continued to work with Luce’s legs, she nodded in confirmation as her sister repeated the words. “Cleansing and healing- and lavender’s also about serenity, and the peace that comes about healing.” It was clear enough why these herbs had been chosen for a ritual such as this, used to drive out whatever had brought the phoenix to this point to begin with. Cleansing, healing, peace. It was a cycle she herself hadn’t yet mastered, not even sure whether she’d washed over the wounds of the past years. If Beltane was anything to judge by...Luce had taken better care of her spiritual wounds. But the problem with letting wounds heal was that you didn’t remember them as vividly once they were gone, no longer a thorn in your side as a reminder of how they’d come to be in the first place. Healed wounds could make for complacency, and make one forget to be cautious enough to avoid the same cuts and breaks a second time around. Her cuts made her stronger, more willing and ready to take care of the people she loved. More vigilant. Was it right to give that up?

A healthy eye roll later, and Nell was tugged from the stormy seas of her thoughts, all too ready to deny Luce’s words. “You know better than to think that’s flying off the handle,” she teased back. All three of them had more than healthy tempers, though all in their own ways. Nevertheless that didn’t stop them from burning bright and hot when the time called for it. Morgan losing her own temper was something of a surprise, but Nell knew Morgan would have never willingly hurt one of the Vurals— even in the case of Luce and her tendency to push away the kindest of people. Morgan was family as well, and she wouldn’t steal another sister from the Vurals. 

Lydia, the phoenix, Morgan, and not wanting to burn others paired with the fact that Nell was more than familiar with the expression on Luce’s face had the younger witch’s sneaking suspicion reaching a boiling point. She knew the look- had seen it and felt it enough in her own features to recognize it in a face that was half her own with their family resemblance. She let loose a long sigh, shoulders deflating while she finished working with Luce’s legs. “I’m glad you wanna help. And you’re obviously right about knowing fire. But it...doesn’t fix it. It won’t fix that way you feel inside about things that already happened.” Bringing food and caring for the families whose loved ones she stole with a rampant shark demon hadn’t fixed it. Hadn’t made it any easier. “I want you to help with the phoenix I just...don’t want you to be disappointed. If it doesn’t do what you think it’ll do when it’s all over.”

The peace that comes with healing. As thought such a thing existed. And maybe it did, but it wasn’t something that Luce was familiar with. But, had she ever really healed from the wounds that she’d suffered this last year? She didn’t know. Maybe this was part of the healing process too. The pain and the anguish and the guilt. Everyone thought of grief as just being sad and healing as just recovering from pain. When her grief had never just sadness-- it had been deep-seated rage and helplessness, frustration and guilt. And so was healing. “Sounds like it’s just what this person will need.” She said with a nod. “I don’t know how much I’ll need but I think a lot? The more we have, the more potent?”

Luce arched her good eyebrow at Nell, nonplussed by the eyeroll. “And that’s not what I’m talking about. Seriously, Nell. I’m okay.” She said, reaching out to grasp her sister’s hand, to squeeze it tight. Her hand was still hot against Nell’s skin, still burning with the flames that refused to listen to her call. She was still here. And she didn’t want Nell to go off and do something that might change that. 

Watching as Nell wound clean bandages over the wounds, freshly daubed with healing poultices, Luce reflected on how things had changed. A year ago, this would never have happened. A year ago, she would have licked her wounds back at the safe isolation of her cabin, maybe drowned her feelings away with more whiskey than she ought to have, and have pretended as though she was fine. But, she wasn’t pretending anymore. She was too tired to play those games, to pretend that the world was anything other than it was. But, as Nell’s words continued, Luce’s gaze snapped up, expression shifting. “What do you mean by that?” She asked abruptly. “I know that this doesn’t change anything I’ve done. And I’m not-- What do you think is going to happen? Nell, if this doesn’t work, I’m going to keep trying. I’m not letting this go.” I’m not letting them go.

Nell held Luce’s gaze for a long moment, feeling far too tired to actually address their shared trauma at the moment. They both knew what was on each other’s minds, and that was enough. She was so tired. They’d both been fighting for so long— all Nell had ever truly known how to do was fight. To refuse to give in, refuse to let the day win and simply allow herself a moment’s rest. She didn’t know who or what she would be without that fight, but occasionally she wondered what it was like for those who allowed themselves peace, whether they were truly happy with the battles they’d let lie, or if regrets haunted them as well. Maybe there was no actual winning. You just lived with the path you chose, and that was it. “Yep- sounds like just what the phoenix doctor ordered.” Not that she actually knew all that many details of the phoenix, but all anger stemmed from somewhere, and most often it was a product of hurt. “Sure, the more the merrier. It’s not really like you can over cleanse something when it comes to things like this.” 

The feel of Luce’s hand against her was enough to melt a little more tension from Nell’s shoulders, and the distant memory of crawling into bed with her sisters as children to hoard their shared elemental warmth was brought to mind while she let herself feel the momentary salve of nostalgia. “I know,” she assured softly. “I’m glad you are.” Her overprotectiveness wasn’t subtle, and Luce understood the source of it better than anyone in tandem with Bea.

Nell straightened from her place before Luce, standing as she began to rifle through the greenhouse towards her sage plants. “I just mean...I don’t know if this is what you’re thinking or whatever but- helping people isn’t gonna make the past sit right. Not really. And also...saving someone from something you think you’ve gone through isn’t gonna fix you either.” Hadn’t she just finished learning that with Bex? Or maybe they’d just been too different. Maybe the feeling of loneliness wasn’t as universal as Nell had thought, and she couldn’t fix her own by putting love into another person who was caught in the throes of it. “It’s not that I don’t think it’s gonna work, and I know you’ll keep trying. I just don’t want you to expect something of it that’s not gonna come.” 

Good to know that burning fuck tons of sage and lavender wasn’t going to create some kind of flower monster-- christ, Luce realized how fucking little she actually knew about magic outside of the flames. But, at least she had Nell here to help. Because she did, even if Luce didn’t often think about it that way. Her sisters were here. They were all here and, ever since they’d been excommunicated, they were all each other had to rely on. She had Nell, she had Bea, they were three and… in the past six months, she’d somehow forgotten about that. She’d drifted back to her old ways, of trying to handle things on her own. But she couldn’t now, it was impossible. She needed them, needed people. She couldn’t do this alone.

“Yeah. Same here.” Luce said, giving Nell’s hand another squeeze before slipping away, pulling the sloppy bandages from her hand to treat the wounds on her hands herself. The poultice stung a bit as she spread it over the open cuts. She kept her gaze trained on Nell as her sister moved away from her, aware of the distance that had just grown between them. “I’m not trying to make it sit right with me. And I’m not trying to fix me, either.” She said sharply. “I know that what I did was fucked. And maybe you don’t think it is, but I do and I’m making… some kinda peace with that.” She wound the bandages back around her hand, covering her raw skin once more.

