note: erm, first alistair post, yay 👍 thx for almost 200 followers, weee. Okay, im done.
“You know Alistair, smiling once in a while wouldn’t kill you, right?” You teased, elbowing your boyfriend on the side of his torso. The latter winced slightly, pouting. “What? It’s hard to be happy when there’s about- ten different Ever After High princes staring at you.” Alistair retorted, continuing to walk step-in-step with you, gesturing around. “Alistair, it was one. And it was Prince Charming himself, of course he said something to me.” You raised a brow, crossing your arms.
Alistair spluttered. “So? Just because he’s some righteous prince with a sword, and- and, and good hair, and some dumb good-looking face doesn’t mean I have to like it!” He pointed in the air, glaring at you a little. Chuckling, you smiled in return to the boy’s narrowed stare. “I’m not saying like it. I’m saying don’t act like everyone else is worse just because he is.” Alistair scoffed, “Oh, like his friends are any better? Sparrow? Son of Robin Hood? First thing he did when he landed was flirt with Bunny.”
“Okay, fair point. But,” you started, dragging the word out, which caused Alistair to roll his eyes amusedly. “But what, [Name]?” He asked, and you smiled mischievously. “It’s really cute when you get jealous!” Alistair’s cheeks turned red, and he huffed a little. “I hardly get jealous. Hardly [Name]. I just- I just don’t want guys making you uncomfortable. That’s all.” He lied, horribly. And his lack of eye contact proved you right.
“No, no, I think you get pretty jealous. And it’s adorable to try and watch you deny it. I mean, Alistair, seriously, you’re so obvious sometimes.” You explained, “I mean, remember how we started dating?” Alistair sighed like he had just aged fifty years when you brought that event to the forefront of his memory. He does, in fact remember, how you two started dating. And it was all because he couldn’t hold his tongue when he saw you talking to some Ever After prince. He shouldered the guy while he practically spat in his face. In front of everyone. It was humiliating. Yet, despite that horrific memory, he wrapped his arm around your waist, and leaned over to the side of your head.
“You are insufferable, [Name].” Alistair said softly, and you instantly replied back, “Yeah, and your insufferable girlfriend is the only reason your chess doesn’t just have two members. Including you, and myself.” Alistair snickered, “Hey! Bunny was a member too.” The blond reminded you. “Yeah, after I hexted her a picture of your sad little face!” He immediately replied. “Okay, it was not sad! I was just-…” Alistair took in a deep breath, and spoke in a calm, collected tone of voice, “I just thought more people would appreciate the game of chess.” He stated, staring forward.
You gave him a blank stare. He glanced at you once. Twice. Three times. “Okay, I was a little sad.” He shamefully admitted, finally looking at you. “So, am I still insufferable?” You questioned with mock innocence. And Alastair rolled his eyes. “No [Name], you are not.”
Could I get a one shot of a newly turned vampire staying with the cullens who meets her mate in Alistair and they bond over just absolutely f*cking hating people and crowds and thinks this whole stand up to the volturi thing is insane? Please and thank you! 💜🩶🖤🤍
Shared Disdain - Alistair x Reader
Y/N stood apart from the others, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched the scene in the room. Everything in the Cullens house felt too loud, vampires everywhere from all around the world.
She had been turned only three weeks ago, Carlisle found her hunting a group of hikers loosing control over the newborn thirst and brought her here. The Cullens were nice, too nice. They smiled and spoke in soft voices convincing everyone to stand against the Volturi. It creeped her out, but somehow they were the ones who ‘adopted’ her.
By now they somehow convinced fourteen vampires to stand as allies against the Volturi, explaining over and over that Renesmee wasn’t an immortal child, that blood run through her veins.
The front door opened, the sound pulling her out of her thoughts, the scent of the new vampire overwhelmed all her senses in a way she never felt before.
