#an angle constantly riping through you

[juiceboxthief]

is there a single character that Charlie slimesicle has created that doesn't have some sort of chronic pain? and/or body horror? mostly both.

[softquietsteadylove]

More from the Maleficent one please?

Druig stretched out his wings to cushion his landing. It was familiar, landing among the crags of a cliff side lush with vegetation. He had gotten quite used to the treetop nests woven from branches and leaves.

Thena's nest had been picked out painstakingly. She chose a spot high up, fairly away from most other fae. The quartz in the rock face had ripples that would let an acceptable amount of light into the chamber, while also not requiring her to hide away from the sun. She had already begun the task of arranging glowing moss and flowers along the walls.

Druig set down the fruit he had went out to fetch specifically for his sister. He had been feeling negligent, as of late, spending all his time with Makkari, the mate of his dreams. Thena liked Makkari, of course, and they spent time together around the group fires and all. But he felt he was missing something.

Thena was smiling all the time, her wings were fluttering constantly, like a fledgling eager to take off with every breeze. He had even caught her humming to herself as she collected berries the other day.

"Here," he murmured, tossing a mango gently in her direction. She caught it, but she was preoccupied with her task of arranging some white moon lilies along her walls. He cleared his throat before taking a bite for himself, "looks good in 'ere."

Finally Thena turned around, also admiring her hard work to make the cliffside inlet a home. It was looking like a real nest of an Isle fae. "I believe so."

Druig kept his eyes on her as she took a delicate bite of the mango's ripe red skin. He still couldn't place what seemed different about her, but he was determined to uncover it. "So, how'd you find this spot?"

Thena sat herself on the edge of her bed--her nest within her nest. It was a plush pile of mosses and leaves, enough to soften around her body and keep her from the stone floor of the place. She had even fashioned a pillow out of several bromilliads. "I had help."

That was all his sister had to say on the matter, but Druig knew more than she thought he did. As if he would miss the border patrol fae who had been lingering around her since they arrived. He had been a guide and a guardian for them, sure. But Druig could see more.

He could see the way Thena smiled around him, or how he fed her fruits while the rest of the flock was partaking in roast fish and molluscs. He could see them flying off at dawn, wings pitch white and pitch black respectively.

It didn't surprise him that the fae named Gilgamesh had helped her find the perfect spot. He was a strong flyer, with long wings, probably used the updrafts from the springs below to scour the whole cliff for the perfect spot.

"Hm?" Thena looked at him, prompting him to speak his mind. The two of them didn't always need the exchange of words, but she was asking him specifically.

Druig slurped at the pit of his mango loudly. Thena glared at him and he threw his head back in a laugh. "So, where is he, 'en?"

She tilted her head.

Druig raised his eyebrows, "your prospective mate?"

Thena thought herself so hard to read, and maybe to a stranger that was true. But Druig could see clear through his sister. He saw the twitch of her eyes and the angle of her head and the way her wings rustled behind her. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Sure y'do," he murmured, finishing off his mango pit and tossing it down in a pile of leaves he would take with him. "He seems nice enough. Friendly guy, good flyer, I'm sure he'd fight for ye if he had to-"

"Druig, no one is fighting anyone," she said with such a tone it hissed from between her fangs. "I have no such...prospects."

Druig looked up at the ceiling of the cavernous nest. It was spacious--loverboy had found her a really good spot. He looked at the veins running through the white quarts, at the flowers Thena had hung and at the wisteria hanging over her nest like snowfall. "Gilgamesh."

All he had to do was utter his name and Thena's shoulders raised, her wings trembling on her back. She set aside the remaining half of her mango to glare at him.

But he was no longer a fledgling testing out his boundaries. She couldn't scare him out of this one (even with that tone). "Feels as if I never see you two apart, nowadays."

"I'm sure you're mistaken about that."

Druig grinned, though. He kind of liked rising to his sister's challenge. He liked riling Ikaris too, but with him it devolved so quickly. Thena was more of a match of wits. "So I don't see you sittin' 'round the gathering fire, just waitin' for him?"

Thena didn't even rise to that bait. Not enough.

"I don't," Druig shrugged, adjusting his own pitch black wings on his back, smaller and lighter than hers, "see you two whispering all the time?"

She rolled her eyes. He was getting to her.

Druig raised a brow; this, he genuinely wanted to know about. "I didn't see him with his arm 'round your back one night after you went down to the springs?"

Thena's back straightened.

"T," Druig made a solemn plea. He didn't like having to talk about this kind of thing. Thena was his sister, as well as the only mother he had any memory of. "You can handle yourself, I know. But...if this seagull is takin' liberties-"

"Druig," she cut him off again, with an even more firm tone than before. She was as good as screaming at him, as far as he was concerned. "Enough."

That was still enough to make him feel like his horns were coiling even tighter against the sides of his head.

"Gilgamesh is not guilty of anything untoward," she stood from her bed to chastise him properly. "And even asking if he has proves that you do not know him."

Druig avoided looking directly in her eyes. They were still wing and wing for who was taller than whom, but he deliberately drew up his posture and made his shoulders wider than hers. "Then maybe I should get to know him."

It was a reasonable argument, but Thena wavered. She kept her expression the same, but something about it made her falter. "No."

"Why not?" he prodded. If some strong arm fae was gonna try his hand at courting his sister he had a right to know! Ikaris would feel the same, but when he pieced together the puzzle was up to the spirits and the skies themselves.

"Drop it," she growled at him, returning to her decorating to busy her hands.

Druig leaned to look past her, tilting his head. "Oi."

She ignored him.

"Oi," he repeated more firmly, walking closer to her bed. She turned, splaying out her wing to keep him away. He pointed from a distance, "wassat?"

She raised her brow at his lack of diction, but she did look behind her at what had drawn his attention. Her shoulders flinched and when she turned back, her expression was completely unreadable. "What."

"That," he repeated, but she raised her wings to block even his pointing finger. He huffed, "come on."

"There is nothing to see," she repeated, but the fact that she maintained her posture of using her wings to shield his view was damming.

"T."

"If there were something there, it would be none of your concern."

Druig's eyebrows raised so high he felt his hair rustle against his horns. His sister was well and truly ruffled over whatever this was. He pulled his wings back.

"Don't you dare," she glowered.

He let loose one strong wing beat. It displaced most of the newer and less secured fixtures of the nest. He would grovel for forgiveness and help put them all back later. But his eyes caught the sight of a pitch black - actually, there was a warm brown undertone to it - feather catching the air just for a second.

Thena snatched it close to her chest and pointed, "out!"

Druig was stunned. He'd had an inkling of what was happening between his sister and the guardian fae. Maybe he could have imagined they were courting in secret, had exchanged a trinket or two. But...but a feather?!

"Out!" Thena repeated, clutching the feather against her heart and urging him out of her nest as if they were still budding fae learning to control themselves.

"No way," Druig shook his head. He would cower in fear of his terrifying sister later. He stepped closer. "His feather is in your nest?"

Thena attempted not to dignify his question with a response, but he was horrified to see colour rise in her ghostly pale cheeks.

It was particularly condemning evidence. It was where she was to lay her head! This was beyond sneaking a kiss or a hand or even light preening.

Druig felt his blood run cold, "has he declared himself?"

He wasn't an old fae of old tradition, but he had some decency. And to his further horror, Thena's shoulders curled somewhat inward, "it's not-"

"I'll kill 'im," Druig snarled, turning and nearly able to take off until he felt his sister's hand bunch up the back of his tunic. "Oi!"

"Druig," Thena pleaded more quietly. That was also as good as screaming at him. She pulled him back into the nest, still holding the feather. "Neither of us has...nothing has happened."

He didn't want to think about what 'nothing' could mean. But he stared at his sister, unusually sheepish as her wings unfurled slightly. "This isn't just some matter of you two tradin' a li'l lip, T. You have his feather in your bleedin' nest and where's he?--has he got your feather on 'im?!"

She looked away, and Druig felt that same feeling bubble up in his throat. He had no business concerning himself with his sister's mating desires. She was her own fae. But the thought of some stud flying around knowing he had an open invitation to his sister's nest and couldn't even pay the same courtesy of displaying that he was unavailable-

"Druig," Thena repeated, pulling him from his thoughts. She smiled, patting his shoulder, and then roughly plucking out a downy feather, "stop."

He sighed. She would just pull out more if he didn't. He relaxed his wings on his back and lowered his shoulders. "When did this happen, eh?"

Thena looked away again, cradling that feather so bloody lovingly. "I couldn't say when exactly. Perhaps we simply...found our way to understanding one another."

That felt so much worse to hear. It sounded like a lame 'magic makes eggs and that's how baby fae are made' explanation. Druig gritted his teeth and scratched the hair between his horns in the back. "Are you, y'know...?"

Thena looked at him blankly. Bloody woman! Druig looked away from the woman who raised him, warmth rising throughout his face. "If he's ever hurt you-"

"Nothing of the sort."

At least he didn't have to bash his head through the wall of her nest just yet. Druig rubbed his hand over his face with a sigh. "Does Ikaris know?"

"Do you think he does?"

Right, a foolhardy question. Ikaris wouldn't know until the day Thena landed with Gilgamesh in front of them, hand in hand, actively preening his wings.

Druig tilted his head again. He could ask questions until he was blue in the face, but Thena wouldn't give up any truly personal details. And he didn't truly want to know them. "Are you happy?"

She smiled at him, like she did when he was a hatchling first learning to ride air currents, or climb in height without them. She nodded.

"Right, good 'nough," he muttered, saying all he desired on the matter. He was quite ready to dispose of their snacks and take his leave. He turned back to her, pointing again. "But I mean it, if he ever-"

"Hey Thena, I-oh!"

Thena beamed at the arrival of the man of the hour. Druig stepped aside, completely devoid of the desire to get in between the lovebirds. He watched her nearly lean in to embrace him but stop herself. Likewise, he could see Gilgamesh's hand float upwards but avoid settling on her back between her wings. At least they had some decency.

"Sorry to interrupt," Gilgamesh said gently. He had a soft voice, for such an intimidating fighter. "I just got back--Makkari's looking for you, actually."

Druig resisted the urge to fly off right that very second. He eyed Gilgamesh cautiously, "s'all right, I was just, uh, givin' T a hand."

Gilgamesh looked around the nest, openly admiring the progress made. "It looks beautiful in here!"

Thena looked so delighted that Druig wished he could fake throwing up (not that she wouldn't throw him from the cliff for it).

"Did you eat?" Druig heard her ask him quietly.

He shook his head.

She nodded, her wings subconsciously rising on her back. Druig could remember a time when she dreaded meal gatherings because of how bitter the fish were here. She looked at him, "after you."

He huffed. She was making sure he didn't have time to linger behind her and give Gilgamesh a piece of his mind. "Aye."

Druig walked past them both, ready to fly ahead of both of them. But the evening sun hit the rock face just so, and he got a glimpse of something sparkling.

Delicate and stark white, folded between the layers of his robes, sat a pristine white feather. Gilgamesh caught him looking and tugged at the top layer of his tunic, concealing the feather once again. He looked nervous.

They both knew Druig had seen, there was no concealing that. But Druig just nodded to him before dropping off the cliff and opening his wings. He would ask him about it later. Or he would ask Thena about it when she was in more of a sharing mood. Or he would tell Ikaris and their middle brother would do all the work of threatening to drown Gilgamesh for meddling in their sister's life.

Or...he could keep it to himself. He drifted quietly, glancing up as two much larger winged flyers passed above him. Gilgamesh flew at Thena's pace, the two of them bending and swerving around one another's air currents, as if dancing. Druig faked gagging on something at the sweetness of it.

[basedkikuenjoyer]

Snow Day, Post Kikus

♫ "If the scattered stories have connections somehow, the threads of time will be rewoven." ♫

A lucky, lucky snow day indeed. I do work a job where we get those off which is nice because I fell on the ice yesterday. Fortunately a long history of theatre and stage combat means I know how to fall. Means I could get around to this, even if it means breaking Shyarly letting me transition out. I hope y'all like tomorrow's post. Today though, we are anchored by a lovely anime Kiku face because it's been a minute. Last chance to recap & refocus as we come out of the holiday slowdown for mainline One Piece chapters. We should have a fun back half of Academy's latest soon too. Still very cool to me I can talk about Kiku the same way for both.

That quote up top, if you're familiar with One Piece you've probably been hearing the Japanese line it's a translation of. It's from the new Egghead opening. Given how we've been looking at this arc so far...feels a little like a promise y'know?

We still really just went and did that with this Kuma flashback didn't we? Ginny at God Valley opens it by showing off a sharp lady preemptively setting up a smokescreen through the snails then Kuma wraps it up through an alternate POV flashback. That was the idea for so long before we got there; Kiku's weird ending and role in Wano is ripe for that style of flashback and you could do it with Egghead via the Grand Fleet. Miss Unassuming who doesn't want a fuss about her quietly slipped away.

It's still that Rashomon angle to me, seems like the simple idea showing all these sidestories might be baiting you to ask who threads the needle was already gaining traction before the opening nudges at it. Right now you have Vivi and Bonney. Both showing something people paid attention to before their stories end on a note that kinda makes them feel more like Law/Kid. We're moving on, you have other things to do behind the main story getting into the final phase. How we now have enough known unknowns to thread another one of these cutaways through Stussy, Marco, and Drake giving his Chekov's Report to SWORD...Kiku's just grown as someone solid to do that through what's on the table in front of us. Still plays pretty nice with the initial Kishotenketsu outline too, Rashomon fits that perfectly by design. The only problem with the initial sketch is it assumed Egghead would be shorter like most of us did.

Especially with how Vegapunk punted on the question of what happened last night in the lab. That was clever. That's still hanging. Don't forget Robonosuke came online. It'd be cute as hell if Luffy was right about only needing to know his name and someone who knew Toki well could believably know that detail without stepping on Robin's general role too much. I didn't get this nice little exchange last time to show the real meat of skipping that. But isn't it really close to say...what you could draw out of that hypothetical time to talk between Kiku & Marco? Funny thing is, you're really just a twist of fate away from Kin'emon doing the same right away in Act 1.

Kin & Kanjuro are out for this little scene tail end of Dressrosa. They're the ones who hear the rumor about Rebecca's parentage and sorta spur the last leg of the Straw Hat story into motion from there. So they don't see this quiet side story. It's kind of interesting how the Samurai are kept away from knowing too much about Luffy's story with the Whitebeard Pirates because of Izo. Neko is probably worldly enough to just know it offhand and we already have that idea he was playing a little coy saying he was seeking out Marco. That's all on top of Kiku & Izo already being this parallel reunion turned tragic.

It's still too weird to leave all that hanging tacked onto someone who already pulls a perfect little thematic bookend about Wano's deeper darkness then constantly have Egghead play with the same ideas. If these scattered stories could be connected somehow, time would be rewoven. The time part is easy. Past to future arcs and the element of Toki as this adjacent unraveled enigma. Been thinking about the Grand Fleet too...does it just have to be serving as the cavalry at Egghead? Don't get me wrong, that's spectacle enough but don't forget we've woven their captains into these sidestories already.

One thing I wonder about more and more is how them and like, potential with Robonosuke don't even need to be mutually exclusive. How much are they needed on Egghead? How much could they, under smart guidance, tip the scales on these side stories? Ginny wasn't a sudden precedent, the reveal just like we suggested before was that she was setting things up the whole time. Even if you wanted reinforcements Orlumbus has the bulk of your raw numbers. But like...you could spin something grander.

What if the Fleet intervened everywhere? Circle back to Kid's story, he does get fished out because shortly after Barto showed up to make a formal apology. Law's/Koby's retreat ends up being covered by someone like Cavendish and Ideo. Sai or Leo serve as a go-between to relay a high-stakes negotiation to figure out Vivi's safe without exposing her. That's a cool idea too. And would work well with the idea Egghead's main story is a lateral move. Luffy almost went to either Blackbeard or Shanks but a game of rock-paper-scissors had him stumble into a story we've pointed out is irrelevant to the Straw Hats and their own interests. There's a lot of cool ways to spin that, but going into a new year it still feels like the best anchor to the broader story lines up with what was left unfinished on Wano.

And if nothing else, we'll always have Academy.

[embracedthevoid]

An Unfortunate Romance

Prince Wilhelm has gained a reputation more suitable for a teen heartthrob than the Prince of Sweden. Constantly pictured with what the press has coined his 'flavour of the week,' he's gained an unfavourable reputation with the tabloids. Being front-page news isn't exactly the type of attention the crown is looking for. The obvious plan to get Prince Wilhelm's image back on track is to find him a stable and respectable boyfriend. And who better than Simon Eriksson? Hillerska's golden boy with the voice of an angel. Too bad Wilhelm and Simon can't stand each other.

Chapter Three

Rating: Mature Chapter word count: 7265 Read on ao3 "We kissed," Wilhelm squeaks, his cheeks burning as he tilts his phone to the roof, so his brother won't see how Wilhelm has practically turned into a tomato.

Despite not being able to see his brother now, Erik's amusement still rings clear through his chuckle, "so, you've kissed loads of people," he teases.

Wilhelm focuses the phone back on himself, so he can adequately glare at his brother, "I have not kissed," he mimics Erik, "loads of people. I have kissed a reasonable amount of people." Wilhelm claims. Sure, there was a period of his life where he might have gone a little boy, girl, and anything in between crazy. But, according to his PR team, he's on the straight and narrow now, ready to settle down with a boyfriend at the ripe old age of sixteen.

Erik's laugh sounds through the speakers, and despite his brother's teasing, Wilhelm misses him. Sure, throughout the last couple of weeks, they've talked on the phone, but he wishes he could have his brother in front of him. Life's not the same when Erik can't constantly save Wilhelm from uncomfortable situations or give him mediocre pep talks whenever he needs one.

"So you kissed," Erik continues, "what's the big deal?" He watches as his brother lifts a glass of scotch to his lips.

Wilhelm slumps into his chair, lifting his feet to rest on his bed so he can prop the camera up in front of him. It's not the prettiest angle, but Erik will just have to deal.

"It was–" Wilhelm pauses, thinking back to the way Simon's lips felt on his. They were soft, more so than Wilhelm expected them to be. In fact, everything about Simon felt smooth and delicate under his fingers. He can still taste hits of citrus dancing across his tongue. Which he should have been expecting, considering the copious amounts of oranges the boy eats. He remembers the way Simon whimpered when Wilhelm pulled at his hair––it had felt so good knowing Wilhelm was the reason for it. His curls were as smooth as they look, softer even. Wilhelm only wishes he'd had the proper chance to drag his fingers through them.

"Wille?" Erik's voice comes loud through the speaker, pulling Wilhelm from his daydream and back to the call. Erik gives him a smile that Wilhelm recognizes as one before he's about to be teased. "You have a crush." Erik chimes.

"What?" Wilhelm sits up straighter, his voice coming out higher than he meant. "I do not!" he tries a little too defensively.

Erik only chuckles through the screen, "yes, you do."

Wilhelm groans, because well, what if Erik is right? Simon is attractive. Wilhelm would have to be blind to think differently. But there's no way Simon would ever be interested in Wilhelm. Hell, the boy already told him they would never kiss again, so clearly, it didn't have the same impact on Simon as it did for him.

Wilhelm sighs, collapsing his head forward. "I don't know. He's nice to look at," he tries to sound uninterested, but of course, Erik sees right through him. "Besides, he still hates me." Wilhelm continues with certainty.

"I'm sure that's not true Wille," Erik insists, looking past his phone where someone must be trying to get his attention, "I have to go, but I'll see you at Parents' Day."

"Parents' Day? Aren't mom and dad coming?" Wilhelm asks, feeling both relieved and somewhat hurt.

"They've got a state visit," Erik quickly explains, then says something to a person off-camera. "Bye Wille," Erik hangs up before Wilhelm has a chance to respond. The room falls into an uncomfortable silence that hovers over Wilhelm. He moves to sit on his bed and lean back against the wall. He opens his phone, scrolling through Instagram and stopping at a photo Simon posted an hour ago.

In the picture, Ayub sits in what appears to be a living room, with a deck of cards laid out in front of him. Simon holds the camera pointed at them both, Simon sticking out his tongue, with Ayub looking playfully upset. Wilhelm reads the caption 'victory is mine,' followed by a row of enthused emojis. Wilhelm chuckles, admiring their friendship. He's about to keep scrolling when he stops, biting his lip and thinking about his conversation with Erik.

He doesn't have a crush on Simon. There'd be no point. Simon has made it incredibly clear that he's not interested in Wilhelm, but that doesn't mean they can't be friends, right?

He clicks on Simon's profile and presses the message button. His thumbs hover over the screen, contemplating if Simon will even message him back. He takes a deep breath thinking again on his brother's words, then trying desperately to forget about them. This is stupid. They've talked a bit this last week, so sending Simon a message is the least strange thing he can do. Wilhelm thumbs and the screen pressing send before he can talk himself out of it.

Are you going to the party this weekend? - W

Wilhelm's heart hammers as he chucks his phone to the end of the bed then throws his pillow over it for good measure. He lets a few more seconds pass before feeling brave enough to look at it. He reaches forward, sliding it back into sight, and notices there's already a notification brightening the screen. Simon responded. Wilhelm quickly unlocks it, eyes eagerly capturing the words.

Wasn't invited - S Not really my scene - S

Oh. - W It would probably look good if we went together? - W

Wilhelm cringes inwardly, preparing to close out of the app just as three tiny dots appear at the bottom of the screen. Wilhelm's heart starts pounding harder in his chest. It's not a big deal. Alice said they need to make things seem real. That's all Wilhelm is doing. Making it real. He takes a deep breath then looks at his phone again.

