#custom signs AL

[buckyalpine]

Fluff, domestic cuteness, more fluff, I know it’s not everyone’s thing but pleaseee hear me out; just imagine beeeefy paramedic Bucky taking care of you when you’re in labor. You’re ex decided to leave halfway, realizing he wasn’t ready to be a father when you were already midway through your pregnancy, not that he was much help in the first place. You managed all on your own, ready to bring your little baby into the world all by yourself which is exactly how you ended up in this situation.

You were so close to your due date, ready to pop at any moment but your cravings for a donut didn't cease so you waddled down to the corner coffee shop in hopes of getting something with double chocolate.

Everything was fine until another customer bumped into you, sending you tumbling to the floor. A sudden sharp searin pain began to radiate through the lower half of your belly making you cry out in pain and it didn't take long for a crowd to form, the number of shouting voices and concerned faces adding to your growing anxiety. Al elderly woman held you hand while you tried to hold back tears; you couldn't get up, still laying on the floor when the faint sound of an ambulance grew louder.

A firm voice cleared the path, 2 large men walking towards you, ushering the crowd away from you first. The one with brunette hair crouches over to you, giving you a comforting smile before asking you a few quick basic questions, all while neatly looking over you for any signs of a major injury.

“Up you go, mama” he lifted you up with 0 effort, carrying you carefully in his thick arms, laying you down gently onto the stretcher. A sudden contraction rips through you causing you to panic more while your on your way to the hospital but he takes your hand in his, giving it a squeeze.

"Hey, its okay, look at me doll, focus on me alright?" He continue to hold your hand while monitoring your heart rate and vitals, timing your contractions since they're happening closer and closer together. "I know it won't make the pain go away but how about I try and distract you, hm? My names James but you can call me Bucky" He threw you a wink while you tried your best to focus on the feel of his hand, calloused palms from lifting, yet soft and warm. You focused on his baby blue eyes and scruffy beard and sweet pink lips that curve into a half smile; no doubt he was a shy charmer.

As soon as the ambulance stops, you're whisked away to the delivery ward, poked and prodded by doctors again. None of this was part of the plan and the pain was getting worse.

"How's she doing" Bucky came by the ward on his break, curious about the sweet thing he helped earlier in the day; surely you had a partner of some sort but he couldn't help himself nonetheless. The doctor directed him to your room, his heart breaking seeing your tear streaked, terrified face.

"Everything alright, mama?" He knew you were scared, hell, he was scared himself just thinking about the situation. He rested his hand on top of yours, careful not to touch anywhere near needles. You'd been at this hospital for 2 hours already and you were still alone without another visitor in sight. "Is uh-anyone-do you want me to call anyone-

You shook your head, biting down on your lip to keep it from trembling, gripping onto him tighter. The pain was becoming unbearable, alerting the doctor and nurse to check on you again.

"She's gonna have to start pushing" You overheard the nurse as she spoke to the doctor, your heartrate racing more. Your panic stricken face wasn't missed by Bucky, still planted in his seat as if he had any business being there. He debated on if you felt comfortable with him there, ready to go or stay, whatever you needed.

"Doll, it's almost time, I can leave-

"Please-please don't go" You shakily cling onto his hand, now frozen in fear when you realize the moment is coming. The baby is almost here and you're alone. There's no one here to support you, no one here to-

"M'not going anywhere, I'm here, you're doin' great" Bucky let you squeeze his hand as tightly as you wanted, coaching you through your breathing while you were prepared to have the baby. "C'mon, push mama, you can do it, almost there"

You were in tears, sweating, crying, and Bucky couldn't help but find you beautiful. Not that he'd say that right then and there but there was something so raw and powerful in that moment, seeing you give yourself to bring in another life. He watched in awe as you fought with your body to push a human out of you.

"One more, just one more and your little one is here, you can do it doll, one last big push" He dabbed your forehead with a cool cloth, comforting you until you let out a final gasp, tiny screams filling the room. You fall back against the bed panting and he still holds your hand, gently rubbing your knuckles while giving you a proud smile.

"You did it, you did amazing mama"

-

After your baby boy is born, you still occasionally visit the hospital for checkups. You can't help the way your cheeks heat up every time you see Bucky, giving him a shy smile, lingering to talk to him longer than necessary every time you see him. You insisted on buying him and the rest of the paramedic crew coffee and donuts for helping you safely deliver your baby boy. Bucky blushes when you give him an extra donuts as a special thank you.

Each time he sees you, he likes you even more but he doesn't want to push his luck. Not when you're probably still trying to figure things out. Initially he's a little unsure, wanting to give you some space. He's also careful not to overstep any boundaries, making sure he's respectful.

Eventually he can't help himself.

He has to ask you out.

And he does.

3 years and a wedding later

You giggle watching your husband and son both press their heads against your swollen belly, whispering secrets to the little one growing inside as if you couldn't see them.

"Daddy, can she hear us?" Daniel asks with wide eyes, his little hands trying to feel the places where his baby sister was kicking.

"She can hear you baby, let her know you're gonna be her big brother" Bucky chuckled while Daniel continued to talk to your belly like he did every night ever since you found out you were pregnant.

"I can't wait to meet you" He hugs your tummy before crawling into Bucky's arms, ready to go to bed. Bucky takes him to his room, laying him down and tucking him in, pressing a kiss to his head before turning off the lights.

"Sleep tight little man"

"Night, daddy"

-

Your second pregnancy is nothing like your fist. Bucky is there by your side for every second of it. He takes time off work, cradling your belly so you don't have back pain. He reads up on books to take care of your cravings. He worships your changing body.

"Look at you, Mrs. Barnes" Bucky cooed, loving the way you filled out his Henley, your little belly stretching it while you pouted at him.

"I'm huge Bucky" you whined while he grinned, rubbing your tummy.

"S'cause you're carrying my baby, mama" He kissed your head, his large form scooping you up for some midday cuddles. He holds your close to his chest, excited over his growing family. You smile against his chest, closing your eyes while he rubs your back.

You're so happy you decided you wanted a donut.

[tinietaehyun]

INVITE ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

[Vampire!Beomgyu x Herbalist!Reader] [One shot]

Pairing: Vampire!Beomgyu x Herbalist!Reader

Genres: Romance, supernatural, fantasy, fluff, thriller.

Contains: suggestive themes, mentions of biting, blood, bleeding, injury, asphyxiation, profanity, a smidge of forbidden!love, romance.

Links: Masterlist

Note: Buckle up it’s a long one folks!

Summary: In your village, a rather handsome man captures your gaze. He truly does look as though he fell from the heavens above with his flawless face and body - something that had garnered quite the bit of attention from everyone in the village.

Though for some reason, you felt as though recently you had been seeing the mysteriously beautiful man more often, not only that, but he was in fact sharing glances, even smirking at you leaving you nothing but flustered. As lovely as all this is….

The last thing you expect is to find this man bleeding half to death at your door in the dead of night. Though unlike a victim, his eyes held the gleam of a predator instead. What had you gotten yourself into inviting him in?

There he is again. His brown, murky irises meet yours once more. A shiver runs down your spine at his gaze. Oh, how pretty he was. His luscious lips form a smirk, the same one he seemed to be giving you for the last few days, one so coy, borderline flirtatious. It had your heart palpitating faster than it should.

Your eyes flicker to the passer-by’s, everyone noticed his mysterious beauty, all glancing as they walked past, all enamoured by his alluring appearance. A group of women catches your sight, they seemed to make it their hobby to capture a glimpse of the handsome man every morning.

He seemed to have the entire village under his spell, then again, with the way he looked, you weren’t surprised. The brown haired male almost looked as though he were of noble descent. From whatever rumours you heard, you found that he was actually an orphan who had recently moved in from another town. Though, this mysterious figure kept mostly to himself; not much information was known about him. It had you writhing in curiosity.

His dark brown locks fall to the base of his neck in a messy but attractive style complimenting his chic and sharp features. The man seemed to always wear some variation of a loose cotton top tucked into his trousers with laced up boots. A somewhat elegant ensemble, for someone amongst the commoners here. His sharp eyes, pointed and sharp nose and rosy, luscious lips, what was there not perfect about him? No wonder had the envious stares of men and a gaggle of women behind him.

His gaze meets your again sending a flush to your cheeks and you helplessly fumble turning the sign on your door to “Open.” Damn him! He smirks momentarily before resuming his morning walk. You always admired him, but in no way were you desperate enough to approach! Goodness knows how high his ego must be, he can’t possibly be ignorant to the amount of attention he gets! The last thing you needed was a pompous, self-absorbed customer or suitor! For now, you’d settle for merely observing the pretty boy from afar; who knows how many hearts he’s broken looking like that?

With a nonchalant hum, you enter your shop and begin rearranging the pots containing your various powdered remedies and peering at your to-do list. Being a herbalist, it isn’t the most exciting job but it allows you to live somewhat comfortably. After all, the human body is frail, people are always sick. People always came to you for various cures, treatments and remedies for their sicknesses and maladies. You always felt a sense of satisfaction helping people, aside from the profit of course, but just seeing the same people who were once so frail and weak, come and thank you a few months later, it truly did warm your heart.

You continue to organise your display before returning behind to your station where you made your various creations - consisting of different potions, powders, concoctions and pastes, all made with herbs and plants. It was always quite tiresome to fetch such rare herbs and plants, that’s what you did initially, taking days off just to get ingredients but thankfully you were now well off enough to afford a mercenary to collect ingredients for you on a monthly basis. It took a lot of risk and pressure off your shoulders.

Sighing, your mind drift backs to him. Why was he so damn handsome? It was unfair! Why was he always looking at you, exchanging glances, coy smiles, peering at your shop. What was his game?

Shaking your head, you resume pounding the mortar and pestle in hand, you had to focus. You had a business to run and work to do. He’d probably grow tired and find some other face to gaze at. He probably already has a queue of suitors; pointless of you to waste your time on him, really. Yet, his ambiguity had you yearning to learn more. You’d have to ask around once more when you had time.

The next day arrives, you open up your shop again; your body moving by a well-polished routine. Flipping the sign over, writing your offers for the day on the board outside, rearranging your display, wiping down the counter and making a list of ingredients to purchase and readying orders. It was a life that was supposedly satisfying, albeit dull for those who saw you.

Your ears perk as you hear the door open with a creak and a customer come in; a dreary expression. “Oh it’s you? I have your order prepared. It’s the powder, I’ve written a slip about the dosage and it should definitely help with your sleeplessness.” It had a mixture of Chamomile, Valerian Root and Passion flower; a potent combination in which a very small dosage should be mixed with water.

The client wearily smiles haphazardly placing the gold coins down and you slide them into your hand with a smile, “Thank you. Don’t hesitate to visit again, if there’s any issues or want another batch!” Before you could ease up; another customer shoves past the previous one as they exit with a panicked expression, “Bandages, cloth, something strong to wake someone up! Quick!”

Your lips part in shock, “Sir? What- what’s the matter?” The man snaps, “Just give me the damn things I need.” Glaring, you begin collecting some roll of linen bandages, and ragged cloth. “What do you mean wake someone up? I assume they’re unconscious, from what though? I need the cause to determine the medication.” The man groans, “I- I don’t know okay, she seems pale, looks like she lost a lot of blood. Haven’t you heard?”

You stiffen, “What? Blood loss?” Your hands immediately drift to a particular bottle with a scent and taste strong enough to wake someone up from an unconscious slumber and leave an unfortunately wild aftertaste for days. Gathering the items, you place them on the counter, calculating the total.

“Yes, the poor girl is as white as snow and frail as paper. There’s two puncture wounds on her neck and shoulders; bitten…” The man shudders.

…Bitten? A vampire? Surely not. You’ve heard of such things up in the North, a few folk tales here and there to scare the children from not playing outside too late or wandering off. Of course, you knew they existed, after all, there were many cases of such things. But here? In your quaint little village of peace and quiet?

That was the last thing you wanted!

“A vampire? In our village?” You write down the usage on the slip as the man slams down the coins on the counter. He grumbles, “Don’t know and don’t want to find out. Whatever it is, I want my niece to be healthy again! I told her not to go out so late! Did she listen? No, ‘course she didn’t!”

Frowning, you watch as he shoves the items into his satchel and rushes off. Such a large incident, you wonder when it happened, must have been last night. It must be the talk of the town, then again, you weren’t ever really the one to gossip.

Vampires, truly a fascinating enigma of supernatural phenomena. Humans but they’re bloodsuckers. Truly the most charming and alluring. Perhaps even romanticised in most of the novels you had read, though the moment there was a mention of one in a town or village it had everyone running to their church in desperate prayer.

With a sigh, well, you suppose it’d do you good to close the shop before the sun sets and the streets get too empty. You weren’t exactly planning to be the next meal, per se. As curious as you were, you weren’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of getting drained, after all, you had people to heal and save.

The day passes on remarkably dull with a few hints of chatter and murmur regarding the incident that manages to fall on your ears. They had notified the incident to the church and the village head. Though, you doubt they’d do anything except tell people to stay indoors.

“He’s so dreamy, she’s so lucky. To be carried in his arms, he’s just as chivalrous as he looks,” a woman who walks past your shop swoons to her friend. “Beomgyu truly is a Prince Charming in disguise, oh I find his mysterious and reserved nature so attractive, hiding such a warm heart under that cold exterior. I heard he carried her all the way to the nearest clinic at sunrise. If it weren’t for him, she’d be dead!”

Rolling your eyes, you can’t help but find the ordeal amusing. Huh, Beomgyu. That was his name. He found the victim unconscious and brought her to the nearest clinic, so what? Isn’t that what any morally-aligned human should be doing? A slight wave of relief hits you, you were wondering what you’d actually do in such a situation, if he had brought her to your clinic. Perhaps, your competitor clinics could gain a point this time. You weren’t exactly eager to be involved with such things, then again, you were also curious about these beings.

Another few days, another victim, this time a man, unfortunately for you, he was brought into your shop, unconscious and barely alive. The sight of puncture wounds in person made you shiver. Indeed, it was the work of a vampire. Someone in your town had a lot of explaining to do. Until then, the villagers, including yourself, were sitting ducks waiting to be feasted on.

Another week, another woman, bit but still alive. You noticed a commonality, they were all left alive, but weak, having lost a lot of blood. A large contradiction to what you’ve heard as vampires who drain their victims dry leaving them a hollow husk of skin. All of them couldn’t remember the perpetrator (how convenient), then again, you suppose that vampiric powers were best not questioned. So you treated her as best as you could.

You hadn’t expected to get so much income in the last few weeks, as morbid a thought that was. You were just glad no one had died. The last few weeks had generated a fear, a buzz amongst the people. Initially you hadn’t cared much, but with the growing number and regularity of incidents, you felt uneasy, anxious even. Would you be next? The village was on high alert.

You flip over the sign to “Open” as usual and wipe the door clean from the dust gathering on it. Your breath hitches, right on cue. There he was. His walks with grace, the women slowing their paces to gaze at him in awe. His brown locks bounce and sway in the breeze; like the other times, his eyes meet yours. You couldn’t move, almost transfixed on his gorgeously sharp eyes.

Everyday, he managed to meet your gaze. Give you that irritatingly sly little smirk, or smile and then walk by as if nothing occurred. Your heart pounds viciously as you force yourself to tear your gaze away. Did he know what he was doing to you?

Oddly enough, the following week, nothing happened. With such high expectations, you found your shop as dry as before, the people almost too afraid to relax. What happened? Did the vampire get caught? Decide they got bored?

You’d heard the rumours, Beomgyu was being suspected. Though his loyal fans defended him to no end, particularly since he often visited the victims bearing care items, or even offering sweet words of sympathy. Half adored him, half suspected him. Hell, you weren’t sure if all the men were just accusing him merely to get him kicked out of the village for their own greedy jealousy. After all, he garnered a lot of attention being as pretty as he was.

Either way, you stayed out of the chaos. You didn’t know what to think; he seemed to mind his business, you saw him everyday, in the morning. You find it hard to believe, in fact; you knew he’d be going to a tavern where he works at (purely because of the indescribably long queue out of it during the day). You don’t know, with a frustrated sigh, oh whatever! You had your shop to run. Why were you scrambling your brain as to whether you damned crush was a vampire or not?

The evening arrives and with the last of your medicines and remedies prepared for tomorrow; you flip the sign to “Closed,” before taking your keys and locking up the door and drawing the ragged curtains. Huh, you should probably replace those.

As the sun sets, you begin lighting the candles around the shop creating a dim hue of orange with wavering shadows that you always sought comfort in. You peer outside seeing the other houses and shops do the same; a warm glow illuminates onto the street. You know by nightfall, it would be pitch black. Not a single soul would dare wonder (particularly at this time!)

Heading up the rickety stairs, you find yourself in your home which rests atop your shop on the first floor. It wasn’t much, but enough to live comfortably albeit its small size and cramped nature. You perform your nightly routine after having dinner as you feel the vines of exhaustion twist around you. Lying down, a fatigued sigh hits you, it always took you awhile to finally get to sleep. Your mind always rummages through things at this particular time, irritatingly enough. After awhile, your eyelids flutter closed under the weight of sleep and you drift off to the land of dreams and delusions.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You shift in your bed uncomfortably, eyes still closed.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your eyes slam open as you sit up abruptly, heart pounding. Nervousness fills within you to the brim. It sounded like it was coming from downstairs. Someone was knocking on your shop door. Oh absolutely not!

The knocks become more urgent and you hear a muffled cry. Fear squeezes you like a vice. With trembling legs, you walk forward peering out through the little gap in your curtains down below seeing a man hunched over, keeping one arm against the wall to keep himself standing. What the hell?

In the dark and with him hunched over, you couldn’t see his face clearly yet instinct filled you with a sense of familiarity. You freeze as the man’s head suddenly snaps up and you squeak, stumbling back onto the floor to avoid being spotted. Damn it! Why were you such a coward?

Was he injured? Was…it the vampire you’d been hearing about? His clothes looked familiar and that messy wolffish haircut. Surely not…were you hallucinating?

Taking a small, oil-lit lantern, you creep down the stairs, not making a single noise and settle on the first few steps, trying to decipher what they were saying.

“…Help, please…, I’m going-ah, to die at th-this rate. H-He’ll be back, please- I don’t want to die. Please- wake up ah-fuck it hurts!” The pained grunts and groans make your heart twist and churn. Your feet itch to go, you never wished to leave anyone untreated especially when injured.

“Please, I hope you’re awake. Bleeding-so- ah, much,” he rasps out. His tone deep and rich now strained with pain and agony. Biting your lip in hesitance, you timidly walk down the stairs, your lantern flame illuminates the walls just about and the stranger seems to pick up on the flickering light that now seems to illuminate your poor-excuse for curtains.

“Oh- fuck. Are you there? Oh thank goodness! Oh please, please, let me in. He’s still out there, and my blood…will only- ah, draw him near!” He grunts out harshly knocking on the door in desperation.

He? The vampire? Oh shit. Was this a victim of that maniac? Shuddering, you approach your front window sill drawing back the curtains and slightly opening the wooden shutters. You weren’t sure about this; this would truly be a stupid way to die. But your heart couldn’t take his pained cries. You’d be failing your duty, what if you heard that he had died the next day? Oh guilt would eat you up for weeks!

The man’s face becomes illuminated by your lantern and he scrambles, wobbling over to the window sill grappling onto the ledge precariously with desperation. Oh my god. It was him. Choi Beomgyu.

His skin glows ethereally against the flame of your lantern, now paler than what you’re used to, presumably from whatever injury he had sustained. His dark murky irises meet yours, lashes glistening under the light. “Y-You, oh god, you’re the only one who’s woken up and given me a chance, t-thank, ah- the heavens above,” he grits out, eyes closing as you notice him clutch just below his ribs on the left side.

“Oh my goodness,” you gasp seeing his usually white top now drenched in blood, staining it, it was a horrid sight. Just how bad was his injury to emit such an amount of bleeding? Your eyes widen, “What happened?”

He grunts struggling to stand, “Ah fuck, could you just let me inside, I can’t- ah, stand for much longer. Everything’s spinning.” You hesitate, “You know with everything going on and stuff I can’t just-“

Beomgyu in frustration, misery and pain, “Oh, I know, vampire this- ah, vampire that. That’s precisely my fucking problem,” he grimaces. “Problem? Wait- did you-“ you begin shakily.

