#xoc

[ratz4za]

When your little half brother steal all the attention from the girls you liked:

Either a lazy sketch or a wip,hmm i dunnnoooo. (+Oc as well) I got so jealous of my little brother getting all the attention from my girl-friends irl so if i get to go through that, Wirt should too. And to him, it'll be Sara and Marnie (my oc).

Og pic below:

[ambroziadelphine]

Mother Nature's child *Season 1*

(Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes)

Marvel Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17 *Season Finally!!*

[mikoally]

Before You; Chapter Two

A/N: Welcome to Chapter Two! There's not much Harley and Melissa interaction this chapter, but hopefully next chapter will make up for it! Also, if you spot any inconsistencies with the story, please tell me! When writing the Playcare section, I completely forgot Stella and Melissa already met...but I think I fixed it!

Word Count: 3.1k

The next day, Harley and a group of scientists were deep in the labs of Playtime Co, testing out the new formula Harley had brought up to them earlier that same day. Their test subject was sitting alone in an observation room, the colorful padded walls surrounding it at every angle. The red gas slowly seeped into the room through various different ventilation systems, curling around the subject’s limbs. Harley watched closely, clipboard in hand, and observed for any changes in the subject's behavior.

They became drowsy instantly, slumping over to lie on the ground. The scribbling of pens surrounded him, each scientist anxiously anticipating the patient's next move. Its eyes slowly blinked, each one lasting longer than the previous. Until it fell asleep. “Now we just wait to see what reaction the patient has.” Doctor White mumbled, pen scratching the paper as he jotted down his observations so far. “The subject fell asleep quicker than when exposed to the previous rendition of Poppy Gas.” Another pointed out. “Say, where did you get this new formula, Doctor Sawyer?” The ravenette remained silent, providing no answer. “He had to of come up with it himself.”

A higher pitched voice scoffed. “He came up with the last one.” In the observation room, the subject began to twitch. “The last formula had severe drawbacks though. This one apparently has none.” Harley’s eyes narrowed as the experiment rolled over, restless in their induced slumber.

“And that makes you believe someone else came up with the new formula?”

“Obviously the Doctor learned from his mistakes."

“Look at the subject.”

“I’m not saying he hasn’t, but he only just came out with the old formula a couple weeks ago.”

“So he might’ve stayed after hours to work on this new formula.”

“Is it having a seizure?”

“We didn’t even finish testing the old formula!”

“What’s happening to the subject?”

“Write this down! Write it down!”

Harley watched as the subject spasmed in its place, limbs flopping around wildly. Its eyes rolled into the back of its head, form trembling violently. All clear signs of a seizure. The man ignored the bickering going on in the background, writing down the symptoms quickly. But soon after the seizure started, it ended just as quickly. The group of scientists stared in confusion as the subject rested peacefully, its body moving only when it breathed. “What..?” A female muttered, staring at the experiment, perplexed. “Does this happen with all subjects?” Another inquired. Murmurs and whispered questions floated around the Doctor, but he paid them little attention. Hm..

He observed the experiment carefully, a smirk coming over his face. Well, well, little scientist. He chuckled quietly. It seems as though you have more to offer than I originally thought. Glancing down at his notes once, the Doctor looked back up to see if there was anything he’d missed. “Doctor Asher, go and take the subject's temperature.” He ordered. “We must know all the variables.” The male nodded, quickly grabbing a thermometer and skittering into the room, doing as he was told. Harley turned away, walking over to the phone that was stationed on the wall nearby. He picked it up, dialing a number that was more muscle memory now. The device rang a few times before a click sounded, implying the receiver of the call had picked up.

“Leith Pierre speaking.” “Leith, I believe that the new scientist you’ve hired has more potential than originally thought.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

When Melissa arrived at the factory, Doctor Sawyer was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t in his office, where she’d been instructed to go every morning when she arrived. So after setting her things down, she exited the room in search of a higher authority power that could instruct her on what she’d be doing in the meantime. Melissa never liked sitting still for too long. She’d get anxious, her hands itching to grab something to fiddle with. Her mind would fixate on every little thing that could get her attention, questions firing rapidly like a gun squad. After a little bit of wandering around, she bumped into one of the daycare attendants. “Ah, hello! You’re a new face.”

The woman smiled, her southern accent prominent. “Yes, this is my second day at Playtime Co.” Melissa informed her, adjusting her blouse. “I see! What were you hired on as?” The caretaker eyed Melissa’s clothing inquisitively. Today the female wore yet another blouse with black pants. Before leaving yesterday she’d been given a company approved lab coat, being told to wear it from that day forward. So that was the addition to her outfit, her identification card sitting on her breast pocket. “I’m a researcher.” She said, The caretaker’s smile faltered for a moment, something like dread coating her eyes briefly before it was shaken away. “O–Oh.” She forced a grin on her face, clearing her throat.

“You look young. How old are you?”

“I’m 23, fresh out of college.”

“Oh, wow!” The attendant gasped. “Quite young.” She chuckled. “I’d say you're the youngest researcher we have here.” Melissa hummed, uncaring. “Who are you working under?” The questions appeared to be endless. Melissa was getting tired of this conversation. All she wanted was to be able to do some hands–on research. Just give her something unique, a clipboard, and a lab. That’s all she wanted in life. “Doctor Sawyer. Although I’m having difficulty finding him. Would you perhaps know where he is?” The caretaker froze momentarily, something that wasn’t missed by Melissa’s observant eyes. “Doctor Sawyer?” She chuckled nervously, disturbed by something that wasn’t known to Melissa as this current time. “He’s, um..” She fumbled for a response.

It would appear that the new employee didn’t yet know of the inhumane experiments happening here at Playtime Co. While the move seemed to be a little strange, the playcare attendant wasn’t one to question the higher ups. She simply kept her head down and did as she was told. “Doctor Sawyer is occupied with, um.. A research meeting.” She lied, although was it really a lie if he was technically researching in the depths below their feet? “Is he, now?” Melissa questioned, unconvinced. “Yes. If you’d like, you could follow me around until he’s free?” The dark-haired researcher tilted her head, weighing her options. On the one hand, I might be able to find out more about what this factory is hiding. On the other hand, I might not be around when Doctor Sawyer needs me.. Both of the choices sounded insufferably miserable. But if I did go with her, I wouldn’t just be standing around doing nothing. Sighing in defeat, Melissa agreed to shadow behind the playcare worker, resigning herself to an absolutely miserable fate. “I suppose I’ll follow behind you until I’m summoned.” She said, forcing a smile on her face.

“Fantastic! I was just about to wake the children for breakfast time.” The attendant grinned, walking toward an elevator labeled ‘STAFF ONLY’. “A lot of them are absolutely sweethearts.” She rambled, her motherly nature abundant as she spoke at length about the children she was in charge of. “A few are troubled, but during their time at Playcare, they’ve evolved beautifully.” Melissa barely listened as the worker, who had yet to introduce herself, excitedly talked about how wonderfully the children were growing.

“I’m sorry, I hate to interrupt, but I didn’t catch your name?” The attendant paused, as if only just realizing she failed to do the first thing required when meeting someone new for the first time. “Oh, my! I am so sorry! It completely slipped my mind!” The female flushed red, embarrassed by her mistake. “I’m Claire, Claire Harper. Nice to meet you!” She smiled at Melissa, who nodded her head. “Melissa Harvey.” The two of them walked into the Elevator, Claire hitting the button labeled ‘Playcare’ in small, neat script. “There’s two different ways to get down to Playcare. You can either use the elevator, which most staff do, or use the tram. We typically use the tram when transporting a group of kids or some parents who are looking to adopt a child.”

Claire explained, soft music playing over the loudspeaker. “Playcare, as I’m sure you’ve heard, has a school, a toy shop, a playhouse, and then the children’s home where the kids eat and sleep.” The elevator dinged as it came to a pause, the doors opening and revealing a group of scientists waiting. Claire and Melissa stepped aside to allow for them to come in. “The children have lessons at 12:30, but until then they’re free to do whatever they want! After their classes end at three, we take them to the game station to unwind for a bit before going back to Home Sweet Home and beginning the bedtime routine.” Hushed whispers floated around between the group of scientists. Melissa didn’t move a muscle, but her ears did tune into their conversation.

“Subject seemed alert during their brief window of conciousness.”

“It’s too early to deem the procedure a success.”

“Did you see the way the Bigger Body reacted to the new Poppy gas formula?”

“Shhh! Lower your voices!”

Melissa felt eyes on her back, but she didn’t turn around to acknowledge them. She only turned her head toward Claire and responded to something she had said, offering a tiny smile. “It sounds like you have a deep affection toward the kids.” Claire chuckled, sighing. “Yeah..I suppose I do.” She said, her voice trailing off toward the end as her mind wandered. Melissa was thankful for the break. ‘Subject’? She thought, mulling over the scientist's words from earlier. And a new Poppy Gas formula? Her mind raced with the different possibilities. Every little action from Playtime Co made her suspicions rise. Something didn’t feel right with the atmosphere, and she’d be damned if she didn’t figure it out before long.

“Ah, here we are!” Claire chirped as they arrived on Playcare’s floor. She and Melissa stepped out of the machine, leaving behind the scientists. It seemed they were in some sort of maintenance tunnel. “We have hallways like these all over the factory on the different levels. It makes it easier for staff to move around.” She explained, leading the researcher down a long tunnel. “This one leads to Home Sweet Home’s staff room, where the attendants and teachers leave through when the kids are asleep.” Melissa took in every detail, memorizing the pathways they’d taken and approximately how long the journey took one way. “Although I’m sure you won’t be down here often, it does get a little confusing.” The worker admitted, almost embarrassed. “I got lost several times my first year.”

