#‘she stood by as her little sister hunted to provide for them!’ and what did elain do. huh. and yet…

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

I Gave You My Heart

14/12: Hand Holding & Dry Humping - Billy Washington Word Count: 2.1k~ | Warnings: grinding, p in v sex, horniness as a result of drinking alcohol

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

Christmas was always a difficult time of year for Billy.

To most, it was a happy, cheerful time, when families would gather, stuff themselves with as much meat as they could manage, drink as much wine as they wanted without stumbling into the garden shed (as his dad did the year before, to which his mum still hasn’t let him forget) and pass out on the sofa before the King’s speech could even come on tele.

To Billy, as with most years he gathered at his parent’s house, it was just another opportunity for his parents, sister and extended family to badger him with the usual abundance of questions.

How’s the job hunt going? Not well? Aw, well there’ll be something out there for you. Just have to keep at it.

No girlfriend yet?

You’re still looking for a job?

Lana not here yet? She’s doing well isn’t she?

He felt that if he had to go through yet another year of it, he’d go ballistic.

Aunties. Uncles. Cousins. He hugged them all on arrival, but felt very little.

But this year was different.

There was an element of protection she provided. A buffer, so to speak. And Billy being Billy, didn’t want to lean on her for that buffer, but was relieved all the same when she didn’t mind.

How did she do it?

How did she smile through it? Remain polite, despite the fact that it was socially sapping and emotionally draining to be around this many new people at once, all bombarding her with questions.

She was the shiny new item to a mischief of magpies, and all his aunties were babbling like turkeys at her, taking all the attention away from him. To his relief.

He watched her with a warmth to his face, a can of cheap beer in one hand, leaning against the radiator in the hallway to warm his backside.

She entertained them with brief, vague answers, but still somehow managed to keep that smile to her face he loved so much. Perhaps he was just wavy from the alcohol, he couldn’t tell. But he did realise he was flushing with embarrassment when her eyes clapped on him from across the room, and he realised he’d been caught staring.

His heart rate skyrocketed as she excused herself and crossed the room like she was floating, the Christmas cracker tissue paper crown was still somehow perched on the top of her head, whether she realised it or not.

“What you doing here by yourself, Wash?” she smiled.

He’d almost forgotten to move his lips to reply, his face was so hot.

“Making use of the central heating to warm your arse?” she prodded with a cheeky smile, turning to stand beside him, pressing her own back to the radiator and sighing as the warmth spread through her body from the middle outwards.

“Have my aunties bored you to death?” he asked, smirking beneath the rim of his can as he sipped.

She laughed through her nose, “That obvious?” she smiles, “Nah, it’s alright. Much better company than my house on Christmas Day, anyway. At this point, my dad’d be a snoring mess on the sofa and mum’d be fretting about Boxing Day lunch”.

In his alcohol-addled state, the raising of Billy’s eyebrows was a bit unmatched, alongside the lazy smile on his face, “I can picture that”.

She raised her own eyebrow at the way he seemed to subtly sway, despite being stood.

“What number’s this?” she asked with a knowing smirk.

And she watched with amusement as the cogs inside Billy’s head visibly turned, trying to form a memory of how many cans he’d swiped from his dad’s fridge before now.

“Um…4? I think?”

“You think?”

He pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh out of embarrassment.

The heat once again rose to his chiselled features, something she would never not find endearing about him. Sometimes it was worth saying something risque or embarrassing just to see this beanpole of a man blush.

His baby blue’s glimmered with drunkenness as he looked over at her, for a moment searching her face as if he was ticking off all boxes that were labelled with her features. Her eyes. Her lips. The gentle slant of her cheeks. The shape of her nose. How her dimples sank in when she smiled lovingly at him.

He was sure nobody in his life had ever looked at him the way she did.

It made him feel good and also like he wanted to hide at the same time.

“You wanna get home soon?”

He nodded without even thinking. God, he fucking loved her for that. The way she was able to know when he was socially complete without him having to say it.

Leaving in any British household, especially on Christmas Day, is an event in itself.

It takes twenty minutes minimum, to pack up all the things you have, piling the presents you’ve received into various bags for life, and giving a ceremonial hug and a peck on the cheek to all who are still awake and present. Often people who you’d circle back to once you finally made it to the door, graced with yet another hug goodbye.

It was solemnly enchanting, the clear roads on Christmas Day, the ice that clung to the side of the roads, and the grit that coated the middle. Christmas music blared through her radio, muffled by static, and about the sixtieth time that BBC Radio 1 had played ‘All I Want For Christmas is You’. And they’d both laughed, delirious from over-socialising, when she’d realised only halfway through the drive back home, that she was still wearing the shoddy tissue paper crown.

“Was Santa good to you this year?” she’d asked jokingly, briefly turning her head from the red light.

He huffed a laugh, “He’s about to be when we get home”.

She rolled her eyes, shifting the car into first, but unable to help the smile that rose to her face.

Billy’s flat was donned with the basics of Christmas decorations.

Fairy lights along the headboard of the bed, a tiny plastic tree on the side table, several tea lights along the TV stand and finally, the pièce de résistance, the scented faux pine candle sat in the middle of the coffee table. Lit and extinguished this morning, but still managed to fill the room with a pleasant woody fragrance.

Billy talked big when he was a bit drunk. But she knew him better than that.

And though Billy might have wanted to tear all her clothes off, pull her to the nearest flat surface and let her know all he’d wanted for Christmas, all he was able to do was snuggle in behind her on the sofa, throw one arm around her waist and kiss the top of her head as his brain swam.

It was just noise mostly, something to fill the comfortable silence as the late afternoon became late evening, the tea lights illuminating the front room with a pleasant atmosphere. She was sure he’d fallen asleep, the hand that was over her middle now firmly in hers, his long digits intertwined with her small ones. Not that she minded. She simply held his hand, using her other to scroll through her phone with the volume turned down so he wouldn’t wake up.

She clicked her phone off when she felt his arm tighten around her middle, tugging her back closer to him and turned her head up to smile at him, “Billy”.

His eyes were closed as if half asleep, his dark blonde eyelashes moving to betray the fact that he was indeed awake, but he only hummed, his hips chasing hers to grind against her backside. The alcohol had fuelled his desire, but had hindered his actual ability to act on said desires, and he made a noise of frustration when his body hadn’t reacted the way he wanted.

“...‘m sorry…”, he mumbled quietly, speech slurred endearingly.

“For what?”

“...’ts my little soldier…can’t…”

She had to press her lips together to stifle a laugh, not used to or remembering Billy being this loose-lipped under the influence of alcohol. All the while he was still pressing his soft and clothed length against your backside, willing his ‘little soldier’ to life, to no avail.

It was both endearing and amusing, that even in the state Billy was in he was trying, and god he really was trying, to initiate intimacy, fully knowing that the likelihood was that he wasn’t going to be able to. Much much too drunk to even think straight.

“It’s alright, Billy, just go to sleep, ok?”

He huffed much like a child would when you refused him something.

“...but it’s Christmas…”

“Sex on Christmas Day is no better than sex on any other day. Just get some sleep, okay?”

He sighed, slumping his head onto the cushion in something akin to defeat, fingers still threaded through hers on her stomach. But not a moment later, she heard his steady breaths and threw the blanket over him as well as her and laid her head down as well.

Waves of consciousness kept pulling her to the surface, a pleased sound falling from her lips as she parted them, feeling all warm both against her flesh and tugging in her gut as well.

She could feel Billy’s hot puffs of air against her neck and ear, the hair there reacting to his quickened breaths as they stood on end, her brain failing to realise quickly enough what was going on, and why her boyfriend lay behind her, was breathing so quickly.

That was until she heard him whimper, a stuttered moan following it.

“Mm…Billy?..”

Her eyelashes fluttered open, and instead of the warm ropes of sleep tugging her down it was something else, something hardpressing against her and chasing friction. His grip on her hands was so tight, his knuckles were almost white from the effort of holding back.

By now the candles had all burned out, save one, and the sky outside was pitch black, with the smallest flurry of snow decorating the darkness.

Hours had gone by.

She jumped when she felt his hands, colder than she expected, dip beneath her jumper and shirt, pressing his large palm against the flesh of her stomach, his little finger teasingly sliding beneath the waistband of her underwear.

“Sorry - babe, I need you…”

She could feel how impossibly hard he was through his jeans, chasing friction with every cant of his hips, using one hand to unzip them with difficulty as his other held onto her like she might disappear.

Freeing his length from his boxers, Billy almost moaned aloud when he saw that she was pulling her own jeans down as well, having woken more than aroused at the idea he was grinding against her searching for pleasure. So he made use of his hand and turned her face towards him, enveloping her soft, puffy lips with his own in a warm, wet kiss, not pausing for a moment to think about anything else other than having her right now, as he’d dreamt of doing since Christmas morning.

She nearly gasped when he slid his thick manhood into her, sheathing himself inside her in one, smooth confident movement, as if nothing, nothing, was going to stop him from basking in the warmth she offered.

In this position, with her thighs squeezed together, and his hand on her hips, pulling her back to him with each desperate thrust, it felt like so much more. And every blow to the sweet spot that lay deep inside her felt so utterly maddening, that her brain, still rising from sleep, felt like it was being shaken around.

She came with a choked cry, her grip on his wrist where his nimble fingers were applying frustratingly little pressure to her bud as he continued to piston into her. And when she was so close to begging him to stop from overstimulation, Billy leaned back a little, his teeth grazing against her neck and one hand palming her backside to push himself deeper as he too came with a long, broken whine.

His chest moved against her back with his heavy breathing, sucking in air into his lungs after the craze he’d just fallen over.

Billy pressed kisses to her neck and jaw in a sort of admiration, moving slightly with his length still buried inside her, eliciting a whimper from her as well as the friction.

She felt his eyelashes move against her cheek when he opened his eyes, “Did we really just shag with Die Hard on in the background?” he chuckled breathily.

This time, she couldn’t hold back her tired laugh, swatting his arm playfully, “you’re such a dickhead.”

He smiled wearily, turning her face once more to capture her swollen lips in a kiss, more tender this time without the urgency of desire.

“What was that about Christmas Day sex?” he prodded.

She furrowed her brows and double-tapped her phone.

23:49.

Cheeky fucker.

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[underdark-dreams]

I just binged all your Rolan x Tav fics on here (about to go to A03 and give kudos ❤️) and just wanted to say 😩😩 Perfect! AND! I saw you wanted suggestions! i would love to see the first interact/first meeting of Rolan and Tav from his POV if you felt inclined! No pressure! Thank you, keep up the good work! ❤️

I've grown so fond of this vague fem Tav I keep pairing with Rolan...so I hope these pronouns are ok for this request! Tav gets her name finally. (Cal and Lia also barged their way into this one in a big way)

Blades and Spells

A sanctimonious soldier isn't Rolan's idea of a good person to know, but is seems Tav is doing her damnedest to prove him wrong. The day of their first meeting at the Grove.

Tags: Fem Tav, Fluff, First Meetings, Sibling Bonding

Word Count: 4,322 [Read on AO3]

"We don't even know these people—"

"They're the closest thing we've got to kin, and you know it!"

The bright and promising midday had been punctured by a bloody ambush at the gate. Kanon was dead—a goblin booyagh's arrow and a nasty fall behind the front wall. No doubt his body was still cooling just a short walk from where the three siblings stood inside the shaded mouth of the Grove.

Their caravan's brief respite was shaken by the attack. Zevlor had retreated to strategize; the other Tieflings were on edge, a few downright panicked, the fresh tension around them only fueling the siblings’ words. 

It had been weeks since he and Lia had a proper fight—Rolan felt all the pent-up anger rolling out now.

Lia stood with fists braced on her hips. "And what about the goblins? I know you're handy with a spell, Rolan, but I seriously don't fancy our chances alone on the Risen Road."

"Did you not see what just happened?" Rolan said, casting an arm behind his sister toward the gate. "That treasure-hunting idiot just led them right down on our heads. There’s bound to be more, and I don’t want us sticking around to find out how many."

"That’s all the more reason to stay!” Lia’s voice rose to match his. “These people aren't fighters, Rolan. We’d be cowards to leave. We can protect them—we should—"

“Or keep making a scene,” Cal said from the sidelines, to no one in particular. The other Tieflings had grown used to their bickering many miles ago.

Lia was undeterred. "Is this about your precious Lorroakan? Because I promise you, Rolan, he'll still be there when we finally get to Baldur's Gate."

Rolan's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Oh of course not, why would I want to achieve my lifelong dream, see my family finally be safe and provided for along the way—"

"Don't put this on me and Cal," his sister warned. "It's all the same excuse, you'd have left these people yesterday—"

"Because they're not my kin!" Rolan practically shouted, not caring how far his voice carried. "No matter how many times you say it! I'm not going to risk all three of our lives, our futures, on people who can't seem to keep themselves alive. How do you think I'd feel if I let anything happen to you? Either of you?"

"We know, Rolan," Cal interjected, trying to bring a little understanding.

"If you care about me and my future—" Lia jabbed a sharp nail at Rolan's chest—"you won't ask me to turn my back on these people when they need our help."

As Rolan opened his mouth to respond, he caught motion in his periphery. He turned to see an unfamiliar face standing at the edge of their conversation. The stranger rested a hand on her sword pommel, looking on quietly curious at the scene.

"Yes?" Rolan snapped at her. Sticking your nose into a private conversation hardly deserved politeness.

“Wait," Cal piped up beside him. “I saw you at the gate after the goblins."

Lia was quick to follow, disagreement all but forgotten. “You fought out there just now?” She sounded practically jealous. “Sweet hells, that must have been a rush. We owe you.”

"Good timing, that’s all," the stranger replied, shifting her weight a little. From real or false modesty Rolan couldn't tell.

He finally recognized her then—the one he saw speaking with Zevlor for quite a while immediately after the attack. Judging by the flecks of wet blood on her equipment, and on that of her companions behind her, these were the surprise reinforcements he'd already heard other refugees chatting about in energetic tones.

They weren't so impressive in person. Scrappy, in Rolan's private judgment. His eyes passed over the pouting cleric, the murderous-looking Githyanki with a massive sword on her back, the elf who was glancing around himself as though trying to decide which element of his current surroundings he disliked most. 

The other wizard looked sane enough, Rolan allowed. He could practically feel the ripples in the Weave all around the man's shoulders. Perhaps Rolan would have a chance at an intelligent conversation in this place after all.

As for the one in front—she smiled pleasantly at Rolan despite having just walked from a goblin ambush. That, to his mind, marked her as the most eccentric of all.

"Tav," she said, extending her sword hand. Rolan glanced down at the dark stains on her fingers.

Wasn't this hovel filthy enough? His clothes already smelled of smoke and grease from days in close quarters; he drew the line at smearing them with goblin blood.

Tav tracked his eyes, letting out an awkward laugh as she moved to wipe her palm on her pants. From beside him, Lia firmly intercepted the handshake.

"Lia. Forgive my brother, you know how wizards are about their robes." His sister's tone was light, but she shot him a look from the corner of her eye. 

As if Rolan cared what some passing stranger thought of him. If he’d had his way, they wouldn't be here to have this conversation at all. But Cal introduced himself as well, looking a bit starstruck.

“Well met,” Tav told them, Rolan included. “Sorry, I know I’m interrupting.”

Perhaps sensing Rolan was about to agree, Lia jumped in. “Please. It’s a pleasure to meet people willing to risk their necks for a bunch of strangers, especially Tieflings. You all heading to Baldur’s Gate?”

“Aye. Same as you, I imagine—”

The inanity was enough to drive Rolan mad; it was like their first days on the road from Elturel all over again. He crossed his arms and zoned out as she and his sister made their meaningless smalltalk. He'd rather get his tail stepped on than do this painful getting-to-know with one more person they’d never see again. 

Then he heard Lorroakan's name, and his ears perked up.

“He’s taken Rolan as an apprentice,” Cal was telling Tav proudly.

"Have you met Archmage Lorroakan?" Rolan asked her, suddenly interested in the conversation again. Tav looked at him with hesitation.

"Not personally. Gale said—" She glanced down the slope deeper into the Grove, and Rolan realized that the companions behind her had all trickled away in the short moment he hadn’t been paying attention. Seeking rest and recuperation, no doubt. "Gale was saying he's heard of him."

The human wizard, Rolan gathered. Hearing a stranger speak the archwizard’s name somehow rekindled the fire in Rolan’s chest, one he hadn’t realized had grown so low on fuel. He clenched his fist beside his robes and felt the crinkle of Lorroakan’s letter there in his pocket.

Tav was regarding him with a quizzical expression. "I mean, if an archmage that famous has an apprenticeship waiting for you…I guess I can’t blame you for wanting to move on sooner than later."

"Naturally," Rolan said, a bit stiff. It annoyed him that this newcomer could see more sense than his own siblings.

Then she continued. "But Lia's right. You three seem like you can handle yourselves, and I'm not sure the same could be said for everyone here. We'll need every fighting soul to defend against that goblin nest. Especially you—" Tav directed the comment to Rolan. "Having another Weave caster could make all the difference."

Well, so much for sense. Speaking of we and us as if they all had the same goals. A transparent tactic. Rolan wasn't sure what altruistic world Tav had waltzed out of, but he'd heard enough rousing speeches on kinship and unity from people like Zevlor to last him a lifetime. He wasn't about to listen to one from a stranger.

She was correct, however, to acknowledge the value of his skills. No one on the road here had displayed anything close to what Rolan knew he was capable of.

He glanced one more time between his siblings. The set of Lia's jaw told him her mind was well made up. Cal just looked hopeful for a resolution.

Rolan swore. "Fine. We've only taken our damn time getting here, what’s a few more days lost? If we’re lucky, we’ll reach the city with a good story, at least."

"Thank you, Rolan." Lia was meek now that she'd gotten her way.

“You must be quite skilled,” added Tav, sizing him up a bit. "To catch the eye of the Archwizard of Baldur's Gate."

Rolan didn’t miss a beat. "I am.” Cal rolled his eyes over Tav’s shoulder, but Rolan ignored him. “I’ve been manipulating the Weave since I was a child.”

“It’s true,” Lia confirmed. Still feeling guilty about winning the fight, perhaps.

“Really?” Tav broke into a grin, clearly impressed. Rolan drank in the admiration. "Good thing you're staying, then."

Behind his pride, Rolan couldn't help but feel a bit manipulated. Perhaps Tav wasn't the unsophisticated sellsword that she’d appeared at first.