“Alistair.” Carlisle greeted warmly as always, stepping forward. “Thank you for coming.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Carlisle. I came to see if the rumors were true. Not to sign my name on your suicide pact.” His voice was deep and carried a hint of a british accent. She looked at him properly. He was tall, his hair was long, messy and blonde, his clothes were dirty and he probably hasn’t changed them in years. She liked him immediately.
His gaze swept the room once, dismissing the Cullens with disinterest, until it landed on her. His nostrils flared and his head tilted. “You are new.” he said.
She nodded. “They are trying to civilize me before the Volturi squad arrives.”
“Civilizing newborns is a fool errand. Especially when the fools plan is to wave a red flag at the Volturi.” He replied looking at Carlisle. “What’s your name?” He asked her.
“Y/N.” She told him stepping forward without crowding him.
“Y/N. You look like someone who is already tired of this circus.” He said with a bitter laugh.
“Well, they want me to stand with them when I can barely stand being in the same room with this many people. Crowds make me want to run.”
“That’s precisely why I have spent all this years avoiding this sort of nonsense. The Volturi have ruled for millennia, marching against them is theatrical suicide. Yes, they will listen, but they will also burn your head to ashes.” He said, squeezing Carlisle shoulder. “No offense, friend.”
Later at night, Y/N sneaked to the attic, closing the door behind her, hoping to get some time alone, away from the witnesses and the Cullens, tired of hearing different strategies to take down the Volturi in case a fight happens.
The attic door clicked open again. She didn’t startle but her head lifted sharply looking at him.
“Figured I would find you up here.” He said stepping inside without waiting for invitation, closing the door with a soft click.
She exhaled a humorless laugh and shifted over making space. “I lasted longer than I thought I would before I wanted to set the piano on fire just to create a distraction.”
His lips twitched as he sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “They mean well.” he said dryly with a shrug. “Carlisle especially, he is just… an optimist. He believes reason and righteousness will sway the Volturi.”
Y/N tilted her head looking at him. “I keep hearing the same thing. That we have to try, that this is for Renesmee, that we are a family… As if eternity isn’t long enough to find a quiet corner of the world and just disappear from all this.” She gestured vaguely toward the floor, indicating what was going on below. “I didn’t ask to be turned and I didn’t ask for any of this.”
He made a low sound of agreement. “I told Carlisle when I arrived that I came to observe, only that. The man has a way of making refusal feel discourteous.” His gaze slid to her, their eyes locking. “But then I found you.”
She looked away for a moment as his words sank in, then turned to face him, her knee brushing his thigh. “You could have left already. You hate crowds more than I do.”
“I do.” he admitted, his hand reaching out to trace her jaw slowly. “Yet here I am, with someone who understand loneliness as much as me.”
Y/N leaned into his touch, her eyes half-closing. “ We have been walking the same lonely road and finally noticed the other person on it.” She said interlacing their fingers.
The silence didn’t last long, he told her about who he was before changing, how his father betrayed him, how the falcons feared him now. She told him about her human life in return, how her family was, how she was planning to study philosophy, the quiet nights in the library where nobody would bother her and how now the Cullens love felt like a cage she didn’t know how to escape without seeming ungrateful.
“I don’t do attachments.” he said finally after a moment of silence, his thumb tracing the back of her hand in a slow circle. “Never have.”
“Neither do I.” She squeezed once. “But this doesn’t feel like an attachment. It feels like parallel solitude.”
“I like the way you put that.” He said smiling, squeezing her hand back.
They stayed there for long time in a comfortable silence, ignoring the Cullens voices downstairs, just enjoying each other’s presence as much as they enjoyed being alone.
When they finally decided to go downstairs, Alistair turned to her again. “I won’t stay for their war, you already know that, but I will stay for you. At least until you decide what you want. If you want to run with me after this mess concludes, just know the world is large, and I know plenty of quiet places to show you.”
“I think…” She said slowly without much hesitation. “I would like to see those quiet places. After we watch this insanity unfold from a safe distance.”