I don’t care. Melissa was beginning to regret accompanying Claire on this journey. She felt like her ears were going to start bleeding at any second. “As you said, I’m sure I won’t have a need to come down here often. My work isn’t connected to childcare at all.” Claire faltered in her happy demeanor, chuckling nervously. “A–Ah, I guess.. You’re right.” She falls silent after that, which is a merciful blessing to Melissa. The two girls walk through the long tunnels until they eventually reach a door, which leads into a large and open room that resembles a staff room. “This is the staff room. Me and the other Playcare attendants usually come down here while the kids are in school or eating lunch.”

I have no clue why she’s giving me a tour. It’s not like I’m going to be down here much. But I do suppose it fills the time up until Doctor Sawyer summons me. Just then, a joyful tune rang out over the various different loudspeakers scattered around the orphanage site. Claire perked up, a smile gracing her features. “That would be the wake–up alarm!” She explained to the researcher, walking over to a flight of stairs tucked away in the corner. “Let’s go. The children will be waking up now.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Harley sat in an empty conference room across from the Head of Innovation himself, Leith Pierre. After their brief phone call earlier, Leith had suggested they meet privately to further discuss the matter at hand. In front of Leith were a few files, one of them opened onto the new Poppy Gas formula that Melissa had made. “You’re telling me that this little lady we only hired a day ago was able to rework this entire formula in less than a day and it was functional?” He reiterated the male’s previous words, looking up through his glasses. Harley nodded, leaning further into his chair. “Indeed. She was able to deduce what the problem was with our formula in a few minutes, whilst we have been struggling to figure out the issue for weeks.”

Leith breathed out a long breath, setting the file down and leaning far back in his chair, taking his glasses off to rub his face. “Christ.” He muttered. “So, what should we do? It’d be suspicious to suddenly promote her after only a day.” He explained, “and her mind is certainly useful to our cause.” Harley hummed. “I did tell her that if she performed well, more complicated tasks would be assigned to her. Perhaps in a few weeks we can move her position.” Leith nodded, agreeing. “That sounds reasonable. Should we introduce her to the Experiments?” Doctor Sawyer snapped his head to Leith, a bewildered look on his face. “Are you joking?” He asked, voice incredulous. Leith raised his hands in surrender. “We barely know the woman. I agree, she’s useful. But we’ve got no idea how this little researcher will react upon seeing what we’ve done here. I can only assume she’s already suspicious as to why a toy company would need scientists and researchers.”

Leith sighed, seeing the reason in Harley’s explanation. “We’re running low on funds, Sawyer.” He said, leaning his elbows on the table. “We need a new toy, and we need it to sell good.” Harley huffed. “Isn’t there a whole new line of toys in the making?” He inquired. “Yes, but those won’t be ready in time. We’re on the edge of bankruptcy here!” Leith threw his hands up in the air. “I’ve got no clue why you’re telling me. My specialty is not in making toys.” He raised a brow. Leith paused, dropping the topic. “Just put her mind to good use.” He ordered, looking Sawyer in the eye. “I’ll do as I see fit with my little apprenctice.” He grinned at Leith, who glared in return.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

It was around noon now, and the children had been taken to the game station for their bi–monthtly evaluations. Melissa was dragged along as well, lured by promises of Doctor Sawyer being there. Finally. She thought, walking onto the tram behind the other kids. I can escape. It was no secret that Melissa wasn’t fond of kids. She often found them to be loud, annoying, and most importantly, messy. Melissa wouldn’t call herself a cleanfreak or germaphobe, but she did appreciate when her space was clean and tidy. Claire had gotten on the other tram with another group of children, instructing Melissa to watch over the kids until Ms. Stella Greyber arrived.

Reluctantly, she had agreed. Where is Ms. Greyber at? She wondered, scanning the tram station for another adult. Around her, the kids were chatting about their last scores on the different games they had to play, expressing their excitement to play with P.J Pugapillar once more. “Miss?” one of the children tugged on her pant leg, drawing the young woman's attention. It was a little girl with curly brown hair and bright green eyes. “Yes?” Melissa responded, looking down at her expectantly. “I need to go potty.” The woman blinked. “Okay. So go.” She said. “Miss Claire always says we’re not allowed to go by ourselves if we’re leaving Playcare.”

Blanching, Melissa silently cursed the higher power that had stuck her in this situation. “Why—” She took a deep breath, calming her annoyance. “Alright. Fine. Give me a second to find Ms. Greyber, alright?” The child nodded, smiling brightly. She was missing a tooth. Looking around once more, Melissa spotted a female walking over to the trams. “Finally, you’re here.” She said, impatient. “I am. Apologies for the wait.” She smiled. “Not to worry. However, a child is in need of the restroom, so I will be accompanying her.” The little girl beside Melissa waved at Greyber, all bright and cheery.

“I see. The closest restrooms are in the Toy Shop.” Melissa thanked her for the information and grabbed the child's hand, leading her to the aforementioned store. “What’s your name?” The child questions, curious as a cat. “Melissa Harvey. However, call me Miss Melissa.” She informed the adolescent human. “Okay Miss Melissa! My name is Marie! Marie Harper!” This child is talkative. The woman thought, opening the Toy Shop door and letting the child go inside. “Quickly. We need to get to the Gamestation.” She instructed, watching as the child ogled the different toys and creations available. “Okay!” She skipped to the restroom, opening the door and slipping inside.

Melissa sighed, leaning against the wall across from the ladies room. Why did I agree to this again?

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Finally, they had reached the Gamestation. Children cheered in excitement, bouncing in place as they impatiently waited to get off the tram. Gamestation day was one of their favorites. It meant less school and more fun. They were allowed to play on the equipment while waiting for their turn to play one of the games, and if they did good enough, Mommy Long Legs would reward them with a piece of candy. Melissa observed the children as they ran off the tram, whoops and hollers filling the room. All of them went to one of the play structures littered about, beginning different games.

I’m a researcher working under Doctor Sawyer.”

She explained. “Claire just invited me along while the Doctor was occupied.” Stella hummed noncommittedly, pursing her lips. “So you work for Sawyer then?” She reiterated. “More or less, I suppose.” Melissa agreed. “I pity you.” She sighed. “Pity me? Why?” The ravenette turned her head to look at Greyber, waiting for her to elaborate. “Well, you know, he’s so cruel and arrogant.” She shivered. “And his eyes..they’re always calculating..observing.” Melissa raised a brow. “You seem to enjoy talking about him behind his back.” She stated. “Huh? What do you mean?” Stella questioned, confused. “Every time I’ve been alone with you and Doctor Sawyer comes up, you always have something to say about him.”

The woman blinked, frozen for a moment before snapping back to reality. “I–I don’t enjoy talking bad about him!” She defended herself. “I just..want to make sure you know what you're getting into..” her voice softened in concern, staring at the blank face of Melissa. “He’s harsh, especially on the new people.” Melissa, perhaps in some regard, could appreciate her warning. After all, she’d worked her longer and knew Sawyer better than Melissa did. But Melissa was also a grown woman who could make her own decisions. “I appreciate the concern, Ms. Greyber. But I think I’ll be just fine.” And she ended the conversation there. Stella sighed, feeling dejected.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

[viaram0]

Practicaa!! Bowser GIF

[bold-writing]

The One With Whiskey Eyes || 31 || Bound, Tethered, Held

Warnings: Mentions of Trauma

Words:

Previous || Next

~31~

Iris regretted not bringing her clothes with her to the bathroom, a recurring mistake she seemed to be making lately, but shivered her way back down the hall anyway as she raced on the balls of her feet—as though that was going to save her from the freezing cement floors. Pulling her clothes on quickly and wrapping her towel around her hair to help it dry, she scooped up her empty mug and padded her way toward the kitchen.

Patricia somehow had the uncanny ability to always know when food needed to be done. Even if she’d heard the shower finish, somehow this woman was able to have two bowls of oatmeal, still steaming hot, sitting in wait when Iris stepped into the kitchen. Patricia turned away from the fridge to smile at her, carrying the bottle of all-natural syrup and a bowl of fresh fruit to include in their oatmeal.

“I know you love cinnamon in yours,” she said in greeting, motioning to the bowl nearer to the door. “Is there anything else you’d like? Or another cup of tea?” Her eyes fell to the empty mug that Iris was still holding.

“Maybe just some water?” Iris requested instead, reaching to relieve her soulmate of their breakfast sides in exchange for the mug.

Taking up her seat with her back to the wall, Iris pulled her feet up to cross her legs and attempt to warm her chilled feet—even with socks on. She was already depositing a few of the berries into her oatmeal when Patricia joined her.

In short order, both were polishing off the last of their breakfast while maintaining slow, easy conversation. Patricia asked her how Hedwig had been the evening before, understanding how unruly he could be. Iris asked for the cooking instructions for a new pasta dish that she’s been wanting to try her hand at making. They discussed the book Iris was reading and Patricia’s favourite pastime.

Neither spoke of the upcoming session with Fletcher.

Iris finished the last few blueberries before the dishes were collected and deposited into the sink to soak for a few minutes. In the meantime, Patricia motioned for Iris to take her now unused seat while she picked up the brush and comb she used on her hair. “Would you like me to braid it back today?”

“Please,” she responded quietly, pulling the towel from her head gently and draping the damp material over the back of her vacated chair. “It’s nice to have it out of the way and I heard it’s supposed to be a windy one today.”