I dunno if August would want me there. It's his party, isn't it? - S

Technically it's my party. It's my initiation after all. - W

Of course it is - S

Wilhelm can practically feel the judgment rolling off Simon through his phone. He wishes he could have talked August out of it, but unfortunately, he had no luck. Besides, Wilhelm had already been at the school a week. He should be thankful no one had snuck into his room, stolen him away and made him do humiliating tasks like they had Erik when he first came to Hillerska. Erik is most likely the reason for that. So really, Wilhelm should be happy with a simple party. Though he's sure August will make it terrible in one way or another. Maybe if Simon's there, even if they spend the entire night bickering, it'll be a little more tolerable.

You can bring Sara - W Felice will be there. They're friends right? - W

Wilhelm tries, hoping it'll be enough to persuade the boy.

Yeah, I'll go. - S But if August says one rude thing I'm leaving. - S

Deal. - W

Three tiny dots appear and disappear. It happens twice before they're gone for good. Wilhelm scrolls up to read their conversation. It's probably the most they've said to each other since the kiss. But Wilhelm supposes everything is easier through a screen.

He looks out the window. The moon glows high in the night sky, illuminating his room, ridding it of total darkness. Wilhelm shuffles down to properly lay in bed and wraps his arms around himself. His mind roams back to Simon. He really hasn't been able to stop thinking about it. He's barely been able to concentrate on anything else. Every time Wilhelm closes his eyes, his mind wanders back to how Simon felt against him, even now, as he tries to let sleep take him. Eventually, the darkness of the room consumes him, lulling him into a deep sleep.

* * * * *

Wilhelm's heated kiss sweeps deliciously across smooth skin as he presses into the mattress. His head tucks into the curve of the boy's neck, trailing wet kisses across tender flesh, devouring, marking, and claiming. He closes his lips on the delicate ridge of the boy's jaw and sucks fervently, drawing deep sighs that hang heavily in the air between them. Filling the room with sweat and lust, it tastes heavenly under Wilhelm's tongue as he licks a hot strip across the boy's adam's apple.

The boy shutters, trembling around Wilhelm, whose hips snap at the sensation. They groan in unison where their bodies connect. Pleasure sparks behind Wilhelm's eyes as he pulls back to lean on his elbows, supporting himself to look down at the beautiful boy below.

Simon moans as Wilhelm shifts his hips once more, dipping down to capture the boy's lips with his. He ruts carefully into Simon, soft grunts escaping the boy with each thrust. Simon's legs wrap around his waist, bringing their bodies closer as Simon's eyes flutter shut, lost in the bliss of Wilhelm's rhythm, and allowing Wilhelm to lose himself in Simon. Pulling every bit of passion from deep in his gut and pouring it into the boy as they move perfectly together.

"Wille," Simon whimpers from below.

Wilhelm leans back to see the boy desperate and withering against him. Simon reaches up to tangle his fingers in Wilhelms' hair, using his dark blonde locks to push their lips together, wet and hungry. Wilhelm moans into the boy's mouth as Simon hitches his thighs higher on Wilhelm's waist, drawing him closer, deeper.

"Wille, I'm gonna–" Simon whimpers, lips parting, "I'm–"

Wilhelm jumps in his bed, startling awake at a knock on his door. His chest rises and falls at a telling rhythm, his cheeks crimson and his boxers uncomfortably tight.

"Prince Wilhelm," there's another tap on the door as Wilhelm registers Alexander's voice. He must have slept in because the boy only goes door to door when the last of breakfast is about to close.

"Yup," Wilhelm calls out a strained response as he rolls onto his back. Sweat marks his brow as he wills himself to calm down.

That was… an interesting dream.

Wilhelm forces his breaths to come slower as he stares at the ceiling, completely unsure of what to think about what just happened. After a long moment of calming himself, he decides that it's Erik's fault for putting thoughts of Simon into his head. It has nothing to do with the way Wilhelm feels for the boy. Simply, a natural result of the events that have occurred over the last few weeks. He's sure of it.

Wilhelm groans frustratedly into the open space of his room. It's going to be a long day.

* * * * *

Thankfully none of Wilhelm's morning classes place Wilhelm directly beside Simon. He silently thanks whatever force orchestrated this because all he can think about is the way Simon had looked in his dream. That combined with knowing how Simon tastes, Wilhelm's cheeks are going flush just thinking of it. Simon is hot. That's all there is to it. Wilhelm only needs to make it through his morning classes, and then maybe, he'll actually be able to survive the day.

Unfortunately, Wilhelm's plan to avoid the boy doesn't last for long because their math class falls right after the break. Wilhelm tries to act as normal and possible, which surprisingly proves easy considering Simon barely looks in his direction. Which Wilhelm tries not to find strange, but he does.

Simon does the same thing in their next class, and it quickly becomes easy enough for Wilhelm to forget his worries as the boy distances himself further. Not bothering to acknowledge Wilhelm outside of 'hello' and 'goodbye.' It's not until Felice asks Wilhelm if he and Simon are fighting that confirms Wilhelm's not going crazy. Simon is definitely avoiding him, and Wilhelm has no idea why.

He is supposed to be the one dodging Simon, not the other way around.

Wilhelm makes a point to find the boy later in the day. He's sitting at the table they usually do, with orange peels piled in the centre, because what else would Simon be snacking on. Wilhelm's mind flits back to the way Simon tasted like oranges, only for that to lead Wilhelm into his dream, and the way he had pictured Simon with his thighs wrapped– Wilhelm clears throat and refocuses as he walks toward the table, startling Simon slightly when he pulls out a chair and sits down.

Simon looks at Wilhelm quizzically, eyes darting around the library, "Don't you have class?" he asks, almost seeming annoyed that Wilhelm has interrupted him.

"We had a test. I finished early," Wilhelm explains, trying not to let the boy's tone sting. Why should it? Simon's always been like this with Wilhelm.

"Oh," Is all Simon says, then moves back to his book.

Wilhelm frowns, "so you're coming this weekend?" Wilhelm asks with an anxious knot in his chest. He knows Simon previously agreed, but hearing the boy say it in person feels more official.

"Mhm," The boy nods unconvincingly.

"Do you uhm– do you want to meet there or…" Wilhelm clears his throat, hoping his questions will earn him more than one-word answers.

"No," Simon says plainly, not bothering to look up from his studies. Wilhelm can see him pressing his lips together, though, deep in thought before he continues, "Sara and I are gonna go together."

Wilhelm ignores the twinge that strains in his chest, "oh." It makes sense though, they are coming from the same place.

Simon finally looks up at Wilhelm, frowning slightly, "She can still come, right?" he asks, eyebrows knitted together like he's ready for an argument.

"Of course," Wilhelm assures.

"Good."

"Good."

Wilhelm sits in silence, unsure of what exactly he's waiting for, but when he realizes he's not going to get it, he determines it's best if he leaves. Clearly, Simon wants nothing to do with Wilhelm right now, and he'll respect that, despite how much it hurts. He only wishes the boy would tell him if he needs some space. It would make this entire situation a lot easier to navigate.

The rest of the week treks on in the same pattern. Speaking enough to not gain unwanted attention, but also not enough to gain the attention of Wilhelm's actual friends.

Felice and Wilhelm had started talking again, having known each other from when they were little. Wilhelm is grateful to have fallen into an easy friendship with her, picking up right where they left off, chasing each other on the playground.

Wilhelm tries to convince Felice that everything is fine between Simon and him, but she clearly doesn't believe Wilhelm with the way she's raising her eyebrows at him, saying, 'don't even try to fool me.'

"I don't know," Wilhelm finally gives in, biting at his nail as they sit on the steps facing the large pond spanning across campus. Breathing in the crisp air around them, which Wilhelm is thankful for, as to hide the heat pooling in his face at the thought of the boy. Even just talking about Simon makes him blush. What the hell is happening to him?

"It seemed like things were going good. What changed?" Felice asks, kindness laced into every word. She genuinely cares, which makes Wilhelm feel even worse for lying about everything.

Wilhelm shrugs, trying to find a way to be as honest as possible. "Ever since that kiss... he's just been acting strange." Wilhelm finally says.

"You mean when you were sucking face in the school hallway?" Felice smiles at him, bumping her shoulder playfully with his. "Well, you must have kissed before then. What was different this time?" Felice questions thoughtfully.

"Well…" Wilhelm trails off. He should probably say that yes, they've kissed before, but lying to his friend seems wrong. Plus, claiming to have done something more with Simon when he's not there to confirm he's okay with it, feels even worse.

"Oh my god, Wille!" Felice explains, jaw-dropping as she turns her body to face him more directly, "that was your first kiss?"

Wilhelm shrugs once more, the cold air doing nothing to hide his blush this time. "Maybe he wasn't into it?" Wilhelm questions, knowing full well it might be the actual answer. Simon's words of it being a ‘one time thing’ echo in his ears, causing his stomach to do an uncomfortable flip.

Felice snorts, "considering what I heard about it, he definitely enjoyed it," Felice says suggestively, quick to defend herself when Wilhelm glares pointedly at her. "Look, you practically jumped the guy in the hallway. People are going to talk." Somehow sympathy finds its way into Felice's excuse. Wilhelm knows her intentions aren't malicious. She can't help the rumours that spread around the school, and Wilhelm can't help what she gets told. Thankfully though, over the short time it’s taken for their childhood friendship to be rekindled, Felice has never really listened to any of it.

"I've got to meet Sara at the stables," Felice begins to stand, "you'll be okay, though?" She asks with gentle eyes, telling Wilhelm if he were to say no, she would stay.

"Yeah," Wilhelm confirms with a small smile, and she turns to leave.

* * * * *

Wilhelm is thankful when the weekend finally arrives, though that feeling doesn't last long. Late into the night of the party, when he's expecting Alexander to come tapping on his window, Wilhelm is instead greeted by someone in a terrifying mask. When he turns to run out of the room, he's greeted by another unrecognizable person, who shoves a sack over his head and pushes Wilhelm to walk.

Wilhelm has never been as terrified in his life as tonight. He genuinely thought he might die. That he'd be held somewhere for ransom. That he wouldn't get to see his brother again, that he'd never see his parents again, or Simon.

Wilhelm hadn't known what hatred was until tonight, but now he does.

He hates the way he has to brush off the humiliation pouring through every corner of his mind. He hates that his skin feels like it's burning, despite being scrubbed so harshly it's gone raw. He hates how there's an echo in his palms at the way he was forced across the ground like a dog, his worth brought to nothing as spectators taunted and threw things at him. He hates that August pretended it was normal. He hates that he himself laughed it off.

Erik warned him that there might be a full initiation but never said it would be that bad. He never said Wilhelm would feel completely broken after, with barely enough energy to pretend he isn't.

But Wilhelm supposes he should have known better. He got comfortable in the weeks that passed, thinking that Erik must have talked August out of it. Hell, he thought he was safe when August came to Wilhelm asking if he had any requests for the party. Wilhelm was a fool for thinking his cousin would be anything but merciful. It's his own fault, really.

Now, Wilhelm sits on the matted couch near the center of the room that he's sure is crawling with all kinds of bugs, August's arm wrapped around his shoulder, going on about some bullshit on how untouchable they are. How they could kill someone, and no one would bat an eye. If Wilhelm didn't feel sick already, he would now. August never fails to shock him in just how fucked up their world is.

August goes on for a while longer, yelling obnoxiously over the music. Wilhelm tunes him out when his eyes land on Simon, who's walking into the room with his sister close beside him. They make eye contact, and Simon looks away quickly. Like he has all week. Wilhelm's stomach sinks. He really shouldn't have expected anything else.

Wilhelm manages an excuse to leave August behind on the couch, cutting him off mid-sentence and starting across the overcrowded room toward Simon, whose back is turned. Of course, this is when Wilhelm's mind begins to blur, alcohol mixing behind his eyes, causing him to wobble a little. When he reaches the table, Wilhelm does the first thing he thinks of, grabs a large bottle of something he's sure he'll regret tomorrow, and takes a swig. Which is precisely when Simon turns around. Wilhelm twists the cap closed with a small smile and puts the drink on the table behind them.

Wilhelm winces as he swallows the thick liquid, "hi," he says, and Simon gives him a strange look that annoyingly sends a rush through Wilhelm. His eyes glance up at Simon's curls, filling him with warmth as he resists the urge to touch them. Not so far gone, due to the booze, that he knows that Simon would probably flinch away from him.

"Hi," Simon responds, with the usual amount of sarcasm laced in his words and maybe a bit of amusement.

"You look nice," Wilhelm says, ignoring the heat that rises in his cheeks, deciding it's not a strange thing to say. They are fake dating, after all. But Simon doesn't say anything, and All Wilhelm can do to fill the silence is nod awkwardly and run his hand through his hair, hating how awkward he is.

"I've gotta go," Simon says, his voice smooth through the loud voices around them.

He begins to turn away, and Wilhelm instinctively grabs his wrists, "wait, wait wait." Wilhelm quickly says, "uhm–" He isn't sure where he planned on going with this, and Simon's awkward Smile that's combined with surprise isn't helping. "Did you wanna sit with me?" Wilhelm asks, hating how unsteady his voice comes.

"Uh," Simon pauses, looking around the room.

Wilhelm's stomach sinks a little, "it'll look good, you know, for the whole thing." Wilhelm tries to convince the boy, despite how hollow it makes his own stomach feel. But, it manages to do the trick because Simon nods, following Wilhelm back to the ratted couch near the center of the room that's been abandoned by August and his friends.

He plops down on the couch, sinking deep into the old cushions. Simon sits beside him, the dip in the sofa forcing them to sit close, their sides pressed firmly together. Wilhelm blames the way his body feels like it’s caught fire on the alcohol, not because he's practically memorized the way Simon feels under his hands, by replaying their kiss on loop in his mind since the day it happened.

Looking for something to break the silence between them, Wilhelm begins, for some godforsaken reason, to sing, "It takes a fool to remain sane, it takes a fool to remain sane, it takes a fool to remain sane," Wilhelm leans back, eyes landing on the roof, he sees Simon smirk in the corner of his eye. "What's the next line?" Wilhelm asks and is pleasantly surprised when Simon sings softly along with him, both trailing off into laughter at their own idiocy.

"What did you think?" Simon asks, glancing over at Wilhelm.

"About what?"

"About my sing–"

"–Well, isn't this sweet," Wilhelm's stomach drops, feeling Simon's body go rigid, echoing Wilhelm's anxiety the moment he hears August's voice.

Wilhelm glances over at Simon, whose lips are pressed tight together, almost white with pressure. Eyes glaring across the room When August moves to plop down on the coffee table in front of them.

"I'm proud of you, Wille," August starts, somehow managing to sound belittling through what should be kind words. "You're really growing up, you know that." He leans forward to clap a hand on Wilhelm's knee. A flinch runs through him, remembering not only hours ago, when that same hand was aiding in binding Wilhelm's wrists, humiliating and belittling him.

"You actually managed to survive initiation," August chuckles sickly, "and now, you're a one-track man apparently," he winks at Simon. Someone calls August's name from across the room, and thankfully his attention is taken off Wilhelm. "I'll be back," August assures, but Wilhelm really wishes he wouldn't.

Once he's gone, Simon nudges Wilhelm's shoulder, "survived initiation?" he asks, voice layered in something Wilhelm doesn't recognize.

"S-nothing," He tries to brush the question off.

"Doesn't seem like nothing," Simon challenges, "you were practically vibrating when he mentioned it," he says pointedly, sitting up to look at Wilhelm properly, who leans on the backrest of the couch, groaning into the air around them.

Wilhelm debates on telling Simon what happened. He doesn't want to make a big deal, but an urge to be honest pulls Wilhelm closer to the truth. Maybe it's because he knows it'll be over in just under six months. That there's an expiry date on his and Simon's relationship. Perhaps that's what makes sharing things with the boy easier, that or the bits of alcohol running through Wilhelm's system.

"It's stupid, really," Wilhelm tries to sound casual, but even he can hear the strain in his voice. "It's just this initiation thing, they broke into my room and tied me up, uhm– threw shit at me… it's not– they do it to everyone." Wilhelm clears his throat, running his fingers tightly through his hair.

Why is he telling Simon any of this? He probably thinks Wilhelm deserves it. That all the 'elite rich boys' deserve to be humiliated and knocked down a peg or two.

"That sounds…" Simon trails off, and Wilhelm braces himself for some sort of dismissive comment. "That sounds terrifying and kind of fucked up." Simon frowns like he's thinking hard on the matter. Wilhelm blinks silently. That's the last thing he expected to hear, but surprisingly Simon continues, "just when I thought August couldn't get any worse," he huffs with irritation.

There's something that creeps in Wilhelm's chest at Simon's reaction. He's not upset for Wilhelm, not pitying or judging, but… protective? No, that can't be right. Wilhelm must be imagining it because there's no way Simon Eriksson would ever be concerned for Wilhelm. He stands for everything Simon is against. He'd probably be happy to see Wilhelm's worth being brought down to nothing but a dog on a leash.

"Are you okay?" Simon asks carefully, twisting on the couch to turn and look at him.

"Mm-fine," Wilhelm shrugs at the question, but it doesn't seem enough to erase Simon's concerns. He's still studying Wilhelm's face carefully like he's waiting for something to happen. Wilhelm just isn't sure what.

They're interrupted once more by a hovering figure that leans forward on the back of the couch. August doesn't acknowledge Simon as he rests his elbows on the backrest, directing his attention to Wilhelm. "So Wille, I was talking to Henry, and apparently Pär is interested," He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, then has the audacity to wink.

Wilhelm shifts uncomfortably, trying to put some distance between himself and his cousin, despite how much he hovers over them. His eyes bounce nervously between Simon and August, entirely at a loss for words. Firstly because Simon is sitting right there, and they're dating, or August is supposed to think they are. Second, because August has never been against Wilhelm's sexuality, aside from an inappropriate comment here and there, but he's never actively tried to help Wilhelm hook up with anyone.

"Uhm…" is all that manages to escape Wilhelm's lips. Because well, if he's honest, less than two weeks ago, Wilhelm probably would have jumped at the opportunity. But now he has Simon, and everything is different. Sure they're not really dating, but that doesn't mean Wilhelm's going to hook up with anyone he's interested in just because he can. Simon is here and his company is much better than any one-night stand could provide. Still, that doesn't make Wilhelm's ability to form sentences any more manageable. If anything, it makes it more difficult, knowing that not only is August waiting for a response, but Simon is too.

"What do you think?" August prompts further, slapping an open palm on Wilhelm's shoulder.

"I uhm–" Wilhelm tries to clear his throat, suddenly feeling restricted. "I'm not uh–"

"He's taken," Simon interjects. Wilhelm's shocked eyes land on Simon, who remains unwavering, having turned his back to lean against the armrest so he can properly glare at August.

August stands tall, turning his attention back to Wilhelm, not bothering to acknowledge Simon's comment. "Look, your little charity project is cute, but I mean, come on Wille?" He says, like he and Wilhelm are in on some sort of secret, "you've got a shot with someone who's actually worth something," he continues, purposefully turning away from Simon, "5,500 hectares of land outside Lund," August emphasizes excitedly.

Simon snorts, which attracts both Wilhelm's and August's attention. He licks his lips and looks challengingly up at August, "5,500 hectares," Simon repeats, seeming unimpressed, "you do realize this entire country is his birthright, right?" He smirks, probably finding satisfaction in the way August's cheeks flood with embarrassment, "even your land is his land," He finishes, glancing back to Wilhelm, who feels like his heart is beating outside his chest.

Simon didn't just say that? Did he?

There's a sour smirk that plasters itself onto August's lips. He's scowling maliciously at Simon. Like he's found his reason to hire someone to hide the boy's body, probably after some unfortunate accident. Wilhelm thinks to August's comment that people like them could murder someone, and no one would say anything. A chill runs through Wilhelm, swallowing nervously as he attempts to ignore the tightness building in his chest.

"Right," is all August says in response, his jaw shifting.

There's a chorus of giggles from across the room, somehow loud enough to break through the blaring music. It's coming from a group of girls surrounding Felice and Simon's sister.

"Well," August pipes, eyes fixing in Sara's direction, "It's becoming clear that the Eriksson's have a way with weaselling into the lives of those more fortunate," he says with a condescending smile, eyes landing back on Simon, "must run in the family."

Wilhelm feels Simon stiffen beside him and watches as anger begins to flare in the tightness of the boy's jaw.

"Tell me," August starts again––Wilhelm really wishes he wouldn't. "What did Mother Eriksson have to do to land the two of you at Hillerska, I wonder?" Wilhelm can see that August knows he's struck a nerve by how his eyes dance excitedly between Simon and Sara. He can sense the anger radiating off Simon as soon as August makes the comment. It's enough to even get Wilhelm's blood boiling, so he can only imagine how Simon feels.

He sees August begin to open his mouth again, but Wilhelm cuts him off before he can start, "What the fuck August," Wilhelm snaps, surprising himself equally as much as August, who jerks back slightly at his outburst. Wilhelm stands from the couch, finding confidence that he didn't know was there, though he's sure it might have something to do with the shots from earlier. But, as soon as he does, he feels Simon's gentle fingers curl around his wrist, pulling Wilhelm's attention away from his cousin.

"He's not worth it," Simon states as he stands from his seat, "I'm going home," he says through his teeth like he's trying everything he can not throw a punch at August right then and there.

August raises a daring brow, tucking his hands in his pockets with a self-satisfied grin. He thinks he's won. "I thought you'd be staying with Wilhelm? Since you're both so clearly committed to each other," he pretends at sincerity, teasing and doubt are laced through his words like the idea is absurd.

Wilhelm glares "yeah, he is," he snaps, stepping closer to Simon's side, tangling their fingers together, and pulling him close. He feels Simon stiffen, then relax into Wilhelm as August glares over the couch. If there's one thing Wilhelm can count on Simon for, it's his desire to piss August off.

August's jaw twitches as he straightens his shoulders, somehow standing taller than before, unable to shake his entitled attitude even after a few drinks. "Well, as it happens, I'm headed back to my room as well. Why don't I walk with you."