Beomgyu shakily murmurs, “Vampire… attack. I need to be inside. He suddenly l-let me go, fuck, I don’t know, is he t-toying with me? I wrestled him off, stuck my dagger into him, and r-ran like my life depended on it-“ he deliriously explains. He hangs his head low; his brown, damp locks hanging over his eyes and his lips part heaving heavy and ragged breaths.

Placing the oil-lamp down, with panic, you grab your clunky keys and unlock the latches and unlock the door. The male almost stumbles in and you yelp as he falls against you.

“Ah- wait-“ you struggle against the sheer weight of him as you wrap your arms around him; you feel the wetness of his blood seep into your nightgown, making you grimace. Awkwardly, you maneuver him to sit against the wall as he murmurs against your ear, “Mm…thank,” he coughs, “…you.” You position him against the wall; his eyes are closed as he lies there still.

You slam the door shut not wanting any unwanted visitors being drawn to the scent of blood from your shop. Rushing around, you grab whatever medical supplies you needed to treat a vampire victim, after all, the last few weeks had given you (unfortunately) sufficient practice.

For a moment, you glance at his quietly resting face. Indeed, his beauty even whilst so battered was hauntingly ethereal. The flame of your oil lamp adds to his allure, to think the man who you had exchanged glances with, who smirked at you, would now be clinging to you for treatment.

Timidly, you untie the fastenings of his collar and unbutton the collar of his shirt as you untuck it from his trousers. Huh, quite the bleed out. You need to apply pressure first. Your fingers dab the area over the fabric and you realise most of the blood has dried. Guilt hits you, perhaps, you shouldn’t have made him wait outside in the cold air for so long…

Beomgyu groans, “Mm…thank you..” A small yet worried smile appears on your face, “Don’t thank me yet, it’s my job.” He rasps out slowly, “…I know, but no one,” he coughs, “…had let me in.” His words hang in the air pungently and you feel your heart race seeing his eyes open; his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

“Mm…” he hums, “…aren’t you so sweet,” he breathes. Your face flushes at his words and you clear your throat, “Save your energy.” His lips quirk up into a lazy smile.

Biting your lip, your brows furrow as you put pressure on the area, “May I lift your top to look at the injury?” Beomgyu hums, “By all means...” With trepidation, you lift his shirt revealing his torso; you almost have to reel yourself back looking at his flawless skin and his toned body; now marred with the stain of blood.

Wait. You stiffen. Your eyes scan over the area where the blood had supposedly leaked from. There was nothing but a faint line, the bleeding, well, you couldn’t even say that, he wasn’t bleeding. Then…why was there so much fresh blood on his top?

Your blood runs cold as your heart begins to palpitate. Something wasn’t right. Your gaze snaps up to Beomgyu who watches you with keen interest, “Hm? What is it?” His demeanor had switched just like that.

Your hands shake, he wasn’t injured at all. So…whose blood was on him? What did he do to them? Your lips quiver, your eyes snapping back to his blood-stained skin trailing up his defined torso with his unraveled shirt to his neck, back to his face. No injuries, not even a bruise elsewhere. Your breaths become uneven as fear begins to pulse through you.

Who did you just let in?

A small yet deep chuckle resounds from Beomgyu as he observes you, his gaze no longer that of a victim, but a predator carefully analysing its prey. “Dearest little healer, have you figured it out?” His tone is condescending, a touch playful even, sending a shiver of warning down your spine.

He grabs your wrist trailing your fingers across his skin, “Was my act that convincing? I’m so touched, you know? You’re the only one whose heart was big enough to let poor old me in. Truly, little healer, how kind of you to let a desperate stranger in to treat them personally.”

Beomgyu rubs his thumb over your inner wrist pressing down as you watch frozen in fear. With a sudden tug he pulls you closer as you topple over his outstretched legs; your face inches from his. He presses his lips against your wrist before trailing the bridge of his nose against it, an incredibly intimate motion, as he inhales deeply, “Mm…the scent of your blood, impeccable. It almost had me drooling the moment you opened the door.”

His soft lips press against your inner wrist, “You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined sinking my fangs into that pretty little neck of yours, or your delicate wrists, whenever I walked past you in the mornings.”

Shakily, you pry your wrist from his grip and stumble back against the floor, scooting back. No, no, you couldn’t be tempted like this. What type of sweet talking was this? A breathless laugh leaves his lips, “Oh? Was that too much for you?”

“I couldn’t help it, you know, those adorable star-struck eyes of yours, just barely managing to meet my gaze, that shy little smile you’d return to me, oh, it really was so endearing. Watching you open up your precious little shop, on my morning walks.”

Quivering, you murmur, “You’re the vampire, that’s been…” He rolls his head back, a crack resounds from his stiff neck, “Mm, yes, yes. I am, you humans always have the same dialogue, I see.” Beomgyu’s lips quirk into a playful smirk, “You should be thanking me you know, I believe I’ve helped you earn a large amount of profit recently, no?”

You gawk, “You- you’re biting people! Taking their blood!” He grins almost amused with your accusation, “I’m not draining them am I? All I do is feed myself, just before they collapse, I stop and erase their memories. Simple, and it doesn’t draw much suspicion. They can’t even prove that I even had anything to do with it.”

He cooes, shaking the hair out of his dark eyes, “Anyway, you don’t expect me to starve to death do you? I see no harm, as long as no one dies, everyone should have a little frightening experience once in a while, no? Call it a humbling experience, let's say.”

Trembling, you peer at him; the candlelight casts a golden hue across his face, your eyes finally catch a glimpse of his glimmering fangs that just about peek over his luscious bottom lip. They weren’t as obvious before…

“I- I took you in believing you were injured,” you exclaim in a panic. “Surely, surely you can leave me be, s-search for something else? Perhaps feed on an animal for tonight? Please,” you plead as fear courses through you.

Beomgyu chuckles, standing up and stretching his arms with a groan. “Oh, how cute you sound when you plead, little healer,” he coos, peering down at you. The weight of his boots on the floorboards make them creak ominously. “However, I’ve not had my fill of human blood for days, and I’m feeling rather ravenous tonight. I couldn’t help but want to pay a visit to the sweetest herbalist in the village.”

He takes a step forward making you flinch, “Hm, you’re not even trying to fight back, throw anything at me, you really are different from the rest of this pitiful excuse for a village.” Fuck. What an idiot you were! You had a small dagger under the front counter- hell, what on earth were you going to do with that measly thing against…him?

What if it makes things worse? He hadn’t killed anyone as of yet? Then again…he hadn’t fed in days, what if wants to drain you? A crowd of thoughts whir in your mind chaotically as you scoot back trying to figure something out.

Beomgyu appears to be staring at you; his eyes swirling with bloodlust, his fangs itching to sink down into your soft skin, to suckle on it as your sweet, sweet sanguine drips onto his tongue. The way you fearfully peer up at him, gives him a surge of power, a feeling he immensely enjoyed. He always loved playing with his food.

Your parted lips, disheveled hair, heaving chest, and the best part, your pounding heart and rushing blood - absolute music to his ears! He appeared to be analysing every part of you, all with that salacious smirk on his rosy lips.

Beomgyu takes another step, another one, you squeak as his boots near your feet before he crouches down. “You’ll make this easy for me right? I don’t wish to hurt you like the others, see, if they’d been more cooperative, like you’re being, then they’d have not sustained so many scrapes and bruises.” Beomgyu smiles slyly his fingers reaching to cup your jaw, “Such a pretty little thing you are.”

His tongue wets his lips, as he inhales once more, with an impatient growl, he wraps his fingers around your neck. A light squeeze, and you gasp as he pulls you flush against him. Your fingers cling onto his shirt brushing against his icy skin. Your eyes glaze over, no way, this all had to be a dream right?

You pitifully gaze at him; his eyes stare back into yours hungrily. A moment of silence passes between you two - you didn’t know what he was thinking, he appears to be deep in thought about something as he gazes at you.

“Never seen someone as compliant as you, huh,” he muses, leaning down, his breath brushing against the curve of your neck.

Honestly when you didn’t know why you weren’t breaking down your doors or window shutters and screaming for help or running for your life. Perhaps, because you knew it was futile to outrun someone like him. Your eyes meet his sinful features again. Deep down, in the deepest crevices of your mind, perhaps you enjoyed the thrill, the change in pace from your monotonous life. Though you were not keen on the idea of losing your life in the process.

The bridge of his nose trails up the curve of your neck as he hums, “Such a lovely scent you have, I can only imagine how delectable you taste.” His words send a shiver through you and it doesn’t go unnoticed as he chuckles, “Oh? You like that? Or are you scared? I don’t know with you, you seem so…calm. I like it, I’ve never had prey like you.” Prey. That’s what you were. His prey.

You were scared but not willing to run. The tension in the air was palpable, crackling with electricity as your gazes locked with each other. Was…he hesitating?

He bares his fangs ready to sink down into your flesh, but pauses. His hands grip your forearms tightly, almost painfully. Why wasn’t he biting down? Wait- that was a good thing! What was wrong with you?

With an incredibly frustrated sigh, he snaps, “Fuck.” His eyes zone in your neck, “Why can’t I just…when you look up at me like that? For fuck’s sake,” he hisses almost angry not at you but at himself.

Timidly, you murmur breathily, “You-“ His dark eyes malevolently snap to yours and he smiles darkly, “Do tell, little healer, is the anticipation killing you?” He mutters, “It’s killing me too, why can’t I fucking bring myself to bite down?”

The way your eyes peer up at him, your quivering lips - the face he has grown oddly fond of and accustomed to seeing everyday. Despite not interacting with you before this, what was it about you? It angered him, had he grown soft? It seems so.

Your eyes widen in surprise, he couldn’t bring himself to bite you? What in the world was this? He glares, “Don’t look at me like that. Otherwise, I’ll change my mind.”

He grips your jaw suddenly, his thumb tugging at your bottom lip, a gesture that leaves you breathless, “Huh, there’s just something about you, that almost makes my cold, lifeless heart almost yearn to beat again. Why’s that?”

Beomgyu leans closer with narrowed eyes, “Hm? Tell me. Are you a witch? Some sort of fae? Descendant of a siren, to have bewitched me somehow?” You peer at him blankly trying to process what was going on. Beomgyu observes your lackluster reaction and he releases a laugh, “Ah, suppose those words don’t mean much to you, hm?”

With an annoyed click of his tongue, he stands up, “You have seemed to abate my hunger temporarily, how fascinating that is, just as it is frustrating. Here I was putting on all the theatrics just to get a meal tonight.”

You notice him turn away with a nonchalant attitude leaving you speechless. You scramble up to your feet, “Wait!”

He peers over his shoulder carelessly, “Hm?” “You’re just…leaving me be?” You pant out, confusion reigning your senses.

Beomgyu’s lips quirk into a grin, his fangs subtly peeking out, “Why? Do you wish to get bitten so badly, sweet healer? If you’re so desperate, I’d hate not to oblige-“

“No- no-that won’t be necessary,” you glare, “I- I’m just confused, you put in all this effort just to…leave? Aren’t you still…hungry?” You stammer. His gaze darkens as he snaps his head away from you back to the front door, “Some things are best left unexplored, sweet healer. Don’t push my mercy any further tonight.”

With that, he swiftly leaves out of the door leaving your heart racing and your mind an amalgamation of confusion and nervous thrill. Was he not even afraid that you’d go tell anyone? He didn’t even erase your memory? Was he always this sloppy with his targets? Surely not.

After standing for awhile, you finally bring yourself back to your bed, lying down. Your heartbeat still couldn’t calm down. Images of his handsome visage, smooth voice permeate your mind. You were just itching to know, why did he let you go? Surely…surely he didn’t have a soft spot for you? Did he?

The next morning arrives, tiredness clings to your body as you grumpily set up shop. Yawning, you flip over the sign and as usual, your ears listen for the latest gossip.

“There was a dead deer nearby Mr.Gallagher’s house, goodness. What a pitiful sight, it must have been that vampire, no?” The other woman chortles, “Huh, that pest hasn’t been drinking any victims for the last week and a half, what, has he gotten bored of human blood?” The two ladies laugh and you grimace. Well, at least now you know what alternative blood source Beomgyu had yesterday night. Poor thing; a light pang of guilt hits you.

Begrudgingly, you start you routine of crushing up spices and herbs and writing labels. A sudden sound of the door opening startles you. Who?-

“Look at you, as hard at work as always,” a familiar voice hums.

You whip around seeing Beomgyu striding in, a mischievous gaze and sly smile. He looked more handsome in the day, much more menacing at night. Regardless, his presence here meant bad news. You murmur, “What do you want?”

He muses, “Oh? Do you treat all your customers so coldly?” You glare, “Not all of my customers wish to drink my blood?” Beomgyu feigns innocence with a playful laugh, “Me? Oh, are you still not over yesterday night?”

“You’ve never set foot in my shop before, so why now?” You ask defensively. He grins walking up to the counter and your heart begins racing. “Why? Are you scared I’ll take a little sip right now?” Beomgyu’s eyes gleam amused.

The way he seemed to speaking to you now almost sent you into whiplash. His tone, his mannerisms, almost akin to a puppy nudging their owners foot, asking them to play fetch.

“Come now, sweet healer, if I could resist you yesterday, what makes you think I can’t today?” You mutter cautiously, “If you’re here to buy something, then buy it.”

Beomgyu muses, “Oh and here I thought with those shy smiles and glances we exchanged you’d be begging me to stay.” You mumble in embarrassment, “Well- that was- I-“

“Hm? Hm?” He eggs on laughing making you roll your eyes in embarrassment. “Oh, you do intrigue me so, little healer. So skittish yet you don’t outrightly kick me out. Hm? Why’s that?”

Fuck him. Fuck him and his perceptive nature. How humiliating. Exactly, why weren’t you kicking him out of your shop? You huff turning back around working on your labels.

You hear him snickering, “No answer? Fine by me.” Beomgyu grabs a stool dragging it to your counter and sits atop it, resting his elbow on the counter as he observes you.

“Are you just planning to stay here and watch me work?” You deadpan. “Well, I could always get my fill-“ he begins. “No, actually so whatever. You’ll get bored and leave soon anyway,” you huff.

“You solely underestimate a vampire’s patience,” he muses. His eyes trail along your working form, your cute little apron decorated with various stains and dirt along with your cotton dress underneath cinched perfectly by the knot of your apron string. Oh how adorable.

He wasn’t usually so keen on talking to humans, but something about you. He knew you liked him, why else would you be so bashful every morning? Yet unlike the others, you weren’t so open about it, never approached him. Such a reserved little thing you were.

Feeling his intense gaze, you didn’t know whether he was sizing you up as his prey, or genuinely appraising your attractiveness. Nevertheless, you continued on trying your best to ignore his presence. Various customers come in here and there and are almost jarred by his presence which makes you sigh in exasperation.

“You’re not leaving are you?” You groan. He muses, “Oh I will, just a little longer, patience my sweet, it’s only been an hour. I find it fascinating to see how you make your little medicines and such.”

You glare, “Little medicines?” Beomgyu grins, “Why yes, watching you work so hard to expand mortal lives, just a little bit longer, is amusing to me.”

“How cynical of you,” you drawl. He muses, “I can be optimistic if that’s what you’d like, sweet healer.” You groan. What had you gotten yourself into? Despite this you can’t bring yourself to kick him out. You don’t know why, perhaps it was the years of working alone in this dingy little shop of yours, that you found yourself yearning for company.

From his first visit, you never had thought his little sit-ins and chats would become more frequent, in fact, it was everyday. At the same time, after you’d open up, he’d stroll in taking his seat at the stool you had (not intentionally by any means), put out for him.

Your conversations would vary from calm to bickering, flirtatious and even trivial at times. It had become an almost quintessential part of both of your days. You hadn’t even realised that weeks had flown by.

“You know what’s so idiotic about these vampiric rules? That I have to be invited in first. What a chore,” he scoffs. You snort, “That’s quite the rule. Hilarious actually.” He bemoans as he rests his head atop the palm of his hand, “Believe me, that’s why I keep my prey-“ You correct, “People.”

He scoffs, “Alright, those people, that's why I usually feed outside. But in your case…I was unfortunately bound by such idiotic rules. Hence, the whole act. It worked though, you naively invited me in.”

You grab the crate of jars of ingredients to put up on the top shelf. Recently, Beomgyu had been helping you out here and there to your surprise. Not once has he even attempted to feed on you. It remains a lingering question in your mind, why wouldn’t he? Perhaps he was really that fond of you. Or was this some sort of elaborate scheme?

“Yeah, but you didn’t feed on me.” You muse as you tiptoe to put the crate up. A whoosh resounds behind you, as you suddenly find him behind you making you yelp startled. “Beomgyu, what the-“

He muses his fingers overlapping yours as you both grip the crate and he helps you put it atop the shelf; his breath caressing the curve of your neck, “I didn’t feed on you, though it doesn’t mean that I can’t in the future. You just…happened to be a soft spot of mine is all.”

You peer over your shoulder meeting his gaze, “Soft spot?” He hums, “Don’t dwell your pretty head on it for too long.” Beomgyu inhales deeply with a playful tone, “You still smell just as good. I can hear your little heart pounding away. Nervous?”

“You’re so close, how can I not be?” You mutter. A small laugh leaves his lips, “Ah, I can be much closer, you know?” You scoff, rolling your eyes, “Uh huh, yeah right. Now move.”

You go to move to the side but he suddenly grabs your shoulder, spinning you around and he pushes you against the wall with a mischievous glint in his sharp eyes. His hands grip your wrists pinning them beside your head. Beomgyu muses, “I think you forgot who you’re talking to here.”

Glaring, you murmur, “Move.” He coos, “My, my, aren’t you so demanding? Say please.” You glare, “This isn’t funny, Beomgyu.”

“You’re right it isn’t,” he fires back nonchalantly, “In fact, it just makes me feel hungry, seeing you pinned against the wall like this.” He leans in, “Look at you, you aren’t fighting back, again,” he chuckles, “You like this, don’t you?”

“Because I know you won’t do it,” you fiercely say, meeting his gaze. His pupils have dilated and rises have darkened into a murky colour. He smiles coyly, “I won’t bite into that delicate neck of yours? You’re so sure.”

Your wrists writhe against his grip, “Now stop fooling around, I have a lot of orders to get to. Because of you, I’m already behind.” He shakes his head, “Ah, ah, ah, not so fast, my sweet healer. The fun’s not over yet. You’re getting flustered aren’t you?”

Beomgyu’s lips near your ear, “Imagine if anyone walked in right now, hm? Goodness knows what they’d think we’re doing behind this counter having you pinned against the wall like this as I whisper sweet nothings in your ear, oh the scandal!”

You scoff shoving him aside and he releases a cackle as your cheeks flare in warmth and your heart races as unholy imagery floods your mind. The thought of it however, does sent a bolt of desire through you. Damn him!

“Idiot,” you mutter under your breath. Beomgyu chuckles, the tip of his tongue brushing over one of his fangs in sheer delight, “Oh you amuse me so much, little healer.”

“I do have a name you know?” You deadpan. “Oh I know, Y/n. You’ve not complained until now?” He shrugs. Fair point. Exasperated, you continue your duties as he remains to pester you once more.

Though one thing was for sure, as long as he was around, your heart wouldn’t stop fluttering. He wasn’t what you expected him to be, yet you can’t help but be pleasantly surprised by the turn of events. His presence certainly gave your life a bit of colour and vibrancy indeed.

The days pass by in a blur, something that’s never happened before. You’ve always loathed how slow the days went by, but now it seemed as though you couldn’t even keep up with them! As much of a…pest as he was, you grew to enjoy his company.

You close up your shop as you spot people rushing inside fearfully. People had already started rumours about the two of you. Huh, well, you were never one to care, you knew they’d always come to you for your remedies regardless.

The attacks had decreased in their frequency (with your hefty persuasion). Though they weren’t completely gone, after all, Beomgyu needed to survive. However he always assured you that he’d never kill anyone.

“Closing up are we?” A voice suddenly calls and you snap startled, “Stop doing that, Beomgyu!”He peers around the corner with stupidly attractive smirk as he ruffles his dark brown locks, “Oh? But you look so cute when you’re frightened.”

With a groan, “A pest. That’s what you are. To think I let you in.” Beomgyu’s eyes gleam darkly, “Oh don’t be like that, little healer. You love my presence. I believe it was the beginning of a very, very special little relationship.”