Patricia hummed in approval and pulled her hair back over the chair, so it wasn’t pinned when Iris leaned back, and began carefully brushing the ends. They had already begun to dry while wrapped in the towel. “Is there anything else you needed to do while you have the day off?” she asked softly, focusing on not snagging any knots after Iris’s shower. She smelled like the fruit they had been eating during breakfast, with a hint of something deeper. Likely an oil of some kind, considering how soft her hair currently felt. Felicia’s doing.

“Not that I can think of,” Iris breathed out in response, already enjoying the feeling of her hair being brushed. She was nowhere near her scalp, yet somehow it still made her skin tickle pleasantly. She had to fight to keep her head up. “I’m set for groceries, no appointments or such to worry about…guess it’s more of a free day.”

The brush moved a bit higher up her head, keeping the same slow, gentle pace.

“What about you? Anything you need to finish today? I’d be happy to help.”

“It seems with both have a quiet day on our hands.”

“How rare,” Iris teased with a smile, fighting the urge to lean her head back into her hands. “Anything you want to do while we have the free time?” The question came out timid, unsure. Iris wasn’t accustomed to being the one inviting someone to spend time. It felt like she was putting a limb out with the chance of it getting hurt. However, this was her soulmate. A soulmate who had raced over to her in the dead of night because she felt the panic from a consuming nightmare.

Patricia was silent for a moment, not helping with Iris’s minor anxiety. “Let’s see how the session goes first, hm? It can be more draining that one may think.”

Iris was momentarily surprised that Patricia was the one to first bring up their meeting with Fletcher. “I’ve never really met with a therapist before, aside from the time I first went to meet Dr. Fletcher. It definitely left me feeling…exposed.”

The rhythmic swipe of the brush stalled for a moment as a strong, though gentle, hand stroked slowly down her head. It was one of soothing comfort, and of unspoken understanding. “Some find relief in exposing such parts of themselves to another, to someone outside of our intimate circle, I have always found sessions with Dr. Fletcher exhausting.”

Reaching back, Iris caught Patricia’s wrist of the hand holding the brushed strands of her hair and held on loosely.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t feel comfortable with it, Patricia. No one’s research should ever come before your comfort.”

Patricia gazed down at Iris’s small hand, slim fingers contrasting sharply with the deep blue sweater she had selected to wear that morning. So very pale and delicate, like the petals of her namesake. It warmed her heart to hear the care and consideration, especially since she knew that Iris had thrown her own comfort to the wind for them already. She had raced through the cold night to get to Barry when she’d heard that he had been suffering.

Leaning down over her, Patricia placed a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of Iris’s soft, freshly brushed hair. Chilled and damp, smelling of fresh fruit. She wanted to bury herself in those strands. Seek comfort in them.

“Your heart is far too pure for this world, little one,” she whispered into the strands. “Thank you for your words. Let us try and see how we feel together.”

Iris’s answer came as a gentle squeeze of her wrist before she pulled her hand back.

Patricia placed the brush aside and took up the come, beginning the quick process of sectioning for the braid. She decided to go with a Dutch today, beginning at the top of Iris’s head to keep her face clear as well. Gently grasping Iris’s skull, she pulled her head back to the angle she needed.

“Have I told you the story of Hedwig stealing some of Barry’s markers and drawing on his face, knowing that Jelin had work the next day?”

Iris gasped in response, a lighter sound that had amusement laced within, and fought not to tip her head back to meet her eyes. “What? Please tell me it washed off?”

“Hmm,” Patricia hummed in taunt, only causing her smaller soulmate to smother a giggle.

Iris clocked the new name—Jelin—but kept it to the back of her mind. She knew what Patricia was doing, bringing levity back to their morning, and allowed herself to fall into the attempt happily. “Oh, no.” She smothered the laugh in her hand was she fought not to picture what her mate’s face must have looked like, drawn on with markers in a comical display. “Is that why he has locks on some of his drawers now?”

“Indeed. You’ll likely find similar locked drawers or cabinets in other rooms, our attempt at keeping his pranks at bay. Not always successfully.” She worked quickly and meticulously down along the braid, making sure the sections were even, and the braid went in a straight line down the back of her head. It needed to be perfect.

The attempt to smother her laugh made Iris snort, then blush brightly from the sound. “A troublemaking little brother.”

“That’s a much kinder description that Jelin provided when he saw his face in the mirror. Thankfully, before he left for work.”

A second snort escaped and Patricia smiled at the sound, typing off the end of the long, caramel braid. She loved the intertwining of chocolate and gold that wound through Iris’s hair; not brunette but not blonde; a beautiful mixture of the two. It looked brighter in sunlight, catching the golden strands and making them pop, but here in the kitchen it took on a much richer tone.

“You have such lovely hair,” she finally commented, stroking her thumb over the free strands at the end so as not to disrupt her work.

“Felicia did tell me it was soft, she kept wanting to pet me like a cat,” Iris laughed softly, remembering how she had basically done exactly that. Not that she was complaining.

“Indeed, it is,” Patricia confirmed. “But I meant the colour. Such a beautiful combination.”

Iris spoke without thinking, the words falling unbidden from her tongue. “My mother used to say it was the colour of dirty dishwater. She used to keep it so short, like a home-cut bob. Then one of my marks showed up at the back of my neck, so she let it grow out, to have a way of hiding it.”

The memory of the abrasive scrubbing on the back of her neck rose to the forefront of her mind. The burn of the water in her nose and throat.

The hitch of Patricia’s breath behind her caused an abrupt sinking feeling to swoop Iris’s stomach. Why had she said that? How had she let something like that slip free? Patricia had some uncanny way of getting her to reveal things her parents had done to her. It had started from the first night they had met—telling her about the scars, showing her the evidence. Perhaps she associated Patricia with a safe place in which to speak those truths.

She was waiting for the obligatory ‘no, that’s wrong. You’re beautiful’ that she imagined people would utter after hearing something like that. It never came.

“Your hair is a mixture of gold, like wheat in the sun in the peak of summer, and the softness of rich, melted chocolate. It makes me think of a dark caramel sauce, smooth and sweet. It is a gorgeous colour, changing in tone depending on the light. You look more blonde in the sunlight, the gold pops more.” Patricia’s hand wrapped around the braid right at the base of Iris’s skull, not too tight but enough that when she tugged, Iris’s head was pulled backward with the steady pressure.

Oh.

The blue of her eyes had an edge to them. A chill. Instinctively, Iris knew it was not directed at her.

Patricia held her gaze for a moment, making sure she had her little soulmate’s full attention. “Never fear telling me these things, these lies your parents fed you. I want to be sure I can tell you how wrong they were. Let me help you clear out their venom.”

The presence of glassy tears in her whiskey eyes had nothing to do with the pressure on her scalp. The gentle pull to the roots of her hair kept her grounded to the moment, maintaining the steady hold of Patricia’s blue gaze.

“I will,” she finally forced out around the tightening of her throat.

Releasing the braid, Patricia framed Iris’s upturned face and leant down to press a soothing kiss to her forehead. Eyes closing, the two basked in the quiet moment for several long seconds. When Patricia felt the touch of warm tears on her hands, she made no comment and simply swiped them away with her thumbs.

Separating from her soulmate, she let Iris relax her head down and take a moment to compose herself.

“I have found it helpful to have something to hold onto when I meet with Dr. Fletcher, saves you from fidgeting with nerves. How about we stop at the shop you and Barry like on the way and collect a warm tea?”

Iris offered a teary smile when she turned to look at her. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

Patricia didn’t put up a fight when Iris insisted on washing the dishes, since she had been the one to cook—simple of as the meal had been. So, she gave her little soulmate a moment to compose herself and went to freshen up and collect their coats.

Hands deep in the hot, soapy water gave Iris a minor distraction as she took a few shaky breaths to calm herself. She felt the disconcerting mix of being held tightly and unmoored all at once. Her hope was that Fletcher didn’t pick up on her loss of balance. Fresh and raw, rehashing the moment and it’s accompanying feelings would be entirely unwelcome.

She took deep, calming breaths while placing each cleaned dish on the drying rack to her right. The mundane task helped a bit, returning her to a basic routine without emotional complications.

Her scalp still tingled with the sensations of the brushing, braiding, and the pull.

Any calm she had obtained was nearly lost as her stomach seemed to twist with the memory of the pull on her braid. So gentle but commanding all the same. The feeling it had invoked shook her to her core. After what had been done to her with a hold on her hair as a means of control, she was shocked her body hadn’t immediately locked up in remembered fear.

Even on a base level, she seemed to know the safety of her soulmates.

How would it feel to have one of the others do the same?

Thankfully, Patricia hadn’t returned to watch as Iris’s face flushed a brilliant red and her jaw momentarily dropped open in shock at her own thoughts.

Pulling the plug on the sink and quickly rinsing everything, she forced herself to keep her focus entirely on the task and let the blood drain back out of her face. Thankfully, she was sure her face had returned to its normal colour when Patricia came back into the kitchen with both of their light spring coats draped over her arm.

The wool coat that Barry had complimented had been retired for the season, tucked safely in her closet.

“All set, dear?”

Far calmer, Iris flashed a smile and nodded. “If you are.” Polite and helpful as ever, Patricia helped her into her jacket—even pulling her braid out of the back—before she pulled on her own.

