─────•~❉~•─────
ARWEN'S EYES SNAPPED open at the sound of a creaking door, and unwelcome goosebumps shivered down her spine like a wildfire. Her fingers gripped tighter to the bedsheets, trying to see through the blackness of her room with wide, stretching eyes. What the fuck was that?
Immediately, her brain came up with images of terrifying monsters, spooky ghosts or any other sort of paranormal demonic creature that could be waiting for her right outside her bedroom door. Arwen's imagination had always gotten the best of her in these sorts of things, so she often scared herself shitless when it came to being in the dark.
Arwen dramatically rolled her eyes at her own childishness and sat up. It was still dark outside her bedroom window. The world outside was oddly quiet and the room was almost pitch-black if it weren't for the light that peaked from the crack in the slightly ajar door. Slightly creepy and... strange.
An unsettling feeling made Arwen bite her bottom lip. She never leaves her bedroom door open at night. Not even a little bit. She preferred sleeping in the pitch black (despite her childish fears), so why in the hell was her bedroom door open unless someone had come inside? The thought caused her heart to drop with deep dread.
Yeah, naur, I was not made for this horror movie shit. Arwen pulled the covers back in denial, wincing at the coldness that rushed across her body. Her mind screamed for her to go back into bed and huddle under the warm blankets, but something else made her walk over to her door and slowly pull it open.
The wonderling blinked, puzzled. What the fuck?
This wasn't Sheila's upstairs hallway. The walls that used to be painted white were now made of rich, carved wood with polished dark floorboards draped in dark red carpet. Dim, yet warm lights were turned on along the long hallway and Arwen could spot familiar renaissance-style paintings hung up here and there. It was when she saw those that she knew exactly where she was. Only one place around town was this gaudy and majestic. Arwen let out an uneasy groan.
Being in the Salvatore Boarding House again was a little nerve-wracking to say the least. Arwen had only been here a couple of times, and she still gets goosebumps and a fluttery feeling in her chest when inside. But why the hell was her room from Sheila's house in the Salvatore brothers' upstairs hallway? This was making no fucking sense.
Then again, she thought to herself. Nothing makes sense to me nowadays.
"Uh, guys?" Arwen called to no one in particular. Maybe either Damon or Stefan. She couldn't be sure which one would be around right now though. She didn't even know what the time was. "Anyone awake?"
Only silence answered. Welp, that's just great. Either they were asleep or just weren't home.
Involuntary shivers rushed through her body at the chilly air, which made Arwen outwardly cringe. Though she wondered, in the back of her mind, about her very strange bedroom situation, she couldn't help but lose track of that mystery as if it was like trying to catch fog with her bare hands. Instead, Arwen started to walk down the hallway and towards the stairs that led down into the parlour. Why? Who knows. At this point her legs were just taking her places, and she strangely just wasn't really processing anything very clearly at the moment.
Reaching the bottom of the steps, it had taken her to the parlour hallway that led to multiple rooms. The living area... the kitchen... study... it was very dark down here. Dimmer than the hallway upstairs but not pitch black like her room was. It made her even more nervous.
Sure, she slept in complete pitch-black, but walking around in it made her scary childhood memories echo like an ominous game of cat and mouse; like a monster would creep out of the shadows to give chase and nip at her heels.
Suddenly, the hairs at the back of Arwen's neck rose and there was a feeling like something had rushed past her from behind. A chilling breeze that tickled her spine and made even more goosebumps grow on the exposed skin of her collar bone and shoulders. Yeah, she was definitely beginning to feel like the mouse now.
Please, don't piss myself. Arwen closed her eyes tightly as she repeated those words to herself over and over. Please, don't piss myself. God, I know I have the weakest bladder ever, but please, don't piss myself!
Then, like it was the most normal thing in the world, the warm and firm feeling of large hands grabbing her hips bloomed through her satin pyjama shorts – and like something out of a Wattpad fantasy novel, all of Arwen's fears melted away and she opened her eyes again.
His hands are pale, she noticed, looking down at them, puzzled. And very warm. Like a toasty electric blanket... She missed her electric blanket back home.
"Hm," a low voice hummed purr-like in her ear, making her involuntarily quiver. "Hello, Arwy."
Arwen didn't say a word, but she knew exactly who it was. Though usually she'd jerk away in embarrassment and possibly even shout at any guy who'd touch her like this, she, strangely out of character, only leaned her head back to press the base of her skull against Damon's bare chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. That part of him was warm, too. Welcoming.
The vampire leaned down unexpectedly – though for some reason, for Arwen, this felt normal – and began to nip at the small, invisible hairs on the back of her neck. It tickled. The feeling of his hot breath meeting her skin almost made Arwen shiver in pleasure, and a strange, foreign feeling spread through body like an igniting flame.
Arwen bit the inside of her cheek, totally not to prevent any sounds or anything. The fuck is happening? WHAT IS GOING ON!?
Damon let out a low chuckle as he trailed his nose down to the nape of her neck. He wasn't fooled by her efforts to keep her composure. Though, very unlike the Damon she knew, he didn't comment on it at all.
"Whe..." Arwen swallowed, blinking rapidly for a second in the thick darkness of the hallway. "Where's Stefan?" The question was random, but she'd say anything right now to get a clear view on this really odd situation she was in.
It was like summoning something from the depths of the house. A beautiful creature emerged from the shadows. He came as quickly as the words that come from her mouth. Stefan made a classic vampire entrance, one minute he wasn't there, and the next, BAM! There he was, standing inches away from her, looking down into her eyes with that damned gentle smile of his.
Damon's grip on her waist tightened slightly at the new presence, but otherwise showed no indication on stopping the weird ass kitten-licking and nibbling he was doing to the back of Arwen's neck.
"I'm here," the younger of the brothers said, his voice quiet and reassuring. "Did I scare you?"
Arwen, despite feeling kind of foggy minded, grinned up at him. "Didn't scare me," she said, oddly confident. "You're fast, though."
Stefan looked a little ashamed, nonetheless. "It's a habit," he whispered. "Sorry." Then, he pushed his head further down and Arwen lifted hers like it was a natural reflex, relishing in the feeling of Stefan's cool lips pressing wetly against the base of her throat. His breath was also hot, twinning his older brother.
Speaking of the devil, Arwen felt Damon pressing his hips against her with a breathless sigh, like he was one-hundred percent content in this position. Arwen began to feel a little warm. Almost too warm. Were vampires supposed to have such body heat? Or was that just something she was imagining? It was all beginning to get too overwhelming. Shouldn't she be embarrassed? Usually, she'd be completely red-faced by now...
Stefan shuffled even closer, so that their chests were touching, and his right hand met carefully with the left-side of her face. Arwen closed her eyes as she felt him move his thumb along her cheekbone.
"Stefan," she exhaled blissfully and unexpectedly.
The completely bizarre, but also oddly familiar, friction between Damon and herself began to only go further as Stefan decided to match his brothers subtle yet meaningful movements from her front, trapping her into a Salvatore sandwich.
A sharp prickle pierced the curve of her shoulder, and pleasure exploded like fireworks through her. Blood rushed to her cheeks as it also hurried out of her body and into the culprits mouth. "Damon..."