“Right,” you glare unamused. “Where were you this morning? You didn’t visit,” you ask. His smirk morphs into a grin, “Missed me?”

“No,” you fire out immediately. He muses walking towards you with a playful stride and his hands behind his back, “Mm, I was out hunting. I’ve been feeding on animals as of late, these pesky little villagers here have grown smarter in their tactics.”

You snort, “Not going to try to act injured again?” His eyes flash darkly, “Ah, well no one else is as naive as you to invite me in, healer. So no.” You scoff bitterly, “Alright, alright, easy now.”

“Anyway, I’m here now, I’m feeling a bit famished, however,” he eyes your neck, “You wouldn’t mind if I stayed for dinner would you?”

You glare, “I would mind.” Ignoring your words, he walks past you opening your door and walking in, “Oh, why thank you, my sweet, sweet healer. Such hospitality.”

You scoff, “I thought you had that rule about being invited in?” He grins peering over his shoulder, “Only applies once, sweet thing. Too bad isn’t it?” You huff walking behind him, “Of course it fucking does.”

With that, you find yourself in a rather domestic setting, having invited him upstairs, where your living quarters were. You chop your vegetables with ease as he sits at your worn-down dining table with a cocky smile, “Do you not have any meat? All these vegetables smell rather repulsive.”

“Didn’t you eat already?” You chide. Beomgyu hums, “Oh I did, but I don’t think a rabbit fills you up very much. Animal blood never has any substance to it, bitter too, eugh,” he grimaces. You gasp, “That poor thing!” He rolls his eyes, “Oh so I can’t even have animal blood now? There’s no winning, is there?”

With a sigh, you resume cooking in a comfortable silence. He liked watching you carry out your mundane tasks. He had lived for a long time, despite this, the way you did everything with so much care, such precision, it sparked interest in him. Time had become something fickle in his eyes, he had a lot of it, and well, not enough to do.

Though hanging around you has changed that. Something about your peculiarities, mannerisms that had him so intrigued. You were cautious yet open-minded, timid but also had a witty mouth. Oh, what pretty lips you had when you bickered with him. He really did love getting you all riled up, even more so, he loves getting you flustered.

Beomgyu’s gaze trails down your form, starting at your haphazardly put together bun revealing your tempting neck. How could you torture him so cruelly?

Instinctually, his tongue wets his lower lips; his fangs aching to protrude. The scent of your blood always lingered around you, tempting him constantly. He really did want to suckle on your neck, lick along your skin, perhaps leave a mark or two. However…he didn’t know if you could handle such rough treatment. You looked so…delicate?

Your unwillingness to immediately scream, run away the night he first came into your shop, your oddly calm demeanor despite the bubbling fear that he could so clearly see within you, it was unique. You never pushed him away. Even when he had his eye on you before the whole ordeal, he just found something ever so…endearing about you as you went about your routine.

So much so, he couldn’t bring himself to ravage your neck that night. Beomgyu considered it an act of mercy, after all, he was absolutely ravenous that night but…you had caught him off guard. So, he didn’t erase your memory like the others. He wanted you to remember him. Beomgyu had an inkling that you’d not tell anyone.

The more he spent time with you, the more he wanted to bite down, not just for the sake of feeding himself, he wanted to make you feel good. So good, that you’d beg him to bite your precious little neck and perhaps even a few other areas.

A sweet, resilient little herbalist in this dismal village, all to himself. What a devious thought, one that he relishes. Beomgyu stands, walking over to you and leaning his back against the counter flashing you his signature snarky smirk.

“You almost done?” He queries. Raising a brow, you answer, “Almost, yeah. Why? Not like you’re going to eat anything.” He snorts at your bluntness, “Mm, well, I am getting rather hungry. Just itching for a bite.”

“Very funny, Beomgyu,” you drawl sarcastically. Beomgyu shifts closer; his arm brushes yours as you make the final preparations. “I can’t help it when I have something as tempting as you in front of me,” he muses, his eyes going down your face.

He approaches you, caging you in with your back hitting the counter, his two arms brushing by your hips preventing you from escaping. There it was again, the expression he loved so much. A mixture of curiosity, fluster, a touch of desire. He leans down with an alluring smile, “Sweet healer, how long do you think we can go about this precarious little dance of ours?”

You hum trying to keep your composure, “Are you saying you only see me as food?” His cool exterior cracks and his eyes flash for a moment, a touch of remorse.

“No, of course not. If that were the case, I’d have fed on you the first time, or even the second. You know I’m just…” he peers away with a serious expression. Oh? Did he take your jest too seriously? His furrowed brows and slightly pouty lips - oh my god, he looked so…good.

“I’m just playing with you, joking around. I wouldn’t…do that. Not to you, at least… never,” he hesitates, “…you.” Never? He didn’t want to hurt you? Like genuinely? Your eyes trace along his ethereal features; your heart races. Perhaps your initial crush on the man before still lingered, well, it never went away, you suppose. You always felt breathless when he was around, flustered and most importantly happy.

You liked him. You liked…a vampire? You liked Choi Beomgyu.

He steps back almost as if he was reevaluating himself and you can’t help but smile. Huh, he took you too seriously. How cute. Your heart pounds. He really did care about you a lot. You grasp his arm pulling him back, peering up at him with a coy smile. His eyes meet yours with a hint of confusion, curiosity and desire. You murmur, “Did you take me seriously?”

“Were you being serious? You said it so seriously, I thought I hurt your feelings,” he murmurs lowly, his husky tone sending a shiver down your spine. Oh, you loved his voice.

You muse, “Mm, I was just teasing. I know you’d have done it long ago, erased my memory and have ran off.” His shoulders ease down in relief, “Right.” A giggle escapes you, “Look at you, a big scary vampire, afraid of hurting my feelings?”

His eyes flash dangerously and he murmurs, “Well you’re not just an ordinary human to me, are you? I don’t want you running off on me.”

Gazing up at him, you hum, “Why’s that? What’s so special about me?” You can’t help but let your eyes flicker to his lips. So kissable, they were.

This action doesn’t go unnoticed and his gaze darkens, “Oh has my sweet little healer morphed into a temptress?” Your cheeks feel hot as his gaze locks onto your lips.

“What’s so special about you, you ask? Well, you’re cornered by me, not just once, yet you never run. You’re the only one in this town who’s been willing to look past my appearance. Thirdly, I have a hunch that you’re not so averse to the idea of getting bitten, than these other cowardly villagers are,” he breathes leaning in.

The tip of his nose brushes against yours. He whispers, “Not to mention, what an attractive little thing you are. You had caught my eye from day one.” Your breath hitches as his hand slides up your arm cupping the back of your head, just above your neck, “You’ve no idea how many nights I’ve imagined you beneath me, on top of me, having your lips on mine.” Your knees almost buckle on the spot at his sinful words.

Breathlessly, you say, “You’re desperate for me?”His gaze glimmers warningly, “Don’t taunt me, healer.” His grasp tightens on the back of your neck.

You can’t help but smile as your foreheads touch, you close your eyes and breathe out, “Yeah? What are you going to do about it then?” He releases a small provoking laugh before latching his lips onto yours.

The kiss is initially soft, passionate, your hands cling to his shirt as the sweet sensation fills your senses. You realise very quickly, how addictive this could become. Moving your lips back against his; a low groan escapes him as he tilts his head kissing you deeper. A slow, seductive kiss that leaves your legs on the verge of buckling.

Both of you part from each other, lust clouding your senses. “That was…” he breathes. “…amazing,” you respond shakily. His lips quirk into a smirk, “Yeah, in fact, I want more,” with that he presses his lips against yours again, your arms wrap around his neck pulling him flush against you. His firm body against your soft one; it left you feeling weak.

This time he moves his lips more fervently, he parts your lips with his tongue with ease deepening the kiss. It was a long time coming, the mutual unspoken attraction and tension between the two of you had finally broken over the brim of composure. Beomgyu trails his lips along your jaw, you feel a hint of his fangs, sending a shiver down your spine. He moves further down your neck, his tongue darting out moistening the skin and leaving a trail of kisses.

Inhaling deeply, he murmurs, “Mm, fuck…your blood’s rushing.” You hum, your fingers running through the back of his hair, “Yeah?”

His lips suckle on the skin of your neck; a whimper escapes you. “God, you have no idea how much I want to…but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Is that why?” You breathlessly question, “Is that why you’ve not done it so far?”He responds; his eyes meeting yours and briefly meeting his lips with yours, “Don’t want to force you or hurt you. You mean a lot to me, I don’t want to treat you like some sort of prey alone.” Your neck tingles, your imagination running wild.

“Does it hurt that bad?” You inquire. He murmurs, “Well, initially it does, depends on how cooperative one is,” he rubs the bridge of his nose against the curve of your neck; his composure and patience waning by the minute. “You’d be surprised, some find it pleasurable after a while, some just hate it,” he muses.

“What do you think? You think I’ll like it?” You ask, feeling a flurry of boldness hit you. He stiffens against you and he straightens up peering into your eyes, “Do you understand what you’re implying here, healer?”

A smirk lines your lips, “If you fed on me, do you think I’d grow to like it?” His pupils dilate, and a shaky breath leaves his lips, “Sweet healer, you really are testing my resolve aren’t you? My patience has its limits, you know?”

Your eyes flicker down to his lips where you see his fangs ever so slightly protrude, “I know.” Beomgyu releases a frustrated groan tousling his locks, “Once I get a bite of you, you know I’ll come back for more. I won’t stop with one bite, I’ll yearn for it whenever we meet,” he warns. With a deep inhale, temptation gets the best of you, “So? I trust you. You won’t lose control.”

Beomgyu’s eyes morph into a darkness that sends your lower stomach spiralling as he whips closer to you with unimaginable speed, gripping your forearms pulling you flush against him. Cupping your jaw with his hand, he murmurs as though he's a second away from losing restraint. His hand slides down to your neck giving it a light squeeze and a small pleasant whimper escapes your parted lips, his eyes flash with desire. Smirking he muses, “Aren’t you a filthy little thing for enjoying that? Well, anyway don’t tense up, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

His lips suckle against your skin tugging it lightly; his tongue wetting your skin before you feel a sharp pain pierce through you. “Ah fuck-!” You yelp, eyes clamping shut and you breathe shakily. That shit hurts like hell! He was right!

You grit your teeth trying not to tense; you feel it, your blood rushing through you, adrenaline pumping through your body at the sensation. The salacious sounds of him gulping down your blood seems almost erotic in a sense. Within a few seconds, the stinging morphs into something almost pleasurable. No, no almost, as twisted as it was, it felt…good? Well as good as something piercing your skin can get, you suppose. A mix of pain and pleasure…

Beomgyu cradles the back of your head, pulling your head back by your hair causing your lips to release a rather peculiar sound. With a ‘pop’, he unlatches from your neck and meets your gaze. Your vision is slightly blurry and your legs feel weak. He stopped?

He licks his lips and your eyes follow the trickle of blood down his chin. Your blood. He wipes it with the back of his before licking it, with succulent fervour. “Mm, just as I thought, fuck, you taste good and that sound, my, my.”

You peer at him dazed. Oh, how incredible you look all zoned out and lightheaded. Aren’t you a freakish little thing, enjoying this? He presses his lips to your fiercely; the metallic taste of your own blood permeating your mouth. The whole ordeal was sinfully addictive. You could get used to this very quickly.

Beomgyu presses a brief peck to your neck, licking up any remaining blood, “I can only imagine how good you’ll be in other circumstances and what other noises I can get that pretty little mouth of yours to make.” You tiredly mutter in defence, “No, I- that was..”

He muses letting your head rest on his chest, “Ssh, ssh, relax, my sweet healer. You’ve lost quite a bit of blood, the last thing I need is you fainting on me.” He wraps his arm around you enjoying your fatigued embrace. Closing your eyes, you hear his whisper, “You’re now mine, you hear that? I won’t let any other pitiful human lay their hands on you. Got that?”

His? Your eyes flutter open weakly peering up at him; his gaze is intense. You peer at his lips once more, cupping his jaw and pulling him down for a brief kiss; a metallic taste filling your tongue. Beomgyu hums parting from you, “You realise, what you’ve started between us right? I don’t plan to just go about my time. You’ve only made me want more of you.”

You wanted more of him too. Oh, you really did.

You don’t know what possesses you, or what about him is so sinfully addictive that has you saying the words, “Then take me,” you breathe out, “Take me as yours.”

“Don’t worry, you already are,” Beomgyu murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple as you succumb to your exhaustion.

Hm, you wonder what the other villagers would think if they knew you were the vampire’s new lover - they’d think you were deranged. Well, you deem that this one secret could remain that way. Just that.

A sinful little secret.

Taglist:

@f4iryfever @love-be0m @hyunelixbun @baekberrie @soohashits @sirenla @vicurious28 @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @matcha-binz @elara828

[cryptidghostgirl]

Make You Wish Chapter Five -- The Conversation

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: None that I can think of but please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,324

Previous Part: Chapter Four -- Vox

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I promise I will get to the rest of the requests soon, I've just had a lot of people asking for part five of this series.

The shadows released Alastor and Y/n in his old studio. They melted into the ground around them as Y/n smiled brightly, her eyes traversing the familiar space.

"Happy to be back?" Alastor asked, watching her excitment fondly and Y/n nodded.

"I most certainly am. This is the most fun I've had in ages."

"More fun than murder?"

"Fucking with Vox like that? Definitely more fun than murder. That was the funniest thing I've seen in a long time."

"That's why you're lucky to have me around."

"Hey, you're the one who left, not me. You don't need to convince me I like spending time with you. Rather, you are in a need to be proving your care for me I should think."

"Am I, my dear?" Alastor crooned, leaning in slightly with his hands behind his back.

"Yes, you are."

He laughed.

"Well, I will have to get on that."

As Alastor approached the desk, his horns sprouting in shadows from his head, she made her way over to the corner of the space covered in of pillows and blankets. Hitting the pillows, they released a cloud of dust. Y/n shrugged slightly, waving the dust away from her nose before sitting down.

Alastor held his microphone to his mouth, recommencing his recording.

"Lets begin." Alastor announced as he sat down in his chair and began fiddling with the knobs on the table, "I'm gonna make you wish that I'd stayed gone, tune on in."

Y/n spotted her old crocheting project she'd started seven years before and smiled. Taking it in her hands, she began to continue her previous work.

"When I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run." Alastor continued, his demon form becoming even wilder and sharp at its edges.

"This will be fun." Y/n mused, watching him carefully.

Alastor turned to her, his smile sickeningly wide.

"Yes, it will be."

It was just like the old days. Alastor broadcasted his show while Y/n watched, working on whatever craft project was nearest to keep her hands busy. There was a deep seated comfort rising in her soul, a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in years.

Every once in a while over the course of his show, Alastor would turn his head back towards her. Y/n wasn't sure if he was checking in or making sure she hadn't left. Either way, she didn't care. After about three hours, Alastor at last signed off.

As soon as he hit the button that stopped his broadcast, Y/n placed her crocheting to the side. Getting to her feet, she walked over to him and took a seat on the desk, smiling brightly.

"What did you think, my dear?" Alastor asked, leaning back in his chair as he looked up at her.

"Amazing as always, Al. I swear, your voice was made for the air waves."

Alastor laughed lightly at this comment.

"I missed it. I missed you."

"I found myself missing you too, my dear. I had become so used to your constant presence, it was an odd thing to suddenly be alone."

"You like me!" Y/n teased in a singsong voice and Alastor smiled back at her, "Admit it!"

"Perchance. So, seven years." Alastor sighed.

"Seven years." Y/n confirmed.

"You work for an imp now? Seems an odd turn of events."

Y/n shrugged, turning her head to look out the window at the street far below.

"Blitzo is a friend. He helped me out a lot when you first left."

"So you joined his little team? How sinful, breaking the law and going to the living world to reap souls for paying customers."

Y/n turned back to him.

"I didn't realize you knew that much about what we did."

"I have my sources."

"Husk? Are your sources Husk? He's the only one that knows what it is I do now from the old crowd."

Alastor didn't reply.

"It's for sure Husk. How is he doing?"

"Y/n." Alastor warned, "Answer the question."

She sighed, kicking her legs slightly.

"I mean, nothing we do is technically legal." she admitted, "None of them have human disguises and our way to the human world is a book Blitzo stole from a fucking Goetia."

"You don't say." Alastor mused, "That would happen to have anything to do with this contract you're under."

Y/n's eyes locked with Alastor in silence. They glared sharply at one another in a battle of will. At last, Y/n relented.

"Yeah. It does."

"So, what is it? Why does a member of the Goetia family own your soul. Why is it that you have fallen so far."

"You really aren't gonna let this one go."

Alastor shook his head.

"Blitzo... well he was friends with the guy. Stolas, one of the Goetia princes in charge of the heavens or some shit. It's... Basically, I made a deal that if Stolas stays away from Blitzo and let us use the book, I would give him my soul."

"How altruistic. Though not unexpected from you, I suppose."

"It was only a few months after you left, Al. I couldn't take him on. Hell, you can't even take him on. He's a fucking Goetia. I did... I couldn't think of anything else. I did what I had to do to keep my friend safe."

"And why did he deserve your protection? He dug his grave and instead of lying in it, put you in."

"It's not his fault. Stolas got all weird with stuff and Blitzo was uncomfortable. There's this big threat of him tattling on us he hangs over our heads at all times. I... Blitzo did so much for me, Al. He helped me pick up the pieces of my life when it was clear you weren't coming back. I've become better now, stronger but back then, it was all I could do for him."

Alastor opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Y/n's phone buzzing.

"Sorry, gimme a second."

Alastor eyed the device in irritation as she pulled it from her pocket. Whatever was on the screen dampened her mood even further than their conversation had. She jumped down off the table, hurriedly typing something out on her phone.

"Shit, Al. I have to go, I'm sorry."

"Work?"

"Sorta."

"Ah. Your deal. Why does he not just pull you to him like a normal demon would."

"Well," Y/n began, sliding her phone back into the pocket of her dress, "first off, he's a hellborn not a demon. And second off he has this weird thing about being wanted? Well, not weird. Everyone wants to be wanted just like, he doesn't want to force me to come. At the same time, he knows if he asks for me, I have to. It's... he's complicated, Alastor. It's complicated."

"I could kill him for you. Make it a whole lot less complicated."

Y/n laughed.

"Thanks hun but I don't think even you could manage that one."

"You could make a deal with me, that would most likley cancel it out."

"And have you own my soul? No, I've seen how that pans out for people. I think I'll pass."

"Just a suggestion, my dear."

"Is it? You've been trying to make a deal with me since I first met you, Al. I feel like you shoulda caught the hint by now."

"It was worth a try." he shrugged.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Why is it you want my soul so badly anyways?"

"No reason. No reason at all."

"Yeah. I totally believe that."

Y/n's phone dinged again and she pulled it once more from her pocket. At the sight of the words on the screen she sighed, her brow furrowing in irritation.

"Pushy pushy." she hummed, "Look, I gotta go. I'll be back later."

And with those parting words, Y/n disappeared through the studio's door.

----

Next Part -> Chapter Six -- Stolas

[reasonsforhope]

"New Mexico will establish a permanent absentee voter list and remove barriers to voting on tribal lands under sweeping legislation signed into law Thursday [March 30, 2023] by Gov. Michelle Lujan Grisham.

The measure also will automate voter registration during certain Motor Vehicle Division transactions and more quickly restore the voting rights of people exiting prison after a felony conviction. It was supported this year by Democratic legislative leaders and Lujan Grisham, a Democrat, after a similar measure died in the final moments of the 2022 session amid a GOP filibuster...

Republican lawmakers fiercely opposed the bill this year, too, contending automatic voter registration and other measures aren't necessary in a state that already allows same-day registration. But advocates of the legislation, House Bill 4, celebrated Thursday [March 30, 2023] as Lujan Grisham signed the bill during a ceremony at the Capitol with Secretary of State Maggie Toulouse Oliver; House Speaker Javier Martínez, D-Albuquerque; and others.

Native American leaders described it as critical step toward protecting the voting rights of people on tribal land, especially those without a traditional mailing address. [More details in/moved to the last key point!]

In a signing ceremony at the Capitol, Lujan Grisham said the legislation would serve as a template for other states. "We want to send a message to the rest of the country — that this is what voting access and protection should look like," the governor said...