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[xoxorennaaeee]

BORN TO BURN SERIES

Series Summary: Eight years into his reign, Zuko has finally brought peace to the world—but peace is fragile, and the Fire Nation whispers louder with every passing day. Questions about succession plague the throne, while across the sea, the scandal-ridden Princess Saera Targaryen faces a far crueler fate: being forced into life as a septa to atone for her sins. The solution is as political as it is dangerous—a marriage between the Fire Lord and the infamous dragon princess. Saera is sharp-tongued, manipulative, and impossible to control; Zuko is exhausted from years of trying to rule honorably in a world that rewards ruthlessness. Their union is meant to silence dissent, restore the fractured alliance between the Fire Nation and the Seven Kingdoms, and secure both their futures. Nothing more. But court politics are deadlier than war. In a world where alliances are forged with blood and crowns are never secure, their marriage may either save two dynasties… or destroy them both. Pairing: Fire Lord! Zuko x fem! OC OC: Saera Targaryen Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender(ATLA) and House of the Dragon(HotD) WARNING!!! THIS CHAPTER MAY INCLUDE SPOILERS FOR THE HOTD TV SHOW AND FIRE AND BLOOD BY GRRM AS WELL AS SEXUAL INNUENDOS

word count: 3k

PREV CHAPTER: CHAPTER 2 - NEXT CHAPTER: CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 3: MASTER OF LAWS

The moment Princess Saera Targaryen learned her brother intended to consider the Fire Nation proposal seriously, she decided the Red Keep no longer deserved peace.

Not that it had possessed much peace before.

Still, Saera believed in commitment when it came to chaos.

“You are impossible,” Lady Jeyne muttered for perhaps the fifth time that morning.

Saera smiled serenely into the mirror while two exhausted handmaidens struggled with the sleeves of her gown. “And yet remarkably beloved despite it.”

“No one has ever described you as beloved.”

“That sounds like jealousy.”

“It sounds like accuracy.”

Saera laughed softly.

Sunlight poured through the windows of her chambers in molten gold, catching against silver hair cascading freely down her back while servants rushed around preparing her for court. The princess had intentionally selected red today—not soft crimson nor delicate wine silk, but violent dragon-red embroidered with black flames curling along the sleeves.

If Aegon wished to parade her before the court like some political offering, then she intended to make the experience deeply unpleasant for everyone involved.

Especially him.

“You are planning something,” Jeyne accused suddenly.

Saera widened innocent lilac eyes. “Would I do such a thing?”

“Yes.”

“That hurts.”

“It should.”

The princess grinned.

Truthfully, she had barely slept.

Anger still simmered hotly beneath her skin after yesterday’s argument with Aegon. Marriage. Dorne. The Faith. As though she were some embarrassing problem requiring disposal before she further damaged the crown.

Perhaps she had damaged it.

But so had every Targaryen alive.

The difference was merely that Saera enjoyed herself while doing it.

Her fingers drummed impatiently against the vanity table as servants finished pinning ruby-studded combs through her hair. Somewhere below the castle, the court already gathered for morning petitions while gossip spread faster than plague through the halls.

Princess Saera found in a knight’s bed.

Again.

Honestly, she thought the outrage felt excessive.

“Do you know anything about the Fire Lord?” she asked abruptly.

Jeyne blinked. “Only rumors.”

“Tell me.”

Lady Jeyne sighed with visible reluctance before settling into a nearby chair. Unlike most ladies at court, Jeyne no longer feared Saera’s moods after years of friendship surviving them.

“They say he defeated his own father,” she began carefully. “Ended a hundred-year war. Scarred. Temperamental. Honor obsessed.”

Saera wrinkled her nose.

“That sounds exhausting.”

“They also say he’s handsome.”

“That usually means emotionally damaged.”

Jeyne paused thoughtfully. “Considering he fought his sister, father, and half the world before becoming king, I imagine yes.”

Saera snorted.

Interesting.

Not appealing, certainly, but interesting.

Foreign kings rarely intrigued her. Most powerful men blurred together eventually—vain, grasping creatures desperate to possess beautiful things as proof of strength. Princes bored her, especially because they arrived already convinced women should adore them.

At least this Fire Lord sounded miserable enough to possess personality.

Still, she refused to be shipped across the world like decorative cargo.

And if Aegon wished to force her hand, then she would remind the realm precisely why Princess Saera Targaryen remained every courtier’s favorite nightmare.

The throne room buzzed with voices by midday.

Lords clustered beside pillars discussing trade and harvests while ladies whispered behind jeweled fans about scandals already weeks old. Courtiers drifted through the chamber dressed in velvets and silks bright enough to rival stained glass beneath sunlight streaming through towering windows.

Then Princess Saera arrived.

Conversation faltered almost immediately.

Heads turned.

Men stared.

Women judged.

Saera walked through all of it, smiling faintly like a dragon entering a sheep pasture.

Her gown clung scandalously close to her figure by court standards, all deep red silk and black embroidery cut daringly low across pale shoulders dusted with gold shimmer. Rubies glittered against her throat while silver hair flowed unbound nearly to her waist.

Several older ladies looked seconds from fainting.

Perfect.

“Gods preserve us,” muttered Lord Peake beneath his breath.

Saera heard him anyway.

“Unlikely,” she replied sweetly while passing.

Near the Iron Throne, King Aegon III already sat in grim silence, listening to petitions with the expression of a man enduring slow torture. Black velvet draped his lean frame while the simple golden circlet upon his pale hair caught cold morning light.

He noticed Saera instantly.

Unfortunately.

The king’s eyes narrowed slightly as she approached, undoubtedly recognizing the particular look upon her face. Saera only ever appeared pleased when disaster followed shortly afterward.

“Brother,” she greeted lightly while curtsying just enough to technically count.

“Saera.”

“You look dreadful.”

“You are late.”

“I was improving morale.”

Several nearby courtiers abruptly coughed.

Aegon ignored them with practiced exhaustion. “Sit down.”

“How commanding.”

“Saera.”

She smiled angelically before taking her seat beside the throne.

Petitions resumed afterward, though attention throughout the court remained hopelessly divided between the king and his sister. That happened often. Aegon carried stillness like winter frost while Saera burned beside him bright and dangerous as wildfire itself.

Together, they unsettled people.

The first true problem arrived an hour later.

A young lord from the Reach approached the throne seeking judgment regarding disputed lands near Bitterbridge. He was handsome in a forgettable sort of way with golden curls and entirely too much confidence.

Unfortunately for him, Saera looked bored.

“My king,” the young lord began smoothly, bowing deeply before Aegon. “I seek royal arbitration regarding lands unlawfully claimed by House Caswell.”

Aegon nodded once. “Proceed.”

The lord launched immediately into an aggressively tedious explanation involving borders, sheep, and ancestral rights nobody cared about except other lords equally obsessed with sheep.

Saera lasted perhaps three minutes before interrupting.

“You are lying.”

The entire court froze.

The young lord blinked rapidly. “Your Grace?”

“You moved the border stones yourself,” Saera continued casually. “You merely hoped House Caswell would lack evidence.”

Silence expanded catastrophically.

Aegon slowly closed his eyes.

The lord flushed crimson. “That accusation is outrageous.”

“Is it?” Saera tilted her head thoughtfully. “Then why did you pay gold to three hedge knights near Rosby last moon?”

The man went pale.

Around the throne room, whispers erupted instantly.

Aegon looked profoundly exhausted already. “Saera.”

“What?” she asked innocently. “I chaired Master of Laws hearings for two years during your regency. Men become remarkably careless around pretty women.”

That much proved horrifyingly true.

Before becoming too scandalous even for politics, Princess Saera had briefly served as acting Mistress of Laws during the chaos following the Dance. Most expected frivolity from her.

Instead, they received competence.

Terrifying competence.

Saera possessed an unsettling talent for reading people, untangling lies, and discovering precisely where powerful men buried ugly truths. She treated legal hearings like entertainment and destroyed corrupt lords with smiling efficiency sharp enough to make seasoned politicians fear her.

Unfortunately she also seduced at least two royal clerks during that period, which complicated her reputation considerably.

The young Reach lord sputtered helplessly now beneath court scrutiny.

Aegon stared at him. “Is my sister correct?”

“No, Your Grace.”

Saera laughed softly. “He bribed Ser Moryn Waters specifically. Ask him about the silver brooch shaped like grapes.”

The lord looked moments from vomiting.

Aegon sighed deeply enough to suggest spiritual exhaustion. “Lord Rowan will investigate the matter.”

The disgraced lord retreated rapidly afterward while whispers spread through the court like wildfire, catching dry grass.

Saera leaned lazily against her chair.

“You embarrassed him deliberately,” Aegon murmured.

“He bored me deliberately.”

“You cannot terrorize petitioners.”

“I absolutely can.”

The king pinched the bridge of his nose.

Several hours later, matters worsened considerably.

Because Saera decided that flirting with foreign envoys would further her goals magnificently.

The envoys from Pentos never stood a chance.

One moment, they discussed trade agreements politely near the throne. The next, Princess Saera descended upon them, smiling like a beautiful catastrophe wrapped in silk and rubies.

“My lords,” she purred gracefully. “Surely Westeros has not bored you entirely already.”

The eldest envoy nearly forgot language.

Aegon watched from the throne with growing horror.

Within minutes, Saera had maneuvered the envoys into laughter while courtiers stared openly at the spectacle unfolding before them. She touched arms lightly while speaking, leaned close enough for perfume to distract rational thought, and smiled with calculated warmth that made intelligent men catastrophically stupid.

The Pentoshi were doomed immediately.

“You flatter us, princess,” one envoy said weakly.

“Do I?” Saera tilted her head. “I had not begun trying yet.”

Across the throne room, Aegon looked dead inside.

Lord Rowan quietly approached the king. “Should someone intervene?”

Aegon stared blankly ahead. “And say what exactly?”

Fair point.

The disaster escalated further when Saera casually invited the envoys to attend evening feasts within her private gardens later that week.

Half the court nearly choked.

The other half looked jealous.

“Princess,” Aegon interrupted sharply before matters deteriorated beyond salvation. “A word.”

