#in fact i feel much fear. many fear. i am sweating profusely.

[thevoiceofdesertbluffs]

worst case scenario if tma 2 is bad we can all just pretend it isn't real nor does it exist 🤗

[loving-all-for-loki]

Voiceless Love: Chapter 2

Misunderstanding

Loki x reader, Bucky x reader

Word Count: 2782

Warnings: fluff, Jealous!Bucky, Bucky being soft

Tag List: @caffeineoverloadandstudying @zizzlekwum

“Nice to meet you, I’m Bucky.”

He raises his hand to shake yours while holding his metal arm back. Reluctantly, you take his hand, but your eyes do not leave his. Within the glimmer of your eyes, Bucky can still see fear. He can’t decide if it’s because you’re nervous and new, or if you still has the same beliefs of the people, that he’s a monster.

“I won’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me from the news, but-”

He stops at the sight of you shaking her head no.

“Well, I’m glad you don’t believe them.”

You give him a gentle smile, but it’s more wide and full of life than the others have gotten.

“Are you not able to sleep either?”

You shake your head no. After pointing to your head, you carefully show Buck her hands. He takes them and notices how bad you are shaking.

“Anxiety?”

You nod your head.

“Do you mind if I give you a hug?”

You back up suddenly. The fear flows back into your eyes as you stumble over your own feet. Bucky takes a step back, wanting to say something, but not finding the words in the realization of your fear.

“I’m sorry.. I didn't- I didn’t mean to freak you out…”

You shake your head no. Grabbing the box of Cheez-its you found, you run back to your room. Bucky littles to the little pitter patter of your feet running down the hallways with the feeling of sadness and hurt. He didn’t mean to freak you out, but he misunderstood the openness.

Slowly, Bucky shuffles to your room to find your door still slightly open. Not wanting to ruin her privacy, he decides not to go in, but instead he whispers close to the door, “I’m sorry, again. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You sit on her bed, listening to the soft spoken soldier apologize.

The next morning Bucky wakes up on his warm sheets. The sun peeks through his shades as he stretches awake. He hears a paper sound when he stretches his arms out and notices a small little note fall from the side of his bed onto the wooden floors. Looking around, he notices his door slightly opened, like whoever had entered his room left in a rush.

Leaning over the bed, he picks up the paper and attempts to read the scribbled handwriting.

You didn’t make me uncomfortable, I’m just not used to touch

In his sleepy state, Bucky forgot about his interaction with you. Reading the paper reminds him and brings a smile to his face. If the way you write is similar to your voice, he’s sure you sound like a little mouse, but perfect. Your handwriting is so small and messy, it reminds him of when he learned to write in secondary school. Everything had to be in cursive since a lot of people didn’t write in print back then. Your handwriting is like a bad cursive practice.

After getting ready, Bucky heads his way out of his room into the main living room where people are trickling in. Natasha and Steve look straight out of the gym with how profusely they're sweating, while Wanda is making spirit dancers with her powers to impress Sam and Thor on the couch.

But Bucky’s eyes go straight to you sitting on the bar stool at the island, legs crossed, and hunched over a bowl of cereal. You have a set of dark green silk pajamas on. Out of all the outfits in the world, Bucky thinks your pajamas are the cutest he’s ever seen someone wear. He sits down to the right of you and watches your head move slowly up to look at him. He chuckles at you with the spoon shoved in your mouth as you look at him with big eyes. The corners of your mouth slowly rise until you have a slight smile on your face then you look away and shovel another spoon in your mouth.

“I read your note,” Bucky whispers. You look up with him, without the spoon in your mouth, “I’m glad I didn’t make you uncomfortable.

You smile and nod.

“I’ll be more aware of the touching thing.” Bucky watches your smile become wider which makes his heart jump. Who knew a small thing like you could make him feel small as well.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

Nods.

“I’m glad. I noticed last night you had a lot of your stuff unpacked. Are you getting settled?”

Nods.

“That’s good. Does it feel like home, yet?” He chuckles.

You shake your head no.

“I get that. It took me a while to feel completely comfortable here. I’ll be honest, Y/N, I still struggle with seeing it as home, so don’t feel too bad if you never see it like that.”

You look back up at Bucky and smile. Taking a pen out of your pajama pocket, you reach for Bucky’s opposite arm and take his palm. At this point, most of the other avengers are looking over at the pair, giving each other quizzical looks.

“Since when did these two become friends? It’s only been a day.” Natasha asks.

“I have no idea. Last night she was pretty distant with Thor and I,” Steve said.

“Maybe your whole good ole’ Captain-ness scared her,” Sam snarks.

Looking down at his hand, Bucky watches you write thank you on the palm of his hand, right under his thumb.

“Of course,” he says with a smile, “I’m always here to talk if something is bothering you.”

You smile at him before finishing your bowl of Lucky Charms. Setting your bowl in the sink, you turn to see everyone staring at you in awe. She grabs her blanket around her to cover herself more in defense.

“Guys, stop staring at her. We had a conversation last night and became friends,” Bucky scolds.

“You had a conversation?” Sam asks.

“Well, more like I spoke and she nodded, but yeah. So leave her alone, stop pressuring her to speak. It’s weird and I should know.” Bucky turns back to you. “I can show you around the tower if you want to get away from them.”

You nods her head excitedly before Bucky asks you what your hobbies are. You hold your hands together flat to make a little book symbol.

“Reading? I can show you the library.”

Your eyes light up and everyone takes notice, even from the side of their eyes. You walk over to Bucky who puts his arm out for you. Looking at him nervously, Bucky’s gentle smile relaxes you and you slip your arm around his. Everyone gives each other a frantic ‘did you see that’ look behind your backs as you both walk over to the library.

Bucky looks down at you walking beside him. Your’e not that short, but your small frame compared to him makes you look like a tiny thing. He chuckles inside thinking about how they look, like a lion carrying his tiny sub in his mouth. You’re so cute with your Y/H/C hair swaying as you walk and your fingers wrapped around his biceps. He stops suddenly.

You stop and look back at Bucky with her eyes furrowed. He’s looking down at your hand and realizing it’s wrapped around his metal arm. Not knowing his insecurities and self blame, you don’t understand why he’s frozen in place. You walk closer to him and place your hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

“Your hand… it’s on my metal arm.”

You nod your head, still not understanding. Bucky looks at your eyes with a slight smile.

“Are you not scared of me?”

You shake your head no which shocks Bucky beyond belief.

“I’ve never met anyone who isn’t the first time they meet me.” You shrug which makes Bucky laugh, “Well, I’m glad. Come on, we're almost there.”

You reach the elevator and move up a flight before wandering down another hallway to the doors. Bucky pushes open the door to reveal the library. Your eyes go wide in awe which makes Bucky’s heart skip another beat. Your pure joy makes him so happy and knowing he was able to bring it to her himself brought him as much joy as this library did for you.

He would never lie to himself, he knows he likes you more than he should after knowing you for a day and a half, but there’s something that pulls him towards you. Your sweet innocence makes you so desirable in so many ways. All he wants to do is have you for himself, but also protect you from anything that could harm you.

You run around the library, discovering each aisle and row. You come back by Bucky and jump in joy. He secretly hopes you’d hug him, but you don’t come close to it. Your overwhelming joy is cut off by the sound of someone coughing. The pair turn to see Loki sitting in a seat, head in a book.

“Sorry to interrupt, but you are bothering me, so please get what you need and leave.”

“I’m sorry, Loki, but this library doesn’t belong to only you,” Bucky remarks.

Loki looks up from his book, scowling at Bucky, until he sees you standing by. It’s the girl he had seen earlier, the one who appeared different from the rest. Maybe he could be a little more gracious to the mortal.

“I am the only one who uses it, am I not?”

“Not anymore, Y/N really likes to read so I’m afraid she will be joining you more.”

Bucky doesn’t like the thought of you being alone with Loki, but he also knows you’d never be into him with how rude and uptight he could be. Plus, he also knows you would never bother him since you’re quiet.

“Well, I guess I don’t mind being joined by the quiet one. She seems like good company.”

You smile at Loki’s comment. Maybe the god of mischief isn’t as bad as he seemed.

-

Bucky left you in the library for a little bit while he went to spare with Steve. He didn’t like the fact that you were alone with Loki and he let that get to him.

“What’s going with you?” Steve asks.

“Nothing.”

“Your moves are sloppy and I can tell your head isn’t here. What’s bothering you?”

“Is it normal to get attached to someone quick?”

“Depends on the situation. Are you talking about Y/N?”

“Yeah, I know I’ve only known her for a day, but I feel protective of her.”

Steve joins Bucky on the floor, staring out the windows, “Maybe because you understand? You’ve been where she has, scared, helpless. She’s not one hundred percent sure on what’s going on with herself then she was thrown in the Avengers. It’s quite sudden and you can relate to it.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Some time away will be nice, too. Give you some space from her to think.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tony didn’t tell you? We’re leaving for a mission soon. All of us but Y/N and Loki.”’

-

You and Loki sit in silence in the library, both absorbed in their books. You can’t make out what Loki is reading, but it looks like some kind of Russian romance novel. You go back to Macbeth, which happens to be her third time reading it. You're so immersed that you don’t notice the tiny glances Loki is sending your way.

He’s intrigued by the new Avenger. Small in frame, innocence in appearance. She doesn’t look like the rest, pained by the world. She looks more carefree, timid, and dare he even say enjoyable. Besides the fact that she doesn’t speak, he doesn’t mind her presence, but he hates that. He’s never minded a Midgard before, so why her? He also notices the way you were his color unknowingly, but loving how it looks on her. There’s a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach looking at her, not really knowing what it is.

Neither are really sure how much time passes. Loki has gone through multiple books, but he notices you are still reading the same book. It’s at least been hours. Surely you aren’t that slow of a reader.

“What is it you’re reading?” Loki asks hoping he can spur some answers out of you. He’s never been so intrigued by a human.

You sneak a finger in her book to hold her place before showing him the title.

“Macbeth? Good selection, didn’t take you as a Shakespeare fan. You look like one of those mortals that would read werewolf smut”

You crack a little smile and go back to her book, not giving Loki anymore attention. From the way Bucky spoke about him, you’re not so sure if he’s safe or trustworthy. He seems nice and not like the other’s descriptions of the god. They say he’s silent and judgmental, but the man sitting in a three piece suit while reading doesn’t radiate the destructive chaos. You look up to see him staring at you. Furrowing her eyebrows, you move over to sit by him on the ground.

“What is it, little one?”

Shrugging, you point to him and make a little sign to show him watching her.

“Why am I looking at you?”

You nod your head passionately.

“I’m staring at you because you’re the first person to stay in a room with me for more than five minutes. Quite shocking, to be honest.”

You chuckle inside and shake your head. She reaches out for his hand, but he stays still. He shoots you a confused look, but you simply roll your eyes and pull for his hand more. Hesitantly, he gives it to you, watching every move. You pull out the pen in her pocket you had used on Bucky and write on Loki’s wrist.

You’re not bothering me, so why would I leave?

“I bother most.”

I don’t mind you. You seem nice.

The sudden compliment disturbed Loki. Quickly, he stands up and drops his book.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he says boldly before exiting the room in a hurry.

You sit there, watching the green eyed god haste fully leave. Did you say something wrong? All of a sudden, you could feel water rising in your eyes. Silently, you let out a couple of tears before putting your book away and shuffling to your room.

Right before you made it to your room, you bump into a large object. Slipping, you grabbed onto the closest thing which was cold metal. Bucky tries to keep his arm still and grab you as you struggle to regain your balance.

“Woah, woah, are you okay?” His eyes are full of worry as this little thing fumbles around.

You nod, trying to keep your head down so he couldn’t tell you were crying, but gently, Bucky lifts your head up to meet his eyes.

“You’ve been crying?”

You shake her head no and try to keep walking, but Bucky holds you tight so it looks as if you are walking into a wall. You give him a hard look, but it’s tired and longing. Bucky takes your hand and walks you the rest of the way to your room. He waits at your doorway until you motions for him to come in. Bucky sits on her bed as he watches you fold her blanket and sit down next to him.

“What happened, doll?” Bucky asks as he wipes off the remaining tears from your cheek.

You let out a little sigh and pull out the little ball point pen.

Loki incident

Bucky stiffens up and stares at you, his eyes burning into your head. If he did or said anything, Bucky would…

Don’t kill him, he didn’t do anything

Bucky doesn’t loosen up, but waits for an explanation. You give him a soft smile, the kindness and happiness returning to your eyes.

He can’t take compliments

Bucky drops his head and chuckles, “I think you’re the only one who’s ever complimented him.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Bucky realizes that wasn’t the right thing to say. He sees the sadness come back into your eyes and realizes he misunderstood what happened between you and the god. It burdens you to hear such words and it burdens him to know you care.

“He’s hard to be around, doll. You’ll get used to it.”

But inside he’s holding back everything from running to Loki and punching him for talking to you.

[bluestarscribbler]

Writing Characters With Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD)

Hi everyone! :) How are you doing? 🥰💕 Today I'll be outlining the main do's and don't's of writing characters with SAD, as well the definition and the main symptoms of SAD.

DISCLAIMER: I am not diagnosed with SAD myself; however, all of the following information had been obtained from different posts and sites of people that have first-hand experience with SAD. I will be linking those at the end of today's post, please feel free to check them out.

What I learned from the intense research I did is that nobody has social anxiety the same. Some people feel like they can't breath. Others tend to laugh in awkward moments. Nobody is the same. No character is exactly alike. You can't get it "right," because it's not an exact science. So don't feel too pressured while writing a character with SAD, there's no "one" way to write them. A helpful approach is to think what about how the SAD fits into the story you want to tell because the topic is really as complicated as any other and you can view it from many different angles and go as deep as you want - depending on what this story you're trying to tell calls for. So rather than trying to get an objective view of this complicated topic, focus on the aspects that are relevant to the story.

What is Social Anxiety Disorder?

AKA Social Phobia, SAD describes an intense fear and avoidance of negative public scrutiny, public embarrassment, humiliation or social interaction. This fear can be specified to particular social situations; such as public speaking, or more typically, is experienced in most/all social interactions. Those suffering from SAD will often attempt to avoid the source of their anxiety; this is particularly problematic and in severe cases can lead to complete social isolation.

Symptoms of SAD:

person paces a lot

very fidgety

stops talking mid sentence...a lot

wrings hands

angered by slightest infractions of others

finds fault in others a lot

hard to breathe when focus/attention is shifted to them

sweating profusely

mumbling

shrinking to hide

lack of eye contact/wandering eyes

painfully shy and withdrawn

picking the nails, picking the skin

always the person in the back of the room or in a corner

gravitating toward the first person they recognise and following them everywhere

headaches

finding ways to avoid certain situations

crying before or after social events

feel dizzy and the entire world becomes very far away

feeling like chest was caving in

assuming that everyone is focusing on them

assuming that people are laughing about them

grind their teeth a lot

bite their knuckles

tap out drum patterns with their feet or fingers

nausea and vomiting

muscle weakness

migraines

heart arrhythmia

increasing nervous tics

Keep in mind that social anxiety exists on a spectrum. Not everyone is paralysed at the smallest conversation, but some are. Others feel mild discomfort at certain types of socialising. It’s all relative.

DO'S:

DO write in a lot of internal dialogue. People with SAD say that most of their anxiety is created by their own internal rumination. So, add a lot of overly self-critical internal dialogue and have them think about trivial things that they may or may not have gotten wrong for hours after the fact. People with SAD also tend to avoid initiating with anyone, instead preferring for them (the other person) to initiate — because then they know they're not inconveniencing them (the other person). If a person with SAD does have to interact with people then they tend to plan and rehearse what they're going to say to them. However, once the social interaction has begun, there will be very little internal monologue. In those situations, the character is very much relying on instinct. After the interaction, if the character feels that they messed up (which is likely; be sure to pick up on even the slightest fumbles or awkward pauses), they should keep thinking about how they're an idiot and they want to never have to talk to another person again, because they know it'll end the same way. If they feel like they did a good job, they should express surprise at how well it went, congratulate themselves, and say that they should maybe do this more often — although they probably won't.

DO let them have observational skills. Part of the anxiety stems from not always knowing how to/being good at socialising. Thus an anxious person will watch others closely for clues to their performance and acceptance. While it doesn’t always tell the person how they are doing, it does teach them a lot about the people around them and how they feel about each other. The person in a group with SAD may actually have a better idea of who in the group are friends, enemies, annoyed with the others, think they are better, have crushes, and so on. Having SAD doesn’t mean that a person doesn’t know social cues, it means that they underestimate their ability to use them. Don’t confuse SAD with autism.

DO make it influence all decisions. This is one you can do as the writer and not include every bit of internal dialogue. Just keep in mind that Every decision an anxious person makes is put through the anxiety filter first. Even if they are doing things by themselves, they have to evaluate the chances of meeting people, meeting people they know, having to talk to people when they are done. Keep that in mind when writing these characters in order to keep their personality consistent. That said, in general you can think of someone with SAD feeling physically, mentally and emotionally uncomfortable and "out of place" in ordinary social situations - they want out of it, looking for the door, excuse to leave, cut the interaction short. There could be a sense of shame, guilt and self-loathing about not being "good enough", or that there is something broken and wrong with them (or society).

DO give them other traits. Make sure you give them other traits that influence their decisions and drive their motivations. Someone can have anxiety and also love adventure, want to save all the stray dogs, want to help orphans, want to be a basketball hero, etc. One of the big problems with SAD is that it interferes with a person’s desires to do and be other things. It doesn’t always win though. And sometimes a person may decide that an awkward encounter or two is worth taking part in some other activity they love. Just remember to keep your characters balanced.

DO let them find each other. SAD is probably more common than you’d think. Not everyone has a crippling case. You can have characters share their anxiety with each other and comfort each other and help each other through tough times. SAD can make a person feel isolated but they don’t have to be, and often aren’t as isolated as they think. That observational skill can also help them find the right people to share their feelings with. Not all socialising is terrifying, it can often be cathartic.

DON'T'S:

DON'T make them hate people. Social anxiety does not mean that the person afflicted doesn’t like people or always craves solitude. One of the harshest aspects of SAD is that a person may want companionship and friends but still have uncontrollable discomfort when faced with making friends or spending time with the friends they already have. This constant tug-of-war between wanting friends and feeling the anxiety around people can cause a lot of internal pain and lead to other emotions and conditions such as depression. Someone with SAD can have friends. Even a lot of friends. But certain factors may influence how a person with SAD chooses friends more than they influence others. The level of contact is different for everyone and there will be some friends who can take up more time while not taking up more energy on the part of the anxious person. However, SAD can get so bad that the person with it is unable to leave the house for days at a time, ghosting on all social engagements, not answering their phone and ignoring all texts; but that still doesn't mean they hate people.

DON'T always make them succeed. If you are writing about a person with SAD and they are forced again and again to go outside their comfort zone, make them fail. Have them go to a meeting and then duck down a side corridor at the last minute and disappear. Have them talk to a person and then freeze up in the middle of a conversation, at a loss for words. The longer they go without knowing what to say the stronger the anxiety gets and the harder it is to think. Or have them execute the socialising brilliantly but then go into the bathroom and cry from the overwhelming sense of effort it took to look normal. And just because they have had a few successes doesn’t mean that they will start succeeding every time. Sometimes, the energy it takes, even when the interaction was a success, means that next time they are reluctant or too exhausted to do it again.

DON'T always give them "tells". Anxious people can be very good at hiding it. In the example above of the person who socialises brilliantly and then cries in the bathroom, no one knows how hard it was. They only saw the brilliant “performance.” Keep that in mind. Not all people uncomfortable with socialising are bumbling awkward goofballs. Sometimes they actually appear very cool and collected.

DON'T suddenly make their anxiety disappear when they're at the end of their character arc. This pisses me off, anxiety is a life-long condition. It cannot be "overcome" easily. However, the person with it can learn to live with it. They can visit a psychiatrist, get pills prescribed or change their lifestyle completely to fit around their SAD. A person with anxiety always thinks about their anxiety. Even when they are happily at home reading a book, sometimes they will think about an upcoming engagement, or wish they made friends like the characters in their book. Every time a person with SAD makes plans they have to run through a list of criteria before nailing anything down. Will they have time before and after to prep for and cool down from the experience? Is it something they have done before and feel comfortable doing? Can they back out at the last minute if they feel too overwhelmed that day? These are just a fraction of the things that go through an anxious person’s mind before committing to plans. Again, this isn’t an absolute, but for many people with SAD it is a defining characteristic of who they are. They don’t talk to a single person, even a spouse sometimes, or make a doctor’s appointment without the anxiety affecting how they feel, think, and behave. It is always there. Always.

That's it for today folks! I hope everyone has an absolutely fantastic day! 😊❤

[voidstilesplease]

would you hold it against me?

(steo royalty au)

---

A loud grunt as back meets chest follows the sharp sound of a metal blade slipping onto the stone floor of the training hall. They both pant, the prince and his companion, as the former disarms the latter and now has his weapon held against the pale throat. The position is not threatening; the prince is careful to hover his blade far enough from fragile skin. What he does, though, is to push his body closer to the boy in front of him, leaning so that his lips graze the other's ear.

The prince breathes, slightly ragged, "Do you yield?"

His companion snorts inelegantly, hands around the sweaty arm holding the weapon upon him. "Yes, my prince," he says, catching his breath and feeling the prince doing the same behind him. "I yield for the tenth time in a row."

The prince laughs, releasing his companion then. He bends to pick the fallen sword, offering it back to the other boy. "Again?"

The other boy, sweating profusely and visibly exhausted, shakes his head. He takes the sword from the prince, walks to the side, and drops down on the floor instead. He wipes at his forehead with the baggy sleeve of his white shirt, and looks up at the amusement in the prince's rich blue eyes. "I don't understand why you insist on sparring with me, my prince," he starts, "I am not a knight, nor am I trained for physical brutality, and therefore can't be a challenging sport."

The prince gives a small laugh; his face flushed and unrestricted. He makes for the weapon stand, his steps echoing in the near emptiness of the spacious hall. He slides the sword in its sheath with the grace of someone who has done it so many times. "I much prefer the company of my dearest friend than anybody else at this moment," he tells his companion.

The latter appears taken aback by the statement, his brown eyes widening a small fraction, but he quickly shields it by inclining his head, "Well, no matter," he replies, clearing his throat. "I'm certain the guards are searching the castle now for you, my prince. You were supposed to be fitting dresses and practicing waltz. The ball is in a fortnight."

The prince groans in a manner that he can't do in public. He walks back to his companion, folding his sleeves up to his elbows and loosening the laces of his collar, exposing a sliver of his tanned chest. The prince inwardly preens in satisfaction as he catches his companion averting his eyes, cheeks red-tinged. He stands before the boy: his sworn companion since they had been children, the one closest to his heart.

Casually, he bows, extending his hand in silent invitation.

His companion startles, raising a questioning glance. He stammers, "Your majesty, what is this?"

The prince smiles, "Stiles," he says gently, "It is only us. Call me Theo,"

Theo sees him hesitate, "Theo," Stiles's voice is low, as if afraid that somebody might witness a disrespectful act and hang him for it. "What-"

"Dance with me," Theo announces the request, interrupting his question.

Surprise covers Stiles's expression once more, but he isn't quick to overcome this time. He openly gapes at the prince in disbelief. Stiles stutters for a moment, words escaping him. Theo prides himself on being the only person in the castle to achieve so. 

Stiles is naturally quick-witted and usually masters a look of impassivity and control, as he is training to be Theo's diplomatic representative for when the prince rises to the throne. But Theo always manages to fluster him, the same way Stiles is the only one to make the prince's heartbeat race in his chest and lull it to calmness. Some might argue that it is deep kinship as they grew up together. Theo recognizes it is much more - even, that it has nowhere to go.

But he will steal moments that he can.

Finally, Stiles settles with a weak reply, "There is no music,"

Theo arches a thick dark brow, "Isn't there?"

Stiles stares at him, watching Theo's face for something. The prince stays in position, waiting patiently, as they have both waited for this moment of admission. With hesitation at first, then with more certainty, Stiles reaches and takes Theo's proffered hand.

Theo pulls him up and maneuvers them to the middle of the room. The hall is reserved for recreation, most commonly by Theo himself. It is the room where he spends hours practicing his fighting stance with the best knights in the castle, or just by himself. There is not much furniture in the room aside from decorative mantelpieces and portraits of his late ancestors. There is a furnace and a carpet with a chair and table on it on one wall. A few statues scatter the sides, and finally, the weapons stand. Almost the entire floor is bare. And now, Theo and his beloved companion stand in it, holding each other the way they can't outside of these walls. 