Staring down at her hands, Luce could feel tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the stress, maybe it was just the crushing weight of everything that she’d been going through that had finally pushed her to the breaking point. Luce cleared her throat. “I just want to do something good, Nellie. I want to be someone good again.” She said, though the words came out as broken and hollow as she felt.

“I didn’t say that,” Nell replied instintcively in a defensive tone, even if she thought Lydia was far better off dead from what she’d heard. Even though she’d shared her own surprisingly introspective conversation with the fae, there was no question of whether or not the woman was doing more harm than good in the world. But she knew Luce wasn’t as accustomed to life and death judgements as she was, not when she’d simply been an artist with a grumpy streak. She didn’t want her sister to become wrapped up in such things anyway, not when it most often led to a life of constant stress, or having a target on one’s back. “But if you want peace...then you deserve it,” she finished stubbornly, her tone not quite matching the well meaning nature of the words. 

The hardness in Nell’s voice was washed away instantly as she looked over her shoulder back to her sister, recognizing the picture of a person desperately trying to keep themselves together at the seams. Had Nell been so wrapped up in her own world that she’d completely missed what was going on with Luce? She’d known her sister’s fire wasn’t in the best of straits, and that in itself was a flashing red sign in the direction of emotional turmoil. But she hadn’t thought— hadn’t realized it had gotten to such a point as this. Had Nell been too wrapped up in her own troubles and world to see it? A flash of guilt spread through her chest, and she went back to the other side of the greenhouse, moving to check over the bandages Luce had wrapped around her hands.

I just want to do something good. Nell could understand that— when one got to the place of wondering if they’d gone past the point of no return, and grasped at straws for a win. Nell needed a win, too. The feeling of being unclean after going too far...she’d felt it herself on more than one occasion though it was less centered on the suffering of her victim, and more about the shockwaves her actions had set into motion. Adam with August. Jared with the Ring. Bex with Frank. Dave and the shark demon. She’d made more than enough mistakes to know the feeling of desperately wanting to look for the light in oneself no matter how dim it might be- to know that you weren’t just darkness and sharp blades, as much a monster as the thing you’d killed. “I understand.” If this is what Luce needed to face the days coming, Nell would do anything in her power to make sure her sister got what she needed, that she crossed the finish line with arms raised, and a peaceful expression on her face. “So if that’s what you need...then that’s what you’ll get.”

Luce continued to stare at her hands, remembering the way that the blue flames had spread from them to consume the flesh from Lydia’s body, burning away the sinew and skin until there was nothing left. “Sure you didn’t.” Luce said, tone neutral. “I’ve spent the last six months trying to rationalize shit like… she would have hurt other people if I hadn’t killed her, she would have come back to kill us. But there’s no way of knowing if that’s true because I made a call that took away any chance she had to change her ways. I decided that I knew better. And I’m not… that’s not okay. It’s not fucking okay.” She said.

When Nell took her hands again, Luce let her sister fix the bandages wordlessly. For a year, it had seemed like everything she’d done had fallen into the same cycle of anger and rage and pain-- sometimes on the receiving end of that punishment, other times delivering it to others by her own hands. The anger and rage would burn wild and out of control until everything was dead and charred to dust. And it would lie low for some time, before flaring back to life because someone else was hurt, someone else was hurting her-- and endless fucking cycle. She just wanted to be free of it all. This phoenix situation, it was something... different. It was something that she could do and know, without a trace of doubt, that she had done something good. She just wanted to prove to herself that she was still capable of that. Of being more than just an instrument of death, bringing fire and ruin to the world around her. She just wanted to do one good thing. “Thanks Nell.” Luce said quietly. “Really. Thank you.”  

Nell couldn’t rightly say she agreed with Luce— not when she’d been ready and poised to kill Frank in the middle of the Outskirts. He’d been a threat so she was going to eliminate him. It was as simple as that. Except it hadn’t turned out to be so simple as Bex had begged for his life, and Nell had withdrawn her knife. How many chances did people deserve when it came to changing? She’d given Kyle his chance in that basement with Morgan and Bex, even taken it upon herself to help him succeed. But Kyle wasn’t a woman keeping people in his basement. It was different...wasn’t it? “I didn’t know Lydia well enough to know whether or not she’d change.” That was the gamble you took with people, the not knowing. And there was always the chance they could change back if they decided their new route was too hard. Would Lydia have made a 180 turn back to where she’d started if she’d decided ethical eating wasn’t quite the same? What was the straw that would break the back of Miriam’s new life?

“I don’t know if it was wrong,” Nell finally admitted. “I don’t know if it being wrong would have kept me from doing it, too. Probably not. And I’d probably still do it if no one stopped me or you hadn’t already done it.” She was selfish with her wanting to protect the people she cared about. “But I...don’t think it’s fair to condemn yourself with it. Maybe rationalizing it isn’t the answer, but burning yourself at the stake isn’t either.” Nell swallowed briefly, still not all that accustomed to being so open and honest with her sister. “And...I think you deserve to forgive yourself instead of needing to use a phoenix to prove you’re worthy of it. I think you’re worth it on your own. Just because of who you are. I think you can be good without having something to point at as proof.” 

But it wasn’t about that. Not really. Why did Nell want to summon the murderous selkie to her? For control. To have just one thing she knew she could do right. “But I think I get it. Sometimes you just...need one thing to go right. Just to know that...that you’re not a fuck up who ruins everything they touch.” Nell didn’t have fire like he sister’s, but she’d always been just as destructive. “There’s one thing you can do, and not burn a hole through. So...we’ll make this work.”

“Neither did I. But Morgan seems to think that she could have. And maybe she’s right, maybe she’s not. But we’ll never really know.” Luce said wearily. She’d spent so many nights mulling over that exact question. “I don’t want to make those calls, Nell. I don’t want to hold someone’s life in my hand and decide that I’m worth more than them. Because that’s exactly what happened to us and I’m… I’m fucking tired of it.” This town, this fucking town. She’d grown up here, been a part of this world but only now had she really learned the price that White Crest demanded of the people who lived here. This town was steeped in blood and suffering and senseless death. She didn’t want to contribute to that anymore than she already had.

“Maybe.” Luce shrugged, before regretting the action as a fresh wave of pain ran down the wounds on her back. “I also think you have to say that as my sister.” She said, a ghost of her old sarcastic grin flitting across her face. Luce stood up from the chair, collecting the herbs that Nell had gathered for her. Sage and lavender. Healing and cleansing. And the promise of her sister to help her see this through. Side by side, they’d be able to move forward. Luce didn’t know how Nell was holding up with all the grief and trauma they’d experienced in the last year and she wished that she did. Once this was all over, once the dust settled and she could finally rest… She’d try harder to be there for her sister. For both of them. Maybe Nell said that she didn’t need to prove herself, but Luce couldn’t believe that. If she couldn’t be a good person, at the very least, she could be a good sister. 