Absentee voting: Sign up once

The legislation calls for a permanent absentee voter list to be available in time for the 2024 elections. Voters could sign up once to get absentee ballots mailed to them before every statewide election. People on the list would also get notices mailed to them seven weeks before Election Day. Any election-related mail returned to the county clerk as undeliverable would trigger the voters' removal from the absentee list.

Automated voter registration

Automatic voter registration during some transactions at MVD [DMV] offices — such as when a person presents documents proving citizenship while applying for a driver's license — would begin in July 2025. Newly registered voters would be told they've been added to the voter rolls and that they'll get a postcard in the mail allowing them to decline the registration. For MVD customers already registered to vote, their address would be updated in the voting rolls if they renew their driver's license with a different address.

Restoration of rights

The legislation will restore the voting rights of felons when they leave custody rather than after they complete probation or parole. Inmates would be granted the chance to register or update their registration before release. The Sentencing Project, an advocacy group, estimated the measure will restore the voting rights of more than 11,000 citizens.

New holiday

The bill makes Election Day a school holiday.

Drop boxes

The legislation requires each county to have at least two secured, monitored boxes for people to drop off absentee ballots. State election officials are empowered to waive the requirement or grant requests for additional containers, depending on the circumstances of each county.

Native American voting

The proposal establishes a Native American Voting Rights Act.

[Moved here from earlier in the article]

The measure requires collaboration with pueblos, nations and tribes on establishing polling places, early voting locations and precinct boundaries. It also allows members to register to vote or receive absentee ballots at official tribal buildings — a necessity, supporters said, for residents who don't receive mail at home. "It is truly monumental reform," said Ahtza Chavez, executive director of NM Native Vote and a member of the Kewa Pueblo and Diné Nation. "It requires collaboration with tribes at all levels.""

-via Albuquerque Journal, March 30, 2023

[linkemon]

Confession headcanons

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here.

Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

Other headcanons from this series can be found here.

Part 2 | Part 3 of the confession headcanons.

This part contains: Malleus Draconia, Idia Shroud and Kalim Al-Asim.

Malleus Draconia

• Malleus' confession of feelings involved a number of obstacles and misunderstandings, although happily resolved.

• He wrote about you many times in letters to his grandmother. And although it made him realize the fragility of relationships with humans, grandma was also very happy knowing that her grandson had experienced such deep love. She really wanted to meet you, even though you didn't know it at the time.

• Draconia's biggest fear and block from telling you how he felt was the fear of loss. In various aspects of it. He was aware that he would certainly outlive you, and from time to time the thought of you returning to the world you came from floated in the back of his mind. In addition, you were his first real friend, not counting the people who were with him every day. Rejection could cost him the entire relationship.

One most ordinary night, he simply realized that the risk was worth trying to tell you how he felt.

• Malleus sprang into action with eager vigour. Unfortunately, these efforts were somewhat misdirected. It took Lilia to clearly explain to him that the customs adopted among fae do not necessarily translate to humans. He was forced to do this, as it were, because after you threw away his family generational necklace, the clouds over Diasomnia were darkening day by day and a disastrous downpour with lightning was brewing.

Meanwhile, you were simply afraid that Grim would destroy such a valuable and expensive gift. You had absolutely no idea of the additional meaning it carried.

• The second attempt was definitely more successful. Malleus gave you the rose seeds he grew in Briar Valley. Planted in Ramshackle, with his magic they turned into a field of red flowers. Combined with the moonlight and the fireflies dancing around you, it created a wonderful atmosphere that you will remember for a long time.

It was then that the fae confessed to you that he had been smitten with you from the very beginning but it was your friendship, so precious to him, that turned into something more. The fact that he knelt down in front of you and promised to give you everything you wanted made you think for a moment that he was going to propose to you. Initially, that's what he planned, but Lilia talked him out of it...

Idia Shroud

• It's not that Idia didn't know what love was. He had played so many otome games that while he wasn't an expert, he certainly wasn't a noob. However, without Ortho's help, he would not have correctly recognized its signs in real life.

• He started by avoiding you. The rapid heartbeat and red tips of his hair were becoming more and more frequent and it was difficult for him to control them. So he found the best solution he could come up with, which was to lock himself in his room. He avoided you as much as he could all over campus.

• His brother, although he quickly understood through data analysis what was happening to him, did not think it was good to raise the topic too early. Initially, he wanted to give Idia time. Time was clearly running out because the robot, seeing you once again look sadly at the tablet and gave it a wide berth, decided to act. He prepared a series of tests to convince your older brother that you reciprocate his feelings. Of course, Shroud hid under the blanket, mumbled to be left alone. Although he pretended to be uninterested, the speech actually sparked hope in him.

Maybe this time he wasn't a total knight nerd and side hero? Maybe he could play the lead role for once?

• He did what he does best. He designed a program that allowed him to send a request if you wanted to be his girlfriend. At worst, he was going to pretend it was a mistake.

When he saw that instead of checking the tick box, you had come to Ignihyde, he immediately paled. You had to knock on the door, telling him that you wouldn't leave until he explained to you what was actually going on and how this confession related to his constant avoidance of you.

Idia just stuck his head out of the crack, stammered and said that he was like the worst NPC you've ever seen but if you let him have some time, maybe he'll become a main character worthy of you.

Kalim Al-Asim

• Friendzone should be his middle name. From the beginning of your relationship, he sent you signals that you considered romantic. Until you started spending more time with him around others and you found out that Kalim treated them the same way he treated you. That's when everything started to get confusing for you.

• When you tried to tell him that you liked him very much, he replied that he liked you too. When you said more, he said more, more. And when you said he was more than a friend, he said you were his best friend. He did all this with such a wide smile on his face that you didn't have the heart to explain to him the true meaning of your statements. You knew the sincerity of his words. Few people in the NRC matched him in truthfulness. But it was incredibly frustrating for you.

• Grim knew exactly what was happening, seeing your hearty eyes every time you left the desert dormitory. He calculated in his head how many cans of tuna he would get if you got together with the prefect of Scarabia. This prompted him to not-so-subtly blurt out to Kalim that you were romantically interested in him. In return, he received a promise of a container of fish delicacies.

• The boy was in great shock but in a positive way. He didn't know what to do with all his joy, so he grabbed the first flowers in a vase he had at hand and ran towards the flying carpet. You weren't expecting him at all in the evening, dressed in your pajamas and ready to go to bed. He hugged you so tightly that he almost knocked you over and that was before he even remembered that he hadn't told you why he actually came...

[probablyasocialecologist]

The 370-page border bill that Democrats signed off on reads like a GOP wish list. Perhaps that’s because Republicans helped write the bill (though many of them promptly turned around and helped tank it after Donald Trump announced his opposition). Among its provisions: $8 billion in emergency funding for ICE, including $3 billion to increase detentions; a mechanism to “shut down” the border if a certain number of people cross; $7 billion in emergency funding for Customs and Border Protection; and a continuation of Trump’s border wall. A few progressive-sounding add-ons aside, like freeing up a limited number of new visas and hiring some more lawyers, the legislation is a complete concession to the worst aspects of Trumpism that Biden and Democrats purportedly ran against in 2020. How do Democrats justify this lurch toward increased brutality at the border? Some appear to view it as a clever maneuver to beat the GOP at their own game. By adopting Republican framing and policy on immigration, and still getting rebuffed, this thinking goes, Democrats will show voters that Trump-driven hysteria is to blame for the supposed “crisis” at the border. It’s a confounding and amoral “gotcha” strategy, in which people seeking to move across the border in pursuit of safety, work, and a new home amount to little more than a mechanism for media narrative point-scoring.

[...]

Do Democrats now agree with the Republican party on immigration, ideologically? Their outward messaging appears to accept the premise that this hard-right bill will “fix the border” (whatever this means), so it seems they do. Top Democratic senators are proudly boosting an endorsement of the bill by the Border Patrol union, a far-right union with a history of promoting white nationalism and avidly backing Trump. MSNBC personality Al Sharpton, much to the right-wing media’s gratification, said in an interview with Senator Chris Murphy (D-Conn.) Tuesday that “we’re looking every day at the invasion of migrants”—positively Trumpian rhetoric. This seems like quite a pivot after Democratic party messaging ran in 2020 on criticizing Trump’s border policies and rhetoric as akin to Nazism. If so, do the Democrats now owe the GOP an apology? Or, do Democrats not really think these far-right policies are good, but are simply “calling Republicans’ bluff” to prove some broader meta-point? And if so, isn’t it quite a gamble to risk the immigration status of millions and stoke nativist fears to get some cutesy hypocrisy gotcha over on the Republicans? If Democrats can, seemingly overnight, radically alter their position on immigration from one that at least pretended to pay lip service to the humanity of those seeking a better life in the US to nonstop tough-guy posturing about “harsh,” “strict,” “tough” “border security,” then what message does this send to other vulnerable groups?

[faeriichaii]

hiii! Hope you're doing well <3 if it's not much trouble could I request Legolas x reader where the ring fellowship one night stopped at some kind of inn to rest, and reader happens to be a musician that performed there that night and catches the interest of Legolas??you can make up the rest of the plot !Thank you 🫶🫶

Music to My Ears ~ Legolas x Reader

A/N: Hii thank you for asking I'm doing fine atm <33 I hope you're doing all right as well! Thank you so much for requesting!! I love the idea and I really hope you love the story :) Ngl I even listened to like some tavern ambience stuff to really get into the groove haha

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: fluff, mention of alcohol (Just a bit cause Gimli) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 1.3k ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (Thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ A'maelamin ~ My Beloved ࿐ྂ

Summary: A trip to the tavern results in you not just winning new fans over with your music, but also winning the heart of a certain elven prince.

Rain was pouring down as you walked through the busy streets, trying to find your destination. Stopping in front of a wooden building, you look up towards the sign that read ‘The King’s Head’. Entering through the door, you were greeted by loud laughter and chatter from various customers, who sat at their tables to take a relaxing break after their hard days. You have been working as a musician for quite a while and moved from one place to another, making a name for yourself on the way. “Welcome to ‘The King’s Head’. What can I get ya?” A woman asked you, as she mustered you from head to toe with a smile. Realization dawned upon her as she started to recognize you. “Hello, I am here for the performance of the night. Do you maybe know where my room is, so I can leave my baggage there and prepare myself?” Nodding brightly, the woman walked behind the bar counter, got a set of keys and signed you to follow her up the stairs.

“(Y/N) it is an honour to have you play for us tonight!” You smile at her, before she started to open the door for you. “I am happy for the invitation to play my song in this lovely tavern.” At that the woman grins, handing you the keys and leaving you alone in the room. It was a small room with a small wooden bed on the right side and a bedside table. You put your bag on the bed, before taking out your violin, strumming it and playing a few notes before leaving the room. While walking out the door you bump into the back of someone. “Oh- Excuse me I didn’t watch where I was going.” You say, before continuing to walk down to start your performance, not noticing the gaze of a certain elven prince linger on your disappearing figure.

Taking your place on the small makeshift stage, the waitress from before appeared again. Clapping twice into her hands, she silences the tavern. Now that the attention was set on the both of you, she stepped aside a little to introduce you warmly. “Dear guests, please welcome the star of the night, (Y/N)!” Claps and cheers filled the space, as you put your violine in its right place and began with your most known song. People started to stand up, taking others hands and began to dance around happily while laughing and chatting with glee. Some even started to sing with you, almost as if they knew your songs by heart like you did.

Letting your gaze wander across the tavern, you notice an intriguing party at one of the tables. Four hobbits were dancing around the table, while a dwarf laughed loudly with a pint of ale in his hand. Beside him sat two men, one who you knew as the strider. You two once met in a tavern a few months ago and conversed for a bit, sharing stories of your adventures, leading you two to become somewhat acquaintances. However, the other man is unknown to you. His long white hair was braided at the sides, making him reveal his pointy ears. A smile spreads on your lips as you catch his eyes staring at you, making him quickly turn his attention towards his smaller companion.

After a few more songs you take a quick break, to hydrate yourself and grab some food that the waitress prepared for you. Looking around the full tavern, you spot an empty seat beside Aragorn and decide to approach the table. “Is this seat taken?” You ask him with your plate in one hand and the drink in the other. “Long time no see (Y/N). I see you have really made yourself a name.” He smiles at you, before pulling out the chair. “What brings you here on this stormy night Strider?” “We are on an important journey, however I can’t really tell you more.” You look around the table, stopping at the ethereal looking elf beside him.

“Let me introduce you to the company. The hobbits dancing around are Merry and Pippin. Big fans of yours apparently. And these two are Sam and Frodo.” The both opposite of you give you a small wave, before continuing to eat, meanwhile the two dancing around stand beside you with pleading eyes. “Are you going to perform ‘The Elfin Knight’? It’s one of our favourites!” “How can I say no, now that you have asked me so nicely.” You smile at them, before they skip away. “My half-drunk friend is called Gimli and this,” Aragorn stops a moment to scoot back with his chair, so you can clearly see the man beside him. “This is Legolas.” You smile at him softly. “Pleased to make your acquaintance (Y/N).” “The pleasure is all mine.” Staring into his brown eyes you notice a golden swirl around them, making them look like the purest form of jewels. “Legolas just told me how much he enjoyed the songs you played so far.” You giggle at the confession and see a gentle smile grace the elven princes beautiful face, making him look almost like an actual angel.

“I will grab something from the bar.” Aragorn says, before disappearing into the crowd of people. Taking the now empty spot beside you, Legolas leans towards you. “Your music is very capturing. Can you maybe even play a song from the elven realms?” “I’m sure I will be able to play a song just for you.” He chuckles at that, making your heart melt on the spot at the soft sound. “I hold you to that promise.” His hand delicately brushes against yours for a split second, making you feel just a little bit warmer. Focusing your gaze on his eyes once more, you gasp softly at the warmth that radiates from them. “You have really beautiful eyes.” You remark, melting at the way they crinkle when he lets out a light laugh. “I think your eyes might shine more like mine. They look like they could rival against any star in the dark night sky.” A pink tinge accompanies your face at his heartfelt compliment.

After you finished your dinner, as well as your lovely chat with the elf, you fulfilled the wishes of Merry, Pippin and Legolas with the last few songs of the night. Grabbing the money for your performance from the waitress, you prepare to go back to your room for the night. However, before you get a chance to leave, the elven prince approaches you once more. “I really loved your performance.” “Thank you very much. Does this mean I can count you as one of my admirers now?” You ask him teasingly. “I think I might actually now be your number one admirer.” He responses while taking your hand in his. “It is quite sad that your performance is already over and the chances are slim that you might want to join our company, right?” “Even if I wish to join you and your friends on the journey, I sadly can’t. I am not really good with weapons and won’t be of good use to you.” A slight sadness washes over his face, however it dissipates as quickly as it came. Suddenly he gently pulls your hand towards his lips, giving it a kiss. Heat floods your cheeks at the sweet gesture. “I hope to meet you again sometime A’maelamin.” With these last words, he leaves your side and takes a part of your heart with him.

Weeks pass and you are once again playing your songs in a small tavern in a new village. The newest edition of your songs called ‘A lovely pool of honey’ Your eyes travel across the various dancing people until they spot a very familiar company at the table. Setting for a familiar set of honey kissed brown eyes, you smile brightly while your heart once again flows with warmth and love for the song you wrote for your one ethereal elven muse.

[watatsumiis]

Reader's Stuffed Toy (Part 2)

Various characters react to the reader having a plushie that looks like them!

Part 1 here! (with Ayato, Foul Legacy, Gorou, Tighnari, Rex Lapis, Xiao)

Characters included: Cyno, Itto, Kaveh, Thoma, Yae Miko, Zhongli

Cyno takes it entirely in stride. He treats the toy like it's his child, assigns it duties (such as looking after you while he's away, or keeping his seat warm when he gets up). It becomes more his plush than yours with how often he carries it around. He serves it food, plays cards against it, talks to it about cases, the whole shebang. He's affectionately dubbed it 'C.J.' (Cyno junior) and has a silly little voice he puts on for it and everything. He hand-makes a little pouch for it in his downtime, insisting that CJ deserves only the best possible security and safety measures around. The way he speaks to it sounds one hundred percent genuine, and is in exactly the same tone he speaks to others with, so sometimes it’s hard to tell if there’s a real person he’s talking to or if he’s just infodumping to CJ again. He also likes to put it in high places so it has a good ‘vantage point’ of the room, and you may often find it tucked on top of closets or curtain rods with a miniature spear in hand, watching and judging everything you do. At some point, it becomes more Cyno’s toy than yours.

Itto gets an almost insufferable confidence boost from it, he thinks it’s the coolest thing ever, and the fact that you had it made is a sign of utmost affection and adoration towards him. The moment he finds out, he’s half-snatching it away from you and running to show Kuki and the boys with this huge toothy grin as he brags all about how awesome it is, how you must’ve had it custom made and how everyone in the Arataki Gang should have that kind of undying devotion towards him. All the guys hype him up for it and echo his sentiment about how absolutely awesome it is, clapping you on the back as they bemoan the fact that they didn’t think of it first. Itto practically begs you for partial custody so that the gang can use the plush as another mascot, though it may be returned to you a little worse for wear. While Kuki tries to keep an eye on the situation, sometimes their games of ‘Arataki “itty-bitty-Itto-chucker” Ushi’ get a little out of hand, but rest assured, the toy receives the utmost love and attention whenever he’s hanging out with the gang.

Kaveh is a little put off at first - at first, he assumes it was Al Haitham mocking him in some way, but he eventually kind of warms up to the idea, though doesn't wholeheartedly embrace it. He tends to get easily creeped out by these sorts of things, and will insist that you turn it so it's not facing him whenever possible. Though, eventually there comes a time when he's about three days of minimal sleep into a huge project where he finds himself pacing back and forth in the kitchen at 4am, coffee in hand as he stews on his thoughts, when he sees his little plush replica sitting in the fruit bowl on the counter and, without thinking, just bursts into speech and begins to chatter away to it, laying out all his woes about his current project - he finds that speaking aloud actually really helps him organise his thoughts and get on with the project, and it eventually becomes a habit, he'll leave mini-Kaveh on his desk and talk to it when he gets stuck, or just voices his thoughts aloud, sometimes even talking as if it's responding to him. 

Thoma is absolutely and adorably flattered - while he’s a little unsure at first (and vaguely suspects that his employer may just be behind it somehow), once he realises you’re being genuine, he’s so shy but also extremely delighted at it, and feels like he somehow has to make a similar gesture - this leads to him eventually having a hand-made doll of you that he carries around, introducing it to the tiny Thoma (dubbed ‘Tinyma’) in a way reminiscent of people introducing their dogs to one another for a playdate. He thinks it’s absolutely magnificent and will make matching accessories for your little guys, and, when too shy to compliment you directly, hold up his ‘you’ doll and mimic you saying nice things about yourself. He definitely fixates on making little accessories and outfits for them in his downtime, and thanks to Ayaka’s fixation on dolls (especially when she was younger), he has quite a lot of experience doing so. It’s not long until your dolls are the most decked out in all of Teyvat, with their own little houses and wardrobes and even little animal companions!

Yae Miko isn't particularly surprised - she was the one to authorise the creation of that merchandise, after all. She'll tease you so much for it, but deep down she finds it very cute and charming. When you leave the plush laying around unattended, she may even go the extra mile and make sure it's always sitting up straight and that none of the accessories are crooked, and will quietly speak to it, saying things like "The Head Shrine Maiden must always be in pristine condition, you know." Or "goodness me, you're quite a fickle one, aren't you?" When the toy refuses to stand upright on its own. You may even find that somewhere along the lines, the toy suddenly has new accessories - shinier jewellery, a more realistic vision, a perfectly made little gohei for the doll to carry, a teeny tiny plate of pretend tofu - Miko will deny having anything to do with it, of course, but if you observe closely, it's almost painfully obvious that your attachment to the toy has rubbed off on her. 

Zhongli thinks it’s extraordinarily sweet - he observes the way you interact with the toy and will try his best to mirror it, doing what he can to make sure you’re comfortable and happy. It’s almost impossible to miss his warm, glowing smile when he spots the little coattails of the plush hanging out of your bag. Sometimes he’ll even pour an extra cup of tea for it if you’re out for a meal together. If he realises you carry it around often, he uses it as a kind of sneaky way to get you to carry around more protection charms and the like - while he’s not inherently superstitious himself, he knows that there is genuine merit and benefits to the charms he provides, since he’s able to know everything about their creation. He also uses it as a roundabout way to get you to be more comfortable opening up to him, asking things like “well, what has my little twin been up to recently?” when you seem like you may be dodging the question. With his age and experience, he’s come into contact with a lot of people, with a variety of different comfort objects and coping mechanisms, and has his own reliable ways of reacting and engaging.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagiarise my writing! I do not consent for my works to be translated and posted elsewhere, or used to teach bots!