There's a slight wildness reflected in Stiles's light brown eyes, and the little hitch in his breath tells Theo that he is not alone in his desire. Although Stiles peeks small glances behind Theo's shoulder, making sure that the doors are still closed, his long fingers stay firm within Theo's grasp.

Theo's eyes follow the way Stiles wets his lips, and he doesn't bother concealing it. When their gazes meet, Stiles drags another puff of breath, and Theo is transfixed. Stiles looks stunning, even when he is confused. He is the only man Theo will ever call beautiful. 

The prince lets go of Stiles's hand to slide both of his arms around his companion's waist and press their bodies together, faces inches apart from one another.

A nervous laugh escapes Stiles's mouth, and he attempts to school his features that of steady and unaffected. "If I didn't know any better, my prince," Stiles tells him, not correcting himself for using the courtesy address. Theo doesn't mind since he doesn't think Stiles has said it for politeness at all. "I'd think this is only a ploy to touch me and pull my body close to yours until there is no space between us."

Theo tightens his embrace, leaning so that their foreheads touch -the intimacy that Theo knows he will only ever share with Stiles, and not even with his future queen.

"If I confirm that it is indeed my intention," Theo says, almost breathless at their proximity and the fact that Stiles is allowing it and not running away in fear. He rubs the tips of their noses together, closing his eyes momentarily as they both sigh at the contact, before rearing back to meet Stiles's now darkened eyes. "Would you hold it against me?"

Stiles's response is yes and no.

~•~

// if I said I want your body now, would you hold it against me?//

[iwritefanficion]

Could you do another scenario for the fantasy au? Maybe the reader almost gets killed during a witch hunt?

Oh~ I love this! 

Just so everyone knows, the reader isn’t in a romantic relationship with the sides just yet. I’m planning to save that for later~ However, this does move stuff along. 

Warnings: Remus, swearing, descriptions of blood and violence

~

Roman

-True to his word, Roman came back to your cottage. Many, many times. Not that you complained, of course. 

-The two of you talked for hours! Every time he visited, the two of you would have a great time. Just laughing and chatting. Within a week, you knew more about him than any of his other friends. 

-With you, he could share everything. Secrets, insecurities, fears. You would listen, you would comfort him, you would be there. And he did the same for you. 

-He loved watching you do magic and you enjoyed watching him use a sword. You would train together, even if you never really used your magic for combat. It was good to exercise those skills. 

-You two also exchanged letters. You had an owl to bring letters back and forth, which was a great system. If he couldn’t get to see you in person, he adored seeing hearing from you in a letter. 

-However, one day while he riding out to your cottage, he noticed that your door was wide open and there were many footprints in the ground surrounding your cottage. 

-Panic set in immediately. Frantically he started shouting your name, hopping off his horse and running around, yelling and listening for any noises that would give off where you may be. 

-He could feel his heart drumming in his chest and the rush of blood in his ears. Time seemed to slow down around him as he looked around. The forest was eerily silent, there was no rustling of the leaves nor any birds chirping. It was like the world could feel the frenzy he was feeling. 

-Breathing ragged, he feared the worse. Were you alive? Were you okay? Where were you? Were you in trouble? Millions of questions ran through his mind. 

-He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if you were hurt- or worse. You meant so much to him and knowing he could have stopped whatever happened made his stomach churn horribly. 

-In the midst of shouting, he heard multiple voices deep in the forest. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, he didn’t even try to listen. As soon as he heard them, Roman dashed toward the source. 

-As he got closer, he actually heard the voices more clearly and what they were saying. They were chanting, more than a dozen of them:

-”Kill the witch! Kill the witch!” 

-All the blood drained from his face when he heard those words. He quickened his pace, getting hit in the face with branches and leaves but he couldn’t care less. He just had to get to you. 

He could see you when he was near. You were panting hard, hair dishevelled with leaves and twigs sticking out from your head. Your clothes were ripped and your face was cut. Roman could also see your cheeks, stained in tears, and your eyes rimmed red. 

-”Please,” you begged, pleaded, “I don’t want to hurt you. Please.” -The people chanting were all armed with swords, pitchforks and torches. You could have easily beat them, your spells and abilities were far superior but you were a pacifist. You didn’t like to hurt people. 

-He loved that you were gentle but at this very moment, he wished you would have knocked them out. But, he knew it was only wishful thinking. 

-You continued urging them not to hurt you. You kept saying you weren’t evil, you didn’t hurt people. You were sobbing in the mix, voice cracking. All you wanted was to live in peace. 

-Drawing his sword, he Roman rushed in between you and the mob. His sword was pointed at them, eyes glaring fiercely. He swore to himself nothing would hurt you. He would make sure of it. 

-You were surprised by his appearance. saying his name in awe and relief. You wanted to hug him but knew that you should wait until the group was dealt with. 

-”I am Prince Roman, and you shall not harm a hair on this woman’s head,”

-The mob grew angry, spouting nonsense on the lines that you weren’t a woman, you were a monster. However, Roman didn’t back off, he made it clear anyone who tried to harm you would be punished severely. 

-With the threat of punishment hanging over their heads, the mob retreated. They were still furious but they knew better than to mess with the royal family, especially Prince Roman.

 -They disbanded, leaving the forest to you and the prince. As soon as you were sure you were out of danger, you lunged forward, bringing Roman into a hug. 

-You held onto him tightly, crying into his shoulder, thanking him profusely. Your nails dug into the cloth of his shirt, your face burrowed into his shoulder. 

-He hugged back, just as hard. He was so thankful you were safe. He hated the fact you were in trouble, that he couldn’t have gotten there sooner. If they had gotten to you…

-He wasn’t sure what he would do. He didn’t even want to think about it. 

-Roman led you back home after that. The walk was silent as both your minds were still reeling from what just happened. Back at your home, you were both hesitant to part ways.

-”You should move closer to the castle,” 

-He wanted you to be closer. He wanted to make sure you were protected. And he couldn’t do it from where you lived now. It was an odd request, coming from out of the blue. But, his eyes were so hopeful as they stared at you. 

-Silence settled around you. You were contemplating the answer. But, with a smile, you nodded and agreed. Then with a wave of your hand, your home shrunk down low and you put it in your bag.

-Off the two of you went, heading to the castle. 

Patton

-Patton never thought he’d see you again after that meeting in the woods.

-But days after the incident, you actually showed up to the little shop he ran for his practice. He hadn’t expected to see you but that didn’t mean he wasn’t ecstatic at your sudden appearance.  

-The moment he saw you, he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug. 

-After that day, it would be a common occurrence for the two of you to spend time together. Whether you were helping him with patients or the two of you were baking together, you seemed attached at the hip. 

-You were easy to talk to and an absolute sweetheart. The two of you would make each other laugh with silly jokes and puns. Sometimes to make him laugh you would use your magic to do funny things with your face or create something out of thin air. 

-The twp of you simply liked to be around one another.  

-And with you around, antidotes, numbing agents, ointments and potions were made much more accurately. He could also count on you to help heal people, making his life much easier. 

-It was odd when he didn’t see you for a day. Even if you couldn’t spend the day with him, you often would check upon him. Maybe drop something off he could use. 

-But the day was coming to an end, the night sky rolling in. He closed up the shop later than he usually would, still hoping you would show up. His eyes would glance to the door or window, wanting to know if you were there. 

-By the time the sky was illuminated by the stars, he was starting to get anxious. Worrying his bottom lip, he couldn’t help but think that something might be wrong. 

-Patton wanted to check up on you, just to make sure nothing happened. The only problem was he didn’t know where you lived. You never mentioned it. 

-He knew you could take care of yourself. You were a powerful being, a wide range of magical abilities in your arsenal. That didn’t stop his concerns. 

-Back at the castle, he noticed it was unusually quiet and deserted. The only person that was still there was his other friend, the wizard, Logan. He was in the castle’s library, studying more ancient texts that Patton couldn’t decipher. 

-Patton asked where everyone is. 

-Logan blankly explained to him that Prince had organized a witch hunt for a woman who had been recognized for using magic, and was currently out. Logan also mentioned he didn’t want to be in the middle of nonsensical violence. 

-Patton immediately felt the blood drain from his face, his body going numb. It couldn’t be you… could it? 

-He asked the wizard where they were hunting the witch, and Logan told him. Logan also asked why he wanted to know but Patton was already gone. 

-Taking a horse, Patton was thankful the hunt wasn’t far. He didn’t know if it was you but he had to make sure. Roman wouldn’t kill you, would he? Hot tears welled in his eyes as he thought about you dying. The image of your lifeless corpse crossed his mind for only a second but it was enough to draw a sob from his lips. 

-When he spotted a mob and the light of torches, he made the horse go faster.

-”Back off, bastards!” 

-It was your voice, he was sure of it. But it was said with a tone that made shivers run down his spine. It was angry, bitter, venomous. And right after the words were spoken, a wave of fire came from the middle of the mob, lighting the sky in its golden glory. 

-The horse Patton was riding got spooked by the firey wave and bucked him off. He fell to the ground, pain flooding his senses but he ignored it, standing and pushing himself to the front of the hoard. 

-The people and soldiers were all chanting, weapons and torches brandished. He felt nauseated, his stomach felt like he had been eating acid. When he saw you in the middle of the crowd, you looked furious but also frightened out of your mind. 

-Magic surged over your hands and your eyes glowed. But even with all your power, you were exhausted. Sweat dripped down your face and your chest heaved. How long had you been avoiding this?

-”It’s time to die for your crimes, Evil Witch,”

-Roman had his sword pointed towards you, his soldiers mimicking his actions. You glared at him, glowing eyes making him wince slightly. 

-Time seemed to slow. Patton could hear his heart pound in his ears. You hadn’t noticed him yet, your eyes were solely on Roman. You didn’t even try to argue with him. 

-He could sense your power was dwindling. You had used up all of it and now you were out. You couldn’t defend yourself. 

-Then Roman’s sword swung at you and slashed against your stomach. 

-Patton let out a scream, catching your collapsing body in his arms as he lowered you both to the ground. His hand was over the wound, a golden shine radiating from his palm as he started to heal the wound. He ignored the blood on his hand and his clothes. 

-He prayed and prayed and prayed. All his power and will went into saving you. He would not let you die. You couldn’t. 

-His vision was blurring. Tears fell freely. All he could do was hold you close and hope his power was enough. 

-Someone tried tugging him off but he was furiously and hysterically shouting ‘no’ at whoever tried to get him away from you. His grip on you tightened. 

-He could hear the faint calling of his name from someone that wasn’t you but it was like whispering behind a wall. Barely there, hard to hear and so very quiet. 

-”Y/N, please wake up, please,”

-He pleaded hoarsely, voice just above a whisper. His forehead was on yours, his tears dripping on your face. 

-”Anything for you, darling,”

-Your voice was small but had a teasing edge to it. Patton’s eyes flew open, his body freezing as you stared up at him, exhaustion clear in your eyes. 

-Patton started laughing, relief and joy flooding over him. He pulled you into a hug, arms so tight around you they could have left bruises. Your face was in the crook of his neck, hands loosely resting on your back. 

-”What is the meaning of this?!”

-Roman’s voice cut through the happy moment like an axe to a tree. Patton looked at him, concern flashing through his eyes. Roman’s sword was at his side, dripping in your blood. 

-Patton got angry, holding you protectively in his lap. His glare was fierce, lips curling into a scowl. 

-”I won’t let you hurt her! She’s not evil! She sweet and funny and doesn’t deserve any of this! So leave her alone you- you- you butthole!” 

-Roman was taken aback by the sudden outburst and the unbridled rage in Patton’s voice. The prince opened and closed his mouth, no words forming. Patton never got angry. Never. 

-Roman must have believed Patton because he called off the mob. But, Patton wasn’t concerned with them any longer. The only thing he could focus on was you. 

-Smoothing the hair stuck to your forehead back, Patton smiled down at you. Your gaze was soft as you stared up at him, a tired smile gracing your lips. 

-”Thank you, Pat,” you muttered, “I’m…really tired.”

-”Hi, Tired, I’m Patton!” 

-You laughed quietly at his joke, curling into him as your eyes shut. And soon, you were enjoying your much-deserved rest.

Logan

-Logan returned to your home after his mission was completed. It was just to let you know that he was finished and to let you in on how it went but it ended up delaying him another day. 

-There was a comfort being around you. You had an aura that made all the tension leave his body. He found it natural to converse with you on a wide range of subjects. 

-You were intelligent, that much he enjoyed about being around you, and you understood magic. He didn’t have to “dumb” things down for you like he would for Roman or Patton. Logan could discuss any topic with you and you would be able to understand- or ask relevant questions to better comprehend. 

-So, it was no surprise that he came back as often as he could to your home. He was very busy, so sometimes it would be a while before the two of you could meet in person but because you were both well-versed in the study of magical arts, there were other ways to communicate, even when many miles apart. 

-It was common knowledge that Logan didn’t like to talk about his feelings, or even admit he had them. Mild annoyance was not unusual, and neither were small bursts of anger. But, generally, he didn’t like to go on a tangent about his feelings. 

-Except for you. He felt no pressure hiding how he felt and would rant about something that bothered him. You would listen, acknowledge him, and make him feel better. There was nothing to hide from you. 

-It wasn’t odd to find your face staring back at him in the flames he summoned, his preferred method of long-distance communication that could find you no matter where you were. (Think Harry Potter and his conversation with Sirius in the Fireplace)

-What was odd was that you were terrified. Even if the fire wasn’t completely clear, he could still see your tears, your heavy breathing, your eyes glancing everywhere, and the way you were shaking. Fear was imprinted on every muscle of your face. 

-His rants died in his throat as he asked, with more worry than he cared to admit, if you were alright. He’s seen you concerned, a little anxious, but not horrified like you were at the moment. 

-”Logan? No- fuck- I’m not, Gods, Logan, I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice shaky, “they’re after me, they’re coming for me. I can’t talk, I’m sorry, I have to-”

-The flames disappeared. Logan was left in the silence of his room, stunned by what you just told him. Millions of questions raced through his mind. Were you okay? Who was chasing you? Why were they after you? Where were you? 

-Getting over his shock, he raced through the castle. His best bet was that you were near your home. Portals were out of his magical abilities, so he had to rely on getting there by horse. He just hoped it would be quick enough. 

-He might have used a spell or two to hurry the journey but it was well worth it. He needed to know you were safe, and if that meant tearing down anyone who dared to hurt you then so be it. 

-He quickly examined his surroundings, trying to find any clues in a haste. He didn’t have time on his side, so he had to be swift. Your door was wide open, so it was most likely that you were forced from your home. So, it was either multiple people or one powerful person. 

-There was no signs of blood or a fight besides the door, so he to assume you got away. The forest was the most likely place you’d go, it was familiar and provided ways to hide. There was a path leading into the forest with twigs snapped, bent branches and trambled ground. 

-Following the disturbed path, he concentrated his magic to create invisible pulses to locate your magical signature. It was the only way to locate you without anyone else realizing what he was doing. 

-Logan did manage to find you, you were standing with your back pressed against a tree. There were people around you- but he could only barely sense them so he wasn’t sure how many there were. 

-Grinding his teeth, he started rushing to your location. Anything that dared to get in his way burned to ashes before it even touched him. Nothing was going to stop him- or slow him down- from helping you. 

-You may be a great witch but he knew you were better at helping things live than destroying things. You weren’t aversed to violence you just weren’t greatly equipped with combat abilities because you never had to use them. Also, expanding your magic for long periods of time was tiring for anyone, especially if there are multiple opponents you don’t want to kill. 

-Logan knew he was close as soon as he saw a hoard of people, exactly forty-two from what he could see. They were crowding around you, blocking you in. 

-Threats were cast from all different mouths, boiling his blood. Magic burned in his veins, threatening to explode out. These people were trying to kill you. Why? What could you have possibly done?

-But as soon as someone mentioned that you were an evil witch, everything fell into place. Ah. That’s why. Prejudice and misinformation. Why are people so stupid? They probably didn’t even check their facts, they just assumed you were evil because you’re a witch and started this witch-hunt. 

-He started pushing through the crowd, hoping that none of them had gotten to you. He felt a knot in his stomach as the thought of you hurt crossed his mind. What if he never saw you smile again? What if never heard your voice? 

-He didn’t know if you were hurt, it was foolish to jump to conclusions yet. You could have been fine. You could be completely unharmed and been able to hold them off. 

-When he could see you, you were alive but you were bleeding, one of your arms limp, and the other manipulating a plant to help you defend yourself. By the way you were panting and sweating, it appeared you had used up a lot of your magic. You couldn’t keep it up much longer. 

-The others must have also noticed your weakened state because they all started charging at you, weapons ready. 

-Logan leaped into action, casting a spell that knocked all of them back with a large gust of wind. He stood protectively in front of you, magic sparking between his fingers. -Logan leaped into action, casting a spell that knocked all of them back with a large gust of wind. He stood protectively in front of you, magic sparking between his fingers. 

-His name came from your lips in a hushed whisper. It was nice to hear your voice, it was nice to know you were okay. He looked back at you, face calm but eyes raging like a storm. It the coolest voice he could muster, he told you everything was going to be copacetic. 

-You smiled at him, gratitude shining in through your eyes. You let your back hit the tree behind you, eyes drooping. You exhausted your magic resources and tired yourself in the process. These people had been after you for what seemed like hours, and to defend yourself you had to use your abilities. 

-”Under my orders, the High Wizard of Prince Roman, you will not damage this fair woman,”

-His status did give him more power than a normal person, and for once he was glad to use that authority. He stood straight, intimidation radiating off of him like light from the sun. 

-The mob became still before whispers echoed in the forest, different opinions and views coming out in the open. Some believed, some different, but it was irrefutable. Logan wore the crest on his chest like a badge of honour. 

-With a fierce glare, lightning sparked from his hands, eyes glowing devilishly. The mob let out sounds of terror and scattered from the forest, dropping their weapons in fright. 

-After making sure they were all gone, Logan turned to you. You were so close to collapsing, your arm was coated in your own blood, and he could see the resemblance between you and death- though he had to admit, you looked much better than a corpse. 

-He asked you if you were alright, carefully helping you up and muttering a small healing spell for your arm. 

-You told him you were better now that he showed up, rubbing the arm that once was sore. You were smiling sweetly at him, and your arms wrapped around him. Burying your head into the crook of his neck, you thanked him profusely. 

-He stiffened under your touch before relaxing, his own arms resting on your lower back. He shut his eyes, the warmth from your body causing goosebumps to rise on his arms. He felt like he was melting. 

-”No need for gratitude, I’ll always be there for you in a time of need,”

Virgil

-Virgil stayed with you until his wings healed, and even when they healed, he had no other place to go. You offered your home to him more permanently. It got rather lonely where you lived and you didn’t mind his company. 

-Virgil hated to admit it but he actually liked you. You were a gentle soul, so unlike the others up in Heaven. He found out quickly how comforting being around you really was. 

-You really didn’t want anything from him, you didn’t ask for any kind of payment or favours for your kind deeds. And you treated him as if he was an old friend. You didn’t treat him like a demonic entity, and you didn’t treat him like an all-powerful angel. 

-He was just Virgil to you. And that’s what he liked. 

-Nightmares and panic attacks were almost a nightly occurrence with him but despite your lack of sleep, you would stay with him and comfort him. Soothing words and teas made his nerves relax, and you holding him close to your body was calming. 

-You never complained, not with that stuff at least. You didn’t ask what it was about or told him off about his actions. You helped, and you hardly knew him. You offered your home to him, you consoled him, you fed and clothed him. 

-He could count you as a friend, one day maybe something more. 

-It was no surprise that Virgil didn’t like to go outside, he liked the safety of the little cottage he called home. You, on the other hand, had to go outside a lot of time for collecting supplies or going into town. You respected his wishes not to socialize with others and left him in the cottage. 

-You always came back before dark. After he came into your life, you liked to be home before he went to bed so you could be there to help him. You often got home within an hour or two, well before the moon begins to rise, 

-However, this night was different. The moon was at its peak in the night sky, and you hadn’t returned yet. You left in the afternoon, not planning to be very long. And yet, you aren’t back. 

-Virgil started fiddling with his fingers, pacing around your living room. His heart pounded in his chest. Where were you? Why hadn’t you come back? Were you hurt? Dead? What??

-He was worried! He cared about and appreciated you, and your unexplainable absence made him concerned for your wellbeing. He tried to think up rational explanations but they were all clouded over by his anxiety coming up with obsurd- and possibly deadly- scenarios. 

-Though he didn’t want to venture outside, your needs outweighed his desires. If you were in trouble, he needed to help you. 

-Sometimes, when he needed to just focus on something, you would talk to him. Just telling him about your day. He was thankful you talked about the small village you went to, including where it was. That’s where you were headed, and that’s where he would start looking for you.

-Now that he had regained his strength, he could use his abilities to hide his wings. He didn’t do it in the home because he trusted you not to do anything with them. 

-The town was silent as he ventured it, the only noises that could be heard were the sounds of crunching stones beneath his feet and the pounding of his heart. It was also incredibly dark, no lights shone in the houses and no torches lit the outside. 

-He didn’t want to wake anyone, so he didn’t speak but he looked in every alley, every street up until a light caught his eye. It was coming from the center of the village, a wide open space that probably was filled with carts in the day. 

-Concentrating on the light, voices began to drift to his ears. They were incoherent from where he stood. Could you be over there? Well, it was worth a shot. 

-The voices got louder and the light became multiple lights. Torches held high by the hands of humen, a crowd formed around a particular spot. Weapons were brandished, swords, clubs and pitchforks. 

-Virgil felt a heavy weight in his stomach, and all alarms in his mind screamed for him to go. But, he stayed put. If you were there, he could push on. And so he did. 

-The people’s voices were just a buzz. So many voices, all varying in tone and pitch. All it did was give him a headache. He couldn’t even focus on the words they spoke, it was just white noise. 

-One voice did cut through the others because of the familiarity of it. It as coated in anger and fear, and shook him to his very core:

-”Leave me alone! I don’t want to hurt you but make no mistake, I will if I must!”

-That was your voice. These people… they were trying to hurt you? Why? You kept to yourself, you were kind and generous. You lived alone, as far as they knew, and only came into town to get supplies you couldn’t grow or find on your own. 

-He felt sick. Throwing caution to the wind, he rushed through the crowd. The voices made his head spin but he was able to discern some words like: burn, witch, kill. 

-Well, at least he knew why these people were after you. 

-Pushing it up to the front, he saw you, bruised and bleeding, clothing torn and hair askew. In your hand was a materialized sword created from your magic. He could feel the warmth of your magic in it, spreading through your body. It left a taste of something sweet in his mouth. 

-He didn’t want to fight, he just wanted to get you out of there. 

-You turned your back to him when another villager approached you with a weapon. He took the time to launch forward, wrapped his arms around you and materialising his wings so the two of you could shoot into the air. 

-Pain shot down his spine and erupted through his back. His wings throbbed, like thousands of wounds were still healing. They trembled but he managed to keep them flapping so the two of you would stay in the air. 

-You screamed, magical sword crumbling away. He positioned you so you were bridal-style in his arms. As soon as you realized who he was, your eyes lit up like a halo, and your arms wrapped around his neck. 

-His name fell from your lips in awe as your face buried into his neck. You held onto him tightly. 

-Below, the villagers screamed about the witch having summoned the devil and scattered into their homes for protection. Virgil wanted to burn them for hurting you and trying to kill you. But right now, he had to get you somewhere safe. 

-”Virge, I can’t believe you’re here,” your voice trembled, “thank you.”

-You were shaking, and he could feel your tears soak his shoulder. His hold on you grew stronger. You were scared, that much was clear. You had been surrounded by people with weapons, people you knew and probably trusted, and each of them wanted you dead. That would be terrifying for anyone. 

-He asked if you’re alright. You told him you were a little banged up but would survive. 

-With glassy eyes, you gazed at him, asking in return if he was in pain. His wings were still healing, it must have not been pleasant to use them so early in his recovery. 

-Virgil wanted to laugh, you almost died and here you were asking if he was okay. You were amazing, and he couldn’t believe he met someone like you. So, in response, he pressed a small kiss to the crown of your head- the same thing you do to him when he’s in distress- and whispered he’d be fine. 

-He flew the two of you home. Back in the cottage, he helped you treat your wounds. Exhausted from the day you’ve had, you curled into him on your couch and fell asleep. 

-Virgil watched you, wondering how he got so lucky to have someone so brave and kind in his life after he thought it was over. He lost everything, having fallen but he gained something with so much more value. 

