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wetforbritishactors123 · 3 years

Note

Omg I just read lovestruck teenagers. Please do a part 2 with a happy ending 😩✋🏻 only if you’d like, ofc

Sure thing! So I wrote this at 2am-4am and I have pretty weird ideas when during these hours, so there may be some random things in this part 2 as well as spelling errors.

But I am to believe it came out decently.

Part One is located here

So here it is

I'll Love You Forever (Draco Malfoy X Reader)

Sort of Angst in the beginning but it turns into a happy ending

Warnings: Embarrassing mother

Word Count: 2300+ words

Bold = Flashbacks

................................

You were a wreck, your eyes were puffy and red, your cheeks were tear-stained and you had dark circles under your eyes. You were still trying to get over your relationship with him, your first love. You’re only love, you thought. You shook your head, you’ll find someone else, you tried to convince yourself.

You looked at the large window of your bedroom and saw some birds sitting in a tree, the tree Draco would climb in order to sneak into your bedroom when you two were together. You closed your eyes and let the tears cascade down your face.

It was a late night of the summer before your 4th year and you were sketching away in the sketchbook that your boyfriend had given you for your birthday. You were drawing a picture of both him and you getting married. You may be young but you loved him and wanted to be with him forever. You heard something knock on the large window of your window, so you put down your sketchbook and got off your bed before walking towards your window, you carefully opened the curtains and were met with your boyfriend sitting on the large branch of the tree outside your window. You quickly opened your window, “Draco! What are you doing here?” You whispered at him.

“I came to see you obviously.” He said with a large grin on his face, you stared at him. You were so young and hopelessly in love with him.

“Well are you gonna let me in or????” He asked.

“Oh yeah!” You said as you snapped out of your loving trance before you helped him through your window.

You two stayed up late that night, talking and sneaking small pecks on the lips. As you grew tired you both went to your bed and snuggled, you both drifting away into a comfortable sleep.

He left early that morning, before your mother would come to wake you up. As he left your missed the heat he carried with him.

You still loved him and you hated it. Even though you promised him you’ll love him forever, you were loyal to the promise you made him and you hated it.

If things were different, you’d still be together.

It’s been over a month since you two split up, you thought it’d be easier this way. But you were wrong. Your heart ached for his love, your skin craved his touch, and your lips missed the way his tongue would dance across your bottom lip.

You were returning to Hogwarts in less than a week and you were worried. You were scared of how things would be, without Draco being yours. But was he yours in the first place?, you thought. When you both were still together at Hogwarts, you barely saw him during school hours. You’d have to sneak out of your dorms and meet in secret locations just to snog or have a simple conversation. And when you would steal a glance towards him in the Great Hall, Pansy and Astoria would hit on him and he wouldn’t even try not to flirt back. Secret relationship or not, he still had a girlfriend.

You turned away from the window and headed towards your closet being obligated because you were going to Diagon Alley so you had to change out of your Scooby-Doo pajama bottoms and Metallica T-shirt, you sighed as your fingers trailed down the clothes hanging on the hangers. Your fingers abruptly stopped as you reached the thin material of a dress. More specifically the dress you wore on your first date with him.

You were a nervous wreck, it was a warm summer evening and you were gifted with a date of the one and only Draco Malfoy. You were anxious, he asked you out and you were absolutely scared that this was some prank as you were a half-blood hufflepuff. But you had the biggest crush on the blonde slytherin.

Draco saw you as you paced up and the small path of the small park, he smiled at the sight of you. To him, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. You were wearing a knee-length flowy red dress that was decorated in yellow and orange flowers, your hair was curled at the ends, you finished the look off with white sandals. You looked gorgeous.

The young Malfoy walked up to you, “Hello Y/N, you look really pretty.”

You looked at him with your mouth hanging open, was Draco Malfoy complimenting you? You thought in disbelief.

“You look pretty too,” You said without thinking while blushing,”No not pretty...I’m not saying that you don’t look good, because believe me you always look good..Hot even...Shit...I mean that you look the male version of pretty...What’s the word?.....Oh yeah Handsome!” You rambled before looking down at your feet blushing red in embarrassment.

Draco smiled as you rambled, he thought it was cute. “I’m sorry for my rambling.” You said still looking at your feet.

“No need to apologize, it was cute.” He said as he grabbed your hand, you looked up at him with wide eyes as he slid his hand into yours before leading you down the small park path.

You didn’t mean for these new tears to stream down your red puffy cheeks, you quickly collapsed to your knees as you sobbed. Your mother was down cooking breakfast downstairs and all she could hear was your muffled cries through the ceiling, your mother quickly shut off the stove and moved the eggs onto a different burner, before heading up to your room.

Your mother entered your room and found you in your closet, your arms were wrapped around your knees as your head rested in between them. Your mother rushed over to you as she heard your muffled cries, she enveloped you into a warm embrace. She ran her fingers through your hair as she rubbed small circles on your back. “Shhh, it’s okay, let it out.”

You sobbed into her chest as she cradled you back and forth, “It hurts, mom, it hurts!” You sobbed. Your mother was the only one who knew of your secret relationship with the young Malfoy. She was accepting of it, she understood. “I know, it’s supposed to hurt.” She said as she planted a kiss against your forehead.

After an hour of you sobbing, your tears had ended, and you sat in a comfortable silence with your mother. “Do you want to talk about it?” You mom asked. You nodded silently.

You let out a sigh as you began to tell her,”Every single day I’m reminded of him, the sun reminds me of how he rubbed sun lotion on my back one time at the beach, or whenever I see that tree outside my window, it reminds me of all the times he sneak in my room-”

“He did what now?!” Your mom interrupted.

“Mom it’s not important, it’s not gonna happen again and besides that we never got intimate, we only would talk and cuddle.” You said, dismissing your mother’s thoughts from her head.

“So can you tell me why you're crying in your closet?” Your mom asked.

“I saw that,” you said as you pointed to the dress,”I wore that on my first date with Draco it brought up some memories.”

Your mom rubbed your back, “It seems like you're not over him.”

You let out a sad laugh,”I’m not and I hate it. I am still in love with him and it hurts knowing that even if we were still together, we wouldn’t last.”

“And why not?” Your mother asked.

You let out a sharp breath,”Isn’t it obvious?” You asked,”Society. Who would ever accept a Pure-blood Slytherin and a Half-Blood hufflepuff?”

“I accepted you both,” Your mother said.

“You had to, you're my mother. You're not today’s society! Today’s society is so uptight and ruthless, they’d ruin you in a moment’s time!” You exclaimed.

Your mother turned to look at you, she grabbed a hold of your shoulders and looked directly in your eyes. “Fuck Society.” She started, your eyes widened as you heard her swear, “Since when did you become one to listen to the rules? This society needs a challenge, you need to challenge them. You need to show them that you’re in charge, show what you want. Do what you want. Fuck Society, you are Y/N L/N, and you are in love and you won’t let anything get your way.” Your mom always had a way with pep talks.

You sniffed, your eyes couldn’t help but water at your mother’s words. “Thank you mom, I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

Your mom looked at you as if you grew two heads,”What do you mean ‘next time’?!”

“My next relationship, I knows it gonna take a while to get over Draco but when I do-”

“NUH UH!” Your mother interrupted you,”You are in love with Draco, you never stopped loving him! You are gonna go up to him and take what you want!”

“A large gallon of chocolate ice cream?” You joked. Your mom gave you an unamused look.

“Okay, Okay” You said,”I’ll tell him when we go back to Hogwarts.”

Your mom stood up,”No you don’t young lady, you going to tell him today.”

“What do you mean?” You asked as you got up from the carpeted flooring of your closet.

“You are gonna tell him today, at Diagon Alley.” Your mother replied.

“Mom, we don’t even know if he’d be there?” In the process of talking you had a thought that seemed so your mother,”Mom, don’t tell me you’ve been stalking the Malfoys”

Your mom laughed and you really thought she wasn’t stalking the Malfoys until she opened her mouth,”A great witch never tells her secrets.” And it was enough for you to facepalm. Your mother was much worse than a teenage fangirl stalking a celebrity they were so in love with.

“Now here’s the plan, you go get all dolled up as I finish up breakfast and go get something quickly.” She ordered. You nodded and went into your bathroom to take a shower as your mother went downstairs to finish up breakfast as well as gather her equipment. As you got out of the shower you quickly changed into a low-cut blue shirt paired with a pair of ripped jeans. You quickly braided your hair and put some makeup on to cover your eye bags.

You ran downstairs and found some scrambled eggs and bacon set in front of your seat, you quickly ate as your mother walked into the kitchen. “Careful there Y/N, we don’t want you to choke on it,” she warned before she opened up her mouth again,”That’s what she said.”

You snorted at your mother’s joke, she was something that you couldn’t explain. You quickly ate your breakfast and met your mother by the door. “You ready, hun?” Your mother asked. You nodded and you both arraparted at Diagon Alley. The place was packed full of people and you began to lose hope in finding him, your Draco.

“Mom, we’ll never find him with this many people here!” You complained. Your mom smiled wickedly before reaching into her purse before pulling out a sling-shot and a bag of small rocks. “Mom, what are you doing?” You asked. She held the sling-shot towards you. “I present to you, The Malfoy Finder 2000!” Your mom exclaimed as she put a rock and began to aim the slingshot at a blonde.

“Mom, no!” You hissed but it was too late, the rock was already flying towards the blonde, it hit them directly in the middle of the back of the head. They groaned in pain, “Nope, not a Malfoy.” She declared before aiming the slingshot towards another blonde and hit them in the back of the head as well. “My father will hear about this, whoever threw a rock at me!” He yelled.

“Found him!” Your mother chirped with a giddy grin as she turned to you,”Now go kiss your man, but no groping.”

You took a deep breath and jogged towards the love of your life, “Draco!” You called as you ran towards him. He turned to you and his mouth dropped. He looked rough, bags under his eyes, his cheeks were stained with the leftover trail of tears. You ran up to him and grabbed him by the collar of his expensive suit and pulled him into a passionate kiss.

“WOOOO! THAT’S MY GIRL!” Your mother cheered, causing you two to pull apart from your kiss. As pulled apart, you shot a glare towards your mother. She just shrugged and replied with,”What? Can a mother not fangirl?!” You laughed at her antics, you sure did love your mother.

“Y/N, I thought we were over.” Draco said, sadly.

“We were, but then I realized I was in love with you. I couldn’t give you up, you’re the best goddamn thing that has ever happened to me”, You started as your eyes started to brim with tears,”Everyday I was reminded of you, the sun, the tree outside of my window, and even the dress from our first date. I thought that if we’d split up, it’d be easier. But I was wrong. I broke up with you because I was scared of society, but my mother helped me realize that society is just one fucked up dick. I shouldn’t be afraid of what society thinks, I shouldn’t let society get to my head. What I’m trying to say is I’m sorry and I love you. I hope you can forgive me.”

You stood there for what seemed like hours as you waited for Draco to respond. “Draco?” You asked in a small voice, afraid of rejection. As you called out his name Draco came to his senses and smashed his lips against yours. Your mother had tears running down her face as she saw her baby girl kiss the man she loved.

Draco pulled away from the kiss and looked at you with his loving eyes as he whispered those 4 little words that made your heart soar, “I’ll love you forever, Y/N.”

.........

Requests are open

#draco x you #draco x y/n #draco fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #draco fic #draco x reader #draco malfoy

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secretshinigami · 3 years

Text

Tangle

Author: @hazblogs For: @beyondplusultra Pairings/Characters: Near/Mello/Matt Rating/Warnings: G Prompt: “mello with even longer hair, braided in some cool style” + “mello x matt x near college AU shenanigans (can be ship or gen)” Author’s notes: ok so you have no idea how hard i hand flapped when i saw your prompt - and then your name. aka i wrote a thing for you last sse which was a very very perfect companion piece for the one i’m gifting you rn. lots of love <333333333

————————

“Matt. Are you trying to tell me something ?” Mello asks.

“Me ? Communicating ? I’ll have you know that hasn’t happened since the great fire of the library of Alexandria. I was devastated and vowed to never speak again, which I would have fully respected had you not decided to spawn a few centuries later to torment me.”

Mello is tempted to chuck the pair of scissors to his face, but that would probably be dangerous. They are adorned with a little bow and a note that says “Put them to good use !” in tidy, loopy letters.

A snicker rises from the then-two-now-triple bed, a small white head emerging from under the blanket. “I see you’ve found my present.”

“Near, I’ll ask this once and once only: why in hell would you ever think I’d cut my hair ?”

They’ve been growing it out very, very patiently ! It took months ! After the incident and the fact that the hospital had to shave most of it off, adding to the fact there’s now a bald scar patch on the side of their head, Mello tried really really hard to gain a sense of… self-love ? Looking at their face in the mirror was never a chore before.

Feeling the wind blow through their now quite long hair had been amazing.

“It goes into my mouth when we sleep,” Near answers. “I’m tired of waking up and having to spit it all out.”

Mello has half a mind to tell him that if he doesn’t like it that much, he just has to not cuddle up to them in his sleep, but that’s unfair - and also unwanted. Mello quite likes waking up to Matt and Near snuggled up so close to them that they feel loved in a way only kids can feel, with their utmost certainty in the good of this world. It’s a nice warmth, spreading from their chest to their toes.

“Ugh. Fine, I’ll tie them up.”

“What ?” Matt almost yells from his place on the floor, a true cave troll. “I’ve been trying to make you do that for months and you always said you hated it ! And Near doesn’t even have to ask ? I haven’t lived that long to be disrespected in this way. I am appalled, I am betrayed, in my own home-”

“You don’t even go to this uni,” Mello usefully provides.

“Fiend. Rascal. I’m looking up hair braiding tutorials right this instant.”

“Oh, let me join,” Near asks, and soon enough, the two friends are completely ignoring Mello’s fuming, too busy looking at EveryDayHairInspiration videos on Youtube, her chipper voice filling the room with detailed instructions.

Nothing more comes of it. Or at least, that’s what Mello thinks, because they haven’t been jumped on and tied to a chair, where Matt’s deft fingers - and Near’s less deft fingers but keen memory - will wreak havoc on their admittedly finicky strands. They have thin, blond hair, though they know not who in their family passed on those genes. The woes of being adopted. It is almost impossible to comb, in spite of their best efforts and the KeraCare Hydrating Detangling Shampoo that Matt surreptitiously bought and sneaked into the bathroom, but that does not deter them.

Nor does the ever growing “Mello’s hair collection” that Matt keeps, like a creep, “So I can sell it when you become a best-selling author of course !” Mello thinks it’s for doll-making purposes, should he take offence to something they did and want to stab them in a more discreet fashion.

In any case, it’s been a few weeks when Mello comes back to the dorm room to find it in a state of upheaval it hasn’t known since Near arrived. There’s at least three cans of hairspray, a million and a half elastic ties of various shapes and sizes, and an office chair. Mello has been complaining about not having a chair to be able to work at the table, but Matt had always whined that it was “unnecessary, and would take up too much space”.

“Mels ! You’re here !” says the obvious culprit. “I borrowed Mikami’s chair, I hope he doesn’t mind.”

Incredible. The chair isn’t even going to stay !

“Will you come in ?” Near smiles, absolutely delighted at Mello’s crumpled features. “We’ve set up the hair salon.”

“Wow, you two have ambition,” they mock. Mello does feel a little bit of terror at the twin gleams in their eyes.

Near simply ushers them towards the seat, detangling lotion ready, and he begins applying ungodly amounts of it while Matt combs through their hair with vigour. It does feel quite nice, Mello muses, to be pampered like they’re worth it. The amount of sappiness can be felt in the air, the love pouring from their friends right onto them making them feel giddy.

“You okay, Mello ?”

They don’t even know who said it. They startle awake, wondering when they even started to doze off, and Matt laughs heartily at their dazed-out face.

“Oh my god, Mels, you look like you’re in heaven.”

“Mrrgh,” they muster the courage to say.

“Eloquent.”

“Shut up, Near…”

The energy isn’t quite there, though.

A few moments pass by while Near and Matt keep twisting their hair in weird ways, the tingling sensation on their scalp never nearing pain with how careful they are. And then-

“Ta-da !” Matt says, happy as can be.

“We did good work,” Near concurs. “Wait, I have a mirror.”

Mello sure hopes so. Truth be told, they’re quite curious to see what the other two managed to do. Matt makes them close their eyes, spinning the chair for good measure, and Near laughs airily in the background, hands flapping a little.

“Open your eyes !”

They do. At first, they almost don’t see it - their hair is gathered on their right side, as usual. But then they notice the subtle ways in which their hair glows under the light, a small black hair tie at the bottom keeping it together.

Somehow, they manage not to let those annoying tears flow.

“They like it !” Matt whoops.

Near relaxes - he seemed unsure of their reaction, but Matt knows how to read them perfectly, and he knows, he just knows. The force of habit.

The braid stays on for about two days. Mello keeps forgetting it’s there and running their fingers through their hair only to have them tangled in the braid, or turning too fast and flinging it in someone’s face. Near eventually undoes it when they whine about washing their hair, though it returns soon after. He cuddles closer now - Mello feels their heart jump each time they wake up to their two loves, if they can say the word, and they remember that moment throughout the day when they play with the twists.

#fanfiction #death note #submission #near #mello #matt #nearlymellodramattic #ratings: general #hazblogs #beyondplusultra #Near's Bday Finale 2k21

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Note

Consider yandere dollmaker. Coming into your room at night to cut off some of your hair to glue it to the doll of you. Stealing your clothes to put them on your replica. They spend hours making as many versions of you as they can. They even treat the dolls as your stand in, kissing and bathing the cold porcelain.

I went with a more direct route, for this, but I hope it’s still up to your standards. There’s nothing more fitting than a controlling Yandere treating their lovely little Darling like their own, personal doll, after all.

Title: Handcrafted.

TW: Implied Kidnapping, Bondage, Blood and Delusional Mindsets.

They expected you to get along with it.

That was the worst part, they expected you to like it.

The doll was well crafted, you’d give your captor that. Its eyes were unnerving, unblinking and always staring, but they’d been painted on with a certain degree of care, gifted with too much detail not to seem hauntingly life-like. You’d been forced to keep it company for weeks, by now, but there had never been a moment when its hair wasn’t perfectly styled, its outfit unwrinkled and every inch of its porcelain skin more immaculate than it’d been the day before. It looked like you, shared a hair color and a body shape and, at one point, a name, but it wasn’t you. It was heartless. Inhuman. An impostor that demanded your loathing.

It was wrong, and there was nothing you could do about it.

Not unless you wanted Drew to ensure you shared in its fate, too.

You couldn’t be sure how long they’d been gone. It felt like hours, it was probably hours, but there was no way of telling time, not in the concrete, windowless hell you’d found yourself a hostage of. You might’ve found a way to occupy yourself if you’d been able to, gone looking for something to pass the time, but a series of complicated knots and meters of rough, braided rope kept you bound to the same unforgiving antique chair, your wrists raw from struggling and your back sore from the upright position you were forced to maintain. The space was otherwise unoccupied, save for a table with a handful of abandoned teacups and another chair, this one housing your miniature doppelganger.

Sometimes, you had to wonder if Drew loved it more than they claimed to love you. It wasn’t that you were neglected, no, that would’ve been much more tolerable than the eager treatment you actually received, but you were a living creature that had to be sustained. It was not, but Drew showered it in the same love and attention they showed to you. If anything, they were more careful with their oh-so-beloved doll, considering the bruises around your neck they hadn’t felt the need to mirror on your supposed twin.

You didn’t have much time to linger on the subject, a metal-plated door on the far wall swinging open, scraping against the barren floor as it did so. Automatically, you bowed your head, staring down into your lap as quick, soft footsteps began to approach, accompanied by an incomprehensible greeting and a sudden presence behind you, their entry only made more undeniable by the pair of lean arms abruptly wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you back and allowing them to better melt into the crook of your neck. “I missed you,” Drew sighed, their voice much calmer than it’d been a moment or two ago. It wasn’t surprising, they’d always been one for theatrics. “I’m sorry, I’ve been in the workshop all day. I should’ve been more attentive… you’re not mad at me, are you?”

You knew what you were supposed to say. They never failed to ask after your comfort, but you’d learned not to complain, not if your suffering was any fault of theirs. They said they didn’t care for ‘negativity’, and you’d been locked in your room long enough to testify to that. “I’m not.”

There was a giggle, light and airy, a playful squeeze to your bicep, and without further probing, they began to undo your restraints, starting with those keeping your arms pinned down. Your fingertips were far past numb, but you did your best to move them, to curl your fists and drive your nails into the ancient, splintering wood. The idea of freedom did little to inspire hope, though. Your prison was a maze, made up of too many locked doors and never-ending hallways to ever escape without a proper guide. If Drew trusted you with the smallest bit of liberty, it only meant they intended to take you to another holding cell. It hadn’t taken you long to learn that most rooms you were allowed to see were equally unpleasant, if not worse than the one you’d just left.

If Drew noticed your dread, they didn’t feel the need to indulge it. Rather, a thin, careless smile was pressed against your knuckles as they moved around you, undoing the last of what held your left arm in place. You didn’t waste any time pulling away from the gesture, tucking your hand between your thighs as they started on your ankles. “You must be exhausted, I know how hard it is to wait around for me. We’ll get you a bath, and then you’ll be free to get to bed. That sounds nice, right?”

“I’d really rather just go to bed,” You mumbled, the request barely loud enough to be heard. Bed meant sleeping, and sleeping meant you wouldn’t have to look at that thing for another eight hours. “I’m tired, Drew.”

There was a beat of silence. Another laugh, and another kiss, this one to the top of your knee. “It’s part of our routine, dear. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I just--”

“It’s part of our routine.” They were still smiling, but it was tense, now, as forced as it always was when you looked too closely. Instantly, you moved to take it back, pushing your shoulders forward as you opened your mouth, but Drew was already drawing attention to themself, leaning onto your legs and focusing those unwavering black eyes on you, for the first time since their initial entrance. “I’m trying to take care of you. It’d be easier if you cooperate, but if you’re going to be difficult…” They paused, taking a deep breath and throwing a glance somewhere over their shoulder. When they continued, their tone was infinitely less jovial, a subtle change that worried you more than any form of discipline they could’ve ever dulled out. “At least your friend knows how to behave--”

“Your doll is not my ‘friend’,” You spat, cutting them off without hesitation. For whatever reason, the reference of their thing, their abomination, their monster was what pushed you over the edge, your hatred for Drew and their little hobby boiling over before you could contain it. It was irrational, the worst thing you could do for yourself in a situation like this, and yet, as soon as you caught a glimpse of the atrocity sitting across from you… It was all you could do to keep yourself from lashing out physically. Containing yourself on a verbal level wasn’t an option. “It’s… it’s barely even me. I don’t know what kind of fucked-up fixation you have on that toy, but don’t make me a part of it. If it were up to me, I would’ve burnt it as soon as I--”

“That’s enough.” Their command wasn’t particularly loud, the words growled through grit teeth, but the long, pointed fingernails suddenly being driven into the flesh of your thighs was enough to make their point, tearing through skin swiftly and driving into unprotected meat, only stopping when hot, dark blood started to flow from the open wounds, Drew wincing in disgust before pulling away. Still, they didn’t make any move to wipe away the offending subsense, only narrowing their eyes at the open wounds as you did your best not to make a sound. “You’re an unruly, petulant brat. I want to be gentle, and I want you to be happy, but if you’re going to throw a tantrum and insult something I worked so hard to make for you… I don’t know if I can endure that kind of behavior, darling.”

You apologized. You apologized, and told them how generous they were and your damnedest to make it seem like you’d learned your lesson with a minimal amount of pain, but Drew only shook their head, sighing as they moved to stand.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” They said, retrieving their doll and holding it with so much care, you could almost pretend it wasn’t your blood staining its clothes.

Almost.

“Clearly, there’s someone you need to spend a little more quality time with.”

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chelsfic · 4 years

Text

Five Times Nandor Tried and Failed to Make a New Vampire, and One Time He Succeeded - Guillermo x Nandor fic (one-shot)

WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: Journey into Nandor’s past and discover the real reason he’s been so hesitant to turn Guillermo all these years...

A/N: I hope you enjoy this small offering!! If you like and comment that would make me a very happy little writer creature.

Warnings: Crack, Fluff, Smut, mentions of concubines in Nandor’s human past, Blood drinking...obviously

---

“Truth be told, I’m not feeling my usual plucky, intrepid self.”

Nandor bares his fangs in a nervous smile. He’s sitting stiffly on the chaise in his crypt, fiddling with his rings as the documentary people question him about tonight’s...big event.

The vampire lifts his eyes to the ceiling and exhales before continuing, “It’s just--and I don’t like talking about this, but Guillermo says I need to work on expressing my...feelings--it’s just that in the past I might not always have been... entirely successful in making new vampires.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence during which Nandor casually picks at some lint on his sleeve.

“I mean, there was my nineteenth wife…”

---

Andrakis

Nandor languished in the empty halls of his palace for a week after his thirty-seven wives left. But at a certain point there comes a time to stop moping and start acting. Plus he’d eaten all of the servants and he was a little alarmed by the crowd of peasants outside armed with pitchforks and torches.

So, his new vampiric form was a little problematic. He was now homeless, wifeless and--worst of all--horseless. Driven from his land, Nandor was forced to take refuge from the lethal light of day in whatever haphazard way he could. He snuck into wine cellars. He broke into catacombs. And, most shamefully, he even buried himself in the earth when no other shelter was available. But at least his new state gave him the means to solve one of his problems.

There was no reason that Nandor should have to walk the night alone. He thought he remembered enough of what transpired on the battlefield to be able to turn someone else into a vampire. And as soon as the thought occurred to him he knew there was only one person with whom he wished to share this cursed gift.