Wilhelms stomach drops. Well, that didn't go as planned.

August tells them he'll meet them outside, and Wilhelm considers making a run for it.

"I'm sorry he just– I didn't think he'd… I thought he wouldn't be so bad tonight." Wilhelm tries, feeling slight disappointment when Simon pulls his hand from his grip. Shaking off Wilhelm's touch like it offends him.

"Let's just go before he comes back," Simon mumbles, bumping Wilhelm's shoulder as he passes, headed toward Sara. Wilhelm follows behind, letting Simon lead the way.

"I'm going. I'll be home later." Simon gives her a brief explanation, and when Sara's eyes land on Wilhelm, it seems like she has questions, but she nods anyway. Wilhelm wonders if she knows the truth.

If Simon notices, he doesn't say anything and keeps toward the window they use as an entrance and exit. Wilhelm's eyes dart to find August. He's talking to a group of boys that Wilhelm would rather not converse with. So, Wilhelm hurls himself out the window first, then turns to offer a hand to Simon. He can hear the words on the tip of Simon's tongue, 'You're not my prince charming,' but surprisingly Simon doesn't say it, his hand slips into Wilhelms, and a shiver rushes up his arm.

Simon's fingers feel so delicate clasped in his own. A feeling Wilhelm is starting to like. Which is terrifying.

Simon quickly takes back his hand as he shoves past Wilhelm once again, heading toward the forest, "Simon," Wilhelm calls after the boy, "Simon, where are you going?" Wilhelm shouts.

"Anywhere but here," Simon glares back, marching toward the dark blanket of trees around them.

"It's only eleven-thirty. Don't you want to wait for Sara until you go home?" Wilhelm tries, jogging to fall in step with him. "Why don't you come to mine for a bit until she's ready to leave?" Wilhelm offers, trying to find an even tone and ignore the alarms screaming in his head, telling himself this is a terrible idea. Just the thought of Simon in his bed, after the dream he'd had only a couple mornings ago, is enough to make Wilhelm blush.

Simon stops in his tracks, "what?"

"Well– uh, everyone thinks we're leaving together now anyways," Wilhelm scrambles for an answer. "We might as well make it seem as real as possible." he scratches his nose, looking at the ground, eyes only flicking up to study Simon's once to gauge his reaction.

"Oh," Simon says, almost sounding disappointed.

Strange.

"It just makes sense," Wilhelm quietly adds, hoping it'll be enough to make up the boy's mind.

"Okay," Simon agrees after a painful moment of silence.

Well, that's not what Wilhelm had expected to hear, so when he does, several complicated things are running through his mind. Like what they'll do, what they'll talk about? Does this mean anything? No, of course, it doesn't. But what if it does?

Simon follows Wilhelm through the forest, the silence of the trees filling the air between them. When they reach the boarding house, Wilhelm knocks on the window, Alex rushing over to open it for them. His eyes hesitantly land on Simon, but thankfully he doesn't say anything.

Wilhelm thanks Alexander before climbing through the window and turning back to Simon, extending his hand.

"–you're not my prince charming."

"–you're not my prince charming. Yeah yeah, I know," Wilhelm teases over the boy's words. He notices a shy smirk wash on Simon's lips as he places his hand in Wilhelm's, pretending it's the hardest thing he's ever had to do, which Wilhelm desperately hopes it isn't. Because for him, it's becoming an increasingly easier habit to fall into.

Wilhelm gestures for Simon to follow him down the hall; he creaks the door open, slipping inside his room with Simon close behind. There's a hint of embarrassment that washes over him. Wishing he'd taken a little time to clean the place. It's not messy per se, but dirty laundry is scattered across the floor, and homework is spattered across his desk.

Wilhelm reaches above his bed to turn the red lights on to keep the boys safe from the harsh fluorescent one hanging from his roof. Wilhelm watches Simon's eyes scan the small room, not that there's much to look at. Another thing Wilhelm finds himself oddly embarrassed about. Most of the boys have posters or pictures pinned to their walls, showing off their lives and the things they've accomplished. Wilhelm has nothing, though he supposes he'd need to actually accomplish something for that to happen.

Simon folds his arms across his chest and leans against the wardrobe. Smirking at Wilhelm, who has taken a seat in the far corner of the bed, leaving Simon a respectable amount of room to sit next to him, if he feels like it. "It's small."

"What were you expecting?" Wilhelm says in response.

"At least a two-story wing dedicated to all your hopes and dreams," Simon jokes, moving to sit down on the bed. Wilhelm's bed. He tries not to freak out at the way Simon leans into the corner, so casually, like he belongs.

"Well, it wouldn't be that big a wing then." Wilhelm makes the small joke, though he didn't mean for Simon to hear it. With the way Simon tilts his head with a frown, he's not sure he succeeded.

Wilhelm looks to change the subject, unfortunately defaulting to the one thing he should probably avoid. "I'm sorry about what August said. He can really be a dick sometimes." Wilhelm chews his nail, watching as Simon nods slowly, pressing his lips together like he doesn't want to say anything on the matter.

Simon's phone vibrates in his pocket, and he frowns down at the screen when he pulls it out.

"What is it?" Wilhelm asks.

"Sara's staying with Felice tonight," he explains, tucking his phone away and shuffling to the edge of the bed. "I guess I can go then... since I don't have to wait for her anymore."

"No!" The word is out before Wilhelm can take it back. It had only been his instinctual reaction to the boy leaving, an immediate prickle forming within him at the thought. "Don't go," Wilhelm tries to continue a little more calmly, but it doesn't sound much better. "I uh– it's late, so maybe– I mean, everyone thinks you're staying overnight anyways so uh–" Wilhelm can feel heat rising to his cheeks, and he wants nothing more than to hide his face in his pillow with the confused way Simon is looking at him. "You can stay here. If you want to." Wilhelm finally says, avoiding looking in Simon's direction, eventually giving in, only to find him smirking.

"How much did you drink?" Simon laughs, not in a way that makes Wilhelm feel self-conscious, but like he's laughing with him.

"Shut up," Wilhelm rolls his eyes, "I'm practically sober now."

"That's not true," Simon calls him out, but Wilhelm can still see the smirk hiding in the corner of the boy's mouth. He wants to kiss it. Okay, so maybe Wilhelm is still a little drunk.

"I promise I won't try anything," Wilhelm assures, clearing his throat, trying not to fluster himself.

Simon thinks for a moment, studying Wilhelm, then, "okay," he decides.

Wilhelm's mind goes blank. He didn't expect that. "Okay," he swallows, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "I'll uh… I'll sleep on the floor," Wilhelm offers, moving to stand, but Simon stops him before he can.

"Don't be an idiot. I think we can handle sleeping in the same bed." Simon snorts.

Wilhelm's not sure if he imagines it, but he swears he hears the boy's voice waver slightly.

"Oh… okay," Wilhelm says, cheeks definitely going crimson.

"If that's okay with you," Simon adds quickly, "if you're uncomfortable with that I can–"

"–Not it's fine!" Wilhelm cuts Simon off, once again with probably too much enthusiasm. Thankfully, Simon doesn't say anything. "So I'll just uhm," Wilhelm shifts from where he sits, sliding down, so his back is against the wall, head resting on the pillow that he and Simon will have to share.

Simon licks his lips again, something Wilhelm has noticed he does a lot, and moves into the bed, laying in front of Wilhelm, far enough away that their bodies don't touch. The small size of Wilhelm's mattress becomes very apparent as the two boys lay, one nearly falling off and the other tucked so far back into the wall he's almost certain he'll sink into it. It isn't until Simon nearly tumbles off the side that Wilhelm determines they're being ridiculous.

"Simon, you're going to fall off the bed. You can shuffle back more." Wilhelm suggests, pressing his eyes closed and breathing as evenly as possible. Praying it'll take his nerves away. Simon sighs and shuffles back. They both stiffen when Simon's body goes flush against Wilhelm's. Lighting a fire similar to the day they kissed under Wilhelm's skin.

"Can I just–" Wilhelm shifts his arm under the pillow, and when he does, their bodies fully shape each other. From Wilhelm's chest pressed against Simon's back, to their feet nearly entwined. The boy's curly hair tickles the tip of Wilhelm's nose. The dark swirls smell perfectly of coconut, just like Wilhelm remembers. He closes his eyes, breathing the boy in, loving how close they are, and hating it all at once.

Wilhelm isn't an idiot. Obviously, he knows he wants Simon, which isn't particularly shocking considering he knows what Simon kisses like. What terrifies Wilhelm is that he doesn't just want Simon. Sure he'd love more than anything to roll the boy over, pin him to the mattress, and have his way with him, given consent of course. But he also wants to tangle his arms around the boy's waist, bury his nose into the crook of his neck, to hold him, and protect him from all the terrible things August could possibly say.

"Wille?"

Simon's use of Wilhelm's name shocks him out of his thoughts. It sends a confused wave through Wilhelm that he wouldn't know where to begin in understanding. All he knows is that there's a shiver that races through him as the word shapes Simon's lips. "Wille, are you okay," the boy asks, his voice a whisper in the quiet of the room.

Wilhelm clears his throat, "yeah, why?"

"It's just… you're breathing, it sounds like– never mind." Simon stops.

Wilhelm wonders what the boy was going to say. If he's somehow caught onto the spiral of Wilhelm's mind that was spinning webs of anxiety through him. "I'm fine, Simon," Wilhelm assures, "you don't have to pretend to worry about me," he tries to joke, "remember, fake dating." For some reason his words fall harsh in the dark room.

Simon clears his throat and shifts, putting a small distance between their bodies, enough that they can still lay comfortably, but it leaves a noticeable divide between them. "Goodnight, Prince Wilhelm," Simon says coldly.

Wilhelm curses himself, feeling like any progress they made tonight has been completely ruined, but he doesn't say anything back. Instead, Wilhelm lets the room fall back into silence. He ignores the tension in the air that blankets them as they lay barely curled into each other.

Somehow though, sleep takes them both.

[thecolordemon]

NSFW with wolf Luci, based on paws and claws event! Pretty pleeeeaase??

Request: NSFW shortstory with wolf Lucifer, based on the paws and claws event!🐺🔞

You were the centre of the whole attention. Every single one of the demon brothers wanted to spend time with you, the primal insitincts kicking in harshly. At first it was pretty fun. But now: hours later and with the night approaching like a dark horse, it was just nerve-racking. Mammon was constantly fighting with Satan and Levi was still upset that he was the only herbivore of the group. Asmodeus wouldn't stop taking pictures with you because he wanted fo show the world how cute you both looked. Beelzebub went on a new search for more food and Belphegor...well he was trying to conivince you to take a nap on his new fluffy foxtail. You were just going to say something but in that second Lucifer stepped in. "Enough!" His wolfish ears twitched and his long grey tail brushed over your cheek. "Can't you all see that MC is getting tired of all your constant babbling and chaotic nature? It's enough now!"

Your fingers brushed over the spot where Lucifer's tail touched it. It felt stangely warm... But before you were able to examine this further, Lucifer pulled you up to your feet. "We'll get you to safety! No more brawling and fighting! It's time for you to get some proper rest." And with this words he dragged you out of the living room.

Lucifer pushed you softly inside his room and the loud noises from the others died down immediately. It was dark and the room smelled like fresh oak, earl grey tea and a hint of nostalgia. "I knew this would end in a disaster but now they're just exaggerating." The avatar of pride huffed and flexed his shoulders. "Aren't you effected too?", you asked softly and sat down on the bed. You had noticed that he was quiet touchy through the whole day ever since he was influenced with the strange potion. "I've got enough pride and self control to keep up my good reputation." You didn't notice that he had started to circle you slowly because the darkness swallowed his tall frame. "But I have to admit.-" Suddenly his dark, velvet voice was very close to your ear. "-that I'm kind of tired of pulling myself together. Especially when my 'beloved' brothers are not around..." The last word wasn't much more as a heavy hum. Unexpectedly you felt something rough and wet pressed against the crook of your neck. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest when Lucifers tongue travled upwards and left hot saliva on your sensitive skin. He could feel your heart pumping your blood rapidly through your body when the tip of his tongue traced over your carotid artery. A shaky moan left your lips. That was one of your special spots...

Lucifer chuckled deeply and his sharp teeth bit down softly. Your thin skin was nearly tearing and he could taste your rapid heartbeat. "Someones rather excited, aren't we?" He laughed and nibbled at your earlobe. His hot breath made you quiver in anticipation and you could do nothing else but to press your thighs together to gain a little friction. "Lucifer-"

"Yes, MC?" You could feel him smirk against your neck. "W-what are you doing to me?" The demon laughed and it sounded like distant thunder rolling over a sharp-edged mountain. "I'll show you the art of mating, MC..." Your breath hitched in your throat while your heartbeat thumbed louder. Clearly you misunterstood him-there was now way-

But all your dubts got swept away when his claws wandered over your thighs. You got ghoose bumps and shivered. Lucifer kneeled down between your legs and sniffed slightly. The rim of your skirt shielded your underwear from his predatory eyes but you couldn't help but notice the growing wet patch on the soft fabric. "You know-ever since I turned into some kind of wolf- some of my senses seem way more sharper now." He grinned diabolicaly and ripped your skirt of in a swift motion. "I can hear your quickend heartbeat, I sense your arousal and feelings even better...but I can also smell that your more than ready for me to claim you as mine." He pushed your legs apart and his crimson red glowing eyes focused on the damp growing spot on your panties.

The blood rushed on your cheeks and made you blush like hell. Lucifer snickered and rubbed the tip of his nose against your clothed clit. You bit your lip at the sensual friction and had to hold back a moan. "Don't fight it, MC. You smell delicious...give in..."

That's when his rough tongue swipes over the thin fabric of your panties. The material is soaked within seconds by your sticky juices and his warm saliva. His hot breath tickled your skin and you could feel the heat that radiated of his muscular strong body. Lucifer grabed the rim of your panties and riped them in a half. "You won't need them anymore-"

Without hestiation his rough tongue swiped heavily over your exposed sex, leaving sticky stripes of saliva all over you sensitive nerves. The normally very patient demon wasted no time and moved his tongue skillfully and full of hunger. His hands grabbed your trembling legs and held them in place. He didn't want to waste a single drop of your delicious liquids. It was insane how his magnificent mouth toyed with you in all the right ways. When his tongue entered you, you already were a squirming mess. "Lucifer please--I can't anymore--"

You lost it again when his tongue twirled and twisted perfectly inside you and reached all the sensitive spots. Your muscles started twitching and pulled together in excitement, you could feel your orgasm building faster. But that was the same moment when Lucifer parted his lips from your sex with a slurping sound. His whole mouth was covered in your juices and he still had the audacity to grin at you like a wolf at its prey.

You wailed desperately. "I need it-" The avatar of pride beamed with self confidence and got up on his feet. "Beg. Beg like you really mean it, MC." He whiped the stray strands of his black hair out of his face and massaged his throbbing erection through the wrinkled fabric of his pants. He really wanted to feel your thight walls clenched around him and experience the feeling of pumping his thick length in and out in a steady rythm. Just the mere thought of it drove him wild and without hestiation he opend his belt-followed by the zipper and button of his pants.

It nearly took your breath away when you first laid eyes on his twitching dick. The tip was swollen and red and already leaked with some glistening precum. It didn't take him long to push the tip against your wet folds and rub it up and down which caused him to moan up. The sound send shivers down your spine and you could feel the knot inside your lower body thightening. "Please-" you whimpered. "Please fuck me already, Lucifer I need you-"

The powerful demon growled darkly and did not hestiate to follow this plea of yours. He pushed your legs more apart before he slowly started to enter his thick length inside of you. First it was just the swollen tip but it was soon followed by the rest of his pulsing cock. You threw your head back and Lucifer moaned in pleasure. He started thrusting deep inside you right away and as he angled himself it made you see stars. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled Lucifer's dim room, mixed with his heavy breathing and your constant mewling.

He was towering above you like a skyscraper, his thrusts making you sing a lewd melody. Your interaction echoed through the hallway and his low pants next to your ear nearly send you over the edge. The tip of his member swept over your G-spot repeatingly and this made your walls quiver in excitement. Lucifers claws were digging into the soft flesh of your hips and it would surely leave a bruise. You could feel his bumps getting erractic and faster which announced that he was just as close as you. Your name left his lips like a sinful prayer over and over again.

"MC-"

"Lucifer--"

Then it wrecked both of you. He bit down into the crook of your neck and his sharp teeth drawed a little bit of blood, while his cock released long spurts of thick, white cum inside your womb. You couldn't stop yourself from screaming his name when your walls clenched around his member and milked every single drop of cum from him.

While relaxing in the warm hug of your afterglow you could feel him peppering soft kisses all over your neck and throat. He gently licked over the biting mark. "You did so well, little one...", he whispered, a low rumble emerging from his chest.

(I hope you guys like it😅❤)

[mymelodyheart]

All I Want For Christmas Is You Chapter 2 ~It’s Her Cue~

Previously in Sparks Will Fly ...

A slap on his back tore his gaze away from Claire. "Easy now lad," Willie said in a low, amused voice. "Ye look like ye could use the same drink as her."

Jamie glanced back at the subject of their conversation. "Aye, but make mine a double," he whispered.

"On it," Willie replied, laughing as he walked off.

What the bloody hell?  He should be withdrawing himself away from this attraction because this mad instant bond between them was like an overloaded electrical fuse, capable of incinerating him alive. He'd already learnt his lesson from his last relationship. He'd been there and done that, but yet he didn't have the will to stop himself from finding out how their connection would play out.

Oh, Christ, this is bad. So, so bad, I'm in so much big trouble.  Taking a huge sigh, he found himself a stool nearest to the pool table and watched Claire steal the show from the best snooker player in Broch Mordha.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

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"Just polishing my balls for the lovely lass, here." 

The people around her howled with good-natured laughter.

Claire kept her head down as she sat on the edge of the stool, chalking her stick, waiting for Hugh to stop showing off and blathering with his mates, and to finally break. She felt eyes on her, and when she looked up, she met Jamie's gaze where he sat with his brother at the high table. 

Annalise leaned in from behind her and whispered, "Ginger can't stop looking at you."

Claire drew in substantial deep breaths. She'd watched Jamie play shinty earlier, and she thought he looked impressive then. Tall, strong, lithe, covered in mud and the epitome of a Highland warrior. Not that she had any idea what a Highland warrior would have looked like. After all, she only had the movie, Braveheart to go by. But who would have thought he'd show any interest in her. Perhaps, because she'd probably looked like she was about to climb him. Who could blame her, though? The moment he'd looked into her eyes, he stirred something inside her, which no man had ever done before him. And by some feat of willpower, she wondered how she'd succeeded not breaking into song right then and there. Up close earlier and now, sat only a few feet away, Jamie looked even better. Wavy auburn hair touched the collar of his plaid flannel shirt and the way his jeans hung low on hips, it shouldn't be even allowed. 

"He probably thinks I'm easy. You know how some rural folks think city people like us have loose morals."

Annalise gasped. "Why do you think he would think that?"

"I think I came on too strong and flirty," she confided in a low voice. "He's a man, so of course, he'd respond, and it probably works a treat for him too since I'm only here for a holiday. But my God, he's one fine specimen of a man, isn't he? I'm even getting butterflies, and the last time I had them ...goodness, I can't even remember." 

"Don't be daft ...you don't even know what he's thinking. Besides, you're single, and you're allowed to show interest if you fancy someone." The ice in Annalise's vodka and tonic clinked behind her. "This is the twenty-first century, and you're welcome to it. Flirt away and get butterflies. Let yourself go a little. I don't know if it applies here, but I'll say it anyway ...what goes on in the Highlands, stay in the Highlands." 

Aww, bless her.

Claire was grateful for her friend's presence in her life. If Annalise hadn't been there to constantly coax her out of her self-consciousness and to confide in to, she'd probably still be living a secluded life, and London would have eventually eaten her whole. Now here she was, openly flirting with a handsome stranger and she'd agreed to let him take her out.

Claire smiled. "How about you? What's happening with you and Willie?"

Annalise made an exaggerated sighing sound behind her, making her laugh. What a tart! 

"Hey, by the way, Jamie asked me out. So I guess, after this game and a round of drink, we're going to split. He wants to take me on a Christmas night tour. Will you be alright with Willie?" Claire asked. She had to make sure as this was their holiday together and she didn't want Annalise feeling abandoned.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. The boys seem like decent blokes, but as a precaution, I took photos of their driving licences and sent them to Geillis. She'll have them thoroughly checked out. Really handy to know someone whose boyfriend works with the police."

Claire's eyes widened, and she turned around to face her friend. "You didn't! I told Jamie I trust him." Geillis Duncan was their mutual friend they'd met in London at a party. After hitting it off, they'd forged a tight friendship, and the three of them became close until Geillis had to move back to her home city of Glasgow when she met the love of her life. Claire and Annalise were going to visit her before flying back to London.

"Of course, I did, silly. We're both on our own. Just because we're on our holidays and having fun doesn't mean we have to be lax when it comes to precaution. Don't worry, it'll be fine." Annalise reassuringly squeezed her arm. "Speaking of protection ...do you have condoms?"

What!?!  Sex was the furthest thing from her mind. But she didn't have time to reply as she saw at the corner of her eye, Hugh finally, leaned across the pool table and broke. As Claire stood up to take her turn, their audience cheered and whooped. 

Ignoring the hoots and whistles, she watched in concentration as the colourful balls rolled, not one of them dropping into a pocket. She began to walk around the pool table, taking in each position of the balls as she tapped her chin. Alrighty Beauchamp, let's have a look, shall we? This should be easy-peasy, lemon squeezy. We'll go for stripes. 

"Ye ken how to play, hen?" Hugh teased, extracting laughter from his friends. "If not, I promise to go easy with my shaft." Another round of loud laughter ensued.

Claire ignored the innuendo, and the sally going on and focused.

