#that these demands that his thoughts and feelings bend to everyone else's emotional needs become so disturbingly intrusive

[scoobydoodean]

I see this held up as major proof of Dean's badness, but couldn't it also be proof of Cas having faith Dean can get past anything without Cas having to change his behavior? The way it's structured the onus is on DEAN to work through it, not others to change or make amends. ---- CASTIEL: You know, Dean, he – he feels things more acutely than any human I've ever known. So it's possible he could work through this. One day, he may explode and let it all out and breathe deeply and move on.

I see what you mean in a general sense, and it's extremely possible that Cas is thinking about his own past fights with Dean and Dean forgiving him, and from the perspective of the critique you have in mind that you're refuting, I agree. But of course deancrit casgirls will forever insist that Cas has never in his life done anything harmful to Dean either accidentally or on purpose, so any time Dean might dare try to hold him accountable for anything, he's actually just making shit up and being toxic and controlling, so here Cas is just apologizing for his own abusive relationship. You can only get their take by being deliberately obtuse/disingenuous.

That said, the context of that line (from 15.13 "Destinty's Child") is Cas answering soulless Jack's question about whether Dean will eventually forgive him for murdering Mary.

CASTIEL: Hey, Jack. JACK: Cas, you know what's good about being dead? CASTIEL: Uh, as I recall, very little. JACK: Well, when you come back, you – you really get into all that life is. Hot, cold, sweet, spicy, funny, scary. CASTIEL: And are you? "Into it"? JACK: I want to be. But I don't... feel things the way I used to. Before I lost my... CASTIEL: Your soul. JACK: I used to feel things. In my bones. It was glorious, and sometimes unbearable. But I felt them. Now, I understand joy or sadness, but... I know those things aren't in me. I understand why Sam and Dean were angered by what happened to Mary... CASTIEL: By what you did to Mary. JACK: Yes. I see that I've caused them pain. And it's clear that things have changed. Especially with – with Dean. Will he ever forgive me? CASTIEL: You know, Dean, he – he feels things more acutely than any human I've ever known. So it's possible he could work through this. One day, he may explode and let it all out and breathe deeply and move on. JACK: How long will that take? CASTIEL: I don't know.

And yeah—I have seen people refer to Cas's little speech here as "condoning child abuse" and other bullshit. Because how DARE Dean not forgive soulless Jack for murdering his mother (something soulless Jack is unable to actually really acknowledge he did). I mean clearly any time someone murders your mom because she made them mad and threatened their sense of security by asking if they're okay and saying their concerning actions can’t stay a secret… That’s just natural understandable stuff! You need to forgive the person who murdered her instantly and if you don’t idk you’re kinda overreacting don’t you think? :/ I mean your mom probably deserved it kind of anyway for reading the room so wrong and talking about getting a person help. And I mean if you don't forgive the person who killed your mom or do anything trying to stop them from hurting more people you're really a child abuser... toward an adult... who murdered your mother in cold blood and is unable to even understand why it was wrong in any sense other than an intellectual one like he read it from a book... preferring to refer to it as "What happened to Mary" instead of acknowledge it as something he himself did because he was mad and felt threatened—which is what he circled back to in "Jack In The Box" too. It's only when Jack gets his soul back that he's able to actually feel true empathy, acknowledge his real actions and the gravity of them, and give an actual sincere apology. Because his soul is actually important—something this fandom refuses, by and large, to notice.

Anyway, this fandom's take on Mary's murder and soulless Jack vs. regular Jack is overwhelmingly a bag of wet third grader vomit and feces so what can one expect?

[thomasxking]

Thomas did not feel jealous of Alex at all. Hell – if he was in his brother’s position, he would have probably just bailed and let the guys fight for him to the death. That would make things easy. And if both of them ended up dying on the sandy arena…? Hell, at least that problem was dealt with and all those pesky feelings and emotions could go back to where they belonged: buried as deep as they could possibly be. But no matter how much they despised that sort of shit or believed themselves to be above and beyond such mundane notions of love and companionship… they were still affected by it. They would still fall for someone and have their entire world turned upside down in ways that none of them were ready to process. And in Thomas’ case, he had succeeded in bailing out of it before it would become too much for him to handle. Alex, however… “You know them both better than anyone.” Thomas had seen Alex with Steven and Patrick. He knew them well enough to know in what categories they fit in his brother’s personality. “Patrick is your loyal hound. He will never bite the hand that feeds him and he will always put your happiness above everything else. Even himself. He respects you and loves you and will do everything for you. That is what you always wanted, Alex. Someone to bend over when you tell them to and take it as a man.” But where was the difference between what Patrick did to what any other staff would do for Alex? The fact that no other man would ever be allowed to top the Southerner other than him? “And then you have Steven. The love of your life drives you absolutely insane every step of the way because you can’t control him. He’s every bit of a force of nature as you are.” And they were to be married in the past. “He challenges you and he keeps you on your toes and it drives you insane because he’s someone you can’t just tell him what to do.” And in a way… they were complete opposites to one another. Both sides of the same coin and both giving Alex exactly what he wanted: submission and challenge.

“Honestly, the decision is yours. If you want loyal but eventually boring because he doesn’t challenge you? Patrick. If you want to be kept on your toes all the damn time and end up exhausted because sometimes you need to be in control? Steven.” Thomas sighed and wrapped his arms around Alex as tightly as he could, wanting his brother to know that no matter what the choice would be – he would make the right one for himself. “I think deep down you already know which one you want, Alex. You just want to delay it because that means telling the other that there’s someone better out there.” Thomas knew those words were cruel in a sense but Alexander needed to be aware of the weight of his words. Of the impact, it would cause. “But in the end? What matters is YOU, big brother. Fuck everyone else. Do what is right for you and whoever ends up hurting will just have to lick their wounds and move on with their lives… although one is slightly more vengeful than the other – so have a backup plan just in case.” Peeling himself from Alex, Thomas made a somewhat disgusted expression as he stood from the ground, his eyes glancing toward his discarded phone that still had the little sex video that Jack had been kind enough to copy for him. “The fact that I saw you have sex was something that will demand some therapy. I saw things that cannot be unseen. Maybe I should watch my eyes with bleach.” There was a shiver running down his spine as Thomas waved a hand, dismissing the whole ordeal. The less he thought about it, the better. “I didn’t delete it yet because I thought you wanted a copy. So send it to your phone and delete it from mine, please. I already saw too much of you and Steven to last me for several lifetimes. Although… that explains how the two of you were always so loud back in the day. I always assumed you were strangling cats.”

“Wow, thanks for that,” he should have known his brother would come at him with some random quip like that. How could he think that Thomas would have something profound to say that would end all of his suffering and have him seeing clearly when his brother didn’t necessarily even believe in love. Though, it didn’t just stop there, he continued and Alex could only groan as he leaned his head back against the couch to listen to his brother. Jesus, he was going to kill Jack for showing his brother that damn video, knowing his brother had watched him get fucked? Though, it was rather comical at the same time, in some sick and twisted way because now it was leading to advice.

As his brother mentioned the fact that he’d had two men who loved him he sighed, wishing that weren’t the case, it’d be so much easier if he weren’t loved by either of them. Two men who had captured his heart, something that was so hard to do, and yet both Steven and Patrick had claimed it for different reasons. He didn’t deserve either of them, he was a fucking mess of a man, they both could do so much better than him. “It’s not fucking worth it, I can tell you that much,” but in reality it was, because for the love that he had felt for the men it made his entire world come to life. His world, so bland and grey, opened up by their love and now everything was technicolor.

“I’m going to hurt one of them,” and honestly, he had already hurt both of them. Steven in a way that he wasn’t sure he could ever even come back from, and Patrick in the night that he’d found out about Steven’s return and had demeaned him and made him feel like shit. For as much as he knew he’d hurt one of them though, or both for that matter, nothing scared him more than knowing that he’d be hurting himself more than anything having to lose one (or both again). Hearing that Thomas believed that Alexander would make the right decision had him sighing, hoping that his brother was right, though as he opened his eyes and saw his brother on the ground before him…he couldn’t help but place a hand lovingly on his brothers arm as it rested on his knee.

He leaned forward as he pulled his brother into a hug, a tight embrace after the pep talk that he’d just been given, “I hope you’re right…” This was all just too fucking hard for him, to be a man who didn’t care about anyone, or at least liked to play that part, to now caring more about these two men than he ever thought possible? “I just hope I make the right decision before it kills me, because at the rate I’m going I’ll be six feet under and still fucking torn,” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood as he let go of his brother and leaned back into the couch once more. “You’re going to delete that video right?” He asked, turning back to what he’d seen earlier, “something about a sex tape of mine being on my brothers phone seems…wrong?” He laughed, still quite embarrassed by the fact his brother had seen it in the first place.

[raggaraddy]

The Basement: part one

Anon request: Hi can I request an assassin!yoongi one shot where yoongi gets jealous over reader somehow even though I know he isolates her so she depends on him but maybe she somehow stumbles into a colleague of his in his living room or a friend and the friend is 👀 looking not so respectfully

A/N: Enjoy lovely. 💜💜💜 Part two

Summary: For the first time ever there is someone else in the house with you and Yoongi. How could Yoongi expect you to resist speaking with him.