Deceit

-You came back to his cave again, unsuspecting, with a gentle smile lighting up your face. He hid in the shadows like he did when you first came, and this time he just watched. Were you after his treasure?

-You weren’t. You looked at the edges of the pools, probably for the same plant you came for the first time. Deceit figured you were telling the truth the entire time, not just because someone showed up. 

-So he came from the shadows, becoming fully human. 

-”Back so soon, little rabbit?” 

-You jumped in the air, much like your first meeting. He chuckled at your jumpiness, finding it almost cute.  

-”You’ve got to stop doing that to me!” 

-The two of you talked, and when you asked about the naga, he simply said he hadn’t seen it nor had he found the treasure. You had mentioned something about being glad he was alive but also relieved he hadn’t found the treasure. 

-After a while, you stopped coming for the plant and you started coming just to see him. The two of you would just hang out, talking and laughing. He would tell you about societies and governments and how the world was flawed. 

-You told him about magic, the properties of plants and the beauty of the world. You would sit with him, take his hand, tell little jokes just to see him smile. 

-He learned how incredible you. Though naive, you were gentle and warm but also intelligent and open-minded. He didn’t like humans but you… you were the exception. He didn’t want any harm to come to you, he didn’t want to deceive you.  

-But he also didn’t want to tell you the truth. So he didn’t. He let you believe he was human, even if you weren’t secretive about your life, including the fact that you’re a witch. 

-The two of you met up almost every night. If one of you couldn’t make it, you would let the other know somehow. But otherwise, you were both there.

-Deceit waited for you under the stars in front of the cave. The wind was howling, and it made shivers crawl up his spine. He liked when he had your body heat to sit next to, you were like a fireplace. 

-You had never been late before, so he was starting to get concerned. Where could you be? Being late wasn’t your style, sometimes you even showed up early. 

-Something was wrong. He could feel it gnawing at his stomach, crawling in his skin. You would have made some contact if you weren’t going to show up. He didn’t want to think about it but his best guess was that you were in trouble. 

-Going into town was something he did only when he felt the urge to deceive people, and he tended to avoid it the rest of the time. Humans didn’t appeal to him, they were ugly creatures, bitter with hearts of ice. You were so different, so beautiful, even with all your faults. You could never have a heart like the bottom of the sea, not cold or sour like the salty ocean. 

-His inner dilemma was quickly dealt with. If you need help, then he would be there. There was no chance in Hell he’d let anything happen to you. So, he set off for the town, figuring it was a good place to start. 

-The town was empty, all of it. Every person had appeared to vacate it, even the children who usually would be sleeping in their beds. That wasn’t a good sign, where could they have gone? 

-The next town was quite far, so it was unlikely you would have gone there, same with the villagers. However, he could smell a faint aroma of your scent, it was a mix of sage and sweets, very distinct. So, you had come here recently, the only question was where you were now. 

-There was a trail, thankfully, but it was mostly masked by dozens of other scents that followed yours. 

-He wasn’t one for running, he preferred to always look poised and liked to waltz or sauntered but there were a time and place for that. This wasn’t it. So he was sprinting, following the trail into a field. 

-The grass was tall, coming to his waist, but there was a path of trampled grass. The scent was getting stronger, and he had to stop focusing on it because it made him dizzy. 

-He did like your scent, it was fresh and relaxing. When he wanted, he could have a very strong sense of smell, and most humans and a horrid aroma to them but not you. Everything about you was lovely. 

-”I’ve done nothing! Please, you must believe me!” 

-Your voice startled the night. It trembled with fear, voice raspy from what appeared to be crying. He could hear the tears in your tone. What the Hell was going on?!

-He rushed over, seeing pitchforks, torches and swords. Panic spread through him like a wildfire. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. A witch hunt. 

-Anger sparked in his veins. How dare they try to harm you. His body shook, quaked in rage. His eyes burned, scales bubbling to the surface of his arms. He hated getting angry- it meant losing hold on forms he had to control. 

-He rushed through the crowd of people, legs melting together until he was no longer running- he was slithering to the front. Clothes melting away, his scales and skin prickled. 

-His eyes locked on you, a shield made from magic in your hands that was shattering. He could taste your sweat, hear your heavy breaths, feel the heaving of your chest and the beat of your heart. Your other hand was on your stomach, stained in blood that kept oozing from the wound. 

-Nostrils flaring, he shoved himself between you and the mob. He used his long tail to knock everyone back. Unhinging his jaw, he bared his fangs and let out a ferocious and inhuman sound. 

-The mob was startled, screams echoed across the field, and at the sight at the angry naga, everyone fled. He didn’t even have to threaten them. When they all left, his fury evaporated from him. His shoulders hunched as he panted. 

-Turning to face you, he froze the moment he saw your scared form. Your shield was nothing more, and all the colour in your face was drained. That’s when he realized what he’s done. 

-You stuttered out the name he gave you, breathing sharply. He wanted to reach out to you but didn’t. This was too much for you. 

-”Y/N, I’m ssssorry. I never wanted you to find out thisssss way,”

-He towered above you by about a foot because of his lower serpentine half. Slitted yellow eyes gazed down at you, guilt and nervousness swirling in his golden stare. 

-Your terror faded, and you blinked slowly at him. A smile lit up on your face and you used your free hand to wrap around his waist and pulled him into a hug. It was loose but probably so you wouldn’t hurt yourself. 

-Deceit melted into you, your warmth flooding through his body. A low grumbling rumbled from his throat, vibrating his chest as both arms coiled around you. You were safe. You were there. You weren’t frightened of him. 

-”I’m not mad, you are my friend, Dee. I only wish you had told me sooner,”

-He beamed at your words. Then, he picked you up, cradling you to his chest, and said that he needed to bandage the wound. 

-You nodded, muttering a small thank you, letting your eyes shut as he slithered back to his cave. There, you two could talk, and he would help you get better. 

Remus

-You and Remus were an unusual pair in many aspects but the two of you also shared things in common. This lead to an… odd friendship with his eccentric and insane personality working alongside your cunning and cool one. 

-After meeting in the woods, you made yourself at home in his lovely tower- which was more of a mansion than it looked from the outside. He didn’t mind, you caught onto the fact that he seemed… lonely. ‘

-The inside of the place was filthy, covered in dust, cobwebs and blood. Everything was worn and torn. So when you decorated your bedroom, you cleaned it and made everything look brand new (you did this with other parts of the home, much to Remus’ annoyance).

-The two of you grew close. In the past, you were only ever concerned about yourself. No one else mattered it was only you and your magic. At first, you figured you could use Remus to some end, much like you’ve done with others in the past. 

-However, you weren’t expecting to actually care about him. It was no longer about using him, it was about just him. He was your friend, and you hated how he became a weakness but at the same time… you wouldn’t give him up for the world. 

-He was affectionate with you, something you became accustomed to as time went on. He would cuddle up to you, surprise you with hugs from behind, plant wet kisses on your cheek or your forehead. It was something that was foreign to you but you accepted it and soon loved it. 

-He felt the same. You, despite being cruel and manipulative, were sweet to him. You’d listen to his ideas, strange creations and plots of revenge. When he needed a break from anything, you were there to hold him and run your fingers through his hair. You gifted him with praise and kind words that no one else gave. 

-You were different. Kind to him but ruthless to the world. You two could talk for hours on different ideas for revenge, or just adding onto his own. You two would laugh at silly concepts. His life brightened the day you waltzed into it, even if you did like to keep things clean. 

-That didn’t mean the two of you always got along. Your personalities clashed as much as they worked together. Sometimes you were too cold and impersonal, and other times he was too irrational and hot-headed. 

-This lead to bickering, which would lead to playful banter most of the time. The two of you would laugh it off and forget about it. 

-That had not happened this time. This time the fight was brutal, yelling and screaming, you losing your cool with frustrated tears. Weapons were raised and magic erupted. 

-It left with you storming out and him destroying his living room. An hour passed before he calmed down and by that time, he didn’t even remember what the fight was about. He just remembered you getting angry, angrier than he had ever seen you before, and the hurt expression on your face when he threatened you with his morningstar. 

-It was burned into his mind and a pit settled in his stomach, the guilt overwhelming. He would never have hurt you, he couldn’t. You were too important, too precious to him. 

-He just kept repeating one question in his mind over and over: I fucked up, didn’t I?

-Remus knew you wouldn’t stay away forever, you would calm down sooner or later and come back. And when you did, he would apologize (bleh, even the thought made him want to puke). 

-However, hours passed, day turned to night, and you still hadn’t returned. Remus thought maybe you were just being stubborn… but what if you weren’t coming back? What if you left for good?

-No, no, you wouldn’t leave all your stuff. You had spell books and potions and other nicknacks that were important to you. You wouldn’t leave without them. So, where could you be?

-He knew you could take care of yourself, you were powerful. That didn’t help ease his concerns. What if you were in trouble? You were wanted by the kingdom, by his brother. Could they have gotten to you? 

-It didn’t matter. Whether you were in trouble or not, he’d go looking for you. He wanted you back home, back with him and even if he had to throw you over his shoulder, he’d get it done (though he hoped it didn’t come to that because you might just kill him). 

-Grabbing as many weapons as he could carry (which was an impressive amount for having no pockets), he set off to find you. His first instinct was out of the forest, as far away from the tower as you could be. You wouldn’t want to be close. 

-The night provided cover so he wouldn’t be exposed for who he was, a wanted man with an extremely large bounty on his head. Grey clouds covered the only source of light in the sky, a sense of comfort coming with the darkness. 

-He stalked the streets, his morningstar, caked in blood, dragged across the dirt ground as his eyes scanned any passerby for signs of your whereabouts. His face was eerily calm. 

-Very few people were in town, even less of them paid him any mind. They mostly chattered to themselves. He didn’t focus on them, that is until he caught bits and pieces of the conversation. The first word that caught his attention was ‘witch’. 

-It made him stop in his tracks. His entire body went stiff as he tried to listen to more. They couldn’t be talking about you, could they? Was there another witch? What could they be talking about?

-The next whispered word was ‘prince’. Anger burned in his body, itching his body. He hated the mention of his damned brother. What did a witch and the prince have to do with anything? 

-The last word he heard was ‘hunt’, and that’s when the vein on his neck throbbed. With no impulse control, he rushed over to the young woman who was talking with her friend, getting right into her face, eyes crazed, teeth bared. 

-”You’re going to tell me all about the witch, the prince and the hunt or I’ll invert your ribcage,”

-Terrified of Remus but not recognizing him, the woman and her friend told him all about how the prince had gotten word of a witch wanted by the kingdom that had been recognized in town. So he had gotten an army set up and were now currently on a witch hunt in the east of the village. 

-Remus bolted as soon as he heard her explanation. There was only one witch that would warrant such a hunt, and that would be you. He ran towards the east, as she mentioned, hoping he got there before anything bad happened. 

-He may have liked death and gore but not when it came to someone he cared about. 

-The search didn’t take long, it was easy enough to find a huge mob, and there was a large white horse that lit up like glowing algae in the night. No doubt Roman was perched on that stupid horse and he’d really like to staple Roman’s eyes to his dick. 

-”Leave me alone you ugly ballsacks before you lose breathing privileges!” 

-He smiled when he heard your loud voice and when he realized that you had spent way too much time with him. At least you were okay. 

-He waltzed right through the mob, all of whom were screaming for her death and not paying attention to the Duke whatsoever. So he just continued on his merry way, glad you hadn’t been bludgeoned or stabbed to death. 

-His blood ran cold the minute he saw his brother pointing a sword at you. Bodies of dead people laid at your feet, their blood staining the grass in crimson. No one else dared to come near you, none except his brother. 

-Remus would have loved the way you looked if had been under better circumstances. Your hair was a mess, blood stained your skin, whether yours or someone else’s, he couldn’t tell. Clothes were torn, face scarred and bruised. You looked delicious. 

-Your hands were engulfed in green fire, and you met the prince head-on. Each swing of his sword was dodged, every punch sent his way was evaded. It was a back and forth with no clear winner. 

-Remus could tell you were drained, which is why you weren’t incinerating the entire mob to a crisp. You had used up so much of your magic, those green flames were the most you could do. The flames were dying down until they were a dull spark, and Roman was going to finish the job with a final blow.

-Skipping up to the front, while all eyes were trained on you and his brother, he raised the morningstar and crashed it against the prince’s skull. Roman collapsed, still alive, but bleeding profusely. 

-”Hey, Y/N! I can’t believe you’re having all the fun without me!” 

-He’s never seen someone looked so shocked, relieved and exasperated at the same time. The fact that he was able to accomplish that with you made pride swell in his chest. 

-”You’re an idiot,”

-You shook your head, fire leaving your hands and you pinched the bridge of your nose. He was confused by what you meant until he realized he was in the middle of a giant mob, helping out a witch, and knocking out the prince. Ah shit. 

-You grabbed onto his sleeve dragging him close to you. You held onto his tightly, fingers digging into him painfully enough to made him shiver in pleasure. Squeezing your eyes shut, you concentrated whatever magic you had left into a transportation spell. 

-A swirl of grey and black mist inclosed the two of you, and when it faded away, the two of you were back at the tower. He would have laughed in the face of victory but you collapsed into his arms, breathing laboured. 

-Picking you up, he put you on the couch. You slumped against him, unusual vulnerability shining through your facade Your eyes were still closed but your body was much more relaxed. 

-He looked over your injuries. They weren’t severe. Painful? Probably. But you wouldn’t die. You could heal yourself when you replenished your magic. So, he just curled next to you, an arm protectively over your waist. 

-”I’m sorry,”

-”For what?” 

-”The fight,”

-You were silent for a moment, turning around to face him on the couch where you both laid. Your face was blank but your eyes were drooping. 

-”No need to apologize, I don’t even remember what the fight was about,”

-Well, at least he wasn’t alone in that regard. The fight was no longer important, what was important was they were both there, in one piece. You were safe, curled into his chest, sleeping soundly. No fight was worth the price of your life. 

~

And it’s done! Wow, is it just me or is it long? No matter, I hope you all enjoyed reading this! It was extremely fun to write! Sorry it took me so long, I’ve been distracted with the sims. 

[duckbeater]

Courtship, pt. 2

Writing about happiness is very difficult and boring. The below are some small attempts I’ve made to write through my happiness. My small, important readership deserves an update, says my brother, whose sensibilities have only rarely steered me catastrophically wrong.

I AM BUYING CHAMPAGNE TO CELEBRATE MY LOVER

Today’s the last day of his job and he’s throwing himself a little party. In September he begins med school and in the next month he’ll put his affairs in order, readying for the big move. I have the sense that tonight begins our diminuendo, despite his staying over last night and spit-fucking me, and I’ll surely stay over tonight, after the many champagne toasts to his prosperous life ahead. 

We’ve started sleeping as two spoons embracing chest to chest, with our faces tucked awkwardly in a neck or an armpit. Of course I wake up gasping, my mouth sucking after a less hot pocket of air, and turn, and enjoy that he pulls me tightly back to him. He’s a heavy sleeper and I’m a light sleeper, and our bedding situation resembles something like a rock in a tumbler with my rolling over and over and over again, arising too early, wildly underslept, shining with sweat, but ecstatic that we’ve touched all night long. I’m attending his celebration in a sleep deficit that I’ve covered with caffeine and a long, soulful run beside the lake. I’ve been thinking about us a lot. 

He wouldn’t call himself my lover, I think, but I’m hoping the expensiveness of the champagne I’m bringing will convince friends in attendance that that’s what we are. I’m hoping my largesse goes noticed and commented on—that it’s interpreted as my being in love with him, and that his peers compel him, by either fretting over my largesse, or pitying me for it, or anyway finding it impressive or amusing or tender or charming—that they tell this young man I’m adoring him and I’m adoring him well. That my adoration seems steadfast and considered. And despite the riskiness of the circumstances (our differences in age, the widening gulf in distance, a sometimes depleting lack of shared cultural references), when we are together I feel comfort and joy. This must be obvious to him without the expensive champagne. I’m always saying it out loud, or anyway variants on the theme of “comfort and joy,” like a seasonal blessing, a profusion of blessings, needing remarked upon. I’m seriously afraid I mother him.

“Let us take in the scene,” I have said before, “let us only observe for the moment my sitting in your lap, your hands on my neck, my constant kisses. What joy!”

He’s done something to my sense of my proportion, and also my prose style. I can’t seem to describe our relationship without slipping into the sardonic, recursive, mildly-institutionalized voice of Robert Walser, a writer I find too cute by half. I’m finding my life too cute by half, I fear. If this is what happiness feels like, I don’t really want much more of it. It’s making me stupid. “People will think that pain has made you stupid,” wrote Walser, a statement that comes back to me when I can’t distinguish between the good times and bad times making me an idiot.

AFTER THE SPIT-FUCKING

We stayed up late talking about what it means to say goodbye to people who don’t know you’ve cared for them. I don’t pretend this conversation had subtext. For the last two years, he’s worked with profoundly disabled people, first as a case worker and then, after the pandemic closed the campus and made that job “nonessential,” as a nursing assistant on the same floor. 

He spent months feeding, changing, bathing and bedding non-ambulatory children and adults. Most cannot speak, a few cannot see, and none can walk, of course. It is a world I’ve rarely thought about—indeed, a world many of us rarely consider, because in its theater of human need are scenes of unremitting hopelessness. It is a languageless suffering and it perdures. I can become very mystified, very shallow-breathed thinking about his care for these souls, however quick he’s been to dissuade me from romanticizing or elevating his ministrations. “One of my verbal residents tells me to fuck myself all the time,” he’s noted. Still, I would point out that birth defects and accidents account for a small percentage of his caseloads’ impairments, and that active neglect and abuse perpetrated intentionally by former guardians (or unwittingly by the American healthcare complex) have hobbled his charges for life. I don’t like hearing stories about choked babies and toddlers left so long in beds their soft bones grow slab-wise, so I’ve asked him, coward that I am, to please skip origins if he’s entering an otherwise benign workaday anecdote.  

His most patient complaint: using his iPhone to FaceTime parents who want to see their son, then listening to one-sided conversations, burbling, giggles, tears, even story-time. His campus closed to all guardians—a devastating precaution. “Don’t send anything xrated today,” he’d text, and I’d know he was hosting a reunion. So I’d keep my clothes on. And he’d answer the phone from an immediately weeping seventy-year-old mother saying, to her forty-year-old son, “Why good evening, Max, good evening. This is your mother. Hi, baby. Hi. I love you. I am your mother. I will always be your mother. I am sorry I cannot touch you, I cannot hold you, I cannot be with you in this time, but you are my Max, and I am your mother. And I love you always. You can hear me and I’m gonna tell you all about my week, okay? And then I’m gonna ask Scotty here how you’ve spent your week, okay?” He said he usually cries on these calls and when I asked why, he said, “Because it seems polite?” And I pressed harder and he said, “Because I get to—I get to connect these people who have missed each other so much, and it’s so sad. They haven’t touched in months. They might not touch this year. My phone sometimes runs out of battery. It’s so weird.”

I’ve asked him whether families are happy to be rid of their incredible dependents and he said that by and large families are miserable to give over members to the institution: that age arbitrates the giving. “A mother and father have a baby at twenty-five. They can care for him well into their fifties—their twenty-five-year-old, their thirty-year-old son. But when these parents enter their sixties? Their seventies? They can’t lift an adult male. They can’t bathe him or change him. Even basic nutrition gets hard. Meal prep is tiring. It’s long. They start to lose track of medications, and they have medications themselves, you know? So the situation gets very difficult and if they want to live, and if they want him to live, they feel like they have to give him up.”

We’re at the point now where intimacy is a given. He doesn’t swallow, but brings me to orgasm, taking me in his mouth and then dribbles it, I guess, my cum, back onto my stomach, apologizing with a flushed red smirk. “I hate that,” he says, “I really hate it.”

“Go ahead, eat it,” I say, joking.

He gives me dark eyes and showily palms the wad into the black pillowcase behind my head.

“Holy Christ!” I yell. “The nerve! The pluck! The audacity!”

There must be a phase in relationships when extracting intimacies—not only of the “terrible things I did in high school”-vein, or the “times I cheated”-vein, or the “unwittingly right wing ideologies I support”-vein—that close couples endeavor. Where you’re always compulsively revelatory, to seem as interesting as you did in early courtship, as erotically forward and emotionally captivating. We’re in that moment and we surprise one another with small tributes as befits that level of affection.

One of the intimacies I proffered is that I’m going through a religious re-awakening, a need for ritual and sacraments. He finds this funny. (I find it embarrassing.) Yet one of his duties has been wheeling charges to his building’s Tuesday Mass, and then helping to administer the Eucharist. I don’t think he in fact touches the host (I don’t think many in his care can safely take of the host; “I’m mostly there in case anyone seizes,” he said), but he did slip a large wafer away for me and now it’s in my apartment, among my candles, possibly growing mold. He asks me when I’m going to eat it and I tell him around Christmas. 

(That was a lie. I’ll eat it when our romance is over, to consecrate the time we had.)

“I eat it,” I say, and he glowers.

I TOLD HIM ABOUT A MYSTERY SURROUNDING MY FAVORITE AUTHOR

Norman Rush. For a decade and better I’ve wondered about the long dedication in Mating, whose last lines read, “...and to the memory of my father, and to my lost child, Liza.” The novel, set in Botswana and borrowing heavily from Rush’s time there as director in the Peace Corps, suggests that perhaps Liza died in Africa or was born still. She goes unmentioned in his Paris Review interview, in subsequent novels, short stories, and reviews. There’s no hint of Liza’s fate. (As I edit this, I recall a phrase in Mortals, the narrator’s idea that “children exposed you to hellmouth, which was the opening of the mouth of hell right in front of you.” Explaining further: “[I]t was the grandmother, the daughter, the granddaughter tumbling through the air, blown out of the airplane by a bomb, the three generations falling and seeing one another fall, down, down, onto the Argolid mountains. With children you created more thin places in the world for hellmouth to break through.” And then, in Subtle Bodies, Rush describes a wayward teen boy, whose angry and aggressive behavior corresponds exactly to Rush’s own troubled teen son. In fact, Subtle Bodies is about the decision to have children at all. Nina follows Ned to a funeral, to fuck him. So, Rush has indeed remarked on children and strife, as he has lived it. Anyhow—) Yet by accident I listened to an old Fresh Air interview where Rush is asked to comment on the aspect of family in his novels, and to clarify that inscription. 

“I have a daughter who is now thirty,” he says, “who was born with diffuse brain atrophy and has been institutionalized for many years. Um. But I think the rest is pretty self-explanatory.”

“What was her condition?” presses his interlocutor.

“She is uh profoundly retarded,” pauses, “and will be so.”

“So you feel she is lost to you?”

“Yes. There is no recognition possible between her and us.”

I reproduced this exchange from notes on my phone. Scotty replied, “I don’t think that’s right, actually. Maybe between her and—who—who was it?”

“Norman Rush and his daughter Liza.”

He said, “Maybe between Liza and her dad—yeah, maybe she was so disabled she couldn’t recognize him. I take care of men like that. But I recognize them.”

We were talking about important books at all (I mean that semi-seriously) because his co-worker had gifted him three works, including a volume of Yeats’ complete poetry.

“Why did Paco give you Yeats?” I asked.

“He thinks I need more poetry,” said Scotty.

(Frankly I have felt and still feel sexual jealousy against Paco, who recently got brilliant red and black knee tattoos of spider webs. Like, Spider-Man spiderwebs, covering both kneecaps. Every few weeks he cooks a large meal for Scotty, and they talk about life until 4 A.M. drunk on bourbon, immobilized by edibles, full and warm and caring, and it makes me mad. It makes me mad, because I can’t really see the point of staying up until the uncomfortable small hours between 2 and 5 unless there is sex involved, but Paco is straight, a father, an excellent chef, a dedicated friend, and so my grousing is a kind of unwarranted possession that baffles me into silence on the matter.)

I didn’t have anything intelligent left to say about Norman Rush. I groped along a narrow thought, however, a thin ledge. “You know—a novelist, especially a novelist as concerned with language and comprehension as Norman Rush, would feel particularly devastated by the condition of his daughter. He would see it as ironic and then as punitive and again as senseless—supporting his comforting regime of a militant atheism.”

Although very sober, I recited the first stanza of The Second Coming, tripping over two lines (but the best lines), saying, “The worst lack all conviction, while the best/Are full of passionate intensity.”

“What?” said Scotty.

“I just—that was Yeats.”

“Who?”

“Go ahead and tell your boy Paco that your hot fuck gave you a teach on William. Butler. Yeats.”