Andrakis . His favorite wife. She was sweet and young, with a magnificent ample backside that Nandor loved to squeeze and slap. She had not yet bore him any children but perhaps that was for the best. No messy loose ends for her to leave behind. He knew she would agree for she, alone among his wives, had wept sorrowfully as they rode away.

Nandor used his new vampiric senses to find her. It took months, but eventually he tracked her back to her family home along the Euphrates. He walked through lands scorched and ruined by his own army and he thought about the first time he laid eyes on Andrakis. As he recalled, the town was on fire and his men were pillaging the wealthy houses for gold and jewels. They were also rounding up the attractive, young citizens for...reasons. Nandor took one look at his sweet Andrakis and said, “No! That one is for me and me only!”

So romantic.

He could have kept her as his concubine, but Nandor was infatuated with her sweet, soft spoken ways and her delicious round thighs. He gave her jewels and furs and when he finally returned from the campaign he made her one of his wives. All Nandor’s wives loved him, of course, because if they didn’t he would have their heads chopped off. But it was different with Andrakis. She seemed to truly care. She fretted when he went into battle, insisting that she be the one to help him don his armor. She cried real tears and begged him to be safe and return to her. It really moved him. Also, again, she had a fantastic ass.

The night he, at last, found her, Nandor floated up to her window, scratching at the wooden shutters and calling to her softly.

“My sweet Andrakis! It is I, your husband, Nandor the Relentless! I’ve come to assert my claim on you, cherished one! Do you...want to, maybe, come to the window now and let me inside?”

With his heightened abilities, he could hear her soft gasp and the rustle of fabric as she pushed back her bed coverings and slowly approached the window. Nandor heard her heart racing, the thundering gush of blood flowing through her veins and her trembling breath. He opened his mouth and his eyes rolled back with pleasure as he caught the smell of her blood just on the other side of those thin planks of wood.

“Time to open up, sweet one!” Nandor singsonged, placing his hand on the shutter as if he could reach through and grab her.

“Is it really you, my husband?” Her voice was as soft and sweet as he remembered.

“It is really, really me, Andrakis!”

She unlatched the window and Nandor beamed at the sight of her pretty, round face. That may have been a mistake--he kept forgetting about the fangs--the poor woman took a quick step back and brought her hands to her chest in shock.

“Oh, my Nandi! What has happened to you?” her eyes widened and she took a cautious step toward the window, peeking out over the sill, “You are flying, dear one!”

“Isn’t it great?!” Nandor laughed, kicking his legs out merrily and doing a little twirl. “I thought you might want to join me. You know...with the flying and the eternal life and the--ehm--blood drinking.”

She started to shake her head before he even finished and Nandor’s smile faltered. He rushed back to the window sill and placed his hands there, just on the outside edge of the invisible barrier protecting the home’s occupants.

“Andrakis...I am so lonely. And...and there is no one to help me with my armor or give me a massage when my head hurts. I think you liked being my wife, didn’t you?”

The woman’s eyes flood with tears and she comes even closer, leaning onto the window sill and reaching out a shaking hand to press against his bearded cheek.

“I love you, Nandi! And I am honored to be your wife, always. I will not take another husband, but… Nandor, I am frightened!”

“My honey,” Nandor crooned, laying his forehead against hers as she leaned out the window, “There is nothing to fear. I will protect you forever if you will stay by side.”

---

“...and then I ate her.”

Nandor held his hands out and shrugged his shoulders, “What are you going to do? These things happen, right? No! I was very upset about it for the next eighty years or so. She trusted me to take care of her and I fucking ate her!”

Nandor stares into space for a long moment. He’s had eight centuries to get over the loss of his favorite wife so it’s not grief that shows on his pinched face. It looks more like apprehension and self-doubt. The crew asks a muffled question and he starts as if they’ve woken him from a daydream.

“No...no I do not think I would ever recover if I were to lose control with my Guillermo,” his hands clench into fists on his knees. “I will not lose control.”

There’s more silence and one of the crew members suggests cutting the interview when Nandor continues as if he hasn’t heard them, “Guillermo is strong. He’s a cool, vampire killer guy now. He will be alright. He...he has to be alright.”

---

“Nadja?” Nandor stands at the threshold to her and Laszlo’s crypt, anxiously plucking his fingers in the air. “May I speak with you about something in private? In the fancy room?”

Nadja is braiding her dolly’s hair. There’s something really creepy about that thing that Nandor can’t quite put his finger on. Like it’s always watching him. Yeesh . Nadja rolls her eyes and snaps, “Can’t we talk in here? I’m going to tell Laszlo whatever pig-brained scheme you’re wanting to talk about anyway…”

Nandor glances at Laszlo, hunched over and diddling the keys of his organ with a shit-eating grin, “That’s true, old chap. There are no secrets between me and my sweet mamtam…”

Laszlo winks smarmily and Nandor rolls his eyes, “Please, Nadja! It is just a formality!”

She shrieks in aggravation, accidentally yanking the doll’s hair and then cooing apologetically at the thing. Nandor grimaces uncomfortably.

“Fine, you stupid ostrich. But this better be quick!”

Once he’s properly secured the curtain and made sure to check for eavesdroppers, Nandor lays it out for Nadja. He speaks haltingly and without meeting her eyes.

“So...you see, now that Guillermo and I are...are...more than master and familiar, I am wanting to make him a vampire. But you may have noticed that my past attempts in this area have been a little shaky…”

“Shaky! I think you mean totally fucked up the rotten asshole! Don’t forget you told me all about Babsy the Brainscrambled!”

---

Babaius

Babaius was a little guy he met a couple hundred years after the whole thing with Andrakis. He was a Wallachian painter’s apprentice and he had agreed to do a gratis portrait of Nandor for the practice. The portrait was flat and middling, but what did you want? It was the 16th century and the cool Renaissance shit hadn’t exactly reached the backwoods of Eastern Europe quite yet. More important was the fact that this cute painter guy had managed to ingratiate himself with the apex predator he had unwittingly invited into his home.

Originally, Nandor’s plan was to kill him once the portrait was complete. But the longer he sat there, staring back at the man as he worked with that cute little half-smirk on his face, the longer Nandor had to appreciate his form. Babaius was not as curvy and sensuous as Andrakis. He was taller and leaner. But his lips were pleasantly plump and his fingers long and elegant. Again, Nandor felt the weight of eternal loneliness and he began to wonder.

This time he made sure to feed beforehand. When he arrived at the human’s rooms he found him looking more excited than Nandor had ever seen him.

“It’s complete!” he gushed, grabbing Nandor’s hand and pulling him over to the easel. “Come see!”

Nandor stared at the clumsy, dour-faced rendering of himself and smiled politely. Is this really what I look like? Why is my head so small?

He felt the weight of Babaius’s hopeful eyes on him and schooled his voice into false praise, “Wow! It’s...so...wow! You sure used a lot of...orange on my face, didn’t you? Bold choice…”

“I’m so pleased that you like it, Nandor,” the human’s voice was slightly breathless and he looked up through his lashes coquettishly. Ah ha!

“Yes, well, now that that’s done…” Nandor swept Babaius’s long hair off his shoulder and plucked at the collar of his thin shirt. “Perhaps we could discuss other things…”

“ Oh, yes! ” Babaius trilled, launching himself into Nandor’s arms and frantically dropping kisses on his neck, chin and jaw. “I thought ...but I wasn’t certain… but yes, Nandor! Yes!”

Nandor wrapped his arms around the man’s back and laughed a little at just how easy this was going to be. No mistakes this time. He was completely and totally in control.

---

“Alright, Najda! I get it! I know you have to give them more than just one drop of blood now, okay?”

Nadja nods somberly, “That poor man. Could not even remember his own name after you turned him. What happened to him again?”

“I ripped off his head,” Nandor snaps, sinking into the couch cushions in a sulk. “It was the humane thing to do.”

Nadja squints her eyes trying to remember something, “But wasn’t there someone else after…?”

Nandor’s lips thin into a narrow line and he crosses his arms over his chest with a huff of annoyance, “I suppose you mean Aggy the Shrieker?”

---

Agnes

Agnes was something called a Quaker, which meant that she did not go about wearing a crucifix. She was also highly susceptible to hypnosis. Nandor didn’t think this had anything to do with her Quaking, it was just a nice bonus. She’d served him well for a number of years, procuring a very fine assortment of virgins for him night after night. The good lady was entirely ignorant to the fact that it was she who drew these young innocents to their doom. Nandor erased her memories each time before sending her away. She would hem and cluck along with the other Friends when news of a disappearance reached her ears.

After a few decades, Nandor noticed that her face was starting to turn wrinkly and her movements were not as swift as they once were. The prospect of finding another familiar with a brain as soft and accepting as Agnes’s was a wearying thought. Enough so that he considered, once again, trying his hand at creating a new vampire.

This time it was a sure thing. Agnes appeared at his doorstep that night, like always. At her side was a fresh-faced boy whose blood positively shouted his innocence. Delicious . Nandor would feed first. Then he would just do a quick refresher of Agnes’s hypnosis so that the poor lady did not have a fright once she saw Nandor’s blood stained face. And then a quick nip and plenty of blood. Voila! A new wrinkly-faced vampire baby is born.

The plan was faultless.

---

“And no hypnosis! Alright. Seems nit-picky, but fine!” Nandor grumbles. He seems suddenly to remember that Nadja is helping him and his voice softens, “ Please, Nadja . No more walking on memory street. Just tell me what to do so that I do not hurt Guillermo. I cannot stand the thought of him becoming a shrieker .”

“Nandor, you beautiful giant baby,” Nadja’s face gentles into genuine sympathy. “I’m going to tell you just what to do. Even you won’t be able to mess this up.”

And she does. She tells him how to listen to his human’s heart and count the seconds in between beats, waiting until just the right moment to finish drinking. She advises him to prepare his blood ahead of time, decanting it into a vial or mug. He should not count on Guillermo being conscious enough to suckle from his wrist as he’d originally intended. Pour the blood down his throat if he has to. Once he drinks the blood the transition will begin, but Nandor’s work is not done. He must procure for his new vampire the most succulent of virgin feasts. He must care for him during the sickness. He must watch over him and make sure that the baby vampire does not do anything silly like run out into the sunlight or drink a gallon of holy water.

“You must be resolved and sure in your actions!” Nadja finally says, casting a skeptical glance at the immortal warrior. “You think you can handle all that?”

Nandor sits there looking shell shocked for a moment before twitching his mouth into a forced smile and holding up two thumbs.

“OK-A!”

---

On his way back to his crypt Nandor glances into the camera and leans in conspiratorially.

“She does not even know about Roger the Rocker or Benjy…” he whispers, his lips folding into an embarrassed frown.

---

Roger

During the 1970s Nandor went through a brief but intense love affair with punk rock. Disco would soon supplant the vampire’s fixation on studded leather and the Sex Pistols, but for a few fleeting years he was, truly, insufferable.

“ Fucking goats’ balls ! Nandor! We are trying to have a blood feast in here! Will you turn off that unholy screeching!?” Nadja shouted, blood dripping down her chin as she drew back from the pathetically mewling woman sandwiched between herself and her husband.

Laszlo reared back with a lecherous grin on his bloody lips, “Did I hear you mention something about unholy screeching, my sweet dimplebottom?”

“ Oh, Laszlo! ” Nadja giggled, leaning over the dying victim to latch onto her lover’s mouth.

Nandor slammed the door to his crypt and rolled his eyes, “Don’t mind them, Roger. They’re just a couple of sell-out perverts who don’t understand ay-narchy and non-conformationism.”

Roger was a young human man with spiked green hair and a studded leather vest. He was the coolest familiar Nandor had ever had. He was also an alcoholic and a heavy drug user and half the time he didn’t even do what Nandor asked of him. But once he explained about “the man” and toppling “the system”...well, Nandor still didn’t get it but he was impressed! He felt that Roger would bring a certain rebellious youth to their cohort that might give them a cutting edge in these modern times.

The problem was that Nandor had never tried drug blood before. It didn’t hit him until Roger was half-drained but then the world spun off its axis. Nandor ripped his face away from Roger’s savaged neck, stumbling backward and falling down hard on his ass. The vampire exploded into a fit of giggles as the familiar twitched limply on the floor beside him.

“Roger! I am ball tripping!” Nandor laughed, turning his head to look at his friend, “Whoopsie! Almost forgot! Time for a little drinky, Roger…”

Nandor tore into his own wrist, ripping a jagged wound open with his fangs and smearing the gore over Roger’s lips and chin.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” Nandor cackled, falling back down and letting his wrist fall limp against the human’s mouth. He started singing softly under his breath, “Ayyyynarchy and the U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!”

In the end Nandor was so high he went to his slumber completely forgetting about the moaning, half-turned man on the floor of his crypt. He woke the next night to find Roger wandering around the front lawn, sun-burned and hideously deformed. He also had no memory of who Nandor was or anything at all about his human life.

Nandor wouldn’t see him again until decades later when he caught the skeevy creep trying to take a bite out of Guillermo at the Sassy Cat Club. Nandor was so spooked to see the evidence of his past failure standing next to his most cherished human companion that he...perhaps handled the incident in a less-than-totally-gallant manner.

---

Benjy

Benjy...to be honest, Nandor isn’t entirely sure what came of the old clunker. He turned him and dumped him. Maybe not his finest moment but...Nandor had other things on his mind at the time…

---

Guillermo

The moment that Guillermo flew to their rescue at the Nouveau Théâtre des Vampires, Nandor felt something shift inside his chest. It was an actual physical sensation like a key turning in a lock. How many years had he spent building moats, walls and fortresses between himself and his handsome, caring, devoted, achingly good familiar in order to protect his sweet innocence from the poison that was Nandor the Relentless? And all along he’d been underestimating him! Nandor watched Guillermo twirl, kick, punch and stake his way through a theater full of angry vampires. In the end he stood alone on a mountain of conquered enemies, covered in blood and heaving with the adrenaline of battle.

Nandor had never been more aroused.

He was silent and brooding on the drive home. He sat in the passenger seat and kept flicking his eyes in Guillermo’s direction, hoping to catch his gaze. But his ex-familiar kept his eyes fixed on the road, his face a storm cloud of some scary-looking emotion that Nandor couldn’t name. The vampire felt unease crawl up his spine. Was he planning to leave again as soon as he dropped them off at the house?

Nandor cringed in embarrassment as he watched the look of disappointment cross Guillermo’s features at the sight of the wrecked foyer. Dead bodies littered the floor, candle wax and blood stained every surface. He was overcome with shame and humiliation that they had made such a mess of the home Guillermo had toiled to maintain for eleven years.

Guillermo stood awkwardly in the front doorway, not quite inside and not quite outside, hovering on the threshold of their home. It was their home , wasn’t it? Nandor’s eyes flicked to the sad, dirty mattress in the cupboard beneath the stairs and he silently cursed himself. It’s possible he may not have made this quite a happy home for Guillermo.

“I’ll just...go now…” Guillermo’s voice was soft and uncertain again, as if he hadn’t just committed a bad ass massacre.

“No!” the word strangled from Nandor’s throat and he lurched forward, raising his hand to stop the human. For a split second he was completely unguarded and the raw desperation in his voice and on his face froze Guillermo in his tracks. Then Nandor’s eyes shifted to his fellow vampires, feeling the weight of their stares and he continued in a closer approximation to his usual haughty authority, “I would speak with you a moment. In private.”

Once the door to his crypt clicked shut Nandor rounded on Guillermo, taking him by the shoulders and pressing him into the heavy wooden door. He loomed over the human for a moment, fangs bared, breathing raggedly as he scented him. Guillermo’s intoxicating, virginal aroma was mixed with the tang of his enemies’ blood. The irresistible fragrance threatened to overcome the vampire and he let out a pitiful mewling cry as he pressed even closer. Nandor’s forehead thunked against the door and his body was flush with Guillermo’s. Now he would know . The hard, bulging evidence of Nandor’s arousal was pressed into the human’s soft thigh-- unmistakable . Nandor keened a sob and his body went boneless as he fell to his knees in supplication before the human.

“Guillermo, please!” Nandor sobbed.

Guillermo stood as if paralyzed, staring back at his former master with shocked, wide eyes. Nandor felt broken, like one of those colorful donkeys split open and pouring out his guts. He did not exactly know what it was he wanted. Everything about this moment was highly uncomfortable. For one thing, the floor was very hard and hurty on his knees. For another thing, his erection was straining painfully in his pants. Also, he was realizing for the first time in his long, long life that there existed a person whom Nandor loved more than himself. And he was desperately, mortally afraid that Guillermo would leave him again.

“What is it, master?” Guillermo flinched at the slip up but he pressed on, his eyes burning with earnest intensity. “What do you want?”

Nandor had known the answer to this question for eleven years. He knew it the first time he laid eyes on the sweet, plump mortal working the panini press at Panera Bread. He knew it the first time Guillermo graced him with his smile after Nandor showed him his fangs. He knew it when Guillermo came to live with them, hauling his rolly luggage case up the front steps and shaking with nerves and excitement. He knew it when he spent hours crafting his familiar’s sweet face from glitter. He knew it when Guillermo cried, silently begging Nandor to give him a reason to stay. He’d known it in a thousand different ways for a thousand different reasons and he’d keep knowing it for a thousand years, long after the flicker of Guillermo’s short human life extinguished.

“You,” Nandor’s voice was a broken whisper. “I want you, Guillermo.”

The air expelled from Guillermo’s lungs in a shaky gasp as he fell to his knees as well. He took the vampire’s face in his warm little hands and Nandor had to remind himself that those were hands capable of plunging a wooden stake through his heart. The very thought sent another wave of lust through him.

Guillermo’s lips trembled and his eyes flooded with tears as he spoke, “If you’re just saying that to manipulate me…”

Nandor grabbed Guillermo’s wrists, circling them with his long fingers, keeping him from removing his hands from Nandor’s face.

“No, Guillermo. I--I have not been a good master to you…” Nandor gulped, fighting years of careful control in order to get the words out. “I’ve lied to you many, many times. Made you think that you were just a servant to me. I thought that I was protecting us both. But...really I was hurting you. When you left me I...I…”

Nandor’s voice trailed off and Guillermo allowed it, not wanting to push his fragile vampire too far.

“If we’re going to do this, I need to know. I need to know what exactly you want from me, Nandor. Because I know what I want. I’ve known for eleven... fucking years,” Guillermo’s voice hardens toward the end and Nandor feels himself go weak. His little Guillermo...so forceful and strong!

Suddenly the human was leaning in and brushing his lips over Nandor’s. It was the barest, gentlest hint of a kiss but it felt like a live wire touching his skin. Nandor’s eyes drifted closed and he saw stars as Guillermo pushed his tongue between his lips and plundered his mouth. Oh, why had he forced them to wait so long for this?

Guillermo pulled back, the combination of his blushing cheeks and the splatter of blood along his jaw was a powerful image. Nandor whined, following Guillermo’s movement and pecking kisses to the man’s mouth.

“Nandor, wait! Stop!” There was mirth in Guillermo’s eyes but a fragile uncertainty as well. “I need you to tell me this is what you want. That I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and find you pretending this never happened. Things have to change if we’re...if we’re going to do this.”

Nandor nodded frantically, pawing at his human’s face as unmanly tears spilled from his eyes and rolled into the whiskers of his beard.

“Yes! Please! I want this. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You’re brave and strong and cool and beautiful and I lo--” Nandor’s mouth snapped shut and his dark eyes widened in fear at the words that almost slipped out. But when he took in his human’s guarded yet hopeful expression he growled and forced them out. “I love you, Guillermo.”

Guillermo choked on a sob and his face crumbled rather alarmingly.

“I love you so fucking much you stupid asshole,” he replied.

Nandor scowled, “Hey! There’s no need for all that!”

But before he could work himself up to being truly affronted, Guillermo launched himself at him, knocking Nandor over backwards and attacking his face with his mouth.

“Things are going to change,” Guillermo repeated between open-mouthed kisses along Nandor’s bearded jaw.

“Yes!”

“I’m not gonna dig graves for you anymore or polish your boots!”

“...Alright.”

“And,” Guillermo ripped open the fly of Nandor’s trousers, eliciting a delighted howl from the vampire, “you’re going to make me a vampire.”

---

“So tonight is the night!” Nandor injects false levity into his voice as he strides down the hallway carrying a stack of towels on one arm. The camera shakes as the crew follows behind him.

“I’ve made all of the arrangements! We have a juicy virgin in the cell…”

The camera peaks into a dimly lit closet where a young man is bound and gagged. Across his forehead giant block letters spell out: “DO NOT EAT! GUILLERMO’S VIRGIN FEAST!”

“I’ve decanted plenty of my blood…”

Nandor holds up a mason jar filled with thick, dark crimson liquid as he mounts the stairs.

“I’ve got the towels and Guillermo has a first aid box ready…”

He finally arrives at the door to the big, blue bedroom and turns around to face the camera with an apologetic smile.

“ Vampires only! ” He slams the door in their faces.

Once the door closes behind him Nandor lets out a long breath and his head falls back to hit the wood with a loud thunk. He lets the facade drop for just a second and the cloying anxiety and terror of what he is about to do rises to the surface. Then Guillermo looks up at him from where he’s sitting up on his big new bed and Nandor forces a cheery smile.

“Who’s ready for their unholy transformation?!” he warbles, shaking the jar of blood in his hand.

Guillermo grins, coming over to stand before him in all his warm, soft, human grandeur. Nandor drops his head and plucks at the sleeve of his ex-familiar’s thick, stripy sweater. He hopes that Guillermo will not think himself too cool to wear such garments once he is a vampire. He’s grown to love Guillermo’s simple human clothes.

“Nandor…” Guillermo takes the jar and the towels from him, setting them down on his bureau next to the collection of wooden stakes and crucifixes. “You don’t have to pretend. I’m scared too.”

The vampire lets out a breath and tugs his human into his chest, wrapping him in a fierce, suffocating hug. He lets his cheek rest on top of Guillermo’s dear head. Guillermo clings to the front of Nandor’s long tunic, pressing his face into the rich, embroidered fabric and wetting it with his tears.

“It’ll be okay,” Guillermo comforts Nandor, his voice trembling with emotion. In the short weeks since the incident at the theater and since their relationship took such a sharp turn in the right direction, Guillermo has been shocked and pleasantly surprised to find how dramatically the dynamic between them has changed. Guillermo isn’t just Nandor’s equal now. He’s his touchstone, his protector, and his deeply cherished lover.

“You don’t know that, Guillermo,” Nandor sniffles. “What if I brainscramble you like I did to Ba...Baba...Bambie?”

“Babaius?” Guillermo prompts, pulling back from the embrace enough to lock eyes with the weepy vampire. Nandor has told him his whole sorry history of failures and abominations. It was Guillermo’s idea for Nandor to seek out Nadja’s guidance. And though he’s nervous and frightened about his transition...there is no one else in the world from whom Guillermo would accept this gift. “You won’t scramble my brains, Nandor. I trust you.”

The soft cry that Nandor makes at those words cuts to Guillermo’s soul.

Nandor sniffs and attempts to pull himself back together. He speaks confidently, as if his words are an incantation that will somehow conjure success, “Well, of course you trust me, Guillermo. I’m a very strong, cool vampire. There’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to make another vampire when a freaky pervert like Nadja is doing it all over the place.”

Guillermo snorts and pulls Nandor in for another quick squeeze before drawing away toward the bed, “Should we…?”

“Yes...oh! Wait!” Nandor grabs the towels off the bureau, hissing when he accidentally grazes a crucifix with his hand. He hurries forward and starts laying them down on top of Guillermo’s thick comforter. “I don’t want your nice, new bed to get ruined.”

Guillermo smiles warmly as he watches his ex-master’s efforts.

“Well...it’s not like I’ll be sleeping on it anymore after tonight…” he murmurs, causing Nandor to think about the shiny new coffin sitting next to his downstairs.

Nandor shrugs, “No...but we might--you know--do other things on the bed still…”

He smooths his hands over the towels and retrieves the jaw of blood, placing it within easy reach on the nightstand before climbing onto the bed and stretching out in an unintentional come-hither pose. Nandor’s soft, long locks fall over his shoulders and his big, dark eyes look up at Guillermo with longing and terror. He pats the spot beside him on the bed.

Guillermo clambors up after him, stretching out at his side and letting his head fall into the mountain of pillows that Nandor had insisted on purchasing for him after their...reconciliation. He smiles shyly and looks up at the vampire, his cheeks turning bright red.

“Is it alright if we...do some of those ‘ other things ’ first?” he asks, dancing his fingers over Nandor’s tunic. “You know...my last time as a h-human?”

The stutter in Guillermo’s voice interrupts Nandor’s contented perusal of his human’s delicious body and he meets the man’s eyes. Guillermo’s cheeks are irresistibly red and his lips are parted slightly with lust. But his eyebrows are all crinkled and there are still some tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Nandor can’t really relate to Guillermo’s fear. When he was turned he was in the middle of dying on the field of battle. He didn’t have a clue what was happening when the strange vampire descended upon him. What would it feel like to go into it knowingly? To place his life in the hands of the one that he loved knowing there was a chance that things might go terribly wrong?

Guillermo is incredibly brave.

“Yes, my Guillermo,” Nandor cries, leaning in and pressing their mouths together in a desperate kiss. “Anything you want.”

They take their time with the kiss, lips and tongues sliding and probing as they clumsily undress each other. By the time they’re both naked the floor of Guillermo’s bedroom is littered with discarded items of clothing and the towels on the bed are askew. Guillermo throws his leg over Nandor’s thick waist and straddles the man, their aching erections rubbing together as he leans down to trail kisses across Nandor’s hairy chest.