Trigger warnings: Violence, intimidation, kidnapping, imprisonment, yandere themes.

Yoongi

Yandere! Yoongi

Assassin! Yoongi

It may only be a few hundred square meters, but this house is your entire world. You know every creak, every floorboard that squeaked, how each door closes, everything. So in the middle of the night when you are woken by an almighty thump, at once you could recognize how out of place it was.

Cautiously sneaking downstairs and peering around every bend, you are just in time to see Yoongi slamming the basement door shut behind him.

Putting your ear to the entrance, you could hear the sounds of banging, of the chains, of low spoken voices. Over and over in your head, you told yourself to ignore it. To go back to bed and let it be. But the signs that there was another person down there with Yoongi were clear, and the temptation of that was too much to bear.

Your lesser instinct winning out, you open the door, instantly coming face to face with an ascending Yoongi. And behind him, in the place where you had been chained up many times before was a hooded man. Seated on the floor in a slumped position. His hands fixed against the wall keeping them high.

"Out," Yoongi demands, shoving your shoulder lightly to push you back through the doorway.

"Who-" is all you can gape, disbelief printed on your face.

"Not your concern." He refuses, closing the door. Continuing to push you back into the kitchen. "You do not go down there. Am I clear?" A finality to his expression not allowing any room for discussion or expansion.

Nodding, with a small pout you look at the basement one last time before faking a smile and returning to bed.

You were awestricken. Not once in nearly 8 months have you seen or heard another person in this house. Also not during the 6 months stretch before that. No one had visited. Not a single person had come past the house or had even driven up the driveway by accident. Your curiosity was burning you from the inside out. Your longing to see, to speak to another human aching your very soul.

Yoongi had gone into town, leaving you alone with the unlocked basement door. You'd always been chained up if he kept you down there, so it had never needed to be locked before. And the very idea of taking a quick peek was so tantalizing. However, on the more sensible side of this debate, you knew that Yoongi's word was final and you had never disobeyed him before.

You would like to say you were smart enough for this to at least be a difficult decision. But you swiftly threw common sense to the wind and went downstairs the second you heard the car pull out of the garage. Your body buzzing as you approached the new man.

With a heavy breath and timorous movements, you pull the hood back from the man's head. Black, straight, short hair. Dark, full brows, a perfect heart-shaped face, and ears that stuck out just a little too far. From head to toe, he's largely built. Taller and wider than Yoongi, making you astounded to think about how dangerous he really was.

For a few seconds, the both of you look equally surprised to see the other. Your pulse coursing through your ears, mouth slightly agape, looking at another human for the first time in forever.

"Hi," you squeak, nothing else coming to mind.

"Who are you?" He snarls.

It's spoken with so much hostility, but that question is one that brings you so much relief. You break down, pouring out your entire story in a rampant monologue. Telling him in detail everything you could about you, Yoongi, this place and your abductions. Fully spilling all that you had been so desperate to tell.

He, however, gives you nothing in return. For nearly 10 minutes you ask him question after question and he declines them all. Not even his name slips loose. He explains once that he can't know if your working with Yoongi, or that lunatic as he called him, and he is not going to tell you a single thing. Every question afterwards is only met with a solemn stare or a shake of refusal.

"If you won't tell me anything," you mope a little, "well, you look like a James Bond character, so I'm going to call you Mr Spy. The Spy? 007. Spy-man? I'll work on it." You mutter completely senseless and giddy from this rare moment. Continuing to overshare and divulge.

"Okay, Y/N. With everything you've told me, we're on the same page. So, if you help me get out of these," he rattles his hands, "Then I can get you out of this place."

The thought is alluring. But also more than you signed up for when you came down here. Firstly, Yoongi always keeps the keys for these chains on him. But secondly and most importantly, if you attempted to escape, if you tried to leave again Yoongi would never forgive you. You can't get away from him. You know you can't. And if you tried he would lock you up and throw away the key. You couldn't- You can't.

"I'm sorry, but no. I can't." You sadly brush his offer aside. Feeling awful denying him help like that. "I have to go back up before Yoongi comes home," you mumble.

Leaning over him you bring the hood up. You need to return him to how he was. He doesn't fight or argue, seeming to somberly accept his fate, but his eyes do dart to the top of the stairs at the last second.

Reacting to his troubled expression, you spin around seeing Yoongi already home, standing at the entrance.

At once your body tightens becoming flushed with sweat. Scrambling back from the man you stand in the middle of the room, trying to keep your breathing slow and deep to hide your fright.

"I thought," He starts to lower down the stairs, punctuating each point in his sentence with an additional step. "I said. You could not. Come in here."

"I'm sorry," you hush as Yoongi snatches the hood from your hand. Your head lowering in surrender.

"You want to save her?" He turns his attention and building anger towards his new prisoner. His fists are tight, knuckles cracking as he clenches and twists them. "You want to get her out of this place?" The challenge, the hash way he spits the words spoken about you is making the hairs on the back of your neck stand. Goosebumps flittering down your skin.

Lurching forward Yoongi's knee bashes into The Spy's head. And again. His foot following down booting him in the chest. And again.

"You think she wants to go with you?!" He growls, beating his fist into his head, over and over. The skin breaking, blood erupting all across his face. The Spy's restrained position not allowing him to protect himself in any way, only able to groan and splutter through the abuse. "You're too weak to even get yourself free. You think you can take her!" Yoongi steps back and lifts his leg, stomping the heel of his boot into the curled up fist of The Spy. Making him explode in a pained howl as you hear the bones crunch.

Not wanting to show any reaction, you stay coiled and fixed. Praying for this to end quickly. You had seen this level of violence and sadism from Yoongi before in the outside world. He doesn't acknowledge or accept any interference and he will only finish on his own terms.

You can't help but think if this is this how cruel and viciously he treats everyone else?

Stomping down again, this time he lines up The Spy's ankle. Throwing all his weight, all his force into the joint. The man's screams turning into cries as he wails in agony.

"No. You're not taking her anywhere." Yoongi straightens up, blowing out a heavy breath. Running his fingers back through his black hair over and over pulling it out of his face. "You're gonna tell me everything I wanna know. And then I'll finally let you die." He swallows hard, rearranging his clothes and loosening his muscles. His fiery explosion now quenched.

You can't lift your eyes as he drags you to the top floor. The basement door sealing, muffling the tears of the man below.

"Yoongi. I told him- I told him I couldn't-" You're starting and stopping, trying to sufficiently explain or plead your case. He's never shown anything near that level of violence towards you, but you were still sure he was about to lock you away endlessly for disobeying him.

He steps into you, silencing and making you jump back, smacking into the wall. Trapped between it and your hovering captor.

"I heard you." He speaks deeply and softly. In complete opposition to how he was moments ago. "Well done." His coarse pronunciation is abandoned as he speaks these words very clearly. Making sure you hear his sincerity.

His hand runs softly over your hair, stroking and cupping your head. Making you fight not to melt. Making you look up at him with big eyes. Any sort of affection from Yoongi instantly impacting you greatly, making you emotional and needy for more. Your bottom lip quivering, you whimper lowly as you lose the internal struggle and lean into his hand. Your eyes scrunching tight, hating yourself for how much his gentle touch affects your heart.

"Come with me," he holds your hand having you trail him upstairs. Taking you into his bedroom where he extends the affection and intimacy. Being with you so tenderly and kindly as your mind and heart tears back and forth between the softness you can feel now, and the horrors you saw him do before.

Despite the risks, your head fills with how and when you could see The Spy again. He was hurt, and he needed your help. And you were too eager to see him again. But when you wake the next day, you find a hefty padlock keeping the basement door sealed.

Yoongi at once reading your reaction. "You should thank me for locking that door Y/N. You don't know how dangerous some people can be."

Part two

[separatist-apologist]

If you have the chance, would you be able to write something along the lines of Elain moving on from Graysen (the asshole) and deciding to give Lucien a chance?

Hi anon! I hope you don't mind but I made this a one-shot. It's on AO3, but I'll post it here as well.

--

--

1 year:

Elain sat in the window of Feyre’s home, staring down at the city stretched beneath her. She could see the people of Velaris moving about, smiling, talking, living. Some part of her was jealous, though not enough to prompt her into moving from the same spot she’d been in for weeks. Every time she stood, the memory of Graysen came crashing through the gates of her mind, demanding recognition. It would have been fine if all she thought about was that last, painful reunion but her mind replayed all their best moments. Over and over on a loop, Elain watched herself fall in love with Graysen like it was the first time. Every whispered compliment, every shared laugh, every promise, over and over until she could scarcely breathe.

Her skin felt too tight, unable to contain the breadth of emotion constantly roiling inside her. She barely slept and when she did, her brain convinced her she was still human, still his. Each time, she woke to the crushing realization he was really gone. She’d never hear his voice, see him smile, feel his touch. It was too much.