"Well, I should go find the crew before they make too much trouble.” Tav was turning to leave before she paused, sheepish. “Say—don’t suppose druids keep a blacksmith around? One of those worgs’ teeth put a big scratch in my baby here.” As she spoke she looked down at the sword belted to her hip, almost like an indulgent parent.

“Dammon can fix you up,” Lia told her at once. “He’s one of us, a Tiefling. And he’s damn good. Take a left down the hill and you can’t miss him. Follow the loud noises,” she added, with a grin to match.

“Cheers,” Tav told her. “See you all later?”

The three of them watched her figure disappear deeper into the Grove. 

"She stabbed a warg right up close,” Lia murmured, sounding morbidly inspired. “That’s incredible.”

Rolan scoffed at her. “Better to kill it from a distance and not damage your most valuable piece of equipment in the process.”

“Hey.” Cal glanced over to his older brother. “Did you even tell her your name?”

Rolan wasn’t concerned. “I’ll tell her later, if she’s still around.” She and her companions would remember his name soon enough—them and all of Baldur's Gate.

—

In these cramped quarters, it didn’t take long before they encountered Tav again. Her hands swung a bit awkwardly at her sides, as if she didn’t know what to do with them. Her scabbard clanked empty against her greaves; presumably, Dammon was hard at work repairing her blade. 

Cal and Lia practically swooped down beside her as she approached. Rolan tried to hide his scowl at their eagerness.

"Have you been around the place yet? Cal and I can show you around, if you’ve got time.”

“I’d like that,” she told them both with a genuine smile. “Perhaps later, if you’re willing? Zevlor told me about your…druid problem. I promised him I’d have a talk with Kagha.”

Who had elected her emissary? Rolan glowered. "I assure you, the druids will tell you it's a foulblood problem."

It wiped the smile from her face, and Rolan found it difficult to feel bad. She wanted to dig through other people's problems? She could get used to uncovering ugly things.

"Yes…well. I'd prefer to keep an open mind," she told him evenly. With another small comment to his brother and sister, she continued on toward the deep clearing where the druids were gathering in preparation for their rite. A place strictly off-limits for Tieflings.

Lia rounded on him. "I swear, you embarrass me worse than Cal sometimes."

Cal frowned. "Hey—"

"Because you care too much about what people think," Rolan answered his sister. "Believe me, she and her people don't care about us. Didn't you hear her little speech before? She only wants more bodies for the fight."

Internally, Rolan was still bristling at the idea that Tav had complimented and cajoled him into staying at the Grove. He didn’t truly believe that was the reason for his decision, but the fact that she’d gotten to him at all unsettled him.

“Come on.” Lia knocked her arm against his playfully, an effort at reconciliation. “I’m just saying, Rolan. It costs nothing to be a bit nicer to people around here.”

Rolan heaved a sigh. Even he was growing weary from all the bickering they’d done today, though he’d never admit that to his sister. “All right. I’ll try, if it makes you happy. But believe me—people like her look after themselves. And I intend to look after us.”

—

Tav hadn’t been in the heart of the Grove for more than ten minutes before she reappeared, practically stomping up the path from the Kagha’s inner sanctum. Apparently the emissary work wasn’t going so well. Without her sword, her hands were clenched at her sides in empty fists. Her expression was thunderous.

“Have you seen Zevlor?” She asked the three of them as she approached, bypassing the smalltalk Rolan was beginning to expect from her. He directed her back toward the carved door in the corner of the cave. 

“Everything all right?” Rolan asked, curious in spite of himself.

Tav exhaled sharp through her nose. “Kagha was having a grand time interrogating a hostage. That little girl, Arabella.”

“What?” Cal’s voice rang with alarm.

“I guess she tried to steal the druids’ carving of Silvanus,” Tav told him. “The one they need for their ceremony. Her mother was nearly out of her mind…the child’s all right,” she added in haste. “Back safe with her parents now, but shaken up.”

Lia quivered with outrage at Rolan’s side. “Thank the hells you intervened.”

“Of course,” Tav replied at once, as if the situation called for nothing less. “I understand it’s the idol of their deity, but by all the gods…Kagha was ready to call her asp down on a terrified child.”

“That fucking viper." 

Cal wasn’t referring to the snake; his siblings both glanced at him in surprise. He was a gentle soul, but if Cal cared about anything, it was protecting the young ones.

Tav seemed of the same mind. “There’s something about her,” she agreed with a dark look. Abruptly, she wheeled on Rolan. “What do you think?”

She sought his opinion as a wizard, he realized. All three of them were watching him, in fact, hanging on for his answer.

“Ritual magic is quite different from the Weave,” Rolan replied carefully. “Especially druidic magic. I don’t have the same feel for it. But Kagha…” 

He cast his mind back to the first day their bedraggled caravan arrived in the Grove. The lot of them exhausted and bloodied after fighting off goblins and gnolls just up the road. Halsin, the massive elf who was then First Druid, squaring his shoulders above the smaller woman who somehow seemed to tower to his same height.

“She’s powerful,” Rolan decided. “Quite. Where it comes from, I couldn’t say.”

Tav was staring at him with an intensity Rolan hadn’t seen on her face yet. She looked far more intimidating than she had to him before. 

But then she let out a thoughtful hum, and her features were back to their usual lightness. “I guess that’s one more reason to find this Halsin sooner rather than later.”

They all watched her take her leave toward Zevlor’s makeshift war room, the stone door sliding shut again behind her.

—

As the sun dipped below the horizon and a stiff evening breeze picked up at the cave’s entrance, Rolan and his siblings settled toward the insulated back wall of the Grove where Okta was tending hearth. Whatever the old woman had simmering in her massive cauldron smelled a bit like damp wool, but the warmth of the coals underneath was toasty and wonderful against the skin on Rolan’s face and hands.

Cal and Lia were in wistful discussion on either side of him—something about which landmarks of the city they wanted to visit first. Rolan let the feel of the conversation wash over him without hearing the words. His eyes were on the glowing coals, but his mind was also on Baldur's Gate—that and its great archwizard. 

You are fortunate, young Rolan. The flourish with which Lorroakan had written his name floated through his mind's eye. Even the parchment itself was heavy and fine, almost promising of better things. Rolan’s fingers brushed the hip pocket of his robes again as if to assure himself. He still carried the letter with him everywhere, though he’d long since memorized its contents.

From behind him Rolan heard the sounds of a friendly disagreement and turned to look. Tav again. He shouldn’t be surprised; the woman seemed to be everywhere today. 

Across the path, she was engaged in a polite argument with Dammon at his tent. The smith held a hand up as if refusing something. Rolan caught sight of the polished sword pommel back in her scabbard once more, and surmised that Dammon must be turning down payment for the repair job after her help at the gate today. That seemed like his chivalrous style. 

Indeed, Rolan watched her tuck her leather coin purse away and offer a hand instead. Dammon accepted and shook it with a warm smile.

As he continued watching, the two struck up a friendly conversation. Rolan supposed a soldier would find much more to talk about with a smith than with an apprentice wizard. Her hand was draped at rest over her sword hilt again; that seemed to be an idle habit of hers. 

He remembered the city guard back in Elturel displaying the same gesture while posted at watch, and wondered whether she might be in a similar line of work. Back in…wherever it was she hailed from.

Insipid questions that Rolan nevertheless filed away in his mind to ask her at some point. If nothing else, it would make Lia happy to see him making an effort. Being nice.

Rolan glanced again at the dark stains on her fingers. She hadn't taken time to wash and rest yet since the fight. It was all over her, goblin blood and human, small flecks of it visible on her clothing and chestplate and even on the side of her face. Didn't she find it unpleasant? It would drive him mad. But it didn't seem to concern her, and Dammon certainly didn't look bothered.

The smith said something that made her laugh then, and a dimple appeared in Tav's blood-spattered cheek.

Dammon had an easy way about him that always seemed to earn him fast friends. Right now, Rolan found he was a bit envious of the trait. He didn't intend to come off as such a prickly ass, as Lia so affectionately liked to call him—though time and again he seemed to manage it. 

The constant setbacks between them and Baldur's Gate had just soured Rolan's mood in recent weeks, he told himself. His apprenticeship was all his mind could dwell on at rest, and each delay was harder to bear than the last.

But none of that was really Tav's fault. Inwardly, he could admit that Lia would have talked him into staying on her own anyway. Rolan found himself hoping that he'd made a non-terrible impression on the newcomer.

An elbow in his ribs broke his line of thought. "What?" Rolan looked around, rubbing the spot with a hand.

"I said, you're staring," Cal repeated. He and Lia were both looking at him—Rolan didn't like the expression on either face.

"Shut up," he said, though neither of them had spoken. "She's got blood all over her, who wouldn't?"

"I'm just saying." Cal put up both palms, his eyebrows raised. "From your face, you didn't seem that put off."

"Maybe she’d like to see your Thunderwave, Rolan," his sister suggested.

"You're both idiots." Rolan turned around with arms crossed, watching Okta pluck a dead chicken as though it might be interesting. The idiots on either side were not so easily deterred.

"There’s something about a woman in armor, isn't there, Cal?"

"I've always thought so." Cal leaned a forearm on Rolan's shoulder, sounding quite sincere. "Hey, you could offer to magic the bloodstains off her stuff for her. Use that presto—presti—"

"Prestidigitation," Rolan supplied, eyes still on Okta's cooking. A shockingly good idea from Cal. But it would be strange to offer that to a person he'd just met; Rolan dismissed the thought.

"She should've just taken the time to clean it herself before it all dried," Rolan said aloud. "The way her companions did, no doubt. Instead of running back and forth back here all day."

"Yeah," Lia drawled. "Saving little girls from pit vipers. What a waste of time."

“Well, only one way to find out if she’s interested.” Cal turned around and cupped a hand to his mouth. “Hey, Tav—”

Rolan would have smacked the back of his brother’s head had the woman not already turned toward the sound of her name. She approached their spot near the hearth looking politely curious.

“Lia was just wondering,” Cal started in—leaving Rolan’s name out of it, a smart choice for his skull— “won’t it take a long time to get all the stains out of your armor?” 

“Oh.” Tav sounded taken aback, but glanced down at herself as if just now noticing the state of her equipment. “Oh yeah, this’ll cost me a good half hour at least. And probably both my elbows,” she added with chagrin. “Damn. Got distracted by everything, I guess.”

“Because Rolan can magic it off in a second,” Lia said in a rush.

"Really?" Far from averse, she was looking at Rolan with sudden enthusiasm. "I didn’t know magic could—I mean, of course it can. I guess. Why, are you offering…?” She glanced between him and his siblings then, as if finally picking up on the strange energy between them.

Rolan felt all three pairs of eyes come to rest on him. He could hardly back out now. “If you’re interested,” he told her.

“Hells yes,” Tav laughed. “Are you kidding?”

Lia clapped her hands together softly. “Excellent. Well, since Tav’s interested—” She placed a strange emphasis on the word, one Rolan hoped only he noticed— “Cal and I should get going to set up camp. See you both later?”

“Right,” Cal agreed at once. With that, the pair of them slipped off in a few flicks of the tail. 

What a couple of damned children. Rolan let out a heavy sigh; they seemed determined to try every last slip of patience he had.

Tav followed him to a spot closer to the back corner of the Grove, a bit removed from the sounds and smells. A stream of cool air seeped in from somewhere outside the walls, and Rolan breathed in gratefully. He had found it hard to concentrate in the stale surroundings of this place.

“Right.” She stood opposite him, looking a bit unsure. “How does this work, exactly?”

“Just keep still,” Rolan advised her. This would be easier if she took off the pieces of her half-plate first, but asking her to do that seemed unthinkably familiar.

She did as he directed. “Sure you’re not going to transform me into a pigeon or something? Give me wings?”

“This is the simplest spell there is, I’m not an idiot.” Rolan’s tone was irritable, but it only made her laugh. He realized that she was teasing him.

Regardless, Rolan steadied his stance and reached out to the Weave. Whether or not it was technically correct, it was the way he’d taught himself. 

Breathe in—quiet each thought—feel the air above and the ground below—

Like a warm embrace from the oldest friend, the Weave flowed as a golden light into his cupped hand. Rolan formed the clear intention in his mind and guided the magic toward her. 

“It tickles,” Tav said in surprise, but he could tell she was doing her best to keep still. Her eyes were squeezed shut for some reason.

Rolan blinked at her, not sure how long she had expected this to take. “You can—it’s done.”

“Really?” Tav looked across her chest and shoulders and the greaves on her legs, admiring their new shine. “Wow…neat trick, that. So you’re saying Gale’s been watching us polish our armor and weapons every night when he could just use the Weave for two seconds?”

“The manipulation does take energy,” Rolan told her, not wanting to discredit a fellow wizard while he wasn’t here to defend himself.

Her expression changed a bit. Then she reached a hand to his shoulder. “Thanks for this, Rolan. It might be simple to you, but—” She dropped her arm and cast around with a tired laugh. “Life has honestly been…kind of terrible lately. Thank you for making it better.”

Rolan felt he could stand to hear more of that story, but he doubted she'd want to tell it. “You’re welcome,” he told her instead.

It was a bit awkward traveling back through the winding Grove together toward the entrance, but it could hardly be avoided. Their camps were both in the same direction.

The night patrol were watching vigilantly from the wall; the massive carved gate raised before them as if in anticipation. Rolan stepped out into the dark, cool evening with another grateful breath.

Beside him, Tav sighed wearily. "Well, 'night. Off to enjoy my extra sleep," she said with another smile to him before she turned away.

No such easy goodnight for him, Rolan knew. He imagined Cal and Lia perching awake on their bedrolls, eager to hear what chaos or embarrassment or both their meddling had caused for him this time. 

More concerning to him right now was the way his shoulder seemed to radiate where she'd placed a grateful hand before. Rolan rolled his arm a little, trying to shake the tingling warmth near his collar bone. It didn't quite work.

But perhaps he'd think about that tomorrow.

[buckybarnesss]

Heather - I once again come to you with strange character choices that Jeff made that actually make sense?

Like how Derek just stood there and took Allison's abuse of him (and by extension his pack) when she was manipulated into becoming emo!allison at the end of season 2 - but he still doesn't tell her??! that her mom was also a kool aid drunk psycho who wanted to kill the love of her life and also just a tiny baby 16 year old?! He doesn't tell her! He just stands there, stoically and withstands the abuse.

S3 derek is so _chefs kiss_ I LOVE LOVE that arc of him becoming more like his mother, where he embraces his ideals of power and family and pack and GOD I will never forget that moment in s4 where satomi looks like LOOKS at derek and goes "you really remind me of your mom" I gotta make that gifset one of these days.

derek and allison parallels my beloved.

derek is fully aware allison would never believe him about what went down with her mother no matter what he said. instead he tells her, "your family's little honor code killed your mother, not me." which is true. the argent code of suicide rather than be a werewolf due to their own bigotry is what ended up really killing victoria in the end. not once did chris or victoria stop to question it or the impact this would have on allison or how gerard could manipulate them and her. they're both fully indoctrinated into the hunting delusion of righteousness.

no the information that victoria attempted to kill scott has to come from scott. that's why derek kept pushing scott to tell her the truth. he could've ignored it all together but derek respected allison enough to believe that she deserved the truth of what happened. that it was unfair to hold back a vital piece of information as to what occurred in the timeline of victoria's death that led to allison being manipulated by gerard.

the truth doesn't exactly clear his name with allison but it provides context that derek was acting in defense of scott. something that could change allison's perception. i think some part of derek sympathizes with her because he's been manipulated, lied to and abused in the past himself. he knows what can happen to an otherwise decent person under those circumstances. he to an extent understands allison's pain.

scott withheld the information from a place of good -- he didn't want to hurt allison further by tainting the memory of her mother -- but ultimately doing so i think was selfish. the lack of information is what harmed allison more in the long run as it allowed gerard to manipulate her.

derek values truth and forthrightness which contrasts peter and lessons peter has attempted to teach derek. derek spends a lot of season 2 contending with that conflict and when he gives up his alpha spark to save his sister he proves to be his mother's son over peter's protégée. derek was able to walk away from power in a way that duecalion, peter, kate, gerard and jennifer were not. they were consumed by it and derek instead used his to save cora's life.

[hb-writes]

Just a Joke

Summary: When Mia gets hungry and tries to make herself dinner, her clumsy nature gets the best of her causing Edward and Esme to step in.

Characters: Esme Cullen, Edward Cullen, Bella Swan & Mia Cullen (OC)

Request (from anon): Hello! For June requests how about, “Don’t worry, I got this.” & “Come on, take my hand.” For Twilight pretty please 💜

Content Warnings: N/A

Twilight Masterlist

Please take a moment to tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️

Mia glanced up from her book as her stomach rumbled, the sound audible to her, and likely to her brother, but not to her brother’s girlfriend settled at the other end of the couch.

They had been sitting there on the couches in near silence ever since school let out, devouring their respective books for hours as Edward practiced piano in the next room over. Since the rest of Mia’s siblings left for Denali straight from the school parking lot, they’d been left entirely undisturbed. It was a rare gift, that, and Bella hadn’t pulled her eyes from the book since settling, completely absorbed in the pages before her.

Edward probably should have been with the others in Denali. He needed to hunt just as much as the rest of them, but he’d elected to stay behind, something he was doing more and more often these days—trading his lengthier hunting trips with the others for short stints that allowed him to remain only borderline satiated, but far closer to home. 

Mia loved her brother, and there was a time when being apart for any significant portion of time had been difficult, but she wasn’t entirely certain if Edward’s near-constant presence these days was a gift or not, though she supposed it divided her parents’ attention a bit. The presence of Bella gave her parents someone else to fuss over, too. 

Esme had gone out shortly after they arrived home, giving the kids their space as she often did, but Mia knew she would return soon. Carlisle would be back from his shift at the hospital any time now, too, and Mia was certain it was only a matter of time before the parents descended, soliciting their opinions on dinner, ready for the rare opportunity to cook for two rather than one.

Mia couldn’t remember the last time they’d let her cook anything for herself, so rare was it that they gave up the opportunity to dote. The opportunity to engage in something so entirely human as cooking. Mia liked to joke that she'd never survive on her own since they let her do so little in the kitchen. It wasn't far from the truth.

Mia watched Bella for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to interrupt the girl's reading, the only sound between them Edward's piano and another rumble of Mia's stomach.

“Bella,” Mia whispered, nudging the girl with her foot when the whispering didn’t provide any result other than a shift in Edward’s playing to something quieter and slower in tempo. 

Mia rolled her eyes, glaring at her brother through the wall for his nosiness. 