Nandor throws his head back in the pillows, his hair tangling as he writhes underneath Guillermo. He will miss the feeling of his human’s impossible warmth. The way his kisses seem to sear a blazing path over Nandor’s cold skin. The way his silky smooth rod pulses with molten heat. The feeling of plunging inside Guillermo’s fiery, grasping tightness. Nandor curses himself, yet again, for not allowing them both to have this sooner.

Guillermo’s hips rise and fall as he strokes himself against Nandor. The air between them grows humid with their breath and the room fills with the sounds of whimpers and moans. Guillermo places a hand on Nandor’s chest for balance and he leans over to his nightstand to grab the small bottle of lube sitting there.

He holds it aloft and says, as if reading Nandor’s mind, “Do you want to feel me one last time before…?”

Nandor’s lips split into a grin and he grabs the tube from his human’s hand, nodding fervently as he drips the liquid onto his fingers. He’s careful and gentle with his Guillermo, mindful of how new this still is for him. He reaches between his delicious thighs and slides his wet fingers around until he finds what he’s looking for, pressing gently and then more firmly as Guillermo opens up for him.

Guillermo’s breath escapes him and he presses down on Nandor’s fingers with a wanton cry, riding him needily. Once he’s ready, Nandor pours out more liquid, slicking his cock and grasping Guillermo’s hips to move him into position.

“Are you ready, Guillermo?” he asks and the words take on an added meaning with the knowledge of what’s to come hovering in the air between them.

Guillermo senses Nandor’s seriousness in the moment and he meets his eyes, smiling softly before replying, “Yes, Nandor. I’m ready. Really .”

The sex is a revelation and a comfort. Falling into Guillermo is like coming home. It’s like finally finding the place he was always meant to be. Even 700 years ago when Nandor was a ruler in his prime, he never felt this level of peace and belonging. He watches his beautiful, strong, brave human fall apart on top of him. They take turns setting the pace. Guillermo bounces frantically in Nandor’s lap until the vampire grabs his hips and holds him still so he can thrust upward, slowly and tenderly. He penetrates deep until Guillermo is near tears and the human’s poor erection is leaking copiously onto Nandor’s soft belly.

Nandor finally releases his hold on Guillermo’s hips and wraps his hand around his erection, pumping up and down quickly as he bounces the man on his own cock.

“I’m close, Guillermo,” he whispers, stroking the human rapidly to edge him along. “Come with me. Please!”

They fall over the precipice together, panting and clinging as their bodies quake with the intensity of their love making. Guillermo collapses on Nandor’s chest and the vampire wraps his arms around him automatically, soothingly running his palms down his lover’s sweaty back as he twitches and catches his breath.

“You’re getting very good at that, Guillermo,” Nandor murmurs with a hint of teasing in his voice.

Guillermo snorts, “Yeah, I think you’ve almost got the hang of it, too, Nandor.”

Nandor laughs and smacks his behind playfully, “Do not be thinking that just because you’re going to be a vampire you can start being so cheeky with me! I’m still seven hundred and twenty-eight years older than you, mortal.”

Guillermo grins and hums in response, pillowing his head into Nandor’s broad chest with a contented sigh.

After a little while, Nandor shifts Guillermo off of him and lays him down on the bed with a gentle reverence. He picks up one of the towels and uses it to carefully clean him, dabbing between his legs and swiping over his soft stomach. Nandor takes his time, his face turning dark and serious as he contemplates what comes next.

When he’s finally finished he says, almost shyly, “There’s just one more thing I want to do first…”

Nandor stretches out at Guillermo’s side and rests his head over the human’s chest, directly over his beating heart. His hair fans out over Guillermo’s flushed skin and the human brings his fingers up to toy with it as Nandor listens.

Thump...thump...thump…

How many nights has Nandor awoken in his coffin, still gripped by the horror of a half-remembered nightmare and listened for that comforting sound to lull him back to sleep? How often has he heard that steady rhythm interrupted when Nandor did something that particularly stirred his familiar’s illicit attraction? How many thousands of beats has he taken for granted over the years? Soon that steady tattoo will cease forever. Nandor feels panic grip him but he reminds himself that things will be different this time. Guillermo will come back to him as he always does.

He does not feel ready but the hours are ticking away and he’d like to finish this well before dawn. Nandor shuffles up the bed, leaning on an elbow and letting his hair cascade down around Guillermo’s face. He brushes his thumb over his lips, caresses his jaw line and the ridge of his brow. He’s memorizing the way his beloved looks right now, flushed with life.

“Guillermo, I want you to know that even if I do scramble your brains--which I won’t!--but even if I do, I will take care of you forever,” Nandor says, his eyes wide and earnest. “I’ll never abandon you or rip off your head. That’s a promise.”

Guillermo should scoff or snort or roll his eyes but instead he sobs and beams up at Nandor as he answers, “I know, baby. I’ll never leave you or rip off your head either. I promise.”

Nandor nods and his dark eyes shift to focus on the crook of Guillermo’s neck. His skin is still slicked with the cooling sweat of their coupling and Nandor can see his pulse jumping in his throat. He opens his mouth in a hungry leer and his fangs elongate slightly.

“This will hurt, Guillermo,” his voice is dark and menacing, but also mournful. “I am sorry.”

He snakes a hand behind Guillermo’s neck and cradles his head to the side as he lowers his mouth to his vulnerable throat. He hovers there for a moment and marvels at the way his lover’s body surrenders so sweetly to him. Guillermo is soft and loose in his arms, the perfect victim. Nandor banishes that word from his mind. Guillermo, sweet, sensitive, competent, strong, scary, loving, powerful Guillermo. He is not a victim. He plunges his fangs into his human’s soft neck and takes from him the sweetest gift Guillermo has ever given.

Nandor’s terror and anxiety melt away as the blood pours over his tongue and down his throat. He has always known that Guillermo would taste delicious but this is ridiculous. He tastes like the joy of riding John over an open plain, he tastes like the excitement of watching the Dream Team do battle on the basketball court, and, most of all, he tastes like Guillermo. Like fuzzy knit hats and secret smiles and quiet evenings playing chess. Like longing and hunger and wistful pain. Like strength and desire and the thrill of conquest. Nandor drinks deeply, memorizing the flavor as his lover goes more and more limp in his arms.

He listens, once more, to the beating of that heart, just as Nadja said to do. He waits like Guillermo used to do, listening to the pops while he was making his corn kernel snack in the multiwave machine. Once the rhythm begins to slow Nandor pulls back, licking his lips and scrambling for the jar of blood on the nightstand.

He gathers Guillermo into his arms and the human moans low in his throat. Nandor feels unadulterated joy at the sound. He is still here . But when he looks down at his human’s pale, ashen face, a sob tears free from his throat. His lustrous, brilliant Guillermo diminished to such a drab reflection… Nandor mentally slaps himself and unscrews the jar, bringing it to Guillermo’s pale lips.

“Time for your snack now, Guillermo,” Nandor’s voice shakes. He strokes his fingers through the human’s curly hair as he lifts his head and begins to tip the contents of the jar into his open mouth.

Nothing happens for a small eternity. Nandor watches the blood pool in his lover’s mouth and spill out the sides of his lips with a feeling of increasing helplessness.

“Guillermo? Can you still hear me? It’s time to start drinking so you can become a cool vampire just like me and your friend, Armand…”

Guillermo’s eyes are closed and his body is unnaturally still.

“Please drink, Guillermo! I’m going to be very cross with you if you do not!”

His skin looks waxy and he feels heavier in Nandor’s arms. The vampire tugs him further into his lap and clutches him to his chest, tears falling onto the eerily calm face.

“Guillermo, you said you wouldn’t leave me again, please! ”

Guillermo swallows. Nandor watches with a giant, goofy grin on his face as the man’s throat bobs and the blood disappears from his mouth. He brings the jar back up to his lips and continues to hand feed him, taking comfort in the way Guillermo’s lips purse as he drinks down the vampire’s life-giving blood.

“That’s it, my cherished one,” Nandor says, slipping into endearments he used several lifetimes ago. “Drink, sweet honey. And don’t ever fucking scare me like that again !”

Guillermo snorts as he drains the dredges from the jar, blood bubbles forming on his lips as they curve into a smile. Nandor watches, his eyes wide and wondering, as Guillermo’s eyes flutter open and he feels a sense of intense relief when he recognizes that smile as the same one he fell in love with eleven years ago. Only...you know...with the fangs and the blood stains…

---

“So, I’d say it was a marked success!” Nandor shouts into the camera a few nights later. “Of course, there was a lot of vomiting and achy-pains in the beginning...but once that passed and he drank some human blood everything was OK-A! Isn’t that right, Guillermo?”

The camera zooms out to include Guillermo in the shot. He’s sitting next to Nandor on the chaise, their hands clasped together between them. His skin tone is very much the same although without the lively blush that used to grace his cheeks. He’s noticeably in tact, no pointed ears or deformities and seemingly in full possession of his brains.

He smiles and the camera zooms in on his newly minted fangs.

“ A-OK , Nandor,” he corrects in an affectionate tone. He leans over and kisses the immortal warrior on the cheek.

Nandor, still unused to public displays of affection, smiles nervously and answers with a roll of his eyes, “As I said, Guillermo!”

#nandor x guillermo #guillermo x nandor #nandermo #nandor x guillermo fanfic #wwdits #wwdits fanfic #smut

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akitokihojo · 4 years

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Delicate - Chapter 9

“Well, well. Found you.”

An uncomfortable thud knocked inside of Kagome’s chest at the potential threat presented before her. Sango had stopped alongside Kagome, gazing toward the man she must only see as a mystery. Kagome had never told her what had happened.

“Been a while.” Renkotsu cocked a thin brow, notching his chin up in a feeble and arrogant greeting.

“Not long enough.” Kagome said, adjusting her book bag casually, preparing her excuse to slip through. “And, we’re running late, so gotta go.”

“For what? Gotta pick up your kid brother from school? Or, maybe his friend’s house this time?” He asked, his smile growing a little wider.

“Excuse me?” Her tone piqued, approaching incredulous. How would he know she even had a little brother?

“He’s a cute kid. I’d say, in a few years, he’ll probably be taller than you.”

“What are you, a stalker?” Sango asked, immediately defensive. A scowl pinched at her face immediately, staring the guy down with plenty of indignation.

“Stalker’s a bit of a stretch.” He shrugged, appearing amused. “We’re old friends.”

“No. We’re not. Did you actually follow me home!?” Kagome pressed angrily.

“No, no, no. Nothing like that. What do I look like, a felon?” He chuckled. “I noticed you walking with the kid one day, and saw your school uniform. Isn’t that difficult to narrow down the field, especially when you innocently plant yourself on the path multiple times to confirm you’ve got the right institution. The rest is history.”

“Sounds like stalking to me.”

“Well, how about you go get your boyfriend, and he and I will sort this out.” He suggested, crossing his arms over his chest. “I did warn you two.”

“Kagome…” Sango gave a gentle yank to her sleeve, pulling her attention so she’d notice the direction Sango was looking in. A man was crossing the street, eyes on them and grin minacious. His hair was black, long, tied back in a braid, his hands tucked in the front pockets of his jeans, and shoulders relaxed like he owned the scene.

“What is this?” Kagome asked, turning back to Renkotsu.

“I was told to handle my dirty work, myself, so here I am.” The unwelcome man said, his voice smooth and mature, sauntering passed the two girls to stand beside Renkotsu. “How’s it going?”

“What’s going on?” Sango demanded, stepping closer to her friend so they were shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Which one’s which?” The new guy asked, pointing between the girls, his wrist loose to express his ease in their tension.

Renkotsu pointed to Kagome. “That’s his girl.” Then pointed to Sango. “Don’t know who she is.”

“Oh.” The guy smiled. “You can go, then.”

“We’ll be going. My dad’s expecting us both in ten minutes.” Sango fibbed.

“Then, I suggest you leave and make up an excuse for your friend here. Because, she’s not going with you.”

“Who the hell are you guys!?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but my name’s Bankotsu. And, I’m sure you’re gonna ask what we want next, so to get it out of the way, she - what’s your name, doll?” He asked, directing the question to Kagome.

Her lip curled in distaste, hating the nickname, and with a heavy roll of her eyes, she said, “Kagome.”

“Kagome’s gotten herself into a bit of trouble.”

“What, because I pushed him and called him a couple of mean names?” Kagome asked Bankotsu, though she stared Renkotsu down, watching his jaw clench. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“You want to act tough, but you don’t want to reap what you sow? Huh? Is that what I’m hearing? I warned you. If you had just left it alone when I told you to, you wouldn’t be involved in Inuyasha’s mess. Sure, degrade me all you want, but this is your problem now, bitch.”

“Hey! Back off!” Sango yelled, her shoulders squaring as Renkotsu marched forward a few paces. “I’m gonna call the cops if you don’t let us through right now!”

Bankotsu sighed impatiently, his easy expression fading as he lolled his head to the side and gently knocked on Renkotsu’s shoulder to signal for him to step away from the girls. “There’s no need for that.” He gave a brief massage to his temples to rub away some aggravation, his chest rising and falling with a thick breath. “The thing is, I’ve been trying to talk with Inuyasha for a while now. That’s it. Just talk. I’ve had some buddies of mine attempt to pass that message onto him, but they always end up bumping heads. The guy’s pretty disagreeable. I don’t want anything to escalate here. Honest. You guys can go on your merry way. Just do me a favor first and go get Inuyasha, would you? Then you can consider yourself problem-free.”

“Sorry, can’t help you.” Kagome shrugged, her expression flat. “We don’t go to school together.”

Inuyasha rolled his amber eyes, tapping his finger along his crossed forearm as he waiting for Miroku to wrap up something student council related. They’d only come back inside so he could grab some paperwork that could be finished at home, but some chick was in the committee room and started droning on and on about something Inuyasha immediately tuned out, because, quite frankly, he hadn’t signed up for that. He could tell his friend was trying to cut the conversation off, but the guy was pretty polite in comparison to the half demon. He was finally able to wrap it up by pointing out the impending bad weather outside, mentioning that they wanted to try to make it home before it rained.

As they left the schoolyard, crossing the street at the corner, a breeze carried over a familiar scent that couldn’t have been too far off, halting Inuyasha in his tracks. Miroku noticed, stopping but not altogether paying attention as he neatly adjusted the items in his bag.

“What’s up? Rain coming, Lassie?” He absentmindedly questioned.

“Which way did Sango and Kagome go?”

“Uh, I think they were heading to Sango’s house. Why?”

“They didn’t head down this street?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I think they sometimes go straight a little and then turn left on some corner or other to cut through. I don’t know the way, though, I’ve yet to go over.”

“Fuck.”

“What’s going on?” Miroku asked, his attention now fully on his friend. Inuyasha’s shoulders were tense, raised slightly, his sights on the distance and his brows pinched tightly together.

“I can smell Renkotsu nearby.”

“Is that one of those guys you used to roll with?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so let’s head home.” Miroku persuaded. “The chances of him knowing that either of the girls are affiliated with you is minimal, and the last thing you need right now is to get caught up in that. Things have been really good for you lately, Inuyasha. They’re probably fine, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Renkotsu knows Kagome.” He said, stabbing his best friend with his blazing stare. “He saw us together before.”

There was a slight shake to Miroku’s nerves, but he remained as rational as possible, trying to ease his friend back to a stable place. “Here, let me call Sango.” He offered, pulling his phone out. “They may already be at her place. If they are, we’re going to mine and laying low.”

He was honestly surprised the hanyou didn’t completely ignore him and storm off to find Kagome. He could visibly see the restraint he was exercising, but his eyes were searching the suburban horizon, and he knew he had to be using his nose to try and hone in on what direction Renkotsu’s scent was coming from. Maybe even searching out Kagome’s while he was at it. The line rang in his ear; one ring turning to two, then three, then the fourth cutting out before it went to Sango’s voicemail. Inconspicuously, he pressed her number to try again. One ring. Two. Three. Voicemail.

Miroku could admit now that he was worried, himself, his stomach beginning to churn within his abdomen. Steadily, he locked his phone, lowering it and leveling a gaze with Inuyasha. “So…”

“This way.” Inuyasha instructed, running back the way they came and leading Miroku in the direction their partners had gone.

Their scents were heavy in the air, four of them, one guy he couldn’t quite determine, and so was the storm that’d been threatening them all day. When it rained, he couldn’t smell shit, the only aroma he could detect being that of the water pouring from the sky. Even right before and after, the atmosphere was thick with the smell of rain, distracting his senses from anything else. Thankfully, they weren’t that far. Thankfully, he heard yelling to carry his feet the rest of the way. Thankfully, the wind had been on his side to tip him off in the first place.

“Don’t lie!” Renkotsu barked.

“I’m not! He and I don’t go to school together!” Kagome argued.

“So, call him up!”

“No!”

“Call him! Now!”

“I’m not doing shit for you!”

“Oh, see, you should! You’re in the heap of it, baby, and I’ve got nothing against showing you who’s boss now.” His grin was threatening, too joyful to be sane.

“I swear to god, if you don’t back up -“ Sango warned, interrupted by Renkotsu’s transferring glare.

“You’ll what, little girl? You actually think you can do any damage here? Since you want to be so involved, we’ll go ahead and keep your mouthy friend with us and you can go get Inuyasha.”

“Go fuck yourself.” She seethed.

“Wrong answer.” Renkotsu stepped toward her menacingly.

“Renkotsu…” Bankotsu cautioned, though his tone spoke a different message. “Before we go down that route, go ahead and hand over your phones. Unlocked.”

“Fat chance!” Sango scorned.

“Give them or we’ll take them. Final warning.”

“How about we just give you our lunch money and we’ll call it a day, since you sound like a couple of middle school douchebags.”

The two guys expressed utter annoyance, their sighs clenched and dragged, their eyes rolled, a smile on their lips showing conceit.

“Just tell me what you want to say to him, and I’ll make sure to pass the message along.” Kagome offered cheaply, looking daringly into Bankotsu’s eyes.

He stepped closer, meeting her stare, his cool demeanor dropping entirely as he encroached on Kagome, but she didn’t back away. Sango seemed almost prepared at her side, but she couldn’t tell if it was to join the fight if anything happened, pull her away, or shove Bankotsu off. If things actually came down to it, would these guys actually hurt them, or were they all talk? Was this a chance she was willing to take? Didn’t much matter now; she was in knee deep. Kagome had never actually been in a fight, and the guys weren’t necessarily small in comparison to them. The biggest issue was, if anything happened, would she and Sango even be able to fend them off, or would they easily be overpowered?

She heard a simple hum from Renkotsu but didn’t take her eyes off of the man hovering just inches away from her, nor did he remove his from her. She felt hot and angry and nervous, but despite that, she was more than willing to argue herself into an even deeper hole if it meant standing her ground.

“Is he really worth all this?” Bankotsu questioned.

“Yes.”

A powerful hand snatched her left forearm, pulling her back and away, her feet slightly tripping over one another but so solidly held that she stayed standing by the support. It was like she’d blinked and suddenly she was shielded by the broad back of the half demon, the heat of his grip searing through her clothes, keeping her close. Even from behind, she could see, feel, how heavily his lungs pumped air in and out, hear it leaving his nostrils, but he held firmly between she and trouble.

He’d immediately pushed Bankotsu back to create the space, livid that he’d gotten so intimidatingly close to Kagome to begin with. How fucking dare he? How fucking dare he threaten her? Involve her? He was seconds away from fucking this bastard up just for that. Bankotsu’s laugh taunted him further, baiting him, and he’d be damned if he didn’t consider just throwing his fist without bothering to get the small talk out of the way first.

“It’s been a while, buddy! Your hair’s longer! Damn, and you don’t look as scrawny as before, either! I’m impressed a hopeless half breed like you could look remotely like they have their shit together!” Bankotsu boasted.

Kagome huffed, ready to throw a rebuttal at him in Inuyasha’s defense, but Inuyasha was quick to apply pressure to her arm, keeping her silent.

“Congratulations. You’ve finally come out of your cave to find me, yourself.” He remarked. It’d been a year and a half since he’d last seen the leader of this group. No wonder he couldn’t pinpoint the fourth person’s scent; he didn’t remember it at all. “What’s the outside world feel like, Bankotsu?”

“You got jokes. You know what the real joke is, though?” Bankotsu questioned, chuckling, gliding his tongue over the front of his teeth. “I hear you have your girlfriend fighting your battles now. I figure, since she’s the one that wears the pants in the relationship, and she’s the one telling me to come out and play, I should take it up with her. She’s really mouthy, Inuyasha. You should teach her when to shut up.”

It was difficult - so fucking difficult - not to react to his jab toward her. All he fucking wanted to do was defend, protect, from anything and everything, but he knew Bankotsu was looking for a reaction, and the last thing he was about to do was give him what he wanted.

“Or, I can teach her for you.”

Inuyasha shrugged his brows, laughing lightly. “She can take you.”

“Should we test that theory?”

“No need. Renkotsu can tell you all about it.”

“Keep digging your grave, mutt.” Renkotsu dared.

Inuyasha merely cocked a brow at Bankotsu, stating his point was already proven. “You’re not here for her, though, so drop the act. You’re here for me. What the fuck do you want?”

“You did a stupid thing, Inuyasha.” Bankotsu chided, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back with an alpha complex.

“Yeah, over a year ago.”

“I might have dropped it if you didn’t treat this as a game.”

“Was it not? You weren’t actively seeking me out, you were just trying to get your cock suckers to bring me to you if we ran into each other. Clearly, it wasn’t that serious to you if you weren’t willing to do a little something, yourself. You wanted to attempt to make my life a living hell, so I was sending your goons back with black eyes and bloody lips to give you my own message: You lose. As a bonus, they couldn’t open their mouths wide enough to deep throat your frustrations away.”

Bankotsu heaved a tedious and hot sigh, exerting control and smiling through it. “Well, I’m here now. Taking me seriously yet?”

“Not really.”

“Oh? Even after I had your bitch cornered?”

Inuyasha shook his head.

“I see. Hear that, Kagome? He doesn’t really care about you.”

Inuyasha gave another squeeze to her forearm, making sure she kept her mouth shut. Thankfully, she heeded his warning, feeling her physical response as she leaned closer to his back. She could sense something was coming, and he could sense her apprehension from it. He didn’t bother to soothe her, though. He couldn’t. He had to stay level with the fuckers before him; softness wasn’t an option, and so neither was reassurance.

“Look, I’m done with the casualties.” Bankotsu’s smile fell, dark blue eyes hosting vexation. “You can come with us so we can square this away once and for all, or I’ll actually make your life a living hell until you do. We know where your new school is now, and I’m fully prepared to repay the favor you did for me so long ago. Ginkotsu’s just itching to break some shit, and I’ll personally make sure your name is all over the damage.”

“Wait,” Miroku spoke, his tone the most serious Kagome had ever heard it before. It was thicker, deeper, even a little authoritative. He’d braced himself in front of Sango just as Inuyasha had done with her, only he’d pulled her back further so if anything did happen, they were out of immediate reach. “This doesn’t have to come down to any of that. Maybe we can reach a common ground.”

“I’m not really one for ‘talking out my problems.’” Bankotsu stated simply, using his fingers to create air quotes. “These are the options.”

“It’s fine.” Inuyasha said, loud enough to dissuade Miroku from speaking up again. “I’ll go.”

“Inuyasha -“

“After that, we’re done, right?”

“Yup.” Bankotsu smirked.

“You guys will finally leave me the fuck alone?”

“That’s the deal.”

“And, you wont go near Kagome again?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m fucking serious, Bankotsu.”

“I am, too!” He held up his hands defensively, thoroughly entertained by the abrasive temper of the hanyou. “Do your part, come with us, we’ll settle this, and we’ll never talk to your girlfriend ever again.”

Inuyasha swallowed thickly, nodding once in comprehension. “I’ll be right there.” He waited until the two guys created their distance, standing at the corner with their smug expressions, before he turned back to Kagome, finally releasing her arm. He opened his mouth to speak, his tongue barely clicking, before she beat him to the punch.

“You can’t be serious.” Her tone was direct and thick, brown eyes piercing him.

“Go home.” He ordered, not bothering to try and relieve her obvious concern.

“No. I’m going with you.”

“Fuck no, you’re not!” He all but growled. “Go home! Now!”

“No, I-“

“Kagome, do you actually fucking think if you keep insisting I’m going to cave and let you come!? You know we’re not gonna go sip some tea and make nice, right!? Do you fucking get that!?”

“All the more reason for me to come!” She argued, her voice growing sharper, louder.

“No, shut up! We’re not doing this! I’m not going to fight with you until you understand! You’re going to drop it and go home, and I will call you tonight! Got it!?” The hanyou seethed, ignoring the glower that pressed her reddened face. He turned to Miroku, his own concern at the situation showing through his furrowed brows. “Make sure she gets home. Walk her there. Or to Sango’s. I don’t fucking care, just get her out of here.”

“Inuyasha -“ Miroku tried again as he began to walk toward the two awaiting delinquents.

“Don’t. Just do me this fucking favor and keep her safe.” He said lowly, radiant eyes flickering back and forth from Miroku to Sango so they knew the message was for the both of them. “I’ll be fine. You and I both knew I was going to have to deal with this sooner or later.”

They watched him meet up with Bankotsu and Renkotsu, the half demon trailing just behind them as they led him off and out of sight.