Saera turned slowly toward the throne.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Now.”

She sighed dramatically before gliding toward him beneath hundreds of watching eyes. Even furious, Aegon remained quieter than most men, though people familiar with the king recognized danger in that stillness.

“You are causing a scene,” he said under his breath.

“I am being diplomatic.”

“You nearly proposed marriage to a Pentoshi merchant.”

“He had lovely eyelashes.”

Aegon looked briefly tempted to abdicate.

“You will stop this nonsense.”

“Or what?” Saera asked sweetly.

His eyes darkened immediately.

The resemblance between them showed strongest during moments like this. Same silver hair. Same Valyrian beauty sharpened into something dangerous. Yet where Saera burned hot and reckless, Aegon froze cold enough to kill quietly.

“Do not test me today,” he said softly.

For one brief moment, genuine tension sparked between them.

Then Saera smiled again.

“As you command, Your Grace.”

Aegon clearly trusted that answer absolutely zero percent.

Correctly.

By evening, half the court buzzed with renewed scandal while the other half placed wagers regarding which foreign envoy Princess Saera would ruin first. Servants rushed through corridors carrying gossip faster than ravens while musicians prepared for supper in the great hall.

And Saera prepared her masterpiece.

“You cannot possibly wear that,” Lady Jeyne whispered in horror.

Saera examined herself approvingly in the mirror.

“Oh, I absolutely can.”

The gown was silver this time.

Not soft silver nor modest silver. Liquid moonlight clung scandalously against her figure with sheer sleeves embroidered in tiny black dragons curling down pale skin. The neckline plunged daringly low while the skirts split enough to reveal glimpses of her legs whenever she walked.

Jeyne looked ready for prayer.

“Aegon may actually murder you.”

“That would create paperwork.”

“You enjoy provoking him far too much.”

Saera smiled faintly.

Maybe she did.

But beneath the games and mockery lingered anger still raw from yesterday’s argument. Aegon wished to send her away because he believed she was unhappy, destructive, and impossible to save.

And perhaps she was all those things.

Yet part of her remained furious he’d looked at her with pity while speaking of family like something they could rebuild after dragons devoured it whole.

Saera did not want to be fixed.

Especially not through marriage.

The feast that evening glittered with candlelight and music echoing across the great hall. Lords drank heavily while ladies displayed jewels worth small castles, and servants moved endlessly between tables carrying roasted meats dripping with herbs and honey.

Then Princess Saera entered.

The conversation collapsed entirely.

Even musicians faltered briefly.

“Oh dear gods,” muttered Lord Celtigar.

Aegon looked upward slowly from the high table and visibly regretted remaining alive.

Saera smiled brilliantly before taking her seat beside him.

“You are overdressed,” the king said flatly.

“You are underdressed.”

“You appear halfway to naked.”

“You sound jealous.”

Aegon drank wine immediately after that, which honestly answered enough.

The feast descended into catastrophe within the hour.

Not because Saera intended seduction tonight.

No.

Tonight, she intended war.

“My king,” Lord Peake began cautiously from lower tables. “Regarding the Fire Nation proposal—”

Several nobles immediately leaned closer.

Aegon’s expression shuttered at once. “What about it?”

“There are concerns regarding distance,” Peake continued. “Surely Dorne offers a more practical alliance.”

Saera perked up instantly.

“I would rather swallow wildfire.”

The hall fell silent.

Lord Peake looked deeply unfortunate. “Princess, Dorne is wealthy and powerful.”

“So are poxes.”

Several younger knights snorted wine through their noses.

Aegon closed his eyes briefly.

“Princess Saera,” another lord ventured carefully, “the Fire Nation is rather… foreign.”

“How observant.”

“They are warriors.”

“We survived the Dance. I think I can manage one scarred fire king.”

The wording caught attention immediately.

Aegon’s eyes narrowed faintly. “You know about the scar?”

“Court gossip travels quickly.”

Truthfully, she’d asked servants for details earlier out of curiosity. Fire Lord Zuko fascinated people strangely. Merchants spoke of him with equal parts admiration and apprehension.

A prince exiled by his own father.

A son who overthrew a tyrant.

A ruler trying desperately not to become monstrous himself.

Saera understood damaged royalty better than most.

“He sounds gloomy,” she continued thoughtfully. “Perhaps we would suit.”

Aegon stared at her suspiciously because she sounded entirely too amused.

“You hate the proposal,” he reminded carefully.

“I hate being told what to do,” Saera corrected. “There is a difference.”

That, unfortunately, was true.

The feast might have survived afterward had wine not entered the situation more aggressively.

It was near midnight when disaster truly bloomed.

A musician began playing a lively Dornish tune while dancers filled the center floor laughing beneath golden chandeliers. Nobles clapped along drunkenly as servants carried more wine through increasingly chaotic crowds.

Then Saera rose from her chair.

Aegon immediately sensed danger.

“Sit down,” he warned quietly.

“No.”

“Saera.”

Too late.

The princess swept directly onto the dance floor and selected the youngest, handsomest knight present before spinning gracefully into dance with enough dramatic flair to scandalize half the room instantly.

The knight looked seconds from religious awakening.

“She does this deliberately,” Lord Rowan muttered.

“Yes,” Aegon replied tonelessly. “I know.”

Saera danced beautifully.

That remained part of the problem.

Silver skirts flashed beneath candlelight while silver hair spun like molten moonlight around her laughing face. She moved recklessly, joyfully, with none of the restraint expected from royal women raised beneath suffocating expectations.

People watched because they could not help it.

Aegon watched because he feared what came next.

Correctly again.

Mid-dance, Saera abruptly stole the knight’s dagger.

The music screeched into silence.

Several guards half-drew swords.

Saera merely laughed before balancing the dagger elegantly against one fingertip. “Relax. If I intended murder, I would choose someone more interesting.”

The knight appeared deeply in love already.

“Princess,” Aegon said dangerously.

She ignored him entirely.

Instead, Saera climbed atop one of the feast tables with impossible grace while nobles stared upward in collective horror. Goblets rattled as she crossed directly through elaborate centerpieces like some beautiful menace escaped from legend.

“You all look terribly frightened,” she observed brightly.

Nobody answered.

Saera smiled wider.

“Good.”

Then, before anyone could stop her, Princess Saera Targaryen hurled the dagger directly into the enormous painted map hanging behind the high table.

The blade struck precisely through the distant painted coastline labeled THE FIRE NATION.

Silence crashed across the hall.

Every eye turned slowly toward the embedded dagger quivering against the map.

Then toward Saera.

Then toward the king.

Aegon looked profoundly tired.

“What,” he asked with terrifying calm, “was that supposed to mean?”

Saera tilted her head thoughtfully from atop the table.

“Perhaps,” she said lightly, “I merely wished to see whether destiny frightens easily.”

The hall remained utterly silent.

Aegon stared at his sister for a very long moment before finally rising from the throne table. Black velvet fell around him like mourning shadows while every courtier instinctively stepped aside from his path.

“Everyone leave,” the king ordered softly.

Nobody hesitated.

Within moments, the great hall emptied in panicked waves, abandoning wine, music, and half-finished meals alike until only the siblings remained beneath flickering candlelight and the painted map still trembling from Saera’s dagger.

The princess slowly stepped down from the table.

“You are angry,” she observed.

Aegon laughed once without humor.

“You humiliated foreign envoys, exposed lords during court, danced on tables, and threw steel at diplomatic negotiations.”

“When you say it like that—”

“Why?”

The single word stopped her.

Aegon rarely sounded emotional. Usually, his voice remained flat with exhaustion or quiet restraint. But now something sharper cut beneath the question.

Why?

Why destroy everything around her before it could leave first?

Saera looked away briefly.

“Because I am angry,” she admitted at last.

Aegon’s expression shifted slightly.

“At me?”

“At everyone.”

Silence lingered.

Finally, the king approached the map slowly before yanking the dagger free from the painted Fire Nation coastline. He studied the blade for a moment beneath candlelight.

“You are afraid,” he said quietly.

Saera’s eyes flashed immediately. “I fear nothing.”

“That is a lie.”

She hated it when he sounded certain.

Aegon turned toward her then, pale and solemn beneath dancing shadows. “You think marriage means abandonment.”

The words struck too accurately.

“You would know much about abandonment,” she snapped defensively.

Pain flickered briefly across his face.

Instant regret twisted sharply in her chest afterward, though pride prevented apology from forming. Mentioning Viserys always wounded him. The guilt remained carved permanently into Aegon’s soul after losing his brother during the Dance.

Still, he did not lash out.

“I am trying to help you,” he said softly.

Saera laughed bitterly. “By sending me across the world?”

“By giving you the chance for something more than this.”

She folded her arms tightly.

“And if I do not want more?”

Aegon looked at her sadly then.

“That,” he replied, “is what frightens me most.”

Neither spoke afterward.

Beyond the hall windows, King’s Landing glittered beneath midnight while somewhere far across dark oceans, another dragon king unknowingly drifted closer toward the storm waiting for him in Westeros.

And for the first time since hearing his name, Princess Saera wondered what sort of man would willingly survive fire only to choose ruling afterward.

Because she understood surviving.

But choosing to continue afterward?

That sounded far more difficult.

tags: @reivelmin @thegreatfandomcollector @xoxoangellll @clairealeehelsing @caitm1 @maee67

[braveclementine]

Gonna Give All My Secrets Aw-a-ay

Warnings: 18+readersonly, smut, fingering, breast worship, pet names

Copyright: I do not own any Twilight characters or locations. I do own Davina Mikelson and Marcel. I also own the backstory for my OC. I do not condone any copying of this.

