#giles fanfiction

[lokidokieokie]

Accidental Slumber

Summary: After a long night of researching, you and Giles fall asleep in the library.

Pairing: Rupert Giles x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): cuteness overload, friends to lovers type sitch, cuddling, idiots in love, mutual pining, lemme know if I forgot anything

I do not own this image...credit to the original creator

The library was dimly lit, and the musty smell of ancient books filled the air. You and Giles had been researching late into the night, delving into the mysteries of an obscure demon. Exhaustion had finally caught up with both of you, and without realising it, you had drifted off to sleep.

As the sun began to rise, soft rays of light peeked through the library windows. The first sounds of footsteps echoed through the hallways, indicating the arrival of the Scooby Gang. Buffy, Willow, and Xander made their way to the library, eager to share their newfound discoveries with their mentor and the newest member of their team, you.

However, the sight that greeted them was unexpected. Their jaws dropped as they saw Giles and you, entwined in each other's arms, fast asleep on the library table. The tension in the air was palpable as they exchanged perplexed glances.

Buffy cleared her throat, breaking the silence. "Um, guys? Maybe we should give them a minute." Her tone was playful, but her eyes sparkled mischievously.

Giles, as if sensing the disturbance, pulled you closer into him; pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Willow's cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson. "Oh, yes, definitely. We can...wait outside or something."

Xander scratched the back of his head nervously. "Yeah, no problem. We'll just... be over there, pretending not to see anything." He gestured toward the bookshelves and quickly herded the others away.

Slowly, the two of you began to stir, disturbed by the hushed voices and nervous shuffling. Groggy eyes fluttered open, meeting each other in a mix of surprise and embarrassment.

"Good morning," Giles murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

You stifled a yawn, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "Morning. Did we... fall asleep here?"

Giles chuckled, his British accent adding a touch of warmth to the moment. "It appears so. Research can be quite exhausting, it seems."

As you began to sit up, Giles' arm instinctively tightened around you. His touch was gentle yet possessive, as if he never wanted to let you go. You glanced down, noticing the affectionate gesture, and couldn't help but smile.

The library doors creaked open, and the Scooby Gang tiptoed back inside, albeit less discreetly than they intended. Buffy, Willow, and Xander tried their best to hide their amusement, failing miserably.

Buffy broke the silence once more. "Well, you two sure know how to have a slumber party without inviting the rest of us."

Willow nodded, grinning ear to ear. "Yeah, we thought we'd come and join in on the cuddle-fest."

Xander nudged Buffy, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "And I even brought the popcorn, just in case."

You felt your face heat up, and Giles' cheeks tinged with a blush that matched your own. It was clear that the Scoobies were delighted to witness this unexpected moment of vulnerability between you and Giles.

Giles finally released his hold on you, running a hand through his tousled hair as he straightened himself. "Well, um... it seems we may have dozed off accidentally."

Buffy grinned playfully. "No judgment here, Giles. We just wanted to make sure you two lovebirds didn't miss out on anything important."

Willow joined in the teasing, her eyes twinkling. "Yeah, we wouldn't want any precious research time to go to waste."

Xander added with a mock-serious expression, "And if you ever need any tips on cozying up, we're here to help."

The playful banter continued, gradually easing the awkwardness. It was clear that the Scoobies were genuinely happy for you and Giles, their friendly ribbing serving as a testament to their acceptance and support.

As the laughter subsided, Giles took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. "Well, it seems we owe the nosy teenagers our gratitude for their invaluable research assistance."

Buffy grinned. "We'll take our payment in the form of a slightly less awkward group hug."

The suggestion was met with enthusiastic agreement, and soon the library was filled with warm embraces and lighthearted chatter.

In that moment, surrounded by your newfound family, you realised that accidental slumbers and shared vulnerabilities could bring people even closer together. And you couldn't have been happier to be a part of it all, entwined with Rupert Giles, the man who had stolen your heart.

A/N I love Giles 😍

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Character: Buffy Summers

Sample Size: 14,801 stories

Source: AO3

[fandomtherapy44]

Stolen Moments Spike x reader Oneshot!

Paring: Spike x reader

Warnings: SMUT, language, small spoilers for season 5

Summary: Y/n and Spike have some stolen moments on the couch.

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Firefly Graphics

Reblog Banner and 18+ Banner From

cafekitsune

WC: 2,646

Hey, y'all, I wanted to try something a little different. Plus, I have been obsessed with BTVS and especially Spike, so I created a fic for him. I got the inspo for this from this fic, Movie Night at the Summers Residence, so you should go check it out!

My life has never been… easy to say but it’s not like I didn’t have a support system I had my mother and my two sisters. I remember the day coming home from the orphanage and the feeling of comfort and love came over my body for the first time in my life. From that day I was Y/n Summers. I didn’t know life could be more fulfilling till I got my baby sister Buffy then my mom had Dawn a couple of years later. Even as a four-year-old, I knew I loved being an older sister.

So the day Buffy sacrificed herself to save the world again I had felt like I had failed not just Buffy but also my mom and Dawn. So I threw myself fully into being Dawn’s guardian the one she deserved, because like Dad would lift a finger. Motherfucker didn’t even call to talk to us about Mom’s passing it’s like as soon as the divorce was finalized he forgot he was still a father. Our friends did everything to help Dawn, Giles helped her get on track with her schoolwork, Willow and Tara would teach her a few simple spells, Anya and Xander would take her to do fun things to distract her from the heavy grief that both of us were going through.

But Spike crazily enough has been the hugest supporter of Dawn and me. It’s crazy because if you told me four years ago that Spike is reformed and that you trust him to watch your little sister I would laugh at your funny joke. He stays with her all night when I have to work the night shifts unfortunately I get more money from those. And somehow he and I built a friendship through our grief and just wanting someone to be there.

“Hey, how was it?” I asked quietly seeing Dawn asleep on the floor clearly falling asleep during the movie they were watching.

“Uhh, just a little scared,” Spike responded looking at Dawn. A mini heart attack goes through me and he sees my face.

“Sorry, I mean from the horror movie.”

I drop my bag and sit next to him on the couch. “Lead with that next time would you.” I joked and taped his arm. “And I thought we said no scary movies.” I gave him a knowing annoyed look. I can see him and how he's trying to come up with a good reason.

“Ah you know the little bit she is very convening with those damn puppy dog eyes.” He replied turning his body to me and trying that half-assed excuse on me and I had to admit it was pretty cute. 

“Ok fine you're off the hook but no more Micahel Myers at least till she’s sixteen… in half.”

“Isn’t that a little excessive luv?” He called me out while leaning back on the couch arm.

“I know I know I just want to protect her as much as possible as long as possible with how much she has lost in just the last three months I want to protect her while I still can.” I walked over and stroked her hair. I glanced up at him and in his eyes saw my earnestness and truth. 

“Can you carry her to bed I’ll pop open some beers I think we both could use one.” I ended with a smirk.

“Of course and for me-”

“In a bottle, I know spike.” I giggled and walked to the kitchen while he carried her to bed.

In an hour we were both delightfully buzzed our bodies across from each other on the couch and I got to rant to him.

“So get this I walked over to get this guy his coffee and not even a minute later he demanded it again calling me lazy, like I'm sorry sir if I’m not the flash.” We both laughed at that and almost spilled our beers.

“Bloody Hell Luv I’m sorry you have to deal with that.” He sips his beer looking in it.

And I looked in mine like it was a pond a movie character thinking about a decision but really it was still just beer. “Yeah well it pays the bills so in my book it’s the best job in the world.”

“You know I could still help.” He lifts his head to meet mine and his eyes bored into mine.

“Spike I really appreciate the offer but I just can’t take money from you, you already do so much for Dawn and me if I took the money I would feel like I was taking advantage and I couldn't do that, not to you.” I fiddled with the bottle thinking about it and before I knew he had moved right in front of me.

“Luv listen to me, if I can help you not feel like doom is around the corner then that way I can feel that I’m more than what my title is you make me feel like I’m more than a vampire, a monster you make me feel like a man.” He lifted my chin with his hand and I know he’s telling the truth.

“Plus I wouldn’t mind being taken “advantage” of.” He smirked. Leave it to Spike to flirt when things get a little too real.

“Oh really.” I played-shoved him and he caught my hand. And we were left with a sizzling tension between us that had also been building with the friendship. He slowly leaned in looking to me if it was okay. And I nodded yes.

Our lips met in the middle and it was everything I had been dreaming about. It started out slowly but there was a certain desperation behind it. He gently grabbed the back of my head to cradle it. 

SMUT 18+ ...... Below cut

“So should I go or…” He questioned and I grabbed him back into me.

“Spike I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time I don’t about you.” I breathed heavily.

He flipped us over to where he was on top of me and I was below. “Been dreaming of it, sweetheart.” He then pressed his lips again but this time more intense. Before I know it his tongue met mine.

“Mhhh spike.” I moaned between the tongues.

“Not so loud pet Dawn is right upstairs.” His mouth traveled down my neck slowly too slowly for my liking. I grab his shirt.

“Spike…” He chuckles at that.

“I didn’t know you were this desperate pet but have patience, I want to savor this moment.” He goes to remove my shirt. “This okay?” I just nod. He unbuttons it and just looks down at me.

I get self-conscious and hold my arms over my chest. He gently pulls them away. “Y/n you are beautiful no need to be shy but if you do want to cover up I'm fine with that too.” He whispered.

“It’s okay, it’s just I haven't done this for a… while.” I was a little embarrassed to say.

“Me too Luv, so we’ll go at this at our pace okay? I nod and take off my bra.

“Oh, the wait was definitely worth it.” He scanned down and made me feel… sexy which I haven't felt in a while between the sweat build-up and stress.

“Oh spike-” I get stopped by him sucking on my sweet spot. He goes harder and it starts to pulse with a little pain but soothed by him licking it. His hands go to my strap pulling it down I’m so distracted by the bite that I didn’t even feel him fondling my nipple. And it feels… electrifying. I sit up and fully remove my bra. I then glanced at him and annoyingly he still had his shirt on. 

“I think this is a little unfair don’t you think?” I crossed my arms.

“You're right Pet.” He pulled it off like it was a million degrees and was just waiting to shed his clothes. His chest was pale with a slight pink to it from us being like this his abs were well-defined and went into a sharp v-line. I don’t notice I'm staring.

“See something you like?” He smirked knowing the effect he was having.

“Oh just kiss me, dummy.” I pull him back down and we start to get into a rhythm fast-paced and arousing. Our chests blending turning us both on. His hands then drift down to my pants.

“How about we get these annoying things out of the way huh?” He asks and I just nod. His hands go to my waist and I help him shimmy out of my pants. He continues kissing me and his fingers go to my panties. I gasp into his mouth at the sudden contact. Feeling my wetness seeping through the fabric.

“All this for me huh baby?” He grunted like to me. Then his fingers go up and down my slit.

“Uh-huh.” I tried to get out. Then, his finger slowly goes in. “Spike…” The finger makes circles in my pussy. I am trying not to release just at that, and then suddenly, he adds in another. He starts to pump in and out. His thick fingers were rubbing against my soft walls, looking to my face, seeing my reaction and liking it.

“You like that?” He speeds up.

“Yes, Spike yes.” I moaned out he was going in between slow and fast seeing how I reacted to what he was doing well, studying me. It was heaven, in the past guys would barely warm me up and then pull down their pants thinking that would be enough. Spike was like a fresh breath of air.

He started to go more slow noticing I was getting closer not wanting to overwhelm my nerves. And my body was moving with him becoming one. 

“Spike I’m getting close.” His hand ramps up now pounding my pussy. “Ahh Spike!” 

“Let go just let go.” And I did I came all over his hand.

I breathed in deeply trying to recover from the best finger bang I've ever gotten. “Fuck spike you're… good at that.” I climb on top of him going back to making out.

“Yeah?” I start to grind down on him as an answer.

I gently grabbed his face. “Yes, you are.” I stand up and take down my panties.

“Holy… I think I believe there is a God.” He stood up quickly and pulled down his pants and underwear. His shaft springs forward and it is big and bulging the same color as the rest of him just a little redder. I step up and handled it and start to pump it.

“Would you like me to return the favor?” I whisper in his ear and nip his earlobe.

“Ahh Luv… I would but I don’t think I would last and I’m just dying to get inside of you.” he could barely get out finding it hard to focus with my hand pumping him.

“Okay then sit down.” he backs down on the couch. Watching my body strut over to him I straddle him and our bodies meet fully nude. We start to kiss again and get the familiar rhythm like we were meant to be here tonight. His teeth nip down on my lip and the tongue licks it. The air is thick with lust and emotions like I've never felt before. I hover over his shaft and start to grind on it. Getting us both ready with the slick. I lift up and get his shaft and slowly sink in. 

“Spike”

“Y/n” 

Both of us feel euphoric, I have to stay in this spot because he is so big that my walls have to get used to it the cum from before helping it be more comfortable for me. 

“Let me know when I can start moving kay?” He said trying to hold back, making sure this would be amazing for me too.

“Kay.” I breathed out. I rolled my hips to test the waters and both of us liked it. I lift up and slide down gently. He meets my hips and we go together. Breathing up and down together. He juts up into me and makes me lose my balance for a second but he catches me. His shaft goes faster into me.