So she sat, waiting for the moment she could finally house the pain somewhere manageable. She knew she’d never love again and to that end, Elain only hoped to learn how to move around while she carried it. She thought if she could just force a smile and pretend, somehow everything would be alright.

She resented the strangers before, so blissfully unaware of her, of what was happening just above them. Look up! Her mind screamed. Look at me! But no one did. No one but him, without fail, every time. He was walking up to the house as she watched, a little package tucked beneath his arm. He tilted his head, the sun reflecting off his bright red hair, and their eyes met just like always. He held her gaze for a moment, as if to say hello, and Elain, like always, looked away.

Leave me alone.

He didn’t acknowledge her beyond those shared looks, didn’t speak to her, didn’t stand too close if he happened upon her. She wondered, at times, if he didn’t know how she felt. Perhaps he sensed she didn’t want to talk to him. Graysen’s replacement, she thought bitterly. Everyone was waiting for her to get over her engagement, to forget him and move on with him. She didn’t want another, didn’t want to try again, to start over.

She wanted Graysen. She wanted him so badly it made her teeth ache. Her stomach constantly bubbled with anxiety, her chest flooded with sadness. What good was life without him? Was Graysen missing her? Would he move on, love again? That thought terrified her to the point of distraction. She wanted to run away, to see him, to beg him to take her back. She crafted arguments in her mind, imagined scenarios in which he came to find her. She daydreamed of a way to become human again so she could have him back.

None of it made living alone any easier. So Elain stayed, curled in her window.

Waiting.

9 months:

Elain looked down at the pen in her hand with a sigh. Three months of letters, all unanswered. She wanted a chance to explain, to tell him what happened. To see him, if she was honest. She’d begged and pleaded and screamed all to no avail. Graysen didn’t respond, not even to tell her to leave him alone. His silence was a response, though it didn’t make things any easier. She set down her pen next to an untouched piece of paper and rose, resisting the urge to try again. She felt insane, constantly reaching out, constantly waiting. Nothing could fix what was broken, though it hardly made her feel better.

She’d stopped crying every night though the dreams persisted, and her appetite hadn’t altogether returned. Her sisters stopped watching her so carefully when she managed to plaster a smile on her face and pretend she was moving on. Was she? Was this what moving on felt like? She felt empty, numb. She was going through the motions, baking and gardening and reading but none of it gave her joy. She felt no sense of purpose.

At times she thought she could throw herself into the Sidra and it wouldn’t matter at all. She was wondering, again, if she ought to walk out to the bridge and see if this was the day she might hurl herself over the railing. How long would it take anyone to notice she’d left? A day? A week? Would they sigh with relief, no longer burdened by her presence?

She jammed the heel of her palm into the bread dough she worked. Perhaps they’d miss her cooking, but not her. No one looked at her long enough to see what was missing. No one really saw her at all. She could have been the paint on the walls, the—

“Elain?” A deep, male voice asked from the swinging door of the kitchen. Elain froze. She recognized that voice. His voice.

She looked over her shoulder wordlessly as he stepped inside, his black boots clicking softly on the tile beneath his feet. He seemed uncomfortable and out of place so finely dressed among her flour coated dress. Two steps were all he took, close enough to reach the black marble counter at the furthest end of the room. He set a small box atop it, his eyes fixed on her face. She didn’t move.

“Have a good day,” he murmured, offering her a slight bow before stepping back out. She breathed a sigh of relief and pulled her hands out of the dough to get the package he’d left. She wondered if he’d wrapped it, running her fingers over the shiny gold paper. Carefully, cringing when she accidentally ripped some of it, Elain opened the perfectly wrapped gift to find a hard covered book sitting inside. She opened it with trembling fingers.

Fairy tales, the kind she’d grown up with, complete with beautiful paintings done with vibrant oil. He’d left a silver foiled bookmark in front of one of the stories and Elain flipped to it, gasping softly. A brilliant picture of a sunlit sea and a story of mermaids awaited her and she wondered absently if he was trying to tell her that was his favorite. Elain closed the book reverently, hugging it to her chest.

It wasn’t until later that night, buried under a blanket with nothing but a candle for light, that Elain realized that book was the first thing that made her feel anything in months.

She wondered if he knew he’d kept her from trying to jump off a bridge that day.

She wondered if he knew how she felt at all.

6 months:

Ripping up weeds offered Elain a small amount of savage pleasure. Over and over, she imagined it was Graysen she pulled at, her mind angrily replaying the speech she wished she could scream at him. You act like I wanted this! She yelled silently at a particularly deep-rooted weed. You act as though I left you! She tossed the weed onto the pile she was collecting, tsking when she realized she’d broken another nail. Feyre would chide her for not using gloves, his gloves, but she liked the feeling of her hands in the dirt. She liked feeling the earth give way, bending to her will.

Retribution, she thought savagely, ripping another. You abandoned me! She imagined she’d scream. You promised forever and then left me to rot! She imagined how he’d blubber, what pathetic, cowardly excuses he might offer. Would he apologize? She wanted him to. She wanted him to get on his knees and beg her forgiveness so she could ruthlessly tell him no. She wanted him to feel every second of agony he’d put her through. It wasn’t fair he got to get on with his life, got to move on and be happy while she’d been left with the mess he’d made.

Truthfully, it was too cold to be out digging but Rhys’ magic kept that garden alive year-round, she suspected as a gift, and Elain wasn’t about to let it become overrun. It was something to do, a small thing that made her feel like she mattered. In the scheme of things, she didn’t matter. She laughed and smiled and everyone thought her all better. No one saw her, not that she expected them to.

It didn’t make things hurt any less. Elain sighed loudly, reaching for another weed when she heard the sound of boots crunching on the gravel. Something tightened in her stomach, that familiar cord humming softly as he approached. Elain kept her hands in the dirt, fisted tightly to prevent herself from getting up and yielding to the mating bond.

“Good afternoon,” he said, hidden from view by her curtain of hair. Her spine straightened ever-so-slightly at the rich timbre of his voice, washing over her like warm water. She wondered if he expected her to respond. She nodded her head instead, her thoughts drifting towards the book he’d left, dog eared, the spine cracked. She read it almost every night, despite having the entire thing memorized. He didn’t need to know that. How had he even known she was there?

“I recognized your handiwork on the way in,” he continued pleasantly. Handiwork? She thought. “Maybe one day you could show me how you manage to make the azaleas bloom so nicely, even in the cold.”

He’d recognized her gardening? That was impossible. Anyone could plant azaleas. She stiffened, swallowing hard when he crouched beside her, his impeccable boots pressed right up against her pile of weeds.

“From the continent,” he told her, setting an ivory pouch just beside her gardening tools. She looked up, finally parting her hair with her chin, but he’d already turned his back, revealing nothing but the broadness of his back hidden beneath a cerulean coat. Elain waited until she was sure he wasn’t watching to unearth her hands and pick up the bag.

Inside were tulip bulbs from the continent. She’d always wanted to see them, had heard they bloomed more beautifully there than anywhere else in the world. Her father had told her of valleys filled with nothing but tulips. Had he seen them? How had he known she wanted to?

She brought that little bag inside with her when she finished, tucking them carefully away in her sock drawer just beside the pearl earrings he’d given her for solstice. She’d hidden those so she wouldn’t have to see them but this…this should be protected, she thought. She wanted to plant them somewhere special, somewhere just for her.

“You look good today,” Cassian commented when Elain half skipped down the stairs for dinner. She paused, turning for a bathroom so she could look at her reflection. She was surprised to find Cassian was right. She looked…almost happy.

Someone had seen her.

3 months:

All she had to do was hand him the package from Rhysand. Simple, in and out, a hello and a goodbye and nothing more. Elain concentrated, having been dropped off by Mor on her way to do other business in the human lands. Mor assured Elain she could return to where they’d arrived and wait, that she didn’t have to remain with the humans…the band of exiles… if she didn’t want to. Elain didn’t. In fact, she wished Mor could do it all and she could have remained where she was.

She saw the manor, an estate really, made of polished gray stone that made it look like a thing of legend. A fortress that might repel the truly terrible, monsters and dragons and—

“Elain?” An all too familiar voice asked. Her heart sank to her feet and time seemed to stop as she turned to face Graysen. He was human…she was in the human lands…it hadn’t occurred to her that she might see him. She’d been too absorbed at the thought of seeing him.

Graysen looked exactly as she remembered. Thick, brown hair almost flopped into his soft, puppy eyes. Angular, strong face…toned body…Graysen.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, taking three steps towards her and Elain instinctively took one back. Hurt flashed over his features for just a moment before his eyes strayed towards her arched, pointed ears peeking through her hair.

She swallowed. “Am I not allowed to be here?” She replied, refusing to give him a straight answer. He’d forfeited his right to know about her life when he left all her letters unanswered. Graysen’s eyes shifted, looking towards the manor.

“You’re here to see him,” he said, disgust curling over his words. Elain merely shrugged, as if to say so? Why did he care, she wondered? Her fear began to settle, and Elain couldn’t deny that some little part of her still missed him.