Reaching out, Luce took hold of Nell’s hand again, looking at her sister intently. “We’ll make this work.” 

[shintorikhazumi]

I Have Two Sisters?! Chapter 2: The Eldest Sister, The Younger Sister, and The Youngest

A/N: This chapter is more on Diana and Claudine’s lives and backgrounds. I feel like most of the initial chap plans I have are. Weiss gets her background turn soon tho. She still has some thoughts from her point of view. Some observations. It’s kinda different for her since she’s actually been around Jacques as opposed to Claudine and Diana who have been away from the dude, practically not knowing him at all. Maybe around chapter 4-ish. Rubes, Akko, and Maya come in the next chapter, so I hope you all can hold out until then, haha.

I personally love this concept so much! Like really! I keep writing out plot lines and paragraphs ahead. This is clearly a self-indulgent fic, I apologize.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

 I Have Two Sisters?! Chapter 2: The Eldest Sister, The Younger Sister, and The Youngest

For how shitty he was as a father- and a person in general, Jacques Schnee sure had the devil’s luck. It made perfect sense as he was basically a demon at this point with all that he’s probably done, both known and hidden from the light.

How could someone acquire so much fortune? Riches, intelligence and cunning brought about by his insane amounts of greed, looks (Weiss gagged so hard thinking about it, though it was relatively true), charm that deceived women… or deceit masked as charm? Anyway. He had it all.

Plus, he had three gorgeous daughters to boot.

Had he exchanged his soul for this amount of good karma?

Well, it didn’t matter.

If the angel of death wanted nothing to do with him, then it probably wouldn’t mind if three angel-looking ladies took care of the job instead… right?

They were certainly angry enough to kill.

Or at least Weiss was.

Weiss had been brandishing her sword for the better half of the last two hours as she remained seated on the couch next to an equally fuming Claudine, exchanging opinions about their insufferable… sperm donor, or whatever.

Diana lay peacefully unaware, head on the golden-blonde’s lap, still unconscious since fainting at their front door. The other two…sisters- gosh, it was so weird thinking about it- didn’t quite know what to do with her, so they simply moved her over so she could rest more comfortably.

At first, they had planned on moving to the kitchen area to talk things out, and leave their other sibling to the peace of a quiet room, however, as if sensing the lack of presence, Diana had begun to toss and turn restlessly, hands and arms seeking out something. Upon grasping the edge of Claudine’s shirt, it seemed as though she had no plans of letting go, and thus, they ended up in the position they were in now, all squeezing together on their decently-sized couch.

“-And so, he told me I wasn’t old enough to live on my own, and I was wondering what he meant, because I am most certainly over eighteen! And then he implied something about Japan and that-! That was how I found out about being sent here and… we’re here now.” Weiss had just finished telling her side of this ridiculous story, pissed off being an understatement as to how she felt.

She didn’t want to be a criminal, but Jacques Schnee had a neck that just looked so perfect to slice in half.

Claudine would have laughed at how red Weiss’ face had become, but she refrained, breathing in, readying the words to her own tale. They had broached the topic of how they got here while talking about the house and their first meeting, and so they backtracked a bit to their own backgrounds and history prior to their father’s decision of sending them all to this place in Japan.

“I used to study here, actually. It’s only been a little over two years since I left.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I studied at a music and arts academy and mainly dabbled in theatre.”

“You say, “dabbled”, but I wonder if it’s really just that.” Weiss chuckled, secretly studying her companion’s features. Something in the back of her mind told her that the name, ‘Claudine’ was one she’d heard of before, especially since it had involved music. But maybe she could look into it later. “Sorry, go on.” Weiss encouraged after realizing she had interrupted her sister’s story.

“I was offered a chance at an exchange program in the school that basically “made” my mother’s previous career. It was in Paris and…” Claudine looked like she had loved and regretted at the same time every inch of that experience.

“I get it.” Weiss whispered, not meeting the actress’ gaze. “The biggest opportunity of your life. It could change everything.” Weiss turned back to meet rose-red eyes in understanding. “But that change isn’t always the best.” Claudine nodded. “It’s kind of like that meme, the one that goes ‘but at what cost’.” They shared a light laugh at that, but it seemed as though their chatter was enough to rouse the bundle of British girl on Claudine’s lap.

“Hrrngghnmm… where…?” Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands, Diana blinked slowly, rising up to sit on the couch properly. She took in her surroundings, the unfamiliar interior, and the two people she could barely remember. She would have panicked and created as much distance between herself and the strangers, thinking she might have been kidnapped, but it was like she didn’t even have enough energy for that.

“Good morning to you as well.” Claudine jested, patting stray tufts of curly hair into place. “I hope you slept well, because we have a lot to talk about.”

Diana was still in the middle of processing everything in her drowsy state, so she could only nod in minimal understanding.

“Great. So Diana,” Weiss stole her attention.

“How did you-“

“Well, as you failed to introduce yourself to us right before fainting,” Diana visibly winced, and Claudine had chided Weiss on being a bit mean. The white-haired heiress rolled her eyes, but apologized anyway before continuing. “-we took the liberty of checking your pockets for any identification. Don’t worry, we didn’t take anything, and we didn’t snoop around important things that weren’t your ID. Rest assured. At least we respect privacy… unlike certain assholes…” She whispered the last part to herself.

A nod.

“Good, so. Now that introductions are out of the way,” Weiss stood up in front of the pair, hands on her hips. “It’s now time for some very important questions.”

“…such as?” Diana required some elaboration.

“Such as… whatever this thing is.” She stated, spinning her finger about in the air, gesturing to the three of them. “Between us.”

“But I thought…” Diana trailed off, instinctively looking to Claudine for support. The latter got the message.

“Aren’t we siblings? Sisters? Well… half-sisters, but,” she scratched the back of her head, feeling a little shy. “Sisters nonetheless.” Diana nodded in agreement, feeling a little warm deep down.

“Fine. So we’re sisters.” Weiss crossed her arms over her chest. “But there are certain things we have to agree on. After all, we don’t even know each other. Like, at all. How do we know who’s in charge in this house? Money concerns, I’m sure we all have individual banks and means. But things like property and document processes, who gives the rules and all that jazz… Or do we all just go on with our lives, each to their own.” She finished, awaiting the pair’s reply.

“I-…” Diana found herself lost for words once more. She couldn’t admit that she actually fancied the idea of having two new sisters, having wanted a family because she never really had one apart from her mother who had already long since passed. After that event, she had always been alone. She had been an only child, after all. She had always wondered what it would have been like had she had siblings, like her twin cousins. Her mother never married again, nor did she have the chance to as fate was so cruel. She was Diana’s only memory of family, along with a few of their servants who were loyal to them to the core.