Another sharp bolt of pleasure came just above her breast from Stefan's own fangs.
Then nothing.
─────•~❉~•─────
ARWEN SAT UP from her dream, gasping and panting. She put aside the bleariness of her vision in the change of light to comprehend what had just happened to her.
From her bed, Arwen looked at herself in the mirror to see herself covered in a thin layer of sweat, her greasy blonde hair a mop-like birds' nest on her head, and dark circles under her sticky eyes. She felt absolutely disgusting, and even embarrassed. It was evident by the bright red flush in her cheeks and the wideness of her round, steel-blue eyes that she, in fact, did dream that whole ordeal up.
Arwen groaned and held her face in her hands. I had a fucking wet dream. And I feel like shit.
Her bedroom was filled with morning light that streamed through the thin, white curtains of her window, and the sounds of birdsong filled the air. Nothing like the birdsong in Australia. Nothing like the eerie silence she had experienced in that incredibly lucid dream.
Arwen tore her gaze from the mirror and picked up her phone from the bedside table.
8.26AM.
She should have a shower before Sheila caught her in this state. Nothing would make Arwen's morning worse than being caught as a greasy monster by that witch. She'd never hear the end of that particular lecture.
Arwen moved out of the bed, phone in hand, and walked to the door to grab her towel, which hanged from a hook on the back. When she reached for the doorknob, she hesitated. That foggy feeling was sort of still there. What if she was still dreaming? Arwen bit the inside of her cheek. Surely, nah, right?
Thankfully, when she mustered up enough courage to open the door, she found only white, painted walls and grey, carpeted floors. Not a single renaissance painting or wooden skirtings in sight. Just... plain modern architecture.
So, why did a part of her feel so disappointed?
─────•~❉~•─────
"FUCKING HELL, THAT felt good."
Arwen closed her eyes in bliss, drying her tangled, wet hair with her pink fluffy towel. Having a shower was just what she needed. Waking up in that... state made her feel like she had just come out of a Macca's grease machine during a massive heatwave... okay, maybe not that literal, but the way she felt was still completely valid, right? Instead of smelling like sweat and shame, she refreshingly now smelt like her favourite fig-and-melon scented body wash.
Arwen stretched her arms with a yawn when she entered her bedroom (which was still in Sheila's hallway mind you), closing the door behind her with a quiet thud, and throwing her towel absentmindedly to the bedroom floor. For a moment she stared at it but then shrugged. I'll just pick it up later.
Arwen lazily moved to the dresser to grab her brush and cringed when she saw the tangled, clumped sight left behind among the bristles from the last time it was used. This seriously needed cleaning out.
"Ew..." she groaned, pulling out all the old, tangled strands and putting them in the bin that was next to her dresser. First that weird ass dream, and now this gross-induced morning. She was just glad no one was here to witness all this unsanitary carnage.
She grumbled incoherently to herself, opening her dresser to find some clothes for the day.
It had been passed the 24-hour mark since Arwen had seen anybody aside from Sheila and Bonnie. She had just cooped herself up in the house the past day-and-a-half, really wanting to avoid going out and risking coming across anyone that was at the dinner the other night. Especially Damon.
Yesterday, the old witch had kept her busy, and Arwen was sort of glad about it, too. She was not looking forward to just scrolling on her phone all day in a moping mess. So, while Sheila went grocery shopping and graded university papers, Arwen thoroughly scrubbed the bathroom and kitchen clean from any grime and icky stuff.
As she rinsed down the inside of the toilet bowl, Arwen couldn't help but wonder if vampires in this show could use the bathroom. Did they ever mention that in the show? The wonderling couldn't dwell on that thought for long since Sheila had come back in with the vacuum and told Arwen to do the bedrooms, upstairs hallway, and living area. Arwen didn't mind doing it (along with emptying the bins, washing the dishes, and wiping down all the hard surfaces) since she was earning herself a whole $20 note with every chore she did.
By the end of such a hard-working day, Arwen found herself exhausted on her bed holding $120. She felt like a little kid again. Made her sort of sad when she was reminded about her grandparents, though. Well, anyway... that was something Arwen didn't want to think about right now. Or ever, actually.
After getting dressed in a casual white singlet, simple black jeans and a plain dark-grey jacket, Arwen sauntered downstairs to grab something to eat. It was nearly 9.30AM. Late for school. Though, she couldn't care less. Arwen already wasn't looking forward to going to school again after the weekend. She wondered if she could skip just this once without Sheilla noticing, but the sight of the old woman waiting in the lounge room, watching the TV, brought all those hopes crashing down.
'I can confirm that a puma attacked a hunter and was subsequently killed. The hunter is in stable condition...' The TV droned on, and Sheila only shook her head in exasperation and turned the volume down a smidge. "A mountain lion. Right."
Arwen eyed her from the bottom of the stairs. "You don't think it was one?"
Sheila gave her a long look from her place on the couch. "Please. You know as well as I that this was no animal."
Suddenly, the thought of Damon came to mind, and faint memories of the show returned to her. From what Arwen could remember, these animal attacks were connected to him somehow. But she forgot the details. She was also pretty sure that the council were covering it all up, too – but that particular thing might be something else later on...
Arwen almost groaned in frustration. She has the timeline so mixed up. Sometimes, especially now, after she had been whirlpooled into the world of TVD, she wished she had paid actual attention to the show. Or maybe even watched it more than once to make sense of it. Why the hell she couldn't end up in Harry Potter or something she actually liked was beyond her. Arwen was just lucky she didn't end up in twilight, despite knowing a fuck ton about it. Nerdy behaviour right there, but at least the plot was easy to follow.
"Did you know the man who died?" Sheila asked then. "He was a teacher at your school."
"Was he?" Arwen asked, yawning and stretching. "I might know him. What's his name?"
"William Tanner. Apparently, he worked in the history and physical departments of education. They say he had quite the reputation among the students at Mystic High."
Tanner was dead? That was shocking. But the more she thought about it, the more she recalled how he was in the show for a bit but then just disappeared at some point. Faint memories of Damon killing him came flooding back. She was pretty sure either Matt Donavon or Tyler Fuckwood found the body, too.
Arwen can't say she will miss the guy, but fucking hell. Things were starting to get uncomfortably real in the show and it was only a matter of time before major stuff, like the Mikaelsons coming to town or Katherine wreaking havoc, to come along and fuck everyone in the ass, including Arwen's.
"Well," Arwen said, frowning. "He was my history teacher and Stefan's coach. That sucks... I hated the guy. He was an asshole, but he didn't deserve to die."
Sheila hummed in agreement. "Don't bother getting ready for school. The council has decided to allow a day of mourning for the students and staff. You and Bonnie will go back to school the day after the Founders Party."
"A what party?"
"Founders. It's held by the Lockwood family to display the heritage of the founders in Mystic Falls. It's held every year at the end of September," Sheila explained. "I won't be attending since I'll be busy with grading papers, but Bonnie says she will be going."
"I probably won't go either," Arwen said, moving slowly in the direction of the kitchen. "I'll just stay home and watch TV or something."