First, I'll down that nine-ball hanging over the pocket and use the rail to tap out the eleven, crammed against the twelve. That'll leave open the six, thirteen, and fifteen. Once I drop the fifteen, using a little side spin, that should bring me to the other end of the table. Then I'll sink the eleven and the fourteen into the same corner pocket, gently hitting the ten off the rail in the process, so I don't get stuck later having to bank shot it. Knock in the eight, then I'm clear to finish it off. Good God, Beauchamp, you're so good.

Satisfied with her strategy, Claire leaned over the green felt and positioned herself. Although Hugh's loud wisecrack didn't rattle her, the intensity of Jamie's stare was another matter. Taking a deep breath, she redirected her concentration on her game plan and took her first shot and then another, working clinically and accurately. Unfortunately, their encounter earlier kept creeping back into her consciousness and playing in loops in her head. It didn't help that his scent stuck on to her when he'd caught her after the fall. He smelled of forest and fresh laundry. None of that heavy musky expensive perfumes London yuppies liked to bathe in. It made her want to lean in, bury her face in the crook of his neck and take a deep breath.

Bent at the waist, Claire stretched over the edge of the table and focused on the fifteen-ball and tried not to wince at the memory of openly flirting with Jamie. In her defence, it wasn't every day she was rescued by a very manly bloke who stared at her like he didn't want to let her out of his sight. She wondered if she'd appeared too eager and was totally misunderstanding the look he was giving her. There had been a hint of wariness lurking behind those beautiful translucent blue eyes when she'd agreed to go out with him. Had she said something to cause him to throw up his guard?  

Having gone to a Catholic, all-girls, boarding school, her experience with the opposite sex was limited to the ones she read in romance novels. Orphaned at a young age, her guardian uncle Lamb didn't believe, dragging her across the globe with him was an ideal way to raise a girl, especially when he worked mostly with men in archaeological sites. So he'd decided the best place for her upbringing was with the nuns, right through college.

So when it finally came for her to start adulting and dating in a big, bad city like London, she'd been like a deer caught in the headlights. But she quickly found her feet with the help of her friend and flatmate, Annalise, a Parisienne by birth and a Londoner at heart. The French girl had been a mentor to her, initiating her to the trappings of singlehood and city life. Though the dating and getting-to-know-a-guy part was also an exciting discovery, she quickly realised every date she'd been to, after having gone through a handful of them, was a recycled version of the last. Same lines, same latest fashion, exaggerated backstories and trying too hard to impress instead of being themselves. So at the ripe age of twenty-five, she still had to experience what it was like to have a boyfriend. Annalise accused her of being too picky, but Claire always reasoned she just hadn't met the right one. She'd envisioned her first boyfriend to be someone endearingly awkward, not too loud and maybe a little shy. But Jamie was the least awkward man she'd ever met. He was easy on the eyes, and he lived inside his skin like a well-worn pair of jeans. He was far from a starter boyfriend she'd envision - definitely, not a boy anything.

"Go, Claire! You can do it!" Annalise shouted at the sidelines.

As she marked her shot on the eight-ball, she glanced up at Jamie and felt her focus wobble a bit. When one of the lads emitted a low whistle as she moved her hips to settle herself at a conducive angle, he didn't have a smidgen of amusement on his face. More than anything, he looked liked he was about to knock the front teeth off of the offender.

She didn't want a pub brawl to start in her honour, even if it sounded romantic in movies or books.

Straightening up from her position, she gave Jamie what she thought was a sexy smile. "Hey, Jamie," she called to him. "You got that single malt ready for me? This shouldn't take long." She tried not to blanch for sounding overconfident and cocky. It seemed cheeky for presuming she'd finished this game in a jiffy, but the pleasure of seeing his piercing blue eyes creased at the corners was definitely worth the minor discomfort her behaviour had caused her. Oh, Lordy! There were hushed oohs, followed by a round of testosterone-laced jests, making Jamie shake his head in amusement. At least, to her relief, he stopped looking like he's about to wallop anyone. Trouble averted in the knick of time!

As Jamie turned to get the attention of the bartender, she quickly lowered herself back over the table in the same position and sunk in the remaining balls. When she finished, her opponent, Hugh looked, well …not the least bit pleased about it. It probably didn't help she'd earlier acted cocksure about winning the game and might have dented his macho ego in front of his mates. 

Claire watched Hugh purposely marched towards her as their audience clapped, cheered and teased him for losing to a lassie.

"Ye got me at a disadvantage. I must admit I went easy on you since ye're new around here," he said loud enough for everyone near the pool table to hear. 

Claire gave him a charming smile, even though she felt like throttling him for not being man enough to congratulate her. "I know. Too bad, you assumed I couldn't play because I have a pair of boobs."

Hugh's eyes dropped down to her breast, and his cheek twitched, as he openly leered at her. "I must admit, ye have a lovely pair, and it might have distracted me from playing a good game, now that I come to think about it. Ye ken what ye need? Ye need a good ..."

"Stiff drink?" Jamie interrupted as he handed Claire a glass of single malt. "That's what ye were about to say, aye?"

Jamie's words were mildly pleasant, but she detected the underlying warning in his tone. Hugh didn't look like one to back-off, but when Jamie took a small step forward, he eyed the height and breadth before him and thought better of it. Splitting a forced smile between her and Jamie, Hugh raised both his hands as a sign of truce and slowly walked back to his mates.

With a sigh, she placed her cue stick on the pool table and faced Jamie. "This is fast becoming a habit of yours, isn't it?"

"What?" he asked, taking a step inside her personal space. It was another one of his moves to add to that growing habit list of his. Her old fashion side, the side influenced by her upbringing in the boarding school, wanted her to take a step back. But the side, that suspiciously sounded like Annalise, was shouting at her to hold her ground.

So she held her ground and arched an eyebrow at him. "You coming to my rescue. Again!"

When his mouth expanded into a smile, she couldn't help noticing his full, beautiful lips. With a cleanly shaven angular jaw, they made him looked like an angel who'd spent time in hell. Her breath caught in her throat, and she quickly looked back up, hoping he hadn't noticed her wandering eyes.

His amused expression told her he had. "Ye could say, rescuing ye is one past time that's beginning to grow on me." 

She laughed out loud. It was something she did whenever she was nervous or when shyness overtook, and the most annoying part of it, it was almost always accompanied by a snort. She quickly sobered up. Acting like a loon was definitely beginning to be her nervous signature move.

As if sensing her unease, Jamie quickly changed the subject. "By the way, that was some show ye put on. Ye'll be the topic of everyone's conversation for the next few days. And Hugh the butt of jokes."

"I didn't realise I was playing with a sore loser," she said, taking a sip of her whisky. When the heat slid down her throat, she tried not to flinch. Acting cool wasn't her forte, but she was determined to work on it. "If I'd known, I would have given up my slot."

"Dinnae fash. Hugh's all mouth and no trousers, but he's harmless. So where did ye learn to play like that?" His eyes scanned her face, and he cocked his head a little like he was committing each of her features to memory.

"My uncle taught me. We'd play for hours whenever we get time to spend together."

"Ye're close to yer uncle. That's nice. I hope I'd be that type of uncle one day."

She beamed. Jamie looked like the type of uncle who would have boundless of energy playing with children. "My uncle's for the most part, both a father and mother to me when I wasn't in the boarding school. My parents died when I was young."

His face turned serious. "Sorry to hear that. My parents have always been part of my life, so I can't begin to imagine what it was like for you growing up without them."

Claire gave him a grateful smile as she pulled a vibrating phone from her pocket. "Oh, bummer," she whispered, glancing down at the screen. "I have about fifteen missed text messages. I didn't feel it going off. I must have been caught up with all the excitement of the game." 

He ran a hand along his jaw. "Some lad missing ye back home?"

She hesitated, glancing up at him. "No." She shook her head, vigorously. "It's my friend, Geillis." She skimmed through the messages wondering why there were so many of them. Annalise had sent the photos of the brothers' driving licences to Geillis, and probably something had come up.

"Is everything alright?" he asked as she continued to read the messages.

"It's fine," she squeaked, looking for any incriminating data Geillis might have found. She found none. Instead, what she was reading was making her face heat up.

"Are ye sure? Ye have a troubling frown forming on yer face. Maybe I can help."

She sighed and rolled her head. "Annalise sent the photos of your driving licences to my friend Geillis. And a selfie she took with you and your brother earlier. You know ...to have you check out and see if you're legit. Geillis' boyfriend works with the police you see."

He arched an eyebrow. "And?"

Is he upset? "Don't look at me like that. I told you I trust you."

He laughed. "Like what? Ye're the one who's giving me an odd look. I told ye I was alright with it. So what did she say? Do I get her seal of approval?"

She winced. "Yeah, Geillis says it's all good."

He picked up his whisky from the nearby table. "Geillis sounds like a verra nice friend. I think I like her already. What else did she say?"

She felt the colour drain from her face. "I swear you wouldn't want to hear the rest of it. Geillis is raving mad."

"Try me."

"I think we should leave it ..."

"Come on, Sassenach. It cannae be that bad."

"I'd rather not."

"Go on, humour me." His blue eyes danced, and she marvelled for the umpteenth time at how handsome he was.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you." She shut her eyes for a few heartbeats and puffed out a breath. "Well, she said if you're the same bloke who competed against her boyfriend at caber toss last spring and won ..." Oh dear, God. "...I ...um ...I should let you ground my corn."

He practically choked on his whisky.

She grimaced and wondered if she should thump him on the back. "I'm sorry. Geillis has an odd sense of humour. I'm afraid it's just her way of saying that her boyfriend thinks you're ace ...well, that's if you're really the bloke who he thinks you are."

He recovered quickly and grinned. "How about ye? What do ye think of me?"

She ignored the question. "You haven't confirmed anything to me yet," she said, speaking into her whisky glass. "Did you really win the caber toss competition?"

He looked smugly amused, and the smile that spread across his face already answered her question.

"So you're a tree surgeon who plays shinty and tosses poles in your spare time ...whatever next."

He nodded at her phone when it lit up again. "What else is your friend saying?"

She put her drink down and glanced at the screen. "'She said, the men who participated in this year's caber toss, including you, posed with nothing on but their kilt for a charity calendar."

He smiled. "Aye, that's right."

"And she asked me to ask you if you're wearing anything underneath the kilt because I'm getting the calendar as a stocking filler."

His booming laughter made a few heads turn their way.

"See I told you, she's raving mad." She took another sip from her glass and realised it was empty. Ah, fiddlesticks! "I thought her boyfriend would have mellowed her down a bit, but I have a feeling, she's worse than ever."

He eyed her glass and grinned. "I definitely have to meet this friend of yours."

She felt a twinge of ache in her heart, which took her by surprise. "Annalise and I are stopping at her place in Glasgow before we fly back to London on Three Kings. So you won't be seeing her."

He leaned in closer. "I ken we've only just met. Ye think ye're going to miss me when you go back?" His eyes twinkled mischievously.

Even though she was a right bumbling mess around him, she had to admit she was having too much fun in his company. So much so, she didn't really want to think about leaving yet. Her mind was already racing and wondering if Annalise would agree to celebrate Hogmanay here instead of in Edinburgh. "Well, that depends ..."

"Depends on what?"

Her curiosity to explore the dynamic between them made it difficult to keep her guard up. It was useless trying to fight whatever this was when she was so drawn to Jamie. Surely he must be feeling this too. She swallowed hard and decided to be brave. "If I'll have a reason to miss you," she blurted out before she could change her mind. 

A tiny fraction of the playfulness displayed on his face was replaced by uncertainty ...and Claire's stomach coiled at the proof he wasn't prepared to act on the attraction between them. Whatever his reason was, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know as her guard began to scramble back into place. Oh, God, how could I be so dim? Maybe he's got a girlfriend or a wife ...

"Arbroath Smokies."

Stunned, she looked at him. "Wot?"

"Have ye eaten?"

"Uh, um ...not since midday."

"Weel, hard to fall in love with ..." He took a huge deep breath. "...Broch Mordha on an empty stomach."

"Huh?"

That playful smile was back on his face. "Have ye tried Arbroath Smokies?"

"No. I don't even know what that is."

"Ye have to try it. I know just the place." Jamie glanced over his shoulder. "Come on, let's have a quick drink with Willie and Annalise so we can get out of here." 

And then just like that, he wove his fingers through hers and tugged her towards the bar.

[misc-headcanons]

I like that even when trying to help steer Touya off of the path of becoming a Hero, Endeavor shows that he really was obsessed and had blinders on when it came to his own ambition. He's been training Touya for years to be a Hero, instilling that dream and inspiring Touya to want that as well (he was so fucking excited to train with his dad, likely because at the time, HE was the favored son and got the most attention from Endeavor). Of COURSE Touya, a little kid, is going to be upset when his dad suddenly goes "You can't be a Hero, stop using your Quirk and do something else besides the one thing I've been training you for and encouraged you to want to be."

I think that Endeavor really did want to encourage Touya to find another path, to go to school like his siblings and play with friends and all that, but it was a mix of reasons. He wanted his son to find happiness after realizing he can't be the successor he wanted. It's fucked up and he really didn't think through how that would fuck up his child(ren), though. You can't spend years forming a relationship with your kid, training all the time, constantly instilling and fostering that dream of becoming a Hero...and then tell that child "Sorry son, you can't be the Hero/successor I wanted and trained you to be because that power you're born with isn't good enough."

Kids aren't "good enough" or "bad" or "good". They're fucking kids. Endeavor ignorantly shattered his son's life purpose at the ripe age of 8-9 and the fact that he and Rei only realized this was a bit of a fuckup when Touya lashed out so extremely is really sad. I appreciate Hori going down this storyline and showcasing how complex and fucked an unhealthy and toxic family situation can be from multiple angles. And I REALLY appreciate Rei saying "[Enji] You aren't the one in the most pain over this, and you aren't the only one that looked away from Touya." She was very clearly in a difficult position as Touya's mom and Enji's wife, and I'm just really interested whenever Rei appears in the story.

I've repeatedly said I want Endeavor and the Todoroki family to be "Bojacked" by Hori, where he can really go all-out and explore topics like abuse and recovery, toxic family dynamics realistically, and how it's typically much more complex than "one person bad, everyone else good". It's really rare to see that in a shonen manga.

[mamabearcatfanfics]

Looks like this is going to be three parts instead of two. But what else is new? Read Sweet on AO3, or continue on below! The story will be complete in the last part, Spicy.

Kagome kept her head down as Inuyasha charged through the trees, trying to maintain her balance by squeezing her thighs against his hips as he charged down a steep wooded slope. She tucked her head in behind his shoulder. Now that she knew that a bath was on the horizon, his concentrated smell was easier to tolerate, and even though she had no fear that he would drop her, she didn’t really fancy getting a slap to the face with a random tree branch.

Peeking over the top of his shoulder, she could see the steam rising from the hot spring up ahead, the afternoon sun at just the right angle to make it seem like it was shimmering gold. But why wasn’t he slowing down? If he kept running at this speed they were totally going to-

“Inuyaaashaaaaaa!” she squealed, bracing herself for their impact with the water.

He skidded to a stop just before the edge of the spring, and she slapped him hard on the shoulder as he sniggered at her reaction.

“Was that really necessary?” she grumbled, sliding down off his back.

“Nope. It was fun though. Right up until the moment you tried to deafen me – I coulda done without that”, he teased, sticking one clawed finger in his ear and wiggling it about to imply she’d damaged his hearing. He plonked himself down next to the hot spring on a flat rock, sitting like an eager puppy, hands placed directly on the ground between his feet. “So, how are we gonna do this?”

Kagome shrugged off her backpack and pulled out her soaps and small bottle of washing detergent. She had two different soaps – one was a body wash that smelt like cherry blossoms, and the other one was a honey and oatmeal goats milk soap that she used on her face.

“First, I want you to smell these and see which one is easiest on your nose”, she said.

He sniffed each of them in turn, pushing the detergent far away from him after a tiny whiff, coughing a little at the strong scent, and wrinkling his nose a little at the cherry blossom one. The goats milk one he sniffed twice.

“That one’s not too bad.”

She smiled at him, feeling pleased. Even though the goats milk soap was a little more expensive, if that was the one he could stand the easiest, she’d happily give the others up. Maybe she could find out what the village women used to do their laundry at the river.

“Okay, that’s the one we’ll use then.”

“For washing the clothes?”                                                          

“For… for all the washing”, she said. Now that they were here, she was feeling a little nervous. About what exactly, she wasn’t sure. Maybe because, whatever happened here would change her relationship with Inuyasha forever. He blinked at her.

“You okay?”, he asked, his voice shifting from eager to a little unsure.

“Inuyasha, are you sure this is what you want?” She knelt down in front of him, fidgeting anxiously trying to look into his eyes to work out what he was feeling. “I want to do this with you, want to be close to you, but if you don’t want this, I’m happy to let you bathe by yourself and I’ll wait.”

His hands reached out to her, grasping her fingers firmly.

“Kagome. This is about the one thing I’m absolutely sure of. I’m sure about you.” She sighed, unable to keep the beaming smile from breaking across her face.

“I’m sure about you too”, she grinned. Standing up, she kicked off her loafers and peeled off her socks, then stepped slowly into the hot spring, fully dressed. She looked over her shoulder at him. “Inuyasha? Are you coming in?

Her eyes widened as he undid the cords that kept his suikan closed, shrugging it off his shoulders, then balanced on each foot to loosen the ties that kept the billowing legs of his hakama gathered around his ankles.

“No point washin’ these unless they’ve got blood and dirt on ‘em, and they don’t at the moment”, he explained.

When he reached for the tie at his waist, Kagome turned her back and waded a little further out into the hot spring, to where there were a few flattened rocks protruding from the water. She would not stand and ogle at him. She wasn’t Miroku! But still… she peeked over her shoulder, just in time to see a flash of toned powerfully built thighs as he dropped his hakama and kicked them aside.

Oh! She hardly ever got to see his legs, and they were so defined and muscular, the skin there as tan as the rest of him, despite being constantly hidden under his hakama. Smooth skin rippling over hard muscle like warm honey… Resolutely she turned around again. This was about getting clean.

She placed the bar of soap down on the rock, all her senses attuned to Inuyasha wading into the water behind her. She couldn’t help the naughty thoughts that kept trying to surface. Inuyasha had told her he liked her scent. He’d told her that if couples liked each others scent that was how you found a mate. All the dreams she’d had about her and Inuyasha being finally together after they’d confessed their feelings to each other began to filter into her head in vivid detail, and the thought that perhaps they could get dirty before they got clean popped into her head. Stop it!

“Kagome?”

She turned around to see Inuyasha standing before her in his cream coloured kosode. The fabric clung to his skin where the water had splashed as he’d walked towards her, and even though his undershirt was long enough to cover him to mid thigh, it was easy to see the outline of his fundoshi underneath in the hip deep water. She gulped, then took a deep breath. She could do this.

“Bob down in the water and get your kosode wet for me” she asked, her voice tentative, and he did, golden eyes locked on hers.

Inuyasha was trying to work out what was going on with Kagome. She was the one who’d suggested this after all, he was just a willing participant. Very willing. The thought of having her hands on any part of his body was thrilling, even if it was just to wash him. But she’d told him she’d liked the way he smelled, and if that wasn’t an invitation to take their relationship to the next level, he didn’t know what was. And she’d offered to wash him and his clothes, like mates did as they cared for each other. He was hoping she’d allow him to wash her too, even though he didn’t relish the thought of diluting her intoxicating scent. But the thought of touching her more than made up for that, and had him practically vibrating with excitement. She’d as good as told him she loved him and wanted to be his mate; and he’d never been happier.

Even with the water dampening her scent, he was loving this. Her usual sweet smell was there, rising around her like a cloud. He wanted to bury his nose in her hair, drown himself in it. Today, it was almost like over ripe plums, so thick he could almost taste it on his tongue. And there was just a hint of sweet sesame. He knew what that smell meant.

 The air had been heavy and still, not even a summer breeze to stir the humidity. He’d been sitting above the campsite, keeping watch as he usually did, dozing but alert enough to intercept any threat to his pack. The others were all sleeping peacefully after their long day of walking, Miroku and Sango on one side of the fire, now burnt down to embers, and Kagome on the other. For once, the little runt wasn’t tucked into her sleeping bag with her, because she’d said it was too hot to share. Instead, Shippou was over by Kirara, the two small demons cuddled up together in a small fluffy pile.

 He’d opened his eyes warily when he first heard a noise, already on the alert. Kagome was moving a little in her sleeping bag, obviously dreaming. At first, he’d thought she was having a nightmare, and he was about to jump down to shake her awake. But then she’d moaned. And it wasn’t the sort of moan you made when you were fearful. It was breathy and wanton, making his ears stand to attention. He’d watched, unable to look away, as her hips shifted, his ears twitching as he listened to her heartbeat escalate. She’d pushed the sleeping bag down to her waist, and her sleeveless thin cotton shirt revealed just a hint of the paler skin at the side of her breast, usually hidden. The still night air allowed her scent to rise towards him, a heady perfume of sweetness laced with a nutty undertone that him almost salivating. Was she..?

“Inuyasha”, she whimpered, her hands fisting on the soft fabric of her sleeping bag at her waist. She bit her bottom lip, those little white teeth denting the soft rosy skin. He could see her legs moving, cocooned within the fabric, and then she’d rolled onto her side, facing him, her hips circling rhythmically. She’d moaned again, her mouth a little open, her breathing a little laboured, and he’d nearly moaned along with her, adjusting his hakama which were suddenly feeling more than a little restrictive. She was dreaming about that and she’d said his name.

 It seemed wrong to watch her while she was asleep, forbidden and disrespectful, but he felt trapped by her scent as it rose to ensnare him, his body longing to go down to her and act on his raging instincts to take her and make her his. But he maintained his distance. He didn’t feel worthy of her. Even if she did have dreams about him, that didn’t necessarily mean that she loved him, wanted him forever like he wanted her. Until she told him so, in her own words, he would hold back.  