“Hmm?” Bella asked after a moment, finally pulling her eyes from the book as she finished her paragraph. She blinked as if she'd forgotten where she was. As if by pulling her eyes from the words on the page she was suddenly somewhere else entirely.

“Are you hungry?” Mia asked.

Bella glanced back to the book for a moment before meeting Mia’s eye, a grimace on her lips. “Starved, actually.”

Mia nodded, standing up from the couch and depositing her blanket and book. “Then I’ll make us something.” 

Mia strode across the floor and through the next room where Edward had already stood to meet her.

“What do you want?” he asked. “I’ll make it.” 

Mia waved her brother off. “I can cook for myself, Edward.” 

Edward raised an eyebrow. "Since when?"

"Since I can," she answered, pushing him out of her path. “Don’t worry, I got this.” 

Edward followed after her. He was poised to argue, poised to insist that his sister take up his offer, but Bella cleared her throat from the threshold of the living room, giving him a pointed look. 

“Leave her alone, Edward.” 

“Yeah, Edward, leave me alone,” Mia echoed, throwing a smirk at him as she then gave a grateful smile to Bella. Edward raised his hands in surrender and Mia turned away, practically skipping to the kitchen.  

Mia skid to a halt as she entered the pristine kitchen. The cabinets and refrigerator were fully stocked, or as fully stocked as the family ever dared to be considering it was only Mia who ever actually ate anything. She was feeling snacky, uncertain that she had enough patience in her to cook an entire meal when her stomach already felt so empty, but she diligently looked to the paper where Esme had already planned the meals for the week anyway. Spinach lasagna—one of Mia’s favorites—was next on the docket, but that would take well over an hour to prepare and cook.

As hungry as she was, Mia wouldn't last that long, and yet she strived to make a point.

She was capable of cooking for herself.

Capable of following a simple recipe.

Mia moved around the kitchen, pulling one of the cookbooks out as she headed to her favorite cabinet—the snack cabinet—grateful that there was still something satisfying and snacky left there, some healthy version of a chip that Mia had come to like at a certain point because it wasn’t as if her family was going to allow actual junk food into the house.

She poured out a portion into a bowl before walking to the living room where Edward and Bella were seated on the couch, in a vaguely respectful position, though Mia hadn’t missed the flush of Bella’s cheeks and the awkward positioning.

She had given them plenty of notice, walking with purpose and making certain that her steps were able to be heard. 

“Appetizer,” Mia announced as she set the bowl on the coffee table before walking back to the kitchen.

Mindlessly snacking on her own bowl of pseudo-chips, Mia flipped through the book and found the lasagna recipe. She had seen the process probably hundreds of times, settled at the counter while she watched her mother or father or one of her siblings putting the meal together for her. 

There were times when her family went through the process of making the pasta by hand. There were times when the noodles came from a box. Mia knew without a thought that she would be doing the latter. 

Wiping the chip dust on her hands off on her jeans, Mia moved around the room, pulling out the necessary ingredients. The noodles, the sauce ingredients, the cheeses, the spinach. Mia mixed the ricotta mixture together and started the sauce on the stove before she started searching the cabinets for the glass baking dish. 

She searched the bottom row of cabinets twice before deciding it wasn't in its usual spot. Biting her lip, Mia surveyed the upper cabinets. Two cabinets in, she spotted the dish on the top shelf, clearly put away by one of her brothers.

Mia reached out for it, but it was just out of reach even when she leaned on the counter, lifting up onto the tips of her toes. She could get a good grip on it if she got up on the counter, but Mia knew better. She was clumsy and it wasn't safe and she had no interest in visiting her father in the emergency room on a Friday afternoon.

So Mia refrained, instead pulling a pair of tongs from one of the nearby drawers. She just needed to pull it down a few inches and then she could catch it in her other hand.

Mia set about it, standing on the tips of her toes once again for a little extra height. She reached out, setting her tongs around the glass handle of the dish. She eased the dish towards the edge, all of her focus there until she heard the gentle click of the door to her left.

She pulled her eyes from the dish to see her mother standing there, back from running her errands in town. 

Mia flinched as dish tipped from the shelf. She let out a scream as the glass shattered around her upon impact, shards littering the floor at her feet.

Edward was there in the doorway less than a second later, soon enough to witness Mia’s fear shift to annoyance as she cursed under her breath. 

“Come on, take my hand,” Esme said softly, extending a hand to guide her daughter safely through the field of glass littering the kitchen floor. “We'll clean this up and Edward will get you another dish so you can finish cooking,” she said, nodding at Edward and then to the cabinets. 

“It smells delicious,” Esme told Mia as she gathered her daughter to her side, an arm around her shoulders. 

Edward was unable to stop himself from snorting as he crossed the room, easily stepping around the glass. He was sure it smelled fine to a human, but to him…and to his mother…whatever his sister was putting together smelled nothing less than abhorrent.

“Yeah, maybe if you like dirt,” he said, earning a sharp glance from Esme by way of reprimand. 

"Ah, yes. Of course." Mia pulled out of her mother's hold. “Because you prefer the entrancing scent of blood. I can step on a piece of glass if that would be—”

Mia stretched a bare foot out towards the glass, barely making it within a few inches before a pair of deceptively strong arms lifted her from the floor.

“Hey! Put me down!” Mia complained as she hung draped over Esme’s shoulder. It looked ridiculous, the woman holding the teenaged girl in such a position when she was barely five and a half feet tall.

"Please?" Mia added, but Esme made no effort to let her down.

“Not in my kitchen,” Esme answered as she carried Mia to the edge of the room. "You’re officially banned."

“Mom, it was just a joke, I swear,” Mia said, her arms gesturing to accompany her words even as she dangled upside down. “Look, Edward’s even laughing.” 

Esme twisted to glance at her son, and the look she gave alone wiped a bit of the smirk from Edward's face.

He wasn't laughing at his sister's "joke." Truth be told, Edward hadn’t found it particularly funny either, but he couldn’t help but chuckle at the image of Esme swinging his sister over her shoulder and carrying her around. Even as Esme looked at him, the grin on his face grew once again. He couldn't help it, but then he met Esme's eye once again.

As Edward’s face sobered a bit further, Esme lowered Mia to the floor in front of her. 

“Well, you’ll both have to excuse me for not finding the notion of my daughter slicing herself open very funny,” she said, frowning at her daughter and then at Edward. “I don’t believe your father would find it very funny either.” 

“I know, I know.” Mia sighed, forcing herself to take a breath before she gave a proper response. Even if it was only a joke, she knew her parents could be testy about that sort of thing, her father especially. “I’m sorry. There’s really no need to revoke kitchen privileges. I promise I wasn’t actually going to—”

“Maybe it’s for the best, Mia,” Edward interrupted from where he now stood at the counter, his nose wrinkling as he hovered over the lasagna components. “This really does smell like—”

Esme opened her mouth to interrupt—to chastise, but she simply rose an eyebrow at him instead. 

“It was just a joke,” Edward answered. 

“Not a very funny one,” Mia answered. 

“Alright,” Esme said, stepping back in front of Mia, meeting both her and Edward’s eyes in turn before continuing. “That’s enough. Both of you take your jokes and get out of my kitchen.” 

Mia was poised to complain…poised to continue making her case for being allowed to stay and finish up her dinner, but Edward was too quick and too strong, and he swept his sister up in his arms before she could say another word. 

Esme only rolled her eyes fondly as Edward carried a complaining Mia away. While the sound of children arguing may have frayed the patience of some mothers, Esme found she didn’t mind the sound of Edward and Mia teasing. Just as she didn't mind the opportunity to finish putting together dinner for Mia and Bella. 

Even if Edward was right. 

The lasagna did smell like dirt.

Twilight Masterlist

[librosamarillos]

passed down like folk songs

chapter 1: evergreen

Maegor Targaryen x OC

Also on Ao3

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Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

After terrorising @heartstalked’s inbox with my blurbs as 🍼anon, here’s a fic based on all the breeding kink asks, but we’re gonna suffer first I’m afraid. Is this proofread? Nope. Is this just taylor swift inspired fic? Of course it is.

Dragonstone was not what she was expecting. Nothing like what she was used to in Starfall, surrounded completely by the beautiful forest. It felt cold and strange, but she held onto her father’s hand and kept walking.

Rowan wasn’t entirely sure why she was there, she was only eight, and children weren’t normally asked to join their fathers at their work. Her father, Lord Duncan Evergreen, was a favourite among Queen Visenya’s council, and was summoned to Dragonstone often. As Rowan glanced up at him, he looked a bit nervous. She wasn’t sure if that made her feel any better.

The Queen was one she was anxious to meet. She’d never seen Visenya Targaryen up close, only hearing her father’s tales of her. And of course the rumours around the Reach, about this strange family, flooded her mind, most of them about the Queen herself. Of her sternness, her coldness in comparison to her sister wife, Queen Rhaenys, that she was a witch and fed people that displeased her to her terrifying dragon Vhagar. It made her shiver. Although her father told her to pay no mind, she couldn’t help it.

House Evergreen was a small, but very wealthy house in the Reach, providing the kingdom with wood, honey and berries. Lord Duncan was the second son, his brother Lucas inheriting their house’s seat in Starfall, in the mountains. In the last year, he had lost his beloved wife, the Lady Edith. The loss of his wife affected both him and his only daughter, Rowan, greatly. His brother had offered to have her stay with them while he worked for the Queen, but before he left, she told him to bring his daughter with him.

And there they were now, making their way to the gate of the castle that looked so strange and foreign to her. It appeared so cold and distant. A loud roar startled the little girl, who clung onto her father for dear life, as a giant dragon flew above them, wandering in the sea. The great beasts didn’t fill her with wonder, they terrified her.

“It’s alright, my sweet, Vhagar is only hunting. You’ll get used to it.” her father’s calm voice reassured her.

Rowan could only nod, as she discovered her voice could not leave her throat. How often had her father seen the dragon up close that he was so calm? From the book he brought her on Old Valyria, she knew Vhagar was the name of the god of war, and from the stories she heard, Vhagar truly lived up to the name, as did Queen Visenya, she was sure.

As they entered the castle, Rowan let go of her father’s hand to fix her hair from all the wind. She knew they’d be lead to the Queen herself, and she didn’t want to make a bad impression. Her father smiled.

“You look lovely, do not fret.” he chuckled, patting her head lightly.

The guards lead them, not to the throne room, as she assumed, but to a smaller room, one that possibly held meetings. There, in the center of the room, sat the Queen. The gown she wore was much simpler than the one Queen Rhaenys wore when Rowan saw her, but she liked it best. When she imagined a warrior queen, the image of Visenya certainly fulfilled what she pictured. She stood tall, her silver hair in an intricate braid, her purple eyes stern, studying her.

“Lord Evergreen, welcome back to Dragonstone.” her voice was formal and deep, her eyes shifting from her to her father.

“Thank you, your grace, it is always an honour to be here.” he said, giving a small bow.

The Queen made her way to them, making Rowan nervously squeeze her father’s hand, which he gave a reassuring squeeze back.

“If I may introduce my daughter, the Lady Rowan.” he smiled, looking at his child.

“Your grace.” Rowan said shyly, giving a curtsy, as the Queen looked at her.

“I hope you enjoy your stay here Lady Rowan. Your father has told me you enjoy reading; feel free to go to the library any time you wish.” Visenya gave the young girl a small smile, as her face lit up.

“Truly? Thank you, your grace, thank you!” Rowan smiled, now at ease.

Visenya watched the young girl from the window, as she walked around with her father. She remembered how hard his wife’s death hit him, she imagined how much worse it would’ve been for the girl. It felt wrong to invite him to her council for so many moons at a time and leaving his daughter behind. Duncan Evergreen grew to be her most trusted advisor. She could even call him a friend, had they not been so bound by formalities. And from what she saw, his daughter was a little miniature of him. They both had the same auburn curls, freckled faces, bright green eyes and friendly smiles. She was his pride and joy, Visenya could tell, from the way he talked about her. She seemed like a sweet girl.

There wasn’t much to do for a child in Dragonstone, she had to admit, but if all her father said was true, Rowan would spend most of her time devouring the books in the library. There were no other children on the island, other than her own son, Maegor, who had no interest in anything other children seemed to enjoy. By last year, he started to use a real blade in his training, Visenya thought proudly. He was going to be a great warrior, she knew it. The maesters didn’t find him to be the most pleasant child to be around, so perhaps it would do him some good to make a friend.

Visenya thought back to King’s Landing. That’s where she should be, that’s where her son should be growing up. Surrounded by his future subjects and his parents by his side. She sighed. She knew this was for the best. Maegor was strong, she knew he could handle what life threw at him, but she was still inclined to shield him from pain as much as she could. He didn’t have to go through what she’s lived through her whole life. She wasn’t entirely sure if it was him she was protecting or herself.

Perhaps both.

She felt like she was being watched. Rowan, admittedly, was quite lost, all of the hallways appearing the same to her. It was all the same cold stone walls in her eyes, she wasn’t sure how she’d find her way around for six whole moons. For a while, she couldn’t find anyone, not a maid, a servant, a maester, nobody. It was starting to freak her out, when she had the feeling somebody was there. She froze, unsure of what to say.

“Uh… hello?” her voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes wide.

She nearly jumped when she turned around to see a boy her age standing behind her. How had she now heard him? He eyed her suspiciously, as if he was sizing her up. She calmed herself and blinked in surprise. She knew the Queen had a son, and this was definitely him. He truly looked just like his father, but he had his mother’s eyes.

She had briefly met his half brother, Prince Aenys, back in King’s Landing. The two brothers could not be more different. Aenys was cheery, welcoming and smiled freely and brightly, whereas Maegor seemed reserved, serious, even a bit scary.

“What are you doing here?” he asked sternly.

“I- I got lost. All the hallways look the same to me.” she admitted, feeling incredibly embarrassed in that moment.

“I see.” he said, as if he hadn’t thought this through, an awkward silence falling between them.

He was taller than her, wearing his sparring clothes, she assumed. He had his hair cut short, just like the King did. She wondered why he was not raised with his brother in the capital. The city was booming, there was always something to do, somewhere to go, unlike here. But perhaps the Prince did not enjoy the city? Rowan awkwardly played with the fabric of her dress, unsure of what to say, but luckily, he broke the silence first.

“You’re Lord Duncan’s daughter.” he stated, as it was clear as day.

“And you’re Queen Visenya’s son.” she replied, earning a nod.

“Prince Maegor.” he introduced himself to her.

“Rowan. My prince.” she replied, with a small curtsy.

“Mother asked for you and your father to join everyone for dinner. You should get ready.” he stated, pausing for a moment, remembering that she was lost. “Follow me.”

Before she could answer, he grabbed her hand and started walking, dragging her along with him. After a silent five minutes, they were somehow outside of her chambers. He let go of her hand, and she looked up at him in awe.

“How did you know these were my chambers?” she asked, her eyes wide.

He almost let out a scoff.

“I live here. I know which chambers they prepare for the guests. A man has to pay attention to what goes on around him.” he said, as if she should’ve known this by heart.

“Oh.” was all she could say, before biting her lip. “Well, thank you for your help, my prince. I’ll go prepare for supper.” she said, giving him a small shy smile, before disappearing into her rooms.

Maegor stood there for a moment, eyes fixed on her door, before returning to his own chambers to prepare for dinner.

Rowan quickly freshened up, pulling her hair free of the braid it was in and braided only the top half, twisting it into a bun. After some adjustment, she was satisfied with her work. She put on her evening dress and sat on the edge of her bed, playing with her rings nervously. Had she made a fool of herself in front of the prince? She hoped not. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, but she still felt ashamed of being lost and needing help the first time she met the only other person her age on the island. If he hated her, it would be a grueling six moons.

She truly pondered why the Queen resided here in Dragonstone with her son. If all the stories her parents told her were true, then it was Visenya that did most of the hard work during the conquest, thus, should she not be in the capital reaping her rewards? King Aegon and Queen Rhaenys certainly seemed to do so, the Queen basking in the glory of her fawning singers and poets, enjoying lavish feasts in her name, the most expensive dresses and jewels. Did their sister not enjoy such a life, was that it? Then again, she was the one most feared out of the three.

Rowan truly could not grasp how Aegon wed his own sisters. It was truly a disgusting thing to think about, she couldn’t imagine marrying her cousins, let alone any brother if she had one. She didn’t dare say a word though. That seemed to be the silent understanding, at least in the Reach. Although unnatural and gross, if one valued their life, they held their tongue. But that didn’t stop whispers. Her father explained it was custom to do such things in Valyria, as they wanted to contain the ability to ride a dragon within their own family, but that didn’t stop her grimace.

She thought back to the King. He was a formal man, barely acknowledging her, only doing so when he extended his condolences about her mother’s death. Queen Rhaenys, however, seemed warm. Too warm. She had opened her arms, looking at her expectantly, her pale violet eyes urging her to come in her embrace, which is what Rowan, albeit very reluctantly, did. She offered her words of comfort, petting her curly hair, while her husband looked fondly at them. Although Rowan should feel honoured that a Queen was comforting her like this, she felt uneasy. Her warmth felt empty, just like her words. Rowan decided she didn’t like her very much. Something within her said so, and it felt like a warning. So she thanked her, with a polite smile and kind words.

The Prince Aenys, who was quite older than her, at ten and six, also extended his condolences. Rowan felt at ease, enjoying his presence much more than the King and Queen’s. She did think it was quite funny that his parents gave him the same name as his mother, save for one letter. What a strange family this was.

She was glad her father worked for Queen Visenya. Although scary, Rowan felt quite at ease with her. Perhaps it was the fact that she paid attention when her father had mentioned her interests to her, when she made the generous offer of free range to the library. Or the fact that she didn’t sense any false niceties. And of course, her father trusted her.

Much to Visenya’s surprise, the two children became fast friends. She wasn’t sure how, but in just a few moons, you could not find one without the other. She was glad to see her son smile freely around his newfound friend, and the girl also seemed more at ease than when she first arrived at the castle. Indeed, she found the air lighter with another child here, although she did love the quiet solitude Dragonstone offered her.

She had become quite fond of Rowan herself. Duncan’s daughter was a sweet child, ever the proper little lady. She was like a sponge with information, no doubt just like her father. Visenya had offered to teach her High Valyrian, since many of the books in the library were not in the common tongue. She thought she wouldn’t have the patience for it, but in yet another surprising turn of events, she found it calming, especially when she needed a break from her duties.