Sheila shrugged in a 'you do you' manner. It didn't matter to her what Arwen did as long as she practiced her magic or whatever when Sheila required her to, and went to school to keep her cover story, well... covered.
Arwen paused at the archway that led into the kitchen. "So, vampires," she sighed, moving back to their original subject of conversation. "Of course you'd know about them. Being a witch and all. It's stupid of me to forget."
"You had doubts?" Sheila had a small smile on her face.
Arwen shook her head. "No. It just was something that slipped my mind, actually. I forgot all the supernatural people knew each other."
Sheila switched off the TV and stood up from the couch, picking up an empty teacup from the coffee-table. With a sigh, she faced Arwen directly, her dark eyes now going from humoured to serious in an instant. "Now that the topic has been brought up again," she began, walking around the coffee-table and passed Arwen to head into the kitchen herself. "I also know about the Salvatore brothers and their affiliation with you as of late."
Arwen followed her. That was unexpected to hear but not very surprising. It's Sheila for fuck's sake. "How?"
Sheila placed her cup in the sink and turned on the tap – or well, faucet, in American dialect. "The spirits tell me a lot of things. Bonnie has also started to mention some visions now that her magic is manifesting." The tension was getting thicker. "She tells me they scare her, those brothers."
"Right," Arwen said, leaning against the kitchen island. "That's pretty much what vampires do, being from the horror genre. So, what about it?"
"I want you to be careful around those two, Arwen," Sheila warned, turning off the water and spinning around now to face her. "Stay away from them if you can. They're vampires and can only bring trouble. If they find out what you are, they'll do anything to keep you to themselves. Vampires are selfish, negligent creatures, and knowing you're another form of an extremely powerful witch is dangerous for you." Vampire racism. Nice. Though, Shiela did have a point, a big part of Arwen just didn't want to accept that about Stefan and Damon. They were the good guys in the show after all. Even if Damon was an annoying prick and Stefan was once an infamous serial killer.
Arwen shook her head. Images of what happened a couple of nights ago flashed through her mind. She was still wary of going near Damon, and she felt a little awkward around Stefan right now, despite what she told him in the car about having no issues at all. It a little bit of a lie, to be honest. The truth was she couldn't help but feel disconnected a little since their silly fight.
No, stop it, she was just being stupid and stubborn. Truth was, Arwen felt embarrassed by her own behaviour at the dinner with the way she refused help for her injury and the way she treated Elena, taking her frustrations and pain out on the girl because Arwen herself couldn't admit then that she was just being an idiot. Though Elena did act judgemental at times, she doesn't deserve being treated so rudely in her own house...
Arwen forced back a groan once again. She'll just push past the discomfort and pretend everything was normal. There was no way Arwen was ever gonna get away from these two vampires. They stuck like glue once you met them. But for Sheila's sake, at least, she'll agree.
"Fine," she replied, finally. "I'll keep that in mind."
Sheila's eyes narrowed. "I'm serious."
"I know!" The wonderling threw her hands in the air, becoming impatient. "I promise to keep my distance."
The witch pursed her lips and stared for a moment before turning back around to continue the dishes. Once the water was turned on again and the familiar loud clanking of cutlery was heard, Sheila spoke again. "There won't be any lessons on your magical potential today," she said distantly. "I will be working today at the university overtime. So I may not be home for dinner, either. Can I trust you to make dinner for yourself and Bonnie? God even knows that girl can't cook."
Arwen nodded. "Sure thing."
"Well, I'm off." Sheila grabbed her handbag from the bench and reached for her keys hanging on the hook on the wall. "I'll either see you late tonight or sometime tomorrow. Have a good day, Arwen. Don't burn the house down."
"You too," Arwen called as the witch walked out into the lounge room and out the front door.
Arwen stared down at the grainy pattern of the kitchen counter, her mind still lingering on what Sheila had said. To stay away from the Salvatore brothers. To keep her distance. It was next to impossible, that was for sure. This show practically revolved around them and so did her only friend and house mate, Bonnie. And the conclusion of that reality, for some reason, made Arwen more anxious.
She ran a hand through her still-damp blonde locks. "Fuck my life, man. I need a break." Not that she already had one for the past day-and-a-half.
Grabbing her phone from inside her pocket, she texted Bonnie to see where she was at. Hopefully the Grill or something. Arwen really needed to get out of the house, and she hoped Bonnie, her only current friend, might be available today.
─────•~❉~•─────
STEFAN WALKED DOWN the street across from the centre park of town. Lifting his hand to his chest, he curled his fingers into the brown leather of his jacket and eyed the grocery store across the intersection. It had been a long time since he'd gone grocery shopping. The only reason the fridge was minimally stocked was due to Zach, the only being in the Boarding House that actually needed food to survive, and it wasn't exactly an impressive haul either.
Sure, Stefan loved food. But if he wanted to entertain his tastebuds, he would have just gone out to get take away or go out to the Grill. Damon was the same, though Stefan was unsure if his brother even indulged in human food anymore considering how out of control he was these days.
Nonetheless, things were changing now, however, and Stefan was building a life for himself here in Mystic Falls (albeit Damon's irritating efforts to ruin that for him), and he was bound to have human company visit more often. Company like Arwen had given him the other day. He had promised her another movie night soon, so Stefan wanted to be better prepared for it this time.
He'll admit, texting her the first time and asking her to come over was an impulsive decision on his part. By the time she arrived he had realised he was no way near prepared. Damon was still home, he had barely any snacks to share, and Elena had randomly showed up out of the blue making things a little bit more tense in his pursuit of the doppelgänger.
Stefan couldn't stop the grin that fell on his lips when he thought of how hard Arwen had tried to hide the fact that she was alright eating ketchup with spring rolls and store-bought fries. He noted that ketchup is not her favourite– though it could have just been the food it went with in general. Nonetheless he was going to buy different sauces and a lot more snacks for her.
He attempted to move out of an elderly couple's way only to collide into someone. A small grunt of surprise escaped him. The person in question gasped in shock and took a step back. Stefan used his hands and grabbed their upper arms to steady them both. When he realised who it was he bumped into, he smiled brightly.
"I'm sorry..." Elena apologised, a single grocery bag in her hands. When she looked up, her dark eyes widened. "Stefan? What a surprise!" She gave him a wide, bright smile, showing off her perfect teeth.
"Hey," Stefan said, letting go of her arms and taking a step back himself to create a little more distance. Being pressed up against each other in a busy street wasn't very comfortable for either of them. "How are you, Elena?"
She nodded happily. "I'm doing great. Just done doing some shopping for dinner tonight." She looked him over curiously. "Are you also going to do some shopping? It's a shame, we just missed each other."
"Uh, yeah," Stefan replied, scratching the back of his neck. He briefly imagined running into her inside the store and making himself look like an idiot, as he would probably look at products as if they were alien technology. "Just doing some last-minute shopping for my Uncle Zach. Snacks and stuff. The pantry has been a bit empty lately."
Elena nodded in understanding, amused. "I can imagine. A house full of guys would not make the pantry last very long," she laughed.