Davina P.O.V.

Birds are annoying. I mean, seriously. When you're trying to sleep and they're just going "Cheerp cheerp! CHEERP CHEERP!" Honestly, it sounds like they're screaming.

The pain had been immense, the way I imagined being a vampire and being set on fire must feel. You know, if you're set on fire alive. They weren't kidding when they said becoming a vampire was painful.

I much preferred the vampire diary way. Drink some vampire blood. Snap your neck. Ba bam- you're a vampire.

I wondered how long it was exactly that I was out. I knew it ranged anywhere between two to five days, depending on where the venom was injected and lots of other lovely factors. The stronger the heart, the shorter the time. And if the venom was injected into the heart or near it, then it was more on the two to three day side.

Of course, the ending brought tears that couldn't spill to my eyes. Watching memories. I could see everything that had ever happened in my life play backwards. From the pain, to the wedding, the Marcel's changing, to the newborn fight, to spying on Seattle, to being in Kentucky with some of my family, finding out I was a werewolf, Sam's sister, and then there was Laurent trying to kill me, Edward telling me about them leaving, being in the hospital because of James, coming to Forks, the last few years of working to get a plane ticket, the bombs going off, Azim and I kissing, Azim and I laughing, meeting Azim's parents, going to gymnastics meets and Tae Kwon Do competitions, learning military strategy, moving to the base, being back in Forks, running around with Paul and Sam, swimming in the ocean, Kol's birth, Josh arguing with Sam's mother, a four year old playdate with Tyler Crawley, and then being born in a hospital.

My eyes snapped open. The pain was gone. Good. It felt like I had been burning for years.

The first thing I heard were birds and I almost groaned in annoyance. But I could also hear squirrels crunching on nuts, rabbits sprinting through the forest, a mountain lion- or maybe a bear but it definitely had hunting feet- walking over stone and rock, the violent flapping of hummingbird wings.

Feeling wise, I could feel the soft fabric of the sheets beneath me. Soft, fluffy, and warm. I could also feel that I was wearing something made of silk, but I didn't move my head to look down quite yet.

As for the smells. . . I could smell so many different smells. There was cinnamon, hyacinth, pear, sourdough bread, pine, vanilla, leather, apple, moss, lavender, chocolate, lemon and lime, tomato sauce, almonds-ew-, roses, jasmine, lilies, plastic, and so many other different smells. The strongest smell was seawater.

I took in a shuddering breath, feeling the air move through my lungs, but not really. I looked around the room. The ceiling was white, dust motes flying in the air. I could read the titles of all the books on the shelf across the room.

I sat up slowly, moving my legs over to the side of the bed, getting to my feet. I caught sight of myself in the mirror and stared in horror at the red eyes. My dark hair and pale complexion gave me a Snow White complexion. I was just missing the blue eyes.

I had been lucky with my complexion though. I had been captured in a mid-tan state, my dark skin coming out only after being in the sun for long periods of hours. I now looked Half-Cullen like, Half- Quileute like and I loved it.

I pursed my lips at the choice of dress Alice had clearly dressed me in. It was a green colour that balanced out the skin and eyes nicely. Except for the fact that I was not wanting to be in it. I much rather wanted to wake up in jeans and a T-shirt.

I could hear voice downstairs and I could distinguish Emmett, Jasper, Carlisle, Alice, and Bree's voices.

I darted down the stairs, stopping in front of Alice, my arms crossed angrily.

"Davina!" Carlisle said in surprise, "You're up early."

"Early?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"It's only been two days." Emmett said, looking me over, "Looking good Mama bear."

"Really Alice?" I questioned, gesturing to the dress. "Really?"

"What? It's a wonderful dress to go on your first hunting trip in." Alice said, putting an elbow on Jasper's arm.

I looked at her incredulously, "You want me to go hunting in. . . this?"

Jasper shifted uncomfortably, "That's what you care about?"

I looked up at my favorite son, "What do you mean?"

Jasper looked confused, "I don't understand this."

I stared at him blankly and then looked around for an explanation. Bree was the one who answered, "He means. . . you care more about the idea of your hunting attire than thirst."

"Oh." I said, thinking. I concentrated on my throat but I didn't feel anything. "Where should I feel. . . hungry?"

They all stared at me in surprise, "In your throat." Emmett explained.

I concentrated and then shook my head, "Maybe I'm just not thirsty yet."

"Maybe we should go hunting anyways." Carlisle suggested, reaching out to take my hand. I slid my hand into his, feeling the smoothness of his palm, the creases where the lines were, and finding that he was no longer cold nor hot, but that we were the same temperature now.

I looked up at him, staring into his honey coloured eyes and then reached up to kiss him on his lips. He tased wonderful, like things I couldn't even put into words. His lips were hesitant against mine and full. I pulled away, smiling, "Let me go change."

"No." Alice pretty much growled at me.

I sighed, "Yes, let me try tackling a grizzly bear in this dress. It'll get ripped and I actually kind've like it."

"You could go nude." Emmett said, grinning and winking at Carlisle who rolled his eyes.

I actually kind've liked the idea.

Jasper shook his head, drifting away from the room. I looked after him, my smile fading, "What's wrong?"

"He has never seen a newborn with this kind of self control." Alice said and then drifted after him.

"Oh. Great. I'm still weird even after my death." I muttered.

"I don't know." Emmett said in a serious voice, smirking. "You haven't quoted Harry Potter once since you've awoken. You might be going sane."

I stuck my tongue out at him and then tugged on Carlisle's hands. "Come on then."

Carlisle and I exited the house. It was a sunny day and I stared, my hand outstretched as the sun bounced off my skin, sending sparkles out, glittering across the pavement. I stared at Carlisle whose face was glittering.

"You look so handsome." I murmured, wanting to take him to bed at that moment.

Carlisle smiled and I felt my heart do flips. Well. . . not my heart, but ya know.

"And you look absolutely breathtaking." He breathed.

"Except the eyes." I said with a sigh, preening as he swept a strand of my long black hair back from my face.

He gazed at me, sliding his thumb across my cheek and I relished the feeling of his hand. "Even with the eyes you are stunning."

"Well," I said, taking his hand, squeezing it lightly. "Let's go hunt some animals and make them gold."

Carlisle nodded, "Ready?"

I nodded, preparing myself, and then started to run.

It was amazing. It was better than my motorcycle. I flew across the forest, laughing a little, and when we reached the creek, I leaped without thinking, feeling myself almost fly as I crossed the water.

I landed lightly on the balls of my feet, continuing to run, thinking of nothing but the wind caressing my skin and then- Carlisle stopped me.

"We don't want to go to far." He purred. His eyes were raging between black and yellow and I smirked.

"Well hello, Lord. I see you're trying to make an appearance."

"Well," the eyes became completely black, "You look completely ravishing like this."

"You've completely taken over Carlisle." I complained lightly, walking my finger sup his tight sweater.

"He's trying to figure out your self control so he's to distracted to try and take over." Lord smirked before smashing his lips to mine.

Oh yes. I liked where this was going.

My back hit a tree, making the plant shake underneath my body. I barely felt the bark scraping against my impenetrable skin, pushing back fiercely against Lord's lips. So rough and smooth and delicious.

His hands ripped the dress from behind and I tore his sweater off of him. I growled, seeing the light blue buttoned up shirt underneath. "You wear to many clothes Lord."

"Blame Carlisle." Lord growled, biting at the skin on my neck. He pulled back and murmured, "I can leave a bruise. Good."

I chuckled before using strength and speed, sending the both of us crashing into an opposite tree as I pressed against him tightly.

And then I paused, lips hovering above his, "The kids?"

Lord's black eyes melted, becoming tawny again and Carlisle actually shook his head like he was trying to clear his mind. HIs eyes lingered over where he'd ripped part of my dress, revealing the top of my cleavage. He cleared his throat and said, "I do apologize for that. And they're at our house. We can go see them after we hunt."

I nodded, my mind focused solely on the hunt. "Let's find a few rabbits then."

He raised an eyebrow, "Rabbits?"

"Or squirrels." I muttered, thinking back to Vampire Diaries. "That's what they eat in Vampire Diaries."

Carlisle chuckled, reaching out his hand. I took it without hesitation. "Let's find you a mountain lion, shall we?"

I laughed lightly, running again. This time, I led, following my heightened senses to a cave.

"Can I just walk in there and eat it?" I questioned.

Carlisle seemed a little anxious and muttered, "Maybe we should find deer instead."

I raised an eyebrow. "It's not like the mountain lion is going to hurt me."

The mountain lion suddenly paced out of the cave, growling at me.

I could smell it, and while it was appealing, it didn't send me wild like I thought it might've. I stalked forward, avoiding its claws, and bit down into the neck.

I tasted the blood, gushing into my mouth. It was. . . sweet? I don't know how else to describe it. It was satisfying, but it tasted different and I realized that was because I was dissecting the different tastes of the blood. I could taste the water, the salt, and even the plasma. I wrinkled my nose a little bit, trying to ignore the taste that way.

I pulled back once I was done. I had done pretty well, I thought. I'd barely spilled any blood on my dress. I turned to look at Carlisle who had a strange expression on his face.

"What?" I asked, racking my brain. "Did you want some?"

"It's not that." He said softly, coming over and pulling me into his arms. "It's just. . . well first it's very hard watching you drain something that would normally kill you. And for another, you're thirst didn't take you over. You were very calm in your feeding. And. . . you also didn't seem to enjoy it."

"Well." I said, frowning slightly. "I've always liked big cats. Maybe I should go after a bear instead. Those scare me. I might not feel as bad about killing a bear than a cat. And well, for another, it was the taste."