Kagome was furious, her chest heaving, fingers furling into fists so tight that her nails pinched into her flesh. Then, before she could notice the transition, her anger shifted into heavy anxiety, her lungs trying to catch oxygen, as she began to panic at the thought of what may happen to Inuyasha in a matter of moments. She was trying to keep it together, removing her sight off of the empty space she’d just seen Inuyasha in and focusing on Miroku and Sango, waiting for somebody to say something. Sango stood there, baffled, shocked, her mouth hanging agape as she looked back at Kagome, and Miroku looked angry and defeated, but was clearly much better at appearing calm than the rest of them.

“What the fuck is going on?” Sango asked, the question open for anyone to answer, crossing the small distance to Kagome to rub her hand up and down her arm comfortingly.

“Inuyasha went through a dark period.” Miroku explained, following closely behind his girlfriend but leaving some space so Kagome wouldn’t feel crowded. “He got involved with a bad group for a while, and went about it all wrong when he wanted out.”

“What did he do?”

“He tried just leaving, but they wanted to give him shit for it. So, he wrecked their space when they weren’t there as a big fuck you.” Even Kagome shot him a look, expressing that she didn’t know that bit of information. “Come on, trust me, Kagome, he can handle this. To be instated into a group like that, you have to go through a beating. Getting out is all the same. He’s stronger now, more resilient, he’ll be fine.”

“Could you maybe explain that with a little more tact next time.” Sango fired.

“I’m being honest.” He said, his voice unwavering. “Kagome deserves the truth. This isn’t going to be a walk in the park, but this is something he can deal with. Alone. He has to.”

“Wait, so just how bad is this, though?” Kagome asked, a slight shake determinable in her tone. “Is it a huge gang? Or, are we talking three or four people? Are they humans? Demons? Do they have weapons? What’s going to happen?”

“Human, but I don’t know the specifics other than that. I doubt there’s more than ten of them, and the chances of them having lethal weapons are highly unlikely, but don’t quote me.”

“Ten?”

Miroku exhaled shallowly. “I don’t know.”

“They’re only getting further.” Sango mentioned to Kagome, letting go of her arm. Kagome nodded, the two of them, like always, clearly on the same wavelength. “I’ll call my dad.”

“What are you doing?” Miroku asked skeptically, stepping in their path.

“Going after them, obviously.” Sango replied, pulling out her phone to find her dad’s contact.

“No. No! Absolutely not! This isn’t something we should get involved in!”

“Inuyasha’s your friend, right!?” Kagome challenged.

“Yes, and if you two weren’t here, I guarantee I’d be with him right now, but that’s not the case! No wonder he told me to walk you home; you’re reckless!”

“You don’t know the half of it.” She affirmed. “You can back off and stay behind or you can come with and help, but if you try to stop me, I will personally show you how reckless I can be!”

He stood there, shocked, witnessing the burning fire in her irises grow larger, hotter, more threatening. There was no fighting her, that was for sure. He didn’t know what help they’d all be, but she was no sissy, so if she felt this was the right thing to do, he should stick by her. Letting her go off alone didn’t seem like the wisest choice on anyone’s behalf. If anything, he’d escort her to the setting of the incident, but he’d do his part and prevent her from getting in harm’s way.

Miroku gave in, his chest deflating as he cleared the way for Kagome to take the lead, the girl quick to start running in the same direction the other three had headed off in. Sango held her phone to her ear, running at Miroku’s side and keeping up, and when her dad answered, her heaving breath really helped the concerned hitch in her tone carry through. Any good father would react instantly to a panicked call from their child.

The drizzle began, light and cold, but Kagome was unbothered, her mind all over the place as she wondered which way they could have gone. Each alley they passed was looked down, each side street was checked, and she felt like they’d all lost their way until they happened upon two women running with their bags held over their heads, protecting themselves from the sudden strengthening of the rain.

“Excuse me!” Kagome called, stopping them in their path. “Have you seen a guy with dog ears pass by?”

“Hard to miss.” One replied. “Turned right just a little ways down.”

“How far?” Miroku asked, keeping his tone as mellow as possible.

“Two blocks maybe?”

Without thanks, the three continued on, turning on the designated street and slowing as they saw no one. The street was narrow, almost resembling an alley but still inhabited by smaller homes. In her gut, Kagome felt like they may be close, but she couldn’t pinpoint how much further they’d have to go. She didn’t even know what they’d do to stop the fight, she just knew she had to do something. She couldn’t sit back and pretend everything was fine while Inuyasha was in a dangerous situation. That wasn’t possible.

Sango was trying to hush her argument with her father, insisting she was fine when he demanded she stay back and let him handle things, but they wouldn’t know where to go if she didn’t stay with Kagome. She was positive he’d get his squad to track her cellphone signal. If she led them to the spot, they’d be able to hurry there and hopefully prevent anything from getting serious. On a whim, she stopped talking altogether. He’d get the hint if she stayed on the line and didn’t speak. He’d understand she wasn’t going to give in, and he’d have to do his part without further argument. Aside from that, a rooting sensation told her it was time to quiet down. The street was ominous; maybe because of the current predicament, maybe because of the onslaught of rain and darkened skies. Either way, if they were close, she wasn’t going to tip anyone off that they were following. They were already at a disadvantage. Two small girls, one human boy, and one half demon boy against about maybe ten guys? Yeah, the odds were not in their favor, and she could only hope her dad was quick to arrive before anything escalated to that point.

“This way.” Miroku whispered, carrying ahead of the two of them with a light jog.

“Oh! It’s Inuyasha!”

The hanyou grieved a sigh, rolling his eyes at the flamboyant guy that welcomed him as they approached the shaded area at the back of the old, battered, abandoned shop. The whole lot was there. All seven of them, six of them looking at him like he’d be fun to rip to pieces and the last looking at him like he was the most thrilling amusement ride. He wasn’t sure which he preferred.

“Well, you guys haven’t changed.” He muttered.

“Not a really good time to talk shit, gotta tell you.” Suikotsu advised, grinning. His hair was dark brown, spiked and styled, his eyes slanted and daring, though his posture was lax, leaning back against the wall.

“It’s about time you manned up, half breed.” Mukotsu added. He was the shorter, uglier one of the bunch, looking about forty with his disadvantages but truthfully only sat at eighteen. Maybe nineteen - Inuyasha didn’t remember; he just knew they were all around the same age. Mukotsu’s biggest threat was his capability to give women the creeps when he stared as they passed by. Otherwise, he was one of the few Inuyasha hadn’t seen since he left, and if he had, he’d easily pummel to a pulp.

Still, even Inuyasha could admit, when it was seven against one, Mukotsu was someone he’d favor going head-to-head with. Kyokotsu and Ginkotsu were the tanks of the group. They were slow and dimwitted, but they were ungodly strong. Even against demons. Jakotsu was nimble and packed a punch, but the worst thing about him was the fact that he’d laugh when striking someone. It was slightly terrifying. For a person who claimed to always have a thing for Inuyasha, he sure enjoyed squaring up with him, too. Not quite the type of romance Inuyasha was into. Ever since the beginning, he always felt bad for potential boyfriends Jakotsu would have in the future; for obvious reasons. Suikotsu was, as everyone deemed him, the cool one. He wasn’t hot-headed, he wasn’t swayed by insults, he didn’t have a tendency to get too worked up. He was built, he knew how to clap back in more ways than one, but when the going got real, he got vicious. It was like a darker personality was rooted deep beneath the surface and it took ripe instigation to set it free, but god, if you did, good fucking luck. Bankotsu, the leader, liked to sit back and watch his men do his fighting for him. He was prideful. Every time Inuyasha saw him grin, it reeked of vanity and made him want to forcefully remove the smug look from his face. He was insanely intelligent, though. Maybe not as smart as Renkotsu, but he was right behind him. Inuyasha had personally witnessed Bankotsu bring Kyokotsu to his knees once, and he’s the largest and strongest. It’s all about strategy, figuring out weaknesses, utilizing them correctly, and it helped that he wasn’t anyone who could be considered weak, either. As sour as it was to confess, Bankotsu had earned his spot at the top.

“Let’s get this over with.” Inuyasha grumbled, making it sound like this was a waste of his time.

“You shouldn’t be in such a hurry to get your ass kicked.” Kyokotsu chuckled.

“For all the trouble he’s put us through, I say we tie him down first.” Jakotsu suggested, waggling his brows.

Inuyasha cringed, the actual threat behind it not capable of sinking in when Jakotsu was the one talking. But, when Ginkotsu and Renkotsu - who sauntered over to join the lot of them - chimed in to agree, the hanyou felt the weight of it. That’d leave him helpless to their ruthless beating, potentially too damaged to even get himself home on his own. They weren’t killers; he was confident Bankotsu would stop them when enough was enough and felt satisfied with the amount of blood Inuyasha spit to the ground, but seven against one was already a handicap. It would be merciless to tie his hands behind his back and expect him to lie there and take it.

“That doesn’t sound like your style.” Inuyasha countered quickly, aiming to subtly challenge Bankotsu’s pride. “Do you guys see me as that much of a threat that you have to prevent me from fighting back?”

Six of them laughed, impudence laced with incredulity. Good.

“You don’t stand a chance against all of us!” Ginkotsu declared.

“Then why tie me down?”

“Why should you get the chance to defend yourself?” Renkotsu opposed.

“I thought this was all about how you were better than me. How can you prove you’re superior to anyone if you had to tie your opponents hands behind their back to win?” Inuyasha coolly bargained.

“No, he’s right.” Bankotsu agreed, his tone even, a charming grin on his lips. “He wants to fight back, he can fight back. There’s no way he’ll win, and he knows it. No pinning, no holding, and nothing below the belt. Good?”

Inuyasha particularly favored the last motion, knowing it was directed at Ginkotsu. Not that it was necessary, but that fucker always fought dirty.

The rain was really coming down now, droplets bouncing off of the asphalt as they fell from the sky with force, the sound of them clapping down filling the silence among the men. Just about all of them were smiling with odd delight, some moving forward from under the shelter provided by the eaves of the shop, some of them staying put to wait their turns. Inuyasha allowed his book bag to fall from his shoulder, grabbing the strap before it hit the floor and tossing it off to the side, out of the way, and then pulled his already-rolled sleeves further up passed his elbows.

His breathing was tight, intentional, heating his body from within while he waited, observing the way the vultures began to surround. He couldn’t help but wonder who was going to instigate by throwing the first punch. On top of that, he couldn’t help but wonder how long this would last or how far this would go. When he was first circled by this crowd a little over two years ago, asking for entrance, willing to pay whatever price to fit in somewhere, it was rough. They challenged him one at a time, and each handed his ass to him like it was nothing. He wasn’t well-versed in fighting then. His swings were limp and sloppy, and his kicks were more like flailed legs. Given the experience he’d received since then, he was a lot more structured and advanced now. That was the only reason he’d been able to hold the upper hand against them when they came at him individually during run-ins. Even the few times it was two against one, he still held his own. Seven against one, god he could laugh for the mess he’d gotten himself into. He knew it was only a matter of minutes before he was overwhelmed by the attack, but he’d be damned if he’d give in without one hell of a fight. He’d stand for as long as he could.

Amber eyes landed on Kyokotsu as he happily approached, bracing, but after Inuyasha was punched in the jaw from the right, he realized the troll was the distraction so Bankotsu could unsuspectingly get the first hit and throw him off kilter. The hanyou reacted, briefly rubbing out his face as he turned back to meet Bankotsu’s bitter smile.

“You’ve held yourself pretty well against everyone here before, so let’s see how you fair against me first.”

“My pleasure.” Inuyasha said a little too gladly. If there was anyone he’d love to fuck up, aside from Renkotsu’s bitch ass, it was Bankotsu. It probably would have pleased the bastard to know he’d successfully gotten beneath Inuyasha’s skin, but who the fuck cared at this point? There’s no better face to make his knuckles bleed from hitting so hard.

Bankotsu, with a dangerous glint in his eye, came forward, dodged Inuyasha’s defensive swing just to show off how quick he was and then went at him again, veering enough for Inuyasha to barely graze him, ducking, and then elbowing him in the side of his ribcage. The half demon had tensed in time to avoid having the wind completely knocked out of him, and in a growl of agitation, he reached for the cocky fucker, spun him to fully face him, and decked him square in the nose. It was like the fun was wiped clean off of the other six, and they began closing in for their turns, but Bankotsu held up his hands to stop them, inadvertently giving them all a glimpse at the blood seeping from his nostrils. When they heeded his silent order, Bankotsu chuckled, running the back of his thumb beneath his nose to see the crimson damage for himself.

“Let’s have some fun.” The leader smiled.

Her heart was racing a mile a minute, thundering in her chest, and as the three of them stopped jogging the little ways they’d gone, trying to figure out where the hell to go next, she ran her shaking fingers through her thick, wet hair to keep it from sticking to her face any longer. Sango and Miroku stood ahead of her, and they began walking again, but as her feet moved to follow she caught the very faint sound of grunts and shouts coming from her right. Kagome didn’t even bother alerting her friends, she just took off in that direction, following the pull in her gut, her shoes slapping against the wet pavement as she ran down a dim alley.

Miroku, having heard the slight scuffle of feet from behind, turned around, noticing Kagome was gone. He hissed a curse, grabbing Sango’s shoulder to direct her, her perception of hearing probably thrown from her father talking in her ear. Another curse, this time louder when he grew aggravated at just how similar Kagome seemed to his best friend; a little brash, a little impetuous, a little irrational, and a little stupid.

“Dad, I’ll call you back.” Sango said, hanging up before he had an opportunity to protest, something she felt she should have done from the start; she wanted to alert him and have them lock onto her signal, and she knew that only took a matter of minutes once they got the ball rolling, and she’d only stayed for his sense of comfort from that point on. “Where did she go?” Her voice was higher, on the frantic side as she ran over to the nearest alley, figuring it was the only possible route.

Sango didn’t even bother thinking it through, running down the pathway with Miroku sticking close behind. On the other side of it, there was a broken, brick wall, the lowest parts of the unstable structure sitting at about shoulder height for her with an opening a little further to their right. Immediately peering over the shabby pieces, they noticed the group taking their hits on Inuyasha across the street, and Sango’s jaw dropped at the sight.

Miroku squeezed from behind her, acting quickly, running towards the opening as fast as he could and snagging Kagome by wrapping an arm around her lower abdomen, picking her up, and spinning her around. As gently as he could in his hasty reaction, Miroku set her down, pushing her back a few feet to be shielded behind taller-standing bricks.

“Are you crazy? Have you assessed the situation at all, Kagome?” He kept his voice low so as to not attract attention. Her cheeks were brightly flushed, her brows furrowed deeply and chest heaving air into her lungs.

“We don’t have time for that!”

“What’s your plan?” He challenged. “What could you possibly do to break that up? Run into the middle and use your girlish charm to stop everyone mid-swing? No! This shit doesn’t work like that! It’s not even one-on-one, they’re jumping him!” Kagome’s chin quivered at that, but Miroku continued. “Did you ever stop to think of the repercussions of interrupting? You could -“

“Why did you come then, Miroku?”

“To see if there was anything we could do! It doesn’t take a genius to know that there isn’t at a glance.” Kagome opened her mouth to respond, but he silenced her by planting his palm over it. “You could make this so much worse for him. Think about it. If you run out there, he’s going to be so focused on protecting you, he won’t even stand a chance in defending himself. They could grow angrier because of your boldness and take it out on him. Do you want that?”

It took a moment. A tense moment where her cheeks had puffed beneath his hand and her eyes squinted from the anxiety, imagining the scenario, allowing it to sink in, her lids blinking rapidly from the raindrops that curved along her face. Then, she shook her head to answer his question, giving in when she realized he was right. Miroku released her, breathing out, his eyes apologetic at how rough he’d had to get, but she understood. She looked over at Sango who was watching over the wall, her phone to her ear and her voice soft as she spoke.

“Daddy,” She whispered unsteadily when her father answered the phone. “Seven. There’s seven of them.”

Seven.

Against one.

Kagome sucked in a ragged breath, holding it in her chest as she turned to look at the scene, her heart plummeting to the floor as she watched Inuyasha cough out and double over. It’s not like she knew better from worse, but it seemed they were going at him rougher than what was deemed necessary. Another hit from a huge guy and he was on the ground. She winced alongside Miroku, ignoring the gentle hand on her arm that tried to tug her away. The second attempt was stronger, successful, and Sango pulled her into a tight hug. She could even hear her dad talking through the phone, and as soon as they confirmed they had the location, Sango hung up and dropped her cell in the pocket of her bag.

“Dad’s on his way. It’s gonna be fine.” She reassured her, but Kagome pushed out of the hug, giving a cheap smile in appreciation. This wasn’t about her. No matter how helpless she felt, which was exponentially so, she didn’t want this sort of attention. It only amplified how she could do nothing to stop what was happening.

With a shaky sigh, Kagome leaned her back against the wall, attempting to tune out the horrific sounds of Inuyasha’s grunting, the growling, the coughs and wheezes, the noises of the impacts of fists and kicks meeting his body, the curses from the culprits’ mouths, the goading and coaxing to get him back up so they could continue. And then, a pulsation rippled the atmosphere, instantaneously making Kagome feel sick to her stomach.

She could hear him telling them to stop, urgently repeating the word. Demanding they hold back for a moment.

Another ripple, and a lump formed in Kagome’s throat, threatening to make her puke. She looked over at Sango, and it seemed like she noticed it, too. Then, she looked over at Miroku whose eyes were wide as he was the only one who was witnessing the events.

The fighting sounded like it was ceasing, and Inuyasha made a noise like he was in pain. But, his voice was heavy, gruffer than ever before, a deadly growl warning everyone to step back.

Another pulse, and Kagome knew something was horribly wrong. Defying the disgusting sensations pitting in her abdomen, she looked out, noticing the half demon against the floor, bracing himself, breathing thickly.

“I think,” Miroku spoke. “I think his demon blood is taking over.”

“What does that mean?” Kagome quickly questioned, looking back and forth from Inuyasha to Miroku.

“It’s like fight or flight, but flight is no longer an option.”

“He’s one-hundred percent fight.” Sango added, watching beside them.

“And, when you’re one-hundred percent anything, you’re blinded to rationality. I heard this can happen when the body is convinced they’re in mortal danger. Like, a trigger of some sort.” Miroku said.

They watched an aggressive shudder vividly crawl over Inuyasha’s back, his claws swinging when one of the attacking men tried to get close to him as he remained in his folded position.

“We need to stop the fight. We need to calm him down.” Kagome launched to run, surprised neither of them tried to stop her. The fight was just about over, anyway. The seven men had backed up, watching what seemed like a transformation come alive, some skeptical, some shocked, and some entertained.

Sango followed Kagome, grabbing two broken bricks from the ground in preparation, and when they cleared the opening of the wall and sprinted across the street, Kagome screaming for them to stop, Sango threw a brick right at the back of the widest guy, stealing his attention. Miroku was right next to her within another passing second, his own bricks in hand.

“I’m a good fucking shot, Shrek! You don’t want me to throw one of these at your face!” Sango yelled as he turned around and scowled. “Back off!”

“I suggest you guys get away from him!” Miroku insisted. “That’s his demon side coming through, and it only gets more dangerous from here on out!”

Seeing an opening, Kagome ran straight through, slowing the moment she was within the barrier. She dropped her bag where she stood, watching his breathing slow, steady, even out. He was unfurled, supported on his hands and knees, but his sight was glued to the asphalt beneath him. His silver hair was hued darker, soaked with rain, the ends of his bangs waving and dripping with water. From the side she approached, she could see his face, his ponytail curving around his opposite shoulder. She could see the blood that dropped from his mouth and the scrapes on his temple. More so, she could see the purple markings that faded in on his cheekbone, progressively darkening as if they’d always belonged.

She knew some demons had marks from birth. It had something to do with their lineage or heritage; she wasn’t very educated on it. Inuyasha had none, though. Was his demon blood so potent when provoked?

Still, she needed him to know she was there. That there was no reason to be worked up anymore. The cops were coming, and he didn’t have to worry.

Kagome knelt beside him, waiting a small moment for him to notice her. Nothing. No reaction. So, ever so gently, she placed her hand on his shoulder, the white cloth of his shirt sopping, translucent, the tint of his skin showing from beneath.

“Hey,” She breathed, allowing the weight of her hand to increasingly settle. “Don’t be mad, okay? I followed, but -“

Her sentence was cut off by her own sharp gasp as Inuyasha clutched the front of her top. His reflexes were insanely fast; she hadn’t even seen him move, nor did she have the time for much else before he yanked her an ounce closer and then forcefully shoved her away. Their position didn’t allot for her to be thrown very far, but he had still proved his unforgiving strength, having created some sort of distance and having caused a minor road rash along the back of her thigh that she’d never expected to receive from something like this.

Kagome was quick to throw her hand up when Miroku and Sango shouted her name, silently trying to tell them she was fine and not to come closer. This wasn’t Inuyasha. Inuyasha would never hurt her. Inuyasha would never hurt anyone he cared about. The offending group had spread out further, but their chuckles were almost as loud as boisterous laughter and she wanted to scream at them to shut up. This was their fault.

She’d been propped on her elbow, in shock at what had just happened, brown eyes glued to the half demon, no, full demon just feet away from her, tediously beginning to pick himself up to a standing. She’d managed to bring herself to a full sitting position, the hypnotizing sight before her making it easy to ignore the slight burning on the back of her leg from skimming the ground. As they appeared, Kagome noted each and every difference about him in this state. His smile was deadly, defiant, crooked, and confident. The purple markings on his cheeks were vibrant now, having made home. His claws were longer, more threatening. His shoulders were broad, full, carrying no trace of burdens or insecurity. And, his eyes. Kagome inhaled tremblingly, her chest hitching and throat tightening. She’d never seen eyes like this before. The sclera was a terrifying shade of red - not even closely resembling bloodshot eyes. They were just red. And, his irises were bright blue. Like, vigorous electricity struck through them.

Inuyasha stood tall, looking down on her, blood lightly trickling from his lips, to his chin, spotting the front of his soaked shirt. He gave her a shrug of his brows as he licked the corner of his mouth, shifting his attention to the men scattered around. His feet glided along the rough floor as he slowly turned about, taking in the features of each individual, his smile showing amusement.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was so low, so husky, it almost rang seductively, but she realized that the sensation she felt crawl up her spine was fear. He created that with two, simple words. “Why do you guys look so afraid? Realized you went a little too far and can’t handle the consequences?”

“Inuyasha?” She softly spoke, pushing her legs beneath her so she could stand. He didn’t regard her in the least.

It was hard not to be overcome by her dominating emotions. She was angry, and scared, and anxious, and overall just didn’t know what to do to help. Where was Inuyasha? How was she supposed to reach him?

The only logical - if logic was applicable here - idea that popped into her head was to get him to focus on her. He was in there. If she could catch his attention, someway, somehow, maybe he’d come back. Unfortunately, her apprehension was prevalent. She felt nauseous, not only from his energy but from the trepidation that maybe she wasn’t powerful or significant enough to succeed.

Thickly, Kagome swallowed, pretending her saliva was built of anything holding her back, and on her next inhale, she pushed through it all.

“Inuyasha, it’s me.” Carefully, she began to approach, watching every little move he made intently. He chuckled sinisterly, lolling his head back as he swiveled on his heel to face her.

“And, who the fuck are you?” He asked slowly, grinning still, his tone carefree but remaining low. Like, a different person was talking through a vessel.

It stung. Ice crept through the cavity of her chest to hear those words from Inuyasha’s lips.

“Kagome. I’m Kagome.” She leveled.

She observed the way his features gave way slightly, igniting hope. His brows had pinched together minutely, and the corners of his lips faltered, curving downward for a moment before he fixed them to sit straight.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” He stated, turning to face Bankotsu who stared back with distaste. “You, on the other hand… you don’t look so tough now, do you, hot shot?”

“Hey, it’s - it’s over. No one’s fighting anymore.” The rain was stopping, diminishing to a light sprinkle. Kagome walked forward, inching again to close the space between them. “So, let’s - let’s go. Can we go now, please?”

Inuyasha snarled, stabbing her with a dangerous warning of a glare, causing her to involuntarily flinch and still. “Back. Off.”

“You may not remember me right now, and that’s okay, but I know who you are. You mean so much -“

“Get away!”

Another flinch, but Kagome was deliberately relentless.

“Just the fact that you’re not attacking me -“

“Did you want me to!?” Inuyasha’s voice was loud and thunderous, and as she trembled again, he sidestepped away from her. “Because, I will if you don’t want to tread carefully!”

“Inuyasha, it’s done!” Her voice was raspy with her desperation. “Calm down! There’s no reason to keep fighting anymore!”

He gave an exaggerated scoff, dragging out the sound as he rolled his eyes vehemently. “See these guys? That’s seven reasons.”

“Fuck it, I’m tired of the dramatics!” One of them announced, his face marred with evidence of a few solid hits to the same spot. His tone held rage, his body language screamed that he was annoyed, and the way his jaw was set told her his adrenaline was still spiked. He wasn’t one of the obnoxiously large guys; he had an average build with a stare that could kill. “If he still wants to fight, I’m willing to knock him back down!”

“That’s what I fucking thought.” Inuyasha smiled, his entire body turning around to greet the approaching aggressor.

“No!” Before Kagome could even run forward, Miroku was on the man, pushing him back and slugging him in the cheek. He was shouting, telling him to stop being an idiot, taking a couple hits of his own, but Kagome’s eyes shifted back to the demon in the center. He was growling, the sound a threat on its own, dangerous eyes on Miroku, then traveling about the six others.

“Who’s next, then?”

“Stop!” Kagome implored. The plan to ease his way was thrown, and she lunged forward, grabbing his forearm to steal his attention, force it on her, even going so far as to give him a pull back in her direction, his body sturdier than she’d ever remembered it being before.