And for the first time since her turning, the idea of eternity didn’t feel like a sentence. It felt like shared silence.
Grey Warden Alistair Theirin could not stop staring at you.
There was nothing special about this moment, he knew, yet that did not stop his eyes from pulling themselves away from the bowl of stew cradled in hand, only to rest dutifully on you, draped across the ground on the other side of the campfire. Flames flickered and danced to the song of the wind, distorting the breathtaking portrait you cut straight into his heart. It softened him to see you relaxing, finally, among all this chaos and death.
He almost feels guilty, for placing the weight of the world on your shoulders with grieving hands, but then Leliana makes you laugh hard enough to scrunch up your face and, Maker – he’s never heard such a sweeter sound. He wants to bottle it up, to drink from it forever. He knows he’d always remember this very moment, this memory already engraving itself into his soul. How the sound of your joy feels strong and steady as it passes through his lips and settles in his bones. How you look, limned in molten gold of the last rays of daylight before they dissolve back into the horizon from whence they came.
He’s never been one to blaspheme, not really, but he knows he’d remember how you’re Holy just as you are: the future Hero of Ferelden lounging among fallen leaves and broken twigs, dirt scuffing your clothes with your loyal Barkspawn at your feet – gnawing on a bone of questionable origin.
You were not the picture of divinity he was raised to revere, but that did not stop him from wishing he could fall at your feet and worship you here and now, at the glorious end of the world closing in hard and fast. He would pray to you every night, every morning upon waking, every moment on the battlefield when you all walk away bloody and battered, but on your feet - not on a pyre burning just as brightly as the smile you’re giving him this very second.
His heart stutters, chest tightens, lips tilting up, and up, and up, because it’s impossible not to grin when you’re looking at him like there’s no other place you’d rather be.
And then something clicks. Shakes him out of his latest daydream of admiration because, fuck. You caught him staring at you like you’re a deity reborn.
under the weather (alistair x reader) – chapter one
Summary: Alistair discovers that you're ill
Warnings/Tags: gn!reader, human!reader, mentions/descriptions of illness, mention of eating, Alistair having lots of anxiety (as per the usual); let me know if I've missed anything!
Words: 3675
Author’s Note: Alistair anon, if you're reading this, this one's for you!! I actually started this fic a long time ago, but I revisited it last night and then had a request for it, so I am now posting what I have finished of it! I have one more chapter done, so maybe I'll try to post that tomorrow? unfortunately the fic is not completed, but hopefully it will get there soon! for anyone feeling a little under the weather (or anyone who just wants a little Alistair fluff), I hope you enjoy! ☺️
Living in such close proximity to so many other vampires had been feeling particularly tedious lately, and so once Alistair had assured himself that you were safely asleep and that there were no present dangers, he indulged in some nighttime wandering to help clear his mind of the lingering frustrations of needing to put up with far more frequent interactions with the Cullens than he preferred. When he returned just before dawn, still pulling twigs from his hair and shaking pine needles from his jacket, he felt much more centered. He was resolved that he would suffer through the closer contact with Carlisle’s coven if it meant also getting to be close to you.
He was idly considering how you might feel about a trip to some remote location with just the two of you when he stepped silently into your bedroom and immediately sensed that something was wrong. Not really wrong, just off. He froze instantly, trying to decipher what was setting off alarm bells in his head. After scanning the room, his senses zeroed in on your sleeping form. He crept closer, perching ever so lightly on the edge of your bed, hovering a hand over you to assure himself you were still breathing even though he could hear the sound clearly. He just needed to be sure. So why were his senses alerting him to the fact that something was wrong? He closed his eyes, focusing. The familiar sound of your breath had been altered just slightly, the air not passing quite as easily as usual in and out of your lungs. Then there were quiet sounds, like you were sniffling almost imperceptibly in your sleep. Lastly, he realized that there was just the minutest change to the scent around you – the one that he would have known anywhere – indicating that not all was as it normally was. He compiled these findings quickly, attempting to make meaning of them. Then it hit him: you were sick.