"What do you mean?"

"I could taste the individual components of the blood." I explained, wiping my bottom lip. "The water, the salt, the plasma, it wasn't the best taste in the world."

"Oh." Carlisle whispered, frowning deeper.

"Now can we go see our kids?" I asked.

Carlisle was still staring at me and I recognized this face from my months of interning under him. He was analyzing me like a data project. "Carlisle?"

He snapped out of it. "Our kids? Yes, we can go see them now."

"It's only been two days. . ." I murmured, "What are they like?"

"They're wonderful." Carlisle said with a small smile, "Come on, I want you to meet them."

"Are they. . . have you noticed any signs of danger from them at all?" I asked in worry as we ran back, not to the main Cullen house, but our small cottage.

"Nothing." Carlisle said and then frowned slightly. "They bite a lot. Esme- she's the one whose been helping me take care of them but she hasn't told anyone else about them- she said that when our little girl bites, she doesn't feel anything. But the boys are venomous."

"Two boys and a girl?" I breathed out.

Carlisle nodded, "The boys are identical. The girl looks more like me."

I smiled. "What did you name them?"

We stopped running once were in front of the front door to the house. Carlisle stopped me, picking me up into his arms, carrying me across the threshold before kissing me on the lips.

I giggled as he set me back down on my feet.

"I'm letting you name them." Carlisle murmured.

I shivered, nervous. I already had boy names in my head, but nothing for the little girl.

"Carlisle?" Esme's voice floated out the door. She appeared, holding a very small baby with long golden locks in her arms. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of my daughter.

"Oh." I gasped.

Esme's hold tightened around the baby. "They're still part human Davina."

Carlisle wrapped his arms around me tightly. "Breathe deeply."

I was nervous, not wanting the scent of my daughter to attract me. I let out a stuttering breath and then breathed in.

I could smell honey, cinnamon, and parchment, like the way Carlisle smelled. And I could smell her blood which smelled sweeter than the mountain lion, but it was nothing. I felt nothing. I was still relaxed in Carlisle's arms and then asked, "Can I hold her now?"

Esme was shocked, looking from me to Carlisle.

"Maybe you have a self control gift." Carlisle said, but he didn't relax his arms. I sighed, staring a the blond girl.

"She doesn't look like she's two days old. . ." I whispered.

"She's around three and a half months." Carlisle whispered behind me.

Fear spiked through me, "So. . . she's aging much faster than normal?"

"Yes." Esme said. "All three of them are."

"But- but then- then they might not live very long." I panicked. Venom stung at my eyes and I quickly blinked.

"No, they might not." Carlisle said, kissing my cheek.

"Oh." I whimpered.

"Esme, I think she's alright." Carlisle said, letting go of me.

I stepped forward cautiously, extending my arms for the little girl. Esme handed her over and I shivered. Her skin was warm, her heartbeat faster than I thought it should be. Her eyes were ice blue and I looked at Carlisle, trying to imagine him with blue eyes.

He smiled a little, "I could put contacts in if that helps your imagination."

I giggled a little, the sound lighter and less horse-goat-sheep sounding than it used to be. More like an angel now I guess. "Sorry. Personally, I was thinking your eyes might've been green."

"Sorry to disappoint."

I was suddenly by his side, pressing my lips to his, our daughter between us, "You don't disappoint me. Ever."

Then I pulled away and was in the babies room in a heartbeat. The two boys truly were identical, around the same size as their sister.

"Do you have names?" Esme asked me quietly.

I nodded, "For the boys anyways."

The only difference between the boys was that one of them had short black hair while the other one had curls and they were a tad degree lighter.

I handed the baby girl back to Esme with reluctance, picking up the one with straight black hair. I held him out to Carlisle and said, "This is Samuel Carlisle Cullen."

Carlisle smiled, kissing the top of my head, before taking his son into his arms. I turned back, picking up the last baby, looking into his eyes and said softly. "This is Niklaus Kol Cullen."

Niklaus after the hybrid. Kol was after my brother.

I turned to the girl, having no idea what to name her. Nothing seemed to fit her right. Kijana? Jasiri? Temperance? Kisa? Naomi? Camille? Luna? Kiara?

"Caroline. . . Elizabeth Cullen." I finally decided.

"Those are all wonderful names." Esme decided.

I hesitated and then asked, "I feel so normal. Why?"

Carlisle shook his head, "This could be your gift. Self-control."

"Do the children show any signs of gifts?" I asked.

"Not yet." Esme said. "But of course, they might not be able to have gifts. Or maybe they'll develop later."

I nodded and then looked at Carlisle, "I need to make a call."

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

I paced by the treaty line. I was terrified, unsure. Carlisle stood nearby. He had promised to be there so that I wouldn't hurt them.

"They're coming." Carlisle said and then laughed quietly. "I didn't have to tell you that."

I smiled a little. "It'll take some getting used to, I'm sure."

Sam appeared first and I was surprised he wasn't in wolf form.

I felt a smile break out over my face at the sight of him. "Hey Sammy."

"Hey shorty." He said, grinning. "You look. . . yourself. 'Cept the eyes."

I shuddered, "I hate the eyes. But. . . Carlisle thinks I have the gift of self-control. Yay I guess. I was kind've hoping to be able to shoot lightning from the sky but I'll take what I can get."

Sam raised an eyebrow, looking between Carlisle and I. "She really hasn't changed at all."

Carlisle chuckled, "No. No she hasn't."

"How is everyone?" I asked. "Have you heard from Jacob at all?"

Sam paused and then said, "How about you come down on the Rez."

I blinked. "What?"

Sam sighed, "Billy, Sue, Old Quil, and I. . . well we might've come up with a late wedding gift for you. We decided, as you're basically the wolves mother, you could come down on the Rez. You're the only one, mind you, although Carlisle, you're not that bad."

"Thanks." Carlisle muttered, but he looked worried, "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

I paused, glancing over at Sam and then sniffed tentatively. I cocked my head to the side, "You don't smell."

Sam looked surprised and then said, "You don't smell either. Well, not bad anyways."

Carlisle looked stunned. "I don't understand this at all."

I tilted my head, "Could it be because I'm- or was- half werewolf? So maybe I don't have an aversion to them?"

Carlisle hesitated, "I need to research this."

He was in front of me in a flash, taking my face in his hands, kissing me hard. I kissed back fiercely, wrapping my fingers into his hair. We kissed until Sam cleared his throat. "I'm as romantic as either of you, but I don't like watching my little sister kiss anyone."

I giggled, pulling back from Carlisle. "I'll see you back at our house, okay?"

Carlisle kissed the side of my head, pulling away slowly, and then he was gone.

I hesitated on the brink of the treaty line before carefully stepping over it. I looked around nervously and then said, "No booby traps?"

He chuckled. "None."

I reached my arms out hesitantly and then he pulled me into a hug. I inhaled his warm, comforting smell. Like jasmine and spices, sweat and leather rolled into one. I sighed. "I'm glad you smell the same."

"What do I smell like?" Sam questioned.

"Jasmine, spices, sweat, and leather." I mumbled, feeling embarrassed. "It's a good combination."

"Hmm." Sam said, pulling away, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, pulling me through the forest. "And you smell like honey, almonds, peaches, and lime."

I growled. "I know I smell like fruit. I've been told several times."

Sam chuckled.

Very soon, we were at Emily's house.

"Umm, Sam." I said in a small voice as Emily came out to greet us. I grabbed his shirt, hiding halfway behind him.

"Davina!" Emily cried happily, stopping short of me. I hesitated, almost trembling behind Sam. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Emily. I noticed Jared and Paul emerge, looks of excitement on their faces too.

"Hey Vampire mom!" Jared called, jogging over.

I shivered.

"It's alright Davina." Sam said. "You're not going to hurt them."

I inhaled deeply, smelling for Emily's scent directly. And though I smelled her, though her blood smelled divine, there was no unnecessary craving for it.

I let go of Sam's shirt a little, taking a few steps till I was closer to Emily, but still hesitating. "Hi." I said softly.

Emily threw her arms around me, taking me by shock, making me freeze. Sam was there in a second, worry in his eyes until I very slowly put my arms around her.

"That wasn't so bad." I mumbled as she pulled away.

Sam seemed rather relieved. "So. . ."

"I mean. . .you smell good." I said half-heartedly, still really nervous. Though I couldn't smell the werewolves as awful, my nerves were tingling like I knew I was being surrounded by enemies, "But I'm not craving after your blood. Or any blood for that matter." I frowned a little. "I hunted a mountain lion today. It didn't taste as good as I thought it might."

"You hunted a mountain lion?" Jared asked with a grin. "What was it like?"

"Boring." I said slowly. "It kind've just stood there while I killed it. Maybe it was in shock?"

"But you said it didn't taste good?" Sam asked, frowning slightly.

I shifted uncomfortably. They were okay with this conversation? "Well. . . I could taste everything individually. The water, the salt, the plasma. It wasn't very good. The water was most potent in taste, but it didn't taste. . . it didn't taste like blood really."

"Interesting." Jared said.

"Mom!" Seth's voice called from behind me and a brilliant smile lit up my face. I turned, dashing towards him and wrapping my arms around him. I was very careful not to squeeze him to tightly though.

"Hi Seth." I said with a grin.

I could hear Jared and Paul complaining behind me about how I hadn't hugged them.

I darted till I was in front of Jared and Paul and hugged both of them too.

"Paul imprinted." Seth offered.

My eyes lit up, "Really!"

Paul rolled his eyes but he was trying not to smile either. "Yeah. Jacob's sister. Rachel."

"Quil imprinted too." Jared said.