“I would hate to keep the fine, Fae Lord waiting,” he sneered, his anger clearly not directed at her. Not completely, anyway. Did he miss her, she wondered?

I don’t care, a soft voice whispered in her mind. “So would I,” she agreed, offering Graysen a soft nod of her head. Everything she’d ever imagined saying to him, every angry accusation or begged plea slipped from her mind. Instead, Elain said, “It was nice seeing you.”

Graysen’s eyes warmed, not enough to convince Elain he still cared. “You, as well.”

Elain turned, then, readjusting Rhysand’s package, and finished walking to the manor. By the time she got to the door, her anxiety was back…and Graysen was forgotten. She blew out a soft breath, raised her fist, and knocked.

It was a servant who answered. Why was she suddenly so disappointed, she wondered?

“This is for—”

“Elain?” He asked, his body appearing in the hall behind. Elain sucked in air at the sight of him. She’d never seen him so casual before, in well-fitted, brown trousers and a billowing white shirt he’d half tucked into his pants, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He held them up with black suspenders that matched the color of his boots and his hair, typically pulled off his face, hung loose.

“From Rhysand,” she said when the servant melted away, leaving just Lucien standing in the doorway. Her eyes drifted towards his forearms, corded with muscle. Why did she like that, she wondered absently.

“Ah. I was told you would be Mor,” he informed her with a frown. Her heart sank.

“Sorry,” she murmured, moving to step off the porch and back to her meeting place with Mor. Lucien surged forward, one hand outstretched as though he meant to grab her but thought better of it.

“I’m not,” he assured her. From behind him, Elain saw a pair of bright blue eyes half hidden beneath copper colored hair peer at the pair of them. A tall, surly man stood just above her, his face etched with disapproval. “Would you like to come inside?”

She opened her mouth, about to say yes, when she remembered who this was. Who he was.

“I uh…I’m supposed to meet Mor,” she replied instead. He nodded, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear.

“Of course. Another time.”

And Elain, for reasons she’d never understand, said, “I would like that,” just as Lucien was about to shut the door. He froze, his expression unreadable.

“I’ll send word?” He asked hesitantly, as though he expected her to back out. Her heart pounded painfully, her tongue sticky in her mouth. She nodded, unable to speak and he smiled.

“Another time, then.”

Elain waited until the door clicked shut to exhale the air she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She walked back to where Mor was waiting, her expression one of apology.

“I’m so sorry,” Mor said the moment Elain was within earshot.

“For what?” Elain replied, still thinking of his smile.

“I didn’t know Graysen would be nearby. I heard he spoke to you. Elain…if I had known…” Mor’s voice trailed off as she studied Elain’s face. “Did you see him?”

“I did,” she agreed, blinking. “I guess I forgot.”

Mor arched delicate, blonde eyebrows and offered Elain her hand to winnow back to Velaris. She looked over her shoulder, back towards the estate hidden in the distance.

All she could see was him, standing in that doorway.

When had that happened?

1 year:

It had been raining non-stop for days and Elain was going out of her mind. She wanted to be out in the world, to see people, to do anything. Instead she sat in the window of her bedroom, looking wistfully out at the empty streets as lightning cracked across the sky. Spring storms seemed endless, trapping her in her bedroom to pace restlessly. She pressed her forehead to the glass, wishing for the barest hint of sunlight. Elain pulled her bare feet beneath her lilac-colored dress as her mind wandered towards a letter he’d sent two weeks before. He was traveling again and he wrote of what he saw, of the things that fascinated him, of what made him laugh. She’d written back, desperate to hear more but he hadn’t responded.

Perhaps he’d tired of their constant communication through letter alone. It disappointed her, each morning that she woke with nothing new on her desk. She didn’t want him to tire of her. She wanted to see him, if she was perfectly honest. She thought she’d been obvious regarding her intentions, but perhaps something she’d said made him think she was no longer interested.

Elain glanced back down at the street where a figure was walking, a dark hood pulled over their head, body covered in a long, cloak. Her thoughts of him vanished as her interest peaked. Who was brave enough to come out in the middle of the thunderstorm raging around them? What could possibly have pulled them outdoors? Elain watched as they approached, closer and closer until they removed their hood. Red hair, a flash of gold and Elain launched herself off the windowsill and out of her room without a second thought. Her feet slapped loudly against the floor beneath her even as thunder shook the walls. She practically jumped the steps, half-tripped over a carpet runner in the hall, and yanked open the front door. Warm, spring air hit her in the face as a bolt of white lit up the dark gray sky around her. She didn’t care. She plunged into the pouring rain where he was, still walking to the front door.

He caught her the second she flew into his arms. “Lucien,” she breathed into his neck, her hands in his hair. They’d never been so close before and yet it felt right.

He chuckled, his arms tight around her waist. “Hello to you, too,” he replied, lifting her off her feet. Water drenched them both, her dress clinging to her skin but she didn’t care. She touched his face as he lowered her back to the pavement, directly into a puddle of water.

“You didn’t write,” she said, her face mere inches from his own. His expression softened, that russet eye melting into flame even as the golden one clicked softly as though responding to her words. “Things suddenly became very hectic. I came to offer you my apologies in person—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she assured him as he held her face in his broad hands. Beautiful, she thought. He was so incredibly beautiful. Lucien smiled.

“Of course I do,” he assured her, lowering his mouth ever so slightly. Her eyes fluttered closed the moment they touched. Thunder boomed around them again, not that either of them noticed. It might as well have been her pounding heart, leaping with excitement. His lips were soft and somehow, and she couldn’t explain it, he tasted the way sunshine felt.

“We should probably change out of these clothes,” Lucien told her, eyes still closed, voice strangled, when they broke the kiss.

Elain burst into giggles. He looked at her, cheeks flaming. “I didn’t mean—”

“Of course not,” Elain agreed, her hand slipping into his own. “But perhaps you could help me all the same?”

Lucien nodded, following as she led him back to the house.

And as she walked through that door, soaking wet and beaming, Elain thought she’d never been half as happy as she was in that moment.

With Lucien.

[adelar-ward]

I created a perfect visual of my Saeran de Winter, MC of “Creme de la creme” (and also the teacher in an off-canon walkthrough of “Royal Affairs”), amazing interactive novels by @hpowellsmith.

---

Saeran is smart and observant, good at accepting the rules of the game... and also figuring out the way to bend rules they don’t like. They’re caring, supportive, and protective for those they’re close with, aren't afraid to get on someone's bad side for them, but won’t care much for everyone else. Though they prefer to avoid any damage to anyone even if it requires more effort, if saving everyone isn’t possible... well, charity begins at home. They know where their loyalty lies and would choose to save one person they love over a hundred people they don't know.

They can be rebellious, especially when they feel mistreated, but they have good manners and know how to be prim and proper if required. It's not easy to make them lose their temper, because the angrier they are in the inside, the sweeter and more courteous they become on the outside.

They’re good with poker face, and they can be really cheeky. Like teasing someone in a way that makes a person wonder if Saeran taunts them or blatantly flirts with them, making it look like they privately smile to their own thoughts rather than openly tease, and that's what baffles people the most, with a mix of annoyed and amused. Especially Blaise with whom Saeran has really explosive hot and cold chemistry and would make a perfect couple. But they married Hartmann, yeah, it's... complicated. There's crush and chemistry, and there's love and responsibility. They have very different but equally strong feelings for both, and they would choose both if they could. At least hopefully they will be able to help Hartmann and Blaise become friends again.

(more text about their personality, appearance, and sexuality ahead, and beware some vague spoilers to "Blood money" after the second picture)

Depending on the situation, they can be very soft and quiet, with very careful movements, or they can be loud and gesture wildly. In an ideal world, an ideal comfort zone, Saeran would be a softie. In reality, they often have to be assertive to carry their point or protect themselves from being bossed around and manipulated, but it doesn't come easy, they're much less self-assured than they appear. But also they're careful and prefer to avoid reckless promises and decisions using persuading (and subtle manipulation if needed).

---

They're panromantic sex-positive asexual, meaning they don't really want or need to get physical, but don't feel unsafe or uncomfortable about it either, so they're okay with being intimate with their partner when the partner needs it or the mood takes them. It doesn't give them much physical pleasure (if any) but the emotional response they get from their partner and the vulnerability they're trusted with are worth it.