He panicked. Could that happen so quickly? Quite literally over night? You had seemed fine when he left you. But had you truly been fine? Had there been small signs that he had been too distracted by his annoyance with the Cullens to notice? Should he have been paying closer attention? He lifted himself off your bed and began pacing in quick circles around your room as these questions flurried through his mind.
But you didn’t seem very sick, he tried to reassure himself. Your illness didn’t appear to be having too much of an impact on you since you were still sleeping peacefully. But what if it got worse? He had the faintest, blurriest memory from his human life, almost totally obliterated by now, but fragments of the feelings remained. His youngest sister, little Ibb, had a cough that the physicians had said was nothing. But within days she was burning up, drenched with sweat and coughing up bile. With his mother’s constant attention and some healing remedies, she eventually recovered, though the family had feared the worst for a time. It had taken weeks for her to regain her strength. The panic he had been trying to talk himself out of surged through him again, and he flitted to the side of your bed once more. He ghosted his hand over your forehead, attempting to determine if you had a heightened temperature. Much to his relief, you felt normal – warm compared to him of course, but not unusually so.
He huffed a little sigh – a very human expression that was working its way back into his comportment as he spent more time with you – and sank lightly onto the edge of your bed once more. He traced his finger over your cheek adoringly, just the barest brush across your skin. Should he wake you to ask how you were feeling? No, if you were unwell you certainly needed your rest. But he did want Carlisle to examine you, just to ensure it wasn’t anything serious.
He retreated to another room and pulled out the infernal little device that Carlisle had given him to “communicate.” Alistair almost scoffed. As though he had much interest in communication. Nevertheless, he flipped the thing open and punched in the required code to contact Carlisle. Of course, he could have just run to the Cullen house and explained the matter in person, but that would have involved leaving you and potentially exposing himself and his thoughts to that nosy little mind reader that Carlisle inexplicably kept around. He pressed the device to his ear. Carlisle picked up almost immediately.
“Alistair?” Carlisle’s calm voice betrayed mild surprise; Alistair never called him.
“My mate is sick.” It was not a word he used around you. He was terrified that you might find the idea of it too strange, too serious. Even he had balked at the idea at first, but it soon became clear to him that what he felt for you, the bond that was forming, was something eternal, unbreakable.
“And you would like me to stop by to assess the illness?” Carlisle intuited immediately.
“Yes,” Alistair responded. “I don’t think it’s serious, but I would like to be sure.”
“Of course. I’ll come by on my way to the clinic later this morning,” Carlisle replied, the amount of compassionate understanding in his voice still mildly surprising to Alistair. Other members of Carlisle’s odd “family” had been fairly clear in their assessment of Alistair’s worry over you as being excessive, even obnoxious, but Carlisle had always answered his multitude of questions and concerns with seemingly infinite patience. He could no longer find it in himself to regret speaking to a lonely and eager – if annoyingly persistent – young Carlisle all those centuries ago. Perhaps he should try to convey his gratitude in some way.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Alistair.” The faint shock in Carlisle’s voice attested to how unusual such an expression was, coming from Alistair.
With nothing further to say, Alistair pressed the button to end the communication. He then returned to your room to sit in the chair near the window that he often occupied while you were sleeping. He listened attentively to your breathing, making sure it didn’t become more labored. There was little change until he heard the quiet shifting of your covers as you moved beneath them and the sweet, soft noises that indicated you were waking. He drifted to your bed, standing there uncertainly for a moment before he realized he was looming a little ominously. He sank to the floor instead, folding his arms on the edge of your mattress.
You rolled to face him as though you sensed his presence despite his entirely silent approach. When your eyes slowly blinked open, you didn’t appear at all surprised to see him looking back at you. In fact, you seemed almost… pleased, if the warm, sleepy smile that bloomed on your face was anything to go by. Little beams of sparkling, refracted light went fluttering throughout Alistair’s body at the thought. Sometimes he wished he was still able to sleep, just so he could have the surely incomparably wonderous experience of waking up next to you.