He flipped us over again so he had more control and I didn’t mind it. My legs wrap his back and my hands scratch into his back. He starts to pound in faster and faster having the stamina of a fucking stallion. He then hits my G spot and stars. He knew how to use what God had given him. I pull him closer and he licks my bite again.

“So bloody pretty.” He heard my moans. 

“Spike… need… more!” He gets my hint and his fingers go to stroke my clit to really get me there. 

“Getting close Luv?” I nod.

He pulls my head to meet his and our eyes meet. “Ready?” He rubs quicker and quicker.

“Ahh! Ahh!” And obsolete explosion both of us came together. We breathe in together not believing what just transpired. He slips out and pushes himself next to me on the small couch barely keeping both of us on. 

“That was-”

“Amazing.” I finished.

“Yeah bloody amazing.” 

I then slipped off into sleep being the most at peace I have felt in a while.

My eyes blink open it being early morning. I then remembered what happened last night and looked to my side and Spike was sleeping there soundly. It felt almost… surreal like this could be regular. I then hear the shower going on upstairs which is weird because Dawn should be sleeping-. SHIT ITS A SCHOOL DAY! She will be downstairs in five minutes. I then notice the state of the two of us.

“Spike Spike! Wake up!” He woke with alertness and fell off the couch.

“What what is attacking us!?” 

“Nothing, Dawn is going to be downstairs now in three minutes!” He then comes to the same realization. 

“Oh SHIT!” 

“Yeah! So come on get your clothes on I have to make a quick breakfast for her.” I throw my clothes on and run to the kitchen. Spike goes to the backdoor but before he leaves he turns to me.

“I don’t regret what happened last night, do you?” Those damn blue eyes begged for an answer. I didn't but I couldn't get into this right now.

“Uhh We’ll talk later okay.” I responded while flipping the eggs not being able to tell to his face. I can tell he wants to keep going but knows he can’t so he throws on a blanket over his head and run out the backdoor. And not a minute later Dawn is in front of me.

“Hey did Spike sleep here last night?” She questioned innocently. I was pouring orange juice and dropped the glass.

“What what no no why ask?” I quickly picked up the glass and avoided her eyes.

“Just he left his lighter on the couch, you okay?” She saw my behavior.

“Yup just tired you know, well would you look at the time you should be off to school!” I pick her up backpack and lunchpail and practically push her out the door.

“Are you sure you okay Y/n because I can-”

“No! I mean I'm okay now go that brain needs knowledge.” I smiled and waved to her as she walked off super confused about her sister’s erratic behavior. I closed the door finally being able to breathe. I walk to the couch looking at the tangled blankets and remembering what only really happened a couple of hours ago and spot the silver lighter and pick it up.

“What did I do?” Did we ruin a friendship or start something more?

[llinstarr]

Cadence have the best oc’s. Lottie? Simeon?? Trish??? Tonya???? Tomny??????

[ourflagmeansworms]

Giles is a bi metafore

Rupert Giles and Ethan Rayne were so exes and I feel like this isn't nearly as mainstream interpretation as it should be. The man is bi guys. And he's such a bi metafore. Never really felt like he belonged amongst the watcher crowd (other heterosexuals) and he's just not. Dark magic, heavy music, his youth gets written off as a phase and that isn't fully true. Giles seems so by the book and scholarly until you actually see the other watchers and see what a rebel he truly is, how even his way of being a watcher challenges the intuitional norm.

[hippiegoth97]

banner by me :)

banner by @cafekitsune

About Me: call me Hippie (or Goth) / 27 / she/her / fic writer / bi / married / minors and ageless blogs DNI

Requests: Open

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Characters/Fandoms I Currently/Will Write For

Stranger Things: Mainly Eddie Munson, but I’ll write any adult and older teen characters (portrayed at least 18+), I WILL NOT age up child characters

The X-Files: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully

Fargo: Gator Tillman

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Giles, Spike, Angel, Drusilla, Faith, Buffy, Willow (Basically anyone except Dawn and Xander, all portrayed as 18+) 

Ghostbusters: Egon Spengler

Once Upon a Time: Killian Jones, Regina Mills

Slumber Party Massacre 2: Driller Killer

Criminal Minds: Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia

Current Works

Into the Fire (Eddie Munson x Reader) Master List

Eddie Munson x Reader One-Shots Master List

Hangman's Joke (Eddie Munson x Female Reader The Crow AU) Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4

You're a Winner (Gator Tillman x Female Reader)

I Want to Believe (Fox Mulder x Female Reader)

Diary of a Hawkins Hussy (Stranger Things x Female Reader) Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7

Requests: Angel x Fem!Pet!Reader Chrissy x Fem!Bisexual!Reader

Blurbs: Eddie #1 Eddie #2 Eddie #3 Steve #1 Steve #2 Spencer Reid #1 Spencer Reid #2 Robin #1 Jonathan #1

Upcoming Projects

Dream a Little Dream of Me (Driller Killer x Female Reader)

Strangers Meet, Strangers Dream (Egon Spengler x Female Reader)

Watch Me (Giles x Female Reader)

You’ve Got Me Hooked (Killian Jones x Female Reader)

I Want to Believe Pt. 2/Pt.3 (Fox Mulder x Female Reader)

Blurb/One-Shot Request Rules

Send me an ask in my inbox with the character, pairing/grouping, and specifics you would like. It may take a while to be finished, and I reserve the right to reject a request for any reason. I WILL NOT accept requests from minors or ageless blogs. Anon requests are accepted. I also ask that any requests DO NOT include the following subjects. I am not comfortable with these subjects and will not write them. (I don't judge anyone who enjoys these subjects, I am just not personally comfortable with them.)

Rape/Non-con (I’ll write references/flashbacks to past sexual assault if it’s beneficial to the story. But no rape fantasy)

Incest/Stepcest

Cheating (In a positive light)

Anything relating to Minors

Watersports/Scat/Vomit Kink

Omegaverse (I honestly just don’t know enough about it)

Pregnancy/Breeding Kink

Pretty much anything else is free game, so request away :)

Tag List Request Form

[hannibalhasthetardisat221b]

Oh my gosh. Okay. This is what I stumbled upon when I was searching through the Internet.. John Constantine and Ruper Giles meeting eachother. This is such an interesting idea for a crossover. I NEED TO SEE THIS HAPPEN!

Y'all have no idea how much I thought about this interaction. How many eye rolls and sarcastic/snarky comments we would get from Giles as well as how many times Giles would take off his glasses in frustration (i bet it would be around 10 times in one day), and how many times Constantine would be sassy towards Giles and try to flirt with him (at least in the beginning of their meeting), and then it will all go down to them bickering about the use of dark magic, demons etc. British sassiness would intensify, sarcastic comments flying left and right, at the end Sunnydale will be destroyed by British snark 😆 (someone said that they might also hookup, so.. um... 👀) lol

But in all seriousness, I think Giles wouldn't trust Constantine in the beginning, maybe even would go as far as hating him, but perhaps with time he will change his mind about Constantine. Plus it also all depends on when they meet, like Giles from season 1 to 4 would definitely be sus about Constantine and probably will have disdain towards him (perhaps because Constantine would remind him of his younger self, of his Ripper days..). For Constantine it would be similar, he would find that Giles too proper, too by the books guy. So, yeah, they will definitely hate eachother. (I bet Constantine would still continue to "flirt" with Giles from time to time, though, at that point he would probably do it to just to annoy him..) Honestly, their arguments will be a pure delight to read about, but also seeing them teaming up would be so much fun. I can already imagine Constantine's reaction upon learning about Giles' past. My head is flooded with so many different ideas but I'm not a writer, or at least not a very good one :(

Someone please write this 🙏🏻 and if there is such a fic exists then can someone please send me the link to it.

Thank you for reading my small rant on this and have a good day 😅

p.s. I apologise for my english, it's not my first language. (sometimes being multilingual is a nightmare when I try to express my thoughts 😅)

[evieelyzabethh]

Hi me again! 👋🏻

I was wondering if you had time maybe to write a small fic (or one shot whatever you’re comfortable with) where the reader is Buffy’s cousin ( also library assistant or whatever you would like ) and the reader and Giles are in a secret relationship ( maybe smut?? ) and they’re navigating that and Buffy finds out and it’s this whole thing. If you’re busy I totally understand or if you just don’t want to, again it’s okay. I really do enjoy your work 🥰.

Not Unavailable, More Unimpressed

pairing(s): Giles x Summers!Reader

summary: what started out as a short term fling has gotten increasingly complicated when the reciprocity and sincerity of feelings is called into questions. pt.1 of ???

warnings: smut, fem!reader, drinking, hand job, a bit of breast worship, clothed grinding, riding, slight choking, age gap (Giles is in his mid to late 40's, reader is in her late 20s/ early 30s), reader has nipple piercings bc I said so and I think they are hot

an: This fic will contain smut so be warned. You are responsible for your own media consumption, read at your own risk.

The man at the bar was a mystery to you. He didn't quite fit into the bar atmosphere. He wasn't one of the barely legals or illegals who snuck in eager to drink, he wasn't one of the old guys who came to hit on the bottle girls, he didn't smell like a smoker or shoot whiskey like a drinker. He was also British, something that left an odd taste in your mouth.

You couldn't call yourself a regular here, more often than not you found yourself at the Bronze, purely per Buffy's request, which had okay enough booze and slightly better music. Here, some place clearly meant for an older crowd called Jack's, is where the older man sat. Alone, he sat at the far corner, sometimes looking longingly at the stage like he was a performer. He didn't look like a performer though.

He was older than you. He was greyed out and looked like he came from when TVs were still in sepia tones. He looked like Gregory Peck in To Kill a Mockingbird, like he was always a moment away from scolding someone. It didn't help that he always looked tired, like a lot of his age came from stress. If that was the case, it still didn't make sense as to why he chose a bar to be his spot to wind down.

It was loud. Not in the way that the Bronze was, a type of loud filled with life. A loud spurred by rowdy souls, people who couldn't let loose at home, so they came to one of the only shitty bars in the small town to drink a shitty beer and watch their favorite sports team lose. Not to mention the countless barely legals who got into fights with the bartenders after they failed to get their underage friends a drink. Jack's wasn't a place to have fun, it was the place to avoid doing something reckless during your midlife crisis. You were only there because of convenience, and after being there for a half hour were already beginning to get a migraine.

Job hunting was rough. When you moved to Sunnydale on behalf of your aunt, she offered to let you stay under her roof, but being a grown woman who got up to grown woman shenanigans, it would be more than distasteful to do it in Joyce's home. You were lucky enough that the housing market was great in the area, with all the supernatural happenings so one chose to move to Sunnydale, but that still didn't mean that a decent looking apartment wouldn't cost you a nice sum of money every month.

I could just work here, was your first thought. You were once a young college student also desperate for money, you had bartended, you could always go back if you lacked self-respect. You had a degree dammit, sure you didn't have a doctorate, but you shouldn't need one to get a nice quiet desk job. Neither option was all that fulfilling, but something told you that bartending in a town when demons just roamed the streets didn't seem like a great idea.

The mystery man looked like he had a nice job. Maybe a nice car. Possibly a nice house. He looked financially stable, and fuck was that hot. What did he do? What was there to do in Sunnydale? You could ask.

You looked at his hands to see if there was a ring or any indication that there was someone waiting for him wherever he came from. Maybe a picture of a kid, maybe a photo of a significant other. Nothing. Nothing.

You slinked over to the seat beside him, not meaning to make your presence immediately known yet he still looked up as he felt the heat of someone else beside him. His glasses perched low on his nose and his grey hair tussled. His eyes were green. He was pretty.

"Hello?" He looked at you confused. He took a moment to drink you in. Younger, gorgeous, clearly bold.

"Hello."

"Are you waiting for someone?" You shook your head.

"No. Are you?" and he'd be lying if he said he was.

☽✯☾

"You know, I don't do this often." He said between the rare breaths that were allowed in between suffocating kisses. Whatever he took up in his free time must've involved a great workout regimen. His hand sat comfortably at your neck, and you basked in the warmth that it provided in his cold apartment. His other held your cheek, his thumb mindless rubbing against it in a way that was hypnotizing. It almost had a numbing affect, your skin not being able to get past the feeling making your brain pause as he kissed your lips.

He tasted like fine wine. He smelled like old books. You half expected him to quote a classic at you, you didn't know him well enough to gauge if he was the type. His tongue contradicted his previous statement. These weren't the kisses of a man out of practice, that or he did it so much in his youth it was impossible to forget. Something like riding a bike.

"For a man who doesn't do this often, you're mighty good at it." He smirked; you could feel it against your lips. You wished you could see it, but he had the lights in his bedroom turned low and you weren't sure you wanted to open your eyes in the fear that you were dreaming. It was warm, he was so warm. So warm it was noticeable when his lips left yours and moved to your neck, hovering under your ears. His breath fanning against your neck was enough to send shivers down your spine.

"You haven't even seen how good I am, darling." The pet name alone made you weak in the knees, but you would be damned if you swooned at someone called you darling. Granted, you couldn't help how your mouth went dry or how your pussy clenched at nothing, but he didn't need to know that. He was going to find out, but he can find out later when your lust ridden brain stopped listening to reason and pride.

"Show me, then."

He dipped his head to kiss you, grabbing a fistful of your hair to tip your head back and you let him, grabbing on to his broad shoulders to stabilize yourself. You were pressed between the wall and him, pressing him even closer as you fisted his shirt to pull him closer, but he was hesitant to oblige. He was teasing, you could tell by the way he smiled into your kisses, pulling away like he needed air while you chased after his lips.