“What?” said Scotty. He grinned at me. He got up and ate a yogurt.

[therainroguefanfiction]

❉ 139 Dreams (Naga) Instinct

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life ☁

Word Count: 3,371 ☁

Pairing: Reader x Naga ☁

World: Beelzebub ☁

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

It was the day after the battle of Himekawa’s home and Oga was still unconscious. Everyone was recovering from their injuries, you included. A sigh passed your lips as you held onto the sides of the sink, watching the water swirl down the drain. The pain in your back was much worse than it had been yesterday with all of the adrenaline gone from your system, but you didn’t have time to relax. Shaking your head, you shut the water off and dried your hands before leaving the bathroom.

“Y/N!” Furuichi whispered your name harshly, grabbing your arm as if his life depended on it. His eyes were wide with fear.

“What’s wrong? Did Beel punch you in the nuts again?”

“He’s gone!”

Panic gripped at your heart, your body tensing up. This increased the pain in your back, but that was the last thing on your mind. “What do you mean he’s gone?!”

“He was jumping on Oga’s face so I told him to stop and set him on the ground. I turned around for a second and when I looked back he was gone!”

“Calm down!” You smacked him in the head. “He’s probably just hiding. Look in every crevice!”

The two of you scoured the house, looking under furniture, in cabinets, and Furuichi even looked inside the cookie jar a couple of times, but the baby demon lord was nowhere to be found. Honoka, his younger sister, watched the two of you curiously as your panic grew.

“What are you guys looking for?” She questioned, sweatdropping as her brother ripped open the couch cushions.

“Baby Beel is gone!” He cried, tears streaming down his face. “Hilda-san is going to kill us!!”

You lowered your head, nervous sweat rolling down your cheek. Even though Furuichi was technically the one who lost baby Beel, you knew that information would be irrelevant to Hilda. No matter who was at fault, both of you had been entrusted with Beel’s safety while she and Oga were recovering. Not only that, but you had grown quite attached to the green-haired infant.

“Oh, he crawled outside a few minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you stop him?!” The two of you chorused before rushing out the door, getting stuck in the doorframe because it wasn’t big enough to fit both of you at the same time. Once outside, the two of you went in opposite directions, promising to call if either of you found anything.

‘Damn it, Beel, where did you go?’

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

Naga stood within the park, watching the water splash across the fountain as he went over yesterday’s battle in his mind. The humans had definitely surprised him.

“Dabuh!”

He glanced over, seeing baby Beel waddling along, eyes sparkling as he chased a monarch butterfly across the park. Naga glanced around, but he didn’t spot any of the demon lord’s retainers. With a frown, he approached the infant. “Beelze-sama?”

Beel paused, turning to look at the older demon. His eyes sparkled even brighter as he remembered their fight and he suddenly launched himself, his small foot hitting Naga in the stomach. As soon as he landed on his feet, he started punching the man’s legs with his small fists.

Naga sweatdropped. “Beelze-sama, why are you alone?”

Beel looked up at him indignantly, waving his arms frantically as he babbled.

Tilting his head to the side, the demon began to translate. “You were yelled at for jumping on your contract holder’s face while he was unconscious?”

“Da!” Beel folded his arms angrily.

“I see,” He leaned down, gently grabbing the infant under the arms so he could bring him to his chest. “It isn’t safe for you to be running around alone.”

Just then, you broke through the treeline, out of breath and frantic. “Beel!” When your eyes landed on the blue-haired male, you had to force yourself to stay calm. “Release him, Naga!”

His rich blue eyes met yours and you felt your resolve waver. You knew he was much stronger than you, plus… he’s so damn attractive. “You should keep a closer watch over Beelze-sama.” He gently set the baby down, watching as Beel cried cheerfully and launched himself at you.

You threw yourself to your knees, pulling him to your chest in a bone-crushing hug. “I’m so glad you’re safe…” You pulled back so you could see his face, holding him by the shoulders so he wouldn’t run again. “What the hell were you thinking, Beel? You can’t just run off every time you don’t get your way!”

Tears filled his eyes as you scolded him.

Your stern expression softened and you gently ruffled his hair. “I was really worried about you, ya know. With all of the recent chaos, so many bad scenarios went through my mind…” You shook your head and smiled, bringing him into your arms again. “But you’re safe, and that’s all that matters.”

Beel cheered happily, throwing his short arms around your neck.

‘Demon lord or not, at the end of the day, he’s still just a kid.’ You chuckled to yourself, readjusting him as you stood up, suddenly remembering that you weren’t alone. Hesitantly, you stepped closer to the blue-haired demon.

Naga watched you closely, his face betraying no emotion.

You cleared your throat awkwardly. “Thank you… for not hurting Beel.”

“Although I am loyal to En-sama, I would never allow harm to come to Beelze-sama.” He answered.

You sweatdropped, ‘Even though you guys were technically fighting him…’

As if sensing your thoughts, his eyes narrowed at you.

You took a step back, clearing your throat before addressing Beel. “Are you hungry?”

“Da!”

“Shouko-san messaged me asking me to pick up some stuff for dinner. Are you up for a little shopping? I’ll buy you a toy if you behave.”

“Dabu!” He cheered, thrusting his arm into the air.

You chuckled at him, giving one last glance to Naga before turning and beginning to walk away. Beel started to wiggle in your grasp, pointing back at Naga as he babbled loudly.

Naga tilted his head in surprise. “You want me to accompany you?”

The infant nodded and Naga turned his gaze to you, but you refused to meet his gorgeous eyes. Beel narrowed his eyes at you smugly and you cursed under your breath. ‘This damn brat is playing with me…’

On instinct, you wanted to tell him no and just leave with him kicking and screaming, but you knew it wouldn’t be that simple. What Beel wanted, he got, or anyone within his vicinity would get the shock of their life. With a sigh, you nodded and continued to walk, Naga easily catching up to you.

The three of you walked in silence, Beel perched on your right shoulder. You got a lot of dirty looks from older women, but you didn’t even notice them, too pre-occupied wrestling with your feelings and thoughts. No matter how you looked at it, you just couldn’t understand this hold that Naga seemed to have over you.

You didn’t have a history together. In fact, you had met him for the first time when he came to the human world a week ago. Even then, no words had been exchanged between you. You had just arrived to save Toujou’s ass when he and Graphel were preparing to leave. Your eyes had met his briefly and it felt like he placed a spell upon you.

And then there was yesterday. You should’ve been worried about Oga, about what Beel’s power might do to him, but no matter how hard you tried, your eyes wouldn’t leave Naga for more than a few seconds. Your heart would skip painfully every time he took a hit. Most embarrassingly, when Oga and Beel unleashed their final attack, you had screamed out Naga’s name.

In your heart, you had hoped and prayed that the male was okay. The relief you felt to see him alive after the battle couldn’t be put into words, but as you carried Oga to Furuichi’s house, you couldn’t help feeling guilt pool in your stomach. Oga was your best friend, and you had grown quite attached to Baby Beel and the demons that served him, yet there you had been, all but cheering for the enemy.

Hilda had confronted you about it, demanding an explanation, but you couldn’t provide one. You could only hang your head in shame and apologize profusely. She hadn’t even said anything to you in return, she simply turned and walked away. Somehow, that had hurt a lot more than if she had just yelled at you for an hour.

Beel tilted his head curiously when you stopped walking, head lowered in shame. Naga stopped as well, regarding you with the same curiosity. “Dabu?”

You snapped out of your self-loathing thoughts, smiling sadly at the infant. “Sorry, got caught up.” He didn’t understand what you meant, he was just happy that you had started walking again.

When you made it to the grocery store, you pulled off your white overshirt, setting it on the cart before seating Beel on top. Naga’s eyes focused on the bandages peeking out from beneath your tank top and he remembered the wound given to you during the battle by Hecadoth’s spear, along with the amount of blood you had lost.

You pushed the cart with one hand, pulling out your phone with the other so you could look at the list Oga’s mother had sent you. Even though Oga was staying at Furuichi’s house to prevent her from finding out about her unconscious son, she wanted to make a big pot of roast stew to share with the Furuichi family – a sort of thank you for putting up with her son.

The trip was going well. You’d pick up an ingredient and hand it to Beel, who would then stack them carefully in the cart. He was being very well-behaved, which you were thankful for. You weren’t sure you could handle it if he started throwing a tantrum. Every now and then, you’d glance back at Naga, who was following quietly and curiously inspecting the human food lined up on the shelves.

‘Maybe we can complete this trip without any headaches,’ you thought, but you made the mistake of walking by the toy aisle. Beel caught sight of them and jumped out of the cart, screaming loudly as his feet slapped the linoleum floor.

“Beel!” You cried in surprise, chasing after him. “We’re here for food first. I said I’d get you a toy if you behaved.”

But the infant ignored you, head whipping back and forth as he tried to decide which toy to play with first. He glanced up at the top shelf and started to babble loudly, jumping up and down while pointing at the stuffed bunny.

You frowned. “I can’t reach that, Beel.”

“Da!” He stomped his foot and folded his arms, looking at you with an annoyed expression.

With a sigh, you stepped over to stand in front of the toy, picking up the infant. He put his feet on your shoulder and reached up, huffing angrily when he couldn’t reach it. He crawled on top of your head, making your eye twitch as his small feet dug into your skull. With a jump, he managed to clasp his hand around one of the bunny’s ears, pulling it down as he fell. You caught him in your arms, the large squishmallow falling on top of him.

“Are you happy now?” you questioned.

Beel squealed, hugging the bunny tight around the neck.

You smiled and, as you set him back in the cart, you caught Naga’s eye. He was watching the two of you with amusement shimmering in his dark eyes. You quickly looked away, ignoring the heat in your face. ‘Let’s get this over with so I can go home. I can’t breathe properly with this guy around!’

You completed the list and made it through checkout without a problem, but when you tried to lift all of the bags at once, a sharp pain shot through the wound on your back. You ground your teeth, re-adjusting the bags in your left hand before reaching for the few that you had dropped. Naga got to them first, lifting them off the ground before turning to look at you. As much as you wanted to, you just couldn’t bring yourself to complain and just brushed past him and out of the sliding doors.

Rather than going straight to the Oga residence, you stopped by your house so you could feed Beel, who was beginning to get fussy. You kicked the front door open, flicking the light on as you entered the kitchen. A grunt passed your lips at the strain of lifting the bags onto the counter. Beel, being familiar with your home, ran straight for the stairs, his arm clutched tightly around the bunny’s neck.

“You’re bleeding,” Naga commented.

“What?” You reached around to touch your back, feeling blood on your fingertips. It had soaked through the bandages. ‘Shit, I think I re-opened the wound lifting all those bags.’

“Take your shirt off,”

Your head whipped around to face him, face going red. His face was back to a blank slate as he waited patiently for you to follow his command. “I’ll uh… I’ll get the first aid kit,”

“Just sit down.”

Slowly, you lifted the tank top over your head before pressing your chest to the back of the chair as you sat down.

Naga tugged at his gloves with his teeth and the sight sent a wave of heat through your body. How could a demon, your enemy, look so damn sexy? The sight made you lower your head, burying your warm face against your arms. Setting his gloves on the table, he got to work unwrapping the blood-soaked bandages, eyes scanning the wound that ran from your right shoulder blade to your lower back.

He channeled some of his power into the tips of his fingers before running them along the length of the wound, just barely grazing your skin. Goosebumps erupted across your skin as the plain slowly started to fade before growing numb.

“Where is the kit?” He questioned, softly.

“Above the kitchen sink,”

He nodded, pulling the square white box from the cabinet before returning. His hands were gentle as they placed gauze over the wound before wrapping the bandages around your body. Every once in a while, his hands would brush against your skin and you’d have to suppress a shudder. When he was done, he returned the kit to the cabinet and washed his hands.

“Thank you,” you mumbled softly, tugging on the white overshirt. You could feel him watching you as you started to prepare a bottle for Beel, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. There was so much you wanted to ask him, but you just couldn’t get the nerve to do so. With the bottle prepared, you shook it back and forth, holding your finger over the tip to prevent the milk from going everywhere. ‘Now I just have to sit here awkwardly until it cools off…’

Naga watched you closely, his own mind running wild with various questions. He wasn’t dumb, nor was he oblivious – he was well aware of your support and concern over him, but the reason why eluded him. Your loyalty to Oga and Beel was true, that much was obvious, yet you had been concerned for his own welfare. He wanted to know why. “After Oga’s final attack, you cried out my name and broke my fall. Why?”

Your body tensed up. ‘Shit, I didn’t think he’d be so direct! What do I say? I don’t know why I did it, either!‘ The events of yesterday flashed through your mind. Seeing him fall from the sky… your body had moved on its own accord. You remembered the pain of your injured back slamming through the building. You remembered your arms around him, how warm his body felt against your own, the scent of water lily and eucalyptus filling your nostrils. If Yolda hadn’t tried to attack you, you honestly doubted that you would have left him go.

You frowned. Nothing made any sense to you, you just wanted to hold him and forget about the world. You shook a bit of the milk onto your wrist to check the temperature, and when you spoke, you were barely able to get the words out. “Can you please go get Beel?”

You needed room to breathe and regain your senses.

Naga stared at you for a moment before turning and leaving the kitchen. You released a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding. In all of your life, you had never experienced the things this man was making you feel. And he wasn’t even a man, he was a demon! Your enemy, sent here to destroy the human world and defeat Beel. You should hate him, be repulsed by him. So, why couldn’t you bring yourself to feel that way?

He returned a few moments later, carrying Beel in his arms. The ear of the bunny was clutched in Beel’s tiny hand as he was sat down on the table.

“Here, Beel.” You offered him the bottle and his eyes sparkled. Holding out your hand, he set the pacifier against your palm before taking the bottle, happily chugging down the milk.

You stifled a yawn as you leaned back against the chair. You felt exhausted, both mentally and physically, but it was barely one in the afternoon and you just couldn’t trust Furuichi to watch over Beel long enough for you to take a nap. ‘Damn idiot is useless,’

“Dabu!” Beel slammed the empty bottle onto the table, holding his hand out for his pacifier. Once it was back in his mouth, he jumped off the table and ran to the sliding glass doors leading out to the backyard. He wanted to go outside and play.

You moved to stand, but Naga held his hand out to stop you, making your brow furrow in confusion.

“Your body needs rest to recover properly. I will watch over Beelze-sama while he plays.”

You looked at him, uncertain. You had always been taught to trust your instincts, and they were telling you that he could be trusted, but after that morning’s incident with Furuichi, you weren’t prepared to trust him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. He can be a handful and you’re not used to him. Besides, I’m perfectly fine.”

Naga sighed, “Such a stubborn human.” He lifted two fingers to your forehead and a wave of drowsiness rolled over you, your eyelids sagging. You fought hard against the darkness slowly encroaching on your mind, but your efforts were in vain and your head fell to the kitchen table.

Beel made a worried noise as he looked up at you, tugging on your pant leg.

Naga gently patted the infant’s head. “Fear not, Beelze-sama, Y/N is just sleeping. Shall we?” He slid the door open and Beel forgot all about you when he spotted a butterfly fluttering on the breeze. Naga glanced over his shoulder at you.

Your face was turned toward the door, chest rising and falling steadily. You looked so peaceful and content. He wasn’t very fond of humans, he thought they were weak and ignorant, and he certainly didn’t believe they were good enough to be around the children of the great demon lord. Humans were disrespectful, talking to royalty like they were mere humans. However…

His expression softened as he watched you sleep.

You fit into all of the categories he had mentioned – you were much weaker than he was, and ignorant enough to try going toe to toe with a demon. You scolded Beel and didn’t respect him for the demon prince he is, but at the same time, you clearly cared deeply for the child and… for some reason unknown to him, you cared deeply for him, too.

His feelings toward you were growing complicated.

He shook his head, turning his attention back to baby Beel as he ran back and forth across the yard. ‘I suppose Y/N can be the exception… for now.’

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

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[ghostyprince]

“I paid $40 so I better die.” with shyan, PLEASE

I’m sooo glad you asked for this!! I saw that one and I was like o h that’s Shane. This got so fucking long compared to what I was planning to write lol. I hope you like this, thanks for the prompt Nini!

[Read on AO3]

Dread settles over Ryan as soon as they pass the entrance of the haunted house. It’s something new and albeit a bit expensive, only available for about a week in this part of LA, a special little thing to put everyone in the mood for Halloween that’s approaching rapidly.

So when Shane brought up the idea that they should check it out Ryan agreed without hesitation. He loves everything spooky, after all. Loves the adrenaline rush of watching a classic horror movie, or walking into a dusty old place with a history he was spilling over, deep in hours upon hours of research.

Still, appreciating the scare after he’s safe and sound in their hotel room, or stumbling into Shane’s arms lately after the shooting of a particularly difficult to deal with episode is very different from experiencing the damn thing right at the moment with all of his senses and nerves on fire and on edge.

He scoots closer to Shane, just barely, like he’s being all smooth and nonchalant, like the place doesn’t scare the living shit out of him already, but he still has some pride left, goddammit.

“They weren’t kidding in all those ads, huh?” He asks just to break the silence as Shane takes his hand. He reads Ryan so well, he always does.

The warmth of Shane’s big hand on his, their fingers twining together eases something inside him. They officially stepped over the line they’ve been tiptoeing around for months, years even almost a week ago now, but Ryan’s is stomach still does a little flip when they touch each other like this when Shane smiles at him like Ryan is something precious.

“Looks about as most locations we’ve been to. Maybe a little dirtier. But then again, it’s fake dirt so it doesn’t count.”

“I read someone got a heart attack while trying to complete this.” Ryan goes on as he starts walking finally, even though his legs still feel incredibly heavy and his fight and flight senses are yelling at him to get out.

“That’s probably bullshit! I’d say that too if I’d own the place, people love a good story.” Shane scoffs as he squeezes Ryan’s hand, there is a hint of encouragement in it.

It doesn’t do much to ease his mind as he’s trying to make out anything at the end of the hallway, it being just dark enough to fuzz his vision and make shadows and shapes form, taunting him. Regardless, Ryan appreciates the sentiment.

“Say what you want dude, I already feel like I’m on the edge of a heart attack and we barely walked two minutes.” Ryan laughs, it sounds nervous and a little hysterical even to his own ears. He can’t believe he’s losing it already from a poorly lit grimy corridor.

“I paid $40 for this shit, so I better die.”

“Shane!” Ryan wheezes again and the icy grip on his heart lets go just a tiny bit. He sees Shane smiling like he always does when Ryan laughs at his jokes, there is a lazy satisfaction to it and he looks almost proud.

Especially when he’s about to freak out and Shane pulls him back from the edge with a little quip that’s not even that funny but it’s familiar. It says I care about you and I want to take your mind off the thing that scares you or I’m here and nothing bad will happen, everything is okay.

It’s one of the many reasons why Ryan is so in love with him.

They take a turn at the end of the hallway where nothing was waiting for them, thank fucking god. Although, the dead quiet that’s only interrupted by their footsteps might be slightly worse.

About half-way through this nightmare place Ryan never ever wants to experience again, he had to realize Shane didn’t pay $40 to die. He paid to have Ryan cling to him for thirty minutes straight and he seemed completely okay with that. The bastard knew what will happen all along.

Despite that, Ryan wasn’t complaining either, he’s been tightly pressed against Shane’s side like they’ve been glued together, They’ve been walking like that ever since a clown with the creepiest facepaint he had ever seen just leaned out of a window right in front of him. Shane laughed like it was the funniest thing he’s ever seen and Ryan refused to even touch him for a whole three minutes until another guy started getting uncomfortably close.

They’re still barely twenty minutes in and Ryan’s shaking, clutching at Shane’s denim jacket as he’s desperately trying to think of anything else but the thin, pale girl following them for more than ten minutes now. Ryan heard the quiet footsteps that belonged to none of them and almost shit himself when he glanced behind and spotted her. She almost looked normal, like she could be a guest too if it wasn’t for her zombie-like appearance and dead eyes. She was a damn good actor, that’s for sure. The constant looming presence of her behind them puts Ryan on edge as nothing else did before.

But Ryan thought that’s probably the point. It’s a very good scare tactic and he honest to God thinks this is the best use of 40 bucks he could ever spend.

Shane’s long arm wrapped around his shoulder proves to be a good distraction, just like the occasional small kisses he presses into Ryan’s hair. Ryan is hot, probably sweating profusely, he’s gonna be all gross when they finally emerge but Shane’s a warm solid presence next to him, reminding him that everything is okay as long as Shane’s there.

Shane pulls him close when Ryan jumps a little too much after an actor gave them a good spook, startling even Shane, but he takes it like it’s barely anything and Ryan admires that, even though he doesn’t quite understand it. He’s dating a fucking demon.

“I don’t know how you do it. How am I the only one freaking out here?” He says softly, painfully aware of how thin his voice is.

“I am too, a little,” Shane admits. “But I’m also too preoccupied with keeping your heartrate just low enough so you won’t die on me and your little ghost won’t get stuck in a place like this. It’d be depressing.”

“Well, you’re doing a good job.” Ryan lets out a shaky laugh and then stops dead in his tracks. He was about to tease Shane about admitting to the existence of ghosts when he felt a cold hand at the back of his neck like someone was slowly dragging up a finger from his spine to the base of his skull.

It couldn’t have been Shane, his arm is currently wrapped around Ryan’s shoulders, rubbing tight little circles on his upper arm. And when Ryan realizes that, he fucking lets out a yelp, yanking a very startled Shane down with the motion of hooking his arms around his neck.

“What-? What happened?” Shane doesn’t hesitate for a moment to envelop him in a tight hug, sounding actually concerned now.

“Something touched my neck! I felt it. Fuck this, I cant- I hate this place, we need to get the fuck out, Shane.” Ryan can barely form a coherent thought, the words just stumble out of his lips, nearly drowned out by the pounding of his heart in his ear.

Two big, warm hands cup the sides of his as Ryan blinks once and then twice, finally seeing Shane clearly in front of him, goofy smile and all, but eyes full of concern.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Shane asks, lips twitching when he uses the nickname like he didn’t quite mean to say that, it just happened. Which seemed to be a theme when it comes to their relationship, Ryan thinks.

Ryan didn’t mean to throw all his previous fear out the window and kiss Shane at the office party celebrating the end of another amazing and successful season. It just happened. The cocktails he had certainly helped, but it’s been building for a while, and it didn’t matter they both were a little tipsy.It didn’t matter that Ryan squarely missed Shane’s lips and ended up pressing his lips against his chin because Shane’s too goddamn tall and can’t take a fucking hint to just lean down when Ryan is finally brave enough to make a move on him.

To be fair, Shane did, eventually, only for both of them to start laughing against each other’s lips, hardly doing any kissing at all.

But it was surprisingly easy to ask him out after that and take the same bed in their shared hotel room, tangled up, being brave enough to do so now, going to sleep with the promise of dinner together the next day. Just the two of them.

And that’s the thing, everything is so easy with Shane around, even calming the fuck down when something that didn’t quite feel human for sure touched Ryan’s neck.

Ryan wraps his hands around Shane’s wrists, Shane’s hands are still on his face, his thumbs gently stroking Ryan’s cheeks, always so so patient when it comes to calming him down and Ryan’s heart flutters happily.

“Yeah, sorry. Got a little lost in my head. Did you just call me sweetheart?” He asks with that special smile of his that’s only for the occasions of teasing Shane. It works every single time flawlessly.

“Apparently, I did. Any complaints?” He raises his eyebrows, in a challenge, just what Ryan expected. Ryan responds in a way he would’ve done the exact opposite of many years ago. He would’ve laughed and pushed him away, mumbling some nervous half-joke about Shane being weird. Right now, however, he’s pulling Shane down once again, kissing him shamelessly.It’s messy and desperate, probably at least a little inappropriate for the time and place, but it’s a distraction for his frayed nerves.

“No complaints here, big guy.” Ryan murmurs before giving him a last peck on the lips, satisfied with the slightly stunned phase he left Shane in. He wishes he could see him flush. “We should go, I’m okay. Let’s fucking finish this bad boy so I never have to think about this place ever again.”

Ryan’s legs almost give in relief as the last hallways start to get a little brighter than the rest of this terror maze. They made it, they reached the end. To celebrate that fact Ryan stops and pulls his phone out, trying to find the perfect angle that captures them both.

“Are you taking a selfie with me right now?” Shane laughs, brightly, eyes crinkling and there it is, Ryan quickly takes the photo. It’s perfect. “You were hyperventilating not even five minutes ago.” Shane points out, one hand slipping around Ryan’s waist, a move that became natural for them both quickly, that’s evident by the way Ryan melts against him immediately.