He reacted swiftly, turning back to her, ripping out of her hold and then grasping her upper arms with bruising force. She gasped shakily, wincing, and his grip on her seemed to decrease a fraction.

“What did I fucking tell you!?” Inuyasha yelled in her face, and she whimpered at his ferocious demeanor, succumbing to the weight of the stress of it all. Her eyes burned with quick-brimming tears and she couldn’t prevent her face from crinkling, or her chin from quivering, or the way her body had tensed substantially.

“Inuyasha, please. I don’t know how to help, but I want to. Are you afraid?” It was difficult to look up at him with how she just wanted to shrink down, his body curled over her, hair no longer dripping as the rain had completely ceased. She did, though. She leaned her head back, crying just a little harder when she noticed he wasn’t breathing. His throat was visibly tight, but his eyes were boring into her, signifying that he was still present. “I am. I’m really scared right now. I just want you back. The real you.”

She heard the grunt release from his lips, his eyes closing, shutting tight as he seemed to struggle with himself a little, but as he grunted again, his hands inadvertently clenched against her arms, a sharp pain stabbing the back of her left arm where his fingers pinched in. Kagome tensed her abdomen, her chest, her throat, trying to bite back the whine that threatened to spill, ducking her head to hide her twisted expression.

Inuyasha brought her closer, her face mere inches from his chest. His breathing was ragged. Rough. His growl was nonexistent. His body radiated heat like a furnace cranked up to its highest setting.

Kagome watched the way his chest moved, pumping air in and out of his lungs, progressively evening out, and the deeper and more serene his breaths got, the less pressure he applied to her arms, his hands slightly trembling as he let her go little-by-little.

Inuyasha took a single, staggering step back, and Kagome chanced a look at him, his golden eyes staring at his right hand, then fluttering back down to her. His irises were dull, lackluster, his lips slightly parted in confusion.

“Are you… are you okay now?”

The nod he gave was so subtle it was hardly detectable, but she watched his jaw move as he mouthed the softest “yeah,” his lips sealing immediately after.

With a heavy sigh of relief, Kagome pulled herself into his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt as her inhale brought her chest to tremble against him.

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desertdollranch · 4 years

Text

The Great Rewiggening

At the tippy top of today’s to-do list was this tremendous task: to place five new wigs onto five tiny heads!

It was a pleasant coincidence that all five dolls could be rewigged on the same day. I’ve been wanting to give Kirsten and Felicity new hair for years, but it wasn’t until very recently that I finally got my hands on exactly the right wigs. The bald girl in between them is a doll I’m customizing for my mother. In front of them is Willa, whose thin and cut hair has been frustrating me since the day I rescued her from a thrift store. And to the left of Kirsten is a temporary visitor who very generously donated her wig to the pile, and who will be getting a surprising new hairdo in exchange.

I decided to use this chance to show the entire process of how I remove and replace wigs. It’s been a while since my last rewigging tutorial, and I have so many new followers since then that I know at least a few of you will find this useful! I’ll discuss how to remove wigs, what to use to attach the new ones, how to put them on, how to be sure everything has gone smoothly, and a few resources for finding the right wig. Then you’ll get to see the end result of the five-fold Rewiggening.

(If you don’t feel like reading through the whole tutorial but still want to see the end result of their makeovers, go ahead and skip the rest of this, because you’ll have another chance to see other posts featuring their finished transformations.)

So here is what I’m starting with.

In the middle is a long black wig that will go on my mom’s doll. It is an off brand that she found on eBay. At the top left is Willa’s wig, with its intact curls. It just needs to be brushed. Bottom left is Kirsten’s wig that I got brand new from monique.com. Top right is Felicity’s wig, and that’s taken from another doll I bought solely for the wig. The curly wig on the bottom right is a “free sample” that I got from monique.com when I ordered Kirsten’s wig, and will be going upon the head of Felicity’s wig donor doll to make her a custom Agatha Pitt doll that I will not be keeping.

Let’s get started.

This is Agatha-to-be, shortly after she arrived. She is a Truly Me #61, with green eyes and the perfect shade of red hair that will look absolutely lovely on my Lissie, whose hair is dull and flat compared to this girl’s wig. I could tell from her listing that her hair probably only needed a good brushing, and I was right. So I brushed it through first with water, then did a second brushing with braid spray to make it shiny and strong, and I put it up in curlers.

I’d say it’s really more wavy than curly, which is exactly what I want for my Felicity. I left it for a few hours to set while I went and did something else.

When it was time to begin, I gathered all my wigs and my materials.

Here is the most important mechanism by which I remove the wigs:

This is a pair of pliers. You will use these to grip the edge of the wig and help pull it off. You can use ones like these or whatever sort of pliers you have on hand. If you are saving the wig you’re removing, either for another doll or for selling, then you’ll need something that won’t cut through the wig as you remove it, but applies the right amount of force. If the wig is going straight into the trash (something I’ve had to do a few times) then don’t worry about ripping it. Pliers are available at hardware stores, possibly dollar stores, and places like Walmart or Target.

Next is something optional, but very useful to have in case your wig gives you a hard time:

This is non-acetone nail polish remover. This will help loosen the glue that holds the wig to your doll’s head. It is non-acetone for a very important reason: acetone-based nail polish remover has the potential to melt your doll’s vinyl if used incorrectly. Steer clear of it. Now I say this is optional because you might not even need to use it. Sometimes doll wigs just aren’t glued down very well, and so it comes off the head with only a bit of force. But have it on hand just in case you run into a stubborn spot of glue. I paid less than $1 for this bottle, and I got about two years of use out of it. I’ve also removed nail polish from secondhand doll fingernails using this.

As for how to attach the replacement wigs, here is what I recommend:

Tacky glue is the only thing I use to attach wigs. I get it at Dollar Tree for $1 and the bottle lasts for a while. The reason I suggest using this is because it dries clear and strong, but not so strong that you can’t remove the wig again later if you have to. This is helpful in case you decide the wig isn’t quite the look you’re going for, or it’s placed incorrectly (too far back, too far forward, too far left or right).

Also, if you rewig a doll and then later want to send it to the doll hospital for a head replacement, you will need the original wig or something that looks exactly like the original put back on to the doll’s head. The doll hospital has the right to refuse service to a doll they can’t identify. So if you do rewig a doll with a drastically new look and think you might want the head replaced later, hold on to the original wig and put it back on when the time comes for a hospital visit.

So that’s it for materials. The rest is done with your hands. Begin with your pliers.

What I like to do is search towards the back of the wig and find a loose spot on the wig’s edge that I can slip my pliers under and start pulling.

I’ve found a weak spot here, from which I can begin pulling.

I move up along the edge of the wig cap, pulling gently and slowly to loosen it away from the doll’s head.

The perimeter of the wig is the easy part. Usually where I run into tough spots is in the middle.

This is an especially stubborn patch of glue, so what I do is soak a sponge brush with polish remover and sort of dab it onto where the wig cap meets the scalp. It’s hard to get a photo of this that makes sense but it’s pretty easy. You can also use a Q Tip or a paper towel soaked in polish remover to apply it to the glue. It’s okay if it gets on the wig cap or hair, since it won’t damage it. But use it sparingly because it smells bad and the smell can linger in the wig for a while.

If you are selling the wig you are removing, it is good manners to mention in the listing whether or not you took it off using nail polish remover. Some people are very sensitive to the smell of the remover, and giving them heads up is a courteous thing to do.

You may find a few stray strands that are glued to the head and aren’t attached to the wig cap. This is pretty normal. Discard them if you aren’t going to sew them back onto the cap (we won’t cover that here since that’s a whole other tutorial).

This girl is finished and ready for her new hair. I then am ready for the glue.

Spread a thin layer on the top of the head. Don’t go down to the hairline just yet. Don’t apply too much, or it might soak through the cap and get on the hair.

To put on the wig, you can do it the way I do, which keeps hair from getting in the glue. You simply invert the wig cap so that it bulges outward.

Then set it on the top of the head, making sure that you have it on correctly so that the part is where you want it (in the middle, to the right, or to the left).

Kirsten is getting a wig with a middle part, so I make sure to center the wig correctly.

Then push the wig down.

Again, make sure it’s positioned correctly.

Pull on the edges of the wig to make sure it lines up with the hairline. This is especially important at the back.

See how I’m pulling it down to the hairline? If you’re not sure it’s on all the way, use your finger to poke the top of the wig to make sure it’s flush with the scalp and there are no bulges in the wig cap.

Once you’re sure it’s positioned right, do not apply any more glue just yet. Leave it alone for 3 to 4 hours to let the glue dry. Once it’s dry, you can apply glue to the hairline.

The reason you wait to let the first application of glue dry before applying it here is so the wig will stay put when you pull down the sides of the wig to meet the hairline. Otherwise, it would shift if you pull too hard. This is also so that you can be really really sure you like the position of the wig, or even the wig itself. It’s much easier to peel if off before you glue down the hairline.

And here is the finished product! I love the wispy bangs and clearly defined center part. And I love how shiny and soft it is. This is the Dani wig in size 10-11 from monique.com, which I took a bit of a risk buying. The problem with that site is that they don’t always show you pictures of all the colors that the wig comes in. But I saw this wig on someone else’s doll in another color, and I knew at least the style would be perfect. So I crossed my fingers and hoped that their shade of blonde was the right shade. Turns out it is! I’m very happy with it. Kirsten’s old wig was so thin and dull and lifeless compared to this one.

The braids are secured onto to the top of the wig with small threads, which can be cut so that the braids can be let down and put into her signature looped braids. They’re a little longer than Kirsten’s hair. I might consider trimming the ends so that I don’t have to tuck them in back.

And here is my transformed Felicity!

I absolutely love this look on her. It’s not even a drastic change in color; in fact, I think that at first glance, and if you didn’t know otherwise, you might assume that this is her original wig. But it’s soft, shiny, wavy, and is the most beautiful color of red. It’s full of bronze and gold highlights that give it a lifelike appearance. I wish I could have made this switch years ago! I did make a few matching pin curls to replace the ones that were removed, but I’ll save that process for another post.

Willa turned out great as well, after I brushed out her wig, flat-ironed the frizzy parts close to her scalp, and put it in curlers overnight.

Her new wig is very thick and vibrantly colored! Her original one was so thin and flat that I was never happy with the curls I managed to get from it. This one has its original curls and is a much brighter red. Rewigging Wellie Wishers is exactly the same process as rewigging an 18 inch doll.

My restoration patient looks very nice with her new wig.

This wig is so soft and shiny and long, although very thick so her braids look a bit bulky. She is going to be a custom Speaking Rain doll for my mom, who loves her Kaya doll and wants to give her everything possible, including a sister. I don’t think this doll (a 2001 JLY #2) would have been my first choice, but she’s not for me so that’s that. My mom will be painting her eyes, since she didn’t like any of my attempts to do so, which is fine. I didn’t like them either.

Finally, Agatha Pitt was happy to accept her new hairdo!

She is so darn cute. The light and my phone camera make her eyes look darker than they are, but they’re a very pretty green, and the wig is definitely auburn in real life, not as brown as the picture shows. As soon as I have a dress sewn up for her, I’ll post her for sale and give my blog followers first dibs on claiming her.

#doll repair #doll care #doll wigs #rewigging #rewig #doll restoration #american girl dolls

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loveforpreserumsteve · 4 years

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Those Who Fall: “APTF” Story (Modern Domestic Stucky AU)

Eight:

Parking in the garage, Bucky cut the engine and climbed out. Steve started to as well, until Wanda asked, "You live here?"

Having gotten used to the brownstone, Steve almost forgot what it was like to see it for the first time. It brought Steve back to his former self who was positive that he and Bucky wouldn't be able to afford it. Or that it would be too large for just the two of them. Sure, they had fixed it up once they did purchase it, but the bones of the house had always been elegant.

"We do," Steve confirmed, climbing out and opening the passenger door for her.

With some difficulty, Wanda climbed out of the car and rubbed her small baby bump. Eyes wide as she looked over everything. The hockey sticks, the baseball and softball bats, the plethora of soccer balls and basketballs. On the walls, bikes were mounted out of the way. Up top, in the loft were kayaks and inner tubes for their camping trips at the lake. As Wanda's eyes roamed over the interior of the garage, so did Steve's; trying to see what she could be seeing.

However, all Steve could see was a home.

Bucky led them through the garage and started the tour. Pushing open the door to the right, he said, "This is the laundry room." Turning, around, Bucky pointed to the door at the end of the hall, "That's our bedroom."

Then, he started heading upstairs. Bucky first, Wanda next, and Steve last. Once at the main level, Steve noticed that the girls were absent while Luke and Ethan lounged on the sofa in their pajamas, freshly bathed and relaxing before bed.

"These are our sons." Steve gestured to the older boy on his phone, "Luke and --" he gestured to the little boy cuddling with a hand-me-down Pascal pillow from, Tangled, "-- Ethan."

Both boys turned to look at her while Bucky said, "Guys, this is Wanda."

"Hi," Ethan shyly greeted before bashfully burying his face in the stuffed chameleon's body.

"Hey," Luke gave her a nod before redirecting his attention to his phone.

Wanda cleared her throat and softly returned, "Hi."

Steve smiled. They didn't seem to hate each other, and he saw that as a success. All the while, Bucky gestured to the left, towards the front of the house, "That's the sitting room."

"There's art supplies," Steve told her, giving her a kind smile when she looked at him, "You can use anything in there. Markers, paints, beads. Anything."

Mutely, Wanda nodded and ducked her head when Steve looked at her for too long. Steve's heart broke a little more, with every movement to withdrawal into herself. They had kids like that in the past. The abused and neglected. With Sun-Hi, they had spent months trying to get her to even make eye contact with them. Now, she was a confident young woman in culinary school. With Tommy, it had taken longer, but now he could argue without having a panic attack. Which was miles away from where he had been.

Steve could only hope that they'd be able to help Wanda, too.

As the trio made their way to the kitchen, Steve asked, "Would you like to eat first? Or you can bathe while we warm it up."

Wanda shifted uncomfortably and meekly answered, "I'd like to shower."

Steve nodded and started guiding her back through the dining room and into the living room. Rounding the grand staircase, Steve led the way. All the while, Bucky could be heard in the kitchen, preparing the soup. On the second story of the house, Tibby could be heard with Sophia.

Tibby could be heard laughing, "It must be nice being a duck."

"Quack, quack," Sophia giggled.

Rounding the banister, Steve found Tibby brushing Sophia's stringy-wet hair while the little girl pretended that her arms were duck wings. Steve couldn't help but chuckle at the sight and the joy that radiated off of them. Once Wanda was on the landing, Steve gestured towards the two who could be seen in the doorway of the girls' bedroom and said, "That's Bucky's sister, Tibby, and our daughter Sophia."

Wanda nodded in acknowledgement and Steve gestured towards the rooms closest to the stairs, "These are the boys' rooms." Walking towards the other end of the hallway, Steve passed the bathroom and said, "We like to leave the door open, so people know that it's not occupied. But we also knock whenever the door is closed, just in case. Pretty common sense stuff. There's hair-ties galore that you can use, and unopened toothbrushes in the second drawer."

Another nod and Steve led the way towards the other two bedrooms. The one that Katie shared with Holly when she was home from college, and the one with multiple beds that was currently only occupied by Sophia and her dolls.

Gesturing to the room on the right, Steve said, "You'll be staying in here."

Wanda peeked into the room and sheepishly smiled at the little girl who had stopped quacking long enough to have her black hair braided so it'd be curly, "just like Auntie Tibs'." For a moment, the two paused and smiled over at Steve and Wanda, nothing but kindness. Steve could already see the adoration filling in Sophia's eyes. Sure, she loved her brothers, but she loved having sisters, too.

"You can choose either of the other beds, just not the one with the pink floral comforter and the bumblebee pillow. That's Sophia's bed." Steve informed, crossing his arms and hugging himself instead of hugging this poor girl who needed so much love.

Thickly swallowing, Wanda darted her tongue out along her lips to wet them and answered, "The bed closest to the window, please."

For a moment, fear shot through Steve. Terrified that she'd try to make an escape and run away. Only, his imagination got the better of him as he dreaded that next time they found her on the street, she'd be dead.

Shaking the thought out of his head, he squeezed himself once before he dropped his arms and turned to look at the timid brunette. "How about you take a shower and I'll find you some clean clothes and change your sheets, so they're fresh?"

Simply, Wanda nodded and headed for the bathroom. Steve was starting downstairs as Wanda closed the door. Only, he paused when she did. Through the crack of the door, she peeked over at him and quietly said, "Thank you."

"No problem," Steve sincerely grinned.

Once the door was closed, he continued on his way. Looping around the banister at the bottom and heading straight down to the lower level of the house. Figuring that the only clothes that would comfortably fit, would be Bucky's. Immediately checking the dryer to see if there were any warm clothes in there. However, it was just the kids' laundry, so Steve headed into their bedroom and straight for their closet.

Knowing that the Father's Day sweatshirts were the softest, Steve grabbed a maroon colored one that correctly claimed, Number One Dad. Smiling down at the soft garment, he rifled through Bucky's sweat pants until he found a pair of gray joggers. After all, she was taller than him, so she definitely wouldn't fit a pair of Steve's. Plus, Bucky's were comfier.

As Steve returned to the main level, he found the boys still lounging along with the sleeping dog. Glancing at the clock, Steve reached over the back of the couch. Smoothing down Ethan's damp hair, Steve said, "Bedtime."

"Papa," the six year old unhappily whined, burying his face further into the Pascal pillow.

"I know, bub," Steve soothed, "But it's late and you've had a long day. I've had a long day. And you don't want to be grumpy tomorrow."

Ethan huffed and dramatically slid off the sofa, disturbing Thor at their feet. Still clutching the stuffed chameleon to his slender frame. Tugging at his Mandalorian, The Child, pajamas until they were right on his body again. Then, he slumped his shoulders and started trudging up the staircase.

Shaking his head, Steve directed his attention back to Luke and told him, "I want you to go to bed in an hour."

"Got it," he grumped, stretching out on the sofa, not taking his gaze off the phone.

Recognizing that something was wrong, Steve rested his arms on the back of the couch and asked, "What's up?"

For a moment, Luke just chewed on his plump lower lip. Then, he looked up at Steve and sat up. Quietly, he huffed, "She's older than me. Which means that I'm back to sitting in the back seat. And that my movie choice will be pushed back. And… and I'll have to wait until she's done in the bathroom before I can get ready."

Sighing, Steve walked around and sat on the couch. Setting the clothes to the side, he gestured for Luke to come closer, and that was exactly what he did. The boy leaned into Steve's side and rested his head on Steve's slender shoulder. It still surprised Steve sometimes with how much he had grown in the last four years. He had a growth spurt, where his shorter, chubbier frame thinned out for the most part, which he seemed particularly thrilled about. He had armpit hair, and that, for some reason, surprised Steve because his little boy was growing up.

Smoothing Luke's slightly damp, combed out hair away from his face, Steve rested his cheek on the top of his head while he was still able to do so. Trying to comfort the teen, he said, "Just because someone new came into the family doesn't mean that you're going to be pushed to the side. It doesn't mean that we're not going to listen to you, or not care about what you have to say. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean that we're going to love you any less. You should know that by now."

Luke eased against Steve, "Thanks, pops."

"Of course," Steve assured, kissing the top of his head, "We're always going to be here for you. Always. No matter how old you are, or how far away you move -- although I would like to still be close enough to hug you, please and thank you -- you can always come to us. And when you don't remember that, we'll remind you." Then, for good measure, Steve added, "I love you, bub."

"Love you, too," Luke exhaled deeply, as though he had truly forgotten. And maybe he had. But Steve meant what he said. When Luke gave his torso a squeeze, Steve knew that he remembered again. Remembered and believed him.

#a place to fall #jump then fall #those who fall #bonus #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x bucky barnes #marvel #fanfic #wattpad #ao3 #modern au #domestic life #fluff #smut #otp

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nancythebisexualslutwheeler · 4 years

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Tutor AU Pt 2

Part One Being Richie’s boyfriend is wild. He doesn’t have a lot of friends, but somehow everyone knows him. Triple B- Ben, Bev and Bill have no problem switching lunch tables to sit by Richie and Richie’s friends Stan and Mike. Though Eddie and Richie don't spend much time at the table, Richie usually sneaks out for a smoke break.

Eddie doesn’t smoke but always accompanies him, mostly because there tends to be a little kissing in between cigarettes. He never thought he’d be okay with that, but Richie makes him question everything.

***

Richie gives Eddie his leather jacket after a track meet. Eddie very pointedly doesn’t give it back. He sometimes sits in class with it, or in his bed late at night and tilts his nose into the fabric so he can smell Richie’s cologne. It’s just comforting, okay?

***

Since Richie can never set foot on Eddie’s street, Richie invites Eddie over for dinner. He’s not sure what to expect from Richie’s parents. Maggie is short and wide and wears her hair in a French braid and smiles so hard and so sincerely. Went is tall and thin and claps Eddie on the back at least three times.

She’d made spaghetti. Well, supervised, she said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well Richie’s the best chef in the house. He makes the sauce from scratch.”

“Oh wow! That’s...” he looks over at Richie whose cheeks are red.

His parents go upstairs, and they wash the dishes together and then sit on the couch. Richie turns on Netflix. They’ve barely finished an episode of NCIS when his phone starts ringing.

He pulls it out of his pocket and then walks over to the corner of the room near the patio door and answers it. Eddie hums a song in his head so he doesn’t eavesdrop.

“I’ve gotta go. Um, can you get home alright?” He asks, which is weird, he usually drives Eddie home.

Of course Eddie can take a hint, but Richie doesn’t offer any other information which is weird.

***

It’s not the last time it happens either. He cuts dates short or straight up blows off dates to accommodate whosoever number kept appearing on his phone.

***

Eddie is at the mall with his mom when he sees them. Richie is looking good as always in a Queen shirt and black jeans, even though it’s a warm fall day. He’s holding a toddler in his arms who can’t be more than two years old. Richie says hi, and Eddie’s mom stares.

“Eddie you know this, young man?” She grits out.

Richie’s eyes narrow before his face smoothes into a wide smile and he holds out a hand,

“Hello ma’am, yes Eddie tutors me in math. I’m not so good at it. I’m Richie Tozier.”

She stares at his hand until he retracts it,

“Oh, you’re Maggie’s son.”

His eyes narrow again and Eddie grabs his mom’s arm,

“Mom, let’s go.”

“I just knew-”

“Mom!”

She pulls her arm away,

“Eddie, I’m just saying,”

Richie’s body is pulled like a bow string and his face is daring her to say something.

“We’ve gotta go. Remember? New towels?”

“Fine.”

Eddie leads his mom away, as if if he lets go of her, she’ll go back and curse Richie to hell.

***

He doesn’t even think about the child again until he gets home when he texts Richie,

Eddie: You didn’t tell me you had another sister.

The response takes longer than normal. Usually Richie texts him back within seconds.

Richie: …. I don’t.

Eddie hesitates. They’ve only been dating about two months, but it feels like a lifetime. For Eddie at least. Well not a lifetime, but Eddie is falling hard. He tries to picture the child, but he had been so worried about his mom talking to Richie that he wasn’t even paying attention. The thing was that he heard about Maggie Tozier all the way home, and he hadn’t wanted that sort of wrath released on Richie.

Eddie: She’s… yours?

He hesitates before sending the message, before he finally does, right after he chooses to dial Richie’s number instead. It goes straight to voicemail.

Eddie: Really?

Richie: Nothing to say champ. We’re done.

Eddie: What? Why? What did I do?

He calls again. It goes to voicemail.

***

He knows it’s lame to ride his bike but his boyfriend, well okay the person he’s been dating, isn’t answering and there’s a whole lot that needs to be discussed. Like nine months worth of a lot.

He doesn’t expect Richie to answer the door with baby food stains on his shirt and arms. He looks just as freaked out to see Eddie. He quickly steps out and shuts the door halfway,

“What?”

“What do you mean what? You’re not answering my calls?”

“I’m a little busy,” he says rudely.

Eddie hesitates, Richie is intimidating, he is. But usually he’s so nice and kind that Eddie kind of forgets that he can come off as cold.

“You are my boyfriend right?” Eddie asks quietly, rocking back and forth on his feet.

Richie’s face softens,

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Then let me in and let’s talk about this.”

Talk about how Richie has a kid. A whole human being. Richie hesitates.

“I’m in the middle of something Eddie.”

Eddie knows he’s being desperate and clingy, but Richie had said they were done and that wasn’t okay with him,

“I’ll wait.”

Richie shifts from foot to foot,

“I don’t introduce people to her.”

Eddie nods, ready to apologize, but then Richie opens the door. Eddie can sense his hesitation, and the baby is crying. Not actively, but little hiccups and Richie strides over to the kitchen and immediately starts feeding her what Eddie assumes are the baby food version of carrots. She’s adorable, even with mashed food in her face and hair. She has dark blonde hair, her ears pierced and Richie’s blue eyes. Richie must be able to feel Eddie’s stare and he blushes,

“Well sit down.”

Eddie sits. Tries to remember any pregnant girls in their grade. Then in their school. There was a freshman, three juniors and a couple senior girls.

“Who?”

“Do you remember Wendy Miller?”

Wendy Miller was a blonde Barbie doll who switched schools at the end of last year, finishing her senior year somewhere else. Eddie feels a sting of jealousy, wondering how he’s supposed to compete with that.

“She’s beautiful,” Eddie offers instead.

“Thank you. Her name is Anastasia.”

“Big name for such a little girl.”

Richie bops her nose,

“She’ll grow into it.”

“I’ve never seen her before.”

Richie shrugs,

“I don’t introduce people to my kid.”