But really, it was different when it was family that shared the same blood in their veins. Though quite a number would argue that some friends stuck closer than brothers, there were still instances where blood would prove to be thicker than water.

Even if it was diluted by half-built relationships.

Claudine noticed her distress. It was as though she always did. Placing a hand over Diana’s, she squeezed comfortingly before turning to Weiss.

“After speaking with you earlier, I’m sure we all need family of some sort. I don’t mind acting-“ Claudine caught herself, proceeding to shake her head. “-No, being sisters with you both. I think I’d actually like it. I’ve never had siblings as I was an only child. But then I did stay in a dorm in high school, and being around same-aged peers was truly a beneficial experience, living alongside people I grew to know and trust.”

Diana gave her a relieved smile, and the French responded in kind.

“I believe we could be the same if we tried.”

Weiss sighed, but she was smiling deep down. She had an older sister back home, and a younger brother as well, though they weren’t as close as she was with the eldest. Still, she knew they were all just struggling in their father’s grasp, forced to obey his whims. The two older sisters had managed to wriggle out one way or another, but Weiss sometimes regretted not helping Whitley be able to do the same. Maybe one day, she could introduce him to two sisters who looked like they had so much care and experience to share. Maybe they could all be a family together. Even if they all just consisted of siblings.

“I suppose I can be the eldest then.” It was neither proposition nor suggestion. Weiss was attempting to establish it as fact.

“Why you?” Claudine questioned with a brow raised.

Diana didn’t care who was in charge, she was happy enough to feel the inclusion in a family.

“Well, seeing as I’m the legitimate child here-“ It was like everything froze. There was a cut of silence in the air, kind of like those disc scratches you would hear often in videos when someone made a mistake, or a fumble and everyone realized. Yes, Weiss had suddenly realized what she had just said, and immediately regretted it.

And her string of apologies ensued.

“I’m… I’m so sorry. Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Her eyes were panicked, flickering quickly between Diana and Claudine’s shocked ones, a bit too shaken to come up with a comment or response. “I’m so sorry. I really am. I apologize. I deeply apologize.” Weiss throat ran dry, it was like she was choking. Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes in her state of adrenaline with all the heightened emotions she had endured throughout the day.

She knew she had just crossed a horrible, horrible line. She bowed before them deeply, a perfect ninety degrees, not knowing what to do to salvage this situation. She didn’t know much of Diana’s story, but from what she’d gotten from Claudine’s side, as well as observing Diana through their interactions, she was fairly sure that they had been through so many bad things.

So many.

“I’m so sorry. Di-Diana… Claudine, I’m… I’m sorry.” She coughed out. “I can’t believe it… I’m just like… I’m just like that man.” She felt a tear slip out of her eyes, but before more could, a handkerchief was held out to her by a hand that slightly tremored.

“No. You’re not. You’re not like him.” Claudine was someone who was quite good at comforting others, Diana and Weiss realized. “We all aren’t.” All this time since they met, she had been the one to offer it. They had to be sure to thank her and express their appreciation later. They had all the time to. “We’ll do our best to reject his blood that runs through our veins.” She said with a conviction that the two could only agree to. But there was just something about that last bit,

“Pfft-“ Diana ended up cracking first. “I don’t think that’s possible,” She looked to Claudine, mirth in her gaze, something different from the clouds that had shrouded them this whole time. “but… we can at least deny his existence, if you’d like.”

The two blinked, Diana saying her first complete sentence, smooth sentence catching them unaware. It only took them a second to adjust to it however as they giggled along.

“Oh, I’d definitely like that.”

 //-//-//-//-//

 They ended up deciding who would be the “eldest” by asking each other’s ages and birthdates, something they should have done earlier, they now realized, sharing another laugh at their silliness.

They were all currently nineteen years of age, and about to enter their first year of university. At this revelation, they wondered why it was that their ages were so close to one another, particularly Diana and Weiss.

While the former was born in April, the latter’s birthday landed on the fifteenth of May. Claudine had the slightest gap from them, being born a few months later in august.

They tried to reason it out, Weiss trying to share bits and pieces of information she had uncovered after snooping around in her father’s office, as well as things she had heard during her mother’s many lamentations.

Over dinner, their talk led them to the deduction that on the particular year when they had been conceived, Jacques Schnee had a world-wide business operation going on, travelling from place to place constantly, checking on his various corporation branches almost monthly, staying for days to weeks on end in some countries.

Through the magical powers of the internet, they were able to dig up hidden articles that spoke of their biological parent’s notoriety for sleeping around in the many places he visited, and by the universe’s cruel plot, got the other two mothers pregnant around the time his wife was. Weiss had probably been conceived when he came back home from his visit to England which might explain why Diana was now the eldest.

“We should have him castrated.” Weiss proposed, and the other two only laughed nervously, knowing she was dead serious.

Despite this infuriating truth, they were somehow thankful that it allowed them to find each other. It was a mutual feeling that they believed they’d get along nicely.

Their dinner ended with them cleaning up the dishes and kitchen together before wishing one another a goodnight, separating into their individual rooms to unpack and get cleaned up to catch their repose from this stressful day.

Diana had finished quickly, now fresh from a warm bath and changed into comfortable sleeping attire. She fell onto the soft mattress that was a little too big for her taste. It was like the one back at home. Simply large and comfortable, but never comforting. Always so cold because Diana could never warm it all up. Or maybe that was just in her heart.

The peaceful rest she had wanted to attain did not come to her. Instead, she was plagued with nightmares of abuse. The abuse she had had to sustain while in the Cavendish manor, while in the branch house, everywhere that had the family’s eyes on her.

Cold blue eyes, freezing, burning. Yells and screams, screeches, insults, the pressured gazes, the false smiles of the peers and fans that surrounded her. The scrutiny and judgment. The rumors.

The emotional pains, the mental torture, the spiritual crushing, the social stress…

The whip that beat down on her legs, on her back, on her arms, and on her face at time.

And then-

Diana screamed.

In agony, in pain. A deep red gash on her hand never ceased in its bleeding. Her nerves stung, her eyes did too. The pain was searing, she couldn’t take it, it hurt so much. Her hands shook, they quivered, her body wretched and writhed, but still that unforgiving hand still raised the bloody tool for one more-

“I BEG YOU, PLEASE STOP-!”

“DIANA!” Claudine and Weiss had barged through the door, having heard the tormented cries of their housemate and had made a mad dash for her room.

“Diana?! Are you okay?” The said girl remained writhing, needily gasping for air. Claudine attempted to shake her awake. “Diana! Wake up!”