[kimuby-am]

Rosie’s Care

Hi, this is my first fan fiction, i hope you can enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.

English is not my first language, so feel free to DM me any correction.

Title: Rosie’s Care

Pair: Alastor/Rosie, Platonic RadioRose

Summary: Alastor shows up in Rosie’s apartment feeling quite off and circumstances lead to unexpected confessions.

Word count: 4,318

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rosie waved charmingly as her last customer walked out of her emporium, her soft smile revealing how tired she was after a day of work: being the overlord in charge of Cannibal Town wasn’t an easy task, but she always pride herself at the sight of her immaculate city. Despite it being filled with blood thirsty cannibals not a droplet of blood could be seen in the streets, every piece of meet was sourced from her emporium and consumed in the privacy of their fancy houses.

Rosie leaned on the counter for a second before regaining her composure. She took out a keychain from a drawer under the counter. The keychain was a small dried head adorned with roses and beads, a cute little gift given by her first husband when she opened the emporium; the sight of it almost made Rosie think if she were too hard on him when she killed him during a fight over her “role as a wife”. The keychain held a small golden key. Rosie put the small key in to the lock of the front door and before twisting it she glanced at the empty shop, searching for any intruder, then she closed the door and turned the elegant sign on the door from “open” to “closed”. She took the key and put it back on the drawer, letting out a small sigh signaling that her day was finally over.

At the left corner of her shop there’s a spiral staircase that lead to her small apartment over the emporium. One could think that an overlord like her would live in a big mansion, of course money wasn’t a problem, but living alone for the vast majority of time Rosie found herself enjoying much more the small and cozy rooms of this apartment making her rent al her other houses to the new cannibals arriving in hell. Once on top of the small metallic staircase she faces the beautiful wine red door that leads into her apartment, wood carved with roses and elegant patterns. She elegantly took another key from her sleeve held by an elegant ribbon to her wrist.

The inside of her apartment is a triumph of red, white and bordeaux intensified by the reddish hue of the sunset.

She couldn’t even relax for one second that the smallest off sound made her alert, sending shivers down her spine, not quite understanding what could it be. She took off her shoes and not letting out a sound, she approached the noise. The more steps she took the more the sound was clear. It was a song covered in heavy static. She let out a heavy sig in relief, there was only one person she knew that could enter into her house unnoticed and play soothing jazz. “Oh my stars, Alastor!” She chirped amused by the presence of her best friend, adrenaline still running through her veins from the worry she had before. The demon did not respond to her cheerful greeting. She raised an eyebrow in confusion, still approaching the sound coming from the living room. She heard a distinct click and the song changed. Was her friend sleeping? She knew Alastor well, and she remembered from the few times he let himself sleep in front of her that he shuffled through Radio stations during his sleep, mirroring his mood. But this time was different, the static was so strong she could barely hear the songs played, something was a bit off. She wiped away does thoughts as she finally decide to enter the living room: it is a pretty large space with an armchair opposing a small couch both covered in a soft velvety brown fabric, the walls are decorated with an elegant rose themed wallpaper where was hung a painting made by her of a skull with a pretty red flower. From the ceiling hung a terracotta pot from where seem to fall a beautiful green plant with big leaves in stark contrast with the dominating red ambient. In the centre of the room is positioned a red and black carpet resembling a mandala motif, on top of it a small table. The light source of the room is a huge window now covered with thick black curtains that didn’t let even the smallest sunlight ray to seep through it. Fortunately the light from the room she was coming from was enough to let Rosie analyze the scene.

She saw a red hoof coming out from the side of the armchair. She chuckled in amusement as she couldn’t quite understand in what position her friend was lying, but at the same time she couldn’t shake off the thought that something was off. Alastor wasn’t one that lost composure even in front of his best friend.

She finally stepped in front of her friend, a small smile rose in her face as she ate the scene before her with her big empty eyes: the mighty radio demon was crunched on the small brown armchair, the right side of his body was pressed against the armrest where lied his right arm, head tilted to the side resting on his shoulder, pressure creasing his lightly red tinted cheek making him look soft. His right leg was extended on the opposite armrest, while the left leg was folded, his hoof picking out of a small gap between the seat and his other leg, left arm gently rested on his body. His overcoat was hung on the human bone hanger he gifted her when she chose to live in this apartment. His bow tie was untied and his hears were gently pulled behind. Alastor was a monster to everyone that hadn’t had the pleasure to know him, but to Rosie, especially in this moments, he looked rather cute and harmless.

Rosie was looking at him for almost five minutes and when she noticed it she couldn’t help but blush, if Alastor could see this scene he wouldn’t let go the opportunity to joke about it.

With cat like steps she got in to her bedroom.

Rosie’s bedroom is dark and oppressive, walls are covered in wine red wallpaper, the forniture is made in ebony and her queen sized bed is covered in black silk sheets. The room small and crowded is set in a way that makes navigating through ti easy. The bed stands glorious in the centre of the room, at its left there’s a bed side table with a rose shaped lamp and a book on top of it, at its right a desk towered by a big mirror framed with a golden metal giving the illusion of a big virtual space.

The wardrobe stood at the right of the door, modest and filled with sober outfits. Opposing the mirror a big door window, covered in black curtains, that lead to a small balcony from where you can see all Cannibal Town.

She opened a drawer from the wardrobe and took a dark red blanket. Rosie was swinging around her house without making even the slightest sound, trying to not wake up her friend. Once returned in the living room Rosie stood under the sunlight for a moment, admiring Alastor sleeping another time: his soft hair, his immaculate skin and the way his lips curled into a soft smile. Rosie let out a small sigh finding herself watching the demon again with that emotion that didn’t want to leave her; she couldn’t deny she fell in love with Alastor a long time ago and she believed she got past it, but when she looked at him like this she couldn’t shake the sparkle of feeling in her heart.

She opened the carefully folded blanket with a swift and elegant motion, putting it on top of his friend, gently tacking it around his body. Alastor didn’t move while his sleeping brain continued shuffling through various radio stations. She moved behind the armchair caressing the soft velvet with her fingertips, reaching his head. Her fingers were interlaced with his soft locks. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss on top of his head, her lips were gentle and warm; Rosie felt like she could hear the trouble inside the Radio Demon’s head and She hope she could take out some with every little act of affection.

Rosie exhausted by the day and all those emotions tried to walk to her bedroom once more seeking the rest she deserved, but two black shadow tentacles grabbed her e pushed her on top of Alastor who let out a loud squeak like a little fawn. He enveloped her with the blanket she gave him chuckling all along while she was struggling to escape “Alastor, let me go” she let out a little laugh, they were playing. “Ahahah! Never going to happen” he said, but surprisingly Rosie managed to escape Alastor’s grip with a few pulls. Alastor wasn’t the kind of person to let others win so easily even in this kind of silly games, this made Rosie worry even more “dear, is everything all right? I was hoping our little game of prey and predator lasted a little bit longer” she say purposefully mockingly, if she wanted others information she couldn’t let herself show worry for him; “everything is splendid my dear” Alastor dismissed her question rapidly, a red tint was blooming on Alastor’s cheeks. He was panting softly and his forehead looked glistened, even if it was difficult to see due to the lack of light inside the room. A strange worrisome puzzle started to form inside Rosie’s mind. Now it was time to put on a clever play. “Oh Alastor, I’ve missed you sooo much” she said putting on a cheerful facade “let me give you a kiss”, she leaned forward making clear the intention to press a kiss on his forehead and he waited for it with eyes closed ready to savor the moment. Her lips touched his skin as gentle as a feather, she could feel the intense heat coming from the demon and the worry came out full and clear in Rosie’s next words “oh my goodness Alastor your very hot” he lightly chuckled in response ignoring the strong sense of worry in her words “now now Rosie, this is an inappropriate comment to make”, she rolled her eye before replying “you know that’s not what I meant, you clearly have a fever”. Alastor let out a long long sigh shrinking in is chair, his smile gently softening “i’m afraid you’re right my friend, i’m feeling quite off…” Rosie gave him a tender look “and then you came here so no one could see you like this…you know, the Hazbin Hotel is a safe place for you too, maybe if you just let go with them like you do with me-“, he interrupted her “NO Rosie I CAN’T” there was some kind of disperation in is voice, eyes like radio dials ticking away. Rosie stood there in silence while a guilty look appeared on Alastor’s face “I’m sorry, i didn’t want to…it’s complicated, i know i said i was getting accostumed to them, but they aren’t like you…you’re more than a friend to me…we’re like…partners!”. Emotions stroke Rosie’s heart like an arrow and a deep red blush rosed in her cheeks while she was trying to avoid eye contact at every cost but after a moment she regained her composure “Alastor, you flatter me sweetheart” a tinge of sadness in her words “you know, we should really go to sleep, you can stay here if you want”. Alastor let out a light static noise “can i sleep with you?” The sudden question made Rosie blush even more, she knew Alastor for almost a century by now and every now and then he had is affection episodes, but he never suggested to sleep together. “Of course dear” she said softly, offering a hand to him to get up. He took it and got up.

Alastor could feel his head spinning and sight blurring, legs threatening to give up beneath him, so he stood there for a minute before taking the first step toward Rosie’s bedroom. He dropped himself on the bed with all his weight causing it to barely move. “I’ll take an ice bag, maybe it will help you lower your temperature” Rosie said with a gentle smile. He loves her smile, it reminds him of his mother’s. “No please, stay here Rosie” he said, almost whispering, conjuring an ice bag with a small movement of his hand, “sweetie, you should not use you’re powers in this state, just rest please” she said while gently positioning the ice bag on top of head. He chuckled a little bit “i’m not a kid, i’ve been sick other times”, Rosie raised an eyebrow and replid with a smug tgrin on her face “then why you came here? You could’ve picked an empty room if you wanted to hide from your hotel friends”. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks another time, his thoughts swirling in his head while trying to figure out why did he go there on the first place, but thinking of going in any other place, even in his room alone (without her) enveloped his heart with a sense of unease, it didn’t felt right, his reaction to the sickness was pure instinct. He tried to play it ‘cool’ “I just needed a distraction to shake off this fever, nothing more”. Rosie put on an hungry face and a gave him her back while going to the bathroom to change in her nightgown “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m very tired, i won’t provide any ‘distraction’, feel free to leave if this isn’t what you needed” SLAM! She sclosed the door behind her emitting a loud noise that made Alastor’s ears twitch in disconfort, his had bursting from all the thoughts: why he always had to turn everyone down?

At this point he was barey smiling. He put the ice bag on the bedside table and stood up from the bed, legs barely holding his light weight, managing to reach the bathroom door leaning on the walls.

He let his weight drop hitting the door with his back, the impact generating a gentle thud. Then he slid down to the floor. “I’m sorry Rosie…i didn’t mean to offend you” his voice was barely audible, “but you did Alastor” she replied harshly. His head hurt even more from all the noise of the thoughts in his mind: how to apologize with his best friend? Should he say the truth? Should he make up another lie?

Thinking was hard enough at that moment and making up a good lie required a lot of thinking. Another wave of pure guilt hit him even harder then the pounding of his head. For the first time in his afterlife lying wasn’t an option.

He took the biggest breath he could “listen Rosie, i’m really sorry, you mean a lot to me, i know i’m not the best of friends…you’ve always been here when i needed it…but you can’t say the same for me…and then i show up and offend you just to save me from the embarrassment of admitting that i need help, that i don’t want to stay alone…that i want to stay with you…” his heart was racing at this point, moved by a new emotion, one that rose after admitting to himself and her that he wanted to stay with her. The silence was unbearable, at some point the idea that she wasn’t even there, slightly touched his mind.

“Oh dear boy, you’re not a bad friend…i know that it can get hard for you to understand feelings, but i’m glad you said you like my company” she opened the door making Alastor fall on his back, he tried to push himself from the ground, but his energy was completely drained at this point. She leaned down and took him bridal style “shall we go to sleep now?” He nodded lightly with heat crawling to his face “you shouldn’t have left the bad anyway…” Alastor sighed, hi lips curled in to the softest smile ever “i couldn’t let you think i didn’t care about you”. Rosie couldn’t help but smile at this little revelation, of course she knew that Alastor cares about her but she couldn’t deny that her hearts crave reassurance.

Rosie gently dropped Alastor on the bad, that’s when he saw Rosie in her nightgown: a long black silky vest with elegant red hand sew details, it looked almost too good to be kept inside the bedroom, he couldn’t stop thinking of how beautiful his friend looked. “Now now Alastor, what’s with all this staring, i hope you can’t see through clothes, do you?” She said teasingly and Alastor once again could feel pervaded with embarrassment. With a swift movement he turned, back facing Rosie. She raised an eyebrow. She lightly touched his shoulder “my dear, you’re really sensitive and i’m not sure it is the fever’s fault…are you alright Alastor?”, he turned to face Rosie eyes locked to his hands fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt “i find you very beautiful Rosie” his voice was tender and soft.”Is that what made you upset?” She said a little bit confused, he didn’t say anything, eyes still down “never mind…You’re quite handsome too my deer friend” she said softly, cupping his cheek with one hand. After some minutes of silence passed watching the ceiling and caressing his friend’s hair Rosie spoke again “can you not conjure up something more comfortable to wear for the night?” He slowly made a no with his head “i’m afraid i have no energy left, i can barely move”, Rosie looked at him like the next thing she was going to say was illegal “i don’t mind if…you know…if you slept in your underwear…at least you’ll be comfortable-“, “but i don’t want to make you uncomfortable” he interrupted her “i insist Alastor, it’s not like i haven’t seen you in your underwear already”, “context matters more than anything my dear” he said desperately, Rosie had a severe look in her eye “how can you heal from this fiver if you can’t properly rest? You also need to lower your body temperature and all those layers aren’t doing you any favor” he proceed to open his mouth to reply…but she was right, he needed to heal fast to return to the hotel without raising any suspect. He let out another long sigh “ok Rosie, you won, but I can’t do it all myself…would you mind giving me a hand?” She let out a soft chuckle, stopped caressing him and booped his nose “there’s no problem” she could feel her face turning tomato red but couldn’t turn her back to her friend.

She sat next to him and helped him unbutton his shirt and his pants, then she gave him support tu raise enough his bust to take off the shirt and vest. His pants slid off easily. Both sides were embarrassed, friends should not do this things, but they were like no others friends, they were more…but not like Rosie would’ve hoped a long time ago.

They both fell asleep shortly after, the night going smooth like silk as they both were exhausted.

Rosie was the first to wake up, only to find out that Alastor was hugging her. She felt the warmth of his skin on hers, time marked by his gentle breathing. He looked so peaceful and innocent under the soft light of the sunrise seeping through the heavy curtains. Alastor surely was more then a friend to her and she was slowly realizing that; it wasn’t like the crush she had before for him, before knowing he’s ace. That desire that burnt in her was extinguished a long time ago. Now, after almost a century, after various failed marriages, she needed something different, something she can feel only with Alastor, but on the other hand she also feels the need to be open about her feelings for him and this is where doubt threat to suffocate her…how could her friend possibly take her feelings for him? She knew very well how complex he is, how every interaction with others inside his brain is twisted and contorted by the trauma of his past life. Rosie was prepared to keep her feelings a secret for another century at least.

Her introspection was brought to an end by her friend waking up. “Good morning Rosie, did you sleep well?” Rosie had still a serious expression on her face “Good morning, I slept well, how do you feel?” She responded still distracted by her stream of thoughts. Alastor was visibly tired even if he just woke up, his all body feeling heavy like a rock, the only confort coming from the embrace with Rosie that now he was doubting to be well accepted given the serious expression on his friends face. He was about to pull out of the hug, when he felt Rosie embrace him tight. “I cans see your still out of energy dear, don’t worry, i’ll let one of my coworkers open the emporium today so i’ll take care of you”, this was only half the truth, she wanted to take care of Alastor, but she was also taking advantage of his vulnerable state to understand how far she could go, how far she could express her feeling without him running away from her. Despite hi slender and sharp figure Alastor is quite soft and comfortable to hug, his chest is covered in soft fur and his skin his warm and silky smooth. Now that Alastor was shirtless she could even see the scar left from the battle with heaven, the one that she helped stitch and heal; he didn’t talk much about what happend but she could see the pain, the anger, how scared he was after the battle.

“No Rosie, i can’t let you miss your duties form me, i’ll be fine” he said after a while with concerned voice; he couldn’t understand why she even cared that much. “No Alastor, you’re not fine, you’re still weak as a newborn fawn, you’re temperature is still concerning and you can’t even use your magic for the simplest tasks, be real now, how could you even take care of yourself?” Rosie’s voice sounded more concerned and exasperated that she would’ve liked to. The Radio Demon clenched his fists, his eyes grew bigger and and the void within them looked like it could suck out light around them, his irises were bright red against the pitch black of his sclera and his pupils turned into radio dials “why do you care so much Rosie? Why are you always willing to sacrifice everything form me?” His voice was heavily coated in static while he was letting out past memories in to this questions. On the other hand Rosie didn’t even flinch for a second, she knew Alastor wouldn’t never hurt her. She could feel Alastor’s reaction wasn’t caused solely by her previous statement. She embraced him even tighter and let out a sigh as what she was about to say could start an apocalypse, her mind and heart completely flooded with emotions “Alastor, i care because i love you…”, this words carried much more than what you could except between friends and Alastor could feel them piercing through his heart like an arrow and he couldn’t help but stiffen a her ‘confession’ “Rosie, you know….well at least i hope you would’ve understood by now…” he was fighting to let does words come out “i can’t love you like…other man could do…you deserve better than this…” little tears started to form on the corner of his eyes and his smile was barely there. Rosie looked at him with her most tender look, his heart threatening to explode from his friends words “my dear, I know you can’t love me like other mans would…” she took his hands and gave them a gentle squeeze “…i had quite a few husbands in this past century and i had the kind of love your talking about, but that’s not what i need anymore…i need you”. Alastor looked confused his hands tight onto Rosie’s, “why would you need me? I’m not even good as a friend…Rosie, listen…i’ve been in love with you for years but i know i can’t give you what you need…i will never be romantic, i will never have sex with you…i just didn’t want to tight you into this horrible idea of a relationship i have”…he was devastated and could feel his friendship crumble under his confession, why did he confessed? He would have savor another century or more of his friendship with her. His face was lined by tears as his mind rushed with regretful thoughts. Soon his train of thought was stopped by a small kiss on his wet cheek “Dear, i don’t need you to be romantic or to have sex, i understood it wasn’t an option for you a long time ago… i just” a big smile formed into Rosie’s face “i just want to share a stronger connection with you, i want to snuggle and cuddle with you, to return home and spend the rest of the day with you, to take care of you and call you mine”. Alastor was speechless, it was like she could read his deepest needs and put them in to words and soon the sorrow that pervaded his being was gone and a he could feel a warm feeling filling his old heart. He gave her a tender smile while she wiped away his tears from her cheeks “this is all i ever wanted”. As this words settled down in to the room Alastor and Rosie could finally let out the tension with a big warm laugh that filled the entire bedroom and their hearts.

[cvlutos]

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══════ ♡ ══════

CATEGORY: POMEFIORE

! BEST SELLER ! !PREMIUM! VIL SCHOENHEIT | 24 | ACTOR, MUSICIAN, DANCER, PERFORMER, ETC | 183CM ~ 6’0FT | REGAL |

A SERIOUS ACTOR THAT VALUES BEAUTY. HE FINDS BEAUTY IN THOSE THAT TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES YET HE’S AN EXTRODANINARY LOVER.

ROOK HUNT | 24 | 177CM ~ 5’8FT | SEEKER OF BEAUTY | UNIQUE |

ODD AND DIFFERENT FROM THE OTHER BOYFRIENDS! IF YOU WANT SOMETHING UNIQUE THEN ROOK IS FOR YOU.