Inuyasha stood as still as he could in the heated water of the spring, waiting for Kagome to make the first move. He could tell she was still feeling a little uncertain, her pupils wide like a startled deer ready to bolt at any moment. He wouldn’t do anything to frighten her and jeoperdise this first step towards her touching him in a more intimate way. She’d always been shy about things like nudity, he only had to remember the way she’d reacted to his sudden naked appearance when he’d sprinted into her room after Souta had tried to boil him alive in the Higurashi bathroom. They would take this at her pace. He only hoped he could hold back his responses once she touched him. His fundoshi was already feeling tight, and they’d barely done anything.

She dipped her hands in the water, lathering her slim fingers with bubbles, then placed the bar of soap back on the rock. The mild milky smell of the soap blended well with her sweetness, and he held himself still as she placed her hands on his chest, wanting to whine at her touch. He saw her nose twitch delicately, and it was the cutest thing. He wanted to kiss her so badly.

Her hands ghosted over his chest and stomach, leaving the slightest trail of soap behind, and he shut his eyes so he could focus on the feel of those teasing fingers, his heart soaring at her touch. A mate’s touch. Finally he would be wanted, needed, and he couldn’t wait to touch her back, show her his devotion in the act of caring for her. His sweet girl.

“Arms up, Inuyasha.”

He obeyed without question, hers to command, for the moment at least. Those little hands retreated for a moment, and then they were back again. She was rubbing the bar of soap directly over the fabric bunched under his armpits. Made sense he supposed; hair, underarms and groin were where scent was concentrated. The thought of those little fingers on his groin made him almost whimper again.

“Arms down. Can you turn around for me?”

She gathered his hair, moving it to drape over his shoulder out of her way, and then the bar of soap was rubbed over the back of his neck, half on his collar, half on his skin. He realised that she was having to reach up above her head, and he knelt down in the water to make it easier for her. She leaned closer, and he felt one of her breasts brush the back of his shoulder as she worked her fingers into his collar, brushing over his skin. Fucking hell.

“Um… Inuyasha? I need you to take this off so I can rinse the soap out properly and squeeze the water out. Is that okay?”

She was asking him to strip down to just his fundoshi in front of her. Was that okay? He’d never heard of anything he’d wanted more in his entire life. It was all he could do not to rip the cloth keeping him apart from her touch to shreds.

“I can do that”, he said, hardly recognising the gravelled tone of his voice as his own. The wet ties keeping his kosode closed took a few moments to untangle, but he was determined, and finally they came loose. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, feeling Kagome take its weight. He ducked down in the water again to rinse the soap bubbles clinging to his neck away.

Kagome walked over to a another large flat rock, dragging Inuyasha’s kosode through the water to rinse it thouroughly, then twisted it to wring as much of the water out of it as she could. She sniffed the armpits and collar – these were the parts that had smelled the most to her, but they were much better now. There was still a slight smell to them, but they smelt more of just Inuyasha now than of rank sweat. With a pleased smile she spread the fabric out on one of the large flat rocks in the afternoon sunshine to dry.

Turning back, she couldn’t help staring at the sight before her. His wet skin glistened in the afternoon light, the lean muscle of his chest and abdominals on display for her eager gaze in the hip deep water, his wet hair still clinging to his shoulder where she’d placed it, hiding the only flaw in his perfect skin, the pale raised scar over his heart from Kikyou’s arrow. Normally when she saw him without his undershirt, it was because he was wounded, and she was more concerned with treating his injuries, her mind too full of worry to appreciate his looks. But now…

“You’re beautiful”, she whispered, and his ears flickered, turning pink at the tips.

“Kagome, ya can’t just say stuff like that.” Her heart swelled at the almost shy look he gave her. He was being so unlike his usual brash self. What was going on?

“But you are beautiful Inuyasha”, she smiled, wading back towards him, the water at almost breast height on her shorter body, and she realised his eyes were locked on her chest. She realised with a heated flush that he was looking at the peach coloured lace bra now revealed by her probably totally transparent wet cotton shirt. Realising she’d seen where he was looking, he averted his eyes for a moment, but then they flicked back again, then upwards to her eyes. His face was flushed, and she guessed that it wasn’t totally from the heat of the water.

She breathed in, and swallowed her embarrassment as best she could. She knew that this would happen when she walked into the hot spring with her shirt on. There was no point getting flustered about it like she usually would have. Besides, knowing that he was looking, was kind of… thrilling. She stood in front of him with the bar of soap still in her hand.

“Here, gimme that. I should help you wash your shirt too.”

“Oh, um...” She’d actually planned to wash her own clothing in the usual way, privately, but the look on his face was so pleading. This seemed important to him. And where was the harm, really? It didn’t have anything at all to do with the fact that she really wanted to feel his hands on her. “I guess that’s okay.”

He reached out to take the soap from her hand, fingers gliding over hers, lingering. The look on his face was almost reverent, his eyes warm and golden in the afternoon sunshine, and she realised there was something deeper going on here. This was more than just washing to him. Had she accidentally said something more than she’d meant to, when she’d suggested this? Was this like some sort of youkai courtship thing, washing each other? Her heart began beating faster. Not that she was totally adverse to that – she loved him, wanted to be with him, more than anything, but she’d rather know what was going on! Her fingers grasped his around the soap.

“Um, Inuyasha, what does this mean to you? Us washing each other?”

“That’s what a mate does. You wash each other, look after and care for each other.” His eyes lost their dreamy glow and were suddenly overtaken by panic. “Wait, did you not…”

She could pinpoint the exact moment when the feeling of self loathing and despair hit him, she’d seen it often enough in his eyes before. He was going to run, and it would take forever to earn his trust back. Not this time! Not when they were so close! She launched herself at him before he could leap, wrapping her arms around him tightly as he struggled to break free without hurting her.

“I didn’t know”, she gasped, “I didn’t know it meant exactly that. But I love you Inuyasua, I love you! I want us to be together! I want that with you, whatever that means to you! Explain it to me, please! Just don’t run away!”

His breaths were rough, gasping, his tone pleading. “You would want that? With me?”

She looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears at the broken sound of his voice. He sounded so unsure. Releasing him only to reach upwards with both hands, she tugged gently on both forelocks, bringing his head down so she could look directly into his eyes.

“I would want that”, she said, trying to put all the love she could into her words. “I would want that because it’s you.”

Taking a deep breath, she slid her hands to his cheeks, cupping his face, and then kissed him, softly, gently, trying to convey every single emotion she could in the touch of her lips, the caress of her fingers.

It took a few moments, but then he responded, his lips tentative at first, then firmer.

She squeaked against his lips as she felt strong hands enclose her waist, lifting her so she was sitting on the rock out of the water. Now she was at the same height as him, her eyes level with his.

“Kagome.” The expression of self loathing was slowly disappearing and being replaced with that golden reverent look, and she breathed a sight of relief.

“I’m sorry if I scared you, I didn’t mean to. I could tell this was important to you and I just wanted to be sure, that’s all. You never have to doubt the way I feel about you Inuyasha, okay?”

“Okay.” He stroked her cheek. “You wanted to know what it means for us to wash each other?”

She nodded, taking the now slightly mangled soap from his hand and replacing it with her own.

“Bathing together is important to youkai packs. It’s a family thing, a chance to be together, talk together. Especially for mated couples, because it shows that you care for one another, and want to reaffirm the bond. When you said that you wanted to wash me… and you said you liked the way I smell… Kagome. That’s…”

She smiled up at him, turning her face to kiss his palm. “I could see that was important to you. And I do like the way you smell, I always have. So, explain the mate thing to me. That’s like humans being married, right?”

He nodded. “To me it is. There are some youkai who are mated for just a season, but I don’t want that.”

“I don’t want that either”, she said softly. “I can’t see myself feeling like this for anyone else Inuyasha. I want to be with you and no one else.”

“You’d wear my mark?” His eyes examined hers anxiously, flickering between hope and uncertainty, and she pulled his hand from her cheek to squeeze his fingers.

“You’ll have to explain what that means to me. But if it’s something that shows others that we belong together, then I’m all for it.”

“It’s like a blood oath. I would make cut on your smallest finger here”, he said, and Kagome shivered as he ever so delicately ran his claw across the skin of her pinkie finger on her left hand, “and you would make a cut on my thumb. We would clasp hands and make a binding promise to care for each other, and usually, our combined youki would bond us together. And then every time we uh… mated…”, Kagome couldn’t help the blush that rose to her cheeks, but she kept her focus on his intense amber eyes, unable to look away, “youki feeds into the promise, making it stronger. Any other youkai will be able to sense that it’s there, that we are mated. For some, it’s just for a season, until the female is pregnant - that bond is easily broken. For some couples, it’s until their pups are grown enough to take care of themselves. For others, it’s for life, until one of them dies.”

“I want that. To be bonded to you for life. Would that happen with us?”, Kagome asked excitedly, squeezing his fingers. To her it sounded like Inuyasha was describing a red thread of fate, which made her heart soar. “I mean, I don’t have youki, would it still work?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of any youkai making a mate promise with a human reiki user.” His face fell, and that look of uncertainty returned. “And I’m hanyou, I might not be enough-”

“You’re enough for me”, said Kagome firmly, “more than enough. The only thing that matters is that we make a promise to each other, and mean it. That’s all I want. That’s all I need.” She smiled wryly. “And surely the fact that I came back five hundred years through a magical well to find you would count for something.” She smiled when he chuckled. “Let’s do this Inuyasha!”

“Now?!”

“Yes, now. You said you were sure about me Inuyasha. That’s still true isn’t it?”

The kiss he gave her was soft and heartfelt, full of promise.

“You know it is.”

Kagome looked at his hand carefully, running her forefinger over the meaty part of his thumb. “How big does the cut need to be? I don’t want to hurt you.” Inuyasha snorted, as if the idea of her being able to hurt him was laughable. Kagome rolled her eyes. “I’ll have to get something to do it with, seeing I don’t come equipped for this”, she said, wriggling her own fingers to display her blunt human fingernails. Inuyasha shrugged.

“Just use my claw to do it. Just as long as you’re the one doing it, I don’t think it matters how you do it.”

“Okay.”

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the point of Inuyasha’s clawed forefinger against the thumb on his left hand. It took a surprising amount of force to cut his skin, and even then it was only small, just enough for the blood to bead and gradually trickle down. He held his bleeding thumb over his palm, allowing the slow drips  to collect in there.

“Okay, now you do mine”, she said, holding out her hand.

It took Inuyasha a few moments to be able to work himself up to hesitantly scratch a cut into Kagome’s skin, his ears flattening as he did so. Kagome copied what Inuyasha had done, allowing the small trickle of blood to collect in her palm. She looked expectantly at Inuyasha, waiting to be told what to do next. He took her hand, squeezing their bloodied palms together and intertwining the tips of their fingers so they pointed upwards.

“Kagome, I would take you for my mate, to love and care for, to protect and honour, for as long as we both should wish it.” His voice shook a little as he spoke, his words quiet as if he hardly believed he was the one speaking them. He nodded at Kagome. She took a deep breath, trying to remember the words as he had said them exactly.

“Inuyasha, I would take you for my mate, to love and care for, to… protect and honour, for as long as we both should wish it.”

She could feel Inuyasha’s youki enveloping her, almost like a caress, and without her even having to will it, her reiki rushed up to meet it. She could feel the opposing energies mixing but not, almost like oil and water swirling together, both retaining their own qualities but not overpowering the other, like they recognised that there was no threat. There was a small spark within their joined hands, almost like a static shock, and they both watched in awe as their hands glowed brightly. Kagome yelped and Inuyasha hissed as they both felt an intense moment of pain, something like the heat of a burn on the fingers that had been cut, and then the glow on their hands dissipated.

“Are you okay?” they both said at the same moment. Inuyasha chuckled, reaching out with his other hand to stroke Kagome’s cheek.

“My Kagome.”

Kagome moved her mouth to kiss Inuyasha’s palm, and then smiled up at him. She couldn’t speak, it was like the feelings in her chest were too big to contain, like they were trying to bubble out of her, pushing back her words. He dropped a kiss on her forehead, then her cheek, then softly on her lips.

“I love you”, he whispered, his mouth moving against hers, and she swallowed his words eagerly, taking them for her own.

“I love you too, Inuyasha, so much.” She looked down at their hands, still joined. “Did it work the way it was mean to?”

Carefully, Inuyasha pulled his palm away from hers, and she gasped. The blood was gone, vanished as if it had never been there, and there was a very fine strand of energy connecting their hands, anchored from his thumb to her little finger. Where they had made the small cuts was now a raised silver scar, like a long healed burn.

“It worked”, said Inuyasha in amazement. “Kagome! It worked!”

“It’s beautiful”, she whispered, looking at the fine thread. She could sense both their energies within it, like her reiki and his youki had woven themselves around each other to create a single strand, the yellow and pink twisted to create a pale amber cord, much like Inuyasha’s eyes. She guessed it would only be visible to those with youki and reiki. “You said we could strengthen it right? I don’t ever want this to break!”

“We strengthen it by showing our love for each other”, he murmured, his nose nuzzling in against her neck. “Anything we do to care for each other will help strengthen the bond, although mating is the most direct way.”

Kagome felt the heat rising in her cheeks at his mention of mating, but smiled at him, picking up the soap sitting next to her on the rock. “You wanted to wash me right? And you said that was a way mates strengthen their bond? Let’s start with that, and take it from there.”

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

It’s This Jealousy 

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Notes: I got tagged in this post right here by @starkerscoop and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get my hands on it. It got a little smutty at the end - hope you don’t mind! (& @send-me-your-hcs asked for a tag, too!)  Warnings: masturbation  Summary: 

It's this jealousy Oh, and I just can't believe In this jealousy This jealousy for you

At the ripe age of 49, Tony never imagined he’d be best friends with an 18-year-old. After all the mess with Steve and Bucky, things were a little strained between Rhodey and Tony. It wasn’t anything personal, there were just lots of things between them now, the leg braces he worked constantly to improve not even close to the only thing. With Peter, Tony could simply be. Their shared history wasn’t filled with anything other than a little tension and some misplaced control on Tony’s part.

The more Tony started to see Peter as the intelligent person he was and not the kid he always made him out to be, the more he wanted to have the younger man around. There was something in the way he tilted his head to ask questions and babbled incessantly that Tony just felt drawn to. Try as he might, there was no escaping the magnetic pull that drew him more towards Peter every single day.

It wasn’t subtle, either – the way they just seemed to fit. Peter moved into Avenger’s tower after graduating; the transition from part time to full time was and easy one, he fit right in with everyone – especially Tony. It didn’t take long for the two of them to break off and head for the lab together or be found in the living room pressed together from shoulder to hip talking quietly amongst themselves.

If someone was looking for Tony, they always pointed him in Peter’s direction. There weren’t many times throughout the day that they weren’t together. Tony appreciated Peter’s brain – he thought from all angles and wasn’t afraid to be wrong. There were many times when Peter taught Tony something new or made him go back and look at things from a totally different perspective.

Just the other day, Tony sat with his head in his hands, the nanotech and its housing unit he’d been trying to manipulate for the last hour sitting uselessly on the desk. A soft touch on his shoulder had him looking up, a smile overtaking his face for the first time all day. “Hey, kid,” Tony said in greeting, his hand coming up to hold Peter’s to his shoulder for a moment. “Training go well?”

He’d been trying to update his suit, so he stepped out of the group training for the day. The transition from the mechanism on his chest to the full suit was still too slow – he needed at least another second off of the total time. The headache didn’t seem worth it at that point, though – he should have worked the frustrations out. His head ached and he wanted to pull the freshly showered Peter Parker closer to him more than usual.

When Tony let go of Peter’s hand, he was surprised to find that Peter didn’t move his hand from its place on his shoulder. In fact, the fingers there dug in, the tips moving up and down the line of muscle. He tried not to move – the last thing he wanted to do was scare the kid away; the touch felt amazing. It was almost enough to make the collection of useless tech below him not matter. Almost.

“It did – the new adjustments you made to the aiming system did a world of good. I was moving so fast today,” Peter answered, his voice excited. Tony forced himself to settle on the slightest flash of a smile – Peter loved being a superhero, it was so insanely obvious. More often times than not, Tony found himself working on Peter’s suit just to see the astonishing smile on his face – the very one that was beaming back at him right now.

Tony picked up the small screwdriver he’d been using to mess with the back paneling, his face burning a little from the rush of affection that washed over him. It didn’t make sense, feeling like a schoolboy with a crush. But he couldn’t help it – Peter was so wholesome and filled with excitability and life; it was hard not to be drawn to it. “Bummed I missed it. I’ll pull the data from EDITH later – we can do a little data spec. I’ll see it in real time that way.”

He heard Peter suck in a breath, then saw the smile on his face grow wider. “That sounds like a good idea. I also brought some new ideas for the next evolution of web fluid. I’m so close to a breakthrough.” He went about taking his StarkPad and old-fashioned spiral notebook out of his backpack, excitement written all over his face.

Sitting down next to him (instead of across from him like not too long ago) Peter leaned into Tony’s space, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t think it’s this,” Peter remarked, pointing to the external structure. “The adjustments you made on the shooters was in the programming. I don’t think it’s a mass thing, either. I think it’s in the transition.” To Tony’s surprise, he opened his notebook and pointed to a couple different equations. “I ran these this morning when I saw what you were looking at yesterday.”

Peter’s cheeks were red, and his body radiated the kind of heat that shouldn’t have been natural. It made his entire right side warm, the bare skin of his forearms prickling from the contact. Letting his eyes roam over the work, Tony leaned into him – an arm wrapping around his shoulder. “This is good stuff, Pete. I think I know exactly where to go now.” He kept his arm there for a few minutes, the two of them still lightly discussing the numbers and what brought Peter down that path.

A week later, his suit was ruining faster than ever before. Every time he punched the mechanism and the nanotech did its thing, Tony felt a warm drip of pride in the middle of his core – the little bits of attraction he’d been trying to hide getting harder and harder to ignore.

Especially because Peter seemed to think that their friendship came with an all access pass – to him, to the never-ending stream of thoughts that ran through his head, hell, to Tony’s things. Many times, he’d come back from a meeting and find Peter passed out on the edge of his bed, the huge TV dialed in to some anime show he couldn’t force himself to get into. He never did anything about it – how could he? Most of his daydreams revolved around that very instance.

After a few weeks, Peter started to talk – like, really talk. He started with the story of how his parents died and the struggle it was to get used to living with May and Ben. Peter talked about the things he missed because he didn’t have parents in his life, no matter how much his aunt and uncle tried. 

The more time they spent together, the more Peter let himself be free with his words. Tony knew what type of shampoo he preferred, how many times May walked in on him naked or unclothed, and all the different fanfictions currently all the rage.

They were close – plain and simple. There were a few times when their closeness seemed like it might be something else, but neither man acted upon it. Tony didn’t want to apply undue pressure to a situation that only few people his age were interested in. He didn’t know much about Peter’s thoughts on that matter – it was the one thing they didn’t talk about.

MJ quickly became a topic that strictly stayed in the friend pile, Peter’s interest in her weaning significantly after some sort of mishap during their trip to Europe.

Tony spent most of his time holed up in his bedroom the entire week Peter was gone, his mind and body exhausted from all the work he managed to get done in the comfort of his king-sized bed. He didn’t talk to anyone, Tony keenly aware that his behavior was not appropriate for an almost 50-year-old person.

He could never admit that Peter coming back was the best day of the entire summer – the two of them quickly catching up on his use of EDITH and the different aspects of the new suit he wanted to start working on for his patrols back in the city. It seemed like nothing changed between them – but relationships or anything related weren’t brought up again.

The idea that he wasn’t approachable in that area made his jaw clench. His history didn’t lend itself to a positive image, he could admit that. There were a few years when things were so out of whack that only going from one thing to the next could satisfy him. After the cave, Tony figured the person closest to him when he got back was the answer. The try he applied to his relationship with Pepper wasn’t lacking, they were simply better off as friends.

It smarted a little – how perceptive Peter was. If the reason he didn’t approach Tony was because of his past, he couldn’t begrudge Peter one single bit. The kid was smart and understood that bad habits weren’t to be repeated. Too bad Tony’s history wasn’t anything like the way he currently felt and thought.

----

Walking into the kitchen in the common area of the tower, Tony quirked a brow at the congregation of Steve Rogers, Wanda, Bucky, and Peter – they all looked up at him when they realized he was in the room. Peter’s cheeks colored, his eyes drifting down to the hands knit together in front of him. The rest of the adults at the table were looking at him with looks of curiosity and interest – Tony almost certain he could feel Wanda picking around in his brain, or something.

“Tony!” Peter exclaimed, one of his hands moving quickly to cover his mouth. It would have been comical if Tony didn’t know the kid so well. Peter didn’t do so well with lying or bending the truth – his face and expressive eyes gave him away. Staring at him now, Tony wondered what kind of snake pit he walked into. He gave the group a swift nod but didn’t stop to join them – he didn’t need spider senses to understand the prickly sensation on the back of his neck.

He was quick to get the hell out of dodge, a water bottle in his hand – the thought of making a sandwich quickly abandoned when all of the eyes in the room followed his every movement. Settling onto the couch, Tony put a random Netflix show on and turned up the volume – his ears ringing from the overdrive of his thoughts. Whatever they were talking about, he suspected it might have something to do with him.

It didn’t stay a mystery long. Tony saw Steve approaching him from the laid-back position he let himself curl into on the couch. Queer Eye sucked him in, so he let his brain check out, his body relaxing with the rest of him. The second he saw Steve, though, he sat up – the prickly sensation returning to his skin. He felt like he might throw up all over his fancy shoes, the thought that maybe throwing up would be a little less painful than whatever Steve might have to say crossed his mind.