Despite their love for teasing people with their maybe-taunts-maybe-flirt, they aren't actually flirty and become more genuine and confiding with people they care for, but not seductive. They aim to touch the soul, not body. For example, they didn't try to flirt with Hartmann at all - they were here for him when he needed it, they nudged him when he felt lost and they took care of him when he forgot to take care of himself, they even gave his mother a piece of their mind. But they never flirted. Actually, it was Hartmann who demanded to know if they have any feelings for him. As for blatant flirting with Blaise, well, Blaise got what he deserved, no one bullies Saeran and goes unpunished. :D

---

Saeran prefers to appear androgynous and wears neither too masculine nor too feminine clothes, or a combination of both, but they aren’t overly bothered, so if some event would require a specific dressing code, they would just... actually, they would probably find a way around the code and add some non-conventional details. Like "you told me to wear a dress and i'm wearing it, but you never told me not to wear jodhpurs and a hat with it". This event actually occurred in their teenage years, they even sewed the whole night so that the hem of the dress could be raised with ribbons in the front for jodhpurs to be visible. After that, they were left to their own fashion devices and became less chaotic in their outfits since they had no more need to be rebellious and carry their point :)

They’re pretty tall and very thin, not curvy at all, and pale as fuck, especially in “Blood money” game (again, by hpowellsmith, because i will never not play games they make) where Saeran is really unhealthy pale in comparison to their family with much healthier appearance, due to *cough* constant blood loss *cough* and going in and out of the underworld which takes a toll. Come to think of it, i might try to create Fuchsia and Otavia as well because i have very strong and mixed feelings about them...

And here i forgot to mention that Saeran is one of my three permanent MCs who i integrate into different settings because i love them so much that i just can’t get enough of them. They started as MC of “Mysteries of baroque” (even though i only scratched the surface of their personality back then), then "CDLC", with an AU appearance in "Royal affairs", and then "Blood money" (with another surname, but still them). Probably not the last one, if the setting will fit them.

Speaking about “Blood money”, behold a person who got themselves into a big stinky mess because after all that they've accomplished, all that they have won by being careful and cunning, they let the momentary pang of pride and envy get the better of them. And now they're on the losing side because initially they've worked their ass out to help the winning side win, and as the cherry on top, the person that has feelings for them is working (thanks to them) for the side they just betrayed. Really, Saeran. And here i thought you were smart. Really, i stopped yesterday somewhere after that and now i’m scared to continue playing because i high key expect the consequences of Saeran’s decisions to bite their ass off, and very soon.

(an old picrew of Saeran i still love so much)

[channiebbang]

alone.

synopsis: changbin and y/n's relationship, although it started beautifully, hit rock bottom a long time ago and while he fell headfirst into his university life and all the chaos and craziness that comes with it, she was left behind. while he had the time of his life for the first time ever she was drowning in the arms of her biggest enemy and friend, loneliness and self doubt. changbin hears her cries of help a little too late.

characters: Changbin, Main Character, a smidge of Bang Chan.

pairing: unistudent!changbin x f.maincharacter

genre: angst, das all, just angst

word count: 1.9k

warnings: description of being left behind and feeling forgotten, loneliness and self doubt.

author’s note: i think i wrote this someday during spring of 2020, when i wasn't in a good place. this hits a bit close to home and is way too personal but bc i'm a person that doesn't really express themselves that much i found out writing helps a lot so here it is lol i hope you enjoy reading this 💛

She felt small sitting under Changbin's cold gaze, her eyes kept shifting here and there to always end up falling down to her twiddling fingers.

It had been a little over fifteen minutes, and he hadn't said a word. She knew what the matter was, but she was scared of where this was leading.

"Tell me what's up," Changbin suddenly said. Y/n's head snapped up at his voice. Her eyes stared at his face for a while.

"What?" She muttered, hating how hesitant she sounded. When did things become so uncomfortable.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked again, his usual higher, sweet voice now low and gruff. Y/n gulped.

Suddenly she understood why everyone said Changbin was scary when angry, although she didn't know if he was angry or upset. Either ways, it was scary.

"I don't understand," she mumbled only for him to quickly snap back.

"Bullshit. Tell me," he demanded, arms crossed. And god, it was so intimidating.

"Can you not intimidate me so much," she asked, a nervous snicker leaving her lips. Changbin didn't give any signs of change. Y/n cleared her throat her eyes falling once again to her fingers.

"You want to break up?" Changbin suddenly asked, his voice cold and almost mocking. Y/n closed her eyes, head down. She felt so small in front of him.

Things hadn't been going the best between them for a while. And where it first started because Changbin couldn't keep his promise of always making time for her when she needed it, it followed with her slowly distancing herself and closing off. The loneliness too much to bear at times.

And she got so used to him not being there that she made friends with the loneliness. It provided her more comfort than Changbin did.

She knew she shouldn't have put so much of herself into a guy, after all it happened before too. But Changbin was different.

He had to be, right? He was my bestfriend, he knew me so well. I had no reason to watch my back as I let myself fall with my eyes closed. He could read me so well. Then why wasn't he there when I called for him? Why was I cast aside the same way I was before? Why did he forget what I cried to him about in the past while I was with someone else? How did he forget about his bestfriend?

He promised. As soon as you feel like I'm not giving you enough time, you tell me, and I will drop whatever I'm doing to talk to you and vice versa, he said. If you need me at any moment, you call me, and I will too, he said. I want this to work, i love you so much, he said. I will try my best so it doesn't get to the point where I don't give you enough time, he said.

So when she called the first time why did he snicker and tell her he had to figure some stuff out now that he was in university, with it being the first few weeks of it, and things being chaotic. And she understood.

But then he was figuring things out, sorting out his schedule, socializing, partying, making new friends, hanging out with them, going to classes, having meetings with the clubs he joined. And where did she fall in between all that? So she understood.

And when she couldn't, she called him asking for just a ten minute call a day, she would be okay with just that. Just ten minutes of his attention.

And you can call her an attention whore, that's okay. She can be one for her boyfriend if she wanted to, she had every right to ask for a little of his attention.

But why didn't she receive that ten minute call after the fourth day? Why were his texts coming in so late?

30 minutes. 1 hour. 2 hours. 3 hours.

She trusted him, blindly, she knew him all too well not to. He was her bestfriend.

So she called again, tried to get her ten minute call. He was never alone. Friends always surrounding him, and where she was glad and happy for him that he clicked with a circle in university, so he didn't have to be alone and drowning in his thoughts, she also sat there, on the phone with him, while he sat there with his friends.

And she spoke, fuck, she tried to tell him stuff that happened in her daily life like she always did. She just wanted to fucking talk to her bestfriend like she did the past five years. But who would she speak to when he wasn't listening to a word she said.

So sometimes she would abruptly stop talking and see if he'd notice. He wouldn't. And if he would it would be when it's been too silent on the other side and he would say, "hello? You there?" "Yeah!" She would say in a light voice, so he wouldn't notice.

And then she was the one drowning. And she hated water, goddammit, she hated it so much, she was terrified of it but she would choose that over the drowning she was going through.

The voices in her head too many, drowning her, screaming over her, comforting her. Because now someone was talking.

Comfort was loneliness, and again, she got used to the sweet lullaby the silence would sing. So loud, yet so calming.

Because silence can't hurt you, loneliness can't disappoint you. They won't ever leave you.

And in months, she was closed off once again.

Where she had her bestfriend in the past, she had no one now.

And she hated herself for it, she hated it because she lost her bestfriend. The only person that could ever help her, the only person that she could ever run to, the only person that she could say anything to.

Suddenly she had no one to help her, that she could run to or that she could talk to.

And everything was back on being suffocating. The empty feeling sucking her in it's black hole, the constant lost feeling looming over her.

She couldn't talk to him about herself anymore, she just couldn't.

So she knew he was meaninglessly taunting her with that question, but was it even appropriate when he knew they were on the rocks? Was he so willing to ask such a risky thing when she was so used to being alone?

Changbin stared at the girl in front of him, wondering what happened.

She used to be so full of light, so full of life. And now she was just a shell of her old self. She was doing so good, they were doing so good.

And he knew it was mostly his fault, and damn, did he hate himself for it. He should've seen it before. The signs were obvious.

How did he not see it? He had spent a lot of his time in the arms of the same loneliness for so long, how did he not see it?

He had spent so much of his teenage life, if not all of it, drowning in his own loneliness, his own voices. He had been lost for so long, and she was the one that gave him hope. She helped him without even realizing. Hell, even he didn't know. Then how did he let this happen to her?

What games was fate playing with him?

He had told her so many times how small things she did or said helped him cope up so much when he was the one drowning. His bestfriend was the light at the end of the tunnel.

How did he push her down the same tunnel he struggled to come out of? The same tunnel she helped him out of? How did he turn his back on the same hands that helped steady him without even knowing anything? How dare he?

He saw her in this state before, he helped her out of it when that bastard shoved her too deep into the claws of self hatred. Loneliness her most comforting friend back then too. He helped her out of it, then how did he let her fall again?

His hands felt clammy now, his body heating up as he tried to keep his emotions at bay.

She gulped down the lump in her throat, not wanting him to see her weak and bothered. She didn't want to worry him. She hated the thought of him thinking he had to watch over her, he had to keep her from falling again. She didn't want to be a burden, she felt like that her whole life already.

She took a deep breath as she looked up at him, a small sad smile on her lips and Changbin held in his breath not believing but also knowing where this was going. And it broke the couple's heart.

"That would be the most reasonable think to do, don't you think?" She asked, and fuck why did she have to sound so sweet yet so heartbreaking? He thought, gulping down.

"No, we can make this work," he furrowed his eyebrows, stubborn, hopeful. And y/n almost smiled at her stubborn baby, but she couldn't. He hadn't been her baby in a long time.