"You having issues breathing, old man?" The hand at your neck squeezed, not enough to choke you but enough to make your head even dizzier. His other hand travelled to any piece of skin he could get his hands on. Feather light, his fingers ran across your arms, then your collarbones, before knocking the straps of your dress off your shoulder. His kisses moved slow, his tongue damn near like languid waves that you were somehow managing to drown in.

Still, you chased after him, and still, he ran. His lips ran to the corner of your mouth, to the skin of your neck his hand didn't engulf, to where your strap lay useless. His kisses scorched your otherwise cold skin, his mouth sucking hickeys and then immediately soothing them.

He was so soft. Soft in how his hands found the back of your dress, soft in how his eyes looked into yours, asking permission without even saying a word, soft like the way the fabric slipped of your body and onto the floor. Soft like the bed he laid you on. Even soft in the way he continued to tease you, his knee meeting the crotch of your panties and him meticulously unsnapping your bra as if you couldn't tell he knew how to do it.

He then paused for a minute, finally coming across something he hadn't experienced before. His fingers took the ball of cool metal between his fingers, and you moaned at how it pulled ever so slightly at your nipple.

"What are these?" You chuckled.

"I got 'em pierced ages ago. Drunk night out with a few friends my senior year." He continued to play with the metal ball, well aware of how you keened and ground yourself into his knee.

"So, I can play with them." Fuck. It was how he said it. Like a nerd you might've messed around with in school because he was a good tutor but also because he had that nerdy charm to him. Like playing with your body was a game of Operations he had been so eager to play and was determined to get good at. It was easy to imagine Giles like that, fogged up glasses, eyes concentrated and focused on figuring out what buttons to press to get a prize. There was the curiosity in his lust-blown eyes, and in your lust addled brain you were fine with being his toy.

"Please do." He didn't need to be told twice. Avid learner he was, he went in, his large hands easily covering your breasts. His fingers pulled at the bars, drawing whimpers out of you the more he prodded. It wasn't too rough, Giles was too soft to ever be truly rough, but the feeling of his gaze, your clothed pussy rubbing against his soft slacks, and his large hands over your chest was getting a bit much. And he hadn't even put his mouth on you yet.

It didn't take long for him to realize the feeling of your pierced tits in his mouth was one of the best things he's felt, and it felt even better for you. A wet patch had long since been growing and he certainly felt it too, it egged him on. He wasn't even in you, he hadn't even tasted you, and you were almost there. You were so close.

You grabbed at anything you could, his shirt, his sheets, his hands that held yours as you rocked yourself onto his knee until you saw stars. Then he grabbed your face and swallowed your moans as he kissed and kissed you until you came down. A moment of clarity hit you, and you pulled on his shirt. "Off." you told him simply, and he obliged. You smashed your lips into his, peeling off button after button until the shirt was thrown to the side and his undershirt beneath was discarded with even less care.

"Issues with patience, darling?" You shook your head.

"Not fair I'm practically naked and you were fully clothed." His retort was cut off by your lips as you sat up to meet him, his hands absent-mindedly finding your breasts and yours finding his belt and making quick work of it before he even realized what was happening. You kissed him through it, anyway, still chasing after him as he pulled away to curse at the feeling of your hand around his dick.

"Gods." he muttered, words tumbling out clumsily as you rubbed the tip of his cock. He never had the control to pull away fast enough for an adequate breather, just a second to get a breath out and pray. You were flattered. His hand seemed like it wanted to swat you away, but it didn't have the strength to betray his brain like that. It felt good. Too good. So good he couldn't even think, and Giles never stopping thinking and now he was drawing blanks. He was sure you had mocked him once or twice, which went through one ear and out the other.

He caught himself thrusting into your hand before he caught himself, grabbing your wrist. "Hang on." He choked out, but you didn't listen. Your hand moved up and down his shaft terribly slow, and it was almost worse. Watching you spit on your hand and collect pre-cum from his tip and spread it like some sick simulation of what it would be like to be in you, and yet he couldn't help but watch his hand completely cover yours as you pumped him. Don't cum yet.

"I said hang on." His breath was ragged and his voice was deep. This time he meant it. "There are condoms in the top left drawer. Take one out for me, love." And you did as such. Did it with so much assurance that you slid it on without him even needing to ask you. Slid your panties off and sank down so fast neither one of you was ready.

You both sat there a moment, feeling your nerve endings tingle and burn, like you were both on fire. But you were on fire together. Like you could feel every atom in your body, like it had all been reduced to nothing but water, you were both feeling everything and anything yet absolutely nothing at the same time. So much feeling any nuance got lost in the moment. Just being there, breaths away, with a complete stranger you were sleeping with because he was pretty and looked financially stable.

You kissed him, a real kiss. Spontaneous. One with a feeling neither one of you could decipher and both assumed meant nothing. You rode it out until you had both exhausted each other, you falling on top of him and him catching you.

"Would you like to use my shower before you go? Did you need a ride home?" You cheesed to yourself. And they say chivalry is dead.

"Yeah, that would be nice." You had already rolled out of his bed in search of your dress and waiting for feeling to return to your legs. "I never got your name."

"Giles. Rupert Giles." You giggled as you shook of your dress after picking it up from the floor. Sounds about right.

"And what do you do for a living, Mr. Giles."

"Do these things typically end in interviews?" He made no effort to get out of his bed, he even had the decency to turn away while you get dressed as if he wasn't just balls deep in you.

"No, but I am new to town and would like to not be broke."

"I'm a librarian." Of course, you are. "Have you any interest in literature?" You did. You were a nerd. You had tried convincing yourself you weren't for years, but you majored in philosophy and minored in classic literature; and no one likes philosophy majors.

"I dabble a bit. Got a degree from all the reading I did if that counts." He looked at you like he knew you were trying to make yourself sound cooler. Nerd calls to nerd.

"Well, plenty of places are always hiring. The turnover rate is quite atrocious here." And even new to town, you believed it.

"I just might."

☽✯☾

You did end applying, you even ended up getting the job. Apparently, your little cousin's high school was in desperate need of a library assistant. You also had the pleasure of freezing when you saw Giles again and watching your little cousin greet her favorite teacher.

It was almost worth it for the look on his face, though.

[emma-m-black]

Soul Mate Magic - Chapter One

Rupert Giles x OC (FanFiction) - MATURE 18+

A new magical transfer comes to Sunnydale High, and ends up discovering a magical connection with our favorite Watcher.

OC is 19+ (Not a Minor), Age Gap, Slow Burn-ish (with a little preview thrown in there during the Bandy Candy Episode).

This will be a multi chapter story I don't know how spicy it will get yet, but I'll rate it Mature just to be safe.

Author Master List

Chapter One

It was the first day of classes—well, the first day of classes for Rose, that was. For everyone else, it was already about two months into the school year. But she was here now, and that was all that mattered. As she stood at the edge of the school grounds, her backpack hanging casually from one shoulder; she tilted her head slightly to take in the sight before her. The sprawling brick building loomed, its tall windows glinting under the soft morning sun. A subtle smile crept across her lips, barely noticeable, but there. Her long, and deeply coloured red hair lifted in the gentle breeze, catching the light as it danced in the air like fiery waves.

“Rose Murphy?” a voice called out from somewhere nearby, piercing the stillness around her. It was still early enough that the grounds remained devoid of students, their usual chatter and laughter absent from the air.

Rose turned, her green eyes narrowing as they scanned the scene for the source of the voice. After a moment, she spotted a girl with similarly red hair, though lighter and softer, waving cheerfully as she skipped toward her. “You must be Rose! It’s so nice to meet you!”

“Hi,” Rose responded cautiously, giving the girl a quick once-over. She was dressed in a fuzzy pink sweater and flared bellbottoms with stripes that stood out boldly against the muted tones of the schoolyard. The ensemble was a sharp contrast to Rose’s fitted blue jeans and cream-colored camisole, which peeked from beneath her worn, dark brown leather jacket. “How did you know who I am?”

“Oh, yeah. Guess that is kind of creepy, huh?” The girl grinned without a hint of awkwardness. “I’m Willow, your official tour guide for the day! I’m supposed to show you around, help you get your books, and make sure you’re up to speed. No getting lost on my watch!”

Rose arched an eyebrow, unconvinced. “That still doesn’t explain how you knew who I was.”

Willow’s giggle was light, and she waved it off casually. “You look way too cool to be from around here. Plus, I’ve never seen you before, so I took an educated guess.”

Rose exhaled a soft sigh before her lips curled into a reluctant smile. “Well, nice to meet you, Willow. And yes, I’m Rose.”

“You’re going to love Sunnydale! How about we start with my favorite spot?”

Rose chuckled under her breath. “It’s going to be the library, isn’t it?”

Willow’s face lit up as she clapped her hands together. “Yeah! How did you guess?”

“Just a hunch. You seem like you’re... um...” Rose hesitated, trying to find the right label.

Willow grinned wider. “A nerd?”

Rose pressed her lips together, then nodded slightly. “I mean, yeah... I’m a nerd too, so no judgment. I love books!”

Willow laughed again, brushing it off with ease. “Could’ve fooled me. I’m sure Cordelia will try to eat you alive.”

Rose blinked. “Eat me?”

“Well, not literally,” Willow said, waving her hand in dismissal as she motioned for Rose to follow. “She’s the popular one, and you look like you belong in her crowd, not hanging with little ol’ me. But she’s not that bad. A bit vain, maybe, but she’s even helped with...” Willow trailed off, eyes darting nervously. “Well, never mind. You’ll see. Anyway, if you love books, you’ll love Giles!”

Rose’s curiosity piqued as they stepped into the bustling halls of the school. “Who’s Giles?”

Willow’s eyes brightened. “He’s the librarian! He has this amazing collection of occul... umm... books.”

Rose stopped mid-stride, her right hand twitching slightly at her side. “Were you going to say ‘occult’?”

Willow’s voice jumped an octave, her words suddenly rushing out. “Yeah, but, you know, only if you’re into that kind of thing? It’s just a fun, academic interest for some of us. Totally harmless. Not real. Nope, not real at all.”

Rose’s fingers flexed as an odd sensation crawled up her spine. “No, totally not real,” she muttered before she curled her fingers into a tight fist as they approached two large, wooden doors under a sign that read LIBRARY. The heavy, magic-laden air prickled at Rose’s senses the moment she crossed the threshold. The magical energy here was thick, almost suffocating. Her Aunt’s warning echoed in her mind—Sunnydale was saturated with supernatural forces. It would make her spells easier to cast, but also more dangerous for her if she was caught.

“Giles!” Willow called out, leaning casually against the large reception desk.

A smooth British voice responded from somewhere deeper in the room. “Willow?”

“I’ve got a new student with me! We need books!” Willow replied cheerfully.

A moment later, a head popped out from behind a doorframe near the desk. An older man with salt-and-pepper hair and wire-framed glasses appeared, his face warm yet slightly distracted. “Ah, excellent!” He stepped out fully, his gaze immediately settling on Rose.

Rose couldn’t look away. This man, Rupert Giles, practically oozed magic. Even without her Aunt’s gift for seeing auras, Rose could feel it. The tingle of raw power hung around him like static in the air. She could almost taste the sharp edge of dark spells lurking just beneath his composed exterior.

“Rose, this is Rupert Giles. Giles, meet Rose.”

“That’s odd. I received a note about a new student, but I don’t believe the name was Rose...” Giles adjusted his glasses, his eyes narrowing as they scanned her closely.

“My given name is actually Guinevere, but I never use it. I go by my middle name, Rose.”

Giles murmured something under his breath—Windos sēbros—his sharp gaze cutting into her as if searching for something hidden beneath the surface. Rose met his eyes, wondering if he could sense what she did—magic, pulsing like a heartbeat.

“What?” Willow asked, glancing between them, completely oblivious to the intensity of their exchange.

“The White Phantom,” Rose whispered, feeling the weight of Giles’s gaze press into her. There was a moment where the air between them seemed to shimmer, thick with unspoken understanding.

Willow blinked, oblivious to the tension. “Oh! Like Arthurian stuff! My brain immediately goes to you know the sword in the stone, not um Phantoms. So, your name is Guinevere? Like the Guinevere?”

Giles gave a small, distracted nod, but his attention remained fixed on Rose. His voice softened, turning speculative. “The White Phantom, a figure from Welsh folklore. It was a magical being of great power.”

Rose shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his words, her right hand twitching once more at her side, a tell-tale sign that the magic inside her was stirring. She wasn’t sure what Giles could sense, but she could feel the way the atmosphere around them was charged. He knew something. And from the look in his eyes, he was trying to figure out just how much.

“Neat!” Willow exclaimed, still smiling brightly, unaware of the brewing storm of magic around her. “I always thought Guinevere was just a queen, but folklore makes her way cooler. Magic and mystery? Totally beats royalty.” She chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

Giles blinked, seemingly pulling himself back to the present. “Yes, well. Books. You’re here for books.” He cleared his throat, visibly shaking off the strangeness of the encounter. “Willow, I assume you have Rose’s schedule?”

“Sure thing!” Willow handed over a slip of paper that had been stuffed into her pocket. Giles smoothed it out and began reading through it.