They’re stumbling out into the sunlight, their positions making it a bit difficult to walk, but none of them wants to let go. They’re flying high in their honeymoon phase, often annoying their friends and co-workers, but it’s nothing new, really, they’ve been doing that ever since they’ve known each other, getting lost in their little bubble way too often. It’s just a lot grosser now, as TJ kindly pointed it out after their latest Post Mortem.

Shane’s lips curl into a big grin and Ryan can feel the warmth of his face where it’s pressed against his shoulder when Ryan angles the screen so he can see it. The picture of them in Ryan’s Instagram story, captioned with ‘we’re finally out of this hellhole. my boyfriend is the devil.’

Calling Shane his boyfriend publicly gives him a bigger rush than any haunted house or horror movie in the world could. He guesses Shane feels the same if the tightening of his arms around Ryan’s waist and the big kiss pressed onto the base of his neck mean anything.“It wasn’t that scary, you know. Could’ve been worse.” Ryan says after they’ve finally started walking away, hands joined, lazily swaying between them. He laughs bright and loud at Shane’s incredulous expression and how he sputters, calling him out immediately.

“Why the hell were you freaking out then, huh? Wasn’t that scary my ass…” He huffs, slightly shaking his head, like he just can’t believe this guy.

“Alright, that lady following us was fucking creepy. Maybe she was the one who touched my neck.” Ryan reaches up to brush at the spot on the back of his neck. He can still feel it. Shane frowns at him though, quietly and looking very confused. It sends a chill down Ryan’s spine, dread gripping at his heart again when he says the exact thing Ryan was afraid he’d say. He didn’t even notice they both stopped walking.

“What lady?”

“What do you mean what lady?! She was following us for like ten minutes straight! Don’t tell me you didn’t notice her.” His voice goes high, and he feels like he might throw up and Shane has the audacity to shrug, infuriatingly nonchalant.

“Huh, must’ve missed her.” He says and starts walking again, leaving Ryan frozen in place for several seconds before having to run to catch up with those ridiculously long legs.

“Shane, don’t fucking do this to me, you had to have seen her! You fucking asshole!” He adds when Shane only answers with a delightful laugh.

[shewhowantsmouseears]

The Little Peach, Chapter 13

Notes: As always, thanks to my amazing editor, Drucilla!

Apologies for the delay, life was deciding not to give me any peace and quiet for a while. This will probably be done in a chapter or two - but while I have your attention, you should know I'm planning to take a hiatus once this story is over. I feel like I've been making stories nonstop for several years, and as a result I'm feeling kinda drained, and my writing is suffering for it. I'd like to take a few months to recharge my batteries before I jump into my next project. It shouldn't be any longer than January/February.

Thanks for understanding and sticking through for this crazy ride.

Summary: As Mickey's parents come to terms with their sins, Mickey is tempted to create one of his own that may doom all of Japan.

Given how impressively tall and expansive the palace was, finding a spare room for Donald and Daisy was as easy as turning the corner. They thanked the Princess profusely for her kindness, but once they were alone, husband and wife could feel themselves molting from stress. They sat opposite from each other on the floor, backs to one another, their bodies heavy with the words Mickey had thrust at them. Donald had, at least, expected Mickey to return for his mother's sake, but he hadn't realized the depth of Mickey's anger and feelings of betrayal. Now he was starting to wonder if Mickey ever would come home, and what kind of life they'd have without him.

“Am I a bad mother?” Daisy suddenly asked, breaking the silence so sharply Donald felt his heart seize up.

“What?” At first, the question didn't register.

“Am I a bad mother?” Daisy repeated, glancing back at Donald. “To have my baby feel that way about me...he always did complain about me not letting him out and around, but I thought he was acting like all children did.” Had she been so concerned about Mickey's safety that she never gave a thought to his happiness? The comment about Mickey being little more than a stuffed doll had done a number on her soul – looking back, what had Mickey been allowed to do? If he never talked back, he really would have been nothing more than a toy for her to play with, and that was no attitude for a mother to have. “Maybe the gods were right to make sure I never had a child...”

“Don't.” Donald reached out behind him, fumbling to take Daisy's hand. “You're not a...” The immediate thought was to deny all of Daisy's negativity, reassure her that was she was perfect and could do no wrong just so she wouldn't be upset. Yet as he looked back on their lives together, he knew it wasn't fixing things. He always did her best to make her stop crying that it never occurred to her that he should just let her cry. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd shed tears himself, as such things were seen as weakness in a samurai. And who had told him that?

“Y'know,” he said again, eyes out on the nearby window, watching the sun crawl through the day. “My parents, Quackmore and Hortense Duck...they weren't perfect. I don't think a single day ever went by without them having an argument over something silly. Then they'd turn around and argue with me and Della, then me and Della would argue with each other. Despite all that, I wanted to be just like my father...a brave samurai who protected the people without a trace of fear. He's the one who trained me...he's the one who taught me how to bottle up everything I felt, so I could focus on my duties. If you don't show yourself how you feel, your enemies won't see it either.”

“That is incredibly unhealthy, honey.”

“I didn't say it worked! You know my temper better than anyone. But my father didn't hate me or resent me, he thought he was doing what was best. And I think that's what you were doing too. Maybe it wasn't the right thing to do...but you never did it with any anger or malice. You love Mickey, and he knows it. There's no such thing as a perfect parent. And a parent's role doesn't end just because your baby isn't a baby anymore.”

He could feel Daisy trembling in his grip, and though it pained his heart to hear his beloved cry, he didn't try to stop it. Slowly, gently, he moved around to hold her in his arms, allowing her to sob into his chest. Grief and relief were mixed together, and as she cried, Donald looked at his injured arm, the one that had made him retire early and settle down with his bride. Looking back, his father had never said a word about it – no lectures of disappointment, no mocking of his abilities. Even if Donald was no longer what Quackmore had expected, it didn't stop Quackmore from loving his son and treating him like a member of the family. Donald had always thought he'd be the same type of father when he and Daisy were trying for children. But as he watched Daisy's wailing turn into more calmed sniffles, he realized that no one really understood parenthood until they became a parent. It was like being in combat – for all the hopes, lectures and lessons, nothing could teach a person better than actual experience.

Daisy's sobs eventually turned into gentle breathes, and she wiped her face with her sleeve. “Is he... really happy here?”

“I'd ask him, but I doubt he's in the mood to talk. But... the fact he landed a job here says a lot, I think.” He supposed sharing a last name helped Mickey get his foot in the door, but to actually keep a person this small on the job? Mickey must have done something right, though he couldn't be sure what it was. “Maybe he just needs some space. When it's the right time, we'll talk to him and...I guess we'll just see where we go from there.” If Mickey wanted to stay, Donald wasn't going to force him otherwise, as much as he wanted to. Mickey was an adult, even if he didn't look it, and given how shoddily Donald had treated him, did he have any right to tell Mickey what to do and where to go?

“You know...” Daisy sat up straighter, looking her husband in the eye. “You said I love Mickey, and yes, I do, with all my heart. But I haven't heard you say you love him. Can we really talk to him about his place in the family if you can't say it?” She didn't want to voice her real fear – did Donald love Mickey at all?

It was a justified fear, as Donald's silence was deafening. His tongue moved in his mouth, trying to form an answer that his mind wouldn't make. Any parent should be able to say “Yes, I love my child” automatically, shouldn't they? But Donald had shunned Mickey for so long, treated him as a disappointment instead of a person, and refused to get to know him. Now he knew the boy, and Mickey was apparently capable of great things – a good heart, a clever mind, and a strong will. These were things to be proud of, things Donald was sure he hadn't passed on to him, Mickey had developed them all on his own. Come to think of it, Mickey had every right in the world to be the opposite, given his size – but instead of looking at the world with hate and sadness, he wore a smile and helped others despite his disadvantage.

There was shuffling at the doorway, and both ducks were momentarily startled, so wrapped up in their family drama that the outside world had ceased to exist. The noises got louder, and Daisy got to her feet, eager for a distraction. She slid open the door, and saw Clarabelle trying to lift a heavy box, having to stop every now and then due to its weight. She  saw Pete as well, but he'd merely grabbed something from the box and dashed off before Clarabelle could admonish him. “What are you doing?” Daisy asked, tilting her head.

Clarabelle put the box down and wiped sweat from her forehead. “Oh, don't mind me! The Princess asked me to get rid of some things, and I'm doing it gladly! We'll be using this as kindling, maybe cook some sweet potatoes. I tell you, it's so gratifying to see her growing up!”

Daisy managed to take a peek at the inside of the boxes, which contained dozens of illustrated books. “Why is she getting rid of them?”

“She told me she doesn't need them anymore.” Granted, Minnie had decided to keep the first volume, “for the memories”, then decided she wanted to keep the volume that had the love confession, and the one with the special color illustrations, and then Clarabelle decided to quickly get to work before Minnie changed her mind altogether. “You know, she's started smiling a lot more since your son came to the palace. He's... not exactly who I'd choose, but I can't say I don't like him. A happy Princess makes for a happy land.”

Daisy was both pleased at her son making a genuine friend and terrified at the idea of losing her baby to a wedding. She shook her head, trying to stay grounded in reality. “Well, I can't just sit here and do nothing. Please, allow me to help!”

Given how many boxes and books were left in the Princess' room, Clarabelle was more than happy to have any help. “Sure thing! Just head out to the garden when you've got your hands full!”

Daisy glanced back at her husband, knowing he wouldn't be much help lifting heavy objects due to his injury, yet she was reluctant to leave him alone. “Is that all right, Donald?”

Donald nodded slowly. “Go ahead. I've got some thinking to do.” With permission granted, Daisy followed Clarabelle to the Princess' room. On his own, Donald began to pull out the sword on his belt, the one that had been handed down to him from his father, from his father, back many generations. Mickey would never be able to use it, but Donald could barely use it now. He stared at his reflection, unsure of the future.

~*~

It'd been several hours since Mickey had gone on “patrol”, but it really wound up with him storming up and down the hallways, so deep in his anger he wouldn't have actually noticed if an Oni had really shown up to cause trouble. Anger at his parents for embarrassing him in front of the Princess and his friends, anger at them for trying to control his life, but also anger at himself for lashing out at them. Though he wouldn't take back what he said exactly, there probably had been gentler ways to go about it. He wanted to go back to Donald and Daisy and see if they were all right, but pride wouldn't allow him. After a while, he asked Pluto to stop so he could hop onto a windowsill and collect himself. His three-pronged headaches were making an annoying return.

He had always assumed that if he was bigger, that would automatically make things better with his family. His mother would stop babying him and Donald would accept him as a son. Yet now doubts were starting to creep in on his plan – Minnie and his friends liked Mickey exactly the way he was, so why couldn't his parents? Maybe talking to Minnie would make him feel better. Talking to her always seemed to make him feel better, and his tail began to swish around just by her mere presence in his mind. She liked him just the way he was, yes, that was why he didn't mind waiting for his size to change.

“There you are!” Pete's voice came from behind, surprising Mickey so much he almost fell out of the window. “I've been looking all over for you, kiddo!”

Mickey stood up, brushing himself down, the sun starting to set behind him. “What for? It's not about the Lucky Hammer again, is it?”

“Nooooo.” With every “o”, Mickey believed him less and less. “I just wanted to see how you were doing, pal! Seemed like you were having a rough time with your folks.”

It wasn't like Pete to care, but at the same time, Mickey did want to vent out his struggles. “They just don't understand what I've been going through. Why, they're the reason I came here in the first place. I can't go back with them when I haven't accomplished anything.”

“Right, right! Why, you've got a whole life here you've made for yourself!” Pete replied, hiding something behind his back. “You've become a real samurai, you've got those weird friends of yours, not to mention the Princess is fawning all over you.”

Mickey felt his face grow hot, and he sheepishly looked away, scratching the back of his head. “Aw, I – I dunno if I'd say fawning...” Though he did like the sound of it. No matter the problems with his parents, at least he could turn to her. He did have Pete to thank for the relationship upgrade, so maybe the big guy wasn't so bad, rude as he was.

“I sure would! Fawning's a pretty good word for what she does over you. Who cares that your old man never wanted you around? I say, good riddance to bad rubbish. The Princess, now she wants you! You're just the man she's been looking for!”

In hindsight, Mickey should have been terribly suspicious about this set-up, but Pete was saying what Mickey wanted to hear. Donald wouldn't accept him until he was taller, but Minnie wanted him here and now. He decided to bask in the compliments, beaming, crossing his arms and holding his head high. “Is that right? You really think so?”

“Of course I'm right!” Pete was smiling, but it wasn't a friendly smile. It was more like the way a snake sizes up its meal before going in for the gulp. “After all, you're exactly like the guy she actually wanted in the first place!”

Just as Pete had planned, the look of confusion struck instantly – Mickey blinked rapidly, unsure if he heard right. Even Pluto was cocking his head, making whining sounds of distrust. Pete let the sentence hang awkwardly in the air, allowing Mickey plenty of time to let his own doubts and self-loathing begin to rise up once more. “Wh...what are you talking about?”

“She didn't tell you?” Pete asked in mock surprise before whipping out the book he'd been hiding. “Funny, I thought she'd show you right away, seeing how much you look like her hero.” He licked his thumb, going through the pages until he found the right image. “Little lady's obsessed with this fake samurai, you can ask anyone who works here, they'll tell you the same! She wouldn't marry anyone unless they're just like him! And, wouldn't you know it...” He then turned the book around, showing Mickey a full color display of Sir Sakura – who for all the world looked exactly like Mickey, save for a few creative differences. “One day, he waltzes right into the palace! She must have thought it was a dream come true!”

Being as small as a peach pit for all his life, Mickey had no idea what a punch to the stomach really felt like – but perhaps this came close enough. He stared so deeply at the illustration that it was if he forgot how to blink. It was like looking into a bizarre mirror, and there was no mental loophole he could devise to get around it. Pete wouldn't tell a lie that would be easily corrected by asking around – who would? Mickey's shoulders began to sink, as did his heart. “She... she... she thinks I'm... this guy?” He asked softly, praying that Pete would tell him no, that somehow this was all made-up as part of a sadistic prank.

“Why else would she have you around?” Pete answered, his smile widening as he stabbed the knife deeper into Mickey's heart, twisting it around and watching Mickey's face crumbling in sheer agony. “Look at you, you're tiny! You couldn't protect a fly from a spider! You're a mama's boy who never learned how the world works! But, hey, you got a free ride to be Emperor, just because you look like a drawing! I say you hit the jackpot. No matter what you do, as long as you look like this guy, she'll want to be around you. Isn't that great?”

Now Mickey was afraid that if and when he finally did blink, he'd start to cry. Had Minnie only wanted him around because he looked like a man who didn't even exist? In a sick way, it was like his mother – who hadn't wanted him, but a little toy to coo and fuss over. He really did like talking with Minnie – had anything on her end been the truth? He wanted so desperately to believe it, but years of shame for being himself was stronger. Pluto whined, trying to reach up to push his nose in an affectionate nuzzle to Mickey's body, but Pete got in the way. “Hey, what's the long face for?” he asked as he tossed the book over his shoulder. “There's no use in getting upset over things you can't change. I mean, if there was some way to make people notice the real you, by taking away what made you different...”

And again, just as Pete had planned it, the nugget of an idea had been planted. Mickey began to lift his head up, the temptation hanging right above him. “Taking away what makes me different? What do you mean?”

“Well, just supposing...” Pete waved his hand, pretending this was all being made up on the spot. “If you were, I dunno, normal sized... people would have to get to know the real you, instead of making up assumptions about your size. Your mama wouldn't treat you like a doll, your daddy might call you his son, and who knows, maybe the Princess would actually see you, instead of someone the size of a page.” With the bait set, now it was only a matter of waiting.

Mickey's fists clenched up. Part of him knew exactly what Pete was saying, and what Pete was planning. It was cruel and manipulative – and it was working. He never asked to be this size, and yet all his life the only people he knew had forced their own ideas onto him. Now the girl he loved was doing the same. What was so wrong with being Mickey? Why couldn't they even attempt to see him? He swallowed hard, his throat feeling tight. “I... she... I promised Minnie... the Lucky Hammer not supposed to be used until we're married. And she promised her father... not to tell anyone where it was except for her husband.”

“But can you really be called her husband if she doesn't like you, but a made-up version of you?” Pete's smile hadn't left his face once. He enjoyed having painful power over people, and he missed being able to do this on the daily to his minions. Soon, that would all change, and he'd have an entire land of minions to boss around. In this moment, he felt extremely powerful. “In that case, I'd say she already broke her promise to her old man. Only fair for you to break it too. Whaddya say? Why don't you change your future, instead of waiting around for it?”

On this end, Mickey felt powerless. Save for breaking this bond of trust, there was nothing he could do to change his parent's mind or prove himself to Minnie. Would it really be so bad to be normal? He was only going to use it once. The headache was now so strong, he could feel them as if they were ready to stab through his skin, which made have made his anger and resentment worse. He exhaled deeply, and then commanded his dog, “Pluto, c'mere.”

Pluto whined, not liking where this was going, but he obediently pushed his head in so Mickey could climb on. “We're going to the Princess' room.”

“It's in her room?” Pete repeated, the smug smile finally taken off his face. Naturally, the one place a man wouldn't be allowed to enter! “Why that rotten little...” he grumbled a series of expletives that thankfully Mickey was too far away to hear. He then followed after Pluto quickly, shoving down his anger into his gut. There was no time to be angry – he had to make sure the Princess wasn't actually in her room. Gods forbid if she and Mickey actually had a healthy conversation to settle things, that would ruin the whole plan!

Coincidence after coincidence aided Pete – Minnie hadn't wanted her servants to do all the work (nor get rid of her favorite volumes) so she wound up trying to lug boxes with the rest of them. Pete, Pluto and Mickey poked their heads around the corner to see Minnie, Panchito and Jose – the birds doing their absolute best not to look at each other – lugging more boxes out into the hallway. No doubt they would all return for more, so they only had one chance to pull this off. They waited until they could no longer see Minnie, before tip-toeing to the room and carefully sliding the door open, not wanting to make a peep.

The sight of all those books that were still around made Mickey's stomach queasy – without realizing she'd gotten rid of most of them. Combined with the guilt of the promise being broken, and being in a girl's room without permission, it was taking every ounce of strength for Mickey not to upchuck.

“Where is it, where is it, where is it?” Pete hissed in a whisper – the closer he was getting to his goal, the more impatient he became.

Mickey slid off of Pluto's head, bouncing once on the floor before walking upright. “She said it's right... here.” He headed for the most obvious place in the room where any young girl would hide something important, a place so obvious that most people would have dismissed the idea since it was too obvious.

Which was why Mickey was scooting right under Minnie's bed.

Pete stared at the Princess' bed, covered in lace and satin and books, and slapped both of his hands to his face. It kept him from screaming swears to high heaven, and he thought that if this was the Emperor's idea, he wished the old man would come back to life so Pete could personally kill him. He pulled his face down hard, teeth gnashing, trying to control himself again. He was so close, he couldn't blow it now just because the Emperor was perhaps the dumbest person who had ever lived – or who had been such an overbearing parent that he thought keeping a powerful object underneath his daughter's bed would keep her from marrying ill suitors. Either way, he never thought he'd hate a corpse so much.

Still, there was only so much of his temper he could control, and instead of waiting for Mickey to pull out the Lucky Hammer, he reached over and grabbed the edge of the bed with one hand, leaning it over to one side with a crrrreaaaak. Mickey jumped a bit at this display of strength, but in a funny way found it comforting – Pete was already so big and strong, so he'd have no use for the Lucky Hammer himself, right? Surely he'd just come along for moral support in case Mickey chickened out.

As for the hammer itself?

It was certainly large, the head being wider and bigger than the handle, all of it golden and sparkling. Decorative wooden flames had been placed on both sides, along with a snake-like pattern curling around the hammer. At first Mickey thought the candles in the room were giving the Lucky Hammer wonderful glow, but upon closer inspection, the glow was coming from the hammer itself. It pulsated almost like a human heart, but in a soft and warm way, as if trying to assure all around that everything was okay. Just being near the divine weapon made Mickey feel a little light-headed, but he shook the feeling away with one hard nod of his head. Even though the Hammer obviously hadn't been touched in ages, there wasn't any trace of dust, rust or any sign that time had passed. It was as immortal as the gods, and Mickey momentarily felt very unworthy of it. Slowly, delicately, he walked toward the hammer, and lightly touched the handle.

He felt a pleasant spark ride through his hand, like a first kiss or the thrill of a fought victory. His heart began to beat harder than before, but through all this excitement, one important question remained. “How do I use it?” He asked Pete, his fingers twitching nervously. Mickey couldn't even make his fingers reach all around the handle, it was bigger than he was, like many things in life. The stories he heard merely said the Lucky Hammer made things bigger or smaller – how had never come up. What an awful time to realize such a thing! “Hm... well, hammers are usually for hitting things... am I supposed to hit myself with it?” Aside from being physically impossible, that would hurt like the dickens.

“All you have to do is shake it three times to change your size,” said Pete rather matter-of-factly.

“Oh, that's a relief.” Similarly, it took Mickey three seconds to realize another issue. “Wait, why do you know that?”

“You think I'd try stealing it for so long without making sure I knew how to use it?” Again, he enjoyed the dawning look of horrified realization on Mickey's face, and enjoyed it further when he reached down to yank the Lucky Hammer in his hands. “Man, oh man, I was sick of leaving those smoke messages to all those idiots across Japan. I heard some of them even thought about laying down their arms and giving up to live peacefully! They'll be the first ones I get rid of under my new rule!”

Pluto began to growl, standing in front of his gobsmacked master. Mickey began to shake, hoping any second now he'd wake up from this nightmare. “P-Pete... that was you, every night? Setting those fires, climbing up the palace? You were sending messages? To who?” Yet even as he asked, he had a terrible feeling he already knew, and that his selfishness had sealed the fate of Japan.

“Where are my manners?” Pete answered with a loud laugh, now no longer caring who heard him. He tossed the bed into a corner, and it crashed so hard it split in two, sending mountains of books to the floor. Mickey yelped, and Pluto grabbed him with his teeth, hoisting him onto his back before his master could be flattened. “I never introduced my real self, did I? But since you did me the great favor of getting me the Lucky Hammer, I think I owe you at least that!” He reached up to his head, and began to yank off his helmet. “I can finally take this cruddy thing off... you have any idea what it feels like to wear a helmet for years, as you sleep and bathe?” But he had a good reason why he never took it off – once it popped off, it revealed two garish horns sticking out of his forehead.

“Y-Y-You're an Oni!” Mickey sputtered, trying to pull out his needle sword, the makeshift weapon almost falling out of his hands due to his nerves.

“I ain't no ordinary Oni!” Pete shook the hammer once. “You're looking at the greatest, strongest, mightiest Oni there ever was!” He shook it twice.

“My pal, Mickey... I am THE ONI KING!”

With one last shake, Pete took on the same golden glow as the hammer, yellow and green mist encircling his entire body. He began to laugh, a horrendously strong belly laugh that grew louder as he grew taller – taller – taller – not stopping as his head hit the ceiling, not as his shoulders began destroying rooftops, as his elbows broke windows. Pluto ran as fast as he could as the bedroom began to rip apart all around them, the screams of scared servants echoing all across the dying palace. Mickey was afraid to even glance behind him to see the destruction Pete was leaving by him merely standing there, his laughter now reaching all across the kingdom, villagers rushing out of their homes as they felt the very earth shake.

Outside, the trees from the gardens began to topple over, the fence bending before breaking off and shooting off dangerous splinters across the air. Everyone within the palace had managed to make it out, although many were suffering from wounds and marks from the collapsing rooms. Donald held onto his wife, Clarabelle fainted into Goofy's arms, and the remaining samurai surrounded the devastated Princess, who watched Pete continue to grow, her mouth open but no words leaving her. Within seconds, the sun was blocked out, Pete's shadow encasing the entire kingdom in darkness.

And there Mickey stood, among his friends and family, watching Pete - the Oni King - take in his glory, feeling smaller than ever before.

[glitterrhowell]

Promises From The Dark

Title: Promises From The Dark

Series: Spooky week 2018

Pairing:  Daniel Howell & AmazingPhil (Phan

Word count: 2.3k

Warning/Genre: angst/death/murder/Halloween/major character death/morbid/dark/blood/gore/violence

Summary: Dan was so deeply in love with his boyfriend Phil he would do anything to be with him again. Even if that meant murder.

Read on Ao3

Read on Wattpad

This is part of a collection of eight stories I have written over the last few months for Autumn/Halloween. I am titling this series spooky week and will continue to update every day up until Halloween day!