"Changbin," she whispered and Changbin hated it. Hated how she called him, how she made him sound pathetic and like a baby and an involuntary sob escaped his lips.

And almost immediately she got up from her seat on his desk chair and her arms were around his wide shoulders as his head pressed against her stomach. Her own tears running down her cheeks as she quietly sobbed with him.

"I'm so sorry," he choked out, arms tightly secured around her thighs. She nodded, her cheek resting against his hair as she stroked his locks with one hand, the other secured around his shoulders.

"I'm very sorry, too," she spoke against his hair, her voice strained.

"No, I was supposed to be there for you. You told me you were not okay, I should've been there for you, I-I should've, should've," she shushed him, wrapping both of her arms around him and bending forward to rest her head against his shoulder.

"Don't," she scolded softly, her constant tears probably wetting his hair as they ran down.

"Don't lose yourself, okay?" She reminded him, her fingers running through his hair again as she stood up straight. She felt Changbin's arms tighten a bit more.

"Stop worrying about me, think about yourself for once," he sternly spoke, his voice rough. He refused to let go. He just needed a little bit more.

"I will," she said nodding, even though he couldn't see her and Changbin snorted.

"No, you won't," he spat out and she flinched because she knew it too but she decided not to say anything.

-

She had left after calming him down but to be honest, both of them knew the other broke down crying as soon as they were out of each other's sight.

Changbin stared at his bedroom ceiling, staring at nothing in particular.

A knock at the door brought his attention to it, his eyes shifting to Bang Chan standing at the door.

The older walked in, a tight lipped smile on his lips as he handed a cold water bottle to his friend.

"Thanks, hyung," Changbin smiled at him, sitting up and taking a sip of the water right away.

"Don't worry, Bin. Everything will be okay," he softly spoke, his hand comfortingly grasping Changbin's shoulder, and the younger couldn't help but nod, hopeful. Trusting his oldest friend.

"I hope so too," he muttered.

[cosmicjoke]

Okay, just have a few thoughts about chapter 115 of AoT.

It’s really interesting that Zeke ends up having the tables turned on him and being manipulated by Eren, the wool pulled over his eyes, the way Zeke is used to doing to everyone else, and it’s interesting because of the reason why, I think.

Part of Zeke’s problem is that he’s a narcissist.  He can only view everyone and everything through the prism of his own life experiences, through the lens of himself, his thoughts, his feelings, his beliefs, and has no capacity to consider things from anyone else’ side.  He’s incapable of it, it seems, incapable of separating other people from himself, or rather, separating himself from others.  He thinks all the world and everything that happens in it somehow revolves around him.  This is probably Zeke’s biggest weakness, and it’s why he falls for Eren’s lie that he agrees with Zeke’s euthanization plan.  He just assumes that Eren’s life experiences are his own, that his experiences with their father had to have been the same, that Eren will understand things from his perspective, because Eren must have gone through the same things he did, and thus, he MUST feel the way Zeke does.  He doesn’t consider Eren as a separate person from himself, but rather just an extension, a younger manifestation of himself, as someone who must hold the same, special, unique understanding he has of the world and how to “save it”.  We see Yelena refer to Zeke as a god again and again, her view of him fanatical and reverent, and the Yaegerists perception of Zeke as some sort of savior figure, emerging from the womb, with shafts of heavenly light casting down upon him.  This is all reflective of how Zeke views himself, a godly, messiah like figure who’s come to rescue the world with his benevolence and kindness.  He believes himself to be special, and he sees Eren as an extension of that specialness.  It’s why Zeke is so certain that when he goes with Eren back through his childhood memories, he’ll encounter the same experiences he had growing up.   It’s why he’s so shocked when it turns out Eren’s childhood was nothing like his, and that Grisha didn’t plan initially on even taking the Founding Titan.  Zeke can hardly conceive of anyone having a better or happier upbringing than him, of having a better life, and it basically shatters him when he’s forced to face that truth, because it destroys his own uncompromising belief in the notion of life being meaningless and worthless.  He’s so caught up in his hero complex, in his desire to see himself as special and a savior, in fact, that he doesn’t even realize or appreciate the connection and warmth he experienced in his own childhood, with Mr. Ksaver or his grandparents.  He has to believe in the lie that his entire childhood was nothing but misery to uphold his beliefs about the meaninglessness of life in general.  

More examples of Zeke’s narcissism is how Mr. Ksaver points out that, after coming in contact with the founder, Zeke still won’t be able to control it’s power, that only the host can.  But Zeke doesn’t really believe that.  He sees himself as the chosen one, and is confident that once he makes contact with Eren, Zeke himself will be capable of controlling Ymir and her power.  It’s why he starts crying and whining like a bitch when, later, Ymir ignores his ass in favor of Eren.  When Zeke screams whatever about being a member of the royal family and Ymir being bound to him, it comes across as a child throwing a hissy fit when they’re forced to face the truth, which is that the world doesn’t revolve around them.  He can’t accept it, or wrap his head around it.  It doesn’t line up with his perception of himself as a god-like savior of the world.

We also see Eren use that kind of arrogance that Zeke has against him when he tells Zeke that “If the Eldian’s in this camp had never been born, then they wouldn’t have to die in this attack we’re planning.”  He knows Zeke sees what he’s doing as mercy, as “saving” people, that he’s deluded himself into seeing his actions as that, rather than what it actually is, which is murder.  He’s stroking Zeke’s ego here, by offering him absolution from the horror of his coming actions, shifting the blame for what’s going to happen to all of these people off of Zeke and putting it instead on the random, cruel unfairness of “being born into this world”.  Zeke swallows it all up, because it reaffirms for him his beliefs in himself as a hero of destiny, or whatever.  It makes him feel good about himself.  

Okay, anyway, now I just gotta’ talk a little about when Hange finds Levi, and just... ugh, it kills me, these panels.

I hate seeing Levi like this.  It’s heartbreaking, and shocking, because it’s the first time in the entire series in which we see Levi in a truly, physically vulnerable state.  The first time we see him physically helpless.  It’s genuinely upsetting, especially when you consider everything he’s already been through, the psychological and emotional trauma he’s already experienced leading directly up to this moment.  Levi truly doesn’t deserve this kind of thing, to have the one thing left to him, his physical strength, stripped away from him like this.  A man who’s lost nearly everything else in his life.  It’s tragic, it really is.  And I think Isayama did a remarkable job here of really conveying that tragedy in the devastation we see in Levi’s physical state.  He looks totally wrecked and utterly helpless, and it’s just almost bizarre, because Levi’s only ever been incredibly powerful and strong and confident in that strength throughout the series.  Seeing him like this, then, seeing him so broken, is almost unbelievable.  But it also almost seems like a tangible, physical manifestation of the emotional and mental anguish Levi has experienced throughout the story.  He would always keep his emotions in check, would keep his expression flat, would hide away whatever pain he was feeling, in order to continue on and keep fighting, in order to be strong for those around him and hold them up with his strength.  For the first time, we see him unable to do that.  For the first time in the entire series, Levi needs to be rescued.  And it’s Hange of course who rescues him.  And it’s really here where we see Hange’s willingness to to bend to Floch and his followers, to play along with them and compromise, fall away.  Hange’s expression becomes genuinely hard and unyielding, almost vicious, as she realizes Floch’s intention to kill Levi.  She fully commits in this moment, I think, to fighting against these people with everything she has, and to no longer waffle or  in anyway submit to their demands.  And it’s Hange’s friendship with Levi that gives her this resolve.  It’s her commitment to a friend, the genuine and deep care she feels for him.  She may have been willing to submit to the Yaegerists when it was just her life on the line, but she won’t let them kill Levi.  It really speaks to the incredible bond the two of them share, as the last remaining veterans of the Survey Corps.  That’s a unique experience shared between them, the two of them there since well before the walls ever fell, and all the losses experienced by both before and since.  That it’s specifically Levi’s vulnerability in this moment, and the impending danger he’s placed in, that hardens Hange’s resolve, speaks volumes.  

[youralternantpersonality]

Mating Season

Seth x reader: Mating Season

WARNING: Smut, male aggression (kind of), and a whole new Seth. 

***

Monday, August 12th, 2019

It was the first day of school and Y/n was at the library during lunch (as always) catching up on some homework while sneaking some chips occasionally. Seth, Embry, Quil, and Jake were passing through when Seth noticed his long-time crush. Even before his shift, Seth always daydreamed about the quiet and shy girl. They had a few classes together, but he could never get the courage to talk to her. Now that he has shifted, He craved her more than before.

“Yo! Seth! You okay their little guy?” Embry laughed, waving his hand in front of his face.

“What? Yeah, I’m good.” He says, slapping his brothers’ hand away.

“Look over their guys. Hey Seth, why don’t you go talk to your girl.” Quil nudges him towards the library door.

“Shut up Quil,” Seth pushed back and started walking away. Jake and Embry shared a look and grabbed Seth towards the library.