Eyelids flew open, revealing pained ceruleans, hazy from the dream and unfocused. Diana continued her sobbing, but now quieter as she slowly ran out of tears. Her sisters waited for her, understood that she was unable to speak, possibly for moments, possibly for the entire night.

They tried to get her back into bed, hoping she could get more rest at the very least. She must have been exhausted with whatever war she had in her dreams.

But Diana didn’t want to go back to sleep, clinging onto Claudine strongly. To her, it felt as though she was walking right back into the lion’s den, returning to torture’s waiting arms; but Claudine’s arms, she much more preferred. It felt of a motherly presence. When she realized this, Diana felt the embarrassment sinking in at the knowledge that Claudine was the youngest sister and she was the eldest.

And yet, here they are.

Still, she didn’t like being in the bed, she didn’t like how unfamiliar it was.

The girls agreed to move to the living room. While Claudine layed out a few extra foams and blankets for them to settle down into, Weiss prepared some warm, tea to help calm Diana down.

She wasn’t as good at Claudine when it came to dealing with people’s anxieties, Weiss admitted. But she wasn’t bad at it. So, offering Diana a cup gently, she tried to reassure her with a smile and a soft tone.

“It’s p-peppermint.” Damn stutters.

They sat in front of one another on a pile of warm blankets, no words, just the sounds of sipping and blowing of tea.

Claudine was fine with backrubs and handholds, and the like. But anything more than that felt like crossing a line, especially with strangers. Even if those strangers happened to be your family. Huh. This is what it was like to have awkward moments of being a family with strangers. She thought it was such a rare thing, usually portrayed only in books and television or in the plays she did.

But now it she was literally living that odd trope.

Huh.

And the silence continued. And continued. And continued… and still would have painfully continued, if Weiss could take the atmosphere still.

She couldn’t.

So what better way to break the ice than to talk about their horrible shared father?

“Ahh… My dad lied to me about a lot of things.” She began, stretching her arms up into the air, hand still holding her empty cup. That caught her siblings’ attention as they were taken into another conversation. “This place too. He said he had gotten me an apartment. I thought he was being pretty considerate to give me a place to live on my own- ah, not that I dislike staying with you both I just… didn’t foresee this development.”

“I doubt any of us did.” Claudine followed-up.

“This house… even if it’s smaller than the mansion where I grew up… It’s kinda big for just three girls, huh.” Weiss murmured, suddenly feeling the urge to apologize at mentioning wealth when she hadn’t a clue of the living situations her “sisters” had had to endure before this point.

They shook their heads, as if they read her thoughts, knowing.

Diana began murmuring coldly. “My mother’s family is very well-known.” Her younger sisters perked up at this, finally having the chance to hear the eldest’s background pre-incident. “We… were kicked out of the main house in England after, well… after me.” She hung her head low, as if she were shaed of her own existence. And she very likely was.

Diana jumped at the two warm touches on each of her hand, Claudine and Weiss taking one each, squeezing encouragingly.

Diana continued. “We lived in a traditional Japanese manor after moving to this country. A branch of our family used to live there, but at that time, it was unoccupied. It was fancy and large. Certainly made for the luxurious life. Though I never felt rich regardless.” The girls nodded in understanding, and Diana ended her piece.

Claudine then explained that while she understood their sentiments, she was rather satisfied with her life. She had everything she needed. Her adoptive father bought them a larger than average house, and they were a happy family together. Then she stopped.

This time, it was her who received the squeezes of comfort, Weiss now taking her free hand as they sat in this odd circle of angsty reminiscing.

“When he died, we sold the house, not solely for monetary need, but because maman couldn’t take the pain of being reminded of him.” Claudine finished. Weiss just had to comment, though.

“Maman…”

“M-mother!”

Everyone chuckled at that.

“Mothers. Fathers. Family, huh…” Diana tested the foreign words on her tongue. “I… I had my mother for a time, but after that…” She trailed off, a forlorn expression taking place on her features once more.                “I’ve never had a family.”

“…”

“If you’ve never had a family, then we’ll be you family.” Weiss, ever the breaker of silence, declared.

“We will be your sisters, your mothers, your friends, and your fathers. We will be everything for you.” Claudine added, wanting to share these feelings, just like how her mom had made her feel when it was just the two of them remaining.

Those words were too good to be true. Too kind. Too rewarding a promise. Diana searched their eyes. She searched their body languages, their words, and their souls.

She searched and found their loyalty, sincerity, and truthfulness.

And she cried.

 //-//-//-//-//

 They woke up late the following morning, opting to have some toast with jam and hot milk. An easy fix from the things they found in their already stacked cupboards. While cleaning up after a filling meal, they heard a phone go off in one of the rooms.

Identifying it as hers, Claudine goes off to retrieve it, her sisters waving her off as they continued cleaning up.

A few quiet minutes passed, and then the actress came bounding down the hall. frantic in her running about. Once she reached her worried companions, she cries a heart-wrenching sob. The two elders asked what was wrong, and when Claudine says that she had received a call from the hospital, the two are willing to accompany her with no questions asked.

They soon learn of what Claudine had been unable to tell them the day before. Her mother who had been admitted in the hospital for a while, and had been the primary reason for the actress to return to Japan, had a critical attack that morning, and upon their arrival at the hospital, she now rested unconscious.

Diana and Weiss did not know how to comfort Claudine the way she did for them. When they met her, she was feisty, determined, willful, independent and strong. Able to stand on her own two feet, so to speak.

But now they realized she was only able to stand because she had someone behind her, supporting her always. Unconditionally.

And that support was now laying motionless on a hospital bed, the beeps of a machine eerily looming around their atmosphere, rousing such scary prospects.

Claudine sobbed hours upon hours straight, and the pair could only helplessly watch her do so.

They could do nothing, not while the girl’s mother was in such a critical state, no one knowing if she’d ever wake up again.

---

She woke up.

It was late in the afternoon, and Claudine had fallen asleep from all the crying, head rested on her arms on her mom’s bedside.

The woman blinked the sleep away, eyes scanning the room and landing on two strangers, two women who awkwardly bowed their introductions, trying to explain why they were in the room of someone they had just met today. “Hello, um.” They bowed slightly. “We are… well… we are S-Saijou-no… Claudine’s sisters.” One with streaks of mint in her blonde locks tried, scared of the older woman’s reaction to this news.

“I know.”

“What?!” Shocked, they listened to the giggling mother explain why.

She began to express her regrets with the man known as Jacques. It was a mistake. Everything involving him was.

It was a corporation party for a show she had performed in. And the man was one of the sponsors. She had been forced to drink, coerced, probably slipped something strange, and when she woke up…

Weiss face was contorted in disgusted anger. “That man should just get arrested already.” She seethed. They knew it would take a little more effort than just reporting it to police, however. Especially since it had been nineteen years ago. But hey, he had so many faults, couldn’t they just… get him for any of those?