“So – “ Steve started, his arms folding across his chest as he settled into the empty part of the couch. “I had a surprising conversation with Peter. Or well, he asked some surprising questions. Are things okay between the two of you?” Steve’s voice sounded a little patronizing – the big brother act something Tony could never get behind. At least he was here talking to him, though – it didn’t seem right to begrudge him that.

“What are you talking about, Rogers? I don’t know what kind of questions he asked you to know what you’re referring to. The last time I saw Peter, he was smiling over a beaker of web fluid.” Tony pressed himself against the side of the couch, the softness of it aggravating. In that moment, he wanted weight – something to ground him to this weird conversation.

In another life, Tony would’ve appreciated the tilt of Steve’s head, the curious look in his eye not the worst thing to look at. He knew what it was like to take on Bucky, though – he’d never win that fight alone. Shaking his head of the thought, he focused on Steve and the words it seemed he was trying to find. “He was asking about pleasuring himself. We all assumed you two were good in that department.”

Tony sucked in a breath, his eye bulging. “Pleasuring himself – what? Steve, we’re not together.” The words felt weird coming out of his mouth, like they were trying their hardest to cling to the surface of his tongue and not be spoken; speaking them made it true. Running a hand through his hair, Tony wished that the couch would open up and swallow him whole.

The emotions that swarmed around him made it hard to pay attention to anything else Steve said – his head nodding, but his brain not really processing anything. All he could think about was the fact that Peter went to Steve Rogers of all people to ask about the most personal of matters. Tony was good enough for everything except carnality – what a joy that was to learn. Without much thought, Tony got up, not really giving two shits about the still talking Steve gaping at him from the couch.

He took refuge in the lab – the sight and smell of familiar things enough to calm him down slightly. “FRIDAY, play some classic rock, will you? KISS, maybe.” Tony said absentmindedly – music would drown out the bottomless pit of things that only made him angry. His understanding of how irrational it was to be as angry and jealous and upset about something that wasn’t even his business made it all a little worse.

A whoosh of the door opening a little while later brought Tony out of the trance that he blissfully slipped into. Not thinking was a lot better than the war of emotions that threatened to consume him. His eyes caught Peter’s, his exterior softening for a second – his presence was soothing, even now.

Remembering Steve’s mistake and the weird feeling of betrayal, Tony lowered his eyes quickly – it would take ignoring the soft look in Peter’s eye to keep firm to his resolve to be mad.

“Tony – I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Peter approached him like one would a wounded animal, slowly and with caution. He wondered if Steve was supposed to tell Tony about Peter’s questions – if he was betraying the kid’s trust to set the record straight. His blood felt like it was boiling – the direction of his thoughts not very productive in deactivating the bomb that was ticking down, each second a little closer to explosion.

He felt himself huff out a sarcastic laugh, his emotions getting the best of him. “Well, you found me. Now what?” Tony’s voice was harder than he ever wanted to use towards Peter – the pitch of it sending a shiver of shame down his spine. The subtle change in the room wasn’t missed – so he let the feeling take hold; what did he really have to lose?

“What? Tony, I – “ Peter spluttered, words not coming despite his demand for them.

“You what? You’ve told me your entire life story, every little intimate detail, but you seek out Steve Rogers for sex advice? I don’t get you, Peter – a little piece of me is licking a wound. It kind of feels a little like betrayal.” Tony inwardly cringed, his own desperation so very evident. The dam inside of him was broken – there seemed to really be no going back. “I’m good enough for everything but this?”

Peter’s face fell, his usually bright eyes clouded over by confusion that was swiftly mixing with hurt – it pained Tony on a molecular level, seeing that gorgeous face anything but radiant with happiness. “Steve’s such an asshole,” Peter muttered, his eyes dropping to the floor. Tony wanted to pick Peter’s head up and rub his cheeks until the red hue and shine came back to his face.

“I didn’t come to you because you’re the one driving me crazy – I’ve been so on edge around you and I can’t – there hasn’t been any relief. I thought I’d ask people who are just as souped up as me about it. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me,” Peter admitted quietly, his eyes peeking up to gauge the look on Tony’s face.

Shaking his head, Tony cursed himself for not being the stonewalled person he made himself out to be. The cracks in his armor were ones he couldn’t buff out – no matter how hard he tried. Words he longed to hear sat on his skin, his body trying to decide how to process the stimulus of actually getting the thing he wanted the most.

The few steps it took to close the gap between them felt like miles – Tony couldn’t get his hands on Peter fast enough. “I’m driving you crazy?” Tony mumbled; his hands grabbing Peter’s hips. “You walk into the room and I’m completely lost. I’ve thought about bending you over every one of these tables – kissing you breathless against the damn fridge you lean into and search for food that isn’t there.”

Peter wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck, his enhanced strength pulling Tony against him before he knew what happened. There wasn’t any space left between them, their noses brushing with every hitch of breath either man took. “You’re my best friend, Pete – I haven’t wanted to fuck that up.”

Their lips touched then, both of them leaning in to close the distance. Tony’s fingers clenched, the hold on Peter’s hips tightening. The t-shirt Peter was wearing rode up a little, a bare stripe of skin available for his fingers to touch. At first brush, the body against him squirmed, Peter pulling away to let out a soft gasp. “Fuck!” Peter grunted out, his eyes clenching closed.

Tony watched Peter’s reaction, a rush of heat collecting in the boiling pit of his stomach – his cock throbbed against the zipper of his jeans. He’d thought a lot about what Peter would look like in the throes of passion – the sight was exponentially better than anything his brain could dream up. The flush on his cheeks made them seem fuller, the globe of them looking tasty enough to pull into his mouth. Glazed eyes and a hanging jaw had Tony moving – his lips desperate to be pressed against Peter’s once again.

“We should move this elsewhere,” Peter babbled against Tony’s lips, his fingers fisted in the front of Tony’s shirt. “I want to feel your skin, Tony.” His hands were uselessly tugging at the buttons, the fabric of it starting to tear with the force of his grip.

Groaning, Tony forced himself to take a couple of steps out of Peter’s grip completely. It would take too many brain cells to get to the elevator and up to the floor his rooms were on if he were still anyway attached to Peter – his hands achy to touch, to finally feel the thrum of Peter’s heartbeat pulsing in his veins.

“After you,” Tony mumbled, his chest heaving as he watched Peter walk in front of him, the articulation of his step hitched a bit from the stiffness in his pants. His steps were quick and the view from behind was nice – a good enough distraction to get him from the lab, into the elevator, and then down the hall where he grabbed Peter’s hand and pulled him along.

The slamming of the door in his bedroom was more satisfying than he figured something small like that had the right to be. Peter’s breath hitched when Tony’s eager fingers slipped under the edge of the soft t-shirt covering the long limbs he’d been thinking about for months. It got caught on Peter’s ear as Tony pulled it off, both of them laughing. “I can’t believe this is happening,” Peter admitted, pupils blown wide.

Tony grinned, the tips of his fingers trailing down the hard planes of Peter’s sides – “It’s real – I’m real,” Tony answered, his hand grabbing Peter’s and placing it over the hardness trying to escape the confines of his jeans. “That’s for you.” He let a chuckle slip, the reaction of Peter’s hand tightening on his crotch surprising him.

They made quick work of clothes after that, Tony kissing him breathless between the unbuttoning of his shirt buttons and the fumbling it took to get shoes, pants, and briefs off. Peter ended up in the middle of the bed, Tony settled between his spread legs. “Touch yourself. Steve may be enhanced, but I know what it’s like to feel good,” Tony’s voice dropped, his eyes wandering over every single inch of Peter stretched out below him.

Peter didn’t wait to do what he said, long fingers wrapping around a thick erection before Tony even finished speaking. His grip was tight, Tony taking stock in the way he slid his hand from the head to the base, and the flick of his wrist on the upstroke. Dark eyelashes flickered, the edges of them just barely moving along the edge of Peter’s cheek.  

Without saying anything, Tony let the fingers of his right-hand trail along the inside of Peter’s thighs. He kept the touch light, the skin pebbling with his caress. “The best part of what you’re doing is the build-up. It starts with the littlest itch. You grasp on and try to itch, but the pressure you’re using isn’t enough,” Tony flattened his hand, his palm running down the front of Peter’s balls. They were slightly hairy and drawn up – the sheen of sweat on Peter’s skin telling him just how much Peter seemed to be enjoying the tease.

Gripping both of Peter’s balls in his hand, Tony gave a tug and rolled them between his fingers. “So, you grip a little harder and move your hand a little faster – it’s the sweet combination of pleasure-pain, the relief of almost curing the itch and the slightest dig of your fingernails into your skin.” Tony let his left-hand wrap around his own length, the tip completely drenched in precum.

Tony slipped his hand from Peter’s balls down his perineum and in between his cheeks, his finger tracing around the tight rim of his asshole. Peter’s hand was moving quickly over himself, his eyes wide as he tried to stave off an orgasm and catch every move of Tony’s hand that he could. “You should cum, Pete. Finally scratch that itch.” Tony’s finger pressed ever so slightly against the rim as he spoke, the tip barely slipping inside. “Cum, Pete.”

The clench of Peter’s muscles was almost enough to pull Tony over the edge with him – Peter’s hand was flying over his length, the start of his orgasm splashing against the bottom of his stomach, then pooling between the ab and pec complex up towards his chest. Tony’s name dripped from his lips, Peter’s free hand fumbling around until he grasped bare skin.

It took a couple more strokes for Tony to follow him over the edge, the sight of Peter’s cum coating his own stomach and the blissed-out expression on his face more than enough to fuel Tony’s fire for a long time to come.

Without much thought, Tony collapsed on Peter’s chest, their legs tangling. He didn’t care about the cum that smeared against his skin when he moved in to press a kiss to already swollen lips – Tony hoped to spend many days covered in Peter’s cum and sweat. Now that the dam was broken, there’d be no holding back the feelings he tried his best to keep under control.

Peter’s arms wrapped tightly around him, Tony feeling the boy’s sigh from his position against his chest. His skin was warm and slick – the softness of it a contrast that made Tony want to hunker down and be surrounded by it forever.

[jeanjauthor]

How do I do a book that’s pre clock invention that spans years but in one book? How do I time jump that my readers know what year or month it is?

How did the builders of Stonehenge 5,000 years ago know how to align it celestially with the solstices, etc?

Does your planet have stars visible at night? Does it have a moon that orbits that world? (Or is it an inhabitable moon orbiting a gas giant?) Does it have a sun that moves across the sky, creating angles to discern moments in time, and dividing day from night? Does it have seasons in the area where the story takes place?

...By seasons, I don't mean frozen winters, hot summers, etc. Seasons could be "monsoon rains vs dry season" or "the daily afternoon rains are coming, time to pull the laundry off the line."

In the Earth's Children series by Jean M. Auel (zero relation), the people of the Clan (her created culture for Neanderthalensis) didn't really have or use numbers (other than the mog-ur/shamans), but they did label their years for their children such as "birthing year, walking year, weaning year." They also carried a constant awareness of what season it was--any culture, from hunter-gatherer on up through agrarian (farming) will have that awareness of what time of year it is.

Once you hit industrial revolution, they'll most likely invent clocks, but long before the invention of gear mechanisms (*conveniently ignores the antikythera mechanism*) people still had calendars. The ancient Egyptian calendar began on different dates because it was dependent upon the annual flooding of the Nile, but they still had months and days because they depended upon the Moon to help order the passage of time. Same with China; their months were measured by the moon, their New Year would vary year by year, but they had months and they had days and they even had hours that were labeled.

And before the invention of geared clocks, people still had clocks. They had candles of specific regular thickness and length marked with measured cuts along the side, or a small nail stuck into the wax; when it dropped from melting (usually into a metal pan so it made a loud, noticeable noise) or the candle melted down to a particular mark, they knew how much time had passed.

They also had water clocks, which were designed to drip water at a specific rate from one container to another. These varied in shape, design, and timespan, but they are one of the most ancient recognizable timekeeping pieces available, and often consisted of a bowl floating in another, larger bowl, with the smaller bowl having a pinprick hole. When that pinprick filled the smaller bowl high enough, it would sink, and clink against the bottom of the larger bowl. These versions of timekeeping have been found in certain Indigenous American cultures as well as in African, European, and Asian communities. (Not sure about Australian indigenous.)

Macadamia nuts were used by Polynesians as literal candle-nuts, and since most macadamias are similar in size, this meant that they, too, could be burned as a unit of measuring time. (Not necessarily scientifically accurately, but hey, it works at least somewhat!)

As for measuring the passage of weeks and months and years, each region and culture had its own way of measuring time--a lot of them were annotated like this: "In the 3rd year of the reign of Thutmoses II" and "In the 43rd year of the reign of our glorious Queen Elizabeth (I)..." Of course, by the time Queen Elizabeth I ruled, they'd had the Gregorian calendar being used by most everyone in Europe, and they did have mechanical clocks, but you'd still have outliers using the Julian Calendar. (Modern day Russia, the government, uses the Gregorian now, but the Russian Orthodox Church still uses the Julian calendar, for example.)

If it's a real world era & culture, you can simply look that up. But if it's a created world & culture...you gotta figure out how they'd approach the matter. If their culture relies more upon agriculture than religion, they'd use more agriculture-specific terms.

The Coastal Salish peoples here in the Pacific Northwest literally named some of their months by which edibles were available, such as "Berry Shoot Month" for the time of year when they'd go around looking for new growth on specific bramble vines to cut, peel, and eat in the early spring, or "Salmonberry season" whcih is when the eponymously orange berries become ripe enough to harvest...which is also just before the late spring/early summer salmon spawning runs for certain salmon species. This progression of what-to-gather-when was a strong influence upon how they labeled their calendar.

If, however, it's a heavily religious community, then there may be things like specific days or months devoted to a particular god or spirit/entity, specific saint's days to celebrate at certain times of year (you're always hearing about "the Feast of St. Crispin's Day" or "we'll meet again two days after Michaelmas" in medieval-setting stories).

If it is a created world...well, that means you'll want to create a calendar. it doesn't have to be super complex, but you do want to figure out how it'll be set up, how long the days are, how long the weeks, how long the months, and of course how long the years. I haven't read the Game of Thrones series, but apparently winter lasts a really long time, so there's that. In my IaVerse, every planet has a different rotational cycle and day length, so they all had to agree upon a universal or "Alliance Standard" for measuring time...but while Earth days and V'Dan days technically aren't the same, their years (length of time it takes to go around their respective suns) actually come pretty darn close, so a Terran born on Earth will reach the age of 18 years old at about the same time as a V'Dan born on V'Dan.

However, a Terran born on Mars will be 18 in Earth years at the same time as the V'Dan born on V'Dan, IF they use Earth years, but in Mars years, they'll "only be" 9.5 years old (the Earth orbits the Sun in 365-ish days, while Mars orbits the Sun in 687 days, give or take). So everyone within the Terran United Planets has agreed that "Terran Standard" is based upon Earth measurements (Greenwich Mean Time), so no matter where you go in space, if you're aboard a Terran ship, they mark time in Terran units...and then add in a second digital display to "synch" time with whatever local area they're at.

Of course, that's high tech post-clock stuff, but it still applies to some degree--again, think of the Julian calendar versus the Gregorian calendar. Before the Russian government shifted to using the Gregorian calendar, there used to be all manner of confusion about booking hotel rooms, when business meetings were to take place, so on and so forth. And despite the fact that the Chinese calendar has been in use for far longer...they, too, have taken to using the Gregorian calendar just so that everyone can be doing business on the same page. This wasn't always the case.

If your characters are going to be traveling in a different culture, if they speak that culture's language, then they may be aware of the confusion that will occasionally strike those who are used to one system but not the other. Otherwise they'll use their own culture's time references--Rappa Nui was "named" Easter Island because that's the day of the European calendar year when the European explorers encountered it, even though it already had a name.

If they're going to be at home / not traveling, then they (and you!) won't have to worry about other cultural timekeeping methods. Just come up with your own, decide if it's based upon agriculture, astronomy, mythology, religion, and/or state leader worship (July and August are both named after Roman Emperors, Julius Caesar and his successor Augustus, iirc). It could even be a mix of things, like our own months. (January is named after Janus the two-faced god of ancient Rome, but our week-days include Wodin's Day, Thor's Day, Freya's Day, for the Norse Gods, then back to Rome for Saturn's Day, etc.)

Calendars, like cultures, are living things, constantly affected by the people creating them and living within them, shaping and reshaping everything. Don't be afraid to mix things up a little, if it's a created culture you're working within.

Hope that helps!

[yikesharringrove]

Hiiii!!! I love your NSFW Works and was wondering if I could ask for a part 2 of your ABO au? Where Steve is just being the cute Omega he is and Billy being a super fluffy and caring Alpha who also knows how to properly dom Steve? I love the way you portrayed them in the first one! Thanks!

So, I’m gonna be honest, I have several A/B/O aus rn so I’m not sure which you mean, but I’m p sure it’s this one lol

If you were meaning another one, let me know!

Part two

Smut

-

Steve was used to everyone staying as far away from his as possible.

The other alphas at the school typically paid him no mind, didn’t wanna get mixed up in that.

But now that Billy had publicly claimed him, had looked Nancy straight in the eye and scented Steve.

Close to three months, and people were still talking about Billy Hargrove coming in and stealing Nancy Wheeler’s omega right out from under her.

Well, it was popular knowledge that Nancy was double timing him. Everyone would shake their heads as Steve trailed so sweetly behind her.

But now he was with an alpha that snapped his jaws if anyone dared to look at Steve.

So the other alphas left him alone, not wanting to get tangled up with Billy.

It did wonders for Steve’s self esteem. To have the most possessive alpha in the damn town, constantly touching and manhandling him, glaring at anyone that got too close.

It took him a week to realize Robin was the least threatening person to his relationship, a week of Billy hauling Steve onto his lap, making direct eye contact with Robin as he groped Steve. A week until Robin had said you know I got someone, right? A GIRL someone? and Billy had cooled it.

So Steve spent his days tucked under Billy’s arm, nuzzling into him as they walked through the school. And he spent his nights hanging off Billy’s knots, getting fucking railed into his mattress.

“I want, I want you to spend my next heat with me.”

Steve was sitting on Billy’s lap in the cafeteria. They would usually sit in one corner, tucked together and eating off the same tray.

“When is it?”

“It’ll start next Wednesday.” Steve had been through two heats after they made it official, so Billy was pretty attune with them, knew how long Steve would be out of school, knew from the phone calls he would get that Steve was fucking horny for all of it.

“I can do that for you, Baby. Spend the whole week fuckin’ you silly.” Steve smiled at him bashfully, tucking his face into Billy’s neck, his cheeks hot and red.

-

Billy had a bag with him when he arrived to Steve’s house on Wednesday. He wasn’t sure why, knew he was gonna be fucking naked most of the weekend.

Steve had stuck a note to the door, a little yellow Post-It with Steve’s neat handwriting.

The door’s open. I’m nesting :)

Billy tucked the note in his pocket, locking the door behind him.

The second he was inside, his nose perked up at the smell of ripe, horny omega. His omega.

He rushed upstairs, taking a second to calm himself down before entering Steve’s room.

Steve was nested under a pile of thick blankets, down feather duvets and heavy wool he had crotchet himself.

Billy stared at the lump of Steve in the bed, just taking in his scent.

And then he heard a moan.

“Alpha. I can smell you.”

He was pawing away blankets before he knew what he was doing, revealing a naked and very sweaty Steve, flushed red from his cheeks to his chest. And the pool of slick staining the sheets below him.

“Holy fuck, Pretty Boy.” Steve whined, his legs falling open.

“Want you. N-need you.”

“Yeah? You need me?” Steve bit his lip, whimpering as he nodded.

“Alpha, it hurts. Need you to make it better.” And then he chirped, high in his throat, the little involuntary response that drove Billy absolutely fucking wild. Billy growled.

“Omega, present.” Steve fucking scrambled.

He was all limb, long and awkward as he situated himself on his knees and elbows.

Slick was running down his thighs, adding to the wet spot below them.

He was pushing his hips back, angling them so Billy could see his wet little clutch, legs spread wide.

And he was making all these sounds, moaning and chirping and sobbing out for Billy.

“You’re so good. Such a perfect omega. So sweet and pretty, presenting for your alpha.” Steve trilled, high in his throat. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want you knot. Want you to fuck me, fill me up, make me so full.”

Billy had been really fucking hard in his jeans since the moment he had stepped into the house.

But this was on a whole other level.

He lowered himself down, licking a stripe of his sweet cunt, tongue flicking his cock, lapping up the slick that was fucking gushing out of him.

“Taste so good. Even fucking sweeter in heat. Just so fucking fertile.” Billy caught himself, his mind racing for a moment. He had never really gotten off on the whole fertility thing, never really looked at an omega and thought about filling them with his pup.

But the Steve shuddered, and fucking came untouched, just from Billy calling him fertile.

“You want me to knock you up? Cum so fucking deep inside you swell up?” Steve cried out, scrambling to get a pillow under his head as he fell apart.

And then he thought about Steve, pregnant and round, flushed and beautiful, and he needed to be inside him right fucking now.

He shed his clothes quickly, Steve watching with one eye, hips swaying gently back and forth.

He choked when he saw Billy’s cock, eyes going dark as he zeroed in on it, hard and curved to his stomach.

Billy positioned himself back behind Steve, sliding two fingers into him.

“Don’t, don’t need prep. I’m ready.”

“Don’t need it, or don’t want it?” Steve let out a tiny little growl. It was fucking cute. “You really just growled at me?” He pulled out his fingers. “Omega forget his place?”

“N-no, Alpha. I just, just want you. Want your knot so bad it hurts.” Billy shoved three fingers into him, making him groan and wiggle his hips.

“Ask nicely.”

“Please! I want you knot, please give me your knot, Alpha.” He was babbling away, making Billy grin, his dick twitching.

He took out his fingers and lined himself up.