“Let me go! What the fuck is wrong with you guys!” Seth says, trying to not start something with his brothers, while also not causing a scene. Too late.

“What the-?” Y/n looked up from her English homework to see Embry, Seth, Jake, and Quil playing tug-of-war with each other. Y/n shrugged her shoulders and goes back to work as the boys run off elsewhere.

Friday, September 20th, 2019

Seth sat directly behind Y/n and could do nothing but attempt his way to be closer to her as possible. He had finally gotten the courage to talk to her a couple of days after the library incident; in the midst of it, to everyone’s relief, he imprinted on her. Since then, he has calmly entered her into the pack world. She took it well. She was shocked and hesitant at first, but she accepted what it was.

When he told her about the imprinting, she was happy. Seth has never seen Y/n big e/c eyes light up and smile as if she was seeing the sun for the first time. She was ecstatic by it because she had feelings for Seth since she first saw him in gym class a few years back. He was smaller, lanky, and had baby-like features. Now, he was buffer and broader, taller, with child-like features. Even as a giant, he wasn’t intimidating. Seth was the definition of a teddy bear or more like a cub. Man, on the outside, a child on the inside.

Wednesday, November 13th, 2019

It had been a little over two months of Y/n and Seth being together. Emotions grew stronger and hormones became wilder. It didn’t help Seth when Paul would think obscure things. It also didn’t help that Seth would think of those things while being with Y/n. She knew something was up and decided to confront him about it.

“Seth, are you ok? You seem…on edge lately.” Y/n said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he says abruptly moving away from her hand. “I have to go,” Seth said walking past Y/n and towards the front door. He is stopped by an arm grabbing his.

“Did I do something wrong? You’ve been avoiding me…” Y/n said with tears in her eyes. Seth turned to his imprint and regretted everything he did to her. He grabs her, pulling them close, and kiss them as hard as he could. Allowing to let Y/n feel why Seth has been acting the way he has. She hesitates and looks up at him.

“That’s why I have been distant. I don’t want to force you into doing anything you don’t want to do. I love and care about you too much.” Seth says with emotions in his eyes. Y/n smiles looking down. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, looks up at him, and she allows him in. When he looks at her, he sees it. He sees a mutual feeling. Love, passion, and lust. Without a word, they embrace one another for a wild night to remember.

Friday, January 3rd, 2020

“Alright! Let’s move, move, move!” Sam screamed. The pack has been running drills all day. Anger and tension started to build between the guys. During this time, Leah had to be dismissed for her safety (Sue and Billy’s demand) but did drills later when it would just be her, Jake (maybe), and Seth. Sam and Paul were stricter on everyone, we fought more, and became irrationally aggressive at times. All for one small reason.

It was mating season. A time where, if the option was available, we’d all go to our corners of La Push and stay with our imprints and fulfill the moment (while using protection of course). Thus, the reason for Leah not being here. For wolves in general, guys become aggressive as the women go into heat. It’s not like anything would come of anything if Leah was there. It would just be better if she wasn’t.

Seth had warned Y/n of this time of year. It happens randomly from January to March. No warning when it does happen. This year just so happened to be at the start of January. A great way to start a new year.

Seth ran to Y/n house after practicing drills in the cold rain. He climbed up the side of her house and in through her window and sought her out. He growled at the sight of her. She had just gotten out of the shower, wrapped in a towel with her h/t (hair type) wrapped in a towel. She jumped at the sound he made and tried to catch her breath.

“Jesus Seth! You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here? I thought you said Sam was going to have you guys run drills until later tonight?” She asked, oblivious to his stance and demeanor. When he said nothing, she walked up to him slowly, then stopped. The moment she looked into his eyes; she knew that she wasn’t going to leave this room for the rest of the afternoon (when her parents come back from work).

“Fuck.” She drops her towel, and without a second thought, Seth grabs her by the waist, pulling her closer to him, grabbing her face, and pulling her into a deep needing kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and just gave into him. Seth was always gentle, calm, and sweet when they had sex. She knew that this wouldn’t be one of those times. She was about to see, feel, taste, and experience a whole different side of her boyfriend.

“Mine.” He growled in Y/n ear as he picked her up and pushed her against the wall. He pushed his member to her center and grind slowly as moisture starts to pool in between her legs.

“Yes, fuck, Seth. Yours…” She wrapped her legs harder around him breathing hard against his neck. He undid his pants and pulled his boxers down, kicking them somewhere in the room. He kisses her roughly and begins to play with her clit. She moans against his mouth, throwing her head back at the much-needed pressure where she needed it the most. Seth bends down and starts leaving marks all along her neck, shoulder, and breast before sliding her up against the wall, throwing her legs over his shoulder and eats her out.

“Oh, dear god, Seth! Fuck baby, right there…” Y/n grabbed onto his hair with one hand and balanced the other one against the ceiling, so she doesn’t fall.

“Mine. All mine!” He growled against her pussy, causing a violet vibration that traveled through her body. Incoherent words falling from her mouth as he worked her until she couldn’t go any longer. When she finished, and he got his fill, he slid her down, wrapping her legs around his waist, and thrust into her without warning.

“Fuck...” both said in unison. He waited with his eyes closed, forehead pressed against hers, easing his breath. She thought for a moment, just for a moment, that he was going to go back to their other way of sex. Until his eyes shot open and stared back into hers. Never, has she ever, seen this animalistic side of Seth.

“Fuck.” He went for it. Deep hard and fast thrusts entered her as soon as she braced herself against him. She squeezed her legs around his waist at the surprise impact.

“No! Mine!” Seth lifted her legs to his forearm, pressing her against the wall while his hands supported her back. She could look down and see him entering and exiting her. Making her wetter and wetter as she watched. Her head flew back against the wall, trying to grab onto anything she could reach as he took her in the most pleasurable way.

“More, Seth. Please…d-don’t stop Daddy.” Seth stopped shortly, rose his head up slowly at her, and gave her a grin.

“Say it again.” He growled.

“Daddy…” He thrust into her hard.

“Again”

“Daddy.” Another thrust.

“Again”

“Daddy…” She whined this time. It was enough for him because he went back to fucking her. Only this time, he held eye contact with her, watching her facial expressions. His pace became uneven and she knew he was about to finish.

“Cum in my mouth daddy.” I breathed in his ear. A few more pumps afterward, he slips himself out, I slide to my knees and begin taking him in my hands and pumping him.

“Ah, Fuck Y/n!” He grabs a wad of my hair and shoves my mouth on him. He releases inside of my mouth and I sucked him off as he continued to cum. His hips thrusting towards me, only making me suck and pump harder.

“Shit, baby, no. Fuck Y/n.” He slips himself out of my mouth and looks down at me. I spit the leftover in my mouth in my trash can next to me and look back up at him. He gives me a grin, reaches for me to pull me up, and kisses me softly.

“Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to hurt or scare you.” He said quietly with a grin on his face.

“No complaints from me, sir.” I smiled. And the second I said sir, his eyes became dark again and I knew I was going to have to brace myself for the rest of the evening. If little words like sir are going to get to him. I can only imagine what else might.

[staticscreenwriting]

California Summer - B.H. Smut [one]

Synopsis: Kings Cove California is Billy Hargrove’s hometown. It’s also a popular summer vacation destination for rich couples and their spoiled kids. (Y/N) is one of those rich girls. Proper, sweet, innocent. Only that all bores her to death and Billy is just the adventure she’s been looking for. It’s all fun and games. A summer fling. Not strings attached. Right? 

Inspired by the songs “dreaming of you” and “Kiss it off me” by Cigarettes After Sex.

 A/N: This is smut, babes. Filthy. I will sit in the shame cube after I post it. Please if that is not fore you, don’t read it. Also do not interact if you’re under 18, that’s just not cool. Kay, thanks ♥

Might fuck around and make this a series.

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

There’s something about California summers, Billy thinks, thank makes them special. They’re hot and sticky and messy but they’re also exciting and exhilarating. The world seems to be dusted in a perpetual golden glow and days seem endless and full of possibility.

Maybe that sentiment is what brings all the tourists to the little coastal town of Kings Cove, California. A town caught between the undeniable charm of an old sleepy coastal town and the ever-expanding demand for tourist-friendly beach houses in gated communities where rich people can relish in the charm the town brings and then piss off once their vacation days are over.

Billy was born here, raised here until he was 17 and shipped off to forge his path in shitville Indiana. He was miserable then, but a shadow of himself. Angry and sad and overwhelmed by emotions he never learned to properly deal with. Singers and artists always seem to find something poetic about being young and angry and lost. Truth is: there’s nothing poetic about it, nothing romantic or desirable. It’s hard and it kills you slowly. Starting with your heart and then taking over every part of you, slowly but surely.

Soon as he turned 18 and was handed his High School diploma, Billy packed all his belongings into the Camaro and was off. The drive back to California, back home, it felt cleansing. Like a rebirth. A return to life at his own terms.

He got out. He survived. This, Billy is sure, he would always pride himself with no matter how trivial it may seem to anyone else. He got out. Not completely whole. Severely bruised. He got out with a heart so scared he’s sceptical it will ever fully heal. But he got out.