Stefan would have laughed too if it wasn't for the fact Elena didn't know that he and Damon were vampires, and they didn't need food. But he had to pretend his family was completely normal, for Elena's sake. Lying about the shopping for Zach and Damon should be a breeze. He suddenly felt a little guilty for not thinking about inviting Elena to movie nights instead. Did Elena even like snacks and movies like Arwen did? He didn't even think about that... Then, he was reminded of how he was mainly shopping for his friend's tastes rather than doing groceries in general, and he could already imagine them both on the couch surrounded by all the snacks they'd share.
"Yeah," he spoke distantly, staring off into space. "Arwen does love food..."
Elena looked puzzled. "Arwen?"
He looked down at her, confused. "Pardon?"
"You said Arwen loves the food," Elena reminded him, looking crestfallen, and Stefan felt a pang of guilt drop in his stomach. "Does she really come over that often?" she asked, weakly.
Did he really say Arwen's name instead of Zach's? Stefan went quiet, unsure of how he could fix this mistake. Elena had become a little depressed at the knowledge it was Arwen on his mind just now, and that wasn't good. Stefan knew that while he was pursuing Elena, she had also lately been assuming that Arwen and Stefan might be forming some sort of romantic relationship, and it caused some tension at the dinner the other night. So, Stefan messing up here and unintentionally disregarding Elena's feelings wasn't helping him or his friend at all. Was Stefan so caught up in his thoughts of another movie night that he accidentally said 'Arwen' instead of 'Zach' or even 'Damon'? Idiot!
"Uh, yeah," Stefan said, trying to smooth things over as best as he can. "She's only been over once but I'm planning another movie night, so I was going to buy some popcorn and oven snacks, too, while I was here... I haven't asked her yet but..." he trailed off, not sure on what to say. He really had no excuse at all and was only digging himself a deeper hole.
Elena looked like she wanted to say something about it but seemed to have changed her mind and instead kept silent. This was getting awkward fast, and guilt gnawed at Stefan like a parasite. He liked Elena, he really did, but he also adored his friendship with Arwen; but it seemed to be causing some problems. Neither girl really liked the other and it was obvious. He was torn on what to do. He could back away from Arwen a little but the thought of doing that was almost painful to even think about. Before he officially moved to Mystic Falls, he didn't think he'd meet someone that he'd get so attached to so quickly. His original plan was only to get to know Elena, but then he saw Arwen for the first time in the school's front office and something inside him shifted. He had to know her.
Elena and Stefan continued standing there uncomfortably, the awkward tension becoming thicker as moments passed.
He shifted his feet a bit and checked his watch. "Well, I should go get this shopping done. I have some other errands I got to run today as well," he said, trying to not make this even more embarrassing than it already was. "It was good to run into you, Elena. I'll see you later?"
He began to walk away, but Elena grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. "Stefan, wait!"
Stefan stopped and turned back around to face her again. "Yeah?"
Random confidence glowed in Elena's dark eyes, and she smiled brightly up at him, effectively clearing some of the previous tension. "I was just wondering, before you go..." she began, still holding onto his jacket's sleeve. "How well do you pull off a suit?"
Stefan cocked his head to the side. A suit? "I can pull one off."
"How about tomorrow night?" Elena asked, looking a little nervous now, like the sudden burst of confidence she had was rapidly draining. "Will you... be my date to the Founder's Party?"
Stefan was surprised by the request. He didn't even know that the Founders Council still even held those celebrations every year. It was such an old tradition that he assumed they perhaps dropped it over the decades. He must have been wrong. "They still do that?" he asked her.
"Have you been before?" Elena's brow furrowed, as if she were trying to think back and recall if she had maybe seen him attend once, maybe years ago. Though, the last time he went to one was when he was human, and well before Elena had been born.
Stefan immediately shook his head. "No, the Salvatore's don't... get invited anymore," he lied. He wasn't sure if his family did or not, but as a Founding Family they probably still did as a courtesy. Zach wasn't one for formal stuff like that, so hopefully Stefan's lie was convincing.
It seemed to be a satisfactory answer because Elena smiled sheepishly, looking down at her feet. "Well, this year... there's this heritage project that meant a lot to my mom. She was really involved in the Founder's Council, and it was her favourite party. I know it sounds really boring, but... ugh, sorry, I'm rambling..." She then sighed, giving up her attempt with a deep frown. "...and you'd probably want to go with someone else anyway."
Stefan swallowed. Elena probably meant that he'd want to go with Arwen. Truthfully, he might've asked Arwen if he knew about the party beforehand, but he couldn't imagine her even wanting to attend such a formal event like that. He can't really picture her in a cocktail dress or holding a glass of expensive champagne. Besides, this was the perfect opportunity to fix his delicate situation with Elena and spend more time with her. The Founders Party was an ample opportunity to do it.
He smiled at her warmly. "I would be honoured to accompany you, Miss Gilbert."
Her eyes gleaming with triumph and her cheeks dusting pale pink, she teased him right back. "The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Salvatore."
Stefan wouldn't mind attending the party with Elena, it might even be fun. He got along so well with her, and he had come to Mystic Falls to get to know her more. Though, the lingering thoughts of Arwen in the back of his mind just wouldn't go away, and there was a growing ache in his chest as he escorted Elena to her car. It was just tearing into him, and the reason was completely unanswered.
─────•~❉~•─────
CAROLINE'S HOUSE WAS pretty much deserted when Damon arrived there early the next morning, and the soft light that came through the blonde's obnoxious pink curtains irritated him to no end as he tried to entertain himself with a twilight novel of all things. The second one... or maybe the third. Trust a girl like Caroline Forbes to have Twilight or nothing as a source of reading material, but it'd have to do. Other than sex, there wasn't anything to do at her house.
The girl in question, however, was not bothered by him touching her things. He had compelled her enough to make her not care as much as she would have. It just sucked that no matter how much he compelled into her, every time she opened her mouth she still sounded like chalk on a blackboard.
His morning only got worse when Caroline skipped out of her walk-in-closet in the gaudiest, frilled yellow dress Damon had ever seen and he held back a huge scowl. Though the way she planned events and parties were impeccable, her taste in fashion was downright hideous and most of the dresses in her closet should be burned. She planned to wear that to the Founders Party? He just couldn't help himself when she turned to him for his opinion, expectantly.
"Not that one." He kept his eyes trained onto the book in his hands, not wanting to stare himself sick at the intense colour. "Jaundice. Go for the blue I saw the other day."
Caroline, no surprise, complained. "I don't like the blue!"
"Well, I do." Damon held back a bout of frustration this time, and instead flipped a page angrily in a ways to vent it out, bending the page a little. Caroline simply pouted at him like a child, and then turned her back to him so that she could unclip her dress in the mirror.
"You're not even going to the Founders Party with me, anyway, so why does it matter what I wear?" she asked, letting the material pool around her feet, leaving her in her underwear.
"It does," he replied, tautly, feeling cruel. "I don't want to get a headache seeing that dress on the dancefloor. In fact, I'm saving everyone attending from that thing. I went through a lot of trouble making sure this party wasn't cancelled, and I'll be damned if it is because every attendee got a migraine from seeing something a clown likely once wore."