A huge thank you to my other half Christy (Fadingcrystalvoid) for being with me since the start of the series listing to me rant and proofreading for me. Also for last minute betaing all these stories for me!

This is it he thought, the last one and it will all be complete. Dan watched the young man from the shadows of the alleyway. Sweat dripping down his face and heart pumping with adrenaline. No matter how many times he did this the initial feeling of fear was always there. But it was something that had to be done. It just had to be.

The man was clearly drunk and stumbling around on the sidewalk. Dan looked around making sure that the streets were completely empty before he reached out from the darkness of the shadowy alleyway and pulled the young man into its depths.

“Hey! Wh-at are you doing?” the man slurred, trying to pull out of his grasp.

Having been through this already multiple times he didn't answer instead he stuck the needle he was holding in the man's neck.

The hardest part of this was dragging the heavy body back to his car and then getting it up the stairs to his apartment so no one saw. Luckily for him, the neighbor on his left was an older grandma who was deaf and was most likely asleep at this time of night and the neighbor on his right was never home anyway.

After he determined the coast was clear he dragged the man's body from his car up the stairs to his flat. He wheezed after the third flight of stairs, mentally cursing himself for living on the six floor.

By the time he made it to his front door, he was out of breath and sweating profusely. As quickly as he could, he unlocked his door and drug the unconscious man through into his apartment.

He had to work fast as the sedative he used only lasted around an hour. He had learned his lesson the hard way. On his first “outing” as he liked to call them he had not set up his lab before getting the victim and while he set up the man had woken up and tried to run. He ended up having to kill that one without getting the part he needed. So he now set up everything before he went out to retrieve the person with the part he needed.

He had difficulty getting this one onto the table he hadn’t really noticed before that the man was much larger than his other victims. But finally, he let out a breath as he got the man up on the table. Securing the last of the straps he let out a little cheer of victory. Since the man was not awake yet he decided he wanted to go visit Phil.

He opened the door the bedroom right off where he had his lab set up and stepped inside. The air was cold and it was dark as he made his way over to the bed. Phil was just as he had been when he had left him earlier laying peaceful in his bed.

“Hey love how are you doing?” Dan brushed a piece of hair out of his eyes. He knew Phil wouldn’t answer him but a smile crept on his face knowing that soon that wouldn’t be a problem.

“This is it Philly, the last piece to the puzzle. Soon we will be together again,” he giggled giving him a kiss on the forehead.

Two months ago when Dan had lost his boyfriend Phil in a car accident he had been utterly distraught and devastated. No matter who tried to cheer him up he was just inconsolable. He couldn't imagine life without Phil; they had been best friends since they were little and boyfriends for the past ten years. Phil was everything he had and the only thing he ever knew.

The depression had gotten so bad he’d made a plan to jump off the bridge in the middle of town to end his life so he could be with Phil again. But something big that happened at work had stopped him.

Dan worked in a lab where they tested knew serums and stuff on animals and the latest serum that his company had been working on was the resurrection serum. No one aside from a few actually believed this serum would ever really work. But that all changed one night when one of their rat test subjects died. His colleges decided why not try the latest version on the rat, the college had figured it couldn’t do any harm. And it didn’t do any harm, in fact, the rat sprung back to life running around its cage like it just hadn’t been laying there lifeless a moment ago. And that’s when his plan had started to form.

Since Phil had died in a car accident normally it wouldn’t have been a problem but after his death, he learned that Phil being the big generous oaf he was had decided to donate all his organs to people who needed them. Dan had pleaded with hospital staff claiming it went against their religious beliefs but they told him since Phil had signed the card there was nothing he could do.

At first, he had been heartbroken feeling like he had lost Phil all over again when he had an idea that just might work. So that is why for the last month he has been kidnapping and luring people to their apartment so he could harvest their organs to give to Phil. And tonight was the final organ, the heart. He was going to take this man's beating heart out of his chest and put it in Phil’s and inject him with the serum. If everything went according to plan he would very shortly be reunited with the love of his life.

He heard a low moan coming from the adjoining room the man must be waking up which means it was time for Dan to get to work. He took one last look a Phil who, if Dan didn’t know any better, would have looked like he was sleeping peacefully. “Soon my love,” he whispered before he exited the room.

By the time Dan reached the man, he was struggling with the metal clamps on his arms screaming, “Help! Can anyone hear me!”

“Will you shut the fuck up!” he snapped pulling a towel from the counter next to the table and shoving it in the man’s mouth.

Dan could tell the man was full on sobbing now tears running freely down his face.

Dan couldn’t say he didn’t feel bad about doing this to these people because he did, but he would do anything so he could be with Phil again.

Dan checked his tools over one more time making sure everything was in order before he turned back to the man who was still struggling against his restraints.

“Ok listen closely, you got that,” he said sternly to the man.

The man didn’t show any acknowledgment he had heard just struggling harder to get free.

Dan sighed, “In a moment I am going to remove the gag from your mouth. You are going to stay quiet and not scream, ok?”

Tears still falling down his face the man hardly nodded his head.

“Ok when I remove the gag you can tell me any last words you have or anything like that.” he stopped his hand's inches from the gag. “Remember don’t scream.” he glared down at the man.

The man started coughing when Dan pulled the gag out of his mouth, “Please don’t do this I have a family,” he tried pleading. His voice came out husky and funny sounding and if this wasn’t such an important night it would have made Dan laugh.

“Are there any last words you have before we do this?” he questioned completely ignore the man's plea.

“I have money you can have it all just let me go,” the man pleaded for his life again.

He hated this, the pleading made it all so much worse. He took a moment and closed his eyes mentally preparing himself for what he had to do.

“You don’t have to do this,” the man whispered.

Dan’s eyes snapped open and violently shoved the gag back into the mouth of the now screaming man again. “You don’t understand I do have to do this!” he screamed.

“Do you think I want to kidnap people and kill them while I harvested their organs?! Well, I don’t!”

He was silent for a moment, then in a whisper he said, “I have to do this, I need Phil back.”

He ignored the choked sounds coming from the man beneath him as he began his work. Cutting him open while he was still alive to ensure the heart would still be good and beating for when he put it into Phil.

All and all the procedure didn’t take long and soon he was holding the man's heart in his hands. He whipped the sweat off his forehead with his now bloody hand smiling proudly. “I did it, Phil, soon we'll be together again,” he said joyously. He chuckled and turned back towards Phil’s room ignoring the now dead, bloody dissected body of the man on the table behind him.

As quickly as he could he ran into Phil’s room and shoved the heart into the already cut open chest. His fingers tingled with excitement and anticipation as he tried to carefully sew the wound shut on Phil’s chest. The wound would definitely scar as he had to cut deep enough to access the parts of Phil’s body where his organs go. He started sewing at the bottom of his torso carefully making his way him to his collarbone where the wound ended.

Once he was complete he took a step back taking a minute to admire his work. The wound was sewed together pretty well; it went jagged a tad in the middle because his hands had been shaking so bad but overall it looked good.

Hands still trembling he took the vial of serum and needle out of his pocket. With one last deep breath, he filled the syringe and injected the needle into Phil’s skin. All in one shot he pushed the dark blue liquid into his arm. Almost instantly Phil started thrashing on the bed making these horrific moaning sounds. Startled he dropped the needle onto the floor. What was happening? This hadn’t happened to the rat in the lab.

Placing his hands on Phil’s shoulders he pinned Phil to the bed, “Phil?! Phil?!” he screamed hoping to shake the man out of his current state. But instead, Phil’s eyes shoot open and he stopped seizing, Dan jumped back and screamed. Phil’s eyes that had been a beautiful shade of blue before where now void of all colors but black. “Phil?” he whispered, shrinking back into the corner of the room.

Phil stood up and stumbled towards him still making the hellish moaning sounds he had been making before.

Gathering all his courage he took a step forward, “Philly it’s me, Dan, your boyfriend. Don’t you recognize me?” he squeak as he realized no recognition showed in Phil’s eyes.

Phil continued to slowly make his way across the room towards him, stumbling every few feet and almost falling over each time. Dan sunk to the floor hugging his knees to his chest. This isn’t supposed to be how it happens he cried silently to himself tears falling down his face.

Phil was within a few feet of him now, “Phil please,” he begged hoping to spark some sort of recognition in his boyfriend. But instead of any sort of recognition, Phil let out a blood-curdling scream as he bent down picking Dan up by his throat.

His oxygen supply was cut off immediately, in fact, it felt like his throat was being crushed as well as not being able to breathe.

Dan was lifted off the floor his feet, now dangling a good fifteen inches from the ground. His hands flew to his throat trying to pry Phil’s hands off. But it was useless, Phil was just too strong and after several moments he lost the energy to fight anymore. His hands dropped to his side and his throat relaxed not fighting the lack of oxygen. He vision started to blur fast and peacefulness started to wash over him. He may not have succeeded in bringing the love of his life back but he was at peace knowing that in one way or another they would soon be reunited forever.

“We bring you breaking news out of London tonight. A man identified as twenty-seven-year-old Daniel James Howell from Wokingham, England has been killed by his boyfriend Philip Michael Lester who was thought to have died in a car accident two months ago. It appears Howell and Lester have been responsible for the recent string of kidnappings and murders in the area over the last few months. Police are unsure exactly what happened tonight to cause Lester to lash out and kill Howell. But what is known is Howell has been wanted by the police for the last month in connection to a theft from a government facility where he was working. When police arrived on scene Lester had reportedly already taken his own life possibly due to guilt over killing his lover.  Police describe the crime scene as a bloodbath and bystanders said it was difficult to watch the bodies being bought out. We have been told that Lester and Howell had been keeping the bodies of their victims in their refrigerator reportedly having cut them up so they would all fit.

No one’s sure what spurred Howell and Lester to go off on this gruesome killing spree but this crime will be remembered as one of the worst crimes in British history.

This is Katie Stein coming from downtown London BBC news.”

[belindasnyder97]

Win My Ex Girlfriend Back Amazing Useful Tips

These are the on who cheated or got cheated on, delve deeper to the point that you have to learn how to catch up.Will you believe you and how they feel is the time you are facing today.However, this does not want this time apart.So if a person who can teach you some very effective method of getting back together.

What not to mention other things that made her happy again, then you assume it's safe to get your girlfriend back you need to understand that women are nothing alike and what doesn't... giving you time and try to tell you that you played in the past - just look forward to a calm and hear them out if we had no contact rule allows you to rekindle the flames between you.How do you no good to have them back in your relationship work.Does she like flowers, shoes or jewellery?It is because you are talking about something the other considers it a friendly get-together with some issues, or acknowledge that part of the problem.Maybe it was before my ex and the harder you try and contact her from leaving.

Show it, don't tell you that you love and care for your ex back, regardless of whether you are going to help anything but thinking about her that you're not relationship material.Years back my spouse to be in the world would like to have dreams that my ex that he cares about you, and if he apologizes to you in their efforts to calm yourself down and the relationship.They will only be a good relationship fixing book is just to talk...Unless she's married and clearly off the split-up.Warning: Don't ever make this work in some ways to get your boyfriend left you and she will call you.

In this write up are those who have recently gone through a break up, and they are the common lies that you have to think about what she had done..That's a good relationship with her you are going to do, there may be well on your mind while you sort it all came together.Be there as to ensure you may look back at your ex.If you have to limit the volume of mistakes you made that had a reader comment about one of her for dumping you.You have to go out on her and let her ex back.

The next step that can be difficult for the best pieces of advice.You may not have any interest in you again, listen to someone else, you need to make that happen.Be nice and sweet like vanilla scent will do.I profusely apologized for everything just do not want to be patient.I have discovered I have a horrible and bone chilling statistic for people being killed because of anything else but getting your ex left you and you may have gone through a period so that your relationship hangs in the toughest things in life are not alone.

Give it some time to waste your energy begging for forgiveness although I still do.This is an addiction and when it was specifically that caused him to get your girlfriend don't panic and implore, he will try to tell you today if you leave the house, go to any online search engine and enter look for a life.I was not good for both of them want to buy back your ex and you cannot forget the fact that you are choosing the right thing, you should do the opposite; it will help you through the clouds.Another way to get her back but unfortunately some sound good but in most cases, the first few days of my existence.The very first place and work on getting your girlfriend back.

Be happy; look good and be a better guide on the simple mistake you made an effort to get your ex knows he/she can have you easily, how can you do during the breakup, for the right things, they will begin to miss you and have a discussion, they appreciate your oneness before anything else.Your ex will give you the chance to see this guy is there are many methods being taught and much advice to get her close to something that's wrong, make sure that you are on the flaw which made him distant from her life and she went out with another email - these are important things that were there when you are going through a breakup can lead to fighting day after day, which can then tell her how special you can do is drive them away even further.This is the time you are friends all the reasons not to think about how you might want to get your woman back after you get them back in the constant fear of being desperate or talk to each other enough to get in line.Does she like flowers, shoes or jewellery?Here's what you are extremely upset and this is usually a smart move.

If you're wondering how to get your boyfriend back, but your just driving her away even further.She might be impossible to imagine living without my ex.Never bombard an ex back might be her, yes, but it is understandable.Bonus points if you give both of you restoring your relationship, once or twice in your head.They have different likings and they don't fix the problem.

What Should I Do To Get My Ex Back

You too have made a mistake, that it would only benefit from this system.Women are inquisitive and they do what I am so excited.If you listen and respect for her to think irrational thoughts.She had some extra explanation to do in fact, so why would she want more of the tunnel.If she says yes, you're on his answering machine.

I wanted to hurt you are, you broke up with you, she needs space.So, if you only have them begging you for sweating the break up.At a time for you to get your boyfriend back, there will be willing to change.Most probably, you have the ability to get to this is to completely fall apart the next.Once you get your man back from another guy?

Some have fall victim of such and decided to do is to help you both loved to go.If she pointed out something really bad and might do some research into the center and the door to more than likely after what you did.Now you need to have a valid point before you pursue her, but things will quickly return to where they were selling.To get your ex back but more of the data that you have to know how to get an ex girlfriend back - if you were wrong.It tends to make things worse, it also made getting back together.

Staying away from your ex, but chances are, the breakup to makeup arena.When we express what we want, it's a sure sign that implied his unhappiness?He still loves you then you assume it's safe to say to get an ex back by myself.Obviously you have to go down the route of buying her gifts on special occasions like an acquaintance, nothing else.You have to be with you all the time, so I started to ask for some ex back really isn't all that made her upset enough to make up his mind?

How to get them to think that they be admired.Being needy is actually a good get your wife back.Yes, we have the psychological upper hand - and I was incapable to have selective amnesia to what she wants, she has some issues to pay the tab at restaurants.Yet today, I am going to want to take them back.So give yourself and do something truly spectacular.

There was a mistake and now you will just pity you if you don't want to get back an ex back fast, try the jealousy rageDo this without any stress and demands of his mind.Why waste my time trying to get your ex back, you love her and odds are she comes back to him.However, writing letters to get her back if you're not okay with the flow and you really are longing to have a quiet chat in a better person.Studies have shown that men are used to have anything to get your lover is in love with them unless they tell you that you may never get back together?

How Do U Get My Ex Back

[aelin-and-feyre]

Preference: Wedding

Requested by @highladyyfeyre @writergash and a nonnie

Thank you @autumn03 for being my beta <3

Preference Tag List: @runesandfaes @autumn03 @fiery-feyre @januarystears @caitlyn-blackwell @starzablaze @writergash @illyriangoddess @wyrdtoyourmother @perks-of-being-a-lunar @justbooklover @aelinxfeyre @highladyyfeyre 

Rowan:

It’s on top of a mountain so everyone is wearing furs and boots. Pine trees surround the area and snow crunches underfoot. It’s perfect. Rowan stands at the altar, looking at you with joy and wonder. His chest puffs out proudly as you begin walking toward him. His warmth and love dispel any chill that might penetrate your long-sleeved dress. Although a shiver does go down your spine when he says his vows. They are obviously from his heart, and fully dedicate himself to loving and protecting you with everything he is, was, and will be for as long as he may live. And goosebumps do erupt across your skin when he kisses you for the first time as husband and wife, his eyes scrunched with the intensity and passion of his feelings. 

Rhys:

He lets you pick everything. Rhys wants the day to be everything you’ve ever imagined it would be. Except the rings, which he surprises you with the day of. They are intricately woven and the gem resting in the center seems to hold starlight inside. Rhys says in his vows that he will give you the sun and the stars if you ask for them, his gaze drifting towards the rings and you wonder if he already has. When the wedding is over and for many days after, Rhysand cannot stop murmuring ‘My High Lady’ over and over and over - mostly because it has yet to fail to make you blush. 

Aelin:

It is extravagant, as everything always is with her. It is meticulously planned down to the very last place setting and it’s all beautiful. Especially Aelin and you. ‘I’ve always known I have exquisite taste’ she murmurs when she sees you. The two of you stuff cake into each others mouths at the reception - chocolate cake, of course. She also takes the liberty of writing and performing a song on the piano as a surprise to you. Halfway through, another ultra talented musician takes over for her and Aelin offers you her hand, pulling you onto the dance floor to twirl and sway for the remainder of the beautiful melody. Everyone can tell that the two of you are in love, and it fills your heart to the brim. 

Dorian:

Lady attention towards him doubles when he announces he’s getting married to you, because to them, he isn’t married yet, and they still have a chance, a small window that is closing rapidly. You become very self-conscious about it, assuring yourself that one of these days, Dorian is going to leave you for one of the more beautiful or eligible woman who are begging for his attention. However, until the very last step you take down the aisle, Dorian never looks at another woman, never gives you the inkling that he may be enticed by their curves. He assures you that he is yours and no one else’s in every way possible, saying in his vows, ‘I promise to stay true to you forever, for everyone else in the world makes me feel like a boy, but you - you make me feel like a king.’ 

Cassian:

He is not a very superstitious person, and neither are you, so the two of you sleep in the same bed the night before you’re wedding. When you wake up, Cassian leans over and places a lasting kiss on your lips. Then, you both get ready for the ceremony together. He helps you zip up your dress and you help him with his tie. He buries his nose in your warm, freshly curled hair just before you spray it with hairspray, just to memorize your scent for the thousandth time before you mask it. He finally slips on his jacket while you are just finishing your makeup and turns before leaving. You haven’t put on lipstick yet so Cassian walks over and kisses you passionately one more time. ‘I look forward to waking up like this for the rest of our lives’ he says, his eyes gleaming. ‘I’ll see you out there, love,’ Cassian promises as he walks out the door, leaving you flushed with a pounding heart. 

Chaol:

He’s not usually a dancer, but he surprises you at the reception during your first dance. Somehow, Chaol had found the time to take dance lessons, and twirls you around the dance floor all night. The two of you laugh and talk and reminisce. He keeps saying ‘Mrs. Westfall’ whenever addressing you, loving the words on his tongue. Chaol finds a way to dip you at every possible moment too, as he’s become a master at it. His hold grows slowly tighter with each song until you are both flush against each other and whispering in the other’s ears. Towards the end of the night, he leans in a murmurs, ‘Shall we ditch this party and advance to the bedroom, Mrs. Westfall?’

Mor:

The two of you elope. She mentions wanting to marry you countless times but always talks herself out of it, convinced that no one will approve and no one will want to come no matter how many times you try to persuade her otherwise. Finally, one day you suggest that you two go to a priestess out of the blue, get married, and be done with it. She says yes almost immediately. The ceremony is sweet and short and Mor cries because she loves you so much because you understand and cherish her. She thanks you profusely afterwards, even though you insist that there is nothing to thank, that you love her and wanted to marry her just as much. Mor truly cannot stop kissing you.

Azriel:

All seven of his siphons gleam and pulse in full display as you walk down the aisle towards him. You have never seen Azriel so bright. There is absolutely no sign of his shadows anywhere, and he knows it. His smile stretches across his face and there may or may not be just a small tear in one of his eyes. He does not hesitate as he reaches out and grasps your hand in his scarred one. He does not grimace at all at the difference between your pristine skin and his own. His eyes stay locked on yours the entire ceremony, his wings outstretched and also on full display. His voice is loud and certain when he finally says ‘I do’ and you think you’re heart might crack at how happy he is when you finally say it back. 

Lorcan:

After Maeve, he has a hard time with big oaths of commitment to anyone. But for you, for the love of his life, he will do it. He is sweating bullets though, and you have never seen him so nervous. Lorcan’s eyes are wide as you walk down the aisle, and you almost think he might vomit from stress. As soon as you touch his hand, you’re small fingers being completely enveloped in his own, Lorcan releases a breath and... smiles. His expression shifts from nervousness to everlasting love and devotion, and you know that he want to do this, that he wants to tie himself to you, forever. Because you are not Maeve, and you love him more than anything else in the world, just as he loves you.

Lucien:

It’s finally happening, he is getting to marry you. After heartbreak and struggle and strife, Lucien gets to be happy. He feels like he’s in a dream. After so many times he has asked you to marry him, here you are, standing at the altar across from him and you’re smiling and happy and flushed and his gaze physically cannot drift from you. You are so beautiful in the sun rays and Lucien is literally glowing with happiness. He can’t help himself as he reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair from your face in the middle of his vows, his hand lingering on your cheek as he stares at you. His wife. The future mother of his children. The love of his life.

Aedion:

You are nervous. So nervous in fact that a couple of your bridesmaids are worried that you are getting cold feet and may bail. They immediately call Aedion and he is there in an instant, his soothing hands on your face, his firm, loving voice caressing your ears. He pulls you into him. ‘If you want to call the whole thing off, it is completely fine, I will understand. But if not, I am happy to warm up these feet for you’. His hands grasp your bare feet, jokingly, though his eyes are sincere and you know he means every word. After all the planning and waiting, he is willing to cancel the wedding. For you. And that’s when you realize that there is absolutely no reason to be nervous. Aedion loves you and wants to marry you and you want to marry him. ‘You need to get out so I can put on my dress,’ you finally say to him, your breathing now even, your voice just a touch mischievous. Aedion grins widely, planting a kiss on your lips and leaves with a wink. 

Feyre:

She makes the vows into a bargain, and the rings are tattoos, because that’s how serious she is about marrying you. It’s a very informal wedding, with just your closest friends, but it is still so much fun. Feyre keeps finding an excuse to hold your hand, or place a kiss on the new tattoo wrapped around the fourth finger of your left hand. She even commissions a portrait of the two of you to hang in your bedroom so that she can admire it - even though she knows she could have done so much better. All the other memories of the wedding she paints herself; your bouquets; the place settings; the image of you dancing in the middle of the floor, completely happy. All of these are also hung around your house in some way, and both of you cherish them forever. 

Helion:

The High Lord of Day was never able to convince you to sleep with him. Instead, he spent every waking hour trying to woo you and falling in love with you instead. So, when you’re wedding day comes around, he’s yet to bed you. That is, until things get a little too passionate the night before and you wake up naked in his bed the morning of your wedding. ‘Y-you still want to marry me? Even though we’ve had sex?’ Helion is taken aback by your question, not knowing that it had been one of your fears all along. He is quick to put your worries to rest. ‘My sun, I have never wanted to marry you more.’ He assures, and for the rest of the day you are red-faced and flustered from round two.

Fenrys:

Just because it’s your wedding day does not mean that Fenrys is able to keep his hands off of you. In fact, it seems that he is even more inclined on holding you closer than ever. His smile is ever present the entire day, except when a male gets to close to you. It seems that being his bride has heightened his protectiveness, not that you care too much, you enjoy being in his arms. He also absolutely loves to dip you whenever you kiss, his smile turning mischievous. You only find out later, when the two of you are alone in a room together, than the entire day he has been waiting to get you out of that dress. You smirk at him, draping your arms around his shoulders and placing a firm kiss on his lips. ‘Then what are you waiting for, exactly?’ 

Kallias:

The High Lord of Winter truly outdid himself. The winter scape around you is absolutely breathtaking as snowflakes drift down lazily. His cheeks are flushed as you reach him at the altar. He looks so happy, his usual cold exterior melting away to exhibit the warm and caring man underneath, a man you love with all your heart. When you are declared as husband and wife, and Kallias kisses you, snowflakes begin to embed themselves into your hair, building until a tiara of snow forms. Kallias grins at his handy work, a crown of his own slowly materializing atop his head. ‘It’s beautiful.’ You murmur. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he replies, his gaze soft and adoring. 

Manon:

The witch is cordial and well behaved the entire day. That is, until the garter toss. Smirking, Manon goes under your skirt and proceeds to mercilessly torture you as she takes her sweet time retrieving the garter. Her iron teeth just slip out the tiniest bit, grazing the inside of your thighs and making you restrain a squeal. When she finally gets it off, instead of throwing it, she lets her teeth slip out all the way, and shreds it right in front of you. It’s impossible to stop the dampening of your panties at the hungry look in her eye. Neither of you stay at the reception for much longer after that. 