This was one of those days. She asked Rowan to sit in front of her vanity, handing her a book on gardening, since the subject was familiar to her, it would make it easier to remember. The young girl clumsily read out to her, while Visenya tried to braid her auburn curls, which appeared to be the most challenging of the two tasks. But Rowan didn’t complain, just smiled at her with encouragement, sometimes letting out a tiny giggle. Visenya couldn’t help but smile as well.

Maegor was her whole world, but she often wondered what it would be like to have a daughter, a little girl of her own. She saw a lot of her younger self in Rowan. She remembered how much she loved reading as a child, how she loved her time with Aegon at the citadel. But she found no time for it between training, battle, war and conquering kingdoms. It wasn’t the first love that was taken from her. She glanced at the little girl in front of her, her focused eyes in the mirror. She wondered what it would be like to have a daughter like her. She didn’t think herself capable of creating something so pure and sweet. Her Maegor was born a warrior, she saw the wild, raging fire in him reflecting her own and his father’s from the moment he had opened his eyes for the first time. In Rowan all she could see was the spark of a warm fireplace, calm, safe, warm.

“Did I say it wrong, your grace?” she asked.

“No, no, in fact you’ve improved since last time. Have you been practicing with Maegor?” Visenya offered her a small smile.

“Yes, he’s been kind enough to help me out.” she beamed, happy to spend more time with her son.

It did them both good to become friends. It lifted Rowan’s spirits from the loss of her mother, and brought Maegor out of his shell. The maesters even told her of the young Prince improving in all his subjects, now that he had Rowan join in. He seemed to relax around her.

After another failed braid, Visenya sighed in defeat and began to let the hair loose. Rowan had told her that her father would help her braid her hair when she needed help, so she thought she could show her some Valyrian style braids, which proved to be difficult on wild curls.

She felt Rowan’s eyes on her. The girl had this peaceful aura around her, and her gaze felt knowing. Like she could see right through a person. Normally, this would have Visenya on high alert, but something about her made her feel safe. Like she wanted someone to see her. To understand her. That’s what Rowan’s gaze felt like, a quiet understanding. That was the thing between women wasn’t it? The silent knowing look. Something Maegor would never know of as a man.

She snapped out of her thoughts.

“Are your bags ready for King’s Landing?” she asked, earning a nod.

“Yes, your grace!”

“You seem excited.” she pointed out.

“I am. I miss the capital quite a bit.” Rowan admitted.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to join Maegor and I on Vhagar? It would be much faster.” she chuckled at how quickly the girl’s smile dropped.

Rowan, unlike most children, was terrified of dragons and did not regard them with wonder and awe. She’d get used to them, surely, on Dragonstone especially. She’d scold Maegor for teasing her for it, as her fears were within reason. Children regarded the dragons with awe because they did not know the terror they could bring. Rowan, like the good pupil she was, did know.

“I only jest Rowan, do not worry.” she offered a sympathetic smile.

The sun was gentle on their faces as they sat on the field of grass, the warmth of spring finally here. It found Maegor laying down, with his eyes closed, his encounter with his father in the morning still weighing heavy on his mind. It found Rowan carefully making a flower crown, trying to find the right words to ease her friend’s obvious pain that he was trying to pass off like it was nothing. Like always.

“You’re doing it again.” he stated, without opening his eyes.

“Hm? What?” she asked, averting her attention from the flowers in her hands to Maegor’s face.

“Staring off, trying to find a solution to a problem you didn’t create.” he stated again, as if it was so obvious he didn’t even have to open his eyes.

Rowan sighed lightly. Maegor knew her too well, it seemed.

“It’s not like that. I just hate how he makes such a show of it all. You’re his son too.” she admitted, furrowing her brows at the thought.

“I know.” he sighed. “I wish he would remember that as well.”

A moment of silence passed before Maegor sat up, crossing his legs.

“It was humiliating. His hand asked if I were to still follow Aenys in succession when he had children, and he just avoided the question. In front of the whole council! And then kept going on and on about taking Aenys with him everywhere to prepare him for the throne. How much more obvious does he have to make it?” he vented, pulling on loose strands of grass.

Her heart broke hearing the hurt in his voice. She reached for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“He’s an idiot not to see how capable you are. Everyone knows.” she said seriously while looking in his violet eyes.

“That’s treason, you know. Talking like that of your King?” his tone was serious, but a small smile was creeping on his lips.

“Weren’t you just making fun of me for sticking to the rules so much?” she asked teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

To that, Maegor let out a chuckle.

“I suppose so.”

Another moment of silence passed, something weighing heavy on Rowan’s mind.

“I don’t want you to be King.” she finally confessed, her eyes fixed on the flowers in her hands.

“What?” he asked, genuine surprise in his voice, as he dropped the strand of grass he was playing with.

“Kings never seem to be happy, not truly. Not the competent ones at least. And all I want is for you to be happy.” Rowan’s voice was soft as she spoke.

“And what if being King is what makes me happy?” he felt his heart flutter.

“Is that truly what would make you happy? Would it fill you with joy?” she asked, finally meeting his eyes, and for a moment, time felt like it stopped.

“Yes. I’d be the happiest on the throne, continuing my parents’ and my house’s legacy.” he said after a small pause, his voice serious once more.

Rowan nodded, her green eyes searching his for something. She then placed the flower crown carefully on his head. Had it been anyone else, he would’ve never accepted it, but it wasn’t anyone else. It was Rowan.

“If that’s what would make you happy, then I shall be your biggest advocate.” she said softly, with a smile. “I promise.”

He looked at her, wondering when he started feeling this way. Has it always been like this? Had her words and gentle smiles always made his heart beat this fast? He’d known her a year, and yet it felt like he’d known her forever. He felt his face get warm.

“…Thank you.”

taglist: @heartstalked @stupidocupido

[here-to-read-and-write]

Hobbit x reader?

Let's do this!! (⁠┛⁠✧⁠Д⁠✧⁠)⁠)⁠┛⁠彡⁠┻⁠━

Sorry it short.

Warning: my writing, grammar mistakes. Not proofreader yet!

You just run from a bunch of trolls who almost had cut you in half, just because you sister was feeling bored and wanted action, yet you didn't scold her, you didn't even talk to her.

You sat a little for away from the company, you felt ashamed of what your sister did, even when they reassured you that it wasn't your fault, but as you notice their fatigue and few cuts, you couldn't help but feel more guilty. That's why you decided to hunt and prepare the best dinner ever for them with whatever the nature provided you tonight.

You didn't eat with them, you more than satisfied with seen them happy eating warm food, soon your happiness was cut short when your sister harshly grabbed your arm.

No one noticed except Thorin, who has been keeping an eye on you since the beginning of the quest, at first it was from worry. You were a stranger to him just like the Hobbit, but after some weeks of showing your worth and your good natured he had start fallen for you trusting you it was slow but worth it, when he would send you a nod of approval or small smiles that you never noticed.

He followed you away from his people, hiding from your sight.

"What are you?" You sister asked breathing heavily, and you just titled your head in confusion."WHAT ARE YOU?" She screamed making you flinch away.

She didn't even notice, and even if she did she didn't care her anger was overpowering her other emotions and rational thoughts.

"I saw the way the elven sword shown when you stabbed the troll who attacked the Hobbit...again What are you?" Her beautiful blue eleven eyes were now as hard as a mountain, there wasn't even a pinch of kindness in them.

"I don't understand" You played the dumb card, feeling nervous at your sister sudden change of character.

"Don't play dumb" She snatch the sword out of your side before she pointed at you. The sword shown in her hand, with a blue light that matched her eyes.

Thorin was prepared to attack once he saw your sister holding your sword against, but before he could do that, a stranger creature that you like a jellyfish (you had shown him once one day when you were on watch duty and he couldn't sleep), it sat on his sword distracting him from attacking, until you spoke.

"I'm a winged creature" You calmly explained as hold your hand up in surrender.

"What?" The betrayal on your sister face broke your heart into small peace. "I'm sorry" you felt like crying, you wanted to cry.

"but you told me that they didn't...that I.." His let go of the sword letting fall on the ground as she hid her face in her hands as she took steps back.

" I had to I'm sorry" You lower your head as you tried to hid your tears too. She had every right to be angry at you in the same time she didn't.

"Why?...WHY?" She screamed grabbing both of your arms with suh force you could feel your bones almost breaking.

"Because I had to" You softly explained, closing your eyes so you don't have to look in her eyes, and your action seem to have angered her because the next your knew, you were in the floor your left cheek warm from the sudden brutal contact of her hand on your cheek.

"Don't lie to me!" She screamed harshly making stand before she pushed making hit your head with the nearest rock.

Before she could anything again, the place around turned black as if someone turned te light off, it scared the three of you, instantly a deer as white as snow with two big hornes decorated, appeared catching all of your breath away.

He looked at you and he nodded, before disappearing into the darkness that immediately left with him. For a minute you three didn't move, trying to understand what was going on.

Turning to your sister you stood up, feeling a little confident. If the deer was what you thought it could be, than it was time to tell the truth.

"I'm a winged person not because I want to, but because I have to" You started before you hiss from the pain and headache that was forming in your head, which earned you a scoff from you sister, and Thorin attention was full on you, as he trie dto ignore his anger against your sister.

"If I hadn't done it, you would have suffered...I couldn't do that to you" You were still looking at he floor, trying to ignore the black spot.

"Why because I would have been more powerful than... because Thorin and the others would have loved more than you" She tried to push you as she pointed forcefully on your chest with her her finger but you didn't move this time.

"Because they would have taken you away" She raised an eyebrow as she walked back to the sword grabbing it, ready to leave.

"Taken by who"She scoffed again." By the winged people" you responded your voice growing emotionless by the second.

" and what will they have done! Make a queen" She turn again your way the fire in her eyes never Fadden, and to her suprise she was meet with the same fire this time in your eyes but unlike hers, yours was cold sending shivers down her spine.

"They would have taken and breeded, used you like a fucking animal" You took slow step towards her, which made her only scared, and the fact that you were literally glowing didn't help.

She soon shielded her eyes with her hand, and didn't opened them until all the light disappeared making place to a new you.

Her and Thorin jaw dropped as they saw you standing there, with two immense wings behind you(They were so long, half of them was on the ground touching dirt). There were decorated with the gems and diamond that only brought the color of your wings more, making them shine like a Star.

In the contrary of your eyes. They didn't have any pupils, and the irises was just holding the whole universe/space with stars shining everywhere. You were like an angry angel standing in front of them.

Your sister didn't even notice when she started to kneel, neither did Thorin. Both were captive of your beauty and in that moment nothing was important.

"I knew you will have been too proud too cocky to care about the warning so I choose it when I saw it because I knew you weren't worth it.... I had to protect you from yourself" Even your voice changed, it more of deep feminist voice, that made Thorin spine shiver in pleasure, as he turn turn red from how sexy your voice, it was going directly down between his leg. He swear he could listen to you talk everyday and ever second without stop.

Even your sister was now agreeing with you. You sigh turning back to your human form, before taking her hand helping her stand.

"I'm sorry for not telling you...I knew you would react like that I really sorry" you sister nodded, she was on autopilot."Do you forgive me?" She nodded again not even registering what said. "Thank you" You squeezed her happy to be on good terms with. "Come on, we need to go back before anyone notice our absence!" She let you guide hand in hand, with jaw trailing behind her.

Thorin one the other hand was left behind, his hand on his mouth as his brain played your image with those immense wings on your back, he had so many questions he needed to ask but first he needed to take care of his little problem.

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

hey hey hey- Werewolf Pepa with Hunter Felix- Go ahead, go crazy, I know you want to-

OKAY THIS BITCH- we brainstormed this idea last night and i went FERAL lets GO????

"Bruno, it's your turn tonight."

"Ugh, we'll be hungry AGAIN."

Pepa grumbled. Ever since they were little pups, Bruno has never been a provider for the family. Sure, he could hear and see better than any of them combined, but what good is seeing if you take no action? Her mother glared at her as she sat at the table, scratching at the wood.

"Are you questioning my decision, Pepa?"

Pepa knew better than to cross her mother. Not only BECAUSE she was her mother, but as the leader of their pack, she was not meant to be questioned. Pepa scoffed, refusing to look at her glare.

"No, I'm questioning Bruno. The last time he hunted, he brought home a rabbit. ONE. I pick my teeth with rabbits! He should be called a werecat because he's such a PUSSY."

"Pepa!"

Cried her sister. The whole time, Señorita perfecta Julieta was cutting up the meat from their last hunt. Sure, they had normal food, but when the full moon rises, like it will in two days from now, only fresh, still pulsing meat sated them. Abuela patted her son's head upon seeing his pout. Most animals kick out the runt of the litter. Not her. If anything, she coddled him more BECAUSE he was so much smaller than everyone else.

"Your brother does his part, just like everyone else. Julieta can't go hunting, she needs to continue rationing what we have left."

"Then let ME go! You haven't let me hunt in so long, I feel like I have hay fever!"

"No. I know you. You will go into town and flirt with the men to bring home. It is too risky."

Pepa stood up from her seat, enraged. Did she like killing people? No. But humans tended to be so fatty and they lasted them MUCH longer than a hog or a deer.

"It gets meat on this table, doesn't it?! And I haven't been caught yet!"

Julieta leaned in a bit to her mother, slightly wincing.

"The lard from a real fat human could sate us for quite some time, mother. Not to mention it'd relax Pepa a bit."

Abuela sighed, before eventually relenting. So fucking easy for Julieta, she couldn't believe it.

"Fine. You may have Bruno's turn. You know the rules."

"Yeah yeah, don't get caught, check both sides of the road, be back before moondown-okay bye!"

She didn't let her mother finish her final thoughts before she went out the door. She peered down their giant hill, at the town below. They were so cut off from everyone else, only Abuela was really allowed down there for supplies. Time to get to hunting.

-----------------------

Ah the taste of failure. She was familiar with it. She stopped by a bar, hoping her looks would be enough to bring home a man. Unfortunately, it was slim pickings. Anything that flirted with her looked so thin, it'd make Bruno's catch look good. Everyone else was too drunk to get her flirts, much less stand up. She was happy to get a few drinks in at least, but she decided she should probably go.

That was when he walked in.

A big, thick looking man. Dressed in all black, he seemed to blend into the night. He had such a heavy gait as he walked in, the wood creaking under his steps, only stopping when he sat down, just a seat away from her.

"Beer, please."

His voice was...nice. Really nice. His stupid hat was covering what she could only assume was a tasty looking face. He pulled what appeared to be a notebook from his jacket, starting to scribble in it. She caught a glimpse of his his eye under his hat. Those rich brown orbs seemed to check her out, just for a second, before they looked at the beer he was just handed. She had his attention. Time to make a move. She slid over to him, casually as she could, before speaking.

"Hope you don't mind I sit here. You looked lonely, pobrecito."

He took a swig of his beer, before finally lifting his gaze up to her, letting her see his face. Oh. Oh he was handsome. A nice nose, facial hair that was just right for his sort of face, and a grin that hit her like a silver bullet.

"Such a nice lady you are, worrying about this poor stranger. I don't mind at all, Señorita."

"It's Pepa, actually."

"Félix. So nice to meet you, Pepa."

She offered him her hand, and his big, gloved hand carefully held onto it, bringing it to his lips, and kissing the back of it. Such a gentleman. A real handsome one to boot. She chuckled, taking the opportunity to snatch his hat, and put it on her own head. He looked so much more handsome without it.

"So, what is this poor stranger up to in a place like this?"

"Work related. Apparently this town has a bit of a pest control problem, that's where I come in."

"What? Gophers? I've seen plenty of those around, pesky bastards."

He chuckled at that, clearly amused.

"Something...bigger. But I don't want to talk about work. You're much more interesting. You from around here?"

Pepa nodded, raising her glass to have her drink replaced. Hey, she hardly got into town, why not have her fill?

"I am. I live a bit out of the way from here, but essentially I'm a part of the town. You aren't though, I can smell it."

He looked perplexed, and she realized she fucked up with her words. Thankfully, he seemed more amused than anything.

"I SMELL? Bad, or?"

"Oh no no no. Just...different. Maybe it's because I've already had a few,"

She accepted her hurricane. She WANTED a bushwacker or a mudslide, but hey, take what you can get.

"But let me ask. You got a ring under those gloves?"

He took off his gloves, revealing big, beautiful hands. Hands that had clearly done labor, but still looked so damn soft, she could sleep on them.

"Nope, clean. Could never find the right woman. Mi mami hates it, always trying to set me up with her friend's daughters. And once, her actual seventy five year old friend. Listen, I'm not into old women like that, but being called 'puddin' was flattering."

That made her snort, and something in his eyes told her that's exactly what he wanted. Tricky bastard. She liked him.

"Eh, I could never get married either. Could never find a man that could handle me."

Félix seemed to notice some music picking up in the background, and he got up from his seat, holding out a hand to her.

"Would you be willing to let me try?"

She shouldn't. She WANTED to, she LOVED to dance, especially with confident men like him. But she was tipsy, and he was cute. Unfortunately, common sense won, and she took a hold of his hand. It was so much bigger than hers, not to mention SO much softer than she thought they'd be.

"Yes. You may try."

He walked her to the dance floor, and immediately took a hold of her other hand, holding their bodies together. He was shorter than her, but with how warm his body was, she didn't mind it. He was going to gush when they tore into him. She took the lead, and to her surprise, he let her. He followed her as if he was her shadow, somehow knowing exactly when to move, knowing when to spin her. He laughed as he continued to match her steps, but somehow gave her the limelight.

"Damn mami, look at you GO! Is all that just for me?"

"Ha, you WISH, hombrecito!"

The song finished, just in time for Félix to give her another twirl, and yank her towards him. Hand on her lower back, just above her ass. All while he still held her hand, all while he still pressed his big, firm body against her own. Their eyes met, and for a moment, they were silent. The bar was still empty, but that didn't matter, she still felt her nerves bubbling inside of her. She could smell the nerves on him too, the sound of his heart pounding, his blood rushing. It was intoxicating. He gave a soft chuckle, just coming out with it.

"At the risk of being too much, it's a bit too late for a lady like you to be out at night. There's an inn right across the street, and I DO get lonely."

"Be blunt, I don't have time for riddles."

"Alright. I want to buy us a room. And I really, REALLY want to fuck the woman I'm holding onto right now. I want to break the headboard, and I want to make those pretty legs buckle for me."

Oh that voice. That tone. She should say no. Her mother would definitely tell her no. She SHOULD drag him up to her place for dinner. But she didn't want to share. Not with this new hunger she's experiencing.

"Then save my legs the effort. Carry me there."