As he did, his eyebrows raised slightly. “Quite the ambitious course load. It seems you and Willow will be seeing a lot of each other, judging by the overlap in your schedules.” His gaze flicked back to Rose. “Quite the academic, I see?”

Rose offered a slight smile. “I guess you could say that.”

Willow nudged her playfully. “She’s part of the club! It’s not very glamorous, but there are lots of late nights and over-caffeinated study sessions.”

Giles’s eyes lingered on Rose for another moment, as if he was still trying to unravel some hidden mystery about her, but then he sighed and nodded. “Right, well, let’s get you your books.”

As Giles disappeared into the shelves with Willow, Rose was left standing alone at the counter, her fingers idly tracing the surface of the old, worn wood. The library smelled of aged paper, dust, and something else—something faintly metallic, like the scent of a spell that had been cast long ago and lingered in the air, forgotten by everyone but those who could sense it.

She could hear hushed voices coming from deeper within the stacks. Willow’s tone was light, as usual, but Giles’s voice had taken on a more serious edge. Curious, Rose instinctively raised her hand to her ear and began to trace the familiar rune—one she had learned as a child when she wanted to eavesdrop on her parents. Her finger moved quickly, drawing the symbol with practiced ease. A warm sensation bloomed just behind her ear, and suddenly the quiet murmur of their conversation became clearer.

“She seems normal to me, Giles. No horns, no pointy teeth,” Willow was saying, her tone teasing but reassuring.

“I’m not so sure,” Giles muttered. “There’s something... familiar about her. Something I can’t quite place.”

Willow laughed softly. “I’ve only been with her for like ten minutes, Giles. I didn’t exactly start our conversation with, ‘Hi, are you a demonic creature here to kill us all, or just really into AP math?’ She seems pretty normal to me.”

Giles was silent for a beat. “Perhaps. But there’s a reason I feel like I’ve seen her—or someone like her—before.”

“Well, if she starts going all yellow-eyed and blood-sucky, I promise you’ll be the first to know,” Willow joked, though her words were met with a contemplative hum from Giles.

Rose let her hand drop, wiping the rune from her skin and cutting off the conversation. Her heart beat a little faster in her chest. Giles’s suspicions were more than just casual curiosity. He knew there was something off about her. He just didn’t know what yet. She would have to be careful.

A few minutes later, Willow and Giles reappeared, their arms stacked high with books. Rose had busied herself thumbing through a book on ancient Sumerian languages, though her mind was elsewhere.

“Well, I think we’ve got everything,” Giles said, though his voice carried a hint of reluctance. His expression was tight, as though he wasn’t entirely satisfied with leaving things where they were.

“Sorry!” Willow chirped, hiding behind a mountain of books. “I might’ve grabbed a few extras.”

Giles began signing out each book, his movements quick and precise. As he pushed the last one across the counter toward her, Rose reached to take it. The moment her hand came close to his, a sharp arc of electricity crackled between their fingers, lighting up the small gap between them with a visible spark. Rose jerked her hand back, shaking it as the sensation of numbness shot up her arm.

“Ow.”

Giles’s eyes widened slightly as he stared down at his own hand. “I—I’m terribly sorry, Rose. Must have been some static from the stacks. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Rose replied, flexing her fingers. The feeling was already returning, but the jolt had been more than just static. She could feel the lingering buzz of magic still in the air between them. “Just lost feeling for a second there.”

Giles’s gaze flicked to Willow, then back to Rose, his expression unreadable. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Rose. The library is always open if you need anything. And do let me know if there’s anything... unusual you require.”

Rose forced a smile, though the underlying tension between them was hard to ignore. “Thanks, Mr. Giles. I think I will be hiding in here quite often enough.”

Willow helped her gather the books, and soon the two of them were heading back down the quiet halls of Sunnydale High. As they walked, the distant hum of students echoed faintly through the halls, but Rose’s mind was elsewhere, buzzing with thoughts of Giles, the spark, and the strange magic that seemed to hang over him like a dark cloud.

Read Chapter Two

[darling-i-read-it]

Replacement

Rupert Giles x fem!reader, slight Wesley Wyndam-Pryce x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: younger reader (12 years younger than Giles but super legal ofc), btvs season 3 spoilers, jealousy/insecurity, drinking, light insinuation to smut 

Author’s Note: I know this is literally not on the list of things I was supposed to write and I’m going to get to the requests tomorrow I think but the fact there’s so little giles content makes me wanna DIE. anyway here’s this <3 watching buffy season 3 and feeling things for him. 

Summary: Set in season 3 when Buffy gets Wesley as the new Watcher. The reader, the assistant librarian and also Giles’ girlfriend, gets hit on a bit by Wesley and Giles gets protective™. 

Genre: mostly fluff! 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“They’re sending in the new Watcher soon,” Rupert murmured. He was sitting on the couch in front of you. You could only see the back of his head but you could tell what kind of look he had on his face. Contempt, annoyance, some disappointment lacing his features. He had a glass in his hand, his arm over the back of the couch. He glanced back at you in the kitchen. “I fear I might be a tad unbearable for the next couple of days.” 

“You’re always unbearable,” you quipped, grabbing your own glass as you finished pouring it. “That's what I like about you.” 

You knew Giles was extremely worried about Buffy’s new Watcher. It had been the topic of conversation ever since Buffy’s test. It had also been a general point of contention; how could he let her go through that? Though now that he was being punished through various other means, you laid off on the argument. 

“Do you know who it is?” 

“No. They won’t tell me. Fear of my reproach I imagine.” He shook his head a bit. “I can’t believe they’re allowing someone else to come in after Gwendolyn Post.” You stayed silent. It was better to let him just talk through this himself, without any kind of argument or solace from you. “Buffy will never trust someone as she trusts me. Trusted me that is, I suppose. I never should have gone through with it. No, don’t say anything. I’m just conceding to your earlier point, I know.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Relax. The Watcher won’t be here tonight…” you put your hand on his arm. “So let’s not talk about him hm?” 

“You’re being suggestive. Is it because I conceded to your point?”

“One of the various reasons,” you explained. “Relax Rupert. I have no ulterior motives, I’m not a vampire, I’m not possessed. I’m just a girl in your house with some light alcoholic suggestion.” He nodded slowly. 

“You know, I don’t need that much convincing.” 

“I know.” You grabbed his drink and put it down on the coffee table. He admired you with an eyebrow raised until your phone rang. You groaned, picking it up beside the drinks. “It’s Buffy.” He let out a soft sigh. 

“Duty calls.” 

“Hey, it’s my phone. Maybe she just wants to gossip.” 

“Moments like these I remember we’re from slightly different generations.” You rolled your eyes and answered the phone. 

“12 years is not that many years. Hey Buffy.” 

“Arguing about your age difference again?” she said over the phone.

“Always. Ever the straight.” You kicked your legs up onto his lap. He grabbed his glass back from the table and took a drink. 

“I have said you have odd taste in men right?” 

“Once or twice. What can I do for you?” 

“Was gonna ask if you want to go to the Bronze with Willow and I before patrol. I fear this will be my last night Watcherless.” 

“Does she know I can hear her?” Giles questioned. You shrugged. 

“I would love to come but I think I’ve got my hands full over here. Men's feelings are hard.” 

“Tell me about it,” Buffy muttered. You could almost see her rolling her eyes over the neverending Angel ordeal. 

“You should go,” Giles said. “I’ll be fine.” “I made plans I don’t like to break,” you pouted. “Rain check Buff?”

“Sure thing.”

“Have fun.” 

“I would say you too but that brings awful images to my brain.”

-

You came into school a little bit late. You were working as library assistant, at Snyder’s hope to keep Giles the least destructive as possible. Giles woke up ungodly early and usually had several cups of coffee before you even saw him. 

You pushed open the doors to the library, holding your bag to your side. You slowed at the sight of a man you didn’t recognize by the check out desk. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to place the suit. Familiar, but foreign. The man turned around, revealing some glasses and an even looking face. 

“Good morning,” he said, just as evenly. 

“Good morning…” You craned your neck to look behind him, wondering if you had suddenly entered a world with a different librarian. 

“Are you here for the librarian? He’s out at the moment.” He stumbled over his words a bit, making you unsure of his dedication to the sentence. 

“Who are you?” He cleared his throat. 

“Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.” He offered his hand. You shook it, warily. 

“Wesley Wy-” You paused and thinned your lips. Maybe it was the British accent that gave him away or maybe it was the suit. “Are you the new Watcher?” His eyebrows raised. 

“I take it you know about the slayer” You shook your head. 

“Just a tad. I swear I’m not a threat, just a friend. Y/N.” He nodded once, looking you over. 

“What kind of friend?” You scoffed a bit. 

“You Watcher’s have a type,” you observed. 

“Hm?” 

“Where’s Rupert?” 

“Out.” 

“What was it? Westley?”

“Wesley. Wyndam-Pryce.” You nodded, pointing a finger at him. He smiled shakily, looking down. You opened your mouth to speak when the door opened again. 

“Oh man. You’ve met the new Watcher,” Buffy observed. Wesley straightened up and cleared his throat. “Getting along?” “Well,” he observed. Buffy raised an eyebrow at his stiffness and then glanced back at you. “I wonder if the Watcher’s have a book that says what kind of girl they’re allowed to go for. Maybe Giles just stuck a picture of you somewhere and this guy read it wrong.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Do you know where Rupert is?” 

“Nope. He’s not my Watcher anymore, remember?” she said, defeated. She passed you further into the room. You put a hand up in defeat. 

“He could be dying and none of us would know.” 

“I’m sure he’s alright,” Wesley promised. “Are you and Rupert…” 

“Yeah,” you said curtly. As if on cue, Giles walked into the room, holding a stack of books, looking completely in his natural habitat. “Thank God. Giles.” He halted when he caught sight of the two of you. 

“You met the replacement.” 

“I did. He’s a little stiff.” You squeezed his bicep. He watched you do it. “I was looking for you.” 

“Is everything alright?” He put the books down on the counter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just wasn’t sure where you had run off to and I like keeping tabs.” 

“That’s unhealthy,” Buffy noted. 

“Your boyfriend is dead,” Giles retorted. She shrugged with a point taken look on her face. You turned back to him. Wesley gave a once over at the two of you. Giles had put a hand on your upper arm, a gesture that was familiar to the two of you. You took the top book off his stack. 

“Whatcha reading?”

“You’re miraculously calm.” 

“One of us has to be.” You took the book and walked over to sit beside Buffy. She was eyeing the new Watcher intensely, like the whole world could come down at her mere gaze. Knowing her, you wouldn’t be surprised. 

“He’s gonna say something stupid,” she muttered. 

“Hm?” you asked. Wesley was looking at Giles. 

“Don’t you think she’s a bit on the younger side for you?” 

Silence went over the room as the words seemed to hang in the air. Giles stared bullets into his former colleague. 

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern,” he said coldly. 

“She looks closer to the slayer's age. My age. I have every right to ask, as a proceeding member of the council and part of the investigation towards your extermination.” Giles took a step forward, too close. You were suddenly reminded of the ‘not so booksmart’ person he used to be, the one who would throw a punch before working with words. You stood back up. 

“Keep her out of your mouth or so help m-”

“Alright,” you intervened. You stepped between the two of them. “I’m only 12 years younger but you flatter me. Giles, a moment?” You grabbed Rupert’s arm, gently pulling him in the direction towards his office. It took him a moment, not wanting to digress from the standoff. Eventually he followed. 

“Don’t leave me here all by my lonesome with this guy,” Buffy pleaded. 

“Vetoing your contribution here slayer,” you called back. She let out a huff, returning to staring bullets. You shut the office door gently behind you. 

“That’s a tad dramatic,” he pointed out. “I’m fine.” 

“I’m not going to put words in your mouth but I’m allowed to observe, yeah?” He pursed his lips, shoving his hands in my pockets. You nodded. “Other Watcher, bad. Wiles Westley Watchamacalllhim is making you, Rupert Giles, sad. You want Buffy to remain under your watch, lack of better word, and this new man is now stepping all over your toes in that regard. Observations correct?”

“Generally.” 

“What am I missing?” He shook his head. 

“It’s not important. Move on with your speal please.” 

“Buffy won’t trust this man the way she trusts you. She never could, you have too much history. You have the upper hand here, despite the council not backing you up. He’ll never be half the Watcher you are,” you promised. You grabbed his hand. “Speal over.” 

He nodded gently, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“You do have a way with words.” You laughed gently, shaking your head.  

“I’ll try to be more Bronte later.” He squeezed your intertwined hands, a defeated smile on his lips. 

There was a knock on the office door. You rolled your eyes and released his hand. You swung open the door to meet Wesley on the other side. 

“I have to speak to Mr. Giles.” 

“He’s all yours Wes.” You patted his chest as you walked past, back to Buffy. 

-

As the day wound down and everyone started home, you were stuck in the library still. You loved the place but the more you spent in it with two Watchers, the more you were starting to see its lesser qualities. Giles had followed Buffy and Faith out to have a generally mentor-like talk. 

Leaving you alone with Wesley. 

“So you know of Buffy because of Giles?” he questioned. You raised your head from the book you were reading. You had hardly noticed him watching you. He had a cup of coffee in his hand, standing disgustingly straight. You sat on the steps. 

“I was assistant librarian. Almost died by vampire. Happens to the best of us.” 

“He fraternized with a colleague?” 