And then she remembered why Diana and Claudine were claimed as his children in the first place. He always tried to look for loopholes out of prison. He just had so much undeserved power. Weiss hoped it would bite him in the ass one day.

They swapped stories until the orange sky turned dark blue, and visiting hours were almost coming to a close. Claudine was breathing softly, eyes puffy, body relaxed. Her mother petted through golden mane, leaning down to plant a kiss on the crown of her head. She then turned to her daughter’s sisters, rose-red eyes, making a life-time request, plea to them.

“Please… take care of her.” They saw her fist tighten for a moment, before relaxing again. “She is the love of my life.” If Weiss used to think that that title could only be applied to romantic partners, her perception was given a fresh wash.

Love of your life. To be able to call someone that, such a pure unadulterated love towards another human being... it was something special. And probably something she herself had yet to experience. Her younger sister truly was blessed, as she claimed. It was clear why she grew up, able to be satisfied with her family life. Claudine surely felt the same for her mother.

Maybe someday, they too…

They stayed a few more minutes, simply waiting until Claudine would wake up. She soon did, and they pushed her to spend the remaining time with her mom right until the last minute before visiting hours would officially be over.

They thought they would have to pry Claudine away from her mother as she had spent almost the entire time hugging her, speaking from time to time, but mostly just holding her wordlessly.

But the girl really was a mature, grounded lass. It was amazing, inspiring, and… a bit sad, they’d admit. What else had she been through to grow this resilient?

They walked home a slow pace. No one had said any word.

The nighttime breeze hit them coldly and they shivered. Then, each sister awkwardly took a hand, at the same time, as if they shared some form of telepathy. It made them feel warmer.

And so they continued their walk home together-

There was a collective growl of stomachs, along wlith blushing and chuckling.

And so they continued their walk to the nearest convenience store instead, grabbing a few chicken nuggets and hotdog buns, some juice, and a few chocolates. Then they went on home.

They learned a lot about each other today. However, it appeared as though there was even more to learn. There always was when it came to getting to know other people. And along with becoming familiar with each other, they’d discover many more of each other’s struggles and troubles.

They’d encounter their own as a family together as well.

But it really didn’t matter anymore, did it?

They could conquer anything. They really did believe they could conquer anything.

Together, they could.

 A/N: It’s 2:15am and my brain is fried. I have to re-enroll for my second semester classes and make my mom’s modules haha. Anyway, The picture I have for this AU’s Diana is actually still reserved, but the soft kind around her sisters. She’ll be cold around other people tho. Kind of meek, in a sense, but that has to do with how bad she’s had it growing up. And although Claud is the youngest, she acts like the mother. Weiss, I can definitely see as the middle child haha. Weiss’ tsundere aspects and Claudine’s slightly prideful self make for a wonderful dynamic in interactions. I love it. Diana is like the regulator of their passionate bickering. It’s like icecream on a hot cookiebrowny. I think.

Comments, kudos, reblogs, let’s go? Please? I’m desperate for feedback haha.

~Shintori Khazumi

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Holding On for Dear Life Pt3

Genre: Fan Fiction (Vikings) Pairing: Hvitserk/OFC Warnings: Medical, Illness, Sexual Content Rating: M Length: Multi Chapter Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

thank you @flowers-in-your-hayr​ for the header

Catch Up Here

“I have decided that I hate your brother.” Emmer declared.

“Which one?” Hvitserk raised his eyes from his phone.

“Ivar,” Emmer groaned, flopping down on the couch beside Hvitserk.

“What did he do now?”

“He's been texting me all week. He's mad at me, because you said you wouldn't go on that stupid date.” Emmer chuckled, “told you that you should go.”

“No.” Hvitserk shook his head, putting his phone down before he sent Ivar a rather nasty text.

“Then tell him that you lied, we're not together, and to stop texting me.”

Shaking his head, Hvitserk sighed. If that would actually work, he would do it.  Ivar was relentless when he wanted something, his brothers often blamed their mother for that. Ever since Ivar was a small child, he was never told “no” and meant it. As he grew older, Hvitserk seemed to be the one to tell him the two letter word the most.

“You know that is useless, but when I see him,” Hvitserk smirked, “I will tell him that you said fuck off.”

“Fuck you.” Emmer shoved him in the arm, laughing when he nearly fell over.

“I mean here? In the living room? What if someone saw?” Holding a hand to his chest, Hvitserk gasped.

“Why are we friends?”

“Because you will never find another person as amazing, fantastic, or handsome as me.” Hvitserk continued to laugh.

Emmer rolled her eyes, shaking her head at him. No matter how much she joked, Hvitserk would never be replaced and they both knew it. Snuggling into the fleece blanket on the couch, Emmer snickered and laid over with her head on Hvitserk's lap. Closing her eyes, she hummed happily.

“Seriously, why don't you go and Ivar will stop terrorizing us all.”

“Because, I don't want to, and Ivar needs to learn that he isn't the boss of everyone.” Hvitserk gently ran his hand over Emmer's arm.

“You Lothbrok men are impossible.”

“We are, it's a trait that had been passed down through generations. From our ancestors, all the way back to when our family were fierce and ferocious Vikings.” he snorted at his own attempt to be a master story teller.

“Sure, sure. Of course, Vikings. And my family lived with King Henry VIII.” Emmer snorted.

“Could be possible.”

“Unlikely, but sure why not. Who told you that you were Vikings?”

“My dad.”

“Of course he did.” Emmer giggled. Leave it to Ragnar to come up with an elaborate story about his family's history. Anything to make himself seem interesting and slightly more important than his brother. “How are your parents anyway? Alfred asked me about them this morning, I just told him that they were doing fine. I guess I really haven't seen them in a while.”

“Mom is still mad and dad is still attempting to sow his seed in foreign fields. Same old shit.” Leaning forward, Hvitserk reached for his glass of water. “So yeah, they're fine. Mom is trying to get us together this weekend, for dinner on Sunday. Do you want to come?”

Emmer scrunched up her nose, gently shaking her head side to side, as if really weighing the outcome to her next words. “Eh, sure.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Unless, you're asking me because you think it will be a good chance to show Ivar that we're actually together. Then no.” She tilted her head, looking up at Hvitserk with innocent eyes.

“I was just thinking it would save you from cooking.”

“Then I shall be there. What time?”

“I'll pick you up.” Hvitserk left the details vague, mainly because he wasn't sure that this was even a dinner open to friends. Ah well, he'd tell his mother that Emmer was coming right before they arrived. Aslaug was always happy to see Emmer, anyway.

If Emmer was present, then whatever bullshit his family was going to be thrown into, would be mild. They behaved better when there was someone to watch them. Not that Emmer would care. She would never judge, but she enjoyed watching the Lothbrok drama unfold. They were way more entertaining than her own family.