“How were the woods?” you asked, your voice still thick with sleep and maybe just the tiniest bit hoarse. Sparks of panic went off in Alistair’s mind again.
“Good,” he responded, knowing he should probably expand on that answer, but also consumed with trying to determine the best way to bring up your illness.
“I think you might be sick.” The worried words left his mouth before he could think them through properly, coming out a bit less elegantly than he would have liked.
“Ugh, yes – I know,” you replied, rubbing a hand over your face in what seemed like mild annoyance. You knew? “I could feel it coming on yesterday, but I had hoped I was just tired.”
Alistair opened his mouth to ask you to clarify further and to inquire into how you felt, but then your alarm went off on the sidetable on the opposite side of the bed, cutting off the questions he was formulating. You swore quietly and rolled to turn it off. Alistair couldn’t help a light chuckle as the expletive fell from your mouth. He dashed to the other side of the room, silenced the noise, and returned to his post with his arms propped on your mattress before you had even rolled all the way over.
The look of slight confusion on your face melted into a cheerful laugh when you realized what had happened. Alistair could have listening to the lovely sound forever. But then you pushed yourself up to sit and he refocused on the issue at hand.
“How do you feel?” he asked, knowing you could probably hear the concern that threaded through his tone.
“Mostly fine, just a little congested,” you replied. You certainly seemed fine, but he could hear the congestion you described in your slightly impeded breathing.
He was framing a way to tell you about Carlisle coming to check on you when he noticed that you had slid your legs over the side of the bed as though you were intending to get up. Weren’t humans supposed to stay in bed when they were unwell? He flew to the opposite side of the bed to stand in front of you.
“What are you doing?” he whispered anxiously.
“I’m getting up?” you replied with bemused confusion that lifted the end of your sentence into a question. “I have to go to work.”
Work? You couldn’t possibly go to work – you were sick. What if you felt worse during the day? He couldn’t be there to monitor your symptoms, so he wouldn’t know if your illness had worsened.
“But you’re unwell,” he insisted, a new bevvy of fears springing to life inside of him as he considered all the possible negative outcomes that could result from you going to work.
“It’s just a little cold,” you assured him. “And anyway, I’ll keep my distance from others so no one else catches it.”
What? It took him a moment to process your words, but when he finally understood their meaning, he almost snorted with derision. He could not have cared less about other humans getting sick – that was not even remotely a concern he had. What he cared about was you.
“I’m worried about you,” he clarified, reaching out slowly to rest his hands on your shoulders, underlining his point. When he met your gaze, the look in your eyes was so soft it was nearly making him ache.
“Thank you for worrying,” you said quietly, “but I’ll be just fine.”
“Carlisle is coming to assess your condition.” The words leapt from his mouth before he could stop them. He bit back a grimace at his own awkwardness. When he dared to look at you again though, your features were practically radiating warmth, filled with such genuine understanding that Alistair feared he might fall to his knees.
“It was so thoughtful of you to ask him to come,” you murmured, reaching one hand up to rest over where one of his was still clasped lightly over your shoulder. Your palm felt like a sunbeam against his cold skin that was only slowly becoming familiar with touch again. He stared fixedly at the place where your hand met his, the amazement that he always felt when you touched him with such gentle affection bubbling up in his chest again. He struggled to get his thoughts back in order.
“How about…” you started, bringing his eyes back to your face, “if Carlisle says I’m well enough to go to work, then I do, but if he says I’m not, then I’ll stay?”
Alistair really wanted you to stay either way, but your logic was sound. He nodded in agreement, and you offered him a beaming smile that shone on him like sunlight.
“Now can I get up to go get ready so Carlisle doesn’t think I’m a complete mess?” you asked, a little current of teasing sparkling through your voice. Alistair realized his hands were still resting on your shoulders, and he lifted them immediately, stepping back to let you get up.