“Continues to do so. Don’t look so jealous, Wes.” You put the book to your chest. “You’re ruining the perfect balance of the scooby gang you know.”

“Perhaps it needed to be out of kilter. I don’t see it going swimmingly right now.” He walked over to you. You looked up at him, observing his very even stature. You wondered, not for the first time, if Giles looked like this when he was a little younger. “What are you reading?”

“Rereading.” You glanced at the book. “Wuthering Heights.” 

“Classic.”

“Yes sir. One of my favorites. Helps me forget about the neverending impending doom,” you muttered. He looked awkward for a moment and then sat down beside you on the steps. You raised an eyebrow. 

“I’ve always enjoyed a bit of light fiction reading.” You opened your mouth to speak, reading the signals he was not so eloquently putting off. You were interrupted by the library door opening. 

Giles slowed his walking speed at the sight of you. Wesley stood up, embarrassed. You gave Rupert wide eyes, a gentle I don’t know sign. 

“Go do Watcher duties won’t you? The girls need someone to watch them before patrol.” Wesley wanted to argue but noted the look in Rupert’s eyes and decided against it. He gave you a nod and then passed him to leave the room. 

You were alone with Rupert. Finally.

“Wuthering Heights?” he asked gently. You nodded, a small smile on your face. 

“Am I so predictable?”

“You’re a classic.” 

You leaned against the railing, watching him with admiration in your eyes. There was something special about emotions fluttering around the room, knowing there was something to be said and something understood. You softly patted the stairs beside you. He walked over, sitting down without a word. 

“You know what I’m going to say,” he breathed. You grabbed his hand, staring down at it as you traced the lines of his palm. 

“Wesley will never be you.” 

“Are you speaking for Buffy or…or for you.” 

“For me.” You wanted to argue aggressively, assure him that whatever he was thinking was wrong. You felt the opposite, you would never love someone like you loved him. That Wesley, no matter the difference in your ages, it would always be Giles. That the age truly wasn’t even that big of a deal. You were consenting adults with fully formed frontal lobes. 

Instead you leaned down to him and put your chin on his shoulder.

“I love you,” you whispered. He did a double take with his eyes, not moving his head so as to not disturb you. You hadn’t said that yet. “You don’t have to say anything-”

“I love you too.” 

You smiled brightly. You kissed his shoulder and then sat up all the way. 

“Can you read to me?” He glanced up at you, wondering how you had moved on so quickly. 

“Hm?” 

“I just like to listen to you talk Rupert,” you murmured. You handed him your book and slid down the stairs so you were sitting beside each other. He cleared his throat curiously. “One second. I’m gonna go grab one of your sweaters from the office, I like to get cozy. You got any blankets in there Rupert?” You got up and walked away. He smiled to himself. 

“Under the desk.” 

“Ah ha!” you peeked around the corner. You emerged wearing one of his gray knitted sweaters. “I love that you have blankets in your office. Hm. I love you I think.”

“Oh?” You shrugged. 

“Yes sir.” 

You sat beside him again and put a blanket over his lap. 

“Go on. Heathcliff won’t read himself.” 

When Wesley returned he glanced through the door window before walking in. Your head rested on Giles’s, eyes closed in content. You looked rather cozy on that step. Giles kept reading, even as you presumably slept. 

Wesley turned back to bother Buffy some more.

[buffyversekinkmeme]

Holden Webster, vampire therapist

PROMPT: For some reason, instead of staking him, Buffy takes Holden Webster with her to talk to Spike (maybe she wants him to confirm the story, maybe she thinks a vampire therapist will help Spike, who knows). He ends up sticking around for season 7, and acting as a therapist to all of the scoobies. Lots of humor comes from having a vampire therapist, but he actually does help them work out some of their issues with each other.

Do not want: The characters being lectured about what they should think and then immediately changing their minds with no actual character development. Character bashing.

PROMPT RATING: Any

PROMPT FILL: This prompt has no fills so far.

[lokidokieokie]

Rupert Giles Masterlist

ONESHOTS

Threads of Redemption

Accidental Slumber

[vampcompany]

For deserting the Watcher's Council, Rupert Giles is cursed to spend his days as a swan, hopelessly drowning in his failures. Until he meets Jenny, a princess with her own reasons to run away.

Jenny’s skinny red-tipped arrow pierced through a widespread wing, the body that splashed into the lake was not a swan in the slightest. In the water, a man stood up, wet, gripping onto the dark red spot where the arrow stuck out of his pale shirt.   “Oh no, no, no - ” Jenny gasped. Loud, unladylike, and dropped her bow onto the ground. Her hands were too busy clapping over her mouth. "Shit."

Soooo I made a post joking about this Swan Lake AU, and then thought about it, and thought about it, and thought about it some more before deciding to actually write it. Very au, far from most of the BTVS canon - but also very Giles/Jenny. If you enjoy them I hope you enjoy this :)

this could have been the longest thing ever if i let it, so think of it as a soft introduction to a 'could be a long epic one day' concept

[alpydk]

Friend of the Family (part 1)

Gale x Rugan - 2 part episode. You get this 10k now and in a few days, part 2.

Summary - Morena Dekarios is coming back to town after a year away. How will she take finding out her son is engaged to an ex Zhent?

Ao3 Link

He let out a deep sigh, the coffee bringing relief but not easing the quickening tension that was running under his skin. He would just ignore the letter that lay to the side, addressed to Gale in the cursive feminine hand. It had arrived with the rest of them, various details on the front of how it had been redirected from one location to another, the wax seal of a set of scales pressed to the back.

Rugan sipped the hot kaeth, giving a faint hiss as it burnt his tongue. The first cup of the day was always taken the same way, though. A slight singe was enough to get you going, is what he always believed. He flicked through the sheets of parchment next to him, the assortment of letters from the academy duller to read than the morning paper he’d already skimmed through twice. It was the normal events of the world, it seemed, some hero defeating evil, some evil rising in the ranks through the use of political power.

There was the briefest moment Rugan had believed it to have arrived from Tav. Eighteen months, not a long enough time for her to have moved on. Would she return to Gale’s life? Possibly apologise for what had happened between them before swooping him off his feet and whisking him away? It wasn’t worth thinking about, not after everything, after the disastrous first dates, after an undead horde almost took over the city.

Rugan closed his pale blue eyes, inhaling the sharp scent of the kaeth. Tav is gone. Gale loves you. You need to get a fucking job, mate. He hated how his own mind liked to turn on him to remind him of such details. The last eighteen months had been one failure after another, despite his best attempts. First had been simple bar work, but apparently flirting with the owner’s wife wasn’t suitable even if he hadn’t meant anything by it. Next came working at the Academy. Gale had been kind enough to get him a small position helping in the library, however once they had discovered an extensive selection of their books were destroyed because of his actions, they were quick to retract the offer. Lastly came something he wasn’t particularly proud of. He’d heard word of a job that needed doing for The Guild that paid well and figured why not? That was until Gale had found out, until the argument had started, until both had said their fair share of deeply cut insults. No matter the pay, a job like that was not worth the cost.

Again, he placed another piece of parchment aside. Maybe the next one would be good news, something saying he’d inherited an enormous fortune from an unknown and wealthy relative. It was another cursive inked letter, again with the same scales stamped onto the back, dates going back a year. He checked his surroundings, making sure the coast was clear before he lightly fingered the back of the envelope.

“Rugan, I don’t suppose you’ve seen my book on the intricacies of illusion magic, have you?”

The call from the library was not unheard, the letter being quickly flung with the others and the newspaper lifted, turned to a random page at speed. “No, poppet. Not seen it,” he answered as casually as he could, not making eye contact with Gale, who entered the room in a hurried state.

“I can’t believe you let me sleep in. On today of all days. I have the presentation, countless amounts of research to document.”

The minor rant continued as Gale lived up to his name and stormed around the kitchen in search of various items he needed: his bag, the book, kaeth. It was as his eyes fell on the two discarded letters that his movements stopped.

Rugan still avoided looking up. “Oh yeah, they came for you this morning.”

The first letter was quickly opened, deep brown eyes scanning the parchment. “Oh no…”

That was not an expected reaction, Gale’s shoulders tensing, his jaw tightening as he muttered slowly under his breath. “…Calimshan…lovely time…trinkets…”

Now Rugan was curious, the paper being lowered. Could it be Tav? Did he dare ask directly? “Bad news?”

“The worst,” Gale replied, slouching into a hard wooden chair at the table. “It’s from my mother.”

There was a sigh of relief, chased by a cough. “Your mum? Well, that’s good news, ain’t it?”

How could Gale explain he hadn’t seen his mother in quite a while, not since she had ventured off to see the world soon after her son had almost died? Life was too short, she’d explained, her bags packed, Tara taken as company. He’d wished her well and been happy for the odd letter from her. He certainly had not expected the news she had brought to him today. “She’s returning to Waterdeep.”

“Oh. You not happy with that? You’re always saying good stuff about her.”

“I am happy. You need not concern yourself with that. It is simply…unexpected, that’s all.”

“When does she arrive?”

Gale picked up the second letter, noticing the dates scattered around his neatly handwritten address. He opened it, skimming the page for the information he needed. “…Plenty of sun… future bride…” He choked on his words. His mother was trying to hook him up whilst she was away. Composing himself, he continued to read. “…Sand… Elient…” The date caused him to pause, a realisation of how long it had taken for the mail to reach them stirring up the sensation of a deep pit within his stomach.

Rugan reached over, taking the letter. “20. Elient… Fuck… That’s tomorrow.” He could already feel the tension rising in the air, see the way Gale kept his eyes pinned forward as if focused on a difficult conundrum. “Gale? You okay there?”

“I… Well, this is not the best of circumstances to find oneself in. My mother is an interesting woman, formidable perhaps, but an unexpected visit from her is not exactly ideal. I must prepare for her arrival.”

“And your work? What about the presentation and, you know, that important research?”

The question was batted away. Those things could wait. For now, a suitable meal, the guestroom, conversational topics, her favourite tea, as well as other much more challenging details needed to be arranged if she was to be kept happy.

“Gale? You’re not filling me with confidence here. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, nothing at all. I merely need to invest some time and effort into the tower. Do excuse me.”

Watching Gale leave, as if in a daze, did not help in easing Rugan’s concerns. Often had they spoken of their families, or at least Gale had at length, especially of the strength of will his mother held, but not once had it come with this sort of reaction. Rugan followed quietly, seeing how the bedsheets in the guest room were tossed aside in desperation. “Talk to me, poppet.”

Gale sighed. What was there to talk about? His mother was coming to visit, that was all. A big joyous family reunion where they would eat tiramisu together, drink kaeth, and she would tell many a story of her travels around Faerûn. What was there to be worried about, except the hollyphant that leant up against the doorframe, gazing at him with worry and love?

Perching himself on the end of the bed, Gale let the resignation take over his body. The weathered hand slipped into his own was welcome as he searched for the words to explain.

“I know it’s important. You’ve barely said more than two sentences to me. You that likes to lecture…” Rugan uttered, setting himself down on the mattress.

A dry chuckle was released, Gale finding truth in the words. “My mother, as you know, is a power in her own right, decisive, strong-willed. She is also the one whom raised me to be the man you see before you. You may have noticed, but rarely do I speak of my father.”

It wasn’t something difficult to see. Rugan had done the same, after all, but like with his own past, he knew certain topics were avoided for a reason. They were only shared when they were meant to be shared.

“My father left when I was young,” Gale continued slowly, his eyes drawn to the state of the cotton bedsheets now lying on the floor. “Eight years old and already too much of a handful, as I’m sure you’ll recognise even now. But it was not such an unpleasant experience. Life became far better without his involvement; however, it has left me with the rather troubling issue of feeling as if I owe my mother in some way.”

“Owe her? But she’s your mum.”

“Hm. Not owe so much then, but to make it up to her for all I’ve put her through, with my magic as a child, the Academy, Mystra…” Gale paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “She has cared for me far more than any other person in this world. Well, almost…” He lifted his head, a soft smile on his lips as he longed to place a kiss on the ones before him.

“So, you’re stressing because you’re thinking it’s going to be another let down? Gale, acclaimed professor at Blackstaff Academy, Hero of Baldur’s Gate, best arse in whole of Waterdeep?”

He couldn’t help but smile even as the doubts lay in his mind. “Ru… I wish it were that simple, but I’m afraid there is one minor detail…”

Rugan was glad to see the smile, the slight flush of the cheeks. “My arse is better? You can just tell me it is, you know.”

“Oh, how I wish it were something as pleasurable as that. No. It is, however, something that involves you. You see, my mother…” Gale held off on saying the rest. How could it be explained after all this time, when they had a wedding being organised, after all the months of living under the same roof? “She isn’t really aware of you, well, being a part of my life.”

“Ah…”

It was a lot to take in. After everything they had been through, Rugan somewhat believed that it was common knowledge of their relationship. They’d never shied away from displays of affection in public: the intimidate kiss in the marketplace once when Gale had smudged a little chocolate on his lip, their bodies finding one another in the darkened corner of The Yawning Portal. How could Morena Dekarios not have known?

Rugan sifted through the many questions that lay on his tongue, trying to find the right one that showed the elements of curiosity but also slight disappointment he was feeling. “I… When exactly did she leave Waterdeep?”

“Well, I do believe it was maybe two tenday before you attempted to pilfer from our home.”

“Hm… And you’ve not spoken with her at all since she left?”