Her parents were divorced and hadn't spoke to one another since she was seven. They were never together and it seemed like both sides were happier that way. Whatever.

“Anything I should bring?”

“Yourself.”

And the biggest bottle of the strongest alcohol she could find. That went without saying.

“Aww, well then I think I can manage. Oh, what about some of those flowers your mom likes? The purple and pink ones that I got her for her birthday?”

“If you want.”

“I'll pick some up this week. Also, do I need to dress up or can I come casually?”

“Casual is probably best. Hell, come in your pjs for all my mother will care.”

Emmer's eyes lit up and her shoulder shook with a hidden laugh. “I sleep naked, you know. Are you sure?”

“Well, I've seen you naked. And so has Gyda. What's the rest of my family?”

“Ah, well, when you put it that way...” Emmer winked and burst into a fit of laughter.

“You're terrible.”

“Details.” Emmer smirked, groaning when her phone buzzed on the table beside her. No doubt it was Ivar, again. “What's it say?” she asked Hvitserk. Leaning forward to see the screen, Hvitserk picked up the phone.

“It's my brother,” He handed the phone to Emmer. “Bjorn, not Ivar.”

“Still annoying, but he signs my paycheck.” Emmer sat up, her head leaving Hvitserk's lap, in favour or reading a text from Bjorn.

The eldest Lothbrok child, via Ragnar's first marriage, Bjorn had set the bar for the rest of his brothers. With the exception of Gyda, who could burn the world down and Ragnar would still insist she was the greatest child in the family. Everyone lived in the shadow of the great Bjorn Lothbrok. A former athlete turned businessman, he ran his own company in partner to his uncle, Rollo.

Emmer had taken on a job with Bjorn, because it allowed her to work at her own pace, even when she wasn't feeling the best. Bjorn took into consideration that his Online Marketing Director – unofficial title – would have days where she wasn't up for an office job, or even weeks where she may not go further than her couch. He never put pressure on Emmer and was rather fair with the hours he expected her to work each week.

“Mmm, I have said nothing, but your dad isn't going to be happy.”

“Why?”

“According to these details that Bjorn has sent me, it seems your uncle is buying part of Bjorn's share in the company. Didn't your dad want Bjorn to sell that to Ivar?”

“Probably, fucked if I know.” Hvitserk grumbled. He stayed away from business. He preferred to work two jobs, making ends meet. His first job was a cook at a brunch cafe downtown. When he wasn't there, he worked part time coaching youth league football. The odd time he would coach one on one.

“I guess we will find out soon enough.”

“You will probably know before me, but if this comes up during dinner, we're sneaking out the back.”

“Deal.”

No strangers to dodging dinner drama, Emmer would sit around all night watching the family implode, if Hvitserk would let her. The typical Lothbrok dinner drama started with Ivar and Sigurd in a fight. Or when Ragnar invited his ex wife and didn't tell Aslaug. An argument over business would be far less entertaining.

Hvitserk loved dinner with Emmer's family. He had yet to dine with them and witness a fist fight before the food made it onto the table.

The first time Emmer had ever been to dinner at the Lothbrok's, she had witnessed Bjorn and Ubbe in a fist fight during dessert. Someone thought it was a good idea to tell everyone that Bjorn's ex wife had been sleeping with Ubbe. Never had Emmer been so delighted to witness a fight. Odd, but she enjoyed the chaos.

Currently Bjorn was separated and Ubbe was divorced. Although, it would be amusing if Ubbe was sleeping with Bjorn's new girlfriend. Who was Emmer kidding, Gunnhild was way too smart to fuck Ubbe, while dating his brother.

“Should I make brownies?” Emmer glanced at Hvitserk. Hvitserk shrugged. “You know, for dinner on Sunday.”

“If you want. I mean, you can make them right now. If you want, I won't pass up on brownies.” Hvitserk laughed, tapping his hand against his shockingly taught tummy. How he stayed so lean, was the world's greatest mystery.

“Or, you could make them and I will dictate how.”

“No, I'd probably burn the place down.”

“Says the man who works in a restaurant.” Emmer sat up. “Does your boss know this?”

“Shh,” Hvitserk held his finger to his lips. “It's supposed to be a secret.”

Brows raised, Emmer nodded lightly. “Ah, got it. Your secret is safe with me.” Shoving her shirt sleeves up, she stood, stretching.

“I'm touched.” Hvitserk leaned back on the couch, covering his head with his hands. “You're the best.”

“Am I, or do you only say that when you want something?” Sticking out her tongue, Emmer teased him.

“Always. You know it, don't be difficult.”

“Sure, sure. I am going to make brownies, then I am going to reply to Bjorn. After that, I need more details on who is coming to dinner Sunday.”

The guest list had zero impact on Emmer, her attendance, or the dinner. She only wanted to know, to sit around the rest of the week trying to figure out who would be the first to cause drama. From Hvitserk's knowledge she had the usual suspects. His parents, siblings, Emmer, family friends Floki and Helga. Bjorn's kids, would possibly be there, and that was it.

Sunday morning, Emmer woke earlier than usual to bake a pan of brownies. Not wanting them to be too hot when she arrived at the Lothbrok's. Dinner was at three, which meant Hvitserk picked her up around one. Aslaug would surely lecture him if he was any later.

Despite Hvitserk's insistence that this was a casual Sunday dinner, Emmer put a little effort into looking somewhat decent. A comfortable a line dress, loose enough to fit a pair of men's boxer shorts under neath without showing. A free swinging pouch was nerve wracking for anybody. Emmer would not be caught in the middle of dinner feeling like she was literally about the lose her shit. A light snicker at the latter thought, she swept a quick bit of lip gloss on and she was ready.

Brownies in hand, flowers, and a small bag with extra clothing – just in case, Emmer met Hvitserk at the door before he had a chance to come in.

“Wow,” He whistled softly. “I feel under dressed.”

“You look fine, besides it's not like this is even that fancy. I've had it forever.” Emmer rolled her eyes, locking the door behind them.

“I know,” Hvitserk shrugged, he had been with her when she bought the poppy red dress. “but you still look lovely. I may need to change.”

“What's wrong with your jeans and shirt? You look good. May wanna fix your hair a bit, but you look good.” Emmer led the way down the hall.

Ragnar and Aslaug lived about an hour outside of the city, a small village, where most of the families were well off or pretending to be. Nobody drove anything cheaper than a range rover and every house had a front gate. This had been the house they'd moved into after Hvitserk had left home. Although they kept a room for each of their children, just in case.

The first time Emmer had came to visit, she'd nearly lost her eyes from their sockets. This house was massive, the yard looked like something from a posh magazine, and inside was elegant but cozy. Stepping inside always felt like walking into a country cabin.