EPEL FELMIER | 19 | 156CM ~ 5’1FT | APPLE FARMER, PERFORMER | MANLY |

A MERE COUNTRY BOY THAT WORKS HARD TO BE MANLY, YET HE HAS THE SWEETEST FEMININE LOOK. THOUGH DONT MENTION IT. UNLESS YOUR REAL SPECIAL TO HIM.

POPULAR POMEFIORE POLY OPTIONS:

! BEST SELLER ! VIL SCHOENHEIT AND ROOK HUNT

VIL SCHOENHEIT AND EPEL FELMIER

VIL SCHOENHEIT, ROOK HUNT, AND EPEL FELMIER

! CUSTOMIZE YOUR PAIRING !

! CHOOSE YOUR BOYFRIEND !

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CATEGORY: IGNIHYDE

! BEST SELLER ! !PREMIUM! IDIA SHROUD | 23 | GAMER AND TECH ENGINEER | 183CM ~ 6’0FT | OTAKU |

NOTHING BUT A LOVESICK, ANTI-SOCIAL, ANIME LOVING OTAKU. YOULL BE HIS FAVORITE WAIFU OR HUSBANDO. SHARE IN HIS VARIOUS PASSIONS!

! CHOOSE YOUR BOYFRIEND !

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CATEGORY: DIASOMNIA

! BEST SELLER ! !PREMIUM! MALLEUS DRACONIA | 28 | — | 202CM ~ 6’6FT | ROYAL |

POETIC TYPE LOVER. A DARLING WITH A DRAGON LIKE PERSONALITY. SAID THAT TO BE FAE. OH, HOW SPECIAL HE IS.

!PREMIUM! LILIA VANROUGE | 31 | NEIGHBORHOOD CUTIE | 158CM ~ 5’1FT | ECCENTRIC |

CUTE! CUTE! CUTE! A CUTE BOYFRIEND FOR A CUTIE LIKE YOU. THOUGH HE HAS AN ABSOLUTELY MISCHIEVOUS SIDE.

!PREMIUM! SILVER | 23 | KNIGHT | 178CM ~ 5’8FT | SLEEPY |

SIMPLE. EASY. CALM. RELAXED SLEEPY LOVER. WITH A LOOK OF A ROYAL PRINCE. A TRUE SLEEPING BEAUTY.

SEBEK ZIGVLT | 20 | LOYAL KNIGHT OF LORD MALLEUS | 188CM ~ 6’1FT | LOUD |

YOULL ALLWAYS COME SECOND TO LORD MALLEUS. SUCH A HARD-HEADED TYPE BOYFRIEND, YET ODDLY DEDICATED TO YOU.

POPULAR DIASOMNIA POLY OPTIONS:

! BEST SELLER ! MALLEUS DRACONIA AND LILIA VANROUGE

LILIA VANROUGE AND SILVER

SILVER AND SEBEK ZIGVOLT

MALLEUS DRACONIA AND SEBEK ZIGVOLT

MALLEUS DRACONIA, LILIA VANROUGE, SILVER, AND SEBEK ZIGVOLT

! CUSTOMIZE YOUR PAIRING !

! CHOOSE YOUR BOYFRIEND !

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CATEGORY: RSA AND NBC COLLABS

—RSA

! BEST SELLER ! !PREMIUM! NEIGE LEBLANCHE | 24 | ACTOR, PERFORMER, MUSICIAN, ETC | 175CM ~ 5’7FT | INNOCENT |

A SWEETHEART, WHO IS SO VERY HONEST AND WANTS TO SPOIL YOU ENDLESSLY. READ POEMS, BAKE PIE, CLEAN THE HOUSE AND RELAX. SUCH A SWEETIEPIE

!PREMIUM! CHE’NYA | 25 | LOCAL DIRECTIONIST | 178CM ~ 5’8FT | LOOPY |

LAID BACK AND RELAXED. WITH AN ODDLY HORRIBLE SENSE OF DIRECTION, WHO MANAGES TO STILL FIND YOU SOMEHOW.

! CHOOSE YOUR BOYFRIEND !

—NBC

! BEST SELLER ! !PREMIUM! ROLLO FLAMM | 28 | — | 184CM ~ 6’0FT | SOFISTICATED |

NO ONE CAN MATCH HIS VERY OWN GRACE. HOW LUCKY YOU ARE TO BE WITHIN HIS VERY PRESENCES.

! CHOOSE YOUR BOYFRIEND !

…LOGGING IN…

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WELCOME! TO NRC RENT-A-BOYFRIEND! I AM YOUR LOVELY HELPER, ORTHO, SO PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE! [ THE ↷ SHOWS THE OPTIONS]

PICK FROM THE OPTIONS BELOW:

HAIR COLOR ↷

EYE COLOR ↷

HEIGHT ↷

BODY TYPE ↷

PERSONALITY ↷

HOBBIES ↷

FANTASTIC! NOW TELL ME, DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE FROM THE CATALOG?

HEARTSLABYUL↷

SAVANNACLAW↷

OCTAVINELLE↷

SCARABIA↷

POMEFIORE↷

IGNIHYDE↷

DIASOMNIA↷

RSA↷

NBC↷

AMAZING! NOW PLEASE SHARE ANY CONTACT INFORMANTION AND A INTRODUCTION ABOUT YOURSELF!

NAME:

PHONE NUMBER:

EMAIL:

INTRODUCTION:

AWESOME! WELL KEEP YOU UPDATED WHEN YOU FUTURE BOYFRIEND IS NOTIFYED TO SET UP YOUR FIRST DATE! LETS BEGIN PAYMENT SET UP!

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HERE AT NRC, WE GUARANTEE BEST SATISFACTION!

ⓒ 2023 love-thanatopsis — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.

[strictlyfavorites]

They used to use urine to tan animal skins, so families used to all pee in a pot & then once a day it was taken & sold to the tannery. If you had to do this to survive you were "piss poor."

But worse than that were the really poor folk who couldn't even afford to buy a pot; they "didn't have a pot to piss in" & were the lowest of the low.

The next time you are washing your hands & complain because the water temperature isn't just how you like it, think about how things used to be. Here are some facts about the 1500s.

Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and they still smelled pretty good by June. Since they were starting to smell, however, brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married.

Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women, and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it . . . hence the saying, "Don't throw the baby out with the Bath water!"

Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof, resulting in the idiom, "It's raining cats and dogs."

There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed, therefore, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy beds came into existence.

The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt, leading folks to coin the phrase "dirt poor."

The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way, subsequently creating a "thresh hold."

In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire.. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while, and thus the rhyme, "Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old."

Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, "bring home the bacon." They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and "chew the fat."

Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous.

Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the "upper crust."

Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial.. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up, creating the custom of holding a wake.

England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive, so they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, saved by the bell or was considered a dead ringer.

And that's the truth. Now, whoever said History was boring?

[plumadot]

ok here it is! cleo fic with formatting yay!! -🍳

>You are a traveller. 

>Your footprints stain the path behind you, imprints in the slick mud. Rain is lazily pouring down from mushy clouds, and the sky does little to light your way. 

>You wish that your hometown was closer, but alas, it’s still a day’s walk away. You won’t make it with this rain, so the smarter choice would be to look for shelter. Somewhere warm and well-lit.

> Also dry, you think, as a cold raindrop meanders down your back. 

>Thankfully, you can see small lights in the distance. A glistening town lies in front of you.

>You walk faster.

~~~~~~~~~

>Within the town, it’s easier to hide from the rain that tormented your journey. Lamp posts give the air a soft glow as your search for some place to hide away for a while. 

>The first sign you see reads “The Crastle”. It connects to a small yet lively tavern that smells of ale and cider. It seems safe enough (a quick glance assures you of no shadowy figures or incapacitated drinkers), so you enter. 

>Instantly the warmth of a fire and closely packed bodies floods over you. You let out a sigh of relief, shrugging off your wet coat onto a nearby coat rack.

>You approach the bar and find an empty stool. The bartender and another patron are talking, and you decide to let them finish before interrupting.

>The bartender’s hair drapes over her face, so you can’t see what she’s whispering to the man with a green cloak (is it…fuzzy?). He fidgets with a few small blue flowers before placing them gently in her fiery locks. When he’s done, she musses his hair (which produces a sound close to a squawk) before turning to you.

>Cleo: Welcome to the Crastle! Name’s Cleo, how can I help you?

>You: Uh, I can get something to eat? Preferably warm.

>Cleo: Storm got to you?

>You nod.

>You: Yeah, it came in while I was traveling. I’m soaked to the core.

>Cleo: Of course, of course! Let me find something for you in the kitchen.

>You: Thanks.

>They turns around to get your food, and that’s when you notice their sleeves-or rather lack of them. 

>What you had originally taken for long, detached sleeves is actually…skin. Almost purple in tint, but skin nonetheless. You didn’t notice at first, but now it sticks out like a sore thumb. Painfully obvious.

>The stitches holding her bicep together stretch as they balance a tray skillfully. They hand the first bowl to a masked man (who accepts with careful hands and a small nod) before they hand the second to you. 

>Cleo: House stew, hot off the stove!

>You take the bowl off her hands, look up to thank her, and notice that her eyes have no whites.

>You: Th…thank you.

>Cleo: ‘Course! 

>Cleo: …

>Cleo: Do I have something on my face?

>You say nothing. CLEO turns to the same cloaked man from earlier. 

>Cleo: BDubs, do I have something on my face?

>The man scrunches his nose up in concentration.

>Bdubs: Uh, you have eyes, a nose, eyebrows, lips? What am I looking for?

>Cleo: Something out of place! Like a food smudge or bloodstain.

>BDUBS squints his eyes.

>Bdubs: Nothing out of the ordinary, but…

>He turns to look at you, then back at CLEO. You, then CLEO, a few times. 

>Bdubs: Your stitches. And eyes. 

>Cleo: Oh, my stitches! No wonder.

>They turns to you.

>Cleo: I’m undead! Technically a Hollow One, but most people just say undead. The stitches are normal, and so are the eyes, don’t worry.

>You: Oh. Sorry for staring.

>Cleo: Nah, you’re good! All newcomers stare a bit. 

>You: And thank you for the stew. 

>Cleo: Of course, of course! I’ll be back to my duties, but holler if you need me!

>You nod, and CLEO walks off to assist another customer. 

~~~~~~~~~

>Throughout the evening and into the night, CLEO tends to customers, embroidered robes swishing around her knees as she walks.

>BDUBS, apparently the other worker for the tavern, waits tables during the dinner rush. You notice that the flowers on every table are visibly brighter each time he passes by.

>Everything about this tavern is a little strange. The fire burns in pastel colors, the food tastes like memories, and the singer on stage has a chair that looks like…a spider. He notices your lingering gaze and waves. You wave back.

>But it’s nice. No one seems to care about the state of their clothes or the shape of their ears. They just want to drink some beer, eat some food, have a good time. 

>You have seconds, then thirds of the stew. CLEO smiles each time you ask for another.

>Cleo: I’m glad you like it! Etho brought the recipe back from one of his quests. Isn’t that right Etho? 

>The masked man (presumably ETHO) nods.  

>You: Well, it’s really good. Thank you.

>ETHO nods again, and you think you see a flush of pink behind the mask. Seeing the stoic man blush with compliments was quite satisfying. You should try giving them out more often.

>The comfy atmosphere in the tavern, combined with the mixture of stew and ale settling in your stomach, makes you sleepy. Eventually you ask to rent a room from CLEO, give them pay for the night and for the food, and head to bed. You’re asleep the moment your head hits the pillow.

~~~~~~~~~

>Soft sunlight filters through the closed shutters as your eyes flutter open. You prop yourself up to a sitting position and yawn. That was the best sleep you had gotten since you started your journey. Even still, the warm blankets tempted you back to the land of dreams. But you are a traveler, and your journey is not over.

>When you head back to the bar, CLEO is still there, exactly where you left them last night. Now they’re cleaning dishes, plates and bowls and silverware that pile up on both sides of them. 

>Cleo: Hey you! Looks like you’re up bright and early. Heading back on the road?

>You: Yeah, I still have a day’s walk ahead of me. Do you serve breakfast here?

> She smirks and hands you a bowl of…stew. 

>Cleo: If you don’t mind leftovers. 

>You’re too hungry to care, digging into the cold stew almost immediately. CLEO laughs.

>Cleo: Ha! I guess you don’t! 

>She continues to laugh, and then you’re trying not to laugh with her, which is unsuccessful and only results in you spitting out a mouthful of stew, which magically transforms her laughs into guffaws, and then you’re laughing so hard you have to put down the bowl and clutch your sides. Somewhere in between, a sleepy BDUBS shuffles in.

>Bdubs: What in the WORLD is going on here??

>Cleo: I finally found someone who likes cold scraps as much as Etho, if you can believe it!

>Bdubs: Well, you interrupted my schreep. Apologize.

>CLEO rolls her eyes overdramatically, but her laughing smile never leaves her face.

>Cleo: I’m sorry I interrupted your beauty sleep, princess. Will you ever forgive me? 

>BDUBS slouches onto CLEO’s shoulder.

>Bdubs: Only if we can take a nap later. With Etho, because he makes a better pillow than you.

>Cleo: Deal. 

>CLEO ruffles BDUBS' hair as he wraps his arms lazily around their neck. It’s sweet and intimate in the way close friends usually are around each other, and you can’t help but feel like you’re intruding on some morning ritual of theirs (not that they seem to mind). You eat faster to make up for it, then walk back to your room to start packing while CLEO and Bdubs continue their embrace. 

~~~~~~~~~

>You leave the Crastle with a heavy bag but a light coin purse. You can’t find it in you to regret it though, because the experience was far better than any musty hostel room you’ve been to. It felt like an actual rest, and not a waiting place where you anxiously waited to begin your journey again.

>You hope to see CLEO and BDUBS again, smiling, laughing, loving. You hope you can come back and find something to compliment ETHO on and watch him blush and fidget with his shirt collar in embarrassment. Because all those things reminded you of safety, comfort, home.

> But home wasn’t here. Home was a day’s walk away, and if you wanted to get there before sundown, you’d have to start now.

>After all, you are only a traveler. 

ok first of all: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

secondly!!!!! i love the way you wrote this!!!! it's like you're the dm and i'm the player and clethubs are the loveliest npcs i will ever meet. which is true!!!!! they are so soft and gentle and sweet and lovely and mysterious and cool and strong and open and friendly and charming!!!!!!! aaaaaa the little things like cleo not immediately noticing why the traveller is staring at them, bdubs making flowers bloom brighter with zero effort, etho seeming a little absent from the conversations but still being included in his own little way... AND SCAR PROVIDING STELLAR BACKGROUND MUSIC,,, the crastle is just such a lovely... ecosystem in this, definitely homely vibes even though it might not actually be "home",,, it feels wonderful and magical but also light!!!! whimsical!!!!!!!!! i love it i love it i love it,,, i love THEM!!!!

ahhhhhh thank you for this gift... i hope the traveller finds a place to call home too...

[cloverdaisies]

FANTASIZE★彡 - K.SW 🎀🩺🌬️

sunwoo! x reader! bartender! ʚїɞ suggestive ! tbz short imagine!

description: “i fantasize about it all the time if you were mine.. ♪” there was something about your coworker that made you want him, maybe it was his cherry red lips or every charming word that slipped from them - whatever it was, you couldn’t resist. ʚїɞ

member: sunwoo x reader

genre: short! mildly suggestive!

SATURDAY NIGHT, 20:45 # PM

Darkness drew over the city, the night lit up with booze and bass lines blasting from every bar in the quarter. The bar you worked at particularly was the space for pre-drinks, with sober party goers coming to drunken themselves up before filling up the clubs later in the night.

Every night you signed yourself in, checked the list of other staff working and everytime you saw Sunwoo written in scruffy hand writing on that sheet your heart beat just a second faster than usual.

Irresistibly attractive, he seemed to be a favorite amongst every customer to waltz through the doors and it’s not hard to see why. With his messy hair, a jaw that could tear paper, dark eyes that produced the most seductive stare and lips that could kiss the most perfect mark on another’s skin. He was probably some reincarnation of the devil’s favorite persuader.

The bar didn’t look particularly busy despite it being a Saturday night, it was usually lined with drunkards begging for another pint but tonight there was only a few customers to serve.

“Hi.” You walked onto the bar greeting Sunwoo, as he was pouring a pint of beer into a glass from one of the pumps. You observed his hands, the veins running up them, leading to his thin long fingers which were wrapped around the beer glass.

“Hello.” He replied with a bright tone, briefly looking up to send you a smile as he carried on serving customers. It was a gorgeous grin that sent serotonin running wild around your brain, everything else in your body urging you not to just collapse right there and then.

Since tonight didn’t seem to be getting any busier, whilst Sunwoo served you grabbed a mop to wipe down the bar before a possible rush came in. You began swiping up the bar, managing to get every spot but under the shelf where Sunwoo was stood.

“Can I just get where you are?” You asked politely, he replied with a quick “sure thing” as he was still between pouring a drink. He stepped back hand still under the beer pump finishing the pint, you slid past him to mop the missed patch, almost stopping your whole pulse, he placed his free hand on your waist as you got past. A light touch that sent warmth, running through every stream of blood in your body. You could feel the silver bands of rings wrapped his finger make contact with your spine, it felt like magic.

With red ears, you quickly finished up the job and put the mop back in its place, fighting every instinct within you to not just grab his shirt and pull him into the back and put all this pent up tension to rest.

For the rest of the night, the bar continued at a slow pace, which was unusual for a Saturday. However it only meant you could close up earlier, an early bed time wasn’t on your list on complaints at all.

The door swang open last minute, causing yours and Sunwoo’s attention to move to the entrance where a girl in a pretty pink party dress sauntered in confidently.

“Hey baby.” She sat on the front of the bar stools, opening her purse and asking for a quick pint to which Sunwoo huffed out in frustration.

“What’s wrong with you? We’re going out tonight, cheer up. Jeez.” She shook her head, as he pulled out a glass to pour. You felt nothing but anger pool at the bottom of your stomach, acknowledging how she’d spoke to him like dirt.

“I told you already, you can go out. I’m not going anywhere.” Before she could reply to that statement, the ale pump began dropping and spurting. “Ah shit, we’re out of ale, I gotta go change the keg.” Sunwoo sighed as he checked the pumps, needing to have them ready for the morning staff to use.

“I’ll come take out the old barrel.” You followed him down to the cellar, conveniently the only place in the entire bar without cctv attached to every corner. Plus moving one of those massive metal barrels tended to be a two man job anyway.

“Is that your girlfriend?” You scoffed, sitting on top of one of the crates in the drinks cellar, it was enjoyable watching how he made the heavy lifting look as if it was easy, the way his muscles flexed poking out of his short sleeved shirt.

“Unfortunately.” He replied briefly, trying to focus on the job at hand but miserably failing as he caught sight of the way your legs looked, your skirt having rode up as you sat down.

“Then why is she your girlfriend if it’s unfortunate?” You taunted him, with a laugh, trying to make light of the fact he was letting himself be dragged around like a poor dog on a leash.

“Ehh. She wasn’t always like that.” He dusted off his hands, standing up straight to look at you with those familiar piercing eyes.

“Mmm. If you’re unhappy you should let her know.” You simply suggested, watching him roll his eyes as if he hasn’t heard that statement a thousand times already.

“You don’t think I haven’t?” He cocked his head, giving it a crack, which exposed his neck in the most attractive way you’d ever seen a man move.

“Do better.” Your voice dropped to be more sultry, taunting him again as you jumped down from the crate to your back against the metal shelves behind you.

“Better?” He laughed in annoyance walking closer towards you, with slow daunting steps that raised your pulse to the maximum, anticipating the worst you backed as much as you could up to the shelf.

“I think I could do much better right now.” He was dangerously close, so close you could feel the warmth of his fire chest the fresh scent of his breath and cologne mixing into to this masculine heat that sent all of your natural instincts wild. You looked up at him with your sparkling eyes, that sent him into heaven every time he caught.

“Fuck sake. I can’t do thi-” Before he could finish that unforgivable whine you grabbed him by his collar and smashed your lips on to his. Fire sparking between you both, hips crashing into one and others as he firmly gripped on to your waist his hands threatening to travel lower. All of your fantasies about this man, coming true in one moment, as things began to get more and more heated.

You broke things up, looking up at him with awkward eyes that only riled him up more, it took everything within him to tear himself away from you, you were absolute poison to him, you only made him more and more weak every time he laid eyes on you.