Caroline spun around to face him with an offended sneer. "You're a dick, you know that? That dress cost me a lot of money. Half of my last Summer break is dedicated to that thing."
Damon shrugged, not really caring, and turned to face her, his bored gaze meeting hers. "Put on the blue dress," he told her, his compulsion reaching out and weaving around her simple mind easily. She blinked only once and then retreated into the closet to change without another word.
A minute later, Caroline saunters out again in a completely new dress, much easier on the eyes than the other she tried on. Damon would have to remind himself to compel Caroline to burn most of the dresses in her closet later, expensive or not.
"Much better," he told her, honestly.
She shook her head, staring at him with an odd look. "Who are you going with, anyway?" she asked, crossing her arms again. "How did you even get an invitation?"
"The Salvatore's, as a Founding Family, are invited. I just took Zach's." Damon didn't care to hide his secrets from Caroline. She'd be dead soon, anyway, once he made full use of her, and it wasn't like she could tell anyone anything since his compulsion kept her lips sealed. Some might say a quiet Caroline was a nice change. "He's not going to use it, so I might as well," he replied, barely reading the lines on the pages of Twilight's Eclipse. "And I have a date in mind, I just haven't asked yet."
Caroline looked surprised. "Who?"
He glared daggers into her, making the blonde flinch. "Stop asking questions," he snapped. "You're so irritating, I feel like my brain is rotting."
She huffed and crossed her arms before turning back to admire her new outfit in the mirror. Secretly, Damon was glad she didn't press on about it. He really wasn't in the mood to talk about his chosen date to the Founder's party and he really didn't want to try and explain that to Caroline of all people. Especially when he wasn't even sure why he decided to go and ask this person himself.
Damon cringed down at the pages in his hands. "What's so special about this Bella girl? Edward's so whipped." It was honestly disgusting. Stephenie Meyer didn't get anything about vampire's right, and most of the character's in the book were such starchy let-downs.
From the mirror, Caroline let out an annoyed grunt. "You gotta read the first book first, it won't make sense if you don't." She would have had a point if Twilight was even relevant to him.
Damon sighed, lowering the book slightly to stare at the white ceiling of her bedroom. "I miss Anne Rice," he moaned, pathetically. "She was so on it."
Caroline turned to face him. "How come you don't sparkle like they do in the books?"
"Because I live in the real world where vampires burn in the sun," he explained to her like she was a child. Honestly, it was such a dumb question even for Caroline. Twilight was the least reliable source for information on vampires. Though, then again, he wasn't surprised that she of all people, asked it. Frustration was slowly building up the more she spoke, and Damon was sure he was going to snap her neck right then and there if this conversation continued. Caroline was incredibly annoying and sickeningly naïve. Unfortunately, it made his plans to acquire the moonstone so much easier.
"Yeah, but you go in the sun," she pointed out, admiring herself in the mirror once again as she spoke. "How is that possible if you supposedly burn?"
"I have a ring." He lifted his left hand to show her through the mirror's reflection. "It protects me. Long story." He couldn't be bothered explaining. He didn't need to.
Caroline eyed her back in the mirror with a frown, using one hand to reach back to trace the healing bitemark on her shoulder blade. "Will these bites turn me into a vampire?" she asked, nervously. Damon wondered if the thought of becoming a vampire frightened her. It probably did, and that alone brought him a sick, satisfying feeling that slightly quenched his growing temper.
Damon threw the book down on the bed. "It's more complicated than that. You have to drink my blood, then die, and then feed on human blood. It's a whole ordeal." He waved his hand about carelessly and gestured to the discarded material next to him. "This book has it all wrong."
Caroline snatched the book from the bed and wrinkled her nose down at him. "Don't read it then," she snapped, growing irritated. "Go do whatever it is you do out there and leave me alone. You're literally here for no reason other than to mock and judge my tastes," she then added, turning away from him to place the book back on her shelf. "Asshole."
Damon couldn't deny that she was right. He wasn't here for any particular reason, but for his own selfish needs really. Stefan was who knows where, Zach was drowning in alcohol again back at the house, which was just depressing, and Arwen? She hadn't left that witch's house since the last time he saw her at the dinner. He ignored that bitter reminder, and suggestively raised his eyebrows at Caroline.
"What if I'm here for something else?" He sat up on the bed, leaning forward slightly.
She shook her head, not interested. "Sorry, but I have to go meet with Bonnie and Arwen at the Grill in, like, twenty minutes."
Damon perked up, suddenly interested. "Arwen's going to be there?"
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. "Why?"
He grinned, sending her a cold look. "Nothing better to do." This was perfect timing. Seems like coming all the way to Caroline's was worth something after all.
Caroline just stared at him incredulously for a moment, then threw her hands up in the air and stormed back in the closet to change. "Fine. Ask her of all people to be your date. Honestly..."
Irritation pricked at him again, and his icy-blue eyes narrowed. He wasn't exactly sure what Arwen and Caroline had against each other. In fact, that Australian girl had been butting heads with both her and Elena at the dinner. At first, Damon thought it was some petty jealousy issue, and that he was right about how Arwen was clearly attracted to both him and Stefan, but he quickly came to realise the real reasons for Arwen's frustrations that night. She was in pain. And she was too goddamn stubborn about it to ask for help, so she took it out on the girls.
A behavioural trait they bitterly had in common.
Damon growled at the intrusive conclusion, and he got up from the bed, fixing his clothes. He still wasn't sure why he had taken matters into his own hands, when Stefan was too weak to, and forced Arwen to drink his blood. All he knew was that he was angry. Enraged, even, that someone had laid their hands on her. All he could think about was finding out who did it and ripping their throat out.
This damned obsession with this girl poked and prodded at him like a hot poker, and it never went away! He couldn't even enjoy sex without picturing her under him instead of some other random girl he seduced into his bed. It was making him go crazy. Then he had a stupid idea to ask her to the Founder's party even though Caroline would be a much easier date, especially now that he knows Arwen can't be compelled, probably having stashed vervain somewhere on her body...
The image of her slender, pale waist and curved hips after the skin had healed from taking his blood echoed in his mind, and remembering the way she felt against the wall had Damon letting out a growl of frustration. He tugged at his hair roughly.
Without waiting for Caroline, he stormed out of the bedroom to be on his way to the Grill. He didn't care if Caroline took hours or a whole decade to get ready, he didn't want to wait, and he certainly didn't need her for what he wanted to do next.
─────•~❉~•─────
FOR THE FIRST part of the mornings in this world, things went pretty normally. Arwen would get up, speak with Sheila before the woman went to the university, and, on occasion, Arwen would get out of the house on the weekend. Like today, for example. Bonnie had answered her texts and agreed to meet her at the Grill since she was meeting with Caroline anyway. Great. Not amazing. But just great.