“Mom? Dad?” Hvitserk called walking into the house. Gyda's car was in the drive, along with Sigurd's. There was no screaming or yelling, which meant Bjorn or Ubbe were bringing Ivar.

“Hvitserk?” Aslaug called out, hurrying into the entrance. “Oh, Emmer!” Her face turned from anxious to calm and relaxed. “How lovely to see you.” she hugged her son's best friend. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you. So do you.” Emmer hugged the tall woman, pulling back to hand her the flowers. “These are for you Oh, I love your haircut.”

Hvitserk rolled his eyes at the exchange. Leave it to Emmer to butter up his mother.

“I wanted you to know, that I have several dishes set aside just for you.” Aslaug accepted the  flowers and smiled warmly.

“Oh, you didn't have to do that.” Emmer smiled, thankful that Aslaug had tried to make her life a little easier. Sometimes eating food that she didn't have a hand in making was a nightmare. Limited diets were a hassle that nobody should ever have to endure.

“Non sense, Hvitserk said you were coming and I wanted to make sure you had a choice.” Aslaug gave her a tight one armed hug. “I made it all specific, no need to worry about running into something that you can't have.”

“Well thank you, really. I appreciate it.”

“So, mom, anything you need help with?” Hvitserk reminded them that he was still present, not that they seemed to notice during their little bonding session.

“Get yourselves a drink, make yourselves comfortable, and that is about it. As soon as everyone arrives, we're going to eat.”

Following his mother to the kitchen, to find a home for the brownies, Hvitserk didn't take long to return. Emmer had been here enough to make herself at home, with or without Hvitserk by her side. The second he had disappeared, she'd headed straight for the living room, finding Gyda.

“Emmy!” Gyda approached with open arms. “It's been way too long.”

“Tell me about it.” Emmer hugged Gyda tightly. “You need to come visit, more.”

“I know, I've been so busy.” She rolled her eyes, “and then there is baby sitting Ivar. I swear to god, I am going to beat his ass some day.”

“He's been driving me nuts, too.” Emmer shrugged.

“He told me that you and Hvitty are back together? I am going to need all of those details, because I am all for this.” Gyda winked and smiled.

Biting her lip, Emmer glanced at her feet. “Uh, well as far as Ivar is concerned we are. Something about Hvits not wanting to go on some stupid date. Anyway, if Ivar asks, we're madly in love.”

“Got it.” Gyda laughed at the situation. Leave it to Hvitserk to come up with an elaborate lie and drag everybody around him into it. A gift he had inherited from Ragnar. “I won't say a thing.”

“He needs to get over himself and worry about his own life.” Emmer winced. “Sorry, I know he's your brother.”

“Details, look don't worry about it. As much as I love him, there are times when he is a pain in the ass.” Shrugging, Gyda dismissed the conversation about her baby brother. “So, what else has been going on?”

Escaping the kitchen, Hvitserk wandered through to the living room, the house had more rooms than two people ever needed. Whatever, his parents were happy – or some shit like that. Checking his phone, he paused and lifted his head in time to see his dad attempting to sneak out the side door and into the garage.

“Hey dad,” Hvitserk gave him a short nod.

“Hvitserk, I didn't know you'd arrived yet. Have you seen your mother?” Ragnar clasped his hand on Hvitserk's shoulder. Giving him a short bro type hug.

“Yep,” he nodded, shifting from one foot to the other. “So, what's new?”

“Same shit, you know how it goes.” Ragnar shrugged, stroking his neatly trimmed beard. “Ivar said that you and Emmy are back together.”

“Uh,” Hvitserk rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, she's here, you know. She was heading to find Gyda.”

“Good, good. I'm glad she's here. You know, I wasn't surprised you'd get back together. You need to hurry up and marry her already. Make an honest woman of her.” Smirking, Ragnar slapped Hvitserk on the shoulder. “At least one man in this family needs a stable woman.”

“It's not like that and I don't know that she'd be up for that. Anyway, where you off to?”

“On my way to pick up Ivar, apparently your brothers have better things to do than drive him around. Want to come?”

“Not particularly. But, don't let me keep you. Have fun.” Hvtserk waved as he walked away.

Leave it to his father to try and force his kids into something as big as marriage. Ironic, coming from Ragnar, seeing as his marriages had both fell apart. Aslaug refused to sign the papers, which was the only reason they were still legally together. Whatever, Hvitserk didn't want to try and figure that out right now.

He loved both of his parents, despite their downfalls.  

As suspected, Emmer and Gyda were cozy in the den. Curled up on either end of the plush sofa chattering away, while Sigurd sat in the corner playing with his old guitar. Seeing Hvitserk first, Sigurd acknowledged him brother with a slight head bob. Returning the nod, Hvitserk bee lined for the small bar in the corner.

Mixing a gin and tonic, a vodka and soda, and cracking two beer he handed Sigurd the gin first. Sauntering over to Emmer and Gyda he held out the  beer. “Ladies.” he  passed them over, before grabbing his drink.  

“Hey Hvits.” Emmer smiled moving to make room.

“Looked like you ladies could use a drink. Dad is on the way to get Ivar.”

“Thank you.” Emmer  kissed him on the cheek, she smiled sweetly. If Ivar thought they were together, she was going to sell it.

“What was that for?”

“For being you.” Emmer wrinkled her nose, leaning into his side. Hiding her face in the crook of his neck. God he smelled good. “Selling it for Ivar, whenever he arrives.” She whispered and giggled. Hvitserk nodded and licked his lips. “So,” she leaned back giving him another kiss, this time on the neck. “How does that sound?”

“Like you're about to get us into trouble,” Hvitserk took a drink and swallowed hard. “But I like it. I think it's doable.”

“Guys, can you two do this elsewhere? I don't need to see you sucking face.” Sigurd groaned.

“Fuck you,” Hvitserk flipped his brother off.

“Boys,” Emmer wagged her finger at them, in a mock sternness. “Don't make me separate you.”

“Sigurd, stop being such a pain in the ass.” Gyda stood, dropping herself onto the arm of the chair where Sigurd sat. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed his cheek hard. “One pain in the ass little brother is enough.”

“You need to stop treating me like I am five.” Sigurd groaned, laughing when she ruffled his thick red hair.

“And you need to mind your own business.” Hvitserk quipped, sticking out his tongue.

“You two are morons. But I love you both, anyway.” Gyda sighed, taking a drink of her beer. “Come on, Sig. She nudged her brother in the shoulder. “Let's go see what trouble we can get into, so these guys can suck face without making you vomit.”

Once they were alone the lovey dovey act would dissipate faster than Ivar in a genuinely good mood. Giving Hvitserk and Emmer a wink, Gyda guided Sigurd out of the room and around the corner.

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