She was practically giddy as he swooped her up bridal style. She clung onto him, kissing the side of his face, and muttering words dirty enough to make Satan blush. It made getting the room difficult, it made walking to their room difficult, but when he tossed her onto the bed, slamming the door shut with his foot, she didn't regret it. Not when he he took off his jacket and his shirt. Oh he was bigger than she thought. He had a bit of a gut, but he wasn’t unfit by any means. A mane of hair trickled from his perfect chest, down his gut, to the underwear. She knew it got even better downsouth, she just knew it. He put one hand on the headboard, while his other lifted her chin up for him.

"You should know, I'm not gentle."

"If you treated me gently, I'd fucking kill you."

"You're terrifying, anyone ever told you that?"

She let a hand run down his big, perfect body, reaching inside his pants. So much pubic hair, it suited that THICK cock of his. His face looked SO precious when he was touched. She wanted more. Wanted to see every single face her new toy could make.

"I've been called a lot of things. And right now, I'm your FUCKING mami."

She couldn't take it anymore. She leapt at him, and proceeded to consume him. Every. Single. Inch of him.

And he was the tastiest meal she's ever had.

-------------------

She grumbled a bit as the weight of him standing woke her up. She watched him as put his pants back on, just now realizing what had happened last night. The taste of his cum still hung heavy in her mouth, and it was just as tasty as blood could be.

"Oh. Leaving already, hombre?"

"You're awake? Dammit. I was going to get us some breakfast. Usually I'm a hit it and quit it man, but...I like you, Pepa."

She chuckled as he leaned down to kiss her lips a dew times, much to her delight. She let her nails dance up his chest, ever so slowly.

"Hmmm...I AM hungry. You're off the menu?"

"Once I get us some food, I'll be right back on it ~"

He chuckled as he went to the bathroom, and she sat up, taking a look around. Clothes all over the floor, messy sheets, condom in the trash. Jeez, she hardly remembered last night. She just knew right now, she felt really, REALLY good. Even with all the hickies he left. Funny, the prey biting HER for once-

"Holy SHIT! Did you see what you did to my back?!"

She kept her breasts covered with her blanket upon him yelling, mainly as a panic response. She looked into the bathroom, and he had his back towards her, revealing HUGE scratch marks all over his poor skin. Ones her human form didn't make. Within a week of the upcoming full moon, werewolves tended to have these random spurts of energy, causing very temporary transformations. It happened last night it seemed, but they both DID drink a bit, so he probably didn't remember.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Are you hurt?"

"No no, I'm not mad or hurt or anything- I'm just saying! You did a number on me! You are a FIERY woman!"

She chuckled as he disappeared into the bathroom. He was so dumb. Head over heels for her already. But, she had a feeling she was no better. She looked around the bed, before grabbing his jacket. She brought it to her face, and sniffed. Oh, that smelled incredible. So rich and smooth, she swore she was going to take it home and rut against it like a bitch in heat. But something smelled...off. Something past his scent. She thought it was nothing, especially given how he came back out to grab it.

"Thank you. Now, what are we thinking for breakfast? Doughnuts?"

"YES. Chocolate ones. I LOVE chocolate!"

"Don't I know it~"

He grinned. He was about to put it on, when something fell from his pocket. A gun. She scooted away from it upon instinct.

"Why do you have a gun?!"

"Easy, easy! This is for my job!"

He reached for the gun off the floor, and sat at the edge of thr bed. She glared at him, smacking his shoulder in fury.

"You said you dealt with pests! What pests do you deal with THAT?!"

He sighed, before opening the barrel of the handgun, to show her the ammunition. Silver bullets. Her heart stopped in her chest, and she couldn't breathe. He knew that look on her face, and shrugged.

"I know, I know. Seems crazy. But it pays well, and I'm good at it. There was four different werewolf sightings here, so they called me. I was going to scope out the local scene last night, but then I met you."

Her hands felt clammy as he pulled out his journal, handing it to her. It was a horror story. Pictures of dead bodies littered his notebook, little tuffs of fur taped to the pages, and his handwriting littered the paper.

"H...how many h-have you killed?"

"Ninety-six. These last four are gonna be my hundred, so I'm taking it a bit personal. It's easy once you get their behavior. You just get them right where you want them,"

She watched as he aimed the gun into nothingness, pretending to fire it.

"Then shoot. I'm pretty good, I get the heart every time."

She turned the next page, and it got even worse. Pictures of them. They were blurry, clearly taken by some bystander. But it was them. Bruno, the runt of the litter, dark in fur and scraggly, his green eyes were a blurr. Julieta, stealthy, blue eyed, and black fur, she was amazed they got her, given that she was reclused and careful as she was. They even got her mother, big, gray, eyes blood red and looking like a hound straight out of hell. Then there was herself. Orange fur, her lithe (yet a bit bow legged) body was somehow caught on camera despite her speed, with her yellow eyes shining like a beacon.

"Hey hey, easy. Dont worry, ill protect you from the big scary monsters."

He held onto her face, and kissed her cheek. She didn’t have the heart to tell this big, beautiful man, that the monster in her eyes, was currently kissing her.

[alexmercer2424]

Hi I saw that requests were open and I was wondering if you could possibly do alastor and sister headcanons like maybe the sister kind of just overworked herself cuz she she just wanted the best life for him even though she probably was like getting sick constantly and she eventually dies and they possibly meet in hell

Please only platonic and only if you have time to do this

Alastor’s Reuniting w/ His Sister in Hell

When you and Alastor were kids it always seemed like he was getting himself into trouble

Sure he had all the girls crushing on him, but those terrible little boys were always so jealous and would often bully him

Al never said it bothered him, would just laugh and say they’ll get what they deserved

And you may not have understood what that meant exactly

But you still felt bad for your brother, it’s not like you two had the best home life and now his school life wasn’t the greatest either

And that was besides the fact you and him were mixed (Im following the idea he’s Creole and has a light brown skin tone)

You didn’t exactly partake in school, you did your best, but most your time was focusing on helping provide for your brother rather than studying

Your mom tried but it wasn’t easy due to her heritage and your father was next to useless if he was even around the guy was drunk more often than not it seemed when he was around

And things didn’t get better as the two of you grew older

Teen years were met with Alastor talking back to your father, the two of you trying to protect your mother, which resulted in him getting in altercations with your father

He got into more than enough altercations with the neighborhood boys due to the fact the ladies seemed to be drawn to him rather than them

And to your knowledge your brother didn’t have any interest in these women

Alastor was more involved in music, specifically radio, and sometimes hunting

He somehow managed to get a job in radio, how you’re not exactly sure

Sure he was a charismatic guy but he was also standoffish

You were just glad he started to find his way

Everyday for you felt like a battle to get out of bed, your body seeming to age as rapidly as your mind had to growing up

When he moved out he offered to take you with him but you stayed home with your mother, her health starting to fail her as well

By now you don’t know what happened to your father, he left just to never come back and Alastor seemed to care less than ever

As if they guy never existed

So you couldn’t bear the thought of your mother being all alone in her time of need

It wasn’t until one day when there was a knock on your door did everything change

A man stood at the door, a man you didn’t know but he wore a police uniform

You assumed it was going to be random trouble, neighbors calling about this or that just to complain and unsettle your family

What you didn’t expect was for the officer to tell you Alastor had died in a hunting accident

And what happened next you really don’t know

The next thing you remember is waking up in a hellish world where people looked like demons and animals looked like spawns of satan

You faired no better, you looked like some sort of horse or something, somehow still human, it was all just a mess (see metaphor workhorse)

You knew no one here, everyone seemed rude, and this definitely wasn’t the place that had girls wearing skirts to their ankles and men in anything but slacks and a shirt

It took weeks… months…

You felt even more loss than when you were alive and the isolation of everything was getting to you

It wasn’t until you were at work one day, managing to find some sort of work to keep from wandering, did things change once again

Getting yelled at your boss for not cooking the order right, even tho he wrote it down wrong and instead blamed you

Everything was too much and you just wanted to die again but it seems the Executioners have no interest in you so here you were… stuck for eternity

But as your boss yelled at you you heard a family voice

At first you thought it was your imagination until you saw the swagger, the confidence

There Alastor stood, smile larger than anything you’ve ever seen as he stared down your boss

And there Alastor grew in size, limbs becoming lanky and long, antlers spouting from the top of his head, teeth managing to become sharper as that smile only grew

Nothing happened besides your boss apologizing to you before running to the back room

You stood shocked, not only equally as scared but as well surprised at what was in front of you

Your brother, someone you thought you would never see again, stood in front of you

And though he looked different, even small and more human looking than whatever you just saw, he was still as charismatic yet questionable as ever

“Well dear sister, never thought I’d see you here!” He laughed “only the scum of the earth end up in a place like this!”

You had no idea what he meant, you knew this was hell, came to terms with it, but if only he knew what you did to help the two of you survive

His shock was a reassurance of his lack of knowledge

“No matter! You mustn’t stay in a place like this, not worth your time. Come with me and I’ll make sure you never work a day in your life! Not saying you didn’t do enough of that already when we were living”

He only continued to laugh, as if everything the two of you had become was a joke

You may have not understood, and may have feared the change you sensed in Alastor

But even the slightest familiar face in a place like this was better than anything

[rhenysz]

Your dead eyes

Prologue

Summary: Lifeless eyes were what haunted you all your life, many people say that death was lurking around your eyes, maybe it's true. Maybe you just see things that other people don't.

Pairing: Azriel x Archeron!reader fem.

A/n: I'm very excited, I had this idea in my head for a year and it's finally going in the right direction. English is NOT my native language so I asked an AI for a little help, please if you see something wrong let me know! I'm also very insecure about this, I hope you can read it. Good reading.

*I kept switching between Y/n and You, I'm confused about what to use.*

Word count : 2.1k

Warnings: Nothing yet

Next

The cold wind cut through the entire house; the windows, made of old and worn wood, could no longer contain the icy air. Each breath was held to alleviate the hunger sensation that coated your stomach.

Stay strong. That was all that echoed in your troubled mind as your dull eyes aimlessly wandered through the house. Yoir hands were clasped together, trying to gather as much warmth as possible near the fireplace where Nestha had seated her on a rickety chair with numbered days.

Your sister stood by yor side, posture resembling that of a true queen, a face sculpted in marble, pure disgust in her eyes for the man seated next to her. While Nesta displayed her discontent with their father, you preferred to pretend that his existence was null.

"Feyre." Elain's soft, hushed voice made her turn her head towards the sharp creak of the door. There was Feyre, the youngest of the three but older than you. "Where did you get this?" Hunger was so intense that Elain didn't even inquire about the blood covering her sister or the apparent fatigue on her face. Only pure interest.

"Where do you think I got it?" Her sharp words in her hoarse voice did nothing to diminish Elain's widened eyes, directed at the deer carcass in her arms.

"Will it take long for you to clean it?"Not her not Nestha, and certainly not Y/n – only Feyre. Taking a deep breath, you stood up, feeling for the chair and taking slow steps toward Feyre, but stopped upon hearing her father's rough and worn voice.

"Feyre, how lucky you were today to bring us such a feast." Nesta by her side only chuckled maliciously, as she did at any word that came out of the man's mouth. Pure scorn.

You extended your hands to find the worn table where Feyre had placed the deer. Feyre, your sweet Fey, straightened her back while casting a brief glance at Nesta and then focused her young and tired eyes on you.

"Hungry?" with pale and cracked lips, Feyre asked, a hint of a smile appearing. Your lifeless eyes sparkled for a second, your dry lips parting in a half-smile.

"And when am I not?" It should have sounded like a joke, but it wasn't. It was the reality. There were nights when you lay next to Feyre, praying to anyone who would listen, begging that tomorrow would be another day they'd go to sleep with full or at least not starving stomachs.

Feyre laughed humorlessly at the miserable situation they found themselves in; her little sister didn't deserve to live with the uncertainty of tomorrow – whether they would go hungry or cold.

Pressing your lips together, you reached out to Feyre, who quickly grabbed your hands, bringing them to her face. Your warm and gentle hands traced the contour of her lips, feeling the cracks, moving to her forehead, running her thumbs there and applying gentle pressure to her temples. Feyre nestled her face in your warm hands and let out a relieved sigh; Y/n had magical hands.

"Come on, Feyre, you need to rest." You was concerned for your older sister. Even though you couldn't help Feyre with hunting, you tried to provide relief in other ways. Silly as it may be, at the end of the day, the moment Feyre looked forward to the most was when Y/n would gift her with your those sweet hands – be it on her shoulders, back, or neck. Anything was wonderful for her tense muscles.

Feyre let out a long sigh she didn't know she was holding and, with tenderness, kissed the palms of your hands to move them away from your face, already missing your sister's touch. "Later, we need to eat." Feyre looked around and frowned. "Where's the firewood?".

You mumbled in discontent, letting your arms fall to your sides. You turned your head shyly in another direction because, even without seeing, you could feel Feyre's questioning eyes. "I tried to make her chop wood, but…"

Nesta, who was cleaning her nails, stopped and looked at both of them."I hate chopping wood. I always end up with splinters."

You shrugged with your older sister's voice. Nesta always missed the opportunity to stay silent. "Besides, Feyre, you're much better at it than I am."

Feyre gritted her teeth, making an unpleasant noise that assaulted your ears. Desperate to end the tension, you reached for Feyre's tattered clothes and pulled like a child trying to get their mother's attention."Tomorrow morning, I'll do it myself, Fey." You couldn't. It was easier for you to cut off your fingers than to hit the wood accurately, and both Feyre and Nesta knew that.

"No."

The voices of your older sisters were firm in denying you. Closing your eyes, you sighed. It has always been like that. Every time you offered to help with something around the house, you were turned down and scolded. You may be blind, but you were not defenseless, even though chopping wood may not be your strong suit.

"I'll chop, and you stay here." safe,Nesta wanted to continue, but the word got stuck in her throat, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. Since when did this cabin guarantee any safety?

Dinner was silent, only the noise of utensils and chewing, occasionally interrupted by Elain trying to start a conversation about how cold it was that morning or how nice it would be to have a new blanket to ward off the cold winds.

When dinner was over, Feyre delicately took your arm and led her to the room they shared, seating her on the bed while changing her ragged clothes for potentially cleaner ones.

"How is my drawer?" With your head tilted, your voice cut through the silence with the question. When it was just the two of them alone, it was easier; there were no constant quarrels between Feyre and Nesta, and, as cruel as it may be, there was no Elain. It was just the two of them in their little happy world.Feyre threw herself on the bed next to you, releasing the air from her lungs, and turned her face to admire her sister's gentle profile.

"Missing ink to finish." Feyre then looked at the drawer and described it with the utmost care so that her sister could visualize it. "There are two spirals in white, one descending and one ascending on opposite sides, looking like smoke perhaps. Also, there are two stars on each side with some smaller ones around."

The younger one hummed in agreement and opened the blanket to lie down, making room for Feyre to lie down too. Facing each others you felt safe, the love they had for each other creating a warm and cozy atmosphere even with the wind making the roof tiles roar.Running your tongue over your lips and trembling your eyes, you timidly asked, "And me? How am I?"

Opening a wide smile, Feyre pulled you into her arms and showered your head with several joyous kisses, eliciting laughter from the younger one. "You look wonderful, Y/n."

In the best of words, at least for Feyre, Y/n was gentle, not a naive and immature gentleness, but a softness that made her seem wise and older. Someone she could whisper her secrets to, tell jokes in her ear that were often so bad they made them laugh until their stomachs hurt, and then warm up in the cozy embrace of her little sister.

"Turn around." Y/n lightly pushed Feyre's shoulder, indicating she should let her go. Groaning, Feyre accepted defeat and did as her sister requested. Massage time.Sitting on the bed, your hands pressed on Feyre's shoulders, easing the tense muscles.

Feyre murmured, "Oh my..." You chuckled quietly, proud to offer your sister a bit of relief. Then, still somewhat distracted, Feyre muttered again, "I killed a wolf."

Your hand recoiled, and her dull eyes widened.

"You what?"

The next morning, Feyre and the other sisters had already left for the village with the wolf's leather to sell, while you stayed home with your father.

"How about gloves?" Feyre asked, singing with bright eyes, like a little puppy.

"No. I want nothing for myself. Go and buy yourself something and please," You exhaled and squeezed between your eyes, "don't let Elain sway you with her complaints."

Feyre's shoulders slumped in defeat, and she nodded, but soon verbalized her response for you to understand."Alright... no gloves then."

The day passed painfully slowly with no one to entertain her. Your father was not the most suitable for such a task and seemed content to sit by the fireplace with the wood Nesta had chopped, after much fuss.Despite all her strong personality, Nesta was great for you, in her own way, but she was a great older sister for you.

The day passed slowly . Your sisters returned in the early evening, and despite all of Y/n protests and grumbles, Feyre gifted her with a small object.

"A hairpin?" You asked with a faltering voice. "Fey..." a pout formed on your lips, and your eyebrows furrowed.

"It was cheap! And I couldn't resist; it was calling to me and saying so enchantingly," Feyre held her sister's face and continued with a laugh, "take me, take me, I would look beautiful in your sister's hair. Convincing, isn't it?"

"Not at all."

Feyre threw your head back and laughed."Well, I thought so. Now stay still for me."

Wrinkling her nose at the veiled order, you obeyed your sister. You disjointed thoughts ceased as you felt Feyre's fingers pulling a strand of your hair and securing it with the hairpin. "A little snowflake lost in your golden curls."

The rest of the afternoon went well, or well enough for another normal day. Y/n spent most of the time with Nesta, listening to your older sister murmur the same story from her old and worn-out book for the umpteenth time.

At dinner, Feyre joined you at the table, enjoying her warm presence and casual conversations.

A deafening roar cut through the conversations, and the sound of the door being brutally ripped off its hinges made your bones tremble along with the walls of the house. Fear flooded you in a petrifying way, turning you legs into jelly.

"ASSASSINS!"

The creature's voice dripped with cruelty and rage. Slim hands grabbed your shoulders and pushed your body toward the wall opposite the voice. Elain crouched with you, holding you in her chest, pressing your ears protectively to muffle the voices.

Being blind was never something you resented; there was no reason to lament something nature decided before was born. But in that moment, in that peculiar situation you found herself in, all you wanted to do was see. See who was directing such anger at your sister, see Feyre's bravery confronting something immensely more powerful than her, and see the exact moment your other half was taken away from you.

You shouted for your sister, shouted until yor voice became hoarse and worn out, shouted until you succumbed to exhaustion, and when you had no more strength, you lamented being the only one who remembered your sister.