If it wasn't obvious, Arwen was being very sarcastic. She and Caroline definitely hadn't gotten off on the right foot the first and, once hopefully, the last time they spoke. The blonde had exposed her obvious, silly crush on Stefan and embarrassed both her and Elena at the same time. A great way to proceed the night after the fight Jeremy and Tyler had, that had gotten Arwen hurt. And with the whole forceful blood feeding incident with Damon in Elena's kitchen? Arwen was hoping to not see anyone from the show (other than Sheila and Bonnie of course) until at least school started again. Which would have been today, but it didn't count now since it was cancelled. Then again, what did Arwen expect? She was bound to bump into somebody at the Grill, and she couldn't hide forever.
Arwen entered the Grill and found Bonnie quickly in the crowd, seated at a table waiting for her. She was alone and Caroline didn't seem to be here yet, which was a relief. Arwen had walked a solid twenty minutes on a sunny day. It wasn't hot exactly, but she would have rather had earphones in or something. She'd have to buy headphones at some point...
Sitting down on the chair across from Bonnie, she greeted her friend. "Hey," Arwen spoke first. "How've you been?"
"We saw each other only a day ago," Bonnie replied, holding back a laugh. "But I've been great. Dad's house is pretty boring but at least I'm here now."
Arwen nodded. She learned that Bonnie spent every weekend sleeping at her dad's house while on the weekdays she spent with Sheila. It was like co-parenting but with her grandmother, and the reason was because her dad was always away for his career. Arwen wasn't sure exactly it was Bonnie's dad did, but it made him travel a lot. Her mum, however, apparently she left when Bonnie was little and never came back. It really hit Arwen right at home there, she could've laughed – but that would have been a fucked thing to do after Bonnie had told her that story.
After a few minutes of catching up, Bonnie excused herself to go to the bathroom and Arwen decided it was a good time to get up and go to the bar to order some lunch. She was hungry and was desperately craving some loaded fries.
So, while she was too busy wondering if this place had any jalapenos to add on top of that, she didn't even notice the familiar darkly dressed vampire come over to sit on a stool beside her.
It was when he spoke that goosebumps rose along the back of her neck. "Arwy, aren't you a little too young to be ordering here at the bar?"
"Damon?" Arwen spun her head around to stare at him, her cheeks flaring at the sight of his rugged hair and sultry smirk. "What are you doing here?"
"It's the Grill. Its bar sells bourbon. Why wouldn't I be here?" He smirked at her, and Arwen was surprised at how pleased he seemed to see her. Everything about him seemed to light up at her presence, and she could tell by the way his blue eyes sparkled with that mischievous look. He was up to something, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it.
Arwen bit the inside of her cheek and turned her head again to avoid his face. "I'm not here to drink, I'm here to eat," she muttered. "And meet with friends."
Memories of him pressing her against the wall and forcing his blood down her throat flashed in her mind and she almost involuntarily shivered. It was such a strange and... scary experience. Especially when her injuries and all of her blemishes healed. Damon, of all people, was the person she had hoped to avoid the most. Just her fucking luck to run into him at the Grill today.
Damon cocked a brow knowingly. "Wasn't aware Caroline was considered your friend."
The wonderling winced. "She's not."
That's when the server came over and, thankfully, it wasn't the same guy who flirted with her the last time. She quickly gave him her order and paid him there and then. Arwen didn't understand the point of paying afterward. It rarely happened in Australia, and she'd never had the opportunity to do it. The worker seemed thankful anyway to be paid upfront, and once he scuttered off to give the cooks her order, Damon turned to her again before she could go to return to her table. "Actually, I was hoping to speak with you."
Arwen couldn't keep her eyebrows from furrowing, and she stared at him with an odd expression. When he seemed to understand her confusion, Damon stood up from his seat and faced her fully. Arwen felt her face grow hot and she swallowed at how close he had gotten. She had forgotten how much taller he was than her, and she had to tilt her head up to meet his alluring ice-blue eyes.
Cautiously, Arwen also stepped back to have some space. "What do you want then?" she demanded, though quite nervously. "If you think what happened the other night was some sort of transaction deal, then you have it all wrong. You forced that on me, remember?"
Damon rolled his eyes. "Please, I know that," he said, tilting his head to the side slightly. "I was just wondering if you would go with me to the Heritage Ball tomorrow?"
Arwen stood there, her jaw slacked in shock, and silence filled the space between them. He only waited patiently for her answer, digging his hands into his leather jacket's pockets as he continued to stare down at her with a sudden intensity. Realising that this was beginning to get awkward the longer she stared, slack-jawed like an idiot, she quickly closed her mouth and stammered over her next words, trying to find the right response to whatever the fuck he just asked of her.
"Y-you want to go to that fancy pants party that the Fuckwoo- uh, the Lockwood's are throwing? With me?" She almost laughed at the idea. "You're joking right? Do you see what I wear on a daily basis or are you just blind? I don't do those kind of parties, or any parties, actually. I hate stuff like that."
"Why not?"
"They're either too loud and obnoxious or too boring and full of cheap snobs," Arwen explained, shaking her head. "So, no. I'm not going with you. Sorry not sorry, I would probably fall asleep on the dancefloor or something. The only reason I'd go is if they had a good grazing table, and something tells me that the Lockwood's would only serve tasteless salad and fucking poisoned cookies."
As she rambled on, Damon leaned down a little to meet her eyes. At first Arwen thought he was going to attempt to compel her again, but nothing in his eyes changed, and he just pursed his lips at her in a sulking manner. "But Arwy," he whined, like a child. "I don't want to go without you."
"Then don't go at all," she snapped, crossing her arms and glaring at him, growing more annoyed. "I don't care."
He frowned, his own eyes narrowing as he straightened. "You owe me."
Is this bitch for real?
"I told you that it wasn't a transaction!" She waved her hands about. "Not a consensual one, either."
"You're making me sound like some sort of prostitute."
Her eye twitched. "With how many fucking notches you probably have on that belt, you might be!"
Damon held the bridge of his nose with his fingers, holding back a sigh. "Just go with me, will you? If not as friends, then because if you do this then you won't owe me for giving you my blood. Vampire blood is sacred, you know?" he pointed out, like it was a valid reason to go with him to that stupid ball.
Arwen wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Do I look like I give a shit if vampire blood is sacred or not? Either way it tastes like shit."
His eyes darkened considerably, and Arwen took another cautious step back when she saw that he was flexing his hands in his pockets, like he was holding back the urge to grab her by the neck and throw her about the bar. Okay, so maybe she took it a bit too far with the blood thing.
"You'll go with me whether you like it or not," Damon growled, his voice low and threatening. "I don't give a fuck what you say. You owe me, Arwen."
Arwen glared at him; feelings of fear pushed aside for her own stubborn pride. "And if I don't go at all?" She challenged him.
He cruelly smiled at her, his perfect, white teeth flashing in the Grill's dim light. "Then I might visit your lovely witch friend in the bathroom and introduce her to the true reality of vampires."
A pang of dread filled Arwen's chest when she realised she really didn't have a choice when it came to what Damon wanted. At this point of time, he was way too unstable to control himself, and she had no doubts that he'd do anything, even hurting her friends, to achieve whatever it was he desired. The thought of Bonnie getting hurt because of Arwen was a little too unsettling for her tastes.