You stood then and moved past him, brushing your hand softly against his as you did, the action clearly intentional. You were always so conscientious of his unfamiliarity with touch, making sure that your gestures didn’t become overwhelming for him while still expressing your affection. He wasn’t certain what he had ever done to deserve such attentiveness and care, but he knew he wanted to return it to your a hundredfold.
When you had retreated to the bathroom to make your preparations for the day, Alistair moved to the kitchen. There was only one thing he could trust himself to make without incident, and that was tea. He had no intuition at all for the proper preparation of human food, even though he often watched with rapt curiosity as you constructed your meals, but he could certainly manage putting water into a kettle, bringing it to a boil, and pouring it over a teabag. In all honesty, even that had taken him a little while to learn, but as soon as you explained how the strange electric kettle worked and how he would know when it was done, he had been able to make tea for you quite easily.
He followed the familiar procedure as he listened idly to the noises of the street outside, waiting for the sound of Carlisle’s car. He fussed with your collection of tea for a while, unsure which one to choose, until he saw one that promoted healing benefits. He wasn’t sure he believed it entirely, but it certainly couldn’t hurt. He placed the bag in a mug and watched the birds flutter past the window as he waited for the water to come to a boil. As soon as you had learned of his affinity for birds, you had bought him a birdfeeder to draw more of them into the area as a surprise gift for the day he had told you was his birthday even though he didn’t truly remember what day it was. He had been so moved by your thoughtful gesture that he had sat in unmoving silence for long enough that you had almost started to second guess yourself, when he had really been attempting to process the enormity of his gratitude for your kindness – and also just for you. But then he had been able to somewhat stumblingly reassure you that he loved it.
A quarrel of sparrows had just been startled from the feeder, and he could almost feel the vibrations of their rapidly beating wings as they took off in a scattered cloud. Then the kettle indicated that it was done, and Alistair turned his attention to pouring the hot water into the mug. He also pulled your container of honey from the cabinet where you kept it and set that along with a spoon next to the steaming tea.
He sensed your movements shift as you finished your preparations in the bathroom and made your way to join him in the kitchen. Heavens, you looked wonderful. A familiar spark of awe flickered to life inside of him at the knowledge that he had finally found someone he genuinely enjoyed spending time with – someone that he loved, although he had not yet been able to admit that to you aloud – and that you seemed to feel the same about him. The warm, quiet domesticity of it was a far cry from his solitary, often anxiety-laced wanderings, and while he still didn’t mind being alone – he was the only company he had had for so long, after all – there was something about being with you that made him feel more centered than he had in centuries.
You offered him a treasured smile and he shook himself from his slightly awestruck daze to dash forward and pull out your chair for you just before you had reached it. You responded with an appreciative ‘thank you’ and looked up at him with an achingly soft smile as he hovered near your side.
“Can I get you something for breakfast?” he asked. It was certainly far beyond his capacity to actually make you anything, but he could locate any ingredients you might need. Plus, sometimes you ate pre-prepared things from boxes, most of which he would recognize if you described them to him.
“I think I’m just going to pick up some doughnuts on the way to work as a little pick-me-up,” you responded as you swirled honey into your tea. Alistair could hear just the slightest rasp to your voice, which instantly reignited the panic that had momentarily faded from his thoughts. And you said you needed a ‘pick-me-up.’ He wasn’t sure exactly what that phrase meant, but he could intuit that you might be referring to a special treat that would make you feel better. His panic grew slightly. Were you feeling worse than you had told him?
Before he could ask you though, he heard Carlisle’s car pull up outside and instantly snapped his attention to the door. You followed his gaze, making a motion as though to stand, put he placed a gentle hand lightly on your shoulder, stopping the movement.
“I can get it,” he assured you quietly before dashing to the door, opening it just as Carlisle reached it. Carlisle’s expression was not at all surprised – he had certainly heard Alistair approach.