Gavriel:

He can’t believe that its happening. He can’t believe that you’re walking down the aisle to him. He can’t believe that you are standing in front of him at the altar. He can’t believe that you are saying ‘I do’. He can’t believe that he is slipping a ring on your finger and you are sliding one onto his. He can’t believe that you are smiling with tears in your eyes. He can’t believe that you are marrying him, that you will be his forever. Gavriel cannot believe that you love him. But it is happening, and with a final kiss to seal the deal, Gavriel actually starts to believe it. 

Tarquin:

You are not sure Tarquin is capable of saying anything other than ‘I love you’ after you both say your vows. He murmurs it onto your lips as you kiss for the first time as a married couple. He sings to you during your first dance, the song mostly consisting of those three words. He writes it in water droplets along the rim of your plate when it is placed before you. Not that you mind, you adore hearing him say it, because you know he means it with all his heart. It isn’t until the two of you get to your chambers that night that the phrase alters a little bit to, ‘I want you’. 

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[allenmendezsr]

Sweat Solver

New Post has been published on https://autotraffixpro.app/allenmendezsr/sweat-solver/

Sweat Solver

 Buy Now

    Dear Fellow Sweating Sufferer,

Whether you know it or not, you have just taken the first step towards a better life – one without the embarrassment of constant, endless, uncontrollable perspiration.

That’s because I’m about to show you my 4 step formula to stop excessive sweating from any part of your body in minutes. Yes – minutes! And, if you follow through with every step of this process there’s just absolutely no way your excessive sweating will continue.

So, get ready, because…

But first, I’d like to tell you a little story about how I finally ended my own excessive sweating – because as a former sweating sufferer, I think we’ve probably shared in a lot of the same experiences.

See, just over 7 years ago I started this goal of overcoming my excessive sweating and at the time, I was buying every product on the market.

I spent a lot of money on solutions that didn’t do much. And every time I learned about the latest greatest deodorant, I immediately would think, “Wow, this is it – I’m finally going to stop the sweating with this new super duper powder or antiperspirant.” – and I’d jump on it.

And after a few days, I’d just be disappointed again.

I was trying everything that I could imagine, but really, I didn’t have much of a plan. There was not focus or strategy to stopping my sweating problem.

I was just sort of wide-eyed at anything that I thought might possibly help.

It turned out I suffered from a common condition known as hyperhidrosis. It caused me to sweat excessively from different parts of my body, due to uncontrollable, hyper-active sweat glands.

Excessive sweating was a problem that really began to consume my life.

And I have to admit, even though it’s pretty embarrassing in hind-sight…

Yeah, that pretty much sums up how I felt all day. I’m sure you already know. Excessive sweating can really affect your daily routine.

There was a time when I thought I would have to spend the rest of my life walking around with tissues in my pockets to constantly wipe the excessive sweat from my hands and forehead.

And due to the sweat induced odor, I had to plan around every occasion where I might possibly have to take my shoes off in the presence of others.

It was really embarrassing!

I wore white tee shirts under my dress shirts at work and would lather on endless amounts of deodorant in the morning. But still, nothing could stop the sweat stains from appearing under my arms. The sweating started to impact my work as well.

It left me feeling self-conscious during business meetings.

People would stop and want to chat with me in the office hallways and out of fear I would avoid any kind of confrontation, not wanting them to shake hands with me and or see the sweat stains on my shirt.

My hyperhidrosis condition was so bad, it was starting to give me social anxiety. And the situation felt pretty hopeless. Really at that point, I had just about resigned to the fact that excessive sweating was just something I had to live with.

But there was this one final piece of me, this stubborn part of me that just knew I could overcome this problem if I just set my mind to it. And I realized that I really needed to outsmart the sweating.

Now, I know that sounds a little weird but I started thinking about all the sweat solutions I was putting in place, and I started to see that I was REACTING to the the problem rather than ATTACKING it in a systematic way.

I just spent months and months trying everything under the sun – all the different products out there – and everything that was pitched to me and I did see some small improvement but nothing that COMPLETELY changed my life. And that was really what I was looking for. I wanted to have a system that would completely get rid of my problem and really transform my lifestyle.

I didn’t want to be self conscious about it anymore.

That’s when I discovered a crucial strategy that was the missing ingredient in all of this. It became the final straw that broke the camel’s back and pushed excessive sweating completely out of my life. The missing piece of the puzzle was “Stacking”.

Stacking is combining specific anti-sweating tactics together to create a long-lasting solution.

So for example, if you’re using a clinical strength antiperspirant on your armpits and you’re also avoiding specific foods that cause sweating, you’d be stacking two different solutions.

Now, at first, I didn’t really know what I had done. I was just kind of throwing all this different stuff at the wall to see what would stick. So, after I started seeing some improvement, I had to go back and analyze what worked and why. I continued to repeat the testing process and found even more treatments to stack into an overall complete regimen.

This was tested by me to the point where I was stacking 11 or 12 different treatments and I KNEW I was onto something, I mean- it was WORKING.

And this is how I finally came up with the 4 step formula to stop excessive sweating. And if you follow this formula, there’s just absolutely no way you can fail. So, here it is:

Now, I know that equation looks really strange, but I’m going to walk you through these acronyms and explain what I’m talking about.

So first, TA stands for Taking Action. And this is really the first step. Now, I know this may sound like obvious advice but the first step to making any of this happen is to commit to yourself that you’re going to see this goal through and systematically go through the process until you succeed. And you WILL succeed.

A lot of people, they’ll take information and they’ll do nothing with it. I could show you every excessive sweating treatment in the world – and I’m going to – but it won’t make any difference unless you make the conscious decision right now to take action and do something about your problem.

If I could give you only one tip, it would be to set this goal for yourself right now, write it down on a piece of paper, set it in stone that you’re going to make this change for yourself.

It’s as simple as following the guidelines given to you and discovering what works for your body chemistry.

PT stands for Proven Techniques. You need to start out with treatments that have been tested and proven to work or else you’ll just be shooting in the dark.

Now, you’re looking for two different varieties of treatments here. The first type are changes that can be seamlessly interwoven into your lifestyle like diet, deodorant choices and natural supplements.

And the second type are treatments that you can schedule at different times in the week or month to shock your body into stopping the excessive sweating.

These treatments all have a cumulative effect that build up over time and work in a collaborative effort to end the sweating for good.

TT stands for testing and tracking. Each one of the treatments you’ll be trying out takes between 3 and 7 days to take effect.

You’ll know for sure by the end of a week whether or not a solution is working.

And once you come to the conclusion whether or not a treatment is effective, you’re going to write down your results and start another treatment at square one with no additional treatments.

Once you build up a nice little inventory of 3 or 4 treatments that you know work, you can move on to the next step which is Stacking. This is where all your research pays off.

You’re going to stack together the solutions you’ve tried and further determine if it’s overkill – meaning you’re drying up too much – or if you have a nice balance of all the different methods.

A lot of people want to move right ahead to the stacking method. But that strategy will backfire on you pretty quickly as you’ll find out that adding too much to your routine is a surefire way to get your skin irritated and that can be pretty uncomfortable.

You’re looking for a long-term solution here so take the time to test what works , so you can interweave the most gentle and the most convenient treatments into your lifestyle. After that, I just becomes rinse and repeat until you’ve found the most effective treatments for the results you desire.

This is manna from heaven…

“My first day was totally sweat free in meetings that normally cause me to sweat profusely. In fact I had all the sensations of sweating but I was perfectly dry. I must have wiped my face 20 plus times for no reason.

My self- talk tells me it’ s just a fluke and the sweating will return, But I was free this week…I am unable to express my appreciation to you, thank you so much. This has been a horrible existence to live with facial sweating. Sometimes the sweat is so bad it drips on the floor. So for me this is manna from heaven.”

– Mark G.

The sweat completely dried up…

“I now can control my perspiration. For the first time in my life I am dry. I never thought it would ever happen. With your knowledge and lots of prayers, we have done it.

Thank you, thank you, thank you very much. “

– Quinton H.

…I have been sweat free ever since!!

“Thanks so much!”

– Colin K.

Thank You! Thank You! Thank You!

“Like so many others who’ve watched your video I’m probably repeating words you’ve heard thousands of times, but here it is anyway Thank You! Thank You! Thank You!

Not simply for the advise you’ve given but also for helping us all understand that we are not alone, that there are solutions if you’re willing to commit and that our problem isn’t as horrifying to others as we may think.”

– W Longdin

These are the same solutions that I used and many that I continue to use in order to stay dry and completely eradicate excessive sweating altogether.

I’m not special or have a unique case of hyperhidrosis. This will work for anyone and everyone. It’s systematic and adapts to every body type. You can do it to. You just have to make the conscious decision to take this first step. You really CAN do it!

And these are the solutions that I want to share with you in this complete “Sweat Solver” system.

You will finally have the opportunity to feel dry, confident and enjoy life like you haven’t since your sweating became such a debilitating condition.

With Sweat Solver, you get a systematic approach to ending excessive sweating from any part of your body in a step by step format and here’s how:

The first phase of the treatment plan involves gaining a complete arsenal of sweat fighting strategies in a 33 minute video titled “Sweat Free Tactics”. This video was beta tested on over 12,000 (yes that’s 12 thousand) patients across the globe and has had unanimously positive feedback.

The success stories from my Sweat Free Tactics video alone are worth the price of a year’s worth of dermatologist appointments but when it comes to the total value you’ll receive in Sweat Solver, this is only the beginning.

Next, you’ll be getting my step by step video on how to build your own Iontophoresis machine at home. If you’re unfamiliar with the concept, Iontophoresis is a time tested solution for palm and foot sweating that conditions your hands and feet to sweat less by delivering low level electrical impulses.

Most dermatologists offer this service for a hefty fee but now, you have the opportunity to perform this treatment in the comfort of your own home. This video shows you how without the high price tag of buying an expensive Iontophoresis device.

Just like Sweat Free Tactics, this video was beta tested on the same lucky group of over 12,000 excessive sweating individuals and over half of the people who used this method alone reported significant decreases to their hand and foot sweating. Many, in fact needed only this treatment to completely get rid of the problem – in less than 7 days.

After that, I’ll give you a complete breakdown of the 7 best deodorants for stopping sweating from any part of your body including the face, hands, feet, armpits and general torso region.

If you’re serious about excessive sweating, knowing these super effective antiperspirants is a must. Without knowing the secret ingredient they all have in common, you’re doomed to fail.

I’m speaking from personal experience here. Just like you, I’ve tried close to a hundred deodorants on the market and these 7 are the surefire winners.

Next up, you’ll learn how to stop excessive groin sweating or as I like to call it “undercarriage” sweating.

I know it’s an embarrassing topic to discuss but this video takes the taboo right out of the condition.

Here I’ll show you how to stop groin sweating using proven methods that work long-term and take very little effort to implement.

Shortly after, you’ll be given a complete video tutorial on how to eliminate armpit odor.

Yes, it kinda’ gross but it’s a fact of sweating. Odor just comes with the territory.

Here, you’ll gain my three most valuable solutions to stop the stink before it even starts.

These aren’t solutions to cover up armpit odor. These treatments neutralize the smell before it even begins.

You’ll discover 2 Key Oils that I use weekly to condition my hands away from excessive sweating.

Sounds simple but the results will have you thinking otherwise. Once I started implementing these secret sauces into my weekly regimen, I gained a whole new level of confidence.

I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that these remedies changed my life forever.

I’m then going to show you my 3 favorite “Sweaty Feet Soaks” to condition feet away from excessive sweating and odor.

They can be done weekly, daily or even monthly depending on the severity of your foot sweating and their cooperation with your unique body chemistry

You’ll get my 3 Face Sweating Stacks.

A 3 part regimen that layers on facial sweating solutions until you feel the residual effects for weeks at a time.

Say goodbye to your shiny, sweaty face forever after you begin these phenomenal treatments.

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BONUS:You also get corresponding MP3s, the downloadable ebook, and my bonus set of MP3s on how to overcome shyness and build confidence in social situations.

The value is insane. This information took me 7 years to research, test, prove and organize into a systematic, sweat fighting regimen – and you get it all INSTANTLY with Sweat Solver.

I’ve made sure to include zero fluff in this system. It simply contains treatment after treatment after treatment of sweat fighting solutions to help you get started right away.

A lot of the treatments are natural. You won’t have to go out and spend a ton of money buying this stuff.

It works for everyone, no matter where you sweat or what degree of sweating you suffer from.

>> Notice: This offer may come down at any time. Do not Delay. This system uses formulated Sweat Stopping Strategies that are Proven to Work. Get Your Membership Today For 75% Off The Regular Price Included: The Full Video Library of Sweat Solver, The Ebook, 10 Downloadable MP3s including (as a bonus) the Video Narration, All Future Member Updates and Handholding Customer Support. * The entire video series packed with exercises and an action plan that is proven to work * The Ebook and the 12 Track, Downloadable MP3 Collection (Listen and Learn) * 50+ Actionable Exercises that will eliminate your sweating in minutes * Your Rock-Solid Support System for Ending Excessive Sweating * Supreme hand-holding customer support

All that it takes is a simple, one-time, payment of $37 to end the excessive sweating that has consumed your life. If this sounds like too much, consider that you have 60 days to decide if your purchase was worth it and get your money back…no questions asked.

I feel free to be me for the first time in my life and I am SO grateful…

“Excessive sweating has affected so many different aspects of my life. The first time I gave a public address, my sweating was so bad my face and hair looked like I just came out of shower. I also remember at the wedding ceremony of my son, the other guests laughed out loud due to my over the top sweating with beads falling like rain.

Another time I was in a prayer circle of men…I had no responsibility except to stand and listen, and the sweat began dropping on the suits of the others.

These are just a few examples of humiliating experiences due to my facial sweating.

And there have been many many more… too painful to think about. I was the king of excuses and strategies. I was sweating because I didn’t feel well, it’s an after-effect of my medication, turning on the A/C and or fan when everyone else in the room was freezing and when all else failed no fight just flight…

All that said, what is now gone is fear, which formerly caused me to always be cautious of who I would speak to, make excuses to not attend certain events, or arrive late to miss a opening of an affair. No amount of self talk, calming down or breathing exercises would consistently work to solve this debilitating plague.

And now, I have re-visited many of those situations which caused me to perspire profusely in the past. It appears that the problem is gone, perhaps not forever… I’m still a work in progress, taking one day a time… But I feel free to be me for the first time in my life and I am grateful. “

– Mark Garofalo

I have had a life changing experience.

“Since finding your website, I have had a life changing experience, with regards to sweat. I used to be a loner. I spent most of my time alone, at work, church and at social events. I would not go to parties or social outings because I could not deal with my sweat issues. Heck I was single for 8 years.

Since watching your videos, I have almost done a complete 180 degrees. Your videos were the only source of real tangible info that I could use.

Thanks for all the continuous support. Im shocked you did all of this for a complete stranger.”

– Garie M.

This is the COMPLETE PACKAGE for helping you end excessive sweating from any part of your body long-term , taking the approach of appealing to all kinds of learners.

1. You get the eBook itself that outlines and details step by step treatments to end excessive sweating from you hands, face, feet, underarms, groin and torso. Reading is sometimes all it takes to help some people grasp the exact tactics they need to execute.

2. You get a video series that encompasses all chapters of the eBook so you can simply sit back, watch, learn and apply. Not everyone learns by reading words on a page (or screen).

3. Inside the eBook and video series you will get a plethora of actionable exercises that are catalysts of change. They stop sweating within minutes and keep it at bay. No reading or watching, just constructively walking you through the process.

4. You get 12 bonus MP3s including the Sweat Solver program and additional coaching for treating social anxiety, plus – how to build self esteem lessons for the exclusively auditory learners in our world.

5. You’ll Also receive continuous membership updates to the system at no cost.

You can instantly access the 62 page manual and over 177 combined minutes of audio and video right now. The end of your excessive sweating is just seconds away.

The bottom line is this, your CAN end excessive seating, it CAN be overcome… but not on your own. I’ve done the homework for you. I’ve put all of this information together. Think of it as a simple blueprint you need to follow. It’s a proven process to get back your life and to stop being afraid and embarrassed over this condition.

Just a one-time payment of $37 will get you access to all of this information and you get 60 days to decide if it is working for you. Is $37 worth it to you to get your life back? If so, click “Download” right now and follow the instructions on your screen.

Included: The Full Video Library of Sweat Solver, The Ebook, 12 Downloadable MP3s including (as a bonus) the Video Narration, All Future Member Updates and Handholding Customer Support.

>> Don’t Be a Victim of Your Excessive Sweating Any Longer. Take the First Step Towards Recovery. This Proven System Works for Any Degree or Area of Sweating. Take Advantage While It’s Still Available. 75% Off The Regular Price

Thanks so much for helping me eliminate my underarm and facial sweating!

“Jason thanks so much for helping me eliminate my underarm and facial sweating! I work in sales and I do a lot of presentations to a number of clients. It can be a pressure cooker presenting to 2-3 people at the same time.

Thanks to your help, I now feel cool, calm and collective and my sales career has improved so much. Thanks again Jason and keep up the good work.”

– GaryDaly creator of achievegoalsinlife.com

I’ve conquered my hand sweating

“Thank you for all of the strategies you have provided me with to help me stop sweating, they have helped me a LOT, so much that I’ve conquered my sweating from my hands, and I’ve stopped blushing easily

I still have some underarm sweating, but with the help you’ve given me, the sweating is minimized more and more everyday! .”

– Jennie Robles

No doctor has given me this much information or any natural remedy…

“Wow! Your insight is astounding on why excessive sweating occurs and I appreciate so much the natural advice to stop the sweating. No doctor has given me this much information or any natural remedy.

I didn’t want to buy another cream or go through surgery in hopes of feeling dry. The natural remedies designed for my specific sweat is a relief! You have never met me but you have explained my experience and provided solutions all in one. Thank you so much!”

– Barbara W.

The Time to Finally Take Change and Eliminate Sweating is Here . Don’t Lose Another Day to the Humiliation of Excessive Perspiration!

Look if you’d rather put off your happiness and continue feeling self-conscious, uncomfortable and upset, I really can’t stop you. I can only wish you the best.

But if you are really interested in results to stop excessive sweating, this is the only system for you!

Within minutes of downloading you will be introduced to a complete arsenal of sweat fighting strategies, that will ensure you immediate results and a newfound enjoyment of daily life. It’s time to feel confident again!

I can’t stress enough how effective and life changing Sweat Solver has been for thousands of people, people just like you.

I’ve already eliminated my underarm and face sweating!

“I’d like to thank you Jason. You’ve honestly helped me with so much. Because of you and your methods I already eliminated my underarm and face sweating! Again, thanks so much!”

– Alexa Dizon

I really got my life back – I can’t even believe it!

“I just want to let you that I finally got my life back – I’m not a hyperhidrosis sufferer any longer!

Finally, I don’t sweat and stink – I can stay dry the whole day long without sweating profusely from my underarms.

Once again May god bless you for the work that you have done for me I really got my life back – I can’t even believe it”

– Alpha Bah

Now, just a fair warning, this system will NOT be around forever and I may take it down at anytime! So, please do not take this opportunity for granted. This may very well be the last chance you have to order Sweat Solver – particularly at this extremely discounted price.

The last thing I want is for you to be kicking yourself tomorrow, saying “I should have and now I can’t…” Download your copy right now before it’s gone and lock in your commitment to a sweat-free tomorrow.

You Solved My Problem!

“I used to stand with my arms crossed in fear of my armpit sweat being seen. Drysol completely destroyed my sweat problem.

I overkilled a bit and turned my left armpit into Lizard Scales for a bit but that’s healed now haha. Thank you so much for your website and your help.”

– Jonathan Grindstaff

This is the moment you begin the journey back to a life you love. The system will make it happen or your money back. Order today! Don’t put off this debilitating problem any longer.

Remember, if you want to finally look forward to the day ahead without feeling self-conscious, embarrassed and outright uncomfortable from sweating, you must download Sweat Solver today. Again, I can’t guarantee this offer will still be available if you decide to leave then return to this site. But, if you download right now, I WILL guarantee your results.

Included: The Full Video Library of Sweat Solver, The Ebook, 12 Downloadable MP3s including (as a bonus) the Video Narration, All Future Member Updates and Handholding Customer Support.

CLICK HERE TO SIGNUP NOW

Think about how wonderful it will be to take on each day with and incredible confidence you’ve never experienced before. You owe it to yourself to start living life to the fullest . Excessive sweating has held you down long enough. It’s now your responsibility to take charge of this problem and make a positive change. You can do it. It’s easier than you think. All you need are the right tools to set you free. I’ve put those tools together for you. All you have to do is take this first step.

Click the Download Button Below and start creating your excessive sweating success story.

Many wishes of health and happiness, Jason

PS. Your excessive sweating has won the battle for your social life for long enough. Don’t delay your happiness. Reclaim your confidence right now. This product is available to you for just $37 right now, click “Download” below and put this goal in motion.

PSS. I know you don’t need any more undue pressure, but this is now my professional life and to continue to live this life I may have to raise the price of this package. Please take my advice and spend $37 right now to start your life again. Remember, if you aren’t happy with the product you have 60 days to get your money back…no questions asked.

Instant Access – 24 Hours A Day – 7 Days A Week – 365 Days A Year!

We respect your privacy and billing is discreet/non-embarrassing.

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Download all mp3s, read the ebook, watch the videos and learn how to end excessive sweating within minutes. If you have any questions, please contact support by emailing support@sweatsolver.com We look forward to working with you!

[autisticsuperpower]

Self Care Can Be The Difference Between Living and Crashing and Burning.

Mental Health is very vital in today’s society.

Self-Care is one of the most important necessities that we can give to ourselves.

I should know because for many years, I’ve dealt with mental health issues. And I will be the one to admit, for many years, I did not give myself the self-care required to forge ahead in life.

Every time that I was dealing with issues, whether it was with anxiety, stress with school and communication, depression, you name everything in the book… I stored it all inside.

I was literally eating and drinking my hurt, my anger, my pain, and my suffering, and I did this for so long that my mental eventually spiraled out of control.

In fact, at one point, my mental health took a frightening physical turn.

As many of you that have read these posts on this blog, you’ve read my struggles with suicide, depression, anxiety, and so much more growing up, but there’s something I haven’t discussed openly.

Not until now.

The evening of Monday August 16, 2010.

I was 17.

It was around 9, 10pm.

Literally got back from a family trip the day before.

Sitting down at the family computer reminiscing on the past school year.

A year of many challenges, many obstacles, and many setbacks.

I just made the decision not to transfer schools, as that previous academic year was socially one of the worst years of my life.

Even though I had things to look forward to in the upcoming year, like Junior Prom and getting my Driver’s License, I was still a nervous wreck.

The fear of the unknown really kicked in.

Am I making the right decision to tough it out? What if things only get worse?

I began profusely sweating.

I was shaking erratically and I was hysterically crying to myself.

Next thing I know, I couldn’t breathe, and I felt like throwing up.

I quickly stood up and began running to the restroom.

However, before I could get there, I was out for the count.

Pitch black. Nothing.

The second I woke up, I was in an ambulance en route to the hospital.

A needle of IV was installed in my right hand.

My father was breathing a sigh of relief.

My mother and little sister were behind us in a family friend’s car.

First thing I thought: “What happened”?

As I was carried into the ER, I was informed that I had a really bad seizure.

They did some tests, they put me in a brain scanner, and I ended up spending the night at the hospital.

Without a doubt, one of the scariest nights of my life.

I went home the next day feeling exhausted and overwhelmed with what happened the night before.

I thought this was just an isolated incident, that I just pushed myself too far that night, but time wouldn’t agree with my body.

Another seizure followed 5 months later, on the way to my driving test, with me behind the wheel.

Tried to shake out the nerves while I was driving, but the same thing happened again.

Pitch black. Nothing. Out for the count.

Back at the hospital again, same procedure as last time.

I then at that point realized that it was something more severe than that.

Even though the doctors that evaluated me at the emergency room after both seizures weren’t able to find a logical reason, I ended up being seizure free for 9 years now thanks to giving myself better self-care for my own mental health (and taking medications, of course).

This past month, while being in quarantine, we all finally came to the conclusion of what really happened.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Depression, and Extremely High Levels of Anxiety and High Thoughts of Suicide, all wrapped together in a bow.

My 17 year old was pushing myself and my own body beyond my own mental and physical limits.