“It’s been two months.”

“Keeping track are we?” he teases.

“Richie, this is serious.”

“That’s why I said we’re done. There’s no,” He hesitates as Anastasia bangs the spoon on the tray of the high chair, flinging carrot residue everywhere, “I’m sorry, I should have told you. I was being selfish. I just wanted this to last.”

“Who says it can’t last?”

“You’re seventeen.”

“You’re nineteen!” he argues back.

“And I had eight months to prepare. I signed up for this. Wendy and I signed up for this. You didn’t.”

Eddie hesitates because Richie isn’t wrong.

“Do you have her full time?”

“We have 50/50 custody.”

“How old is she?”

“She’ll be a year next month.”

“That’s exciting.”

“I know! I can’t believe it. My mom is like, wanting to go to Disney World and I’m like calm down there Mags.”

Eddie laughs,

“Aw, and your sister likes her?”

“More now than when she didn’t sleep through the night.”

“Can’t blame her there.”

He can’t imagine Richie with a baby any smaller than this. The thought is almost incomprehensible. This is Richie. Who smokes cigarettes and is at every one of Eddie’s meets and didn’t graduate the first time. And he’s in charge of a whole human. Eddie isn’t trying to be judgemental but he doesn’t get why people aren’t more careful. Richie must see the judgment on his face because the smile disappears.

“You don’t have to be here,” he says harshly.

“No, I want to, I do. It’s just a lot.”

Richie shakes his head,

“Maybe you should go.”

“No, Richie please, I’m sorry,”

Richie stands up, and unstraps Anastasia before pulling her out,

“I need to give her a bath anyway. I’ll try to call you later.”

***

He doesn’t call. He doesn’t call Sunday, and he’s not in school on Monday.

***

Eddie doesn’t eat dinner on Saturday or Sunday, and his mom fawns after him the entire day, she doesn’t even go to church. Monday drags by and he calls Richie again, and it goes to voicemail, again.

***

He doesn’t even know if it’s worth it to go to by his house, so he invites Bev over instead. They’re sitting on Eddie’s bed eating pizza and ice cream with music playing in the background. His mom is at her book club, so as long as he hides the receipt and they eat on his freshly stripped bed, they should be okay.

“Richie wasn’t at school,” she points out. Like it’s just a random observation.

“Yeah I don’t know what that’s about,” he shrugs.

“But you do know something. Eddie what’s up?”

He takes a deep breath.

“Richie has a daughter. Her name is Anastasia. She’s really cute actually,”

“What the hell? A kid? Eddie, that's a huge deal.”

“I know,” Eddie moans.

“A whole kid?”

“No half a kid,” he rolls his eyes, “I think I upset him.”

“Upset him?” She screeches, “it’s been months! Did he even tell you? Eddie, this isn’t okay.”

“I know, I know, but I think I love him.”

“Oh honey.”

They don’t really talk about it after that.

***

If he’d thought Bev reacted badly, then Bill’s was terrible. They go for burgers on Wednesday after school. Richie still hasn’t been in school or answered his phone.

He’s just getting ready to drown himself in his brownie sundae when his phone dings.

Richie: hey can u come over

Eddie pauses and it sings again.

Richie: plz

Eddie quickly types out a response and Bill is like “Be careful Ed.”

***

Richie looks like shit. He smells like beer. He looks wrecked and Eddie’s defenses are up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Stasia’s been sick. It was just a cold and then she got a fever and it spiked. We were in the hospital last night- she, she’s fine, sorry I should have led with that. But I haven’t slept and I’m so tired and my heart hurts,” he’s breathing heavy and Eddie walks him to the couch.

***

After Richie says Anastasia is safe at home with her mom, and he eats a piece of peanut butter toast and drinks a glass of juice, he reaches for Eddie. He can tell Richie wants to cuddle, but he doesn’t know where they stand and he hesitates. But then Richie stares at him with his big old eyes and asks him if he will nap with him.

“I’m just so tired, but I can’t sleep. It was so scary Eds.”

Eddie pats his back,

“I’m sure it was. But she’s okay, yeah? It’ll be alright.”

So they go lay down and Richie is under the blanket and Eddie is over the blanket and Eddie kisses Richie’s forehead and holds his hand as he falls asleep. Richie looks like an angel when he’s asleep. His hair is a mess, he has freckles on his nose and he hasn’t shaved in a few days. Eddie plays on his phone for a while until Richie curls himself around him. Then he shuts off his phone and lays down. They find themselves tangled up together when Maggie knocks on the door a few hours later.

***

Eddie quickly leaves and Richie promises to call him. Eddie actually has to talk to his mother when he gets home and they eat another hotdish and spend another night talking about nothing. He showers and lays down, prepared to turn on the tv. Richie calls and they talk about Maggie freaking out about him sleeping over, and how Anastasia is doing. Eddie convinces Richie to come to school the next day and hang out with him after school. Which results in Eddie skipping a track meet.

***

Bill flips out and goes off on Richie at lunch. Eddie has never missed a track meet. Ever. He was extremely dedicated and needed a scholarship to get away from his mom.

“All I know is that he’s never missed a track meet before you. And he hasn’t been hanging out with us as much. You just want him at your beck and call while you use him for a notch in your belt!”

They haven’t even done more than makeout so he’s shocked that Bill has jumped to that conclusion. Eddie blushes, feeling embarrassed that his friends are making him seem like a child.

“He’s not just a warm body to me!”

Bill’s mouth twists,

“Is that what you tell them all? Is that what you told Wendy?”

Richie is out of his seat in a second, Mike jumps up and grabs his arm and Eddie is scared he’s going to start swinging. Ben is strong enough to hold Bill back but the two boys struggle. Tears spring to Eddie’s eyes and he pushes himself up from the table. He’s blinded by tears and he doesn’t know where he’s going, he just knows he has to get away from the yelling and fighting and suddenly he can’t breathe and he pulls his inhaler out of his pocket and sinks down against a locker.

Surprisingly it’s Mike who sinks down next to him. He can’t stop crying. Everyone’s right about him, he is a little, sick baby. Mike doesn’t touch him, just sits close to him.

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not, this is my fault!” he wails.

Mike shakes his head,

“No, Richie should have been upfront.”

“You knew?”

Mike looks at him confused,

“Yes. Richie has been my friend since we were in diapers. I’m Anastasia’s godfather.”

Eddie looks at him wide eyed,

“That’s a big responsibility.”

“Richie is like my brother.”

They sit quietly for a few minutes.

“He really likes you. I know he does.”

Eddie’s mouth twists to the side,

“If you say so.”

Mike looks up at him. He has such a serious face,

“I do. And if you like him, at all, I think you should give him a chance.”

“I know nothing about kids. I’m an only child and I have no cousins or anything.”

“He’ll teach you. And it’s not like he’s gonna throw you in to step-daddy, or even make you watch her. He will respect your boundaries.”

“We talking about the same Richie?”

Mike’s eyebrows raise, and that seems to be as much of a facial expression as he can muster.

“Sorry, I’m joking.”

“Does he not treat you well?”

Eddie starts shaking his head immediately,

“Of course he does!”

Mike gives him an exactly look.

***

Bill and Bev apologize but Richie still won’t answer his calls. He supposes it’s his turn again to show up unannounced.

Richie looks wrecked, again. He assumes Anastasia is still sick, but Richie looks happy to see him, even if it’s just a little. Eddie pulls Richie in for a hug and he buries his face in his neck. It’s been too long.

“Surprised to see you here,” Richie says, running a hand over his face.

“One day you’re gonna stop being surprised. I want to date you, stop trying to get rid of me.”

“Even with Anastasia? Because it’s going to be really hard,”

“If I start quoting The Notebook right now, will you punch me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well I want to try. More than try. Richie, I’m in love with you.”

He beams behind his glasses,

“I’m in love with you, Eddie spaghetti.”

“Oh god, is that a dad joke? It is, isn’t it?”

Richie just laughs harder and pulls Eddie against his chest in a hug, and Eddie tips his head up to kiss him softly.

#reddie #Reddie fan fiction #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #bill denbrough #Beverly marsh #mike hanlon #stanley uris #ben hanscom #it 2017 #it 2019 #my writing

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gerudospiriit · 5 years

Text

The Price of War

[Alright! As promised, I finally finished this little one shot. I’m fairly proud of it even if it is a little depressing. Plus I feel like I don’t write younger characters well rip. This was good practice at least!

BUT I like this overall! I hope you all enjoy it too!

(here’s the AO3 link in case it’s easier to read on that for you!)]

Nabooru grinned in triumph as yet another eight-year-old fell to her practice swords. Aveil cheered and clapped her hands as the girl brushed sand from her rump, muttering curses as she joined the group of her defeated peers. Before the younger girls had proven that the rumors of a true, up and coming five-year-old were in fact incredibly true, the two were practicing for their lesson the next day. Their instructor had threatened a test on form due to “too much giggling” during her lecture. And her glare at the two of them suggested would make their particular tasks far more taxing and difficult than the rest of the class. The quintet had approached them, spitting their snide remarks about the babies playing with their toys. Before Nabooru could respond, Aveil snapped right back, ensuring all of them that her best friend could make a fool out of all them.

“Yeah, and don’t come back!” Aveil shouted after them, throwing a wooden sword at their backs. “This girl will be...she’ll be slashing down armies by age nine!”

“Eight!” Nabooru corrected. “And don’t forget to tell your mommies about this! I’m sure they’ll be proud!”

“Right! Eight!” Aveil giggled and skipped over to pick up her chucked practice sword from the sand where it had fallen. She flipped her braid over her shoulder and blew a last raspberry at their retreating backs before sprinting back toward Nabooru. She tackled her to the ground and they tumbled in the sand, laughing as they wrestled.

A throat cleared above their heads, snapping a pair of gold eyes upward and halting their play. Nabooru released Aveil’s hair—she had been trying to make her eat sand while she pinned her down—and the two scrambled to their feet. Leader Yazu and her second in command, Bruvi, towered over the girls. Complete opposites and leaving most to wonder how they accomplished much of anything, Yazu watched the young Gerudo brush the sand off their limbs, clothes, and backs through kind, amber eyes that matched the gem on her forehead. She had braided her hair and twisted it into a bun at the crown of her head. Pink-painted lips were loose but neutrally set. A woman with a thin but powerful frame, she stood tall, hands behind her back.

Bruvi, on the other hand, regarded both girls with a scrunched nose that suggested she had smelled something rotten. Her red brows set low over her yellow eyes and her downturned lips convinced Nabooru of the worst (those tattletales! She should have hit them harder!), the sharp lines of her bob haircut that stopped precisely at defined cheekbones only accentuating the assumptions. She had a whole head of height on the Gerudo leader, and the definition of her muscles only further added to the intimidation she exuded on all within a fifty-meter radius.

Suddenly remembering their manners concerning the rank of their betters beneath the second’s harsh stare, Nabooru and Aveil bent forward in a quick bow and a speedy greeting of the two women. When they straightened again, Yazu offered them both a gentle smile, though Nabooru noticed it failed to reach her eyes. With the war, she noticed most of the older women could hardly manage a proper smile.

“Aveil?”

The two girls exchanged panicked glances before Aveil stepped forward. She bowed. “Th-That’s me, Exalted Leader Yazu. How can I...um...how can I...?”

“Don’t worry about formalities, vehvi.” Yazu held her hand out to her. “Can you come with us? Bruvi and I need to speak with.”

Nabooru’s heart thudded in her chest. What had those tattletales told the adults? In fairness, Aveil and herself had done nothing truly wrong. In fact, she felt they should be praised for taking extra steps to better their skills as warriors! She swallowed and shrugged as Aveil’s wide, panicked eyes landed on her again. She tried to smile, but it twisted more into a grimace.

Finally, Aveil rested her small hand in their leader’s with a nod. Her free hand dove in her pocket, the one part of her that could hide in that moment.

Nabooru attempted the smile again when Aveil looked back over her shoulder at her as they walked back toward the fortress. “I’ll see you at dinner! I’ll save you your usual seat!” she called after her. “Promise!”

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

Dinner passed with no sign of Aveil. Nabooru even waited until the mess hall nearly emptied and the cooks ushered her out so they could clean up for the next meal. Their shared room in the barracks stood empty, everything exactly as they had left it before leaving for their daily lessons. The blankets on Aveil’s bed remained neat and unruffled, her warrior doll perched on her pillow with her legs out in front of her. Nabooru worried that their fun had gotten Aveil into serious trouble. What if they exiled her? She had heard of that happening in the past. Would she be next?

She rested the plate of Aveil’s favorites next to her doll, knowing she would likely be hungry when she returned. Just as she retrieved her night clothes from beneath her pillow, a knock sounded on the wooden doorframe. Her heart jumped into her throat. Bruvi and Yazu had come for her now, she just knew it. Nabooru swallowed and slowly turned around, tiny fingers curling into her palms at her sides as she tried to still her shaking frame.

“C-come in,” she stuttered, eying the scarlet curtain over the door.

The face that appeared as the curtain opened, while neither the stern glare of Bruvi or the tender smile of Yazu, was one she knew better than any other. Her mother, Adena, pushed the curtain aside with the smile that never failed to soothe the young Gerudo in any situation. She had a demeanor warmer than the desert sun, and she was known for her devotion to her daughter and her people. Though she did not hold Elite status, her kindness and talent as the head seamstress earned her renown amongst the Gerudo.

“Mama? What are you doing down here?” Despite her questions, she accepted her mother’s open armed invitation, snuggling into her bosom when her feet left the floor in her warm embrace. “Aren’t you busy mending the army’s clothes and stuff?”

Adena pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead, laughing when she scrunched her nose at the affection. “Is my little warrior too tough for kisses so soon? I thought I still had a few years.”

Nabooru wiggled in protest as her mother squeezed her one last time before setting her feet back on the stone floor. “Did you see Aveil when you came down here?” she asked. “I...I think we might be in trouble again, and she didn’t come to dinner.”

The woman’s smile wavered. Her eyebrows then slackened as sadness filled her eyes. She perched herself neatly on the edge of Nabooru’s bed and patted the seat next to her. “Sit with me, little warrior.”

The morose set of her expression pumped the young Gerudo’s heart quicker, her stomach churning and threatening to eject her dinner. She sat with her mother, fiddling with the fabric of her pants. “Is it Aveil? Did they throw her out? We were just playing with those older girls, honest! They were saying we weren’t tough and--”

“Sh, it’s not about that, vehvi.” Adena untied her daughter’s hair from its high ponytail. She dusted the sand from it with one hand and grabbed her brush from the table between the beds. As she dragged it through Nabooru’s hair, she continued. “You met Aveil’s mother. Vanas?”

“The legendary Vanas,” the young Gerudo sighed. One of her idols. The only women able to fight even close to her skill were Bruvi and Yazu. “She’s our best general. Did she break a new record in a battle? How many did she take on her own this time?!”

Adena remained silent for several moments, the only sound in the room the bristles in Nabooru’s hair and the crackle of the flame of the candles. “She fought bravely, yes.”

“Fought?” Nabooru lifted her gaze to meet her mothers, noting the tears shining in the corners of her eyes. “Is she home, then? Did we...win?”

Replacing the brush on the table, Adena sighed a shuddering breath. “Vanas fell in battle, cut down from behind. Her entire company joined her or were taken prisoner.”

The widening of her daughter’s eyes forced her to snatch up her small hand. Only the luckiest of young Gerudo could shelter themselves from death. It plagued their people in the form of starvation, dehydration, the elements of their wasteland home, and battle. Young or old, it did not discriminate there. But the shock came for her in the form of her own dreams’ golden shimmer peeling away as no more than gold plating, revealing the price of the path she hoped to follow. A part of her always knew what could happen to her as a warrior for her people, but death by the sword in a glorious fight to the death appealed to her far more than waiting for something else to take her. But this war, especially news of their best fighter falling, even to another so cowardly as to attack from behind, reminded her that even the best could be bested.

Nabooru swiped at the tears that formed in her own eyes before burying her face in her mother’s side. She sobbed silently. For Vanas. For all the other Gerudo lost, the notably emptier mess hall and missing guard posts. For Aveil as she could hardly imagine how she felt.

“I wanted to tell you because this will be a hard time for Aveil,” Adena said, her voice hardly above a whisper as she rubbed her daughter’s back. “She’ll need your friendship more than ever, little warrior. It is hard losing your mother. Be there for her, but only discuss it when she wants, okay?”

Nabooru nodded against her side. “Can I see her?”

Adena remained silent for several moments before finally nodding. “I’ll take you down below. But you need to be quiet and respect the mourners.”

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

Nabooru had ventured into the depths of the fortress on more than one occasion, mostly ordered to complete some sort of chore or errand for a teacher or some other higher up. Down here, they maintained fewer torches, meaning the long halls were cast in shadow for stretches at a time with no windows for sunlight’s aid. Many of the rooms were used for storage—weapons, food and water rations, blankets, and any other odd or end one could think of—but the Gerudo utilized the largest chamber down a final flight of stairs as a crypt of sorts. A place to rest the bodies of the deceased and fallen on rows of raised daises until proper funeral rites could be performed and to give friends and family a place to mourn and say their final goodbyes in private.

Following her mother, they paused in the doorway. Adena raised the torch she held high, better illuminating the short case of stairs leading down to the crypt. Nabooru cast her gaze to the room before her, gripping her mother’s pant leg and hesitating to enter. The only other time she had entered this particular room in the fortress was on an errand to deliver a message to Zana, the head healer, whose mother had just passed to illness. This was before the war. Before bodies were carted down by the dozens, cut up or riddled with arrows. Thus, to see nearly every dais occupied with bodies—some uncovered that she recognized, others obscured by a white sheet with blood soaking through—shocked her when, before, she had only seen a few.

She swallowed and scanned the room, gaze finally resting on Aveil and her older sister, Kija, toward the back of the crypt. Their backs were to her, Kija’s arm around Aveil’s shuddering shoulders, the fourteen-year-old trying to keep her composure for her little sister. Nabooru glanced up at her mother, a nod of reassurance all she needed to descend and make her way across the room to her friend. She worried the ends of her hair as she passed mourners sobbing and thrown over the bodies of the loved ones or praying in trembling breaths for their trip beyond.

Nabooru took up the place next to Aveil silently, willing herself to look at the body of the fallen warrior. She looked as though she slept, her blades placed in her hands and crossed over her body as dictated a fallen warrior. Several cuts and bruises littered the woman’s form from her battles, but the puncture in her middle where the sword ran her through from the back sank her stomach like a stone despite the cleaning and mending the healers had done to make Vanas more presentable.

Kija nodded a greeting, her expression stony and verging on anger. With a sniff, Aveil wiped her teary eyes and drippy nose and cast her best friend a half-hearted smile. “H-hi, Nabs. I’m sorry I didn’t make it to dinner. Vai’na...” She trailed off as she glanced back at her mother again, lips trembling as she tried to hold back her tears.

“It’s okay. I...I heard...” She reached down and grabbed her friend’s hand. “I brought you dinner, though. In case you’re hungry. It’s on your bed. I even nabbed the last of the hydromelon for you.”

“Thanks.” she sniffed. “You’re the best.”

A length of silence fell between the three girls, the only sound the sobs of other mourners and the pop of Kija’s knuckles as she worried each one. Nabooru glanced her way, watching as her expression darkened gradually, and she worried her lower lip with her teeth. Was she angry about her mother’s death or how it happened?

Finally: “That’s it. I’m going. I have to.” Her sudden assertion drew the gaze of both younger girls to Kija. She rested her hand over one of her mother’s and squeezed. “Vai’na would want it. It’s my duty.”

“Wait, going where?” Aveil released Nabooru’s hand and rounded on her sister, eyes wide as she gazed up into her sibling’s resolute face. “Kija, what--?”

“Aveil.” Kija knelt down, bringing herself to eye level with Aveil and Nabooru. She rested her hands on her sister’s shoulders, forcing Aveil to hold her gaze. “While I’m away, I need you to promise me to train hard. Pay attention in class. Become the best warrior you possibly can and then push yourself harder. Can you do that?”

Aveil choked on her response, hot tears welling in her eyes and dripping down her cheeks and off her jaw. She stuttered over questioning her sister and trying to stop her from leaving. To where, Nabooru could only guess. She felt as though she had missed an integral part of the conversation, perhaps before her own mother escorted her down there. What would their mother want of Kija? What duty did she mean?

“I...I don’t...I...”

Kija shushed Aveil and pressed her forehead to the younger Gerudo’s for a brief moment. “Promise me. Learn to keep yourself safe. Alive.”

“I-I will. I promise, Kija.”

The elder Gerudo held her sister’s eyes for a long moment, the flicker of the torch near them casting grim shadows over each of their faces and brightening their gold eyes. Her thumb wiped Aveil’s tears, and she offered her sibling a sad smile. “Good. I know you will. You have vai’na’s genes in you, too.

“And you, Nabooru.” The sudden snap of her tone, the utterance of her own name, whipped Nabooru from her tumultuous thoughts of trying to work out what Kija meant and why it upset Aveil. She straightened and averted her attention unflinchingly at the elder Gerudo. “I’ve seen you fight. And I hear all the rumors and complaints by the girls even my age that you best.”

Nabooru puffed up in triumph; the praise from Kija was almost as good as if it came from her mother. Maybe even better than if it came from Yazu or Bruvi. Though she never got the chance to spar her yet, Nabooru knew Kija would put her through her paces far better than any of the other girls her age.

Kija squeezed Nabooru’s shoulders and refocused her. “Use that goddess-given and natural talent of yours. You train hard, too. I know it’s both of your ambitions to rise to Elite status and I expect you both to do it. Make a difference.” She snatched Aveil’s hand, stilling her. “Promise to protect my sister. Protect each other. There’s strength in comradery, in your friendship. Stick together and keep each other safe.”

Nabooru nodded, slow in her confusion. “Of course. She’s my best friend, Kija.”

“Good.” Kija pressed a kiss to her sister’s forehead and stood, returning Aveil’s embrace when the younger girl clung to her legs, sobbing. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back before the rites.”

The sisters clutched each other a moment longer before Kija released Aveil and strode back the way Nabooru had come. As she watched her back disappear beyond the doorframe, she felt Aveil patting her arm and struggling to find her hand. Nabooru grasped it again, feeling her shuddering frame as she tried to calm herself through merely holding her hand. “It’s alright, Aveil...you heard her. She’ll be back before you even miss her.” Her curiosity was too much, and she added, “Where’s she going, anyway?”

Aveil swallowed, her grip tightening on Nabooru’s hand. She lifted her forearm and wiped her eyes. “Hyrule,” she squeaked. “T-to get revenge for...for vai’na.”

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

Over the course of the next three days, Nabooru hardly saw Aveil. Excused from her classes for a few weeks to mourn, her friend only attended a few lessons. As a distraction is what she told the instructors who questioned her decision. Dark clouds of sadness dampened her usual perkiness, despite her efforts to feign normalcy in front of others. Nabooru did her best to keep their conversations on anything but her mother or sister: the latest gossip, how lessons went she didn’t attend, a joke or two, any good news she could glean about anything and everything to lighten her mood. She didn’t know if it really did any good. Aveil still skipped meals and spent much of her time either in the crypt or sitting on the ledge of the canyon, watching the entrance to the valley for even a sign of her sister’s return.

Word of Kija’s disappearance ignited the imaginations of the lower ranking Gerudo, each whispering more exaggerated than the last. Most assumed correctly in the motive behind her midnight ride, some saying she merely bribed the stable hands and guards at the gate to let her go by greasing their palms with some rupees while others got more creative, surmising that Kija tied up the stable hand and knocked the guards off the canyon wall and into the river below. Others said she ran off to the desert to try and get some blessing from the goddess that would make her stronger before attempting to exact her revenge on the Hylians.

None of the rumors interested Nabooru, the whispers and ridiculousness of them only irritating her in the end. Though most tried to curb their whisperings when Aveil was in earshot, she knew her friend heard how they talked, how some counted her last living relative among the dead. She hated it. It hurt Aveil to hear that, and it angered her. How could they know anything for sure? They weren’t out there!

She finished filling Aveil’s plate, brows lowering a degree with each word the pair of teens at a table behind her spoke. One had nearly incurred her wrath by mentioning that Kija’s disappearance suited them because it meant less competition for them. Her fingers tightened on ceramic, but she paused half turn, their words finally interesting her. She slowed her task, ears perked to catch each detail.

“--overheard Bruvi talking to Yazu before the Elite’s morning meeting. A messenger from the battlefront had delivered news. A bunch of warriors were taken prisoner by the Hylian forces. They said one was Kija, and she was covered in blood. She was worn out, but uninjured when they scooped her up, so it must’ve been someone else’s.”

Nabooru nearly dropped the plate. If the information came from Bruvi, it must be true. Captured. She could get away. Kija was clever and strong. There was no way the Hylians would keep her long. She would make it back before her mother’s rites in two days, just like she promised. She piled food faster, eager to tell Aveil the news.

The other girl whistled. “Prisoner they say. We all know that means they’re going to kill them. Likely after they...well, you know. I heard the Hylian soldiers have a real violent streak with Gerudo warriors...It’s disgusting...”

The young girl failed to hear any more of the conversation. Blood pulsed in her head and impaired her hearing as the excited flutter of her heart slowed to a near dead halt. She felt sick. That wasn’t right. Kija was supposed to come back. A hero who exacted her revenge on the rotten, coward of a dog that cut her mother down. They couldn’t kill her, they couldn’t.

Tossing another few cuts of meat on the plate, Nabooru staggered out of the mess hall, trying to keep herself from puking from the sudden nausea that washed over her. She rushed out of the fortress and to the valley, ignoring the greetings or questions of where she headed in such a rush. She needed to see Aveil. How would she be holding up if she had heard the news, too? She had promised Kija to take care of Aveil. She needed to be there for her.