Time was relative with Feyre's absence. Some days passed quickly with a good pastime, while others dragged painfully. There were also days when neither happened, and those were the worst.

On those days, you could hear Elain babbling throughout the house about her engagement, Nesta commanding the house – no longer falling apart – like a general, and, worst of all, you could hear the damn noise of that fancy cane you got from your older sister.

"I don't need this." Nesta frowned at the denial, considering it childish.

"Others will ask, and I don't want anyone looking at us like we're animals because you're clinging to the walls to walk," though her words were cruel, Nesta stood firm in her point.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, you fists clenched the white silk dress that adorned your body, baring your teeth like an animal, you snarled, "I'll use it outside. Inside, I refuse."

It didn't happen. You was indirectly forced to use that piece of wood inside the house as well. The servants whispered malice when they saw you hitting the new furniture; the number of bruises you gained while trying to memorize the house left you worse than a bruised tomato, and you didn't want others to think you suffered abuse from your's sisters.

In addition to the obvious discontent with the cane, you also hated the balls; that's where most comments about her condition happened. It was so funny and miserable how men and women made remarks about your blindness.

A compliment that quickly came with a false pity for you, and you unfortunate disability – "It's truly a shame such a beautiful face is wasted."

Hypocrites.

You would bet a finger that those who judged you were as horrible as the monsters Feyre invented for you.

Feyre...

[valtharen]

Snow drifted through the air, the light flakes almost suspended in the gentle breeze. Amidst a grove of sap covered pines stood a tall form, an Elezen man enveloped in fur-lined armor. Platinum blond locks played in the light stream of air, obscuring the man’s face more than the armored plate already had.

Alone in the woods, Valtharen lifted a hand to remove the armor covering his face. His glacial gaze swept around the surrounding woods before lifting a hand to his lips and loosing a loud high-pitched whistle which echoed off the treetops. All he could do now was wait and hope his call did not go unheard.

“You take a risk, boy,” a low growl cut through the quiet of the snow.

Valtharen turned on his heels, grabbing for his lance as he did. He was met by an older Elezen, hair once a lustrous crimson now dull and streaked with gray. Piercing green eyes settled on the younger man, cold as the frost clinging to the needles of the trees surrounding them. A scar rode his dour expression from eye to lip, hinting at a tale of combat. His blade was already drawn, shield at the ready. The only thing that prevented him from running the younger Elezen through was his honor.

“You take one yourself, father,” Valtharen replied. “Conversing with a heretic,” he said bitterly.

“You chose this path,” Thalosius replied, jaw setting as he leveled his gaze on his son.

“I did not choose to be labeled a heretic,” the younger man snapped. “I did not choose to be condemned by my brothers and sisters. I did not choose to be hunted like a damned dog!” His voice boomed against the settling snow.

“You chose this path when you felt sympathy towards the Dravanians,” Thalosius said evenly. “I did not raise you this way,” his voice grew pleading. “Please… come back. We can fix this.”

Valtharen laughed bitterly. “No. I do not believe we can. Not when Witchdrop is on the table. Not when you have sent people to attack my friends.” He shook his head slowly, feeling his gut twist. “Not when you try to burn down my life and those I care about.”

“You cannot keep this up,” Thalosius frowned. “You cannot keep running and endangering those around you.”

“They are only endangered because of you!” Valtharen replied, jutting a finger towards Thalosius. “You could have just let me go!”

“Let you go? To what end? You are a knight of the Tempest Riders. You do not belong amongst mercenaries and drunkards,” the older Elezen replied. “You are better than that.”

“Am I?” Valtharen replied, brows knitting. “These people have become family to me - family that you never provided.”

Thalosius flinched at that, taking a step forward to thrust his shield towards Valtharen. Not having expected his father to react in such a way, Valtharen stumbled back as the cold metal connected with his armor. 

“You ungrateful wretch!” he snarled. “You spoiled little bastard! Everything I did was for you! That house, the Order… your damned title! What more could you want?”

“Freedom,” Valtharen responded softly, shaking his head. “That is all I ever wanted; the freedom to choose.”

Thalosius stared at Valtharen, shaking his head. “You always have a choice. And now, you can choose to come back with me.”

“I choose trial by combat,” Valtharen replied evenly, his gaze leveled on his father’s. The younger Elezen had made up his mind and there would be no talking. He had enough. The time to end this all had come. “If I win, I will have proved my innocence and you will leave me be. If I lose?” he gave a shrug. “I will find freedom in death.”

Thalosius’ jaw worked, his teeth grinding as he considered his son’s words. “You had best settle your affairs, then. Say your goodbyes and the like.” The older man’s gaze fell briefly towards the snow underfoot. “Say something to your mother.”

“You say something,” Valtharen retorted. “You tell her that she will be childless because of you.”

The feel of steel slammed into the side of Valtharen’s head, knocking him to his knee. A hand lifted to feel a stream of warmth flowing from his temple where the shield had connected. A whirlwind took over the younger Elezen. Part of him couldn’t believe the cold distance his father had kept - the other remembered the years of training and punishment growing up. Valtharen balled his hand into a fist as he slowly rose to his feet.

Just then, Cirrus appeared overhead. Valtharen turned his gaze to the shadow overhead then back to where Thalosius was standing only to find himself alone. Lifting a hand, he rubbed at his face before turning towards the lanner. He had a duty to the large falcon. He would not let it be interrupted by the exchange.

[malereader-inserts]

See You Again

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries Pairing: Mikaelson Family & Brother!Reader Summary: Meet the family whilst hunting an idiot it’s the best first impression Word Count: 1,000

“He’s so fucking pissed.”

“Damon,” Caroline snapped her head to her friend, “What did you do?”

Damon chuckled nervously, he was a little bit on edge. The Mikaelsons were back permanently, after realising they wanted a somewhat quieter life, meaning New Orleans no longer provided the quiet life anymore. 

A lot of things had changed since they came back. Elena stayed with Damon, despite him still being a vampire, they were in talks about whether he turns back to a human or she turns into a vampire. Caroline and Klaus made their relationship as permanent as their life, realising that they were both undeniably in love with each other. Elijah and Hayley were slowly repairing their love.

Kol found a new friend to be with, too much of Bonnie’s dismay having it be her boyfriend, Enzo. Stefan and Rebekah were working things out, though it’s not turning well as Matt gravitates back to her. Freya and Finn likethe new adjustments to Mystic Falls, though Finn is still a little bit apprehensive about being back where he betrayed his family.

Hope has new sisters, after Caroline had given birth to her twins, she is very happy to have people her age she can be around. Alaric was just happy to see his kids thriving, even if it means extending it to the Mikaelsons, who have taken fondness towards him.

Everyone was happy, they were content.

“What did you do.”

“You know our favourite Mikaelson?”

Damon scanned the room of his friends, Bonnie and Caroline looked intrigued as much as they have their favoured brother of the Mikaelsons, there was always one that they loved the most - both romantically and platonically. Elena looked up from her book, her eyebrow raised as Stefan let out the biggest sigh. 

“Damon,” Alaric spoke, “What did you do to piss off a demon?”

“The Mikaelsons don’t even know he’s alive, and this how we’re gonna tell them?” Stefan exclaimed, “Are we supposed to go to their house and be like, ‘Hi guys sorry to interrupt family time, but your brother that you thought was dead is actually alive and Damon has pissed him off!’ Yeah, that sounds great, don’t you think?”

“What?” Heads turn to see Rebekah at the doorway with Matt next to her, “Tell me you’re lying.”

Caroline gave Stefan a look, before looking at Rebekah, “(Y/n), right?”

Rebekah looks like she was near tears before rushing home, Caroline went after her, knowing she could be a person to calm Klaus as Stefan dragged Damon by the ear.

“In all fairness, he’s temperamental.” 

“You idiot,” Caroline smacks him as the Mikaelsons were amused and yet confused with the information.

“How is he alive?” Elijah asked as Caroline shares a look with Damon and Stefan, it must be clear that Rebekah did not hear that part of the conversation. 

“Well-”

The front doors slammed open to see a dishevelled man, arm pinned against the door he had slammed opened. In great shock, the Mikaelsons stood there witnessing that it was their brother, very much alive. But, whilst they stood there doing nothing, a crossbow bolt shot through the room.

“Where the hell did you get that?” Caroline screamed at Damon.

Damon shrugged, “Stole it from Alaric before we left, thought I needed protection.”

The originals stared in horror to see the bolt embedded in their brother. Yet, despite being it in deep, you snarled as you looked up at Damon.

“Do I look,” you snarled, ripping the crossbow bolts out from between your ribs “Like the kind of bitch who dies?”

“Holy shit,” Caroline breathed out in a shock.

“Listen!” Damon hands up in the air, before sporadically pointing to your siblings, “Family!”

You snarled as you looked at your siblings, your chest slowly heaving up and down as you were about to calm down before your grip tightened on the bolt, eyes back on Damon. At this moment of desperation, he went down on his knees.

“This is a sight I’ve never seen before,” Stefan mocked, snorting behind his brother as Rebekah giggled, though looking down when she sees Elijah glaring at her.

“You’re off the hook this time, Salvatore, but next time you piss me off. I will slowly kill you, and I will ravish in your begging screams to plead me to have mercy, you hear me?”

Your siblings were sure they saw a hint of red within your eyes, even if it flash momentarily. However, they didn’t understand, you were Henrik’s age when they became vampires, how were you alive and more terrifying than them.

“We didn’t know how to break the news,” Caroline spoke softly to your family, who turn their attention to her, “It’s not every day that your supposed dead brother is alive and he’s like a big shot in hell.”

“I did not sell my soul to be called a big shot in hell,” You exclaimed, tilting your head in dramatic effect as Caroline smiles, “You have always been a charmer, Caroline.”

“Careful, (Y/n),” She says, though Klaus cannot help but feel threatened in the way she looks at you, “Klaus might get possessive.”

You paused before standing up straight, “Well, dearest brother, I congrats you for winning the heart of Caroline Forbes.”

“How are you alive?” Kol asked

“Well, thank you for interrupting my monologue-”

“No one wants to hear that,” Stefan complained as you cast your eyes towards him, “No offence.”

“Well, if you used your ears, which are conveniently created for hearing. I sold my soul a demon, who then I killed to become a demon to serve our Gods. It’s all convoluted, but I will explain in due time. I don’t think I would have happened to cross over my siblings, I thought you guys were dead.”

“So did we.”

You smirked at your siblings, though you cast Freya a look of confusion, before scanning the eyes of your siblings. You chuckled to yourself.

“It’s nice to see you again.”

[just-someone-who-likes-to-write]

May I request Nuada with a human reader that is a new witch. Something fluffy maybe?

Again, no access to my laptop yet, but I will try my best to do the request through my phone, and again I am so sorry for the errors!

I was planning for this to be simple and fluffy story but my imagination went a but wild but it still has many fluffs!! Please enjoy!!

You closed as you held your hand forward to the fire bowl in front of you, clearing your senses you tried to connect with it but was unable to.

"Concentrate, (Y/n)." Said your teacher, and you tried but still felt no connection to the element. "Most witches can manipulate fire, you are just not trying enough."

Her words made you angry, which made your determination to proof her wrong rise. You took a few steps forward, believing that maybe the problem is with the distance, but you quickly stopped and pulled away when you got too close and almost burned your hands. Your teacher let out a disappointed sigh as you checked your hand for any injury.

"What am I going to do with you?" She said getting your attention. "You can't manipulate objects, or teleport, or control a simple human mind, and now not even control fire!"

You said nothing only held your hand in front of you and kept your head down in shame.

"You are a good Brewer, I admit that." She said. "But any other witch can be a Brewer, even humans even they had the ingredients!"

"I'm sorry... " was all you could say.

"Saying sorry without accomplishing anything doesn't make you any useful to the King!"

"What is the meaning of this?"

A familiar boming voice called making both you and your teacher tense as you turned to the double doors. Right there stood Prince nuada, his signature frown showed on his face and he made his way towards the two of you.

"Your royal highness!" Exclaimed your teacher who quickly bowed and you followed her action. You kept your head down until you saw his shoes standing in front of you.

"Raise your head." He ordered and you did. His golden eyes met yours fir a brief moment before looking to your teacher.

"What honor do we have that his highness decided to visit us?" Your teacher said with a smile, you'd have believed she was in a good mood if she didn't just yell at you a few moments ago.

"I came to see the progress of your students, but only could hear yelling from the end of the hall." He said in a very displeased manner making your teacher tense.

A few months ago the Elf King had extended a hand to the witches, asking for thier aid against the human and offering protection and ressources as an exchange. Your Cover was one of the few who agreed to stand by the King. However, unlike your sisters you weren't as talented as them, they could conjure spells to fight and defend against humans but you could do none of that. So your teacher had decided to use the King's ressources as a chance to give you better education, hoping your power would awake, but it didn't.

"My deepest apology your highness." She said bowing again. "It's just one of my student is being... Difficult."

"Difficult?" He repeated in question. "Elaborate."

She then went onto this rant of how you can't do anything, how you can't manifest one spell that could benefit the King or your self at that matter. The more she talked the more you wanted to dig a hole into the ground and hide yourself in it, you clenched your dress, fighting back tears of frustration. You were doing your best, and she doesn't even giving credit for that as she continued saying your were lazy. It only took for the Prince to lift his hand up for the elder witch to be silenced.

"I will be dealing with the young lady personally." He said but you kept your head down, missing how troubled your teacher looked.

"that's... That's very generous of you your highness, but I can't imagine letting you-"

"You said that this young witch is wasting resources, time, and refusing to learn. " he cut her off. "So I need to personal make her understand the wrongs of her actions."

It was a short while until your teacher finally walked away to leave the room. The Prince stood right in front of you but said and did nothing until both of you heard the double doors shut. It was silence between you two, only the cracking of wood in the fire behind you could be heard. Nuada reached forward, placed his hand under you chin and gently lifted your head so your sad eyes could meet his affectionate ones.

"My little witch, why do you look so sad?" He asked concerned. You pulled away from his hand.

"My teacher is right I can't do even one simple spell." You said. "But I swear it's not because I'm lazy!"

"I know my dear." He assured, and even though you are grateful to know that he was at your side, it still didn't make you feel any better.

You and Nuada had started this secret friendship of yours when he found you wondering around the royal library, which later you found out it was forbidden for anyone else but the royal family to enter, that day to apologized none stop, which amused the Prince. After that he kept finding you, always saying that he wants to make sure you won't be going to any forbidden areas, and from that some kind of a friendship blossomed between you two. But you wanted to keep it a secret, because if anyone found out of the kind of treatment he is giving you they'd think he is picking favorites.

"Let's go to the garden." He said pulling you out of your thoughts.

"But we can't be seen in public together. " you said. "Everyone would get ideas."

"What ideas?" He asked raising a brow.

"That there is something between us." You answered with a shrug.

"And what is wrong with that?"

his question made look up to him with confusion, but you couldn't see the look he had for he was already making his way to the double doors, obviously not taking a "No" for an answer and with a tired sigh you followed. As expected your teacher was right outside waiting, when she asked nuada simply answered that he needs to show you just how much they are giving hoping it would motivate you to work hard, which was an obvious lie but your teacher seems to believe him as she continued to thank him for his "merciful" choice of a lesson for you. You just repressed rolling your eyes as you followed nuada to the royal Garden.

When you first arrived to the Bethmoora clan palace, King Balor has welcomed you, as well as other covens with open arms and provided a tour in the palace so you may know where to go and where was what, and so far, Your favorite area was the garden. You walked side by side with Nuada in silence, he had his hands behind his back, his posture straight and head held high like a true Prince, while you wondered around at almost every touching it and smiling them, except for those, which were poisonous but admured from afar.

"You truly love nature don't you, little witch." Said Nuada breaking the silence.

"I do very much so." You confirmed. "I used to go on walks in the woods when I was younger, just find a beautiful tree with plenty of shade to set beneath and read... "

You paused as your smile slowly turned into a frown.

"It all changed when humans started hunting us down." You sighed. "We had to hide away, which means no going outside, I was very depressed being stuck in for walls with nothing else to do but practice, practice practice!"

Your last outburst made nuada chuckle.

"Glad to know my pain amuses you." You said with a pout.

"Never, my dear." He said with a smile. "You can simply be too adorable I can't help it."

His statement made you blush and your turned your head away pretending to inspect the flowers below. After knowing the Prince for a few weeks he started saying these complements that left you beaming red, you just assumed it was his nature to do so, but whenever he was with other people he'd be the scary intimidating Prince who's no-one dared to address him in less than his given title, but when the both of you alone, he insist on you calling him by his name.

"(Y/n), I have a question for you." He said having your full attention.

"Yes?" Whenever he called you by your name it's serious.

"Witches can have different powers an abilities, correct?"

"Yes, every Witches Coven is different than the other, for example I heard of those who can use dolls, which is strange yet intriguing."

"And you cannot do the same things your coven does, am I Correct?" He asked again.

"Yes... " Your shoulders slumped and as your brows furrowed in a sad manner.

"Then have you ever considered that maybe you do not share the same abilities as your sisters?" He finally asked and you gave him a look of bewilderment.

"What are you trying to say?"

"What I am trying to same my dear little witch, is that you cannot do the things your sister can do easily... " He said and you almost gonna retort angrily but he continued. "Because you do not carry the same ability as them."

"Are you saying that I carry different abilities?" You asked looking down at your hands.

Nuada started to lead you to another part of the garden a more private part near the palace walls where vines stretched high against the wall. And you would have questioned the location if you weren't already questioning yourself.

"Set down." Said nuada breaking out of your train of thoughts.

"Where are we?" You asked looking around confused as nuada lead you to set in a clear spot with no plants just grass.

"This is my secret place." He answered. " no-one knows of it except Nuala."

"Why did you bring me here?"

"To do this."

He said before pinning you against the wall. Your eyes were widened in shock, your (E/c) eyes met his golden once, he started to slowly lean down, and move brought his mouth closer to your ear.

"May I steal a kiss?" He asked almost timidly,and a blush crossed your face at the request.

You would be lying if you said you didn't dream about your relationship with Nuada to grow more of that of a friendship,but to happen so suddenly and finding out he to desired it, in such private place like this made your heart beat fast. You lowered your head and gave a timid nod giving your consent. The Prince delighted,he lifted your head up and chuckled probably by how tight you kept your eyes closed, but that didn't stop him as he leaned down and pressed his lips against your own. The kiss wasn't agressive or passionate, it was a simple chaste kiss that still made you feel as if your spirit has flown to the heavens and came back as he slowly pulled away. that was your first kis but it left you in such daze that you didn't hear what Nuada said.