“You’re gonna kill me one day.” He grunted, smiling slightly towards the end of the sentence, a sly smirk that drove you wild. He was a dangerous case, you knew that from his every move, however it was impossible to resist.

a/n: how i feel after writing this! 😵‍💫 DIZZY… he’s more delulu than us… fr… also ari better release fantasize ik she’s kinda cancelled atm but that song is absolutely unreal… i’m a sucker for anything with a britney sound… KIM SUNWOO YOU WILL KILL ME MF!!!

[lemonmaid]

Fast food jobs I think Dorm Leaders have worked.

I'm at work so I thought of this while making food, but send in request!

Riddle Rosehearts : Dairy Queen and Trey's family Bakery.

I feel like after his overbolt he wanted to explore and experience things he couldn't before. So he got a job to try things out.

"Riddle how was Dairy Queen?"

"It was alright for a first job, I hated making blizzards though".

"Yeah when Riddle came to work at the bakery, his muscle memory was the worst".

"How so?".

"Let's say when he was making milkshakes for customers he was flip them upside-down".

Leona Kingscholar : Waffle House

During his teenage angst years he was badmouthinh servants and food workers, so his mom has enough and decided to get him a job so he will understand how hard it is being a worker.

"Leona?"

"..."

"You know that stigma around waffle house? The fights? Let's just say he ran a fight club!".

"WHAT"

"Ruggie cut the shit, I didn't start them, but I did finish them".

Azul Ashengrotto : Family Restaurant

Since it is said his family owns their own restaurant, I can imagine him as a child coming from school and doing his homework in the corner of the restaurant and when he got older (old enough not to break child labor laws ) he worked as a host/server or dishwasher.

"How do you feel about tipping Azul?"

"Well my family pays our workers above minimum wage in the Atlantic, so tipping isn't necessarily but it is seen as a complement".

"PSST Yuu/Name, people tip there more because there's rumors that their family works with the mafia"

"Floyd, stop."

Kalim Al-Asim : Sonic

He saw an ad where the employees got to Rollerblade to cars to being food. He begged for weeks just to have a job. His family complied but he was only allowed to do it for a week with Jamil's help.

"Yeah! It was super fun!! But I wasn't allowed to rollarskate, they said 'we don't do that anymore'. So Jamil took me to Roller-Rink after work!"

"He would pout everytime we passed it on the way home...."

Vil Schoenheit : Starbucks

A video circled around of a blond Karen who looked kinda like Vil (maybe or maybe not it was him, PR teams worked hard) bitching about her Chai latte not being hot. So Vil decided to work at Starbucks for two weeks just to bring up his reputation and "be humbled".

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Kinda, it was a nice experience but so many people came in asking just for autographs to the point where the manager had to put a sign up saying if you bought 20 dollars worth of food or drinks they get a free autograph".

"So we're you the karen?"

"... listen we all have our bad days, but now I get free Starbucks for life. Now what do you want to drink?".

Idia Shroud : McDonald's

Remember when BTS meal was available at McDonald's and workers got shirts are started selling them for hundreds of dollars? I feel like Idia would do the same thing for like a game collaboration or a popular idol group. Literally only applies for the merch.

"Did you enjoy working there?"

"No. The social interaction was awful, people are so fucking rude. I'm sorry that I misheard you when you said you want a fucking mcnugget".

"Damn, salty much?"

"You know how many rude customers got spit in their food? Alot. That's why I will never eat there again" *shivers*

"Welp atleast you got this cool shirt".

Malleus Draconia : None.

I'm sorry but I can not see this man working a day in his life unless he was told to do the dishes as a punishment, but even then he didn't finish doing them because Lilia felt bad

"Child of Man, I don't understand why you have to leave to work".

"Some of us aren't from old money or have a whole ass castle decaded to their "hoard"".

"I don't like your attitude".

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 Al-Jazeera Arabic publishes new footage of desperate, starving Palestinian civilians in northern Gaza being shot and killed in cold blood by Zionist snipers who targeted the civilians as they attempted to retrieve food aid that was air dropped into Gaza a distance from where the group had been gathered, a direct violation of International humanitarian law and a crime against humanity.]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏠💥🚑 🚨

ISRAELI OCCUPATION FORCES CAUGHT OPENING GUNFIRE ON STARVING PALESTINIANS ON DAY 182 OF GENOCIDE

On the 182nd day of "Israel's" Special Genocide Operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 5 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 54 civilians, mostly women and children, while another 82 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

According to Gaza's Ministry of Health, many victims remain trapped under the rubble of buildings they were sheltering in at the time of being bombed and shelled, who, although presumed dead, are unable to be reached due to the IOF actively blocking paramedic and civil defense crews from reaching the sites of Israeli attacks.

Meanwhile, in an unusual move, the McDonald's corporation will be buying the entirety of the Alonyal McDonald's franchise In "Israel", which includes a total of 225 stores, employing approximately 5'000 Israelis.

McDonald's CEO Chris Kempczinsky said the franchise has seen "meaningful business impact" as a result of boycotts and protests organized by the BDS movement against the Israeli franchise, along with other McDonald's chains, after the Israeli franchise announced it would be offering free meals to Zionist soldiers committing a genocide in the Gaza Strip, beginning after the events of October 7th.

McDonalds added that it “remains committed to the Israeli market and to ensuring a positive employee and customer experience in the market going forward."

Sales growth for the McDonald's division of the Middle East, India and China were down significantly, with sales growth for October-December at just 0.7%, well below the market expectations of 5.5%.

Similarly, sales for Starbucks, another U.S. company which has deep financial ties to "Israel," while the leadership of the company holds an openly Pro-"Israel" stance, has also seen significant harm to sales due to boycotts and protests, prompting CEO Laxman Narasimhan to state back in February that Starbucks had seen an "significant impact on traffic and sales."

Meanwhile, the Zionist entity's authorities released a total of 101 Palestinian prisoners from Gaza who were kidnapped and detained by the IOF during its war of genocide in Gaza, many of whom showed signs of torture, and included some prisoners who were taken during "Israel's" raid of the Nasser Medical Complex in Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip.

Meanwhile, occupation warplanes bombarded agricultural lands in the vicinity of the Salah al-Din Gate, along the Egypt-Palestine border in the city of Rafah, in the south of Gaza.

At the same time, the carnage of "Israel's" war of genocide in Gaza resumed on Friday, with renewed artillery shelling of the central and western Khan Yunis governate, while the IOF also resumed bombing on the southern Gazan city of Rafah.

Intense Zionist airstrikes targeted Sheikh Zayed City, in the north of the Gaza Strip, while the central governate of Gaza also saw renewed artillery shelling.

At midnight, Zionist fighter jets bombed several residential buildings in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood, southwest of Gaza City, in the north of Gaza, while occupation forces directed an intense artillery bombardment on the southwestern and southeastern areas of Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, as well as directing artillery fire on residential homes to the east of the Al-Maghazi Refugee Camp in the central Gaza Strip.

The resumed intense Zionist bombardments across the Gaza Strip led to dozens of deaths overnight, along with the wounding of scores of others, including women and children, many of whom remain buried under the rubble of their homes and shelters.

IOF jets also bombed several residential homes in the Batn al-Sameen neighborhood, located to the southwest of Khan Yunis, while also bombing the village of Abasan, to the east of Khan Yunis.

Elsewhere, Zionist forces withdrew troops from the eastern region of Tanzania, coinciding with the intense bombardment of the area.

Tragically, local paramedic and civil defense personnel recovered the bodies of of three martyred civilians from the town of Al-Qarara, to the north of Khan Yunis.

At the same time, Israeli occupation warplanes bombed various parts of the central Gaza Strip, including the areas of Al-Nuseirat, Al-Maghazi, Al-Zawayda, and Deir al-Balah, resulting in the martyrdom of at least 15 Palestinian civilians, and also wounding a number of others.

Zionist occupation air forces also bombed a gathering of civilians near the Abu Holi Junction, northwest of Al-Qarara, resulting in the deaths of at least three civilians and wounding a multitude of others.

Back in northern Gaza, in yet another horrific tragedy, occupation warplanes bombed civilian structures in the Beit Hanoun area, with a second strike targeting paramedic crews as they attempted to transport the dead and wounded to a nearby hospital.

As a result of "Israel's" Special Genocide Operation in the Gaza Strip, the death toll among the Palestinian population has risen in excess of 33'091 civilians killed, over 25'000 of those martyred being among women and children according to the United States Pentagon, while another 75'750 others have been wounded since the start of the latest round of Zionist aggression, beginning on October 7th, 2023.

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@WorkerSolidarityNews

[thou-babbling-brook]

Sanctuary

AO3

Rating: T

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Relationship(s): Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad/Maria Thorpe

Word Count: 6344

Tags: Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, Maria Thorpe, Al Mualim, Original Characters, Assassin's Creed I, Masyaf, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Crusades, Implied Happy Ending

Summary: After stumbling upon a small caravanserai during a narrow escape, Maria has questions about Altaïr's past - particularly, his defining scar.

This fic is based on some of @nebulacrum's thoughts and headcanons about Altaïr's relationship with Al Mualim, along with his lip scar.

You can click here to see @ramshackledtrickster's accompanying pieces!

I hope you guys enjoy!!!

“Baba, we have customers!”

Fahmi glanced up from his ledger, brow furrowed and eyes squinted as the setting sun squeezed through the cracks in the sandstone walls. His son bounced before him while gesturing wildly to the door. His words blended together with the constant ringing present in Fahmi’s ears. Setting his hands against the desk, he rose, groaning as the aches in his joints cried in protest.

“Ameen,” he murmured, hunched as he shuffled to the gnarled wooden door, sand seeping onto the floorboards as the evening gusts of wind swept the hot sand inside. Maryam wiped her hands on her tattered apron before laying them on Ameen’s shoulders. 

“Come, it is late, and your father is tired,” she whispered, kissing her son’s head while guiding him away from the door. Fahmi nodded his thanks, shuffling to the window and shielding his eyes from the golden glare of the sun as it sank into the horizon. 

“But Mama!” Ameen protested. Maryam shushed him, her words inaudible as she and her son walked through the narrow doorway. Fahmi groaned as he reached down to the floor. Grabbing a few wooden panels, he straightened his back and placed them against the open window. His wrinkled hands trembled with each movement. Each knuckle ached as he flexed his hands and flattened his palms against the wood.

A resounding thud against the door disturbed the sand and dirt gathered by the entrance. Squinting, Fahmi poked an eye through the minuscule cracks in the wood panels. Two camels knelt before the water trough. Their backs were still covered with blankets and saddles. Yet, aside from the rushing winds of sand, the quiet hissing of nearby snakes, and the low chuffs of the camels, Fahmi found no sign of visitors.

Ameen rushed to his side, much to the protest of his mother as he tugged at his father’s robes. “I told you!”

Fahmi quieted the child, hobbling to the door as he pressed his ear against the wood. Another resounding set of knocks, this one more desperate than the first, echoed in the sandstone room. Broken Arabic shattered the silence. A woman, her voice high and exhausted, shouted through the door. Her accent was foreign, reminding them of the soldiers that had marched through the desert not long ago. Maryam tightened her hold on Ameen, pressing him against her front with wide eyes.

Maryam turned to her husband. “We were not expecting any caravans for another week.”

“I know,”  he replied, voice barely above a whisper. Ameen curled against his mother as the pounding continued.

The voice begged and pleaded behind the door. Her pronunciations were muddled and awkward, but the desperation caused Fahmi to move his knobby hand. Slowly, he unlatched the door, prying it open enough to peer an eye through the crack. Immediately, he gasped, hobbling back and slamming open the door. The voice (a Frankish woman, it seemed. Though, it was nearly impossible to differentiate between their accents) was not alone. The pale woman stumbled forward, thanking Fahmi in her jumbled Arabic while Maryam covered her mouth.

“Help,” the woman pleaded, her eyes wide as she looked at her companion. Arm slung over her shoulder, a hooded man collapsed against the woman’s frame. An arrow stuck from his side, covered in gore. His linen robes were coated in dark liquids, sand, and dirt, a few notable slashes still seeping blood into the cloth. Maryam rushed to his side, shouting over her shoulder for Ameen to grab freshly drawn bandages, wine, and washcloths. The boy scrambled backward before turning and sprinting through the doorway. Fahmi knelt before the strangers, eyes darting to his wife as they shared a fleeting, anxious look.

“What has happened?!” Fahmi demanded, still breathless as Ameen returned, arms full of supplies as he tripped and stumbled into Maryam. The foreign woman could only stare with furrowed brows in return, her eyes jerking over Fahmi’s face.

“Mercenaries,” the wounded companion spat. It was clear that he was from the region. If not, a traveler passing through to his home. His face remained hidden beneath his cowl, eyes toward the ground while Maryam gestured for the woman to help her. The two laid the man on his back, flat against the cool floorboard. With the glaring sun hidden behind vast mounds of sand, Fahmi reached for two candles, placing them by his wife’s feet once they were lit. “We barely escaped.”

“God has willed it,” Maryam praised. Ameen sat awkwardly by his father’s side, face growing pale as Maryam and the strange woman attempted to treat the man’s wounds. Fahmi laid his hand on Ameen’s back, rubbing it soothingly. 

“Ready a room for them,” Fahmi instructed his son. “They will need somewhere to rest if he survives, God willing.” Ameen nodded and rushed off down the side corridor. In the meanwhile, Fahmi came to his wife’s side, his hands laying on the strange man’s stomach while Maryam surveyed the entrance wound. 

“It is shallow, praise be,” Maryam explained. The man grimaced, clenching his jaw and nodding. He turned his face to the woman, trading Arabic for a language Fahmi could not quite identify. French? German? It had been so long since he had served in the sultan’s army. He could not recall the languages of their adversaries. The woman shouted frantically back, to which the man turned to Fahmi and Maryam.

“Can you pull it out?” the man asked through gritted teeth. Maryam and Fahmi exchanged glances. 

“It would be unwise.”

“I did not ask if it would be wise. I asked if you could.”

The foreign woman seemed to understand enough of their conversation to slap his shoulder, grasping his chin and forcing him to look at her. She shouted again, her voice choking while her eyes glistened. The man squeezed her forearm, groaning and murmuring something that managed to calm her enough for him to return his attention back to Fahmi.

“You were a soldier. Have you dealt with this before?” the man asked.

“How can you tell?” Fahmi redirected. 

“You avoid resting on your knees.”

“You are right, but I have not seen this in decades.”

The man hissed as Maryam accidentally brushed her hand against the arrow. “Please, sir. My… my wife can help, but I will not be able to translate while you pull it out. I need someone with experience to help your wife.”

Fahmi, for the sake of the man, ignored his own, visceral reaction to such information that the strangers were married. Instead, he nodded, motioning for the woman to join him and Maryam by the arrow. Maryam handed the woman a cloth damp with wine, offering a weak smile as Fahmi placed his hand on the man’s stomach and the end of the arrow.

There was a silence before the man’s screams echoed off the sandstone walls, Fahmi quickly ripping the arrow out of the man’s body. The foreign woman slammed her hands down against his side, the damp cloth preventing blood from pouring out. While the woman kept pressure on the wound, Fahmi helped Maryam wrap the bandages around the arrow wound. They bound the cloth snugly around the man’s muscular torso, then turned their attention to the other slashes on his body. To the mysterious man’s credit, his screams only lasted as long as it took for the arrow to come out. Instead, he huffed through his nose, turning on his side and retching as nausea struck him all at once. His wife stroked his hair beneath his cowl, shushing him in their shared language until he fainted from the pain.  

“We need to examine his body for more wounds,” Maryam explained. She turned to the man’s wife, hesitating before gesturing to her own eyes, then the rest of the man’s body. It was enough for the foreign woman to understand as she crawled to the other side of the man, raising his robes high enough on his chest to view his other wounds. The trio worked diligently, trading supplies as they wrapped the wounded man’s body. 

“How is his face?” Fahmi wondered. He pointed to his own face, and the foreign woman nodded in understanding. However, she paused at the cowl still covering her husband’s head, as though debating whether to look. Her brows knit while her lips formed a pout. Maryam scooted closer, offering to help. The woman hesitated, but finally gestured for Maryam to continue. Fahmi thought nothing of it until Maryam gasped. 

“My God! What happened to him?!” she demanded. Fahmi hurried to her side while the woman tilted her head, squinting her eyes. His eyes widened at the scar adorning the man’s chapped lips. A man younger than what his eldest son would be now, God rest his soul. He laid his fingers against the scarred tissue, twisted and stretched from his chin to his cheekbone. A scar several years old, yet poked and prodded at judging by the abnormal healing.

“God help him,” Fahmi murmured, bowing his head and murmuring a prayer. “This is no sword slash.”

“And these are no normal wounds. Who is this man?” Maryam replied quietly. She raised the cowl once more. The man’s wife glanced between the two with a puzzled expression. Ameen returned with the commotion now ended, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot by the corridor.

“The room is made, Baba,” he spoke. Fahmi nodded, groaning as his knees protested as he stood. The foreign woman stood alongside him, glancing between him and Ameen.

“Room,” Fahmi spoke to the woman, gesturing to his son. “He will take you to your room.” He spoke slowly, overly annunciating his words. The woman nodded along, reaching inside her pockets. She handed him a heavy bag of coins. When Fahmi poked inside, his eyes widened. It was nearly a month’s revenue inside the bag. He protested, shaking his head and shoving the bag back into her hands.

“Too much,” he protested. The woman chuckled tiredly, laying it on the desk regardless of his protests. She knelt down to her husband, slinging his arm around her shoulder and heaving him onto her back. Her muscles strained beneath her tunic and trousers. Fahmi had to admit his astonishment at the woman’s strength, knowing he would be of little help. Regardless, he did loop the man’s other arm around his own shoulder, helping the woman carry her husband to their room. Together, they laid the man down on the bed. Maryam laid a fresh set of bandages, linen cloths, and a bottle of wine by the bed.

“For the wounds,” she explained. The woman nodded, eyes downcast to her husband.

Ameen scampered forward, offering a small bucket. “He might be sick,” he mumbled, cheeks flushed with color. The foreign woman managed a smile, mustering her best Arabic as she murmured her thanks. Fahmi and Maryam bowed their heads in respect, ushering Ameen out of the room and closing the door behind them. The couple shared fearful looks.

Just what kind of man had arrived at their doorstep? Worse – who had this man angered that dared mutilate his face before God?

.~.~.

“I have questions.”

Altaïr retched into the bucket, coughing and sputtering while nausea overcame him. He gagged, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before turning to Maria. “Right now?”

“Yes, but I will give you the courtesy of finishing,” Maria decided, scooting closer to the Assassin. Her palm rubbed his back as he heaved. 

“How kind,” Altaïr muttered.

“I rather thought so.”

Altaïr heaved into the bucket again. This time, Maria slid her hands to Altaïr’s chest, holding him up while he kept the bucket close to his frame. Freshly changed bandages demonstrated that Altaïr’s wounds were healing appropriately, but they did little to dissuade the nausea. She laid her cheek against his toned back. 

“You called me your wife.”

Altaïr panted, setting the bucket down by the bed. “What?”

“Your wife. You called me your wife when you spoke to the couple,” Maria murmured. 

Altaïr said nothing. He laid back against the pillows, eyes closed as he steadied his breathing. Maria propped her elbow on the pillow next to him, cheek resting on her palm.

“You were a fool for taking that arrow to your side,” she chastised. 

“You would have done the same for me,” Altaïr replied. His eyes remained shut, brows furrowed as beads of sweat cascaded down his face and chest, his robes long abandoned as they sat folded neatly in a nearby chair. The sweating was good, Maria reminded herself, though it was harder and harder to do so with how pale her companion was becoming.

“It does not make you any less a fool,” Maria murmured. She laid her hand on his chest, fingers splayed over his torso. Altaïr laid his hand over hers, his heart thumping against her palm. 

“I thought you had questions,” Altaïr whispered. He opened an eye, peering down at Maria. She hummed.

“I do. You ignored my first one,” Maria replied.

“It was not a question.”

Maria huffed, pushing on Altaïr’s chest. “Fine. Why did you call me your wife?”

“To avoid suspicion.”

“You could have called me your sister.”

Altaïr paused. “Would you have preferred as such?”

Maria pursed her lips. After a moment, she answered. “No.”