She found Aveil perched on the canyon wall as she usually did the last few days, legs dangling over the edge as she diligently watched the valley entrance. Heaving, Nabooru reached her, struggling to catch her breath. “I brought...You dinner,” she said between breaths. She held out the plate when Aveil craned around to look up at her friend. A mixture of sadness and hope swam in her puffy eyes as she took the plate and nodded her thanks. “Thought you’d be hungry since you missed the noon meal.”

“Thanks, Nabs.” She set the plate to her left side as Nabooru took up the place on her right. “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.”

Nabooru worried a hole in the fabric of her pants, eyes darting from Aveil’s face, to the wooden plank allowing access to the valley, then back to her friend. “Have you heard anything? A-about your sister?”

Aveil sighed and shook her head. “No. Nothing yet. But I think that’s good, isn’t it?” For the first time since her mother’s passing, Nabooru heard a hint of elation in her friend’s voice. She hadn’t heard about Kija possibly taken prisoner, or of the fate she and the others would likely face. That hopeful lilt in her tone, the momentary gleam in her eyes...for a minute, Nabooru had her friend back. But, she needed to know the truth, didn’t she? She had been taught to be honest, and friends told each other everything. And yet...she couldn’t bring herself to tell her the dire news. To steal away even that smallest ounce of hope she had.

“She’s gonna come back. I know it,” Aveil went on, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “We may not have vai’na, but we’ll have each other.”

A beat of silence fell between them. Finally, Nabooru nodded with a smile of her own. “Yeah. She’ll be home before we know it. I can already hear all the stories she’ll tell.”

#legend of zelda #loz #ocarina of time #oot #pre oot #aveil #gerudo #nabooru #ganondorf #fanfiction #loz fanfiction #fanfic #loz fanfic

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welcometoyournewhell · 5 years

Text

A request from @whatislife1babydonthurtme, done in this format because Tumblr is being beyond stupid.

“Galtean Klance AU part 1! (this is a little long so I had to split it in two) So I like the headcanon that Alteans aren't ticklish, it's just not a part of their species. They have different physical definitions of sensitivity. So, an Alternate Universe where Lance is Altean and Keith is fully Galran, Lance isn't ticklish, but apparently the Galra are. Lance finds out about this on accident. He has no idea what the hell is happening and experiments on his fluffy boyfriend.”

“Galtean Klance AU part 2! So Keith, having been an orphan and not being used to physical contact, is so confused like wtf is happening to his body? Why is he laughing?? But he also weirdly enjoys it because it feels nice and it fills his body with butterflies and giddiness. And Lance is 200% serious like "why is this so funny to you? I don't get it." And Keith just laughs because he doesn't know the answer anyway.“

“Galtean Klance AU (part 3?? I forgot a small detail ; v ;) Afterwards, Keith tries to do it back on Lance, he pokes various spots on Lance's body but nothing happens and Keith is like (O___o) ??????????????”

___

A/N: Sorry about the delay, I honestly wasn’t liking how it was turning out. Also, Tumblr for some odd reason won’t allow copying and pasting without a lot of code when using the computer?? So to transfer the story from Google Docs took a bit of figuring out. I hope you enjoy!

It had been an arranged day like any other. The two princes had been engaged since childhood and had been growing up alongside each other to ensure a positive outcome.

As the wedding day came closer, Alfor demanded Keith spend the night at the castle. Adam was horrified and felt the fear of betrayal on it’s way. The Altean hybrid would be damned if his baby would be living with such a man.

Lance was fine, Coran was fine, Allura was fine, but Alfor? The man who played favorites among his children, the man who acted as if Lance was just property? Not a chance in hell.

As soon as word got out that Adam and Shiro, the young kings of a new Galran planet, had taken in a child…. the Altean king was at their doorstep with both children in arms in hopes of an alliance.

Allura was six, Lance was four, and Keith was five. The queen had been appalled. He was involved. But there was a problem. If Allura chose Lotor, she’s have to rule from Druel to carry old traditions, or disrespect her in-laws and stay on Altea, with out her husband.

If she chose Romelle, she’d stay and rule here. The was a problem that rested on Lance’s shoulders. If his sister left, he’d have to rule. His father would rather him leave the planet all together, but there were no more heirs.

But if Allura left, there would be war. The queen of the new Galran world wouldn’t let his baby be taken from him. Forced to marry young, forced to live somewhere else, not allowed to choose who he married?! The nerve!

But…. that was between the grown ups, and that was Allura’s stress. For now the seventeen-year-olds were having fun just spending time together. “Why do you tie your hair so tightly? Or is this Adam?” Lance was slowly massaging his boyfriend’s scalp after he undid the long braid.

Keith purred softly at the touch, blushing from the comment. “Adam was busy this morning and… it just didn’t feel like I did it right.” The younger prince giggled softly. “Maybe you should cut your hair?” He received a head turn, followed by a glare.

“I’m just saying, you kind of look like a chick!” The Galran prince sighed as he studied the wall before him again.“ All my people wear their hair like this.” He shivered as fingers brushed against the back of his neck. “Ture, but you have a doll face.” Unlike Shiro,

Keith didn’t have a tail. He couldn’t just playfully twack the other as his brother could. “Why is your bed so…. Squishy?” His best tactic was to change the subject. “Hm?”

The Altean examined his own bed. He was a bit confused, it wasn’t his fiancée's first time in his chamber… or on the bed. “You’ve never said anything before. It’s the same mattress I’ve had for years.” Keith nodded slowly. “It’s just… really… squishy.”

He squeezed it in emphasis, it puffed out in his hands as if he were squeezing his own thigh… but looser. “Well yeah… is yours not?” He’d have to fix that if they moved to Keith’s room. Honestly… Lance wanted to leave. He’d miss his home, he’d miss Coran, but he could visit.

But… he cared not for his government, for his father. Coran was his father, that’s all Lance cared about. “No. It’s firm…. Not… pudding.” The younger prince rolled his eyes at the comment.

They continued on in silence. As Lance finished, he draped the braid over the older’s shoulder before leaning forward and kissing the nape of his love’s neck. Keith jumped slightly before trying to look over at the other.

His fiancée refused to move as he boredly brushed his lips around the area. Purple eyes widened as nerves responded to the touch. Heat and laughter attempted to bubble to the surface before the male moved forward, covering his mouth.

“L-Lance!” The younger pulled back, sitting up. “Dude, I was just messing with you.” He didn’t mean to offend his boyfriend. “I.. I know but. It tickled,” he huffed. It what? Pencil thin brows lowered. “It… what?” Did he hear him correctly? “Huh?” Keith sat back up, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What did you say? You know?” He moved back forward to do the motion again against the side of the other’s neck. “Ack! H-Hey,” the attacked squeaked. He pushed his fiancée back some as he leaned back. “That, what was that? You called it something earlier.” Huh? Oh. The Galran processed before rubbing the area and sitting up again.

“I tickled,” Keith repeated. The Altean tilted his head. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d hit a language barrier. “What’s tickled?” The older prince blushed a bit more. “Um… well… it’s.” He took a breath. They both knew Keith was terrible at explaining things.

“Tickled is the past tense for something that tickles. Which is the feeling when someone runs their fingers or something over a sensitive, or ticklish body part? I don’t know. Curtis and Shiro said it was a nerve thing.”

Well… that didn’t help. He moved back against the large headboard before patting his lap. “Come, show me.” Sighing, Keith crawled over before awkwardly sitting by the other. “Um?” He wasn’t sure how to show Lance.

Should he… have Lance tickle him? Slowly, he took the other’s hand and placed it on his side. “I guess…. Just kind of move your hands? Like your fingers?” The other was a bit confused, but nodded. “Like… like this?” He just tapped them stiffly against the area. It wasn’t doing much.

“No… like… maybe a squeezing motion, it scratching… or wiggling?” Blue met purple at the last one. “Wiggling?” The fiancée nodded before putting his hand up. “Like this.” He demonstrated the motion. “Okay?” Lance shook his head a bit before trying it, and pulled back quickly at the response.

Keith squeaked before moving to the side. “What was that?!” His love had spazed out, an unholy noise escaped his lips! “It tickled,” Keith explained. “I’m really ticklish.” The Galran prince started giggling helplessly as both hands found his side.

The Altean was interested in this new discovery. He’d never seen anything like it. Apart from the snorts, wheezes, and unholy noises, the younger noted the action was making his love laugh.

“Sthahaop, L-Lhahance!” Fingers had decided to explore outwards. The soft tummy and back were under attack. Sure, the back earned a few giggles, but the tummy… The younger pulled back quickly to avoid the moving limbs, the scream escaping the other also scared him.

“What was that?!” Keith was giggling softly, arms covering his tummy as he curled up. “It tickled,” came the same reply. “That’s one of my worst spots!” He was talking as if Lance knew this information, as if he was talking to Adam.

The hybrid would tickle the younger as punishment, bonding, comfort, etc. Just typical parental things. He wasn’t expecting for his arms to be pulled away, and be turned onto his back in a quick motion. “L-Lance!” His mind was stuck back with Adam. His family were the only ones who could tickle him.

This was… a little odd? “I wanna do that again!” Child-like excitement filled the prince’s eyes. “What? Wait, no ,no, nahahao!” The Glaran’s head flew back as he squealed. His hands met the Altean’s as his energy weakened.

“Lahahance, stop it!” The other was amazed. He stopped quickly when the other cried out for air. “That’s really cool, and pretty cute. Who’d have thought a few touches were all that was needed to bring down the all-mighty, emo, edgey, Glaran prince?”

Keith huffed in annoyance before flipping the tables and pinning his boyfriend beneath him. “Really? Because in a minute I’m going to have you pleading for mercy!” Fingers dug into the prince’s sides, tummy, ribs, hell Keith even tried his fet. Nothing, not even a flinch. “What? How is it your… you of all people have to be ticklish!

“How is this possible?” The younger shrugged. “I’ve never seen that before honestly.” That’s when it hit Keith. During tickle fights between Shiro and Adam, Adam would always win. Shiro would mutter something about Alteans being immune to it. Though Adam was a hybrid, he could hardly feel the sensations.

“Damn it,” he sighed. The Altean prince looked up rather confused. “What's your issue?” Keith sighed before poking the exposed tummy. “Alteans aren’t ticklish… I just remembered.” Lance frowned before smirking.

“Oh but… I think you make up for it nicely. Come here!” The remainder of the night was filled with giggles and squeals as the prince educated himself more on the subject of tickling. Let’s just say… they didn’t wake up until past noon.

#hell answers #klance #dad squad #shuram #galara keith #altean lance #2019

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nancydrew65 · 5 years

Text

SKAM NL Season 2 Episode 4 Thoughts

This episode, like the last, was so different it was almost like a whole new episode. I was constantly surprised by each new clip.

I Hate Monday

Isa and Janna are studying for a German test they have that day, while Engel keeps furtively glancing at the school entrance. The girls joke about Engel’s fantastic pink sunglasses and their failure of a benefit. In order to cheer Engel up, they all crowd in for a group hug and peck Engel on the forehead. Ah, the Dutch girl squad is so cute. Also, Janna’s encouragement was beautiful. I want to see more of her and Engels’ relationship.

Liv receives a racy photo of Ralph that was clearly not meant for her.

Unsurprisingly, Engel is looking for Noah. Janna reveals that Noah was with a girl when he found out about his mother. I wonder who that girl could be? In the background of the conversation you can see a shot of Isa looking confused. You know this is the moment she pieces everything together.

Oh, Liv is giving Noah a call! She really is the sweetest Noora. Also, constantly calling and checking up on a boy is not the greatest way to send the message that you are not interested in him. Noah doesn’t pick up which is not the least bit surprising.

You’re the Girl Noah was With

I love how they had the time stamp in front of the huge heart, and then they cut to Liv. They do this again with the flowers at the funeral in the Friday clip.

Liv is doing homework when she is called to her balcony by Isa. Isa is there holding a massive blow-up heart. I love Isa and her friendship with Liv is everything. I think Isa, and the other Evas in general are so overlooked. They truly are fantastic, complex characters with hearts of gold.

Also, this has to be the cutest way an Eva has told a Noora she has found her out.

Liv is way less defensive than Noora was about the date. I thought it was a nice touch that Isa asked Liv how the date went. Like I never felt any of the girl squad ever interacted with William or really cared about Noora’s relationship with him (other than the drama with Vilde in the beginning).

Isa is the voice of reason, saying Liv should just tell Engel about the date. Of course, Liv decides not to. She asks Isa to keep the secret. I love how cool Isa is with it. She doesn’t push Liv or anything. She just calmly agrees to it.

He Doesn’t Reply

Liv is in the bathroom at school when she hears what sounds suspiciously like someone throwing up. Turns out Engel is in the stall and she says she has the stomach flu. Like, come on. We all know that is a lie. Oh, Engel. I really wish she wasn’t doing this to herself. Look, anyone developing an eating disorder is awful. But Engel is already so thin that it is almost worse.

As Liv braids Engel’s hair, Engel goes on a long talk about Noah and how awful his life is because his mother just died and his father doesn’t pay attention to him. I hope we don’t go too much into this because I feel like OG leaned way too heavily into tell not show, when it should be the opposite. I want this information to be revealed more naturally through the course of the storyline. Learn from OG’s mistakes, SKAM NL.

Yikes. We get this little interaction where Engel asks Liv not to tell the girls about her “stomach flu”. OK, I didn’t really like this scene. The whole point of the clip is revealed to be about Liv wondering how she should approach Noah. So, this whole scene emphasizes Liv’s feelings towards Noah, when it should be about how grave Engel’s eating disorder is. If this had been a short clip with an emphasis on Engel’s ED and then we got a separate clip about Liv’s conflict over Noah, I would have been happier.

Liv heads home to find her quiche has been eaten. There was a nice moment where Liv took out her headphones and was hit with the noise and commotion coming from the living room.

Jayden and Kes are playing video games while Lucas and Ralph are looking at Ralph’s phone. Ugh, the boys have made a mess of the living room. Liv shuts down the video game and puts out the joint Jayden is about to smoke. The boys complain about how much of a square she is and then leave. Liv is totally in the right in this scene, though. I mean, it is her apartment. They made a mess and ate her food. They should be groveling for her approval.

Then, we get such an amazing little scene. When they were on the couch, Lucas was helping Ralph check out guys on Grindr, and he was actually remarking about their relative cuteness. This is so different from how Isak was in that Season 3 scene where he didn’t want to remark on the boys Eakins was showing him on Grindr. I think overall, SKAM NL has given us hints that Lucas is more comfortable in his sexuality than Isak was, like with the scene in the cabin episode in Season 1 where he and Kes danced together. I do think he probably has the same issues with being stereotyped as gay like Isak did because there is this whole exchange where Lucas is like. “You call him cute, right? All you gays.” IDK, but I swear to god, if we don’t get a Lucas season, I will cry.

Liv storms off to her room. Ralph, being the loveable teddy bear he is, notices this and goes to talk to her. I think Ralph, overall, cares a lot more about Liv than Eskild did about Noora. Or else, he is more obvious about it. He shoves his phone in Lucas’ hand and you can see the shocked look on Lucas’ face. That must be an awkward situation. Like, without Ralph, he doesn’t really have a reason to be checking out Grindr, but you know he wants to.

Ralph asks Liv what is wrong, and then Esra joins them. She and Ralph had a were supposed to meet up. Liv confesses that she doesn’t know what to do about Noah. She doesn’t say this in so many words, but it is obvious who the conversation is about. Esra and Ralph give some pretty solid advice, just saying that there is no specific thing you can say to make everything better and that you just have to be there for that person.

I Could Sleep on the Couch

Liv heads to Noah’s house to talk to him and the funeral for his mom is going on. I’m not sure if Liv knew about the funeral, but I’m figuring she didn’t. If she knew, then Engel knew, and Engel most definitely would have shown up.

A lady guides Liv through the house. I can’t figure out how she is related to Noah. Is she his aunt? She is kind of comical; she compares the death of Noah’s mother to her dog dying, which… yeah, you shouldn’t do that.

Whew, they have an open casket. I really hate open caskets, but maybe that is just because I have had awful experiences with them. I just feel like the person is no longer themselves once they have died and so you’re just looking at a stranger who has been dolled up by the funeral people, so they look presentable… ugh, I just can’t stand it.

But, on another note, are we ever going to find out how Noah’s mom died? Because I feel like that is important.

Liv takes a piece of pound cake up to Noah’s room, and Hallelujah! Noah’s room reflects his personality. There are paintings strewn all over the messy room. I felt like we never got to know William’s personality or interests, and his room was basically bare, so we never knew anything about him, except his tragic backstory and the fact that he was in love with Noora. I am so glad SKAM NL is giving this character more than that.

Noah tells Liv his mother was crazy and that she left the family to live on a commune. Oooookay. What is with SKAM and crazy mothers? SKAM NL is the worst with this. So many characters on their show have messed up mothers: Lucas, Jayden, and now, Noah.

Noah kind of lashes out at Liv, saying he is tired of pursuing her. He tells her to leave. This is one of the only times I understand this move from a William. In most of the remakes, he has been constantly pursuing her, and then he says this line. At least her, Noah was reeling from his mother's death, so he is probably in a very emotional state.

Liv storms out, but promptly returns and parks herself on Noah’s couch. They sit side by side, just listening to music. I think several hours go by because suddenly, the light is different.

And wow. This is the most a Noora has wanted to stay the night at a William’s house. Ralph called her, and said he was at home to let her in. Liv just shuts that phone call down and pretends she has no way to get into her apartment.

Noah and Liv get into his bed. Right as that happens, Ralph texts Liv. Noah picks up her phone and reads the texts. Okay, but why did he look at her phone. In OG, it made more sense because it was his phone tha5 they were using to communicate with Eskild. Here, Noah took Liv’s phone and looked at it without permission. Hmmmm.

He teases Liv about liking him, and then they both go to bed.

General Thoughts

I enjoyed this episode, especially the last two clips. They were both so different from OG. Honestly, at this point, it hardly feels like I am watching a Noorhelm remake. Noah and Liv’s vibe is so different from Noora and William’s. Noah is the most unique version of William I think. For one, he mofe of a personality and he is also an artist, which is very different from the popular fuckboy attitude that William had. Liv seems way more into Noah than any other versions of her character have been at this point. I actually buy this because although Noah has still acted like a jerk sometimes, he is much better than William was. I bet next week, they will have their first kiss. I wonder how it will happen because I doubt Noah will hold a fundraiser. I am actually really excited. They are one of the only Noorhelm versions I can stomach together. It is really only this version and Druck. Alright then, until next week!

#skamnl #skam remakes #skam reaction

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vesperlionheart · 6 years

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“I know it’s already been arranged, but let me do this properly…Will you marry me?” Itasaku

They were grasping at the last lame stalks of wheat in a thrashing field, pretending that a unification wouldn’t mean her people would rise up in the year and set fire to the high walls with their blood. She could see it in their eyes as her palanquin passed through the streets. They would bow their heads and lower their teeth to the ground for a time, but they were as eager for the marriage as she was, which was not at all. If she didn’t murder her husband personally they’d burn her along with the rest of the invaders.

Sakura brushed aside the gold coins that dangled from her headpiece so that they didn’t fall in the way of her line of vision. She was a pretty doll made up in silks and rubies, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still a lioness in human skin. Her body itched for fighting leathers and a good shield.

The palanquin stilled and then lowered. The curtains were pulled aside and two servants reached in to help her out like she couldn’t do that on her own.

“You’re scowling, I can see it through the veil.”

Sakura glared sideways at her favorite. Ino grinned back.

“Smile, or at lease smooth out those frown lines. You’re not going to die from something like this.”

Sakura tried her best to lessen her glare but felt she was failing as the other servants ducked their chins and averted their gazes. “I was prepared for death, I was never prepared for this.”

Ino hummed, gathering up a section of her train and smoothing it out. “Yes, that’s an interesting problem, but I’m sure they requested you as a bride candidate for a reason over the others. Maybe they’ve had their fill of palace girls.”

“I am not here to satisfy their appetites.”

Ino was quiet for a moment before responding. “No, but you are here to protect your people, and I know you feel that they’ll rise up and revolt if you’re not there to lead them, but maybe there can be some peace between our people if they saw this as less of a sacrifice and more as a merger of forces.”

The pair turned up the grand front staircase of white stonework, carved and polished to blind the climbers. It only made the red of her dress stand out that much more as she climbed with only two others. Everyone else had to be left behind.

“I feel like a sacrifice.”

“You’re not. This was something both sides decided on for peace. Your people love you, but will you use their love to spark a rebellion for your own benefit, or theirs?”

The other servant opposite of Ino looked up hesitantly to watch Sakura’s expression beneath the veil, knowing no one else who could get away with speaking to their princess so bluntly. But, unlike her sisters, Sakura welcomed blunt speech, and readily rewarded those who were brave enough to share it with her. Few others dared.

“You’re an outsider, you wouldn’t understand the people’s pride,” Sakura sighed. “We’ve hated the Uchiha for years.”

“So too did the Senju, but look what happened there.”

“Hashirama Senju wanted to be friends and allies with Madara Uchiha. I’m being married off to a never before seen prince that’s likely just as much of a pig and brute as any of the others.”

Ino giggled and it sounded so much like when they were girls it made something in Sakura’s heart ache. “I don’t know,” Ino began. “I heard the Uchiha are famed for their handsome stock. Maybe you’ll actually enjoy whoever they have in mind for you.”

Sakura and her servants stopped outside the tall brass doors and felt the chill from the deepest parts of the palace not warmed by any sunbeam. It was summer, so she should have been thankful for the cool breeze, but Sakura couldn’t help but feel like a deer on alert, the way all the hairs on her body stood up.

“Here we go,” she breathed before pushing open the doors with her own two hands while servants and guards alike watched on.

It was the first of the traditions she would have to complete over the next few days before the man they picked for her could say he was her husband. And just like she had traditions to complete and see finished, he too would have to perform her rituals.

The doors opened wide and in the hall polished marble gleamed with veins of gray and pearl. The far walls were hung with tapestries as low pillows and couches were set about for the court to recline on, sipping at their wine while idle eyes took all of her in and found her lacking.

‘Not an Uchiha.’ That’s all it took.

The elder king, an old wrinkled man that had once decimated armies in a single nightfall, stood from his throne and grinned, clapping his hands together. “You’ve come unharmed and without delay. I am glad to see it,” Madara cheered.

The court began to murmur with excitement, feeding off the old king’s joy. There was something more to his words that Sakura wasn’t getting. Still, she clasped her arms over her chest, touching her fingers to each opposite shoulder, and sank into a bow that didn’t belong to either the male or females of her people, but was a mixture of both. He wouldn’t know any better.

“Of course, Glorious One, it is as you say, I did not wish to spare any delay in our meeting.” When Sakura rose from her bow she was proud of how blank she had made her face and how even her words came out. “I am eager to bind our peoples together in a union stronger than all others.”

“I’m excited for what this means. You traveled a long way. Would you not rather rest for the rest of the day?” He asked because he had to, but Sakura could tell his smile was too eager for her to risk refusing.

“I am well rested enough. Please don’t hold back on my account.”

“Here then,” he boomed, throwing his arms wide. “My grandsons are eager as well to see who you will be matched with.”

Sakura hesitated, feeling off balance for a moment. It sounded like they hadn’t picked someone for her. What would that mean for her?

There were more whispers than ever, as nobels leaned far over to speak with one another, sharing their thoughts on the matter. She strained to hear, but none of their words made sense.

A man came out from behind a curtain hanging down over the main dais. He carried a long wooden box with hurried authority, stopping in front of her to raise the lid and tilt it towards her. Inside Sakura saw four different items laid into velvet cushions.

“The first of your traditions, you must choose your betrothed using the old ways,” Madara boomed. “Each of my grandsons who are free and willing have put something of theirs into the box, hoping to attract your eye. Let your heart guide you here.”

Sakura kept her face unchanged. It was an old and pointless tradition, because it didn’t matter who she ended up marrying. One prince was just as good as the next and it wasn’t like she even knew anything about her choices. For all she knew one of them could have warts all over his face while the next was the size of two men in girth. Lucky her.

Sakura took a step forward and peered inside the box. There was a diamond as big as her fist, dazzling and bright in one corner. The next item was the iridescent aqua feather of the rare blue falcon, a near mythical creature with feathers worth their weight ten times over in gold. The third item was a Palace Ring, a heavy gold band to wear on one’s finger with a miniature castle cast in glass. The wearer of such a ring was the rightful owner of the castle or territory it depicted. Each gift was a bit more elaborate than the next and it made her a little upset to see how wasteful they could be before they even knew her.

She glanced up from under her lashes to the raised platform where Madara watched. Behind him the silks hung down and obscured the rest of his royal family from view, but Sakura could still make out shadows. One of the four figures had stood up and was leaning forward, trying to see better. Another boy yanked him back down and Sakura saw them turn to each other and hiss in whispers. One of the four figures looked bored, slouching in his seat, and the last sat like a princess would, quiet and still.

The last object in the box was a small book, bound by hand. Sakura turned the front cover over with her finger to peer inside and smelled the cherry blossoms before she saw them. Inside the book were pressed flowers and poems, all written in the same hand. Sakura read the first one and then flipped the page to the next one. She heard the murmurs all around her but paid them no mind.

“Has the lady made her choice?” Madara called down to her, sounding far too delighted for his own good.

Sakura let the book close again and then picked it up out of the box. She heard someone make a sound of frustration behind the silk and a young woman off to the side nearly cried when she saw the book in Sakura’s hand. Several others laughed at how she had taken the least of all the gifts and another sounded pitying.