Alistair stepped aside so that the doctor could enter, and Carlisle ducked his head slightly in acknowledgement. Even though Alistair had hoped you might remain sitting and continue to drink your tea, you had appeared at the entrance of the kitchen to greet Carlisle as well.
“Thank you for coming by, Carlisle,” you said brightly.
“Of course – I’m always happy to help,” he responded with his usual warmth, moving at a very human pace to join you in the kitchen. That was something Alistair still struggled with. He found himself often falling back into his supernatural speed unless he was being intentionally cognizant to move slowly. He supposed that Carlisle had a few hundred years more experience at it than he did.
“I don’t think it’s anything serious,” you told Carlisle as you offered him the chair next to yours and sank back down to sit.
“Always better to check though,” he commented with a smile, casting the minutest glance at Alistair before sitting down and beginning to pull a few things from the medical bag that he carried.
Alistair remained standing, watching intently as Carlisle began his examination, reaching to press his fingers to your throat. The sight momentarily ignited a deep, visceral protective urge within him, tensing all the muscles in his body, but he stifled the growl in his throat, reasoning with his more reactive instincts that Carlisle would never hurt you. In fact, he was likely the only other vampire Alistair would ever trust to touch you.
As Carlisle continued his work, performing a few small tests and asking you questions, Alistair’s latent anxiety became too much for him to remain standing still, and he began flitting around the room, needing to do something with the excess energy spooling inside of him as he waited for Carlisle’s verdict. After a moment, Carlisle spoke, but not to you this time.
“Alistair, I believe you’re distracting my patient.” There was a light amusement in Carlisle’s tone as his golden eyes found Alistair in his latest location near the sink. If he could be good humored about the situation, then he must not be finding anything too wrong with you. Alistair flew back to your side.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“It’s fine,” you responded quietly, extending your hand slightly, an invitation for him to take your fingers in his, which he did readily. “I just don’t want you to worry.” He squeezed your hand lightly to reassure you, making sure the pressure was incredibly light. He was painfully aware that even just the slightest exertion of force on his part could easily snap and shatter the delicate bones of your fingers.
“I’ll worry less when I hear Carlisle’s assessment of your condition.” He flicked his eyes to the doctor, who was returning his things to the bag.
“I agree that I don’t think the illness is anything serious,” Carlisle concluded. Alistair felt some of the tension release from his body.
“But if there are new or worsening symptoms,” he continued as he stood, “you know where to find me.” He accented this last statement with a little nod to Alistair, who echoed the gesture.
“Thank you again, Carlisle,” you said as you rose to walk him to the door. Thankfully, you didn’t drop your hand away from where it still rested in Alistair’s gentle grasp. Holding your hand was a manageable and enjoyable gesture of affection that Alistair was quite comfortable with by this point.
Carlisle departed with a wave and a reassuring smile aimed at Alistair. As soon as he was gone, you needed to collect your things for work. Even though Alistair still would have preferred if you stayed home, he understood that Carlisle had essentially cleared you. As you stepped out the door, you promised him – at his insistence – that you would return home immediately if you began feeling worse. Then you had leaned in slowly, letting him anticipate your action, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. The sunburst of beloved warmth it ignited there was still glowing even after you had left. He realized too late that he had certainly not reacted in the proper way, going instantly still as he processed the exquisite feeling of your lips on his skin, still trying to acclimate himself to the cherished sensation. When he had finally broken himself from his enchanted stupor, you were already almost gone, but he offered you an awkward wave nonetheless that you rewarded with a beaming smile before you departed.
a thought: Alistair loves falcons, right? He kept them as a human but they flew away in fright when he was turned, and since then he's only watched from afar, wishing and wanting.
So what if his mate is a shapeshifter and she's a falcon?
It starts with the biggest peregrine falcon he's ever seen. She's beautiful (he can tell she's female), fast and viciously elegant in flight, but even stranger...she allows Alistair to get close to her.