“Then I see no reason for concern,” Altaïr responded tersely. He grimaced as he shifted on the bed, holding his side. Maria sat up, easing Altaïr into a more comfortable position.

“I did not mind it,” Maria clarified. “You know I did not. I… I was just curious.”

Altaïr nodded, though Maria could not tell if he agreed. She fidgeted next to her friend, eyes falling to his lips. His familiar, plump lips, marked by his most defining feature. She leaned forward, reaching up to his lips and pressing her fingertips against his scar. Altaïr stilled. She could feel his body tense under her simple touch.

“They seemed horrified when they saw this,” Maria explained. “I did not understand why. They spoke too fast.” She repeated the few Arabic words she remembered, but they felt clunky and heavy on her tongue. Altaïr’s lips parted slightly, dry and chapped from their journey through the arid dunes. He avoided her eyes, tilting his face to the side as he reached for the goblet of water.

“Your Arabic is improving,” Altaïr complimented. 

Maria frowned. “You are avoiding the question.”

“You did not ask a question.”

“You know damn well what I meant.”

Altaïr shot her a look. Maria gulped. Yet, she held her chin high, too proud to back down from her words now. “I thought your scar was a battle wound, like mine. The man seemed to think otherwise.”

“It is, in its own way,” Altaïr muttered.

Maria laid her hand on Altaïr’s cheek, turning his face toward hers. She studied his scar, eyes narrowed as her fingers returned to trace the sensitive flesh. His upper lip split into his scar, providing a small slit into his mouth and exposing a sliver of his teeth and gums. It was barely noticeable from afar, and rarely had any man reached Altaïr’s face long enough to observe how his scar melded into his face. But for Maria, it had been the first feature she noticed, the cool metal of his hidden blade nicking her throat while she sneered. Admittedly, it had terrified her upon their first meeting. No man’s lips should form such a gruesome tear, after all. She was surprised it took the older couple so long to notice it. 

Maria was no doctor, but she had experienced more agonizing pains and wounds than the average man could dream of. The scar marked just above her left eyebrow proved it, nicked by a Saracen sword in a battle alongside Richard I. For years, Maria wore such a wound with honor. It was her first permanent scar since she had traded a wedding ring for a sword. A sign that no man, nor woman, could confine her. An affront to the English nobility that once trapped her. Such scars were not becoming of a woman, so Maria puffed her chest and bore hers with pride. Her scar was not a trap, but an escape from desirability as she wandered to the ends of the Earth. Her scars were gnarled and twisted and deep, but they had healed.

Altaïr’s most prominent scar differed in this regard. It was gnarled and twisted and deep like her own, but the flesh had not healed as hers had. Her eyebrow scar healed over a decade ago. Altaïr’s lip scar looked nearly as old, but the flesh had not healed. Not until recently, at least. The outer edges of his scar were light, contrasting against his deep tan and dark hair. The edges were fully healed. His lower lip and chin had been spared as well, the scar a faint pale against his skin. But whereas these areas were faint and light, the rest of the scar remained an irritated red. Not infected, but irritated, as though prodded at constantly. The dark shade of his upper lip failed to conceal the redness of his scar. Only in the last month or so had it begun to heal, slowly fading into a pinkish red.

Even as Maria trailed her fingers along his scar, Altaïr sat eerily still. Too still, as though he was bracing for impact. His jaw was clenched. His biceps tensed as Maria moved closer, her face lingering by his. She guided her fingertips to his jaw, brushing her thumb against his jawline. 

“You should shave,” Maria hummed, eyes glancing up. “Your face is growing scraggly.”

Altaïr cocked a brow. “Is that a question?”

Maria shook her head and pursed her lips, brows raised. “No. A suggestion.”

Altaïr stared at her. Those piercing, golden eyes that made even Maria shift under his gaze. She remained so close, barely a breath away from his lips. The puff of air from his nose as he exhaled tickled her own. 

“I can do it for you,” Maria suggested.

Altaïr almost smiled. “This feels like a demand rather than a suggestion.”

Maria rolled her eyes, huffing as she stood and walked to their things. Searching his bag, Maria located a small razor amongst his barren things. Throughout their time together, he always packed lightly. Truth be told, she was surprised he even possessed a razor. She returned to the bed, guiding Altaïr to sit up further with a candle in hand. She set the candle down on the bedside table, then unsheathed his razor. Carefully, Maria raised the blade to the Assassin’s jaw and scraped away a few wrily strands of curly, dark hair. 

“No water?” Altaïr asked.

“You will be fine,” Maria remarked, eyes focused on her work as she brought the blade closer to her thumb. “Besides, it is a trim. I rather like your facial hair. You should let it grow out.”

It did not escape Maria’s notice how Altaïr tensed at her words. For his sake, Maria paid it no mind and continued her work, trimming his coarse hair. A moment of comfortable silence passed, interrupted only by the scraping of the razor against Altaïr’s sharp jaw and the snoring of their camels just outside the minuscule caravanserai. Much to Maria’s surprise, it was Altaïr who broke the silence. 

“You said they were shocked to see my face?” Altaïr spoke. His words were uncharacteristically soft.

Maria frowned. “Not your face, your scar.”

“Is it not one and the same?”

Maria stopped in her tracks. She leaned back, narrowing her eyes as she tracked Altaïr’s movements. His golden gaze avoided hers, cast down upon the scratchy sheets. His lips were parted ever so slightly, Maria watching as he quickly swiped his tongue over them. Her eyes flicked to his hands, which lay awkwardly in his lap. Once again, his body was tense, muscles straining and breath shallow.

“What makes you say that?” Maria questioned, tone harsher than intended.

Altaïr’s throat bobbed as he shifted his gaze back to hers. “What makes you ask?”

“No, no,” Maria argued, setting the razor down against the bed. “We are not starting this. Altaïr, what makes you say that?”

There was a long pause. In the past, Maria would have dropped the subject entirely, writing it off as some sort of Assassin trick to dig into the deepest pits of her heart and mind. Now, however, Maria held her chin high as she forced Altaïr to keep her gaze, her heart thumping against her chest.

“How did the scar upon your brow form?” Altaïr asked. 

Maria closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. “Altaïr, I am not going to–”

“Do you want to know or not?” He snapped. Maria’s brow furrowed, and Altaïr quickly cleared his throat. He repeated his question, his voice much softer and weaker than before.

Maria stared incredulously, but ultimately decided to play along. “My first battle. One of Salāh ad-Dīn’s men slashed my brow.”

Altaïr nodded. “Were you shamed for it?”

Maria shrugged. “A few soldiers from my infantry joked here and there, but no.” She squinted her eyes and furrowed her brow. “What are you getting at?”

“In Islam,” Altaïr explained, “it is believed God places all of our senses and beauty into our faces. It is why Muslims avoid striking the face.”

Maria scoffed. “My scar begs to differ.” 

Altaïr did not laugh, though she did see the corners of his lips tug up in a phantom smile. “It is taboo to do so. It can leave the face… disfigured,” he explained. “It is not so easy to conceal as a scar on one’s arm or leg.”

Maria’s expression fell. She hesitated before she finally asked her burning question. “Where did you get your scar?”

“Who do you think?” Altaïr all but answered.

Maria should not have been surprised. She only knew of Altaïr’s master through his stories and his codex (Maria could not help it – his journal had been left wide open). Despite Altaïr’s almost nostalgic tone toward a man who had betrayed him time and time again, each story left a sour taste upon her tongue. Now, her tongue tasted bile and copper in disgust. 

“How old were you?” she demanded, her words eerily still. Her blood boiled. 

“Old enough to know better,” Altaïr replied, quiet. 

“Horseshit. How old were you?” 

“Thirteen winters.”

Maria stood from the bed, pacing back and forth by the side. “You were a boy. A boy!” She rustled her dark locks from their meticulously braided bun as she grasped and tugged at her hair.

“I knew better than to speak out of turn,” Altaïr replied, his voice raised almost defensively. “I owed everything to him. My progress, my training, my life. He cared for me, in some twisted way, after my father’s death.”

Maria flocked to his side, kneeling before him on the bed as she cupped his cheek. Her thumb grazed over his scar. She tried not to gag imagining a small boy, voice yet to crack, begging the one guardian in his life for mercy. Apologizing desperately for words that should not have offended an allegedly wise leader so greatly. 

“That is one thing,” she managed once her voice was composed enough. “But it should be healed. It should be healed by now. For God’s sake, Altaïr, you are twenty-seven! Why is it only now healing?!”

Altaïr caught his lip between his teeth. “I have never been good at staying my tongue. I needed reminders.” His jaw clenched as his throat bobbed. Maria nearly choked as he spoke. “If I would not close my mouth, he would pry it closed for me.”

Maria stared. What else were she to do? She stood, pinching the bridge of her nose while Altaïr silently stared – no, glared – down at his own hands. 

“Your master would mutilate you before God,” Maria murmured, her head spinning, “and you would defend him?”

“He was an ordinary man,” Altaïr replied softly, “in control of illusions.”

“This is no illusion, Altaïr.”

“I know.”

Maria tossed her hands in the air before setting them on her head, pacing once more. She inhaled, standing and placing her hands on her hips. She gestured to Altaïr, speechless as she attempted to form words on her heavy tongue. “For thirteen years, Al Mualim slit and prodded your mouth to silence you, on top of his manipulation. As a boy, I understand your hesitance, but you never once fought back?”

Altaïr stood, hand clasping his side while he straightened his back. Maria took a step back, eyes wide but jaw tensed. “How do you fight a man who thinks himself God?” he questioned with narrowed eyes. “What would I have gained? Where would I have gone?” Altaïr winced and sat back down, eyes cast down shamefully. Maria sighed, sitting next to him on the sheets.

“Assassins are not always required to hide their faces,” Altaïr confessed quietly. He tenderly rubbed his stub of a ring finger, thumb brushing over the seared and scarred skin. “Most lower their hoods in Masyaf if they are not patrolling. There is no reason to hide amongst brothers.”

“And you?” Maria dared ask.

Altaïr shook his head, running a hand through his coarse curls. “I was no brother. I was his personal weapon.” His throat bobbed, and Maria tore her face away when she noticed his golden eyes begin to glisten in the flickering candlelight. “He created me. He could mold me into whatever he pleased. He could slice and strike my face. He could shave my beard and treat me not just as a boy, but a dog. He could isolate me. He could tear my name from me and make me the son of no one, loved by nobody. He could do whatever he pleased.” He turned to Maria, voice wavering as he spoke. “Where would I have run to? Who would I have hidden behind that would not whisper my arrogance to Al Mualim?”

There was silence as both Altaïr and Maria turned to stare at the cracked sandstone before them. “My face was unsightly, he told me,” Altaïr whispered. “Disrespectful, even.” He bent forward, elbows digging into his knees while he craned his head and rubbed his eyes. “Better kept hidden beneath a cowl, even in the arms of my brothers.” Altaïr swallowed. “He was correct.”

“No,” Maria opposed. “Your scar is not unsightly. It is not disgusting, or disrespectful, or anything that blabbering fool would have you believe. Your face is not unsightly. You are not unsightly.”

Altaïr chuckled, though it nearly sounded like a sob. “You do not have to lie, Maria.”

“I am not!” Maria all but shouted, coming in front of Altaïr and bending her knees slightly, stopping when she was level with him.

“I am nothing.”

“You are everything,” she pleaded. Maria cupped each of his cheeks, thumbs brushing the heavy, dark bags beneath his kohl-covered eyes. “You are kind and good and curious and wise and beautiful.”

It was Altaïr’s turn to scoff. “Beautiful? I hoped in our time together, you would have some respect for me, even if minute.”

Maria bit back an argument. Instead, she reached for his hands, squatting on the ground while she squeezed them. “You are not some ‘ugly, old Assassin’ beneath your hood,” she murmured, briefly lowering her voice and swapping her accent to mimic his words from Cyprus. Once she had seen his face in Cyprus for the first time, she had thought he was joking during their initial meeting with his Cypriot allies. Now, staring into his piercing eyes, Maria’s heart shattered knowing he had truly not lied. At least, he did not believe so.

She held his hand to her lips and kissed each knuckle. “You are so beautiful. Strikingly so. In fact, it is embarrassing to admit,” she managed a soft laugh. “You are not some broken, shattered weapon. You are the Mentor of the Assassins. You are a scholar. You are a man. You are Altaïr. And Altaïr is more than enough.” 

Altaïr was quiet. Maria did not press for an answer. His tear-stained cheeks, illuminated by the candlelight, were enough to signal the power of her words. Her heart pounded as she imagined the utter agony one man could carry. Maria had little autonomy under Robert’s control amongst the Templars, but Altaïr had possessed none under Al Mualim since the age of eleven. His name was stripped from him. His masculinity was torn away in favor of a boy to manipulate. His face was mutilated simply because Al Mualim could. To be at the mercy of a man with none, who believed himself worthy of the powers of God… Maria choked back her tears, instead burying her face in his hands and kissing each palm. 

“Altaïr,” she murmured, gazing up into his tearful eyes, “you are everything to me.” She cupped his cheek, ignoring her own hot tears as she smiled solemnly. “You have given me a fresh start. You have given me compassion, wisdom, love.” She swallowed a sob, standing before repositioning herself on the bed. Altaïr still said nothing, his eyes simply following Maria with every movement.

“Please,” Maria begged softly. She cupped her hands around Altaïr’s. “We are more than the instruments people would craft us to be.” Shuffling forward, Maria laid his hands over her heart, her own hands keeping them flat against her chest. “You are Altaïr. I am Maria. That is all we need be.”

Maria could not recall what resulted in Altaïr’s lips melding perfectly against her own. Perhaps it was the thump of her heartbeat. Perhaps it was their matching tears and snotty noses. Perhaps it was Altaïr’s released anguish. Or perhaps, it was merely Altaïr distracting himself from his nausea. Whatever the case, Maria gladly opened her mouth, finding Altaïr’s mouth absolutely delectable as her fingers combed through his curly locks. It was not the first time their lips had met so fervently. It was not even the first time their lips had met with so much love. But it was the first time their lips had met so unencumbered. There was no hesitance as Altaïr deepened their kiss, no weariness behind his lips. Nothing but relief and love and catharsis.

Eyes fluttering, Maria dug her fingers into Altaïr’s coarse hair. The warmth of their breaths mingled with each kiss. She sank her teeth into Altaïr’s lower lip, tugging it and slipping her tongue into his mouth. All the while, Altaïr pressed fervently in return, deepening their kiss as he tugged her forward. Maria’s head spun as her lips lingered by Altaïr’s long after they parted for air. His breath was hot and ragged on her cool skin. She tilted her head up, squinting her eyes as she analyzed his face. Tears stained his sharp cheeks. His eyes were red and puffy. Even with his mouth shut, Maria could see his teeth and gums through the exposed sliver of his scar.

Maria cupped both of his cheeks, her thumbs swiping the stray tears from his skin. She watched as his eyes crinkled and his lips tugged into an awkward hint of a smile. His curved nose, slightly crooked from Maria’s boot to his face only a few months prior, bounced the candlelight off his face. The flickering light highlighted his strong, sharp cheekbones. His eyes, a piercing swirl of gold and amber, were only emphasized by the kohl beneath them. Every inch and crevice of his face captivated her. The longer she stared, the more he strained against her palms as if tugging away from the attention. Tears welled in his eyes as her hold left him utterly exposed. But she could not let him tear away. His dark curls and his striking gaze and his full lips and his winding scar and his scruffy beard and his tan skin enchanted her very being. 

She had never seen anything so beautiful in her life. 

“Say something,” Altaïr croaked.

Maria did not. Instead, she leaned forward, peppering gentle kisses to his scar. Maria was careful not to irritate the slit in his upper lip any more than it already was. Rather, she gingerly trailed her velvet lips up along his scar, leaving small caresses along the trail. His facial hair – not quite a beard, but not quite stubble – tickled her cheeks. She smiled. 

“My first demand as your wife,” Maria murmured between kisses to his scar, “is that you must grow your beard out. I am fond of it.”

The world spun still with her words. Beneath her gentle touch, Maria could feel Altaïr’s body stiffen. “What?”

“Oh honestly, Altaïr, you cannot just stop listening to me immediately!” Maria huffed. “You have to wait at least a year.”

“I do not understand.” His voice shook – perhaps from nausea, perhaps from nerves, or perhaps from both.  Maria laid a hand on his bandaged chest. His heart threatened to thump out onto the floor. She grinned.

“We have been like this for many months,” she explained. “Stumbling around our feelings like some prepubescent children. One might think us virgins the way we stammer about.”

“Aside from insulting our maturity,” Altaïr spoke, his face contorted in confusion, “I am assuming you have a point to this.”

Maria waved her hand in dismissal. “Hush, let me get there.” The Englishwoman grasped Altaïr’s hands in her own, her thumbs stroking his calloused palms. “But tonight… something… it is difficult to explain.” She inhaled and squeezed his hands. Her pale, cerulean eyes met his amber stare. “I love you. I think you and I know that intimately by now. But it was not until tonight, with the mercenaries, the arrow, your scar… that I understood the extent of my love.”

Altaïr furrowed his brow. “I still do not understand. Why now?”

“Because for the first time,” Maria breathed, “I thought I would lose you.”

“This is not my first arrow. This is not even our first battle.”

“No, but I have never seen you so injured or ill. I have never seen you, the great Altaïr, retching over a bucket with bandages covering your entire torso.”

“If you do not make a point soon, I fear you may again.”

Cautiously, Maria handed Altaïr the water-filled chalice, waiting until he had drunk his fill to continue. Her throat swelled with tears as she gulped down her pride. “You have been so truly and utterly vulnerable tonight. You have shared with me the deepest parts of your pain. You have let me care for you and stay by your side.” She smiled through her tears, rolling her eyes as she wiped a few away and scoffed at herself. “Oh good God, this is humiliating.”

Altaïr managed a smile. A true smile. Not the phantom of a smile, or a mildly amused look. A small, bright smile that tugged his lips into his cheeks and formed a pair of dimples. Good God, Maria had never even noticed that before, and the revelation was not aiding her poor attempt at an explanation. “No, it is not,” he assured quietly. It was his turn to cup her pale cheeks. He swiped a tear from her eye, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Maria inhaled sharply, praying that God would not see her break into some weeping wildflower.

Mustering the courage and dignity that remained, Maria tightened her jaw and stared up at Altaïr. “I would walk with you to the ends of time, Altaïr. To our glory, to our doom, I do not care. As long as I walk beside you and chastise you for your foolish decisions to put yourself in front of arrows for the rest of my life, I will be content.”

Altaïr hesitated. “How can you make such a decision so hastily?”

Maria laughed. “My life is nothing but hasty decisions, Assassin.” She crawled beside him from the edge of the bed, wiggling by his side to find a more comfortable position. “But this is not one of them.”

Altaïr laid his head against the creaking headboard, closing his eyes. “So, you have decided that you are my wife now? I have no say in the matter?”

“Is that a question?”

“Maria.”

“No,” Maria answered plainly. “Not yet. But I will be.”

“What makes you so sure?” Altaïr taunted.

“I am a stubborn woman. You are a hot-tempered man. One will wear the other down eventually,” she teased.

“What if I said no?”

“You would not have called me your wife, then.”

Altaïr grinned. “That is true.” He opened his eyes and turned toward Maria, who quickly shot out her hand to ease the pain in his side. “Then you will need to learn more Arabic. It was horrendous before.”

Maria feigned a gasp. “You said I was improving!”

“Both can be true,” Altaïr countered.

“Fine. Next time, I will leave you to die amongst the vipers and vultures in the dunes.”

“You would not.”

“I will stab the arrow back into your side, Altaïr.”

“Now that, you would do.”

The two glared at one another, squinting their eyes and puffing their chests, until finally, Altaïr began to gag. Maria swooped for the bucket, lifting it to her lover’s face before he heaved into it. He murmured apologies, but Maria merely shushed him, her fingers stroking his curly hair. 

“You are still a fool for taking that arrow,” she reminded.

“You still would do the same,” Altaïr grumbled, panting into the bucket before wiping his mouth and gulping down what water remained inside the goblet. Maria kissed the top of his head, grabbing the nearest rag and wiping the beads of sweat from his face.

“You are not a weapon, Altaïr,” she reminded, careful as she dabbed around his scar. “You are a man. You do not need to earn my love or any other through reckless acts. You are a man, and that is enough.” 

Altaïr nodded, and Maria prayed he believed her.