‘The sick one,’ she heard someone say and then there was mote snickering. Maybe someone else said something about a mismatch, but she paid them no more mind.

“I have,” Sakura answered calmly.

Madara chuckled and beckoned for a servant to pull back the silks and let the young princes be finally seen. There wasn’t much to distinguish one from the other, they all had the same black hair and eyes and pale skin. The first one had his hair cut short to show off the scars on one half of his face, the second was tall and thin with curly hair and an out of place smile. The next one looked younger than the rest and he didn’t bother hiding his scowl. The last one looked even more like a princess now that she saw him and not just his shadow. His face was smooth and clear and paler than the others with only minimal signs of stress under his eyes. His hair was neatly braided and pulled over his shoulder like a tail of silk. The last prince stepped forward to stand beside Madara.

“I would like to introduce you to one of my most promising grandsons, Itachi Uchiha.”

Sakura lowered herself into a curtsy to match his bow.

“The pleasure is mine,” she murmured, keeping his book of poems close to her chest.

Sakura eventually learned the names of the other princes the way a commander memorized the names of mountains. She didn’t want to, but she did so because it made survival easier.

Obito wanted nothing to do with her and she figured it had something to do with his history as a general in the military during the times their countries had been at war.

The youngest of the group was Sasuke, Itachi’s sullen younger brother who eventually put in the effort to get to know her. She could tell he looked up to Itachi a great deal and was loathed to share any of his attention with an outsider.

Shisui was the one Sasuke had to pull back down into his seat that day. He was the least Uchiha like of all his relatives and Sakura almost found herselt relaxing around his disarming smile, until she realized that’s what he wanted.

It didn’t take long for her to realize what the whispers meant when they referred to Itachi as ‘the sick one.’ Itachi had poor lungs and could not join in with the games and activities his brothers and cousins enjoyed so much. He was medicated each day by a unique servant, and kept out of the sun least it diminish his energies even more.

But he was soft and kind and unendingly gentle around her. She woke up to fresh cut flowers by her bed every morning, always different, always beautiful. Sometimes there were notes of poetry tied around the stalks and she recognized the handwriting from her own book of poetry.

“You were lucky,” Ino whispered one morning, pointing out the window to where the boys were swimming in the pools between the gardens. There was plenty of shade and a day off from the politics, so several young princes had decided to go ‘fishing’ in the pools, only to end up soaked and swimming.

“Why, because I didn’t pick Obito? He’d have killed me in my sleep by now I think,” Sakura grumbled without looking up from her book.They had plenty of things for her to read at the palace, and she thought that almost made up for the fact that she was little better than a political hostage in a wedding dress.

“Nah, nah, not that,” Ino absently muttered, eyes transfixed.

There was no further explanation but Sakura heard the splashing and laughter from downstairs. A moment later Sakura closed her book in frustration and stood up to look out and see what it was that had her favorite so enthralled.

The three youngest princes were wading through the waters, splashing each other or drifting on the surface, something Itachi could do without straining himself. A couple of palace servants stood off to the side holding robes and sandals for once the boys finished.

A beat later Sakura realized what had her friend so transfixed.

“Ino…they’re not….wearing anything.”

“Yeah.”

Sakura swallowed and quickly ducked away before she could be spotted at the window. Suddenly she was the one having a hard time breathing. There were places she could go that had no princes to make her brain do the panicking thing.

“Haruno.”

Sakura stopped in the halls and turned back to see Shisui’s father, Kagami Uchiha. Like his son he was a carefree Uchiha with more smiles than he knew what to do with. He had taken a shine to her even though she hadn’t picked his son like he thought she would. He was the only one who still called her by her old name even though she officially hadn’t married Itachi. They were waiting for the next lunar cycle to follow tradition.

“You seem to be in a hurry, where are you headed to with such swift steps?” he teased, offering her his hand.

She took his hand and wound her arm around his. “You catch me at the worst times, Kagami. I had been hoping to sneak into the stables. Will you keep me from my mischievous ways?”

“I may not be able to keep my son in check, but you’re far less difficult to speak reason into. You are not dressed for riding but I will offer you a turn in my carriage if you so choose. The plan was to go hunting but a little sightseeing-”

“Hunting!” Sakura exclaimed, eyes bright. “Take me with you. I’ll be a silent as the fox.”

He looked up over her head and his smile seemed to sag. “I think that maybe someone else might like to steal your attentions away. Another time, princess.”

He slipped his arm free and Sakura turned to see Itachi at the end of the hall, dressed in damp robes and looking sheepish. His hair was still wet and draped over one shoulder, no longer held in a braid. Sakura sighed loudly and turned down the hall to approach him.

“Look at this, soaked silly. Did you fall in or is this how you fish in your country?” she teased, stopping just shy of his arm’s reach.

Itachi’s smile was slow but spreading steadily across his face as he looked back at her. “It’s a good enough day for a swim. You should have joined us.”

Sakura felt her eyebrows shoot straight up. “Really? You would have wanted me there for this?” she asked, tugging on a wet strand of his bangs.

“I’m sure you would have enjoyed yourself,” he said.

“Your brother and cousin were both there.”

“So?”

Sakura felt her ears burn. “Don’t make me say it,” she groaned even as she felt him draw closer. When she opened her eyes he had closed the distance and stood with his nose bent towards her forehead, close enough for his lips to reach her.

“I was right, that was you in the window,” he chuckled, smelling like eucalyptus.

“Only for a moment! Why do you think I’m down here in the halls, trying to slip away? I tried pulling my servant away and gave up, unwilling to subject myself to the sight any longer.”

He laughed, bending his head down into her hair where she heard him inhale once before pulling back. “Can I steal you away then? To the gardens?”

There was no way she would be able to get out of the palace for a break on her own, and the stables had been a long shot to begin with.

“I have nothing better to do, my prince.”

Itachi grinned, taking her arms and folding it over his before leading her to the gardens by the empty poolside. Sakura made a joke under her breath about being scarred by the sight of his brother and cousin, but that only made him laugh.

“What about me?” She felt his thumb rub circles into the back of her hand as he led her to where a stone bench sat under the heavy palm branches.

“I am nothing but faithful, naturally. I’ll never complain about having to see your junk,” she chuckled, feeling a bit too giddy for what she thought she deserved. She couldn’t help but enjoy teasing Itachi.

“I apologize for not inspiring more anticipation for our wedding night.”

Itachi sat down alongside her and took her hand with both of his, kissing the back of her knuckles once before holding her hand on his lap. Sakura followed his line of sight and saw a pair of red and green parrots from a land far wetter than theirs. The birds sat high up in the trees before taking off in a brilliant show of color.

“You enjoy birds?” Sakura asked, seeing his soft smile once more.

“I do, but not as much as my brother who raises them. He is the one with the falcons you see sometimes, circling the palace. I’m sure he would be willing to show you the mews where the birds are kept. They are his pride.”

Sakura nodded slowly, thinking something through. “Was his gift the bird feather?” she asked a moment later. When Itachi didn’t respond right away she looked back over her shoulder at him and hummed in understanding. “It was, wasn’t it. What’s the matter?”

She felt his thumb go back to tracing circles in her skin. “He might be a little upset with me still, that my silly poems were chosen over his great accomplishment. Both he and Shisui had been so sure of themselves.”

“You weren’t?”

“Hopeful isn’t the same as confident.” Itachi glanced up at her from under his lashes and then bowed his head again to rest on her shoulder. “Shisui conquered whole territories, so castles were his to give. Obito is rich from his own conquests but didn’t even care if he won or lost the choosing ceremony. Sasuke adventured for his prize and was so proud for how rare and beautiful it was.” Itachi lifted his head and looked her fully in the eye. “Why did you pick my book? Was it-it wasn’t just random, was it?”

Sakura thought it over, considering her words more carefully as she saw the look in his eyes. It was an old look she hated to recognize. He didn’t say it, but she knew he was thinking it; ‘Do you regret your choice?’

“When I came here, I had it in my head that this was a doomed venture, and that it would all end in flames before the year was up, partly because of how hard my heart was. I didn’t think I could happily go along with anything. I didn’t look forward to any of this.”

She felt his hands holding hers tighten but he didn’t say anything. He kept silent and listened.

“When it came to the choosing, I didn’t know what to think. I thought they would have just chosen someone for me and I’d have no say in it. It was surprising. When he opened the lid to that box I was curious but I didn’t think I’d care one way or the other. They were just gifts I’d never use or appreciate beyond being a fancy decoration. But your gift was handmade so I was interested.”

“Just interested?”

Sakura shushed him, reaching up with her free hand to bop his face. “Yes, interested. Do you remember what you put in between the first few pages?”

“A Cherry Blossom, your namesake.”

“It was the only gift that felt like it was meant for me, that felt like the person preparing the gift actually thought about me as a person and not a hostage. And I thought, huh, maybe this is a person I might actually grow to like if he put in the effort to know my name at least. That, and I remember your words from the first poem even to this day.”

Sakura stood and crossed in front of Itachi reaching for both his hands to hold in hers as she stared down into his eyes. She leaned in and touched her forehead to his and closed her eyes.

“Deep in the ocean, dead and cast away where innocences burn in flames a million mile from home, I’m walking ahead I’m frozen to the bones, but I am a soldier on my own.”

Itachi sucked in a breath and dared to look up but Sakura caught his lips in hers, earning a moan and fluttering lashes as he melted for her.

When she pulled away she heard his voice murmur the rest of the poem. “I am a million mile from home, I’m walking away I can’t remind your eyes, your face from the dawn of time to the end of days I will have to run, away I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste Of the blood on my lips, again.”

“I don’t regret my choice,” Sakura whispered.

Itachi tugged on her arms and stood, only to end up kneeling at her side. He touched his forehead to her navel, a promise to be there for all her children. When he looked up his eyes were glassy but bright.

“I know it’s already been arranged, but let me do this properly…Will you marry me?”

*Poem is actually from the song Iron by Woodkid off the The Golden Age that I’ve been listening to while writing this. Well worth the listen.

#Itasaku #Sakura #Itachi #my writing #fanfiction

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cocojimin · 6 years

Text

Not So Terrible Twos

Mornings were when the house was starkly quiet. The only audible noises were the sleeping sounds of your family and the hum of the appliances in your home. This usually lasted until 9 o’clock in the morning when Duke would wake up and the jingling of his collar could be heard. You were always the first person awake,it was just a habit for you.

You rub your eyes and turn over to see your two favorite boys cuddling. Your heart lurched in your chest seeing this beautiful sight before you,taking a quick picture so you can hold onto this moment forever. Today was Calum’s first completely free day since the boys have started writing another album.

You quietly slipped down the white carpeted stairs and into the kitchen,deciding on making your boys a nice breakfast. Waffles,bacon and some fruit sounded good. Starting to prepare the waffle batter and heat the iron,you heard a timid voice call down the stairs.

“Mumma? I’m ‘wake” Jaxon whispered,making you grin at the fact that your baby boy always followed instructions. You told him that when the baby gate was open,he always had to ask you to get him so he doesn’t hurt himself. Grabbing his dainty golden hand,you waltzed him down the stairs,letting him roam to his playroom.

“Bubby,is Daddy awake?” “No,Daddy eyes still closed.” You chuckled knowing Calum would be sleeping in on his off day. That man worked to hard for hours on end so you knew not to bother him in his precious resting time.

The food was prepared and kept warm as you retrieved your bouncing son. Jaxon was led upstairs to his room and quickly changed into his lounge wear as you had no plans,just wanting to get him out of his pajamas. His pull up was discarded and he put on his ‘big boy pants like daddy’.

Soft grey jogging pants and a snug white shirt adorned the baby boy as comfortable socks were slipped on his feet. His two braids were taken down and his hair was combed out,his curls bouncing blooming with every brush stroke. Down the stairs you two went and to Jaxons high chair. You strapped him in and placed his warm food in front of him with a sippy cup with orange juice.

The television was cut on and turned to his favorite show: Spongebob Squarepants. You would be lying if you said this wasn’t the household favorite. Soon,you came to the conclusion that you had to wake your exhausted husband up. 10 am was fairly late and you were positive that his stomach was grumbling from hunger.

This moment is always the worst part for you. You hated waking him up out of his needed sleep,but you had no other option.

Underneath a thin duvet laid Calum,sprawled out on the mattress with light snores leaving his parted lips. The light cut through the gap in the curtains and illuminated his tanned skin,the black ink of the countless tattoos being brought to life against the sunshine. This lightning pointed out this flawless aura of your husband as a hand gently brushed back his black curls. He looked more youthful when he slept,almost childlike.

Jaxon was a spitting image of his father,a bright eyed brown boy with luscious curls and a smile to die for. Calum stirred away,gently fluttering his thick eyelashes before his hazy gaze laid on you.

A smile flashed onto his face as he let out a yawn and started to stretch,groaning with the crackle of his bones. He knew why you were waking him,hell he could smell why you were waking him. His toned legs swung out of the bed as his full frame stood up straight.

“Mm,good morning dollface,” Calum said as he wrapped his arms around you and indulged in your scent. “I made breakfast Cal,Jax is downstairs waiting for you,” you said with a smile,watching Calum untangle himself from you and rush downstairs leaving his posterior in your view.

“Oh Bubba,” “Daddy,m-morning.” Jaxon was chewing a piece of bacon as he wiggles around in his chair,silently begging Calum to hold him.

Sitting down to eat,Calum unclipped Jaxon from his seat and sat him on his lap. The three of you ate in silence,paying attention to the yellow sponge gracing your flatscreen.

“Doll,how do you feel about Ash coming over for a bit?” “Oh that’s great,I’ve missed my ‘momosa’ buddy.” A giggle left your lips as you recalled Ashton being the only one to partake in your Mimosa hybrids when you were pregnant.

You got the idea off of Instagram and needed somebody to test out the recipes for the non-alcoholic treat. Ashton was walking out of the game room from playing Call of Duty with Calum when he saw you furrowing your brow at the concoction.

“Hey Y/N,Whatcha making?” Ashton didn’t even let you answer before his large hand wrapped around the glass,taking a large gulp. “Damn! This is really good!” “It’s called a ‘Momosa’,Mimosa for pregnant women like myself,” hand subconsciously rubbing your protruding belly.

You spent the next hour whipping up different flavors of the drink with Ashton by your side doing the taste testing. It was always nice to have a companion around while your other girlfriends were busy. Him and Calum were bestfriends and it only made sense that he would be the godfather to your unborn child. You decided on Ash after you noticed how responsible he was with the arrival of the new addition looming. He would come over to help paint the nursery,build the furniture with Calum,watch after you when Calum had to run errands,He even went to a fatherhood class with Calum.

Jaxon became giddy after hearing the name of his lovely godfather fall from his fathers lips. Jaxon and Ashtons love was undeniable. He was the first to hold Jax after the two of you,and he shed a tear looking at his godson. He would spoil the little Hood every chance he got,coming over with clothes,toys,or books to share with the baby.

The kitchen was tidied up as Calum let Ashton know to be on his way. Jaxon was running around the family room with Duke when Ash came through the front door,seeing as he has a spare key.

“Well hello family!”

“Hey Ash,” You said as Jax squealed and ran right into Ashton’s direction. Ashton scooped the boy up before he ran into his legs.

A smirk was shared between the two men before Ash came and gave you a half bear hug,telling you he’s missed hanging around your house. You get suspicious as he takes Jax upstairs and into his room,telling him to pack himself a small bag.

“Calum are you being sneaky again?”

“No! Me? Never doll,you have the wrong person.” Ashton come down the stairs with Jax,a small grey hoodie to match his joggers zipped up on his chest and his small white high top converse on his baby feet. His special made black book bag with his name sew into the front pocket and patches adorning it was on his tiny shoulders.

“And where do you two think your going?”

“Well if you may know,I’m taking him to get some ice cream then we’re gonna swing by Luke’s place and have a little sleepover,”

Ash flashed you a bright and innocent smile making you cross your arms and look between the three boys in your presence.

“I just knew there was something up,” dropping to your knees,you fixed Jaxon’s outfit,giving his cubby face an abundance of kisses before tugging him into a big hug. “Bye Mumma,bye Daddy,Ill see you later,” Jax hugged you back,placing a kiss on your nose before going over to Cal and doing the same.

Ash and Jax left the house and it was your turn to pester Cal with questions. Before you could do that though,his large hands were in your waist and his lips found yours.

The passion behind the kiss was dizzying and his hands roaming your body was blissful. He wanted to get Jaxon out of the house for a long overdue night filled with lust and love. The bedroom door was flung up by the heel of Calum’s foot as he carried you bridal style,lips on your neck and your hands in his hair. You silently thanked the heavens for the best godfather ever seeing as your night with Calum had just begun.

Terrible Twos

Masterlist

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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 6 years

Text

Trinkets, Worthless, 8: These trinket are garbage plain and simple. They would be termed vendor trash or junk loot in video games. They aren’t touched by stray magic or mystery as with regular trinkets, aren’t made from valuable materials and aren’t particularly useful even if they aren’t damaged.

A box of odd beads that bear no resemblance to eyes, yet always seem to watch the nearest creature.

A wanted poster that bears the face of a terrified elf. The reward is not listed.

A bright orange, ceramic throwing star that will always miss its target.

A small pair of scissors that only cut eyebrow hair.

A glass bottle filled with multiple layers of differently-colored sand.

A dried leaf that is entirely unaffected by any sort of natural wind or breeze.

A shirt button that changes shape every day.

A map with vague directions to an abandoned gnome's house.

A small wooden box that contains a single, worn thimble.

A 1’ x 2’ sheet of white canvas upon which the words “SUFFERING IS NOT ART!” are written and underlined in blood.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A box of odd beads that bear no resemblance to eyes, yet always seem to watch the nearest creature.

A wanted poster that bears the face of a terrified elf. The reward is not listed.

A bright orange, ceramic throwing star that will always miss its target.

A small pair of scissors that only cut eyebrow hair.

A glass bottle filled with multiple layers of differently-colored sand.

A dried leaf that is entirely unaffected by any sort of natural wind or breeze.

A shirt button that changes shape every day.

A map with vague directions to an abandoned gnome's house.

A small wooden box that contains a single, worn thimble.

A 1’ x 2’ sheet of white canvas upon which the words “SUFFERING IS NOT ART!” are written and underlined in blood.

A mouthpiece for an unknown musical instrument.

A single newt's eye in a glass jar.

A small jar of nails that can only be driven by a glass hammerhead.

A small jar of glass nails that can only be driven by a cold iron hammerhead.

A sword scabbard that's filled to the brim with tiny wooden swords.

A fine, leather pouch that contains exactly 248 smooth stone pebbles.

A thin sheet of cooking paper that's been folded into a swan.

A decaying wooden knife inscribed by a child that reads "The Ultimate Blade of Destruction".

An old doll wooden doll in rotting knit clothing. The doll's eyes seem to follow the creature closest to it and people who sleep near it regularly suffer from nightmares

A sickly green humanoid bone.

An odd metal cog that spins on its own every so often.

A small wooden carving that depicts a naked goblin scratching his hindquarters.

A small dull dagger that refuses to sharpen.

A rusted coin that slowly absorbs oil it comes into contact with.

A long letter of complaint addressed to a school teacher criticizing his methods and general personality.

A glass jar containing a dozen folded paper frogs.

A small jar of hard candies that taste of sour apples and never seems to go bad.

A small doll with a cloak and toy dagger attached. On the back of the doll, the letters "TDG" are written.

A drinking horn with an odd rune carved on it.

A tiny pink bottle that smells of roses when it is empty.

A wooden carving of an orc doing a handstand.

A small twig that doubles as the perfect toothpick, no matter who uses it.

A gnome's hair brush.

A small painting of a horse's rear end.

A cork for an old wine bottle that won't fit in any other bottle.

A small pot of horse glue that says “NOT FOOD, SERIOUSLY” on the side.

A bamboo scroll tube containing a legal and notarized deed for a house whose address doesn't exist.

A dagger made of folded parchment, that could at best give someone a paper cut.

A wooden box containing twelve matching pieces of broccoli that have somehow remained fresh.

A bar of soap that smells like rotten meat.

A key that breaks the first time it’s used in a lock. To add insult to injury, it doesn't open the lock.

A tin of makeup that's just the most absurd shade of orange.

A magically preserved apple that tastes like an orange.

A letter from an unknown sender that simply reads, “I told you so!”. The return address is plainly labeled “Feywild”.

An undersized wooden backscratcher, for use by gnomes.

A tattered blacksmith cap full of red dwarf hair.

A small roll of leather that's been cured with giant urine.

The hollowed-out shell of a large hermit crab.

A crudely made treasure map that leads to a beggar's dandelion garden.

A small blue stone that feels like silk to the touch.

A pocket multitool with only one tool remaining in it. The remaining tool is a magnifying glass that has the words "Find the rest of me." inscribed on it.

A wooden scroll case filled with fine ash. The top of the lid sports a tiny iron spike that may have triggered some sort of combustable trap.

A fist sized bar of harsh lye soap

A homemade pan flute consisting of a dozen reeds of gradually increasing length held together by vines and dried grasses. Despite its crude origins it plays quite nicely

A dog muzzle made out of leather and steel with adjustable straps that allow it to fit most medium and large canines.

A brown leather hawk's hood that's used to keep the birds docile during periods when they are not hunting or resting.

A ceremonial headdress of similar make to one of the local barbarian tribes, with the exception that it is made entirely out of steel wiring and tin spoons. You’re not sure if this is some sort of artistic interpretation, strange inside joke or weird form of insult.

A preserved, hollowed out corpse of a Flumphling stuffed with sage.

A metal flask containing a thick concoction that smells dark and musty, like a forest after heavy rains.

An unremarkable spoon fashioned from horn.

A thick, heavily padded leather and burlap sleeve made to fit over the bearer's arm and serves as a target for animals being trained to attack.

A sealed one gallon cask of Bufo, a favorite drink of goblins, boggards, and other primitive humanoids. It is made by soaking a poisonous toad or frog (Or its eggs) in weak beer or by “milking” these animals for their poison and mixing it with the beer (Allows the animal to be used repeatedly). Some tribes use wide-mouthed jugs and leave the dead animal inside as a crunchy treat for eating once the drink is gone.

A sealed one gallon cask of luglurch ale. This pale frothy beer is found by most races to be too salty to swallow, with the exception of halfings who find it an acquired taste

A clockwork blue bird that emits a horrendous screeching sound when it is wound up.

A musty smelling, threadbare, grey towel that never completely dries. If someone attempts to dry themselves with it, they will develop a mildewy smell exactly like the towel until the creature takes bathes and dries off with a proper towel.

A purple ring box that croaks like a frog when opened. It is lined with lime green satin on the inside and smells of a swamp.

An old black cord with three matching light blue buttons, strung on it, all about the size of a gold piece.

A large piece of parchment with a tea stain in the shape of a kitten.

A rolled up parchment with a sketching of the ugliest Dwarven baby the bearer has ever laid eyes on.

A beat up, wooden compass that always points towards the bearer, never north.

A plain, wooden footstool about six inches high, with a round top about 18 inches across.

A crude, 500 piece puzzle that appears to be a treasure map, but 100 of pieces in the middle that show the specific coordinates and details of the treasure are missing

A thick braided cord made of dark leather, hanging from which is a giant's toenail reeking of cheese.

A voodoo doll of a young man that's missing it's head.

A small jar of chocolate cookies that cannot be opened or broken.

A set of crooked and yellowed dentures with teeth missing.

A dictionary with over half of the words spelled wrong and out of alphabetical order.

A brass chamber pot that was not thoroughly cleaned since its last use.

A wooden scroll tube containing the blueprints of a church that has long since collapsed.

A faux-distressed piece of parchment that is a crude map of the local area, with red circles and arcane gibberish scrawled on it. Intentionally made to look old and worn, it’s actually a simple piece of parchment that’s been singed, crumpled, and rolled in the dirt. It's obviously meant as bait to lure creatures into an ambush it appears that whatever dimwitted humanoid authored this had a very poor knowledge of spelling and grammar. Any literate creature who so much as glances at it can identify the map as a fake.

A plain thimble, with absolutely nothing particularly interesting about it.

A crude earring made from a tiny tooth, wrapped in thin twine.

A formal letter that is badly seared and charred. It’s impossible to decipher because of the damage.

A small blue candle that smells of fruit. It’s fragrance is weak and barely noticeable.

An assortment of pieces from cracked eggshells. Most are a pale creamy color, like the egg of a chicken. Some larger pieces are a deep purple.

A porcelain doll about the length of a human’s index finger. The face is chipped away.

A black flask with a gaping hole in its side. It’s covered in punctures that look like bite marks.

A silky cloth fraying quite badly around its edges. It’s almost reflective in its lustrous sheen.

A smooth, round stone about the size of a human fist. It feels oddly heavy.

A set of three clay dice, painted with black pips.

A chunk of rusted metal covered in dents.

A somewhat oval-shaped… thing. You think it might be really, really, really stale bread.

A pair of glasses whose frames look as good as new, but the lenses are stained, cloudy, and cracked.

A trio of matching bracelets, made from knotted thread. You’re almost certain there’s supposed to be four of them.

A hollow reed that creates a low, soft whistle when blown.

A hand sized figurine of a cat, perpetually coated in a layer of dust.

A waterskin filled with a slick, greasy oil. Patterns of snakes cover its sides.

A single tile that appears like it was from some type of mosaic mural. It’s a dull green in color.

A pouch of bitter tea leaves. Their aftertaste is unsatisfying and almost sour.

A jagged arrowhead, cracked into a shape reminiscent of a fox’s head.

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