He's never seen anything like that.
The falcon is always following him, wherever he goes, even racing him (he's certain that's what she's doing) and keeping up with a vampire. But she comes close often, allowing Alistair to touch her and talk to her. He likes talking to her, feeling closer to this bird then he has to anyone else in centuries.
And Y/N likes listening to him.
She's been worried for years that finding her mate (her culture's term for an imprint) would mean giving up shifting. No immortality, no power, no flying ever again, how is that a happy ending? It feels more like getting her wings clipped. So when she found Alistair in the Canadian forest one night, she feared the worst...
Until Y/N realized that he wasn't human, nor was he shifter.
He was something else and she loved him at once, flying around and following him for ages...until Carlisle and Edward stumble upon them in BD and Edward accidentally spills the secret. He clocked the giant falcon watching them from the trees as a shifter right away and, mistakenly, asked Alistair to "bring your companion to meet the other shapeshifters. Perhaps she can help."
And Alistair is like..."what???"
Cue him being confused and Y/N cussing out Ed in her head for ruining everything before taking off. Alistair does go with them but, when he leaves later in BD, he goes looking for Y/N (the dude's a tracker, she can't hide from him). Finding her in the first he's ever seen her human form and he just thinks she's so pretty.
So, Alistair gets a mate and a falcon in one form.
Y/N gets a mate, one who loves her in both forms and lets her keep flying.
And they get a happily ever after, two nomads in love, wandering and loving forever and ever.
Could I request for (Ever after high) Alistair x male reader that is twins with Kitty?
M!reader is a playful, independent, flirty and can be really mean, he loves causing mischief, he directly follows in Cheshire's foot steps.
They at first don't like each other considering how rude reader is but after time they start liking each other (maybe bc Alistair saves readers life or sm)
This is so cute, oh my gods
Alistair x M!Reader: Rivals
Warnings: Pure, cloud made fluff, Alistair being a cutie-patootie
Rating: SFW
(he looks so sassy)
You and Alistair have known each other since you were kids in Wonderland. And the both of you had hated each other. Alistair hated how mean you got with your pranks. Sure you were the son of the Cheshire Cat but you could have toned it down a bit at least. You hated Alistair for always having to ruin the mood and stand up against you. When you moved with your twin sister, Kitty, to Ever After High, you were thrilled having to never see his stupid face again. And during the first year or two, it was peaceful. Until, one year, Alistair just had to show his face with that stupid Bunny Blanc.
"Ugh, of all faces, it had to be you," You grumbled as you rolled your eyes.
"Still causing mischief or have you finally learned to be nice?" Alistair replied. You scoffed and turned your head away, not wanting to look at his stupid face. His stupid, yet pretty face. Woah! What were you thinking?! You hate Alistair! Why are you thinking romantic thoughts about him? Throughout the next few weeks saving Wonderland, your mind continued to think about Alistair and how pretty and handsome he actually was. But your distracted mind nearly cost you your life when Courtly Jester fired a spell at your direction. Thankfully, you were quickly pushed out of the way by none of than your rival, Alistair. The two of you rolled to the side and you found him on top of you.
"Uh, s-sorry," Alistair said with a blush.
"Don't be," you replied and then pulled him into a kiss, much to his and everyone else's surprise. The two were then rudely interrupted when Raven signed the Book of Destiny and began fighting Courtly. After Raven had won, Wonderland was now saved. As you and your friends were heading back to Ever After, Alistair stopped you by gently grabbing your wrist.
"I um...I love you," he said with a blush. You blushed as well but gently placed a kiss on his cheek.
"I love you too," you said.
"Promise you'll visit?"
"I will if you visit Ever After." Alistair smiled and nodded before giving you a soft kiss on your lips.
"I'll see you then," he said. You nodded and headed back to Ever After with everyone else, smiling at the mental image of you and Alistair kissing.