“Oh. Well…” There was a deliberation of how to continue, Gale’s hands raising up as if trying to conjure the words using his magical touch. “It may have slipped my mind…” The raised eyebrow only added to the earlier pitted sensation.

“Slipped your-”

“Now, now, don’t be upset. Sending messages are limited in length. I can’t be expected to instil all details of our relationship into twenty-five words.”

Gritting his teeth was proving to be the only line of defence, stopping Rugan from beginning his interrogation. He wasn’t sure which was the worse feeling from the situation: the anger that stirred deep in his heart at having been an easily forgotten remnant of Gale’s life or, for the same reason, the understanding stirring in his head.

Rugan could only withdraw his hands trying to piece together anything that wouldn’t cause an argument. “Gale… Do I embarrass you or something?”

The extended silence was all he needed as an answer, as an icy chill blew through the window, as his doubts became truth.

“My love, it’s nothing like that. My mother, she is simply difficult to please and you-”

Before Gale could finish, his words were cut off, a built-up wave of self-doubt pouring from thin pale lips.

“Are what? Not good enough for her? Are not good enough for you? I thought we were past all this.” Emotions were pulled back, walls put up in place. They may have grown close, but this was not the time for displaying weakness; it was time for Rugan to return to his roots and stand his ground. “Send her a message right now. Tell her she’ll be meeting me as well.”

Gale dithered over his words, the tensions running high. He wasn’t ready to tell his mother about the relationship. It was not embarrassment of his partner, nor his partner’s shadowed past; it was simply a ridiculous notion that his mother had always paired him up with women. How would she react to see someone like Rugan in her son’s life? Would she accept it, or would it just be another let down? “Well, it’s not quite that simple.”

“Oh? Suddenly the twenty-five words are too much for you, for he with the practised tongue?” came a hissed reply, far pettier than either of them wished to hear, but the hurt was already there. It was better to be angry than for Rugan to admit he was hurt.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, Gale stood from the bed, leaving the sheets abandoned on the floor as he paced out of the room. “Now you’re being purposely obtuse. Look, I will go to work as initially planned and I will send something whilst I’m there.”

“Oh yeah? And whatever happened to sorting the guest room, preparing for her majesty’s visit?” Rugan called, following behind. Would he seriously be left to stew over this all day, to question everything? Hells, he’d nearly died for Gale over six months ago, and now they were arguing over the soon to be mother-in-law. It wasn’t worth it.

“Rugan. I do not appreciate that tone, especially with regard to my mother. I apologise for having not informed her sooner, but it has simply not been of importance.”

“Not been of… You’ve got to be shitting me.”

Grabbing his bag and quickly descending the stairs of the tower, Gale wanted out of there, especially before he dug any more of his own grave. He could hear Rugan shouting after him, hear the voice of his mother in his head criticising all his life choices. He’d bury his head in research and then, should time permit, sort everything else for her visit.

“Gale,” shouted Rugan, watching the shadow vanish down the stone steps. “No, I’m not done. You can’t just…” He took a deep breath, knowing he’d handled it badly. Rather than trying to work out why he’d been a second thought, he’d instead started attacking as per usual. Another fuckup in a long line of fuckups. “Bollocks.”

---

Morena Dekarios had spent over a year travelling around the region of Calimshan, her aged skin now a glowing bronze, her dresses now luxurious silks she had procured from various street merchants. Six months ago, she had overheard the odd accent in the background of one of her son’s sending spells, a male voice she did not recognise cutting in between a spoken sentence. Prick is not a term she’d often heard amongst the more well to do of the families in Waterdeep and she wondered what type of trouble Gale had managed to get into whilst she was away. She had written, of course, informing him of her return, but not once in the sending spells had he mentioned getting the letters.

She stood in her small shop on Waterdeep Way, wiping off the cobwebs from the old antiques she’d collected and signalling where the crates she’d brought over were to go. Tara watched her from a high-up shelf, a tale flicking impatiently.

“Now Tara, be a dear and go find my son, will you? I’m sure all the sand has cleared from your feathers by now.”

With a stretch, Tara pounced onto the shop’s countertop, trying to resist knocking a glass jar that stood before her. “Mrs Dekarios, we have only but arrived in Waterdeep and a day sooner than expected. Surely, he doesn’t need checking up on just yet.”

“Not checking up on, merely being a dutiful mother,” came a playful reply as a sheet was thrown aside, revealing a cupboard full of various nicknacks. 

“Hm… Appears to be much the same to me.”

“Shh. Fine.” Morena let out a cough as the dust reached her lungs. It would take more than a few sheets moved to have the store back in a good enough condition for customers again. “If you won’t check-up then maybe we should take a peruse of the markets, possibly stop for a tipple.”

A purr signified this was a much better idea, Tara stretching out her wings before hopping down onto the floor, and yet she knew it was not a simple trip out that Morena wished for. “The cafe near the academy, by any chance?”

“The very same.”

---

For the first hour, Rugan had paced the tower, reading the letters multiple times, mumbling to himself about the state of the guest room before changing all the sheets himself. He’d gone over the argument multiple times in his head. What he could have, should have said to change the outcome. Letting out a sigh, he glanced at the door. There was the option of his continued pacing, getting drunk ready for round two, or, for once, maybe he could make the right choice. He could fix things. He could buy tiramisu from the cafe they both liked, maybe some flowers for the guest room. Maybe he could even just pretend to be someone else for a day or two.

“Well, greetings Mrs Dekarios,” he attempted to say out loud in a faux impersonation of the elites he’d briefly met over his years, the enunciation of the vowels completely foreign to him. I sound like a right twat. Still, he continued, adding a strut to his impersonation. “That’s right, I’m your son’s fiancé… Oh, has he not informed you of our relationship? He has a rather splendid cock, if I do say so myself.” Gods, kill me.

Tiramisu would have to do. If Morena’s first image of Rugan was that he was the hired help, then so be it. They could always hide the relationship from her entirely, possibly move to a remote location on the other side of Toril to escape if needed.

Leaving the tower, he headed in the direction of the academy, the warm sunshine welcome for his mood. Midwinter was growing closer, sprinklings of snow happening on the colder days, and the evenings were drawing in, much to Rugan’s enjoyment. Gale and he would lie next to the fire together, the flames reflecting in the silver glint of Gale’s earring. Rugan would watch it shine as if pulled into a trance by the sapphire. Bloody wizard has cast a spell on me…

The small café was relatively quiet that afternoon, the tables outside empty due to the icy breeze. Only a few people sat indoors, watching the world go by as they peered over mugs and sugary desserts. At the front of the queue stood an older woman, her hand waving in random directions as she spoke to the clerk. A loose silk sleeve swayed around her wrist, the purples catching Rugan’s eye as they contrasted with the white shelves and pale icings before them. Her voice seemed to cut through the surroundings, the higher-class tones and focus on pronouncing each t displaying exactly the type of person she was.

Rugan bit his tongue. She wouldn’t be long. She would get her order and then she would be on her way. So much inane drivel she spouts.

“You’re lucky ma’am. This is the last tiramisu we have of the day,” the clerk spoke, handing over a delicate white box.

Shit. Rugan could feel his legs moving forward before she’d even had a chance to reply. The thought of losing this one opportunity to impress slipping through his fingertips. Pushing past her was met with an insulted shriek, but he refused to make eye-contact with her. Maybe if he ignored her, she would just leave, and the dessert would be his. The firm grip on his arm had not been expected.

Her voice was sharp and Rugan could only wish that the world would swallow him whole. It had been years since he’d been chastised in the way he was now, a pointed nail pressed firmly into his shirt, the deep brown eyes boring into his own. Who in the hells is this woman to think she can act this way?

“What sort of man believes he can push past like that? You are lucky that I am in a favourable mood today or else I might just call the guard!”

“Call them, see how I care.”

Rugan wasn’t thinking, the tiramisu forgotten, attempts at being prim and proper moving to the back burner with the contemptuous bitch that stood before him.

She took in an intake of breath, clearly not used to anyone talking back to her. The jabbing of her finger became more directed, an unusual strength behind it that made Rugan back up despite not wanting to. “My boy, you need to learn your place. Do you have any idea of whom you are speaking to?”

He didn’t care at this point, as his mild irritation merged with the buried anger of the morning. The clerk had seemingly vanished into the back room. The other customers of the café kept their heads down so as not to be dragged into the spectacle. “Honestly, love. Couldn’t give a rat’s arse who you are. All I know is that your voice is giving me a headache, and the sight of your clothing offends my eyes.” He reached a hand over to the box, pulling it closer to himself. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got places to be.”

The sound of shouting behind him brought a creased smirk to his face, a satisfaction that for the first time in ages he had stood his ground and got his way. He didn’t notice the tressym that emerged from under a table behind him, the way it held back the fireball for the protection of the others in the vicinity. Rugan, for once, felt like himself.

“I just don’t believe how someone of that type can even be allowed into an establishment like this. Did you see what he was wearing? Dressed like some common vagrant! Most likely a pickpocket of sorts.”

---

“Mrs Dekarios, he may have been all the various terms you have called him, but bothering the guard over a tiramisu is a waste of the city’s resources. Would it not be better to go back to the shop, or even have another parfait instead of continuing to speak of him?” Tara was growing bored with the conversation, how Morena had spent the last hour angrily sipping at her tea, glaring at the doorway to the café as if it might bring the pale-eyed stranger back for round two.

“Calimshan has clearly made you paranoid.”

Morena savoured the tea as it hit her tongue, the scent of honey making her shoulders relax. Tara was right as per usual. The man who had accosted her was not worth exerting so much energy over. Placing the cup down on the table, she let out a long-held sigh. “I just did not expect my first day back in Waterdeep to go as it has, is all. A year away and not even recognisable to the folk who live here. It’s rather upsetting.”

“Give it time,” Tara purred from the warm cushion she had curled herself up on. “Once the shop is up and running, the name Morena Dekarios will be known within these city walls once again.”

“And he will most certainly be barred.”

“I’ll set up the wards to keep him out myself.”

---

Presentations had come and gone; research had been arranged for the upcoming days, sorted by topic, importance, due dates, and Gale’s willingness to even look at the subjects. Though the revelation of his mother’s return still lingered in his mind, work had managed to provide the distraction it always did. The hours had passed, and it had only been during his lunch break that he had considered sending her the quick spell to say he’d got the letters and that she would be meeting Rugan with her visit. Despite this, the words wouldn’t come to him. Twenty-five or less to prepare her for the life-changing news? It couldn’t be done.

You will be meeting my boyfriend. No, far too immature. Partner? Rather distant… Fiancé? But that means explaining the entire situation. Mother, this is Rugan? No, he’s not just a friend. Gale was going through the various scenarios in his head, each one becoming more outlandish. His lips moved as he mouthed his part of the imaginary discussion, seeing his mother’s confused face before him. No Mother, not like the vampire? More intimate. Like Tav? Well, you see Tav… It wasuseless. His love life was something that needed to be discussed directly and not through limited messages where meanings could be confused. With any luck, she would simply see them together and understand everything without the need for conversation.

The return home was slower than usual, tension in his shoulders at what he needed to prepare once at the tower. There would be the bedsheets he had abandoned during his impromptu escape, flowers required, an assortment of meals, wine. The considerable amount of wine. He only hoped that Rugan hadn’t spent the hours drinking as had happened with previous arguments.

Gale slipped through the large oak door, listening for the sound of footsteps on the floor above, only to be met with silence. He crept up the stone steps, his long shadow before him giving away his presence. It was as he reached the upper floor that the dulcet tones of the piano drifted through the air and he caught the aroma of a pot simmering away in the kitchen. Candles had been lit and various bouquets of flowers had been strategically placed around the room, all in various shades of blue. Had something happened whilst he was away? The surprise visit of his mother? Possibly Tara had let her in, and they had prepared this for him whilst he was at the academy. But then what of Rugan? Would he drunkenly appear back from a bar when his coin purse had run dry?

The answer came in the form of blonde hair neatly tied back in a loose ponytail, the scent of cologne on freshly shaven skin. The usual scruffy shirt that Gale had grown used to had been replaced by one of deep green with a silver embroidered trim.

“Mr Dekarios…Gale, welcome home,” spoke Rugan, his back straightened and heart pounding at the thoughts of what response he would get. “Dinner is almost ready, and I have prepared the guest room for your mother.”

Stuttering over his words, Gale approached, the sight before him one he had only ever dreamt of. Rugan was almost like a different person: sober, the effort made, a solution to all the problems that would come in the morning. With the yearning within him at the sight, Gale knew words were not needed with the actions he wanted to take. The shirt could be removed with a mage hand whilst his own threaded through the locks. Cologne would cloud with musk, merging with the scent of fresh bedsheets.

“I hope my attire is of a satisfactory-”

A breath caught as lips met, Rugan taken aback by the sudden forcefulness that had come at him. This had not been the expected outcome, but he was not going to fight it. He backed up, his hands sliding under heavy robes and pushing them aside. “Far too many layers,” he grumbled, his fingertips finding cotton and not desired flesh. Was he to keep up the act of the prim and proper fiancé, or resort back to the rough-and-ready lover that consumed so easily?

The whisper of a spell, delicate weave-touched hands lacing between strands of pale hair. Gale didn’t know what was coming over him, the feeling of his tongue tracing up the side of Rugan’s neck, the heat building between them. “Bedroom,” was all he could mumble as he pressed his body forward, feeling the strain of holding back take over him.