"Why can't you ask Caroline to go with you? Trouble in paradise?" Arwen decided to try one more time to save herself while at the same time as poking the bear, maybe then he'd change his mind when he realised how insufferable Arwen was. But he seemed to be unaffected, and just grinned. She should've known he didn't give a flying fuck about Caroline, or Arwen's attitude for that matter. He seemed to like it, actually.
"Are you jealous?" He purred out the question curiously.
Arwen scowled, leaning away from him. "In your dreams, creep."
He stood up straighter and shrugged, his eyes moving about the room. "She's going with a guy from the high school. She mentioned that her mother wouldn't be happy with her going with a guy my age, and as a vampire I don't need a member of the Council on my tail," he explained, looking entirely uninterested. "So, I decided to ask you."
"More like demand me," Arwen muttered under her breath, but Damon's smirk growing wider was an indication that he had heard her. "Fine, I'll go with you. But you're buying the goddamn dress and it better be appropriate or I'm just going in casual wear."
Damon seemed pleased, his eyes brightening as he held a hand up to his chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die, Arwen." She wasn't sure if she liked that...
The server returned then with Arwen's order, and she almost drooled at the sight of the melted, golden cheese oozing all over the seasoned chips, decorated with scattered pieces of bacon and jalapenos. It would have been the perfect lunch without the dickhead beside her and the heavy threats he was giving her at the moment. She couldn't believe she was going to this shitty party after all. Arwen prayed she didn't die of boredom or suspicious vampire activity tomorrow.
Grabbing her dish, she moved to walk back to the table she and Bonnie shared, only for Damon to reach out suddenly and grab her wrist.
Arwen whipped her head around to face him again. "What?" She spat, impatiently. She really wanted to get away from this massive douche and eat her lunch which was only getting colder the more she wasted time here.
Damon was unaffected by the harshness in her tone, his eyes trained to her covered stomach with furrowed eyebrows. His entire demeanour seemed to take a completely different turn compared to the cocky and threatening man he was before, and it gave Arwen some serious whiplash.
"How's your stomach?" he asked, his voice unexpectedly soft and unsure. "Does it still hurt?"
Arwen blinked at him, completely puzzled. Did he have some sort of erratic bipolar disorder or something? It would explain a lot. Even so, Arwen couldn't help the butterflies that wildly fluttered about in her chest when he reached forward, and she felt his thumb and index finger graze the front of her hip.
Arwen bit the inside of her cheek and nudged his hand away, avoiding his face again. "It's fine and I feel normal. Just don't lift my jumper again, or I swear you'll regret it."
Amused at her meagre threat, Damon's eyes found hers again. "You make me sound like some sort of pervert, Arwen," he whispered, using her full name this time, and a blush lurked back onto her cheeks. Her spare hand clenched into a fist at her side, itching to just smack that stupid mischievous smile off that rat-ass (actually handsome) face!
"Because you are!" She retorted, a little too loudly since some nearby patrons looked their way, and before Damon could say anything else, Arwen scurried away back to the table where Bonnie and Caroline were waiting, secretly glad she got the last word in. Bonnie greeted her when she returned, and Caroline barely spared her a glance. Arwen just imagined a ring of middle fingers circling around Damon and Caroline's heads as she finally got to eat her loaded fries.
Both of the girls were already chatting away about something, but the wonderling couldn't get into the conversation since she could practically feel the hot stare she was getting from Damon back at the bar, burning into the back of her head like an iron brand.
Tomorrow was going to probably be the shittiest night of her life, and Arwen guessed that probably nothing was going to prepare her for it at all.
─────•~❉~•─────
AFTER ARWEN AND Bonnie had gotten home back at Sheila's house around midday, there was nothing for the wonderling to do other than read until late afternoon. She didn't even bother to mention to Bonnie about her blackmail date situation with Damon, Arwen didn't want to even think about it. And after cooking some ham-and-cheese toasties for their dinner, Arwen just brushed her teeth and threw her miserable self into bed until she awoke the next morning.
Of course, she was tired enough to go on longer, but the sound of the front door downstairs opening and closing loudly had her slowly get back on her feet and wandering out into the hallway and dragged herself down the steps.
"Morning," Bonnie greeted from near the front door with an averagely sized package in her hands. It was a white box wrapped in a lovely red ribbon, and attached to the curled bow in the centre, rested a small tag. Arwen blinked at the ornate package, wondering what it was inside and who sent it.
But then Bonnie handed it to her with a knowing smile. Arwen grabbed it from her hands. "Its for you. It doesn't say who it's from, but something tells me you know," Bonnie said, smiling, and then retreated into the kitchen to make them some toast.
Arwen sat on the couch and for a moment she hesitated. She had a feeling she knew what this was now, and who it was from, and she hoped to whatever fucking god that was out there that he had not sent her some skimpy cocktail dress or prank her by sending cringeworthy level of lingerie. But when she finally mustered up the courage to lift the blank, white lid of the box, her eyes widened in awe.
At first, Arwen only saw the colour. It was deep crimson, striking against her pale complexion, and made of velvet, which was so soft under her hands when she lifted it by the shoulders to get a better view, and Arwen almost gasped at how pretty it was. The sleeves on it hung low off the shoulder in a bow-like sequence which actually was pretty cool, adding in a touch of femininity Arwen never wore. Importantly, the dress also featured a long skirt, and honestly, Arwen felt like if anyone wore this they'd feel like a glamorous star on the red carpet. It was almost too much. It was elegant and very sophisticated, something Arwen never imagined wearing in her life. It was perfect for the Founders Party, for sure, but she was nervous to even go dressed in such a thing.
Bonnie walked back in the room then and gasped at the dress in Arwen's hands, looking amazed. "Oh, my God," she exclaimed, growing excited as she practically raced over to see it. "I knew it! I knew you were going to the Founders Party. The moment I saw that box out front with your name on it, I called it was a dress. You have a date!" She then blinked in sudden shock. "You have a date?!"
"Uh, yeah," Arwen mumbled, still staring at the dress. "I guess I do."
"Not even I have a date!" Bonnie gaped at her. "How...?"
Arwen rolled her eyes. "Don't ask me." She really didn't want to attempt to explain how she was actually being blackmailed into this. You're welcome Bonnie, for keeping you safe.
"It's way better than mine," Bonnie said, playfully sulking as she played with the tag, her finger tracing along the empty space where the initials of who the gift was from would go. "I wonder who got this for you?"
Arwen swallowed thickly. "Yeah, I wonder..."
Bonnie frowned. "You're really not going to tell me?"
To be honest, Arwen wasn't really sure she wanted Bonnie to know she was going with Damon. As far as anyone was concerned, he was bad news, and he was also technically Caroline's boyfriend. Arwen was confident that Bonnie wouldn't appreciate one of her best friends boyfriends going to this party with her housemate, even if Arwen had no choice in the matter. That screamed betrayal. So she'd keep it on the downlow until later tonight when she couldn't hide who her date was anymore.
Arwen couldn't do anything but shrug in reply.
Bonnie took the dress from her hands eagerly. "I'll iron it so that it's ready for tonight and then hang it up in the laundry room next to mine. I guess I'll see who your date is later tonight." Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked off into the direction of the laundry room through the kitchen.