“Begged me so pretty. So sweet and perfect.” And he pushed himself into Steve.

He was so fucking wet, slick dribbling down Billy’s pelvis, the front of his thighs as he began to fuck Steve, keeping his thrusts shallow, torturous. He had an iron grip on Steve’s hips, keeping him from fucking himself on Billy’s thick cock, fingers digging into the soft fat there.

“Faster, please.” Steve’s voice was small. But he had asked so nicely, hadn’t just tried to take, couldn’t with the way Billy was holding onto him.

“‘Course, Sweet Thing.” Billy pulled out until just the head of his cock was inside Steve, and then rammed back in, using Steve’s hips to move him along Billy’s dick like a little fucktoy.

Steve was chirping every time Billy slammed him back, like the force of his ass hitting Billy’s pelvis was ripping the sounds out of him.

He screamed when he came, two times in quick succession. He squeezed around Billy, got him nice and close. 

Billy grabbed above Steve’s knees, sliding them back until Steve was flat on his stomach, Billy lying completely on top of him. He forced his knot inside his hot little hole, allowing it to swell and catch.

They were locked together as Billy came, spilling out a lot of spunk into Steve, making him cry out weekly into the pillow as he came one final time.

They lay for a moment, just catching their breath. Billy’s knots took a while to deflate when Steve was involved, and he found being on their knees for the duration of the wait was painful.

But from here, he could kiss Steve’s neck, could run soft hands up his sides.

“How you doin’, Sugar?” Steve hummed, sated and content.

“Real good, Bill.” The only times he was even borderline coherent during his what was when he was knotted, full and happy, the haze of hormones drifting off for a little bit. “Thanks for bein’ here.”

Billy kissed his neck some more, Steve gave a tired chirp. Billy purred.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

[livlepretre]

tysm for all ur FE updates!!! i'm really excited for elijah's introduction in this dynamic. i feel like he's just as acquainted with elena's morally complex nature as klaus's since, after all, he was the first one she ever lured in and daggered (call-back to that scene was GREAT btw). i'm just curious how you view elena/elijah's dynamic vs. klaus/elena's, even outside the scope of the fic, esp since they've had more canon interactios

This is an ask after my own heart, nonny! 

This is such an interesting question-- it’s true that Elijah and Elena have a lot more canon interactions to work with, although the Klaus and Elena interactions we DO have in canon are so ripe and explosive that it lends itself to a lot of speculation. 

So, here are my thoughts: 

Elena/Elijah: Elena and Elijah both operate under the false assumption that they’re both honorable people. In fact, all of the trust they build together in season 2 is based on this idea, with both of them going to great lengths to negotiate and prove themselves to the other. They both think they’re being extremely honest with the other-- the deal they make in 2x11 utterly fascinates me, because Elijah honestly asks Elena to die as her part of the deal, and she agrees??? It doesn’t sound like he tried to hide that from her at all. Now, Elena DOES dagger him, but she also proves herself to him later and is able to account for her actions. All of that combined with the insane levels of attraction between them (WHEN HE SMELLS HER AND THEN GIVES HER THAT LITTLE WAVE IN 2x08????) make for really captivating television. There’s also a lot of interesting framing going on with the camera angles-- if you look back at it, notice how often Elena is shown in mirror reflections during her early scenes with Elijah-- all the time. What a great call back to how he sees her not just as herself, but as her role as the doppelganger. I do think he BEGINS to see her as herself as he gets to know her, especially by 2x19, but that takes time. 

Well. The crux of it all is that Elena goes through with her side of the deal-- the deal on which their entire relationship is based-- going to her death, losing her aunt whom Elijah fails to protect-- even though doing so was HIS part of the bargain-- and then Elijah is the one who breaks his word when he decides not to kill Klaus. This is the first sign we have that actually Elijah isn’t honorable at all; he thinks that he is, but really, he’s as selfish as his siblings. I don’t really think Elena ever forgives him for this. We see in season 3 that she still really is attracted to Elijah, and that she can’t quite help but be drawn in by him, but she never allows herself to really put herself in his hands again. She might feel bad about conspiring to kill him with the rest of his family in 3x14 and 3x15... but she also doesn’t hesitate. And she doesn’t exactly confess what she’s done, either. She just gets caught. I also don’t think that Elijah’s letter to her did anything to smooth over the wreck they’d made of their relationship/unspoken attraction to each other. The way Elena recites it back to him in season 4 says it all about how much she dwelled on his words, but it also implies that she’s still hurt and angry about it all all of that time later. I think she had this really powerful, idealized image of Elijah, and her disillusionment with him is profound. 

Meanwhile, Elena is also on a path throughout seasons 2 & 3 of discovering that she’s not who she thought she’d grow up to be. She is definitely more honorable than Elijah when they meet, and she means to keep her word. But Elena’s story is that she’s an orphan with no parental/mentor guidance influencing her in a positive and moral way; instead, she has a 26 year old aunt who means well but is totally in the dark about what’s really going on and pretty much in over her head, and maybe Alaric, who shouldn’t count as a good influence because, well, look at his life, look at his choices. And she has the Salvatores. The greatest influences upon her. Damon has the greatest part in tipping her away from the straight and narrow path, to getting her sense of right and wrong to slowly unravel until she gets to a place such as 2x05, when she watches Damon eat the deputies and she doesn’t bat an eyelash (how far she’s come from 1x07 when she slapped Damon and called him out!). I MORE than suspect that the infamous Elijah-daggering at the lake house was a Damon/Elena collaboration. But even Stefan, who the show frames as so stalwart and honorable, is still a terrifying vampire with ultimately little concern for human life. He still hurts people off and on throughout seasons 1 & 2, or doesn’t particularly have a problem with it when Damon does. I mean, do you see Stefan crying over what Damon did to Caroline in season 1? It’s inconceivable from a human view point. But that’s the point. They’re not human, and they’re the greatest influences in Elena’s life. No small part of Bonnie’s horror with the Salvatores is because she watches Elena slowly turn down this dark path with those two leading Elena by the hand-- human Elena, who should never cross through the veil into the shadow. 

She’s still in the process of straying from that path-- from her honorable self-- when Elijah meets her. By the time they encounter each other in season 3, she’s already left all of that behind. She stabs people in the back when they trust her. She negotiates and gives her word only to double cross as soon as the moment is right, and she doesn’t seem to lose very much sleep over it. Elijah’s issue is that he cannot see that in Elena-- he wants to see her as who she was when he met her-- who Katerina and probably who Tatia was-- as a miracle that he desires but doesn’t quite dare to touch-- but he is incapable of seeing that his betrayal of her at the sacrifice was probably the last straw that killed whatever innocence was left in Elena. 

I think the attraction and the yearning is always going to be there between them, but it’s so embittered, especially from Elena’s point of view, that it’s hard to say whether they would be able to work past that unless Elijah suddenly learned some actual introspection skills. 

Elena/Klaus: I’ve had to think a while about this dynamic to answer the question of how this relationship is as directly compared to Elena/Elijah. Obviously they both have the history and repetition element, of the dead lover whose face keeps reiterating through time-- what a dreadful and terrifying idea, honestly. Except where Elijah is almost afraid to even touch Elena (he SO desires her, but never ever acts on it), Klaus touches Elena all. the. time. There’s a real possessiveness to his relationship with her-- notice how he holds her as he devours her; how during the Reckoning he’s always physically close to her, leaning into her space, touching her-- whereas Elijah really physically backs off from Elena when he confirms her identity, Klaus comes closer. 

This is interesting because I’ve realized in thinking about this relationship, and what Klaus and Elena potentially have in common, that what they really share is their isolation-- their loneliness. Klaus explicitly states that this is why he desires Elena-- to make hybrids, so he won’t be alone anymore (Rebekah mocks him for it, but there it is). Elena, meanwhile, is at her most alone in season 3-- everyone walks away from her there, for reasons she has no control over. This is never really used as a point to bring them together as characters, but I find it really interesting as a possibility for connection. 

Another thing that really interests me is that Elena often tries to negotiate with Klaus the way she would with Elijah-- and mostly, it fails spectacularly. Klaus recognizes in Elena that she is a schemer and a liar-- because he is too. What’s fascinating though is that, just like Elijah, he tends to treat her as an equal in these conversations-- even if he doesn’t want to play. He doesn’t tend to treat with the other characters in this way, and that gives Elena an intriguingly special status there. 

In canon we really don’t have a ton to work with to talk about the Klaus/Elena dynamic-- it’s all potential. The idea of fate being so strong and impossible to avoid-- that in that sense, they’re almost warped soul mates?; the powerful fire imagery surrounding them (the only time Elena’s elemental coding switches from water to fire is with Klaus); the chemistry and attraction that bubbled over in all of their scenes, especially in the early days; the fact that she is just so constantly challenging him and wrecking him at every turn? Klaus’s big problem is that no one is his equal, and yet... here is Elena. Human Elena, whose reasoning is as warped as Klaus’s by season 3, who somehow keeps scrambling up to play against Original vampires and witches and all sorts of creatures who should be able to crush her and yet, she keeps besting them. That’s some potent stuff to work with. I tend to think that at the end of the day, Klaus actually understands Elena much better than Elijah did, because his view of her isn’t really muddied by idealism and instead really takes into account her more tarnished nature. My only regret is that the showrunners obviously feared ever really exploring Klaus x Elena x Elijah (EVEN THOUGH THEY COMPLETELY SET IT UP) because they felt that Stefan x Elena x Damon was already as much as the show could handle (it wasn’t-- we should have done both, obviously). 

[callmehopeless]

Hello hello....Ive been Thinking about Werwolf!clyde with his female mate for this weekly holiday. What if his mate was on the peak of her fertility (cycle wise) and what if it threw clyde into a rut? How would he act? Would love to hear your Ideas about this and maybe they include knots and/or our beloved Monster f. ❣💕

OKAY SO I HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS A GREAT DEAL

And my answer is: it entirely depends on whether his mate is a werewolf or not

So I’m going to treat you to the two separate scenarios here. Under cut because this is...depravity

SCENARIO #1: HUMAN MATE WITH MY BORKY BOY

You would smell abso-fucking-lutely amazing to him - so good and so much that he’d start to feel borderline insane, pounding into you and moaning all of this absolutely depraved filth to you. Telling you how yes: this one’s going to be the one, going to be that one time he’ll knot you so hard you’ll carry a whole litter of his pups. You’re so ripe with being ready for him and he’s going to give you whatever you want - every bit, every drop of him.

He’d keep you tangled up in his bed and only let you leave to use the bathroom or quickly shower - everything else he’d growl at you for, insisting he’ll cook, he’ll clean, he’ll keep you safe. Of course, he can’t stay away for long enough to do many of those things; but if he does, he’ll watch the door like a hawk to ensure you’re staying nice and warm for him, nice and safe.

He’d keep fucking you right the way through every knot; just rutting against you as you sleep, or do whatever else you have to do. He won’t get a wink of it himself until he’s way too spent to keep going: passing out with his cock throbbing inside you, huffing every time it spills more cum deep into you.

After that period ends, you’d be very sore, very tired, and very loved. 

But also probably ready to actually go outside and get some fucking fresh air.

SCENARIO #2: YOU’RE BOTH WEREWOLVES

Ohhhhh boyyyyyy.

This would happen every few months (or pretty on-and-off in the spring) and so you’d probably plan for the chance it did happen by setting up the den for you both.

Mating like that is just...wild and insane and so intoxicating. Usually, making love to Clyde is this steady thing of reverence and love, but during those time periods it’s almost like you’re constantly halfway between worship and tearing eachother up.

You’d bite and bruise eachother, growling and scrambling for the walls and pinning as you tumble around; too turned on to stop the animalistic noises and mindless movements of your bodies together. He’d fuck you so hard, and you’d be so soft and wet under him: you both unable to speak or do anything but make these desperate sounds and bite one another’s skin to dispense with the painful urges.

You wouldn’t stay in one form for long - your bodies both shifting at the same time, moving between forms together as you both try to find exactly the right balance at the right time. Shifting during this time period wouldn’t be a painful affair; it’d be simple relief, drawing you both together to hit the angles you need to be at.

From snarling masses of rippling muscle, to nails on tender skin, to whimpers through soft muzzles; eventually the knot would hold, and you’d both be sated for the time being. Licking eachother, nuzzling, kissing bruises and sleeping while joined. Your dreams would be purely of fucking: you’d wake to already find yourselves rubbing against one another, seeking friction and release.

After that few days, you’d both feel fucking exhausted. Covered in bruises and bites, shredded feathers and blankets and bloodshot eyes. Glowing, though: totally glowing, feeling the most in love you’ve ever felt.

It’s very intense, but you both knew what you were getting into.

[tangledcassandra]

Cassandra is Saporian: An Analysis

I’ve seen this theory tossed around a bit, but I think we need to take a good and serious look at it from all angles.

First off, what would this add to the plot?

Well, we know Saporia was formerly an enemy of Corona, until the two united when their leaders fell in love. Shortly after, the Separatists of Saporia were formed, a splinter group dedicated to taking back Corona for Saporia.

So, making Cassandra Saporian would give her a good reason to take the Moonstone, using it as the means to take back Corona for her ancestors.

Has that always been her true goal? No, absolutely not, and that’s not the focus of this post. But I will come back around to her motives for taking the stone. Hang on.

The ONLY time Saporia is mentioned in the show is in “Under Wraps”, which, as you may recall, is a Cassandra heavy episode. While that could be a very loose hint at her being Saporian, I think we’re missing the larger piece of foreshadowing that is presented. Something that Andrew tosses out right before his defeat.

"Oh, Cassandra. Saporia will rise again, and we'll have you to thank for it."

And sure, that seems like an empty threat on Andrew’s part. But the writers of the show have known for a long time what was being planned for the end of season 2 and the upcoming season 3. When you consider that, it’d be easy to drop in a forgettable line for a (much) later reveal.

But, there’s more.

The Saporian crest on Andrew’s necklace is used as the catalyst for Xavier to reveal information about the Separatists of Saporia. Two reasons why this is significant.

Why go through all the trouble of elaborating on Saporia and its history for one episode? Why focus so heavily on the backstory of a character that only appears once? Sure, the lore at the beginning of the episode was relevant for explaining the Day of Hearts holiday. But the show took it even further, not only detailing who the Separatists of Saporia are, but ALSO revealing their crest. Why was ALL of that so important for a single episode?

Except...

We see the crest a second time, 27 episodes later.

The potion book Cassandra reads from in “Rapunzel: Day One”. Now, the RTA Crew could have chosen to put anything, or nothing, on the cover of that book. But they specifically chose the Separatists of Saporia emblem. Why?

Well, I guess we can assume this stuff belonged to the Separatists, or some traveling salesman/magician (whoever the cart formerly belonged to) came by it through unknown means.

And yet, it found its way into Cassandra’s hands.

Now, this detail is completely trivial, and easy to miss, just as Andrew’s line could easily be forgotten. But it does ever so subtly add another point connecting Cassandra to Saporia.

But what else do we know about Cassandra?

We know she’s adopted.

Cassandra and Eugene had a brief bonding moment about being orphans in “Cassandra v. Eugene”. Now, that could have just been a throwaway moment, a nice ‘something in common’ between the two of them. But Cassandra could have EASILY been Captain’s biological daughter. I mean, why not? Why did that happen to be the thing they had in common? And why did Cassandra shut down when Eugene asked if she ever wondered what her parents were like?

Maybe she already knows.

But, that’s completely irrelevant.

Cassandra was raised in Corona, she considers herself a citizen of Corona, and she’s been striving her entire life to succeed her father as Captain of the Guard of Corona. She’s loyal to the kingdom and especially to Rapunzel, regardless of whether or not she knows she’s Saporian. And it wouldn’t even matter to Rapunzel, Eugene, or anyone else. On the off chance she knows, she’s been shown to literally not care at all based on the fact that it’s never come up in conversation.

So again, whether or not she knows, it’s irrelevant to this theory.

More importantly, for us, the audience, we don’t know where Cassandra came from. We don’t know her parents or heritage. It’s a small loose end the show has not yet touched on. And maybe it wouldn’t even be important, if we hadn’t just learned about Eugene’s origin and parentage in “Destinies Collide”.

Now, Cassandra is the only one of the main three whose background is still shrouded in so much mystery. She’s guarded, she doesn’t talk about her feelings, and she knows Rapunzel and Eugene BOTH can’t keep secrets. Rapunzel is a “sharer”, and Eugene just has a big mouth in general.

So, getting back on track. We actually have 3 pretty solid pieces of foreshadowing evidence for Cassandra being born into the Separatists of Saporia. She’s an orphan, Andrew’s quote, the crest popping up again in her hands. All very subtle, and yet, all connected. Very interesting.

Okay, the Moonstone. I said we’d come back to that.

Cassandra is Saporian: An Analysis: Part 2

The door.

We all know this is going to be relevant to Season 3 in some way, but just like Cassandra’s past, what she saw in there has been withdrawn from the audience. For now. We can almost certainly say whatever she saw or experienced convinced her to take the Moonstone, or at least, planted a seed to get her thinking about it.

“I believe everybody's got a destiny.“

Now, this is funny, because we really haven’t heard Cassandra talk about destiny a whole lot during the series. She’s been pretty adamant that she is on this journey to help Rapunzel fulfill her destiny. But here, she says, “All in the name of fulfilling destiny,” and then goes on to elaborate with the quote above. This whole journey she’s put a lot of emphasis on this being Rapunzel’s destiny, but here, she kind of leaves that out. Kind of leaves it more open and vague and a little bit ominous.

Let’s roll back to right after the door closes on Cassandra and this imagery of Zhan Tiri is shown. Maybe it’s nothing, or maybe, more likely, it’s something!

Now, we’re really going to stretch into theory territory, but it’s all going to tie together. Let’s talk about what could have been behind that door!

What if Zhan Tiri convinced Cassandra that her destiny was to bring about the rise of Saporia once again? Think about it. Cassandra has consistently been overlooked in Corona. She wants nothing more than to be on the guard, and she’s willing to earn her place the same as anyone else. If you recall, Eugene managed to pass the guard test in a few days. Cassandra, on the other hand, has been training since she was 6 years old, and her father still won’t allow her to join. Captain is not overprotective by any stretch of the imagination; there is literally no good reason Cassandra shouldn’t be on the guard. (Other than the fact that she’s a woman.)

Not only that, but her friends have shown very little appreciation for all the times she’s saved their lives. She is so underappreciated, it wouldn’t be difficult to convince her to turn on them. (Except for Cassandra’s undying loyalty to Rapunzel.) Plus, with Cassandra feeling less like Rapunzel’s best friend and more like a servant to the princess, she’s not doing so great. Rapunzel said in the past (multiple times) that she trusted Cassandra, and yet, as of late, she hasn’t shown that to still be true. Cassandra is in a vulnerable state, ripe for Zhan Tiri to take hold.

The connection to Saporia? A very convenient way to tip the unsteady emotional iceberg of Cassandra’s heart.

Wait, wait, wait. Didn’t I already say any connection Cassandra had to Saporia wasn’t important to her?

Right, that’s absolutely correct. It’s not important to her, at all. But it IS important to the story. It IS important as a plot device.

Zhan Tiri is an extremely powerful force that has been constantly looming over the heads of our heroes throughout most of the series, popping up every now and again to remind us, oh yeah, there’s a big bad coming. The final boss will be in town shortly, even though our heroes have barely been able to hold their own against his minions. Are they ready to face the ultimate evil? Haha, no.

Okay, we’re in the home stretch of this theory.

Cassandra being Saporian gives Zhan Tiri an in. A wedge, to drive between Cassandra and her friends and convince her that taking the Moonstone is her destiny. To get revenge on everyone who has treated her badly. I mean, that’d be great, wouldn’t it?

Not for Cassandra.

Cassandra, who loves Rapunzel. Cassandra, who, MULTIPLE TIMES in not just the series, but in the final episode of season 2, saved Rapunzel’s life. She grabbed Rapunzel when the gondola was falling. She pushed Rapunzel out of the way of a flying ax. She helped defend Rapunzel from the ghosts. Even after everything that happened on their journey, making sure Rapunzel is safe has CONSISTENTLY been Cassandra’s TOP priority.

But you see, Cassandra wants Zhan Tiri to believe she’s on his side. She has all the right motives for taking the Moonstone, so she could easily convince him that her actions are genuine. She wants to destroy him once and for all. But, until he revealed that she could take the Moonstone and use its power, she didn’t have the means. Of course, Cassandra needs Zhan Tiri (and the audience!) to believe that she has betrayed her friends. She needs him to trust her. She needs him to let her get close to him.

So why not tell her friends her plan? Why not let Rapunzel know? First off, nothing would convince Rapunzel to let anyone else take that risk for her. No one else would be allowed to bear her burden. Remember the foreshadowing that touching the Moonstone might obliterate Rapunzel?

“Freebird“, Rapunzel: “These rocks are my destiny, and that's terrifying. What if they lead to somewhere I'm never supposed to come back from?“

“Destinies Collide“, Adira: “While I'm certain bringing the Sundrop to the Moonstone will neutralize its threat, I'm not sure what will happen to you.“

Comforting!

Secondly, I must repeat, Rapunzel and Eugene BOTH can’t keep secrets. Rapunzel is a “sharer”, and Eugene just has a big mouth in general. There’s NO WAY Cassandra could let them in on any kind of plan to take the Moonstone. No way she could let them know she planned to risk her own safety to defeat Zhan Tiri. No way she could convince them to trust her to do this.

Too long, didn’t read: Cassandra being Saporian gives Zhan Tiri an opportunity to divide our heroes by convincing Cassandra to grab the Moonstone so that she has the power to take back Corona in the name of Saporia.

Lastly, keep in mind that Cassandra never actually says what her destiny is.