Navy sheets creased under the weight as they fell upon the bed, desperate hands grasping at heated bodies. Blonde hair splayed out, loosened from the bindings that had held it, one of Gale’s hands weaving through it, the other frantically pulling at the drawstrings of Rugan’s trousers.

As a warm palm found what it sought, Rugan released a gasp. “Never seen you like this before.”

“You’ve never prepared dinner before,” came a hastened reply as Gale trailed kisses down the slightly softened abdomen before him. The mage hand had done its job, leaving the green shirt in the doorway, but now he wanted more, to see how long it would take for Rugan to return to his crude and primitive ways. With the deep moan that came from the shift of Gale’s palm, he knew it would not be long.

“Mr Dekarios!” came the piercing screech from the balcony. Tara stood, wings spread and back arched in the open doorway, her feathers bristled, and ears tucked back. Which shocked her most - the sight of Rugan, red faced and muttering obscenities, or Gale’s hand caressing a very clear bulge under leather - she did not know.

Gale was the first to react, whipping his hand from the trousers and spinning to not only face her but shield Rugan from view. “Tara,” he called out, the rising lilt of his voice slightly more shaken than he would’ve liked. “I wasn’t expecting you. Me and Rugan were just…” He glanced back, the steady rise and fall of the chest he’d just had his lips upon beckoning him once again.

“Do not think me a fool, Mr Dekarios. I know exactly the activities you were partaking in, but you can tell your hussy to leave. I’m in no mood for rutting nor excuses.”

Coming to his senses, Rugan sat up, his hand instinctively hugging around the scarring that lay across his stomach. “Did the cat just call me a hussy?”

As candlelight hit his features, the revelation hit Tara. She knew the one that lay beside her friend, the blonde hair and pale blue eyes. “Wait! You’re the scoundrel from the café!”

Gale looked between the two, his heart rate steadying as the shock wore off. “Café? Tara, what in the world is going on?”

Claws were drawn ready to attack, the thoughts of the fireball lying at the forefront of her mind as she watched Rugan move to the edge of the bed.

“Gale, what’s with the cat?”

“She’s not a cat; she’s a Tressym.”

“Flying cat then. Never seen much of a different between pussies myself…”

Tara hissed at the disgusting remark. How could Gale be in bed with such a loathsome excuse of a man? “Revolting. Have him leave this instant,” she commanded, her dark eyes glowing with the embers of the charging spell. 

Gale was quick to stand, thankful that his own clothes had remained mostly untouched. “Now Tara, calm down. Rugan was simply-”

“Leaving, quite right,” she finished.

Rugan rolled his eyes, the idea that a cat would make demands of him almost as ridiculous as Friol once trying to do so. “Look. Tara, was it? Hate to tell you, but I’m here to stay. Now, you were sort of interrupting something. So, want to go and catch some mice or pigeons or whatever it is you things do?”

“You things?” Tara was already annoyed enough by the events in the café, but this was the final straw. Without warning, she unleashed the held spell, the fire licking from her paws as it flew forward. She felt the heat of the flames, the power behind the blast. Gale could easily withstand this, but with any luck, his foul tongued consort would turn to cinders.

“Impero tibi,” shouted Gale with the flick of his wrist, the spell fizzling out before any damage could be done. If this was the meeting between his friend and fiancé, then what chance would there be that any survived when his mother entered the fray? He stared down at Tara, his body a barrier, his brow creased in frustration at the participants and their immaturity.

“Mr Dekarios, I apologise. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Clearly,” he responded through gritted teeth. “Tara, I know not of the previous interactions you have had with my…” Gale took a breath, attempting to regain some composure. “Either way, to carry on in such a manner is simply inexcusable. You will cease your nonsensical display and act civil. Do I make myself clear?” He turned, gesturing to Rugan. “That goes for both of you.”

Both Rugan and Tara lowered their head, the scolding from Gale well deserved. Apologies were muttered, with Rugan nervously rising from the bed and going in search of his shirt.

“Think I left the hob on…”

Hissing, back arched as he crept past, Tara did not hide her distaste, but at least she had the privacy she’d wanted.

Gale slumped back on the edge of the bed, running a tired hand back through his dark hair. “Tara…” he sighed as irritation seeped out of him. One moment of lust gone, problems coming far sooner than expected. He just needed a moment to strategize.

“He insulted your mother earlier. It’s lucky you were here.”

“My mother?”

“Hm,” Tara hummed, hopping up onto the bed and kneading the sheets with her paws. “Said her clothes offended him. Stole the tiramisu we had bought.”

Wanting to argue was his first instinct, but unfortunately, it sounded like a probable scenario for Rugan to get caught in. Morena was also not known for her abilities to be subtle and so it was of no surprise they had ended up in a battle of words. “And where exactly is she now? At the shop, I presume, anticipating I’ll come by with a bottle of Waterdhavian Fields Finest?”

Tara settled on the bed beside him, relishing in the feeling of the warm sheets around her. The scent of Rugan may have been embedded in them, but she found it wasn’t the worst of smells to be close to. In some ways, it reminded her of wood laden campfires. “You mother is currently dealing with the Zhentarim,” she mentioned offhandedly.

Gale nodded, the comment not really anything of relevance as he heard Rugan potter around the kitchen. The odd swear word could be heard as items had been misplaced, or the bitter smell of something burnt was released from the pan. I guess he really did leave the hob on. Pity, I’m sure it would have been a fine-

Lightning struck Gale’s mind, the words finally hitting home.“Zhentarim?” Gale questioned suddenly. “Tara, did I hear you correctly? My mother is with the Zhentarim?”

Tara stretched upon the sheets, her tail extending out behind her with a brief flick. “Oh, do not worry. They were trying to steal something from the shop, and you know how she is. She refused to let it go, didn’t she.”

“She refused?” Each remark was becoming even more outlandish. “Are you trying to inform me that my mother, the formidable Mrs Dekarios, has gone after the thieves?”

“Something like that, yes.”

Was it frustration or fear that stirred under his skin, the idea that his mother was in danger rushing over him? Tara did not seem worried, but then she had no idea of the goings on in the city for the last eighteen months. All he could do was hope that the dwindling numbers of the mercenaries had remained that way, and that his mother would remain quiet, at least in terms of shouting around his name. The chance of the latter, though, was almost zero. “Oh, for the love of…” he exhaled, lifting himself from the bed and quickly leaving for the kitchen.

“Piece of…” Rugan scowled as the lid of the pan released steam towards him.

“Ru…”

The voice behind him caused him to falter, the pan lid dropping once again as the oven mitt did little to help aside from making his grip sloppy. “What?” he snapped impatiently before pulling back his words, trying to go back to the helpful and polite mask he had held so well at the start of the evening. “I mean… yes, Gale.”

“I hate to request this of you. But I am in need of your help.”

There was a tremor behind Gale’s voice, an uncertainty. Rugan was reminded of their first kiss, of batted hands and denied feelings in a dimly lit classroom. “What can I do for you?” He tried his best to keep up the act, sliding off the oven mitt, straightening the now ruffled shirt, but that tremor was too much to ignore.

“I’ll have you know for the last thirty-five years I have served the people of this city and not once has a pathetic minion of your establishment been so stupid as to try to steal from my store.”

They have my mother. Those four words were all it took for Rugan’s act to drop, for the cooking to be abandoned and the crossbow to be armed at his side. The cat may have tried to kill him, the mother may have tried to publicly humiliate him, but for Gale, Rugan would take on Pereghost if it meant not having to witness sadness in the chocolate brown eyes he’d come to love.

“Friol, I’m sorry, she just-”

“And to think, I then have to come all this way to your sickening excuse of a hideout to collect my goods back because your boys were too scared to face me.”

“I tried to have her-”

“Do you mind with your interruptions?! I’m trying to talk!”

Dekarios. Another one Friol had found herself having the misfortune of dealing with. As if the run-ins with Gale hadn’t been bad enough over the last eighteen months, a warehouse destroyed, her forces wiped out by the undead, but she was now faced with the wizard’s own mother. Over an hour the complaining had gone on for, first starting in the main bar, the owner demanded, before eventually being moved into a back room.

“And I am still yet to see any of my goods!” Morena continued, little fear at the mercenaries that avoided her pointed gaze.

Friol watched as Darnys gave up her own apologies and vanished back to the bar, a hint of relief in her light steps. They would all unfortunately be here for some time, hearing the squawking and belittlement. Hand the items over? Kill a Dekarios? A much more satisfying experience.

“Do you not have anything to say for yourself? I come all this way across town, and I’m yet to even be offered a small drink by way of an apology.”

A drink does sound good about now. Friol lifted an arm, vaguely gesturing to a couple of chairs set by a small wooden table. “Whiskey?”

Morena watched as the gnome moved, suspicious of the sudden offering. “Just the one.”

---

Rugan listened to the explanation from both Tara and Gale, of how Morena had found members of the Zhentarim in her shop, antiques manhandled and stuffed into a large sack. From there she had screamed for the guard only to then have given chase, dress billowing behind her throughout the streets. She’d been a force to reckon with inside the confines of the cafe, but to go after known armed mercenaries; she couldn’t have been that stupid, could she?

Following the pair down a darkened back alley, Rugan finally spoke up. “So, what you’re saying isn’t so much that the Zhents have taken the silly bint, but more she’s picked a fight?”

“Rugan,” snapped Gale.

“Sorry… But honestly, you’ve got to be joking.”

Tara interjected. “Not particularly bright is he, Mr Dekarios?”

“You’re not exactly being helpful, Tara,” came the retort as Gale turned a corner, spotting in the distance the tavern Friol had used as a base of operations so many months ago.

The party grew quiet, trying to decide on the next steps. In the past, it would have been easy to just walk through the front door, but by the look of the half-orc guarding the place and the patrons who were suspiciously well equipped for battle, they knew that would not be the best plan of attack.

Gale was the first to speak up, directing Tara to take an aerial approach to scout for any sign of his mother. “Rugan and I will follow on foot and possibly gain access via a side window.”

“Nah, mate. There’s an easier way.”

Both Gale and Tara were confused that Rugan would have a strategically better plan thought out, but the confidence in how he spoke was undeniable.

“We’re listening,” came an impatient reply as Tara licked her paw, flicking it over a pointed ear.

Rugan felt very much on the spot as the two stared in his direction, each curious as to what his idea was. It wasn’t so much a formulated scheme as it was more one of the stupider bluffs that had worked in the past. “Well, we sort of just walk in.”

The circling fingers on the temples were noticeable, the flick of the tressym’s tale unmistakable as a response without words.

“Now don’t get me wrong, Gale. I know how it sounds. But there’s a whole new batch of recruits in there. We just go up, mumble a password or two and they’ll let us right in.”

Rubbing at tired eyes, Gale was unsure if his worry for his mother was clouding his judgement or not. “Are you seriously suggesting that we impersonate members of the Zhentarim in order to infiltrate their ranks and rescue my mother?”

Hearing it worded as a legitimate ploy gave Rugan a sense of pride. This wasn’t some last-ditch attempt, plans B through Z failed; it was a thought-out move, a tactic. “In not so many words, yeah. You can disguise yourself, right?”

“Of course. That wouldn’t take much skill at all.”

“Yeah, you’d be surprised.” Rugan had seen the disguises before: men trying to be taller than they were just to get caught out as something flew through their illusionary heads, women appearing masculine until they opened their mouths and spoke. “Show me.”

“Omnia mutantur.” In the blink of an eye, Gale had altered his form, his hair becoming shorter and flitting over his eyebrows. Darkened eyes had become a shade of green, and heavy robes had become a solid leather armour over his trim figure.

To Rugan, though, something was still off. Maybe he just knew too well of what to look for to see it was Gale: the tense broad shoulders, the hand that seemed to never stay still. Test time. “Gale, if we come across a nice lass in there, what would you do?”

“An odd question, given the circumstances…”

“Humour me.”

“Well, I suppose first would be to greet the woman before me, possibly give a shake of her hand if she is of the persuasion-”

“You ask if she’s free a quickie.”

Gale choked on his words before he could get them out, the thought of speaking with someone, let alone someone of the opposite sex in that manner completely foreign to him. “I beg your pardon.”

Rugan stepped forward, his firm hands placed on Gale’s shoulders. “You need to slouch. Pull the stick from your arse.”

“Ru-”

“Nah, enough of that. You want to get your mum out of there safely? You need to stop being yourself for once.”

The words hurt. After a long time of learning to accept himself, Gale now found it difficult to be told otherwise from someone he loved. “Surely there must be a more appropriate form of mannerisms within the organisation.”

“Not at grunt level.” Rugan kept his hands on Gale, rubbing softly in a hope of bringing some relaxation to the muscles before him. “Think of it like acting, your stories and that.”

“Talvadar.”

“Yeah, him…” Glancing over at Tara, Rugan pulled Gale aside, an arm wrapped around his shoulder. The words spoken between them were hushed so as she would not hear them. “Poppet, trust me. I know this is tough, trying to be something you’re not, but if anyone can pull it off, it’s you.”

“Sometimes I believe you have instilled far too much faith in these damaged hands.”

“Only as much as you’ve put in mine.” Rugan placed a soft kiss to Gale’s forehead, looking into green eyes he did not recognise but seeing the love deep beneath them. “Think you could just say an insult for me?”