"Really?" I asked, astonished. "Did everyone imprint while I was dead?"

"No." Seth said glumly. "I haven't. Neither has Leah or Embry or Jacob or Collin or Brady."

I ruffled Seth's hair. "Well good. You're to young for love."

Embry and Quil showed up sometime later. I found out that Quil had imprinted on a two year old named Claire, who happened to be related to Leah and Emily.

Privately, I was thinking that it made sense they were imprinting on each other's family members. Jacob was a powerful member of the wolf family. Which meant his sisters' technically had the gene too. So it made sense for Paul to imprint on one of the sisters. And anyone related to Leah, Seth, and Emily would have strong genes too from Harry's side of things. Same with Quil's blood line.

I didn't stay long, not wanting to overstay my welcome for one thing, but also wanting to get back home to Carlisle.

Unfortunately, Paul still wasn't good at keeping his nose out of other people's business. "So what are you going to do tonight?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I have no idea."

"So you and doctor aren't going to. . . get it on?" Paul smirked.

I wish I could've blushed. I scowled at him instead, putting my hands over Seth's ears. "Not in front of the kids dumbass."

Paul snickered.

I got to my feet, swooping down and kissing Sam on the cheek. "I'll come back soon, I promise."

"Stay safe." Sam said and I smirked, rolling my eyes.

And then I was gone, running back for the treaty line, back into the forest, and back to my house.

Our house.

Carlisle and mine house.

I stepped inside.

"Carlisle?"

Carlisle was in front of me in an instant. "Shh, they're asleep."

"They sleep!" I said, delighted.

He nodded, smiling slightly. "Did you have a good time at the reservation?"

I nodded, "I was very happy."

"Good." Carlisle whispered, moving his lips to the skin underneath my ear. "Mm, do I get you all to myself tonight?"

I giggled, "Yes you do."

"Good." Carlisle growled.

Before I knew it, we were in our bedroom, on the bed. I was under him, his dark gold eyes practically glowing.

I yanked him down to me, my hands wrapped in his reddish-yellow locks, pulling his lips to crash down on mine. He growled against my lips, his tongue fighting for dominance against my open lips. Except this time, I could hold my own fight.

Our tongues mixed together, creating new sensations while his hands traveled down to my shirt. He didn't even bother unbuttoning it, ripping it in half instead and I was grateful that it was a new top I hadn't gotten attached to yet.

I rolled over, pressing him down to the bed, gripping his hips with my legs, squeezing tightly as I tore his shirt apart, blue buttons flying and scattering across the floor.

I pressed my lips right above his pants line, licking a stripe all the way up his chest, his neck, all the way to his earlobe before nipping at it. He growled again, his fingers pulling at the stretchy leggings I was wearing, pulling them downwards and they were discarded as well.

My fingers worked fast, undoing his belt, yanking it out of the belt loops, tossing it away. It fell to the ground with a dull clink. I unzipped the black dress pants, pulling them down quickly. His arms were behind my head in an instant, his body pressed against mine and I could feel his member pressing against my mound.

Our mouths moved furiously in sync with each other, our hands tangled in each others' hair. I moaned against his lips as one of his hands traveled down to my heat, rubbing my clit with lightning fast speed between his fingers.

The sensations were even more erotic as a vampire. They hadn't been lying when they said your emotions were heightened. This was at least ten times better than when I had been human.

"C-C-Carlisle." I moaned out. "Please."

He plunged three fingers into me, thrusting them in and out at a furious pace, rubbing my clit even faster.

My eyes rolled back in my head as I clutched his shoulders before I bit down on his bottom lip, his fingers bringing me over the edge, and I released all over them.

I could smell the arousal now, bitter and exotic and sharp. Carlisle slowly pulled his fingers from my warmth, sticking them in his mouth, licking them clean.

I wanted to ask if that actually tasted good, but didn't want to ruin the moment either.

Carlisle smashed his lips to mine again, flipping me back over on my back into the pillows. I could taste myself on him, something that seemed highly erotic and actually somewhat pleasant. My tastes and his tastes all mixed together.

"Carlisle." I growled, missing the fullness between my legs. I rolled over so that he was pressed into the sheets, angling myself to go down on him.

His hands shot to my hips, thrusting me back into the pillows, before pounding into me. He bottomed out and I gasped in pleasure, eyes rolling backwards before I recovered, bucking my hips to get him to move.

He moved in and our, faster than I thought possible, even with the speeds we could run.

I was a whimpering mess under him, surrendering to him completely. "Carlisle , please!"

"What baby? What do you need?" Carlisle purred lowly in my ear, his dick a blur as he thrusted in and out of me.

I whimpered, wanting more, "More, Carlisle, more."

"More what baby?"

My eyes rolled back into my head, my hands gripping his shoulders.

I had no idea what I wanted more of, I just knew I wanted more. "Faster."

The fuck? Could he go faster? Something was wrong with my br-

He thrusted even faster and I was practically screaming underneath him. His mouth, lowered to my breasts, flicking out at my nipple. The overstimulation was overwhelming. I barely got his name out as I clenched around his cock and milked it for all it was worth. He didn't stop, pounding me through my orgasm, drawing it out, chasing his own release.

The sensation was more than white static. It was a burning white fire that made my toes curl and now I saw how it had taken Emmett and Rose weeks to leave their house. I never wanted to leave this. I wanted Carlisle and I to continue going forever.

We were blessed with such short refractory periods it wasn't even funny.

This was probably going to be my favorite extra curricular activity outside everything else.

"CARLISLE!" I screamed as he twisted my nipple tightly between his smooth dexterous fingers, pulling it, sending the jolt straight to my clit at the same time I came.

My entire body was shaking and her wrapped one arm around me. My legs, wobbly, I jerked forward, the both of us landing off the bed and onto the floor. We didn't even break rhythm, barely noticing the stone floor beneath the both of us. Carlisle simply rolled over onto the carpet, pulling me on top of him, thrusting upwards into me.

We couldn't even get sore.

Carlisle moved his lips to my throat, biting, licking, sucking at my skin, purring with delight as large purple bruises popped up on my skin.

I growled, trying to mark him the same way, and failing. That caused enough confused for the both of us to slow down and observe things.

When we finally came to a complete stop, I was breathing shallowly and so was he. Carlisle ran his hand over my neck, observing the bruises.

He pulled out slowly, causing our combined juices to pool out onto his stomach and he chuckled lightly, kissing me.

"Let's take this to the bathroom, shall we?"

I wasn't as ecstatic, touching the bruises.

"Carlisle, what's wrong with me?" I asked in a whisper. "My skin marks, I don't thirst after blood, blood doesn't even taste that good to me, and I feel completely normal!"

Carlisle pulled me into his arms, carrying me to the bathroom, "There's nothing wrong with you darling. Maybe. . . maybe your gift delves farther than self control."

"So what is it?" I asked.

"Maybe it's more of a. . . normality gift. A gift that keeps you human in a vampire body. I wonder. . . " he drifted off, thinking deeply.

"What?" I questioned.

He looked at me, pulling out the handle on the bathtub- which by the way was huge- and let it fill with warm water. "I was wondering if you could eat human food was all."

I frowned slightly. "But vampires-"

"Vampires also can't bruise." Carlisle said, smiling almost sadly, running his fingers over my hickeys.

"Am I not a vampire?" I questioned. It was overwhelming and venom welled up in my eyes. "Did something go wrong during the transformation?"

"No." Carlisle said. "The only thing that could go wrong is you died. But you didn't. You are a vampire Davina. That much is obvious by the eye colour, the speed, the strength. You have all the physical attributes of a vampire. But when it comes to feeding, that's where you're different. I think it must relate to some sort of gift."

"Carlisle, if my skin can bruise, doesn't that mean I could be killed easier than a normal vampire?" I whispered quietly.

Fear flashed through his eyes for the briefest second. I knew he was thinking about the Volturi and the enemy I had made myself out of Jane.

"I. . . I don't know. There's no way to test it without hurting you either." Carlisle whispered. "I can't test it on you. I can't let anyone else test that on you."

"But evidence suggests it, right?" I questioned softly, throwing my arms around his neck, holding him to me.

"Yes." He said quietly.

I sat there for a long time before he slipped both of us into the bathtub. "It's okay." Carlisle whispered, "We'll figure it out. Everything will be okay."

[omgsquee2001]

Hunter x Hunter Incorrect Quotes: Feat. My OC, Idris Akara

Leorio: Idris! My face is on fire!

Idris: Leorio! Are you ok?!

Leorio; Oh yes, I'm fine. I just said that to make sure you'd come in here quickly.

Idris: But your face is on fire.

Leorio: Yes. It's much faster than shaving.

~~~~

Idris: Do you have any skeletons in your closet?

Killua: You mean literally or figuratively?

Idris: Honestly, the fact that I have to specify...

~~~~

Idris: On a scale from “damn Daniel” to “fre sha vaca do”, how are you feeling?

Leorio: In between “it’s an avocado, thanks” and “how did you defeat Captain America”, but as a solid answer I would say “I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger”. How about you, Gon?

Gon: Probably “road work ahead”.

Kurapika: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

~~~~

Idris: What’s something you guys are better than Leorio at?

Gon: Mario Kart.

Kurapika: Yeah, video games.

Killua: Emotional vulnerability.

~~~~

Idris: What did you guys get in your yearbook?

Kurapika: 'Prettiest Smile'

Gon: 'Nicest Personality'

Leorio: 'Most likely to start a bar fight'

Killua: 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'

~~~~

Idris: Illumi, my old arch enemy.

Hisoka: ... I thought I was your arch enemy?

Idris: I have a life outside of you, Hisoka.