“I'm fulfilling my destiny!“

Okay, great. And that is?... Is it betraying her friends? Preventing the Sundrop and Moonstone from uniting? Opening the portal for Zhan Tiri? Taking back Corona for Saporia? Grabbing the Moonstone so it doesn't destroy Rapunzel? We literally don't know.

And I think that’s great.

Cassandra’s actions at the end of season 2 left us with a beautiful cliffhanger, hungry for more. It left us with questions, concerns, and a slew of ideas about what could be coming next. It left us with a few final parting words that ultimately have us stunned and bewildered.

But let’s get one thing straight. Cassandra isn’t. Cassandra has not betrayed her friends. Not permanently, anyway. It may seem like that now, but if you’ve been keeping up with the series, you know how much she cares about Rapunzel. You’ve seen that look in her eyes. How soft she gets when Rapunzel smiles at her. You know that she’d give her life in place of Rapunzel’s. Whatever Cassandra is doing, whatever she’s planning, is for the greater good. She’s not evil. Never has been. Never will be.

So have a little faith. Not just in Cassandra. But in the hardworking creatives who put their hearts and souls into telling this story. Who have set up clues throughout the series to keep us guessing and make the show interesting. Cassandra is a main character, a main protagonist, even, who has had more screen time than Rapunzel’s own love interest. Our girl’s not evil. She just has yet-to-be-revealed plans.

[lassieposting]

I adore your thoughts about deamon culture and upbringing. Something that’s always bugged me is that we don’t really get an insight into the culture and layout of heaven and hell or the non-humanness that makes angles and deamons. Please give more thoughts!!!

OH BOY, DO I

DEMON CULTURE HEADCANONS COMING RIGHT UP 

[1] My personal headcanon is that devil was originally a Lilim word that basically meant “warlord” - the leader of a clan with his or her own territory - and there were thousands of them, because demons lived in warring clans. Every clan had a _devil, _and they all considered themselves the ultimate authority and were constantly fighting for power. When Lucifer staged a coup and took over one of the strongest clans in the Ninth Circle, he basically went on a conquering spree, up to the point that there is now only one devil; all the other clan leaders have bent the knee to him. There’s probably either a Lilim way of distinguishing between A Devil (a warlord) and The Devil (Lucifer, King of Hell), or it’s become sort of an archaic term used only to refer to Lucifer and another name has become commonplace for your bog-standard warlord. The word then made its way to Earth both through Lucifer himself and through other demons before he outlawed possession, and developed its modern meaning from there. 

More under the cut - this is long as fuck. It’s becoming a habit.

GENETICS: 

- Demons live in one of the most inhospitable, treacherous environments of any dimension in the known multiverse. They’ve been shaped by the need to survive in their habitat. 

- Demons in general have a much higher heat resistance than humans, as well as far better low-light vision and enhanced speed, strength and endurance. 

- Hell has different habitats the same way Earth does, though, and the demons who live in the Ninth Circle (the part of Hell we see in the show, the part where Lucifer’s palace is) would have different adaptations to the demons who’ve evolved to live in the swampy marshland of the Sixth Circle (where Maze was born). 

- Demons are an R-coded species, so they have large numbers of babies, less parental care, a short gestation period and a very low survival-to-adulthood rate.  

- Because their babies have such a low survival rate, demons have very little parental attachment and they don’t form family units the way humans do (i.e. child raised by biologically related caregivers, close relationship between parents and child). 

CHILDHOOD:

- Baby demons are born already equipped with fantastic low-light vision, a full set of needle-sharp teeth, and the ability to get up and move around very shortly after birth. They’re not wholly independent - they don’t learn to talk or develop fine motor/dexterity skills until they’re older - but they are very much born armed and dangerous, which they need to be because… 

- They can and do eat their siblings in the nest, like sharks. Cannibalism is fucking rife in Hell. A large chunk of spawn are lost in their first year to fratricide/sororicide. It’s just seen as weeding out the weaklings. 

- In most clans, the spawn are raised communally in a creche run by designated nest-minders; these are usually the weakest members of the clan who would not be any use as warriors. Raising the young during their first few years of life is a fairly low-status position in society, but it does ensure that those weak demons will be fed, housed and protected - nobody wants to have to take over their job, so it’s worthwhile to keep them alive. 

- Demon spawn are…little demons. A large part of why Lucifer doesn’t like children is because of extended exposure to spawn. They completely lack empathy and social skills, so they’re loud, they bite, and a large chunk of nest-minders’ time is spent separating them when they try to kill each other. They won’t develop logic, critical thinking or their (still limited) sense of empathy until they’re a lot older. 

- Contrary to what some might believe, demons do have affectionate nicknames for their young - the sort of thing a warrior might call his trainee, or a nest-minder might call their favourite charge. The English equivalent would probably be kiddo or something, but they’d translate literally as “spawn” or “offspring”. There’s a sort of implication there that you care enough about this kid to see them as family; they can probably rely on you to protect them if they’re in danger. 

ADOLESCENCE:

- Demons don’t have a long childhood, and mostly they learn a trade by apprenticing under a professional. A would-be warrior is trained by an experienced warrior; a kid with a talent for art might apprentice under a leathercrafter; if you’re particularly intelligent and politically savvy you might get lucky and learn from your clan’s devil, if you manage to impress them. 

- A juvenile who wants to be a warrior (like Maze, for example) goes through a series of incredibly dangerous trials to become a fully-fledged adult warrior of their clan. It’s sort of like living in the Hunger Games, but, you know. Permanently. 

* Around the onset of puberty, at around 10 or 11 years old, they’re given a simple weapon and some supplies and sent out into the world by themselves to find something useful to bring back to their clan, to prove that they’re worth the time and effort it will take to train them. 

At this point, they have no formal training. They’ve got a decade or so of viciously scrapping with other youngsters in the creche for food, but they’re expected to get by mostly on their wits, their viciousness, and their willingness to kill to survive. 

There are hundreds of things that can kill a young demon alone in Hell. Demons from other clans. Heat exhaustion. Feral hellhounds. Dehydration. Volcanic eruption. Manticore. Harpy. Dragon. There’s even a chance another kid from their own clan will panic and kill first, ask questions later. 

What they bring back can be any of a number of things. Maybe some priceless gemstones that can be traded for commodities not native to their area of Hell. Maybe information about a territory ripe for overtaking. Maybe spoils taken from dead enemies from a clan yours is at war with. Whatever it is, it needs to be something the leaders of your clan will benefit from, or they might send you back out to find something better. Maze brought back Lucifer.

How impressive your gift is generally determines who you apprentice under; the kids who brought back the most impressive things will usually get sent to the clan’s top warriors. 

Only 30% or so of the kids sent out into the world will come back. The ones who didn’t clearly wouldn’t have survived training, so it wouldn’t have been worth the effort to train them in the first place. 

They’ll spend the next ten years or so (maybe more, maybe less) in training. Their mentor will teach them to fight with a whole load of different weapons, how to hunt, how to torture a captive, how to plan a battle, etc. The ones with leadership potential, training under the clan’s War Chief, also learn - on the DL, because nobody wants to get murdered - how to deal with your devil when they’re being an asshole, and how to bring them round to your way of thinking when their plan for a war clashes with yours. 

In bigger clans, at the end of their training, each warrior’s trainees get put in an arena to fight to the death. Of each class, only the last one standing actually becomes a warrior. Despite the immense amount of lives lost in childhood, demons breed so prolifically that plenty survive to adulthood. 

ADULTHOOD:

- Adult demons often wear identification marks, usually on their faces, to show whereabouts they’re from, which clan they belong to, and what rank they are if they have one. Some clans (like Maze’s) use face paint, others prefer tattoos, still others use scarification or branding. You don’t get to wear them until you’ve proved yourself, so it’s a great honour for a warrior to finally get their stripes.

- This helps establish social order - who you can and can’t flirt with, who you should and shouldn’t pick on, etc. If you’re a humble furs trader, you really don’t want to start a fight with a visiting devil over a casual insult to your work; you’ll get smoked. But fortunately for you, her face markings tell you who she is, so you keep your mouth shut. 

- Demons are promiscuous as fuck and don’t really go in for monogamy. It happens occasionally, but it’s definitely not the social norm. While every demon spawn knows who their mother is, it’s very common to have multiple potential fathers. 

- Demons can and do fall in love. They’re not very open about it, and there’s no way to say “I love you” in Lilim. Any demonstration of love is a demonstration of weakness, and in Hell any weakness will be used against you. Long term relationships between demons tend to look a lot like Lucifer and Maze - ride-or-die friends who hang out naked and have each other’s back against outside danger regardless of the issues they’re having with each other. 

OLD AGE:

- A demon who’s too old to battle anymore but was once a mighty warrior can still command a huge amount of respect; many become advisors to the clan devil - especially if he’s young; Lucifer had to lean on very experienced older advisors as a young king consolidating his power - or train the most promising up-and-comers. 

- Demons can and do grieve, but it’s usually expressed as a roaring rampage of revenge against whoever killed your ally. If something happened to Maze, for example, Lucifer wouldn’t cry or get sentimental; he’d cause so much carnage they’d be talking about it for millennia. By demon standards that would be the most touching tribute he could give her tbh. 

- After someone dies, their clan usually eats them - in a world where the creatures you eat can kill you just as easily as be killed by you, meat is meat and a meal you don’t have to work for is a gift. (This is why Mom asked if humans eat their own when She first came to Earth. Hell was a horrible surprise for both of them for a variety of reasons, and this is definitely one of them.) To humans, this is horrifying; to demons, it’s not even something to bat an eyelid at. 

- Devils don’t often get old. They live in a cutthroat world of power games and ambition, and everyone wants their spot. Devils get to the top by being especially cunning or vicious or physically powerful, and once the thing keeping them there starts to run down, they’re often killed and replaced by someone stronger. It’s just as common for your allies to turn on you as your enemies, so you’re watching your back constantly, never truly safe, always reading into every interaction for signs of danger. There’s a reason Lucifer doesn’t trust easy. As an angel he’s stronger than practically all demons, but Hell-forged steel can kill him; all it would take is for him to let his guard down just a little bit too much at the wrong moment. 

[candyshua]

It’s a Long Way Home | Chapter 2

Pairing: Joshua x Minghao x Reader

Synopsis: It was dark, and then it was light. You’re finally lucid. After 15 years of not being conscious, you wake up in a desolate and post-apocalyptic earth where infected flesh-eating beings roam the streets. Soon enveloped into a mysterious group of survivors, you consistently wonder who they are. But most importantly, who are you?

Genre: Heavy angst, some fluff here and there

Warnings: Gore, bad language, physical & verbal abuse

Word Count: 2.5k

"Who are you, Y/N?" The stoic man asked you. He had a porcelain complex to him. His cheekbones were high and defined, with slick black hair that was gelled back. He wore a white lab coat, and his hands were folded on the table as his icy blue eyes bore into you like a snake staring at its prey. The question you had been asked was supposed to be responded with an automatic answer, and you knew better than to try and rebel. You were coaxed into being what they wanted you to be, so you reluctantly spat the words,

"I am Y/N, patient zero, and your loyal subordinate." You boomed emptily, the repeated and hollow words falling from your chapped lips like poison. You looked into the man's eyes again, wanting to test him. At this point, you had nothing to lose.

"Good, now back to sleep." The Doctor ordered, and suddenly everything went black.

The pain was horrendous. The overwhelming force ripped you from the depths of reality, into another painful dimension. Minghao was holding you desperately, constantly asking if you were okay. You didn't know if you could open your eyes, for the ringing in your pain ridden head was too great. Your heavy breathing soon slowed within a few minutes, while Minghao continued to hold you frantically.

You forced your eyes to open, and Minghao's deep brown ones looked at you in a concerned manner. You hadn't been greeted with these irises before, only the cold sarcastic ones, but these orbs were filled with worry. "I'm okay." You managed to mumble, unclasping yourself from his hold while forcing yourself to stand up. Suddenly, the realization of what just happened hit you.

You had remembered something.

The situation seemed somewhat familiar to the one you were in now, being asked questions by a man that demeaned you.

"What the fuck happened?" Minghao asked worriedly, and now it was your turn to laugh.

"Still don't believe me?" You daunted cockily, tilting your head to the side with a smug smirk etched on to your lips.

-

You were forced to go to the community's "clinic" to get checked up on. Their doctor was a young med student, who managed to flee the city when the outbreak first started. He went by the name of Seungkwan, and he was a very sweet and nervous young man.

You had found out that the community you were currently residing in was named "Fort Lockwood". The name came from the street the community was, a mere one way road with a decent amount of houses on both sides. You had also learned that Minghao wasn't the leader, but he was high in command. The leader was Joshua, who appointed several other people to be in charge of certain things. He was just in charge of making sure everything was in shape, that his citizens were safe, and he dealt with the serious problems along with the other leaders. Minghao was in charge of the weaponry, and he trained new citizens on how to fight, use a gun, knife, etc.

You learned that the short-tempered Junhui was in charge of gathering supplies, and often went on escapades for a few days by himself just to come back with a van full of goodies. Hansol, the soft boy you took an immediate liking to, was in charge of defense, and making sure the walls were maintained regularly and that "the infected" were led away from their base.

Seungkwan was in charge of medicine, and the health of the citizens. You kind of scoffed at the mention of how many men were in power, until you heard about Margo and Cleo. Margo was a teacher, in charge of educating the youth of Fort Lockwood. Cleo was apparently "a complete technology wiz" and got the power working in the community again. So, she was in charge of that, along with trying to communicate with the army through the radios she miraculously fixed and walkie-talkies.

Another woman whom you had yet to meet by the name of Sonny was a botanist. She was in charge of the gardens and growing enough food to feed their small community. About five hundred people lived in Fort Lockwood, some families living by themselves, and other people camping together in houses. It was a lot to take in, especially with your limited experience, so you were left to relax in Joshua, Minghao, Junhui, and Seungkwan's house until you were further situated into a better living situation. You pondered the thought of escaping, but the possibilities of you doing so successfully were quite slim.

Not only that, the community was nice. People worked together to help rebuild what was lost, and you appreciated that. You appreciated their will, and their determination. Although you didn't know yourself well enough yet, you knew that you lacked hope for some reason.

Then you found yourself thinking about the man with the icy blue eyes, and the memory that had transpired. You knew it happened, there was a certain clarity in the situation that you relived which led you to believe that it was pure and real. You sighed, the detrimental day kicking in, and soon you felt like you wanted to cry. Humans cry after under a lot of stress, right?

But, your agony was no match to your stubborn side. You refused to let the tears fall, for they symbolized vulnerability. You don't know why you thought that, you just did. And, to put it simply, you were fucking confused. Waking up in a post-apocalyptic world can take quite a toll on somebody, nonetheless somebody with no memories before what had just happened.

So, you just sat on the mattress splattered on the floor of the cold attic you were staying in. You assumed autumn was here, the season fresh and ripe. You then decided to look through your bag, which was stripped of its gun, but nothing else. You had some clothes in there which looked like they'd fit you, along with a lighter, some rope, matches, ammunition, a water bottle, and a blanket. As you got to know yourself throughout the day, you figured out that you were actually quite intelligent, but just kept in the dark. So, the bag filled with all the supplies a girl like you could need was somewhat baffling, which only added to the list of questions you couldn't answer.

You soon heard a knock creaks in the wooden stairs that led up to the attic, which led to a knock on your door. You came face to face with Joshua, the leader of the grand scheme. "Hello." He said somewhat sweetly. His voice was soft, and it contrasted with his rugged looking figure. He had blackish brown hair that fell down his forehead, with his ears poking out slightly. His angled brown eyes were kind of distant, but sage. He was skinny, ragged, yet muscular - similar to Minghao in that sense. He wore a black jacket and brown cargo pants, with an old pair of brown boots aged with experience. His eyebrows were slanted naturally, which gave an intimidating vibe. If you were different, you would've considered yourself intimidated.

But his soft voice contrasted with his scary exterior. His voice was something you could almost drown in, it was rich and thick like honey, but smooth and intoxicating. "Hi." You muttered, returning the intense eye contact he displayed to you.

"Minghao told me what happened...I may seem like an asshole, forcing you to stay here-"

"You don't seem like one - you are one. But continue." You interrupted ripely, your feisty attitude kicking in. Instead of getting pissed, he gave you a lopsided smile which oozed with something you'd consider respect.

"Anyway, I hope you know it's just for the safety of my people. You see, many people want to be a part of our community, or they want to destroy it. But, our location is quite hidden if you haven't noticed, it's a street many miles away from the city, in a town that used to be a peaceful suburb. But, I believe that you're alone and that you have no group. But, I want you to stay here: where it's the closest thing to safe in this world." Joshua explained, inching his way closer to you, which resulted in him sitting on the wooden floor of the dusty attic, directly across from you.

"But why?"

"Because, Y/N, you saved our lives. Usually, lone survivors would let us die as a distraction for the infected, so they could get away safely. What you did was not normal, but highly appreciated. I'm sorry that not everybody showed their gratitude, but they were still processing what had just happened. They're much calmer and more thankful now." Joshua had rasped, and you listened intently.

"Thank you for your kindness. I know my explanation seems like a complete lie, but I promise you it's not. The truth is, when I passed out when talking to Minghao, I believe a memory had came to me. And, that memory scared me." You huffed, finding it odd that you were admitting your fear to a man that you barely knew. "I also take back the thing about you being an asshole, you're actually quite nice." You had joked hoping to lighten the mood.

"I assumed so. But, can you tell me about the memory?" Joshua had requested, a sliver of a smile creeping onto his face.

"I was talking to a man, he looked like a doctor. He asked me a question, and I knew what to say. I had told him I was his subordinate, and that I was 'Patient Zero'. I think I was much younger than I am now in that memory, but he said something along the lines of 'Go back to sleep', and everything went blank. Then, I woke up." You lamented confusedly, your head fuzzy and tired.

"There are many things in this world that we cannot explain, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt and trust you, Y/N. Please don't break my trust." Joshua said, his last sentence more longing and desperate than intimidating. You nodded automatically, under his hypnotizing gaze. Soon, he led you downstairs to dinner, where you were face to face with some familiar faces.

The atmosphere was quiet when you walked into the kitchen, where Seungkwan, Minghao, and Junhui were sitting. They were eating what looked like steak, until you realized that it was deer.

You ate it ravenously. You didn't realize how empty your stomach was until you smelled the food, and you downed it within minutes. Minghao was amused at this, and Joshua merely smiled. Hell, even Junhui scoffed a bit.

Soon, everybody laughed, which lightened the mood severely. Then, you were being assaulted with various questions from everybody.

"Where'd you learn how to fight like that?" Junhui had asked, and you merely shrugged. You also had extensive knowledge in the field of medicine, the useful information placed in your head mysteriously.

"I'm better." Minghao deadpanned, and you just scoffed and rolled your eyes.

The conversation drifted on until you revealed the information that you didn't know how to wield a gun. That was Minghao's area of expertise, so you were going to be picked up by Minghao tomorrow, where he'd take you out of Fort Lockwood and teach you how to use one.

Soon, you were the one asking questions. You acquired the information that nobody knew exactly how the outbreak started, but a state of emergency was declared within 3 days, and civilization was reversed back to its old ways within a week. And then the military disappeared after six weeks, and the world truly "went to shit" according to Minghao. The "infected" went by many names, such as "stragglers", "walkers", and "lurkers". You preferred calling them infected.

Soon, dinner was finished, and you decided to take a walk around the fort to take in your surroundings. While you were just about to walk out the door, Joshua stopped you. "I'll join you." He cheekily said, and you smiled weakly.

Joshua showed you around the community, giving you an excellent and lighthearted tour. You let yourself soak in the lightness of your conversations, knowing that your upcoming days were to be filled with nothing but heavy dread. You grew quite fond of Joshua, or Josh (he preferred that nickname) and hoped that you wouldn't break his trust, either.

-

The next morning you awoke at dawn, and you assumed it was six am by the positioning of the sun (another thing you had no idea where you learned it from). You were supplied with clothes and shoes, so you changed into a somewhat heavy slick, gray jacket along with camouflaged pants. You slipped on black leather combat boots and tied your hair up in a low ponytail, due to its shortness.

All the women you had come across had short hair as well, and you assumed it was merely safer to have it. You went downstairs, and everybody was already up making breakfast. You smelled eggs.

"Where did you get eggs from?" You exclaimed, kind of excited over some stupid eggs.

"We have a farm, it's small but it gets the job done." Seungkwan humbly explained, and you nodded and took your eggs gratefully. Minghao ate next to you, going on about the danger of guns. You nodded, trying to soak in the information being rapidly spewed at you.

Soon, you were in a car with Minghao, the vehicle being supplied with various forms of guns, from rifles to pistols. Minghao drove out of Fort Lockwood, and to a very desert land of grass of the highway. It was surrounded by woods, which irked you slightly. You didn't like how anybody could be hiding in those woods, but Minghao insisted that nobody was, and you had no choice but to believe him.

Soon, you were given a breakdown on guns, how to hold them, when to shoot, how to aim, and how to disarm somebody. "I don't want you to be scared of these things. They can end your life, but they can also save it." He had prospered, in which you gulped eagerly.

To put it simply, you were a fast learner. Your aim was impeccable due to your perfect eyesight, but you were not fond of the loudness that boomed from the guns. "Can't the infected hear this?" You asked.

"They can, but we'll be out of here before they can arrive. Plus, we have silencers if it gets out of hand." He explained, and you found yourself not wanting to know what "getting out of hand" meant.

You couldn't disarm Minghao, merely because he flourished in this area, but he had struggled trying to disarm you. You had noticed that Minghao's once playful attitude was replaced with a firm, dominant one when he was teaching you. He commanded respect, and you gave it.

"I think we're done for the day. The infected will be here soon, so let's get back home." Minghao had ordered, and you hopped in the car reviewing every bit of information you had just learned.

After driving for a bit, you two came to a halt when a series of cars blocked the road. Men with guns stood smugly there, and you soon realized that the infected weren't going to be your problem.