Gale let out a dry chuckle, a little relieved that he was reminded this was all just a temporary request. He thought over insults made by Astarion, words used by Karlach, even some of own curses that he’d uttered under his breath when first edition books had been taken from his grasp. “Well, possibly… you’re impertinent.”

A long-drawn-out sigh was released, spelling out that impertinent was not quite the answer sought.

“You require something a little more obtuse, I suppose?”

“Something with less than four syllables for a start. Call me a wanker.”

Gale turned the word over in his mouth. Years of manners and etiquette being pushed down to spoil his tongue with such terminology. He kept the thought of saving his mother in his mind, knowing they had spent far too long dawdling about as it was. Quietly, he uttered the word, hoping to avoid Tara’s keen hearing. “Wanker…”

“Sorry mate, didn’t hear that. You say something?”

“Please don’t make me say it again.”

“You starting something?” Rugan pushed, hoping some instinct would result in Gale showing another side, possibly the one seen behind closed doors earlier that evening.

“Wanker,” came a muffled response, a leather boot shuffling on stone cobbles.

You’re taking the piss now. “Right, bollocks to your idiotic mum. The cat can figure it out itself.”

With the dismissal and insult, Gale finally spoke up, all the pent-up resentment, the years of letting people walk over him breaking through. “You absolute wanker.”

Rugan smirked at the reaction. There was a bit too much enunciation on the vowels, but it was a good start. “Stick out of arse,” he taunted.

“Fuck off with your stick,” Gale sneered, pacing towards the tavern.

Tara could only spring into action, taking to the skies as she watched Gale advance with a laughing Rugan behind him. Such a poor influence on the boy.

---

Laughter rang out in the back room of The Sleeping Snake tavern, the whiskey bottle mostly empty between the two women. What had started as a tense exchange of words had become a lot lighter with the revelation of who exactly Morena Dekarios was and her history with the Zhentarim in Waterdeep. It seemed in some way she was a supplier of goods, all through legitimate means, an official paper trail and a rumoured relationship with one of the higher ups in Neverwinter. Everything was above board and for the last three decades, she had been running her store within the city, until a year ago when she had left to travel.

With the changing of Friol’s recruits so often, it was not surprising that some had seen an empty antique store as a good place to loot, leaving her with the task of apologising and hoping business connections could remain intact. The whiskey had been the right choice, leaving them both loose tongued but merry.

“And would you believe my own son didn’t even write to me during my time away?”

“Gale? Well, that’s really no surprise now that he and Rugan are a thing.” She practically spat the latter name, the mention of him leaving an off taste in her mouth.

“Rugan?” Morena’s interest was piqued, her cheeks flush from the alcohol and stuffy backroom she’d found herself drinking in. The few items from her shop had been placed by her side some time ago, but the gossip of Waterdeep had been enough to keep her seated. “You mean to tell me my son is in a relationship?”

A glass was knocked back, the warm liquid a relief. “Yep, a year or so now. Not that Rugan is worth talking about. Blonde streak of piss he is.”

“You know him well then, I take it?”

“Unfortunately. Used to be a colleague of sorts. Got too old for the business or something.”

Whether it was the whiskey or the exhaustion from her travels, she did not know, but Morena wasn’t so much interested in Rugan’s past as she was in his present situation. “So, he has a business…?”

Friol scoffed. “Useless prick didn’t even have his own home until he holed up with your son.”

“But he at least has steady employment, correct?”

“Got sacked from The Ship’s Wheel last I heard.”

Morena couldn’t help but worry for her son, that his kind nature had been taken advantage of by an older scoundrel. “Tell me he at least cares for my boy.”

“Would Gale keep him around if he didn’t?”

“Gale has kept around far worse things for longer,” came the bitter reply, the memories of Mystra’s will wrapped around him, causing Morena to pour herself another drink.

Friol sighed. It would be so easy to omit truths and say that the pair constantly argued, brought the worst out in each other, and wreaked havoc on the city, but she couldn’t find it in herself to do so. “Rugan is a complete bastard, through and through,” she replied, “but he’s a bastard with a heart. He’s rough around the edges, ill mannered, and not particularly skilled in anything but drinking, but he’s honest.”

“Well, sometimes that’s the only thing one can ask for.”

---

“Nah, you tosser. You’re going to let me and my associate- friend in or else I’m going singe your eyebrows off. How’s that sound?”

Rugan peered over Gale’s shoulder with a head raise at the confused half orc. The acting was going well, attitude given, shoulders relaxed. The upper-class twang Rugan so loathed couldn’t even be heard for the first time in months. “Little serpent, long shadow is what he’s going for, Tiny.”

The half orc accepted the dated code, a brief nod before stepping aside and letting the pair enter the tavern. They were met with shaded windows, wary eyes observing their movements.

Stepping up to the bar, Gale deliberated momentarily over what would be a suitable drink to order before simply slamming his hand down and requesting something strong. He turned his back on the confused bartender, who glanced at Rugan, shaking his head.

A small glass of a steaming cherry red liquid was placed behind on the darkened wood. Possibly Jhuild, or was it some Hultail spirits that attempted to melt through the glass? Gale didn’t dare sip the concoction, instead choosing to appear as intimidating as he could whilst keeping an ear out for anything that pointed to the location of his mother.

Rugan sided up next to him, elbows on the bar, refusing to make eye contact. This wasn’t the place for whispering sweet nothings or even a compliment; it was a place for looking for work, or better yet, a quick fuck.

A cackle sounded from behind a closed oak door, feminine and intoxicated, followed by the raised voices of Tara and two other women. “A fireball?! In the bedroom!? His hand was where!?”

Gale immediately recognised the laugh of that of his mother, pushing himself over the bar and towards the door. It was with that the patrons of the tavern stood, ready to protect their leader.

“You might not want to-” Rugan was too slow to stop the door from swinging open and stopping Gale from vanishing behind it. “Fuck…”

“Thought you could just come back?” A tight palm closed on Rugan’s shoulder, a gruff voice snarling in his ear from the owner behind him. “Darnys over there has been waiting a long while for you.” A dirty nail signalled to the dark-haired woman sitting in a dimly lit corner.

Rugan sucked in a breath, his hand going down to the crossbow at his side. He could see the eyes of Darnys glinting in the candlelight, the corners of her mouth curved in a smile as if she were a cat playing with a trapped mouse.

Before the grasp on his arm grew any tighter, Rugan swiped at the abandoned liquor, tossing the contents into the face of the brute behind him. A savage shout was released as the liquid met flesh and he used the opportunity to raise his crossbow, bolts fired in Darnys’ direction as well as at the other mercenaries that closed in on his position.

Hopping over the bar was not what his joints wanted, as he felt the impact of landing on the sticky floor beneath. Voices could be heard behind him, commands shouted to kill him. His eyes caught the sight of the surrounding bottles, wishing for a moment he had access to Gale’s firebolt spell. Alchemist’s Fire always there when he needed it.

With the yelling came more commotion from the back room and as the door swung open, Rugan was surprised to see the small feet of Friol in front of him, her cheeks reddened and her long-forgotten scowl very much present.  

“Stand down!” she ordered, her voice forcing all present to back down.

Even Rugan himself felt the need to lower his crossbow. Where’s Gale? Is he hurt? Has she killed him and what of his mother? The grip on the crossbow tightened, the string pulled taut as the need to fire took over. I’ll kill her. If she has harmed one hair on his head, I’ll kill her.

Tussled dark hair and a beaming grin looked down at Rugan from behind the gnome. Deep brown eyes shone bright with relief. Gone was the disguise, leaving Gale visible once again, but there was no fear in his features, only the satisfaction at a job completed. In his arms was Tara, looking as smug as any fattened house cat.

“What in the hells?” was all Rugan managed to get out before he felt the warm call of sleep fall over him, the world going dark around him, and the sound of someone complaining about tiramisu.

---

Sunlight streamed through the window over the navy sheets wrapped around Rugan’s scarred midsection. He couldn’t remember getting home after the tavern, didn’t know at what point he had lost his clothing, and all he was aware of were the muffled voices coming from the living room. He lay for some time listening, the quiet voices of Gale and Morena somewhat calming after a year of silent mornings in the tower.

“Can’t believe Tara caught you in the act. Gale, why did you not tell me of him?”

“I suppose after Mystra, after Tav, I was afraid in some way of disappointing you.”

So, Gale was embarrassed by me, by my past. Rugan rolled over, unsure if he wanted to hear the rest of their conversation.

“For you to find out I had once again fallen in love, to see the doubt in your eyes. I wonder on what odds you and her have placed on this relationship.”

“Does he make you happy?”

Rugan sat up, hearing the question. Surely there was more to her questions than that? A lecture of sorts, a rant about his personality, appearance, history.

“More than I’ve ever known,” came the answer. “He by all means is rather crude, and he has a past, as do we all, but with him, I feel like a better man. Not just good enough for someone, a consolation prize of sorts, but valued, loved.”  

“Then I suppose if I were to place a wager, I’d be in for very good winnings indeed.”

Getting changed silently, Rugan thought about how he was going to appear. He’d already met and insulted Morena, already showed his true colours, so playing the part, disguising himself seemed pointless. He also could not hide in the bedroom until she left. Meeting her would have to happen. He swallowed his nerves and pushed open the door, trying to iron down the creases of his used shirt with his hands.

The flowers he’d bought brought colour to the room. The smell of freshly made kaeth floated through the air and before he had time to change his mind, he saw the faces of Gale and Morena glancing up expectantly at him.

She got up from the small wooden seat at the table, Rugan’s usual spot, and approached him, her back straight and strength regained after the evening’s events. The dress from the day before had been replaced with a now even gaudier purple and orange one, the sleeves somehow even looser. “Sleep well?”

“If you can call it that, yeah.”

A smile crept over her red lipstick. “Consider it payment for the tiramisu.”

He wanted to mumble that she was abitch, but he bit back the insult, knowing on some level he deserved it. They were all safe, that’s all that mattered.

Morena wrapped her arms around him, an overpowering floral perfume absorbed into the fibres of her bright dress, and Rugan had to resist pushing her away or calling for Gale’s help. After a moment he relaxed, the warmth from her similar to one he already knew, the acceptance and love clear in the one simple gesture. Quietly, he heard her speak, her voice clear but concise. “Do you love him?”

He caught the sight of a wary Gale over her shoulder, brown eyes that matched hers, the same thick dark hair that lay in Rugan’s peripheral vision. He could only give a small nod into the crook of her neck, calming as she hugged him a little tighter, feeling the sensation of a home, a mother, that had accepted him.

---

The morning passed over discussions of the upcoming wedding, Rugan trying to keep himself from saying how much he hated the idea of the whole Dekarios clan being there, Gale trying not to correct the behaviour used at the table when Rugan decided a steak knife was perfectly acceptable to slice a sponge cake with.  

Both were glad when it approached noon and Morena made up her mind to head back to the shop to sort the stock, leaving them both exhausted but side eyeing each other at the thoughts of what had been interrupted the night before.

“Well, Rugan, free for a quickie?”

[andieluvsduckie]

my entire collection of buffy/angel books (ignore my stupid fucking finger in the picture arghhh goddamn it)

[jannacalendar]

After a lot of editing, deleting, yelling at the Google Doc, and deleting some more, the third chapter of my Jenny Lives AU is up! Something I wish we would have been able to see more of in the show is how Jenny recovered and came to terms with her possession, which I have explored in this update.

Eventually some peaceful sleep was granted to her and the spring in her step returned laboriously, but one obstacle she could not overcome was a return to the library. Specifically, going to talk to the man who inhabited it. Jenny had been avoiding Rupert and his dwellings for her own sake. Knowing how much resentment she was harboring for what had happened, she feared snapping at him and saying something she could never take back. It scared her that at times, when this thought came to mind, she felt a want to go and do just that. Scream and shout at him until her throat was raw and they were past the point of no return. Rupert did himself no favors by suspiciously hovering around the corridors that led to her classroom. He never said anything, but he’d mastered a pained expression for her benefit. Jenny found herself starting to get really pissed off when she saw him, in lieu of her former delight whenever they crossed paths.

I also got to write more of the Scoobies in this one, which was fun! I think we're all on the same 'we wish Jenny and Willow would have interacted more' page and I will be indulging in that dynamic more as we go forward.

“For you!” The girl exclaimed, her hand shaking as if she was concerned her teacher was going to take the offering and launch it at her head. Jenny took the bag and peered into it, appreciatively looking down on the blueberry muffin that awaited her. She’d skipped breakfast that morning. Well, she tended to skip breakfast every morning, constantly running late, but she was particularly feeling the consequences for her bad organization that day. “You’ve missed a crazy week.” “How crazy are we talking?” Jenny asked through a bite of her snack. Willow invited herself into the seat opposite her and Jenny did not mind her company one bit. Since she had removed herself from the supernatural goings on around Sunnydale, Willow had taken to filling her in on both the mystical news and her own personal developments. It had been uncharacteristically quiet in recent days, but clearly the universe had been lulling them into a false sense of normality.  “Two Slayer crazy!” Jenny choked on her muffin.  “Two Slayers? What about that whole: in every generation there is a chosen one spiel?” “Well, Buffy technically died last year, right? So it activated another Slayer. She’s called Kendra, she’s weird.” “Weird how?” “She’s like a girl Giles, she’s read all these books and doesn’t go out-”