Arwen stood there for a while. She wasn't entirely certain what to do now. She couldn't dump the dress back outside out of spite of Damon now that Bonnie had gotten her hands on it (not that she'd want to leave a dress like that exposed outside anyway), and there was no way Arwen was going out again and risking accidentally bumping into him. She'd rather not see him until she absolutely had to for the ball tonight. Fucking vampires. They seriously stressed her out.
Instead of just waiting around and doing absolutely nothing, Arwen climbed back up the stairs and went back into her bedroom, all the while muttering on how she wished she could commit some heinous felonies on Damon throughout the duration of the party.
Arwen hadn't been laying on her bed for ten minutes when her phone buzzed, letting her know she had gotten a notification. She stared at the device, which rested on the bedside table, for a moment, before picking it up and unlocking it.
The phone read: 'YOU HAVE RECEIVED A MESSAGE FROM UNKNOWN NUMBER'.
Who the fuck was this? Arwen frowned and then swiped absentmindedly to see the rest of the message through the app. It was when she read it, her heart sunk in realisation.
Unknown Number – 9.54am
'Did you like your present?'
Motherfucker!
Arwen wasn't stupid. She knew exactly who this was. How he had found a way to contact her, she could think of several people. More innocent losers Damon must have blackmailed and threatened just to get her number. No one was safe from Damon's intrusion in this fucking town. No privacy. None.
Irritated, she rushed to typed back a reply.
Arwen – 9.55am
'Damon, how in the fuck knuckles did you get my number?'
It didn't take long for him to see the message and write a reply.
Damon – 9.55am
'That's for me to know, and for you to dot, dot, dot.'
Arwen – 9.55am
'Clever. How long have you been wanting to say that line?'
Damon – 9.56am
'You know I put in effort for you, Arwy. But you didn't answer my question. Do you like your present?'
Arwen's first impulse would have been to quickly type back with an insult about how the dress was too gaudy or the fabric was too itchy – something demeaning that probably wouldn't have been true. But honestly, the dress was perfect, and even if it was Damon she was talking to, Arwen couldn't bring herself to insult his gift. She was grateful. Even if she was the one who demanded that he get her the gown for the dumb party.
She sighed in defeat.
Arwen – 9.58am
'It's very pretty. I've never owned something like it before. Thank you.'
Arwen bit the inside of her cheek when she pressed the send button.
Her heart took a leap when the phone showed that Damon was typing back. When his message sent through, her eyes skimmed over the words with wild abandon.
Damon – 9.58am
'I'm glad. So, tell me. How is life treating you today?'
Arwen rolled her eyes. Honestly, this guy... he knew exactly how to get under people's skin and just press on the wound.
Arwen – 9.58am
'Like I ran over its dog.'
Damon – 9.59am
'Aw, surely I'm not the worst date you could be taking to the Founder's Ball? Admit it, you're super happy I even asked.'
Arwen – 9.59am
'🤢🤮💀'
Damon – 10.00am
'Classy, Arwen.'
Arwen couldn't help the twitching of her lips at his blunt reply. Before she could type back another sarcastic retort of her own, Damon had already sent another message.
Damon – 10.00am
'I'll pick you up tonight at 6. Hope that's fine with you?'
She knew that even if he was asking, Damon did not give a rat's hairy asshole what she was okay with.
Arwen – 10.01am
'Yeah, whatever, loser. See you later.'
Arwen then shut off her phone and put it back on the dresser. She purposely ignored the next few buzzing notifications of Damon no doubt sending her more messages, and just stared at the blank, white ceiling of her room.
Her mind wandered fairly quickly to the events of tonight. Though, Arwen couldn't remember much, especially in the beginning of the show, she knew some things about the Founder's Party. One of them being that Damon wasn't there just 'because'. He wanted to gain something out of it. Arwen knew it was something to do with Katherine. It's all he cared about at the moment from what she could recall.
Closing her eyes, Arwen thought deep and hard about the scenes from the party. It was a fancy occasion, of course, hence the dress Damon had gotten her, so it wasn't some sort of BBQ or flimsy picnic. Arwen could recount a lot of people attending, probably most of the rich part of town's society, but as far as remembering everything else, that was about it.
For a moment, Arwen wondered what to expect from being Damon's date to the Founder's Party. What reaction would they both get when they waltz their way through the crowd, with Arwen avoiding the familiar faces of those who'd be appalled by her "choice" of date, or some, rather, Damon's choice. Arwen could already imagine Damon pouring himself a blood on the rocks, sitting at a fancy table outside, and then asking other guests. 'So who's going to be my next murder victim?'
The idea had Arwen chuckling. She opened her eyes again to stare at the ceiling once more. She was still in her pyjama's, but the wonderling couldn't be assed to get up to get changed for the day. The thought of her sleepwear didn't linger for long though when her thoughts trailed back to the Founder's Party...
Biting the inside of her cheek, Arwen tried to not imagine Damon in a suit. Or even Stefan, who she knew was going to attend as well. Probably with Elena.
A blush crept onto her face at the thought of the two brothers all dressed up. For some reason, Arwen was extremely drawn to them both. She had never experienced such thoughts about people she knew personally. Maybe it was because the brothers were tall? Or well... big in stature? She supposed most vampires would be tall or athletic, or both, but the Salvatore's take it a little further. Still, she wasn't positive if it was their looks that were the centre of what drew her to them.
Damon was... not exactly charming, not to her anyway, but he was magnetic. Stefan was charming, definitely, but he wasn't alluring like his older brother. Complete opposites, yet, so much alike. Still, Arwen had a crush on them both. She thought of the way Damon's lips would curve into a sultry smile when he teased her. She thought about how the corners of Stefan's eyes would split into a web of crinkles when he laughed.
Arwen buried her warm face in her hands and let out a frustrated groan.
She wasn't in love with them. No way. The brother's weren't technically even real until she somehow got stuck in their world. It was a simple crush on two beloved fictional characters in the TVD fandom. It wouldn't last forever. It never did. Like characters before them from other productions, the crushes will eventually fade, and she'd move on. Besides, it wasn't even Arwen's place to make any moves. This wasn't her world. It wasn't her home. They weren't hers.
Arwen rolled over onto her side and tightly closed her eyes to force herself to sleep again, clutching the hem of her pyjama shorts tightly.
And they never will be...
─────•~❉~•─────
(11522 words)
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
'Sorry for such a long wait, it just took some time writing this chapter because of its length, and I'll admit, how boring it kind of is. I promise it gets more entertaining in later chapters!
But hey, we got some important Damon content in, and we finally got our first Stefan POV! I tried to capture his character, and I always imagined him to get excited over the little things, so I added that small detail in there. But honestly, I feel like I am definitely growing accustomed to both the brother's personalities a lot. Sorry for the no Stefan/Arwen interaction in this chapter, but they'll see each other in the next one, I promise!
Anyway, thanks so much guys for reading this one. It was hard to get out. I was going to write at least 2000 more words but then it'd be around the same length as the last chapter and it's such a pain to read so much at once, so I decided to save the rest for the next one. Thanks so much for reading, I'll publish the next chapter soon!'
- DUCKY