"huh?.. What?" You asked quickly looking uo to him. He smirked at your reaction.

"I'm happy to see what kind of effect does my touch have on you.. "He said making you want to look away but he quickly stopped you and made you look above you. "However, you too seem to have a special touch of your own."

He was correct, because the simple green vine that was behind you has many white flowers blooming on it and you were speechless because they weren't there before. You pulled away to have a better look and the flowers seems to go as much as the vines, even the vines seem to have taken even larger parts of the palace.

"I... I did that?" You asked in wonder.

"You did, my little witch." He said with pride as he wrapoed his arms around you and hugged your from behind. "Yes you did my darling (Y/n)."

---

Nuada was waiting at the end of the hall where your teacher's chamber were, he could have waited right outside but he didn't want to draw attention. He heard the doors open and you bowing one last time to your teacher before closing the door and leaving. You had entered empty handed but got out with many different books in your arma that you struggled to lift. Nuada hurried by your side to carry them from you.

"What did she say?" He asked, and you gave him a big excited smile that brought his own.

"You are looking at the very first green witch in our coven!" You almost screamed.

"A green witch?" Nuada asked confused.

"Yes, I can't manipulate or create fire like my sisters." You started to explain. "But I can and will be able to manipulate plants, rocks, animals, the earth and weather!"

"And these books will help you?" He asked looking down at the books that talked about different plants, herba and history of green witches.

"Yes, and I can't wait to read them all." You gave a shy smile to nuada. "Thank you for helping me realize my true powers."

"Why are you thanking me?" He asked genuinely confused.

"You knew in was a green witch." You said. "You told me how I can be different kind of witch than my sisters and took me to... That place."

You blushed at the memory of that kiss.

"You are mistaken my dear, for I didn't know you were a witch of nature." He confessed.

"But... The kiss... " you trailed off.

"I kissed you because I wanted to do so for a long time now." He said with a mischievous grin. "And judging by the way you reacted you wanted the same thing."

Your face was pure red as you snatched the rest of the books from his hands and ran away to your room, being embarrassed made you forget how heavy the books were and hearing Nuada's amused laugh from behind didn't make it better, but for some reason you couldn't help the smile on your face for you just found out that Nuada returned your feelings.

---

Again sorry for any errors, or if it's too long and I hope you enjoyed it!

[ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole]

Claiming Ones Own

This chapter was a pain to write. It's not perfect but will do as brain seems to want to focus on the next chapter hay ho! Enjoy. Cross posted on AO3.

Masterlist

[chap 1] [previous] [next]

Chapter 4 - Bedtime Disasters

By the time the trio had finished their meal it was late/early, depending on your viewpoint, but one thing was certain was that it was past Marie’s bedtime. This may have been a good point to try and get her to sleep, but given that a) they are bats, sleep is for the weak as Tim would state and b) Marie had been fed probably not the wisest proportion of chocolate in the last few hours, sleep was not really on the cards any time soon.

Cass and Jason worked in tandem clearing the table and storing what remained of the takeaway in the fridge. Jason had managed to demolish a significant amount unsurprisingly, so there wasn’t much to box up. Marie stood fascinated, watching the adults dance around each other with practiced ease, taking in all the subtle communication they gave to each other.

As Cass started to wash up the dishes, Jason sighed and set off towards the bathroom. Despite his grumbling’s Jason knew it was his safest course of action. The Alfred threat looming over him was not worth the energy fighting over and simpler to just do the task. Alfred, for all his neutrality, was wrapped around Cass’s little finger (much like Bruce), and now Cass was providing him with a great grandchild would give her more protection of Alfreds disappointment. He doubted it would be long till Pixie learnt that skill from Cass either. Pixie had a charm about her and was already working her magic on him and Cass.

Seeing Jason leave, Marie bouncing with unspent energy, quietly followed to see what he was up to. Washing dishes seemed boring to her, and she had already seen the kitchen. She knew where the chocolate was stored which was the key important factor. Silently she shadowed Jason, that was until he went towards the remains of the battle zone.

“No trick here Pixie, I’m just cleaning up the mess. I’m not gonna get you wet, promise. You can watch if ya like or have a look around the apartment. No escaping or running, we’ve just got ya and don’t want to have to save you again from some more bastards!”

The little huff of air as her response got Jason to chuckle. “We care about you Pixie. Cass claiming ya means your family now. Like it or not you’re stuck with us. Cass won’t give you up easily” Jason replied before starting work on tidying the bathroom.

Marie flitted around the apartment observing them both, wondering off briefly exploring before returning to see where they were. Over the meal they gained a small amount of trust, it was clear to see they meant her no harm so was letting some of her walls down for the moment appeared to be ok. She didn’t completely trust them but she didn’t not trust them.

During her apartment adventures Maria found a thing with buttons on. Inquisitively she pressed some of the buttons. She squeaked in surprise as the TV turned on. Cass heard the noise escaping her daughter and ran into the room in a panic. Heart pounding. Was her daughter ok? Has she hurt herself? Has someone however unlikely broken in?!!!

Relief flooded through Cass as she arrived on the scene, Marie hypnotised by the tv showing some baking show. Easing into a smile, Cass went and grabbed a couple of blankets and draped one round her shoulders and one around Maries. Gently guiding Marie to her lap on the sofa they both snuggled on the sofa to watch the baking show while Jason finished off.

When Jason finished, he found the pair fast asleep wrapped up tight in blankets with the TV and lights still on. As he turned the TV and lights off, two drowsy heads glared at him as he backed away before settling down to sleep. ‘Pixie is such a mini Cass in the making’ flashed through his head.

Jason woke to loud banging on his door, groggily he sat up and with a sleep ladened voice groaned, “What do you want Cass”. The woman barged into his room, “Missing” ‘Marie is missing!!! We slept on the sofa, when I woke, she was gone!’ “Help Jay!!”. Slowly shaking he sleep out of his body, Jason finally registered what Cass was saying and appearance. Cass was unnervingly jittery and had glimmers of fear and worry marking her face. To catch Cass’s mask cracking freaked Jason out.

“Fuck” Jason jumped out of bed. His head finally catching up with the conversation. Cass was scared. Pixie had disappeared between the time he’d gone to bed and Cass waking up. Street kids were tricky, they knew how to escape and avoid trouble. Giving what they saw of her on the streets, she had the potential to slip out the apartment without triggering the alarms. They were set up for those slipping in, not out. He thought that they had reassured her enough to stay the night and well hopefully trust them.

“Shit! Fuck! Where have you looked Cass? Are you sure she’s left the apartment?” grabbing some joggers to slip on, Jason walked over to the semi frantic Cass.

‘Looked in living room and bedroom. I couldn’t see her. Doors and windows locked still don’t think she left but I’ Cass looked up at Jason, her anxiety was showing ‘I panicked. Need help to find her’

Systematically the pair hunted the apartment. Looking in all the unusual places a child could hide. Pixie was appearing to be an expert at disappearing.

Throwing caution to the wind Jason looked in the blanket cupboard. Almost missing it, Jason could see a glimpse of hair poking out. Jason could only smile. His niece was hidden, you could barely see her, under the pile of blankets and right at the back so only if you were seriously looking for her. Leaving the girl who seemed content to rest Jason strode off to find Cass.

“Hey Cass, you can chill now. I found your gremlin. She is in the blanket cupboard all nested and asleep still.”

The visible effect of those words surprised Jason as tension and anxiety left his sister’s body. ‘Thank you Jay’. His niece had really wormed her way into Cass’s heart, and his heart too.

…………….

Being a mother was surprisingly more complex than Cass had thought as she reviewed her first almost week.

Meal times had been an interesting challenge to overcome with Marie demanding chocolate ALL the time. That was until Cass thought of chocolate milk. This seemed to appease her quirky child, so though at times convincing her to try new things was harder than it should be, Marie was more co-operative. At least now meals were not food covered in chocolate spread or succumbing to chocolate bar demands.

Taking Marie shopping had also been an experience she, and Jay, would rather forget. Marie disappearing for 30 minutes had caused an awful lot of fraught feelings for Cass and Jason as they hunted manically for her. When Marie reappeared she seemed quite content with a collection of jewellery and nonplussed about the chaos and anxiety she’d left behind her. Her pickpocketing habits would need to be addressed as she kept the ring she obtained but she gifted the rest to Jason and Cass. The gift given would have been sweet if it a) wasn’t stolen and b) she didn’t think that she needed to buy love/care. Shopping also unraveled that the girl was particularly picky about clothes and distrustful of strangers. All in all, it resulted in a lot of stress for the Wayne adoptees. Shopping trips were now off the table for a while if Marie was involved.

Though these were issues and problems, Cass felt she had managed to overcome them or at least manage to for the most part. Ok, that was a lie but she had plans semi in place.

Her current headache at this moment in time was sleep! Well more the waking. She wasn’t sure how she would survive a month of parenthood at this rate. Every, and she really did mean every, morning Marie was missing only to be found in another location. It was causing her more distress that she’d like to admit.

She had hoped that the first blanket nest situation the first night was a one off. Turns out that was a no. Jason was finding it all too amusing as well!

After night 1, night 2 was spent coaching Marie to sleep in her bed. Buying a new bed hadn’t crossed their minds after the shopping fiasco, and Jason wasn’t currently willing to relinquish the spare room. Something about his guns and personal space. Getting her into a soft bed still required too much chocolate bribery. Waking up to Marie missing. Again. Freaked Cass out. Eventually she was sound curled up in a suitcase on top of the wardrobe.

Night 3 Cass slept in the bed with Marie, hoping that it would convince her to stay in the bed all night. That failed when she was found asleep under the bed. At least that time it was semi easy to find the girl.

Night 4 Cass burrito’d and swaddled the girl up in blankets. Restricting her movements may help her settle and remain in bed. That failed too. Marie was found sleeping in Cass’s wardrobe this time. Slightly easier to find again.

By night 5 Cass was close to pulling her hair out. The morning drama’s were getting to her and Jason finally conceded the spare bedroom to her daughter. The amusement was still there but not as strong. That was a sort of win, Marie gaining her own space and hopefully learning to trust them more.

That was a complete disaster as Marie disappeared again this time. The girl was eventually found wrapped in a blanket nest in the kitchen cupboard amazingly hidden behind the food. An impressive way to hide. Chocolate wrappers were also found.

‘Jay! Help. I don’t understand. Why won’t she stay in bed? What am I doing wrong?’

“You’re doing great Cass! Chill a bit. Pixie is eating more than chocolate and we are finding her quicker each day. She’ll run out of new hiding places soon which will mean we will find out her favourite space to sleep”

‘Nooo Jaaay! Help! Please she needs to learn to sleep in bed. I can’t introduce her to Alfred otherwise. He’d want to meet her. Which brings the rest of them. And I don’t want to loose her! The others would be too much!! Please! Please! Pleeeease Jay!!! For Alfred if not meee!"

Jason could do without the morning stress too and Cass did raise a good point about Alfred and the rest of the bats. Sighing, Jason pondered over what Pixie was doing and recalled his time adjusting to the manor.

“Cass, she likes small safe, hidden spaces. Open spaces leave her vulnerable and open to attack. I think she knows that we won’t do that, but it's a hard habit to break. Plus she is a stubborn girl, a true bat I guess. I know I didn’t like the big rooms at the manor to begin with. Perhaps we can create a safe nest in her room to see if she’ll stay. A small safe space. The room is too big currently for her to be used to it.”

Smiling Cass nodded. The logic sort of followed.

That evening Cass and Jason worked together to make a blanket fort nest in the corner of the room. Marie watching with curious eyes. Playing with the ring she’d taken to wearing on a chain. When Cass started to take the bedding off the bed into the blanket fort, Maries eyes’ turned to saucers as she worked out what was happening. Tugging on Cass’s arm ‘Marie help?’ caused Cass to smile in pride and nod. Marie was starting to sign more delighting Cass and semi trusting them.

The next morning Cass woke to find Marie still dozing in her blanket fort and smiled! This obstacle was conquered.

Note: thank you to PickledPlumFan on AO3 for the chocolate milk idea/concept.

[next]

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[redinkrain]

Say something.

2.

True to her words, Abigael Jameson-Caine arrived on the porch of the Vera-Vaughn-Greenwood Manor an hour later in a dark cloud. Being here seemed so estranged and yet familiar and safe to the British Lady; an opposite feeling to the one she had when she had to go back to that awful place in Sussex she was once obliged to call home when she was a little girl.

She took a deep breath and exhaled, a tiny bit apprehensive of how things might turn out with the Charmed Ones of course but especially with Mel. Closing her eyes to regain composure, she knocked three times at the hardwood door. When the door opened, the sister behind it wasn’t the one Abigael expected. There, stood Perky Princess -apologies-Maggie with exhaustion marking her features like the half-demon half-witch never saw on the Charmed One before. But when Maggie registered who had knocked on their door, her eyes lightened up just long enough for Abigael to catch it.

“Abby? What are you doing here? Is there a situation? Please tell me it’s not about demons! We’ve got our hands full in it already. Is this about some sort of demon overthrowing another one?” the younger sister asked in a straw of panic.

The ex-Demon Overlord frowned at that, but then thought that Macy’s phone-call was an hour ago and that in this short period maybe she had not found the time to warn her sister.

“Good evening to you too Miss Babbler. I am here because I’ve got a call from your sister silently asking for my help. So breathe.” The older woman let out a little bit annoyed.

“Mel called you?” Maggie questioned suspiciously.

“Your other sister actually.” Abby corrected.

“What? Macy? Really?” the witch seemed skeptic.

And like magic Macy appeared behind her sister.

“Yes, I called her. It’s an emergency at this point.” The eldest sister said. “Hi Abby! Please, come in! Thanks for coming.”

“Well of course! Anything I can do to help, even though I am not quite sure of how I can provide any sort of assistance in this matter.” Neither if Mel wanted to see her.

“Look, like I said on the phone, Mel’s not herself since she had to send Eva back to her time. It’s like she put her pain in demons hunting and declare an open season on them. Not that we’re not okay with vanquishing evil demons, but she keeps going after them and her reckless behavior puts her in danger constantly. So can you please try to talk some sense into her?” Macy desperate tone had said enough.

“Are we serious about asking her that?” Maggie tried to murmur to her sister, but Abigael heard it anyway. She felt a bit hurt that after everything the witch still had doubts about her intentions regarding Mel.

Macy observed their guest a few seconds before saying loud enough for the two women with her to hear.

“We are serious about it Mags. Abby only has Mel’s best interests at heart.” She then look the British Lady with that same expression Waverly had just after saying to her you do love her, Abigael.

Quite honestly Abby never thought she would witness this kind of acceptance from one of Mel’s sisters, especially not Macy. At a lost of words, she didn’t said anything to confirm what the eldest sister just affirmed. She didn’t needed to anyway.

“Speaking of Melanie, where is she?” Abby asked.

“At the Command Center.” Maggie stated.

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride!” Macy told Abigael while taking her jacket.

The drive to Safe Space went alright, there wasn’t any hurtful comment nor judgment from both parties. Macy parked the car and guided Abby to the entrance then gave her an encouraging smile before leaving.

The ex-Demon Overlord might always have been a step ahead in a lot of matters but here? Right now? With Mel? She was clueless. All of this went on so suddenly, she hadn’t had time to think in what kind of state of mind exactly the Charmed One was neither had she time to think of what she could possibly say to her. And who was she to try to talk some sense into her anyway?

She observed from the upper level, Mel was reading an old book from the armchair. Ever the perfect picture. She reminded her of that painting by Karen Whitworth except the witch looked devastated and her sobs didn’t helped. Abigael gathered her thoughts and went for the stairs.

Her steps were quiet as if she hoped that her friend wouldn’t even notice she was there. She stopped a few steps from the Vera sister who had her back to her and was crying in silence while wiping her tears as best as she could.

“Mel.” Abby simply pronounced with nothing but softness.

No response from the witch. The half-demon half-witch took the few remaining steps and reached the armchair where Mel sat. Carefully, like she was afraid of breaking a piece of glass, Abigael put her hand on one of Mel’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. The witch froze then turned around slowly. Her expression was soft but her eyes, oh God, they reflected so much pain, so much sadness to witness. But Abby didn’t missed the little spark that found its way in those desperate eyes.

“Abby.” Mel murmured eyes filled with tears kept at bay before adding with the same intonation “Are you really here?”

Her heart broke at those words.

“Would you dream of me?” She asked back with so much tenderness that she didn’t even recognized her own voice. In any other circumstances she would have said something entirely different, a snarky remarks, a naughty comment even, but right now all she wanted to do was eased Mel’s wounds and turned them into scars.

Mel studied her friend’s features and with that same broken voice she answered Abby’s question.

“I do, sometimes.” she paused briefly “You always come to visit me at night when I have no tears left to cry. You just- you just lay down next to me on my bed and hold me. Always whispering to my hear that it’s okay not to be okay. But then in the morning you’re gone, like you were never there.” She played with her hands and Abby never saw the Vera sister so broken. “It’s the first time you come to visit me here. I must have fall asleep while reading.” Mel frowned thinking.

“You are not dreaming, Love. I do am here.” The ex-Demon Overlord murmured while placing her other hand on Mel’s face, caressing her cheek and wiping away a new tear that escaped on its own accord.

“You say that too sometimes, but then I close my eyes and when I open them... you vanished.” She swallowed down a sob.

“Close your eyes, Melanie.” Abigael said softly with that damn accent Mel missed so much. So she did closed her eyes. “Hear my voice.” the half-demon half-witch pursued “Just feel my touch on your skin.” stroking the witch jaw. “I won’t disappear. I promise.”

Mel stayed still, refusing to open her eyes and to have to let go of her friend.

“Open your eyes, Love. I will be here with you.” Murmuring into the witch’s left ear.

The Vera sister opened her eyes and was surprised to see Abigael still standing in front of her.

“You’re really here?” Mel asked anyway.

“I did promised you I would, didn’t I?” The British Lady simply stated.

“You sure? I’m not dreaming?” the witch seemed still a little unconvinced.

“Certainly not, Love.”

And with that simple answer, Mel rose and put her arms around Abby’s neck and breathed for the first time since Eva’s departure.

[shirophantomvox]

Hold My Hand- Illumi x Reader

OMG thank you! My first international fan! Thank you for this wonderful prompt! This was requested by @illucilfer .