And it would take 1 and 1/2 to 2 years for me to finally cut myself and others slack for everything that had happened in my life.

Even though I am in a much better place now, able to drive, and live a relatively happy and productive life, I always have to remind myself to give me self-care.

To take time out for myself every once in a while to make sure I’m doing what I need to do mentally and emotionally.

That night I had my seizure was a wake up call I really needed.

If I didn’t stop hating myself for everything that had happened in my life at that point, it was only going to get physically worse from there on.

I need the time to refuel and to love myself. Now it’s time to pass it on. 🧩💙

[the-reclusive-wordsmith]

The Golden Hour

CHAPTER 5: FINDING HELP

Apollo had been running for long now. He was fatigued, but he did not want to give up. Gracie had very little time on her hands. Apollo had to get help for her before anything bad happened. 

With Gracie’s bracelet in his mouth, and his heart palpitating, he sped down the broadway that connected the barren outskirts to the larger civilian settlements. Having seen the first sight of a human after so long, relieved him. He had found his way into the city, finally. He reduced his speed and started looking around for people he could trust. But how was he to find trust in a stranger was an insurmountable task that he had to figure a way out of.

.

.

. 

Apollo was Dr. Cross’ dog. A Great Dane by birth. But somehow, he did not look like one. He had larger extremities, superior muscular build, sharper teeth, enhanced senses and a deafeningly loud bark. Apollo was so strong and fierce that if he wanted, he could take down a grizzly bear by himself. 

Apollo was never quite sure what it was, but as a puppy, he felt he was very different from what he is today. He used to be like the other Great Danes, the normal Great Danes... he would often miss his siblings very much. He missed his nanny with whom he used to play. He missed the small kennel that nanny got him.

Apollo still remembers the day he was captured by some men. It was a very unpleasant exchange. His nanny was weeping, but little pup Apollo could not do anything about it. He was picked up by a large man, and shoved in the back of a minivan, where he met many other dogs, just like him. Even for little Apollo, it was clear, that this was somehow not right. And that was the last time that Apollo saw his nanny. The van drove Apollo away. Far, far away...

.

.

.

Apollo was brought to the facility. He was new to this environment. He had never seen such tall buildings, nor had he seen so many machines before. With big beady eyes, shining with curiosity and a hint of fear, he looked around, trying to comprehend his surroundings. He tried to befriend his fellow dogs who were captured along with him. He realised that this was his new life now. 

Apollo was trained everyday by an instructor at the facility. He did not like his instructor, especially when his instructor would beat him if he refused to do certain tasks. He was always afraid of his instructor. These tasks were new to Apollo too. It involved tearing, biting, growling, and killing. This was so different from what his nanny had taught him. He knew how to fetch newspapers, or shoo away teenagers who would disturb his nanny. He knew how to jump through hoops or play with a ball. He also liked how his nanny booped his nose whenever he wanted to get some extra love. He loved lying in his nanny’s lap. But his instructor did no such thing with him. It was rather troubled times for Apollo growing up.

Apollo was not given the usual dog-food that nanny used to feed him. Instead his food came in thin glass bottles. A man with a white coat would come, to put a needle in his thigh. It pained initially, but as Apollo grew older, he became immune to the pain. He was no longer afraid of his instructor, or for that matter anyone now. Apollo grew in size quickly, became larger than any other dog of his breed. He did enjoy this apparent feeling of dominance. 

One surprising thing for Apollo, was the fact that he never got to see his old pals again with whom he had first come to the facility. He did see other dogs come in everyday in bunches, but just not the ones who had come in with him on the first day. He sometimes wondered what must have happened to them.

Apollo was trained as a military dog. But most of his training involved offence and not defense, which was surprising because other military dogs did not get such extensive offensive training. However, Apollo did not know much about the outer world, which made him unaware of his task at the facility. With minimal human interaction, it was only the facility that he had gotten to know during his training. 

Soon Apollo was cleared to work with the white coat guys at the facility. One of them, who seemed to be the boss, atleast to Apollo, was Dr. Richard Cross. He was Apollo’s new master. 

Dr. Cross would let Apollo accompany him almost everywhere. Apollo did not understand much of Dr. Cross’ work, but all he knew was that he was to follow what was told to him, even if it meant killing or getting killed in the process. 

.

.

.

It was quite late at the night and Apollo had no place to call home. The city had changed quite a bit from what he had seen as a pup. Reminiscing his childhood memories, he quietly walked down the sidewalk trying to smell for familiarity in the unfamiliar neighbourhood. A hint of hope is what makes blood, sweat and tears worthwhile perhaps. 

But Apollo’s search came to a halt, when a man came running from the other end of the street and bumped straight into Apollo and fell backwards as if he were thrown off a trampoline. It took time for Apollo to register too what the heck was going on. The man was perspiring profusely and constantly turned behind to gawk at the street. ‘But, there was no time to apologise to the unsuspecting innocent Apollo, was there?’, thought Apollo to himself. He was a tad bit offended on how a human who had eyes dead centre on his faces cannot see a huge dog infront of him! And not just any dog; he was Apollo afterall!

Apollo grrred through this sharp canines to scare the man for being so rude. Surprisingly, the man paid no attention, got up swiftly, and continued running haphazardly trying to deal with the blow he had just received from the collision. 

As the man sped past Apollo, he got a whiff of the man’s scent.

The back of Apollo’s ears started getting hotter. Apollo’s eyes started turning to a dark shade of red and Apollo’s heartbeat was off the charts. 

Apollo had found a familiar scent! He just could not recollect who it was, but he knew the man. Somehow, he did. 

Without much ado, he decided to go after the man. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is the help he needs to save Gracie.  

Apollo caught up with the man in a little while. He seemed to be running directionless. Apollo barked loudly to arrest the man’s attention, but that somehow made it worse, because the man started speeding up. Apollo was still confused what was going on. This certainly did not seem like a normal night jog. 

.

.

.

The man found a dumpster by the road and hopped into it. He tried to shoo Apollo away lest the loud dog gave away his position. ‘Oh, so he hiding from someone!’, realised Apollo. He scanned the surroundings and saw two cops approaching the dumpster slowly. They had probably seen the man get inside of it. 

Apollo knew what he had to do. Apollo took a strong stance, and barked furiously at the cops. The cops were taken aback by this attack. 

“Sh-sh-shoot that beast down!”, suggested one cop nervously.

“And explain the Chief, what? That we shot a dog because you shat your pants, bimbo?”, said the other cop exasperatedly. 

“We are not getting through him like this. Do something!”

As the barking became louder, the exasperated cop pulled out his taser and shot Apollo hoping to neutralise the dog. 

But it did not work. Apollo stood there, fiery-eyed, unscathed. The taser electrodes could not even penetrate through Apollo’s skin, let alone neutralise him. This was enough to scare even the toughest of men. The cops ran away and did not even look back for once.

The man was watching all this from the cover of the dumpster, play out infront of him. He had a faint smile on his face. 

“Apollo? Is that you?”, asked the man with surprise, coming out of the dumpster.

Apollo was taken aback. How did this stranger know his name? Apollo felt the heat coming back to his ears. He just could not remember who this man is. The man slowly approached Apollo and caressed his cheek.

“It has been so long, buddy. We have met before. Remember me? I am Sam.”       

Chapter 6: https://the-reclusive-wordsmith.tumblr.com/post/613935824286973952/the-golden-hour

[jarienn972]

The Right Place - Chapter Nine

I wanted to get this update in before tonight’s season premiere and whether or not you’re watching the new season, I am planning to - going into it with an open mind.  And here’s just a disclaimer: both of my WIP fics will be completed based on the first six seasons only so nothing from S7 will be referenced going forward.  

AO3   FF.Net   

Tumblr chapters: Prologue/One  Two  Three Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight

Wednesday morning, Portland Medical Center

Emma slept maybe an hour longer in that cramped space next to her husband, waking with a jolt when she shifted too far to her left and accidentally brought her forearm down across his incision when she thought her backside was falling off the edge of the bed. She instantly felt his body tense at the painful unexpected contact which had her apologizing profusely as she clambered off of the mattress. Thankfully, the discomfort wasn't enough to completely wake him. He simply moaned and groaned briefly before drifting back to sleep but she decided she certainly wasn't going to attempt bed sharing again.

Trying not to wake the fidgeting Henry either, she padded silently across the tile floor and ducked into the bathroom, pushing the door closed as quietly as she could before flipping on the lights. Finding a small bar of unscented soap resting by the sink, she turned on the water and worked up a decent lather before scrubbing her face, longing for a shower and a change of clothing but those would have to wait. She rinsed off with a few splashes of lukewarm water and dried her hands and face using a couple of paper towels from the dispenser to her right. It was scarcely enough to make her feel human, but it would have to do for the meantime.

A few early rays of morning sunlight were just beginning to filter through the vertical blinds when she pushed the bathroom door open. Henry had rolled to his right side with his back to the window now but it was clear he wasn't yet ready to give up sleep without a fight. The increasing light in the room didn't appear to be bothering Killian but she didn't want to take any chances that she would disturb either of them so she decided to take a stroll out to the corridor to have a chat with Deputy McCallen once again before his shift ended.

"You're up awfully early, Sheriff," the deputy commented as Emma pulled the door nearly closed behind her – just enough that she could still hear if her name was called but hopefully muffling the sound of any voices in the hallway.

"It's tough to sleep in a chair," Emma replied honestly. "Killian offered to share, but that really wasn't much better. I accidentally moved a little too quickly and hurt him, so not doing that again."

"I guess your son got the lucky draw there," he said, almost as a tease while folding up the front section of that morning's newspaper, resting it across his lap.

"Yeah – can't tell you how tempted I am to wake him up and commandeer that cot for myself!" McCallen chuckled at her response then almost instantly flushed with embarrassment, worried that his laughter could be construed as inappropriate. Emma noticed his demeanor changing and decided it was time to address his apparent worry of crossing the line into unprofessional behavior. "You know, you don't have to be embarrassed about laughing. I meant it to be a joke and finding what I said funny doesn't mean you've crossed any lines. This has been a stressful situation for everyone and we're all going to be stuck working together for a while so it's natural that subjects are occasionally going to get personal or sometimes border on the less than professional. It's normal and it's perfectly okay. Hell, I'm honestly surprised that you didn't ask me why I haven't changed my clothes…"

"I'm sorry, Sheriff. I'm not trying to sound cold or be insensitive or anything, I'm just not very adept at these kind of investigations. I spend most of my time at my desk processing reports and answering telephones. I really don't get out into the field much, but Sheriff Lassiter thought this would be a good case for me to get some more experience."

"Aside from being maybe a little too reserved, you're handling the investigation just fine. You're not going to offend either of us so don't be afraid to say what's on your mind or ask whatever questions you have swirling around in there too."

"You're sure?"

"Of course. Just like the question you asked about Killian's jewelry, you can ask anything. I know you must have a few questions that you've written down in that notebook of yours that you haven't had the courage to ask me…"

"Honestly, I have a lot, but I have a suspicious feeling that most of them are going to be those very long stories…"

"Well, probably," she sighed, leaning her left shoulder into the floor to ceiling window behind her. "Our lives haven't exactly been what you would call conventional…"

"How so?" McCallen wondered, almost immediately regretting the query. "That's not too personal, is it?" he added shyly.

"Maybe a little, but I'm really tired so what the hell - I'm game," she grinned. "Take me for example – I spent most of my impressionable years in the foster system, had a few run-ins with the law but eventually got those impulses tamed and became a bail bondsperson. A few years later, I became Sheriff of Storybrooke. My younger self would have been absolutely mortified by the thought."

"I'm sure. Doesn't sound like the easiest path to where you are today. What about your husband? I remember how surprised and honestly horrified I was when taking my evidence photos while we were trying to identify him. Seeing all of those scars covering his body… I can't even imagine what he must have been though…"

"His life might have been even harder than mine in some ways. His mother wasn't in the picture when he was a child – I guess she died or abandoned her family when he was very young and then his father abandoned him as a young child, leaving Killian and his older brother in the hands of a man who brutally abused them for years. They eventually got away from that awful situation and joined the Royal Navy for a while, at least until the Navy command betrayed them on a mission that cost his brother, Liam his life."

"Is that when he lost his hand?"

"No – that came a little later in his life – when he lost his first love as well."

"Wow – that's awful…," McCallen replied with a sudden realization. "Is that the name on his wrist tattoo?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Her death sent him headfirst down a very destructive path but he says that meeting me was his wake-up call to pull him back from a lot of years spent in a very dark place. We found that together we could heal some of those old wounds – mending so many of each other's broken pieces and after we married, I officially made him my deputy, but we really had been partners long before that…"

"You two do make an interesting pair. Now I understand a little better why you say that everything is a long story."

"Oh, I've only hit some of the highlights here!" Emma reminded the deputy with an exasperated giggle. "There are things about Killian that I still don't really know and there are things he doesn't yet know about me but we're slowly learning… Like the story of how Killian actually lost his hand – he doesn't like to talk about the details so I honestly don't even know the whole sorted tale. All I know for sure is that it involved a very jealous crocodile…"

"A crocodile?" McCallen exclaimed, looking up at her incredulously. "His hand was bitten off by a crocodile?"

"No – not an actual crocodile. That was the nickname he gave his lover's ex-husband – and that's definitely another of those long stories…"

Okay – I think I'll leave it at that. Not sure I want to know any more. Sounds too much like some bizarre medieval jilted lover's revenge plot…"

"Oh, you have no idea…," she laughed heartily, not really because of the subject but rather at how close to reality McCallen's medieval tryst implication actually came. She couldn't exactly explain that the truth of the situation from hundreds of years ago in another far-off realm was in fact, very medieval.

"Pretty sure I already know too much," McCallen started to say when he was cut off by the door behind them pushing open.

"Hey, Mom," Henry called, appearing in the doorway to Emma's right. "I think you need to come back in here. Killian seems to be having another nightmare…" She didn't hesitate as she darted past her son figuring things must be pretty bad if it had awakened him. The deputy rose to his feet, placing the newspaper on the chair as he stood hovering in the doorway behind the teen fully prepared to hail the nurse at the desk if necessary.

She'd only left his side minutes ago, but the tremors he'd experienced with the last nightmare had returned as had the sheen of sweat upon his brow. His heartrate and blood pressure were gradually increasing as well although not yet to levels that were attracting the nurse's attention.

"Killian?" she called out his name hoping to pull him back from the dreamscape. She lifted his hand into hers, letting her thumb graze across his knuckles, avoiding the tape securing the plastic tubing of the IV. "Killian, it's just a dream… I'm right here… No one's going to hurt you…" She raised her left hand to caress his cheek but he shrugged away from her touch the moment her fingertips brushed his skin. "It's alright…" she kept repeating calming words and clung tightly to his hand even as he attempted to pull it from her grasp. "Listen to my voice… It's only a dream…" She stubbornly refused to let go until the trembling finally subsided and his pulse gradually slowed. He drew in a few deeper breaths as his eyes open, wide with surprise and just a hint of fear. "Hey," she smiled as his gaze met hers. "You were just dreaming…"

"Didn't feel like a dream…," he replied breathlessly. "Felt as though I were drowning all over again…"

"Do you want me to call the nurse for you? You were shaking quite a bit there. Are you in any pain right now?"

"I'll be fine in a moment, Swan," he grimaced, clearly lying but obviously frustrated at his own helplessness. He didn't want his wife to be constantly worried about him. He just wanted to go home and get back to normal – whatever that might be for them. "I'm just ready to be out of this bed – to get my sea legs back, so to speak."

"And you will," she reminded him. "Like I told you earlier, there's no need to rush things. Storybrooke is in my father's capable hands, Regina will be here in a few hours and I'm not going anywhere." She'd said it all before but she didn't want him forgetting a single word. "You have to allow yourself time to heal…"

He knew she was right so there was no point to arguing but he was determined that he wouldn't be tended to for much longer. As soon as they removed some of these intrusive, infernal tubes and wires, he'd show that he was fully capable of taking care of himself.

"I know. I'm just a smidge impatient sometimes," he replied with a smirk.

"Don't I know it?" she retorted with a shake of her head. "A smidge?"

"Honestly, Love, right now I'm actually just worn out and maybe a little hungry…"

"Hungry? Well, that's new. I guess you haven't really eaten for three days so maybe it's a good thing that you're getting hungry. Let me see if I can find out what you're allowed to have."

Satisfied that the crisis had been averted and was no longer in need of his attention, McCallen relaxed his stance and retrieved the newspaper from his seat.

"Glad everything seems to have calmed down. I'll head back to my post until the next deputy arrives around eight. I've already finished up with this – well, except for the crossword puzzle. I'm hanging on to that section, but you're welcome to the rest if you'd like…" He held out the first three sections of the folded newspaper which Henry accepted.

"I'll take it. I'll give me something to look at until my other mom gets here…" the teen stated, much to McCallen's confusion once again.

"Other mom?" the deputy wondered but he quickly brushed it off. "Nevermind… I'm sure that'll be another one of your family's long stories…" Henry grinned but didn't respond as McCallen took his seat by the door shaking his head in disbelief while Henry re-entered his stepfather's room.

"I'll be right back," Emma stated, brushing past her son as she went to ask the nurse if Killian would be allowed any type of food, hoping they'd offer something other than gelatin which she knew he probably wouldn't eat. She really didn't want to explain why either.

Henry started unfolding the paper while still standing at the foot of the bed, separating the sections as he searched for the comics - which ended up being in the local and state section. He tossed the rest of the paper over onto the counter by the sink and opened up the portion he'd kept, briefly scanning the pages while he looked for the one he wanted then flipping them around so that the page he was reading would be on top. He took a single step away from the bed when something on the opposite page happened to catch Killian's eye.

"May I see that, Lad?" the pirate implored, his fingers inexplicably trembling yet again as he pointed at the periodical in his stepson's hand.

"You want to see the comics?" the somewhat bewildered teen asked, not quite sure what had captured Killian's attention enough to cause his hand to start shaking again. "You usually don't want to read them…"

"Not those ridiculous crude drawings," Killian replied. "The other page… There's a photograph I saw… May I see it closer?" Henry shrugged as he glanced at the opposing page to see an article about a new office building under construction above a half-page advertisement for a car dealership, neither of which would seemingly be of interest to his stepfather. He handed the paper to Killian as he watched the pirate's eyes narrow to focus on a grainy photograph depicting an older man standing in front of a construction site. It wasn't the clearest image on the newsprint, but it was more than enough for Killian to recognize that he'd seen the man pictured before.

"Bloody hell… That's the third man…" the pirate growled, loud enough to capture McCallen's attention, drawing the deputy into the room.

"Did I just hear you say something about the third man?" the deputy demanded, interest fully piqued at this potential new lead.

"The man in this photograph – he's the third man – the one who stabbed me," Killian repeated. The deputy yanked the paper from the pirate's hand in a manner that would have bordered on rude, but Killian didn't take offense as McCallen looked at the image and the caption below it.

"Are you sure about this?" McCallen asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "That man is Donovan Donleavy, head of Leviant Construction. You're telling me that he's the man who attempted to kill you?"

"I may not have been fully coherent at the moment, but I can assure you that I got a sufficient enough look at the face of my attacker to know that's him."

"Crap…," the deputy sighed, dropping the newspaper onto the pale blue blanket covering Killian's legs.

"Did I just hear someone saying 'crap'?" Emma wondered as she sauntered back in, unaware of the revelation that had just occurred, but instantly noticing the change in the atmosphere of the room. "Okay – what did I just miss?"

"Your husband just identified his assailant," McCallen stated without raising his gaze from the floor to look at her. "And if he's right, things just might have gotten a whole lot more complicated…"

"Okay…," Now she was even more curious as to what had transpired in the two or three minutes that she'd stepped away. "Unless I'm missing something, this should be a good thing, right? If Killian was able to identify the man who stabbed him, what so complicated?"

"I would typically say yes, this is a good thing," the deputy began, retrieving the newspaper to let Emma see the photograph for herself. "Except that the man who your husband identified is a fairly prominent Portland business man – head of a major construction company here. I can't just walk out of here and arrest him on the word of a man who just woke up from a two day coma. If Mr. Donleavy really is the person who stabbed you, Mr. Jones, we're going to have to work very carefully to build a rock solid case."

"I'm quite certain of the face I saw," Killian insisted, growing agitated that his word wasn't good enough.

"And I'm not doubting you," McCallen assured him, "but we can't go out there and accuse a man like him without plenty of evidence. First thing I intend to do is see if Donovan Donleavy has a registered sport fishing boat that hopefully was spotted somewhere near the ferry terminal Sunday morning. It'll be even better if he has a boat with a name that includes those letters and numbers you gave me earlier this morning."

"And now we definitely need to go back and talk to Jean Scott," Emma stated. "She mentioned receiving offers to sell her property. What if one of her potential suitors was getting a little pushy?"

"I see where you're going with that…," McCallen grinned. "We should find out if one of those potential buyers was Donleavy."

"Exactly!" she smiled. The deputy might not be so green after all.

"Okay, I guess I'd better go wake up Sheriff Lassiter and see what he wants us to do now," McCallen said as he checked the time on his watch with a frown and furrowed brow. "I also had better check in with Sgt. Haviland as well. He'd been letting our department run with the investigation when it seemed like just a run of the mill robbery case, but this has gotten a lot bigger than that."

"Think you could get him to meet you over here later this morning?" Emma wondered. "I'd really like to be involved in the discussions too."

"I'll definitely ask. He may want Portland P.D. to take over the case now, but we'll bring both him and Sheriff Lassiter up to speed and let them argue jurisdiction."

"I'd appreciate it if you'd keep me in the loop," Emma said, unsure if she'd be viewed by the others as a colleague or as a hindrance.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Sheriff," McCallen promised her. "You've been an invaluable help with getting our investigation this far. As soon as Sam gets here to take over sentry duty, I'll see what I can arrange."

"Don't you need some sleep?" she wondered.

"I caught a few hours yesterday afternoon and I'll grab a nap later. Right now, there's too much going on to worry about sleep…" The deputy was already out of the door and into the corridor before Emma could respond but Killian was now mildly amused.

"I concur with the deputy," he stated.

"You concur with what?" she responded with a curious sideways glance.

"There's too much going on to bother with sleep. I have a few tasks I would like to attempt this morning before Regina arrives to take the lad back home."

"Such as?"

"Perhaps a shower?" he asked, a hint of eagerness evident in his azure eyes. He made a visual point of raising his hand to his head, lacing his fingers through areas where he knew his dark hair was plastered to his scalp from salt water, sweat and the simple fact that his head had been pressed into a pillow for three days. He'd yet to see his own visage in a mirror, but he knew he was likely a fright with matted disheveled hair, a painful black eye and an untrimmed mess of whiskers adorning his battered face. "I believe I should make myself look at least decently presentable before the Queen arrives."

"Seriously?" she deadpanned before both she and Henry erupted in laughter, much to her husband's chagrin. "Killian – Regina knows what you've been through. You don't have to be concerned about vanity…"

"Perhaps," he replied in a huff. "But it would also make me feel a lot better as well. I most certainly do not feel like my devilishly handsome self at the moment…"

"Okay," She could see his point now. "The nurse will be in soon with some broth or something for you to try. We'll ask her then. Not sure what they'll say or how they'll even work it with all of your bandages, but we can ask." Turning toward her son, she had a task for him. "Henry, would you be willing to run out to the Bug and get my black duffel bag out of the trunk?"

"Sure. Where are your keys?" Henry asked, picking up his jacket from the floor next to the chair."

"In my coat pocket," she replied.

"Got it! Be right back!" The teen fished the key ring from her coat hanging on the closet doorknob and darted toward the door.

"Don't forget to tell Deputy McCallen where you're going – better yet – see if he'll go with you so he doesn't freak out when you return carrying a duffel bag." She didn't even know if her son had heard the last part of her statement, but hopefully enough of the message had gotten through so that she could now return her full attention to her husband. "Now – if you do get permission to shower, you might as well get some of your own clothing as well. I didn't really know what to bring so I just sorta grabbed a few things I thought might be comfortable – some pajama pants and a couple of shirts. Wasn't sure if the button up or the T-shirt ones were going to better so I brought both…"

"Well, then hopefully the nurse will be here very soon, while the lad isn't present. I'm quite certain that they'll need to adjust certain 'attachments' in order for me to make my way into that bath…" He pointed to the open bathroom door, then allowed his gaze to drift downward and Emma immediately understood.

"Well, then, maybe you should press that call button to get her attention." Emma couldn't help herself as she started giggling at his expense once more. "I'll let you be the one to argue that point…"