Summary: Today’s story takes place in a 1950s diner by a frequently used Interstate; Interstate 95. We know this dinner for its delicious hamburgers, hot dogs, milkshakes, and jukebox records, but every night one Patreon never returns home. A few men who were angry about your recent arrest have shot you both. As you both stare at each other exchanging mental signals, everyone around you tries to help you to the hospital. Y/N is narrating the story. I seem to have fewer grammar errors that way. FYI, Bold and italicized font will reference a thought or flashback.

Story Navigation

Let’s get started!

The leaves have turned bright yellow and orange, fluttering every second to the ground. I could hear little children a while away laughing and playing in the community park; throwing up the leaves, jumping into piles, and throwing them at each other. The smell of freshly baked donuts brightened everyone’s mood. All you had to do was take one bite and your face would brighten and crack a smile. Dining at Cupid’s Kitchen will always have your heart and interest.

Interstate 95 was always heavy with traffic during this time of year. The folks of Dallas celebrated mulch annually. The “Mulch Fest” was a street fair that stretched 1.5 miles to the east that contained music, drinks, farmer panels, homemaker Q&A, and other activities that southerners enjoy. Illumi and I are only here because of an unfinished assignment. We have worked night and day for countless days trying to catch Jack “Da Hamor” Gilberton, but he was nowhere to be found. Eventually, I allowed my anger to get the best of me and made the executive decision to take a day off. I barred Illumi from searching, tracking, or any form of hunting for our target. The life of a bounty hunter and an assassin can thrill, but it can drive you insane if you allow it.

Ironically, Illumi and I both enjoy fall. It is perfect for cuddling (although he acts as if he’s too good to cuddle), wearing creative hoodies, going to pumpkin patches, and attending apple orchids. I tend to “lose my cool” when we have dates there. When I was a child, my family did not go on trips like these because they were over an hour away from our home and I had 5 siblings. But once I made money for myself, I made it my mission to go to one at least 5 times out of the year. Illumi enjoys the different fudge, hot cider, and candy apples. He almost broke a tooth on one!

“Say cheese snag-a’-tooth!”

“Stop it. It’s not funny!”

“It is! Could you imagine if you lost your two front teeth? You’d look almost adorable as you did in the 1st grade!”

“How did you know about that?”

“Duh! It happens to everyone, but your mother showed me the pictures, of course.”

“Curses!”

Illumi’s sweet tooth is just like Killua’s; both have a weakness for chocolate. Except, Killua will admit defeat while his older brother keeps denying it.

Cupid’s Dinner has been in Dallas for over 55 years. A black woman established it in 1945 by the name of Mary-Lou Benson. Since then, Mary’s family has been running the shop, making sure all of her customers are happy with the service. During the turn of each season, Cupid’s Dinner gives its customer's food options based on the season. The fall options include donuts, candy apples, different flavored cider, fudge, and hot coffee specials. As much as everything looked appetizing, I could not order it all. Our server, Little Ben, placed our drinks in front of us and handed us the menu. I could tell he was happy with his line of work, just as I was to be with Illumi.

“You all take your time. I’ll be back in five.”

Ilumi glanced on both sides of the room, scanning for Jack Gilberton, already forgetting the agreement we established.

“Illumi, what are you doing?”

“Huh?”

“You keep looking around like you’ve seen Da Hamor. Eat your donut and relax, sweetheart.”

“I cannot relax. I must stay on alert.”

“If I can relax, so can you. It’s not that hard.”

“Fine. If I die, it’s on your head… literally.”

The jingling bell rang almost every second when a customer walked in. It was a joy to everyone's ears; the spirit of Mary Lou-Benson was alive and well. An overwhelming feeling of love seemed to have overtaken the diner. After examining the bistro for quite some time now, each customer had been using their cellphones at the table instead of chatting with their families. Many traditional families hated that about this generation but they should be open to new traditions forming. Illumi dislikes using cell phones or tablets at the table unless we use them for missions. He has emphasized how rude it is to be surfing the web about utter nonsense while someone is speaking. This is a pet peeve of his, something I’ll never step on his toe about. Although I think that is overdoing it, I respect it.

Little Ben served our table quickly, leaving us with two dishes of a classic chicken sandwich, kettle chips, one chocolate, and vanilla milkshake. Milkshakes were my weakness; I nearly foam at the mouth when I see one. When I found out that Illumi had NEVER had a milkshake, I almost fainted.

“No. I’ve never had a milkshake.”

“Huh? You’re missing out, pal.”

“What’s the big deal? Isn’t it frozen milk?”

“Not just frozen milk. You can add many flavors, toppings, and whip cream!”

“Well, then. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

We thanked Little Ben for his service as he clocked out for the day.

“I have to admit these sandwiches look very appetizing.”

“You can say that again!”

Before I nibbled on my sandwich, I wanted to take a moment and adore the man before me; Illumi Zoldyck. A man full of mysteries, professionalism, skill, and talent. His enormous eyes were immersed in the large pieces of chicken in between the sourdough bread. He licked his index finger vigorously; allowing the homemade honey mustard to drip enough from the bread to the plate in between licks. Just the sight of him actually relaxing for once has blown me away. For once, Illumi Zoldyck could be himself and I had the privilege to witness it.

“Um… why are you staring at me? Do I have food on my face,” he asked; violently wiping his mouth off with a provided cloth napkin.

“Oh! Ha, ha; no reason. I wanted to see your reaction after drinking your milkshake. That’s all.”

“Why? It’s just a drink.”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“Babe? What happened to LuLu or Illumi-Lu?”

I gasped and pretended to be surprised… although I was a little.

“I did not know that you liked those pet names. I assumed it mortified you.”

“Who told you that? That never rolled off my tongue. “What I said was” — He bent closer to the table and to me; glancing both to the right and left to ensure no wandering ears were around — “I prefer Illumi-Lu to be said in the bedroom and LuLu when we’re alone, like how we are right now.”

“Aww…. ok,” I yelled in excitement.

“Don’t blow it out of proportion, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

As we ate, Illumi hummed along to the tune that played a few times on the restaurant's jukebox. Illumi and I were born in the mid-90s, but listening to 50s music was a part of his aesthetic. I was told that he had an “old soul” which sounds romantic at first until you realize how men were during that era. His raging temper was a noticeable toxic trait, but it has drastically improved. Nonchalantly sipping on his milkshake and then eating more of his chips, he grazed the soft part of his left hand over mine as he continued to hum.

“What’s the name of this song? You seem to know it rather well.”

“Put your head on my shoulder, a famous song from the 60s. I heard my parents sing it once and since then, they have addicted me to it. Do you like it?”

“Yes, in fact, I love it. All of this is—”

“A surprise to you? Well, enjoy it while it lasts because once I find Jack Gilberton, this side of me will hide for a while.”

“Understood.”

Damn! I was just feeling connected to him again!

The music swelled; everyone seemed to be happy. Not an evil spirit insight to disrupt this beautiful moment. For once in my life, my raven-haired beauty actually held my hand tight, stole a few of my barbecue kettle chips, and gazed into my eyes harmlessly. His lips brushed against both of my hands, ever so lightly placing kisses on both sides of them. Illumi’s gentle smile warmed my heart as my lingering thoughts of hope stayed intact.

The welcoming bell jingled again. Two men in black leather jackets, stone-washed blue jeans, and tattooed all over their arms came into the diner. The men seemed to be bikers who had just left their own “spot” but one thing struck me as they continued to walk towards the staff. They both wore sunglasses when the sunset for the day. Not to mention that the lights were not dim in the diner and the moon was as bright as ever. The second man had his eyes glued in my direction. My heart beat faster as I wondered if Jack Gilberton had found us. Could you imagine?

Put your head on my shoulder

Hold me in your arms, baby

Squeeze me oh-so-tight

Show me you love me too

I am used to coming in contact with enemies on my hit list, but given Jack’s criminal history; I felt like I may not survive his attacks. Illumi will survive, but just barely. Both men approached the checkout, crowing over Little Ben’s sister. She was a short woman but full of might, and I could tell by the shakiness in her voice she was frightened. I wanted to step in so badly, but I didn't want to blow my cover just in case it was, in fact, Jack Gilberton. After I assume, ordering food, both men stood by the entrance, blocking it from others from entering and leaving. The sound of their old, beat up-lighters crackled as one lit a joint and the other lit a cigarette. This horrid smell ruined the atmosphere because they were not in a designated area and it drowned out the lovely aroma of the food being served.

“If you gentlemen would like to smoke, you need to go outside. There is no smoking in here.”

“What? You think you’re better than me because you don’t smoke?”

“Huh? I never said that, sir. I asked for you to go outside. Not all of our customers can deal with it.”

They did not move a muscle. The sound of their mucous laughter made everyone’s stomach turn. They laughed at the young girl and called her many slurs. Little Ben’s sister didn’t flinch, nor did she cry; she remained still, staring at the men. I had just enough of their obnoxious behavior.

“If you do not leave, I will call the police.”

“The hell you won’t.”

Put your lips next to mine, dear

Won't you kiss me once, baby?

He drew a gun from his left side. He aimed it at Little Ben’s sister and demanded that she emptied the drawer. She refused. Her stone, iron will reminded me of Illumi; no matter the circumstance, they remained intact, determined to fight until the end. Bravery is always encouraged, but too much will cause your life to be taken away. Little Ben’s sister grabbed a fake till that they kept under the real one and threw it at both men. Fake money fluttered everywhere in the small diner, mimicking confetti. Gunshots rang in all directions as the imbeciles recklessly shot, aiming for Little Ben’s sister. Everyone threw themselves on the ground to avoid being shot, but luck cannot spread itself throughout an entire room of people. A young child, an older man, and another worker were shot in their lower leg. Blood reflected from the ground as it continued to seep. Ignoring injured civilians is a jackass move and continuing to deny the fact would prove that the oath I pledge to meant nothing. Sure, bounty hunters must remain hidden, but if someone is injured, I must help them.

The child was lying lifeless on the polished marble floor. He would not respond to my shaking or my silent whispers. When I rolled him over, my heart broke into a million pieces. This child had no chance of survival; a few bullets struck his chest, one just inches away from his heart. A tear rolled down my cheek.

“Why must the good die young,” I whispered to myself.

“... Because snitches get stitches.”

Before I could gain sight of who stated this utterly corny response, I felt an overwhelming amount of pain in my lower back. It felt like a million tiny needles were jabbed so far through my skin that they entered my intestine. I could still hear, but my body would not move. I tried and tried, but my brain would not signal my legs.

Move! Move, damn it!

It’s odd; I could hear myself talk, but my body would not move at all. The sound of another thudding body made my mind jump. My heart had already been pounding enough to try to resuscitate my organs to move, but a familiar semi-blurring sight of none other than Mr. Illumi Zoldyck cleared my sight. My brain went wild. I didn’t know if Illumi died or if he became paralyzed, but one thing is for sure. We finally made eye contact that felt special; something I hadn’t felt since the day I met him. Our contact felt like magnets; an unbreakable bond. Suddenly, my icy hand felt warmth around my palm and fingers. Illumi simultaneously fell in a way that connected our hands. Our unbreakable bond, the warmth of his fingers laying on top of mine, and the gaze we shared somehow made me feel like it was just the two of us alone. I could hear his thoughts loud and clear; thoughts that came from the heart.

“Please help me. Before it’s too late, LuLu,” I cried, thinking I was going insane. “I don’t want to leave if it means leaving you behind.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

“Please! I want to live a life. Life as a bounty hunter, build a support system to our children, and a good lover is all I want to be.”

“You are a warrior and so am I. We have been through worse. This is nothing.”

Mere eye contact is all we need to exchange wandering conversations. The bond that we’ve created is something so strong that I haven’t realized it until now. The warmth emitted from his loose grasp seems to lose its effectiveness. It blurred my vision beyond recognition, leaving Illumi as a near figment of my imagination.

“Oh no. I guess this is it.”

My vision darkened. Illumi was slipping away as my lingering thoughts almost made my heart give out from exhaustion. I was ready to accept my fate, but it seemed like fate had other plans. My vision was still darkening by the second, but my sense of touch remained there. Smooth fingers outline my arms, torso, and chest. I heard muffled voices yelling and screaming about calling for assistance, but I didn’t care if they came or not. I made peace with my life’s end. Bit by bit, my breathing slowed down, but my sense of touch remained heightened. I felt a rubber glove touch my face and neck, examining it for any damage.

The jukebox continued to play Illumi’s favorite song, Put Your Head on my Shoulder. I remembered the day I laid my head on his shoulder; boy, what an endearing moment that was. It was something I took for granted, something I should have savored, for I never knew that this moment would have happened. The song grew muffled by the second verse. That verse repeated every time I tried to force myself to take what felt like my last gaze at my raven-haired beauty.

Just a kiss goodnight, maybe

You and I will fall in love (you and I will fall in love)

-FIN.

A/N: Since you’ve made it to the end, I’ll say something. The reader did not die in the end. They were later revived at the hospital.

[deniigi]

Your headcanon of The Armored having already adopted Boba and Fennec sight unseen is DEEPLY making me look forward to when they all do meet.

I have written them meeting a few times, but haven't yet found a version I'm super happy with. I'll get there eventually.

In the meantime, have this bit of Paz and Din being told off in front of Luke, Boba, and Fennec. In this little bit, Paz has been refusing to train with Luke and Din's youngest sister started a rumor that he and Luke were an item.

-----------

Buir turned around and identified Luke immediately. She left Din and Paz to go stand in front of him (still ignoring Fett and Fennec somehow) and held out a hand. Luke was enraptured by her helmet. It took him a moment to notice the hand. When he did, he dropped Fennec, and, to Din’s utter shock, took it, dipped his head and brought buir’s knuckles to his bare forehead.

Paz’s hand came up behind Din’s neck to squeeze at it in equal anxiety.

Buir watched this in complete silence. Luke released her hand and lifted his eyes.

Buir held his gaze for a long moment before wrenching her body around to practically glow with fury at Din and Paz.

This time, Paz and Din executed a long-practiced maneuver called ‘huddle and pray.’

“He does not need to be asked for respect,” buir said with perfect consonants.

Scary. So scary. There was nothing to say to her now.

“Why must I ask this from my own son and comrade, and yet the ancestral enemy gives it without hesitation or stumble, hm?” buir asked.

There was literally nothing to say. Buir knew this. She held the silence before rounding on Luke again and gently taking his hand in hers.

“You are a very sweet boy, I see this,” she said. “Forgive my children, they are under-socialized and we lost the smaller one down a mine when he was young. He has never fully recovered.”

Um? Din had, actually?

It took about fifteen years and was not helped by Paz telling him that bats would nest in his ears at night if he didn’t turn over often enough, but he’d gotten there in the end, hadn’t he?

Fett lifted his eyes to the sky and pressed a fist into his nose and mouth next to Luke. He appeared to be blinking back tears.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” Luke said in the meantime. “And it’s alright. I fell into a cistern when I was three and now have a petrifying fear of drowning. Din has been nothing but kind to me. And I’m sure that Paz is a nice person deep down. Somewhere.”

“You poor thing,” buir crooned. “Your optimism hurts my eyes, but I will accept this kindness on behalf of our covert. Thank you for your efforts in attempting to teach Paz through non-violence, although I have some recommendations for you. Namely, a motivator.”

Paz whimpered into a palm. Din cringed.

“His name is Ban,” buir said. “He is useless to us all, and unfortunately our founding elder’s grandchild. But he has done much reading on you, my dear, and he is enthused to provide you with the means you need to keep Paz focused on lessons.”

Luke frowned and cocked his head.

“I’m not sure I understand, Ms.—uh—”

“You may call me ‘Goran,’” buir said benevolently. “It means ‘Armorer’ in our language. And perhaps I was being too delicate. What I mean is that Paz learns best when complex maneuvers have absorbed his anxious energy. Ban is his assigned provider, since Din has helpfully evicted himself from the position, and I am pleased to say that he is the most exhausting of the current line-up. I will set him to assignments in and around this moon so that Paz will have things to do in the space between your lessons. This should alleviate some of the pressure on you in the meantime.”

Luke forgot to blink for a good ten seconds.

“You’re giving me another Mandalorian?” he asked.

“A worse one, yes,” buir said.

Fett wiped at his streaming eyes.

Din couldn’t stand by in silence any more.

“Buir,” he said, shoving Paz away from him so that he could come and brush the tips of his gloves against her elbow. “Luke already has—”

“So familiar,” buir scolded immediately.

Luke’s eyebrows shot up. Din didn’t bother, he backtracked.

“Jedi Skywalker already has more Mandalorians than he can deal with,” he said. “He’ll be uncomfortable with Ban’s energy, even in short bursts. I’ll volunteer to do the work. Paz and I can hunt together. It will be sufficient; we can keep each other in line.”

The silence that followed was not comforting. It spoke of a scowl and a whole lot of skepticism.

“Did I say ‘Din?’” she asked.

No.

“When did I say ‘Din?’”

She hadn’t.

“Funny. That’s what I thought, too.”

Fett covered his whole face and shook.

“You are busy, ad’ika. Stressed, I’m sure,” buir said sympathetically, “You stand here before me in a shocking state. We will handle that momentarily, whoever touched your helmet last deserves to be boiled.”

Fennec stood up on her own power abruptly and dragged Luke off-balance.

“Goran,” she said with the utmost respect, “Perhaps you would do us the honor of overseeing Vizsla’s training? See, Luke is scared of him, aren’t you, Luke?”

Luke tried to pull out of Fennec’s grip with no success.

“I’m fine, actually,” he said.

“He’s miserable,” Fennec said over him. “He messages me in tears every night.”

“I do?” Luke asked.

Fennec crammed the side of her boot into his as a threat. Buir chose not to read into any of that. Her bullshit threshold was too high after Din and Paz within three feet of each other for more than five minutes now.

“I’m afraid that my responsibilities do not allow me to maintain this kind of surveillance over an individual member,” she said with perfect diplomacy. “Ban will report back to me, as will Paz should Ban make more than his share of nuisances. Is this satisfactory to you, Jedi Skywalker?”

Luke was trapped between a rock and a hard place, but not without hope. He gazed over buir’s shoulder to Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker, who had apparently chosen to limit those who could see them for the moment. Kenobi tossed up a finger and did a fun little spin and a jog. Luke’s father glanced after him and gestured that they’d be right back.

Luke cleared his throat.

“If you would allow me to consult with my Master,” he said. “Just one moment.”

He wriggled out of Fennec’s grip and bounded off in the direction that his father stood. Together, they chased after Kenobi.