Though coming home didn’t come without its hardships and obstacles. There was nothing waiting for him here but a bunch of questions and an uncertain future. Finding a job, a place to stay, a point from which to start — it was hard. It still is hard. But he’s trying his best.

Kings Cove has a handful of restaurants, some convenience stores, a gym, a few bars, a drive-in, a normal cinema and a bowling alley. It’s really nothing spectacular and yet it seems there’s more and more tourist making it their temporary home in the months between May and September. It started about 5 years ago, that the town started changing with the increase in tourism. They bulldozed the playground Billy always played at, the one closest to the beach and built a bunch of fancy-ass houses and condos and a fucking Starbucks. It pains him to see it. To watch the town he loves so much, the one that holds so much charm, turn into a sandbox for rich people to shape and turn and make it something it isn’t. Something empty and lifeless.

The good thing about those tourists though, is that they are really really rich. Absolutely filthy rich. The kind of rich where they don’t know what to do with their money so you can charge them insane prices for ordinary things.

And that’s what the locals have started doing. A scoop of ice cream used to be 30ct, now it’s a dollar. You gotta bend with the world. You gotta adapt. Surviving means changing even if it sucks ass.

When he first arrived back, Billy had no idea how to navigate this place with all its changes. He felt so god damn out of place in his own home. That’s until he reconnected with Johnny, an old friend from middle school. A kid who grew up in a home filled with anger and sadness just as Billy did. Someone who understood. Someone who understands.

Johnny had it all figured out, adapted and changed. Got Billy a job at the maintenance business he works at. Fixing rain gutters and mowing lawns and cleaning driftwood off the sections of private beach belonging to the beach houses. It’s not the greatest job in the world but it’s alright and it pays good money and sometimes Billy even gets to hang out at the houses when the rich people are out taking surf lessons or doing a wine tasting a town over or try their luck on a god damn banana boat.

Kings Cove is small and the locals know each other. They’re a community tightly bonded through their shared disdain for the change their beloved town went through and the knowledge that though they can’t change anything, they can at least make the vacationers pay big money for everything.

It’s his second summer now and most of the families whose houses he tends to he’s already familiar with. You don’t forget the people who tip you 50 bucks each time. On Mondays, Billy cares for the Millers’ backyard. On Wednesday he makes sure the Callaghans’ pool is clean and still stinks of way too much chlorine. On Thursdays, it’s the Franklins’ estate that needs tending to. And weekends? Those are off.

Weekends mean he gets to enjoy the California summer himself. He goes out to the beach just after sunrise, to catch a few waves or just hang out in the ocean and let it wash away the stress resting on his shoulders from a whole week of hard work. Later, much later, when the sun is about to set, the real fun begins. There’s a bonfire almost every week. No one is ever quite sure who starts it and no official invitations are ever spoken though everyone knows and sure enough, every Saturday a crowd of young people gather by the driftwood pile and hang out and drink and dance as the bonfire crackles on.

It’s not just locals either. There’s always a few stray tourists there. Billy isn’t really all that interested in getting to know them. This is just a blip on their radar. A temporary adventure. But to him this place is home and he’s so fucking tired of these rich kids coming around and acting like they own the place. He’s the first to admit though, that the girls are quite hot and he doesn’t mind a little fling here and there without the fear of having them want anything permanent, knowing their time together comes with an expiry date. They can be quite fun and they’re so willing to let themselves fall into an intimate adventure with a local.

There’s no chase, no effort from him. The only annoying thing is they usually don’t grasp the idea of a summer fling and get clingy to the point where it becomes frustrating.

It’s a bonfire like any other, when his eyes drift across the beach, filled with people mingling all clutching a bottle or a cup. Nothing feels different or spectacular or special. But maybe that’s the thing about special moments — we don’t realise they’re special until we look at them in retrospect. And then they mean everything.

His eyes meet hers across the way. There are no fireworks. His heart beats at a normal rate. Whatever the movies and the songs try to sell you, that’s not how it really happens. Your world won’t shift and there will be no hummingbirds going wild in your stomach. It’s just a glance, a flicker. A moment that seems to hold no significance at all.

Billy can tell she’s not from here. Her outfit says it all. She’s wearing a long flowy skirt and a white tank top and some denim jacket over it that looks like it probably belongs to some boy with a trust fund and a name like Kyle or Charles. In her hair, there’s a clip with a fake flower on it. She looks expensive and fancy and like a piece of work that he’s not willing to put any effort in. He bets the guy beside her, the one that keeps playing with her hair. The one in the polo shirt. That’s probably her boy. His dad owns a boat for sure and probably fucks his secretary.

And even though he pulls his eyes away, he can feel his thoughts drift back towards her. As if some magnetic force tries to keep his mind there, with her. On the way she smiles, or how the wind blows through her hair and makes them looks messy and disorderly and — hot. On how he wants to be the one making a mess of her. He wonders what she feels like, tastes like, sounds like. Even Billy can’t deny he wants her. She’s just his type though something tells him she’s different from his other flings. There’s something deeper in her eyes. A secret he wants to unravel. It’s hidden there and it’s screaming out to him and only him.

As he turns back towards her, he sees her looks straight back at him. With those eyes full of secrets and that smirk on her lips.

Maybe his heart does beat a little faster then. Though he’ll never admit it.

That night he goes to bed and dreams of her and the beach and California.

California summers come with heat but they also come with thunderous storms. Mighty and unforgiving and rough.

Billy makes his way down the roads of Kings Cove, windshield wipers just about dealing with the heavy rainfall as it drums down onto his car window.

“ It’s the wrath of all women scorned and mistreated “ his mother used to say when he was younger and a storm washed over them. He always thought that was silly. Women aren’t thunderstorms, they’re April showers. They’re sunshine on your skin. They’re dewdrops on the lawn.

It’s so dull and gloomy he almost doesn’t see her. Only the peach coloured baseball cap makes her stand out against the grey. She’s slowly walking along the side of the road, unbothered by the downpour. Casual and relaxed as if she’s not getting soaked right this moment. There’s a Slurpee in her hand, blue raspberry.

He wants to drive past and no let himself be bothered with it. This, she, it’s not a mess he needs to get involved in. This can only end in a disaster. Rich boys don’t like you picking up their girlfriends. Rich boys also don’t like you lusting after their girlfriends. And rich boys who see you as a threat can get your ass fired real fucking quick.

And yet he pulls up to the curb and rolls down the window. “ Do you need a ride? “.

She smiles at him, the same way she did that night at the beach in the glow of the bonfire. Her lips are cherry red and for a second he wonders what they taste like. It’s like a primal desire, to taste her. To have her. God, he’s such a guy.

“ Need? No. I’d like one though.”

It’s the first time he hears her voice. It sounds so proper, so innocent. And yet there’s an edge to it. She’s all riddles and mysteries and things he wants to unpack and unravel. Something tells him all the red and the ribbons are only the outermost layer of who she really is. And wouldn’t he like to see more of her?!

“ Get in then,” he instructs with the nudge of his head. A gust of wind follows her as she opens the door and slides into the car. She smells of sunscreen and salt and artificial raspberry flavour. She smells like summer.

“ I’m Billy. “

“ I know. “

That catches him off guard. Sure he knows the locals and some of the kids whose parents he works for but that’s about it. He’s not nearly as prolific as he used to be in Hawkins. He’s a bit more mellow now if he can say so himself.

“ And you are?”

“ (Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You tend to our beach house on Tuesdays. I saw you clean our pool the other day”.

That’s news to him. The fact that the (Y/L/N)s have a daughter. He thought it was only her parents alone in that big house in some attempt to rekindle the fire of their marriage. Last year it was only them two, he could swear.

“ Is that so? I could’ve sworn it was just your parents in that house. “

“ Was just them last year, I was in New York City last summer. This time they decided to bring me. Let me enjoy the California sun. “

“ So you enjoying it? “

“ Verdict is still out but I quite like the view yeah. “

The teasing edge in her voice does not get lost on him. If Billy Hargrove is good at one thing, it’s realising when a girl is flirting with him.

“ You watching me then? What does your little boyfriend think about that, huh?”

“ Boyfriend? “ she sounds almost offended at those words, spits it with a certain malice that takes Billy by surprise. “ You mean Dawson? “

Dawson. Of course, that’s his name. Fucking Dawson. Dawson with the swoopy hair and the polo shirt. Dawson with the trust fund. Dawson with the DUI and the state attorney dad. Dawson with the scholarship.

“ Dunno his name.”

“ He’s not my boyfriend. He’s a friend that’s a boy that thinks if he waves around his money I’ll spread my legs for him. As if I don’t have my own money. It’s so unsexy it makes my pussy dry as the Serengeti.”

Billy has to stop himself from pushing the brakes too hard. It’s not something he has expected her to say. Not this outright at least. Something about her brashness and her honesty is truly charming though. It’s endearing for sure.

“ Wearing his jacket though, poor guy thinks he’ll score soon enough.”

“ Eh. Maybe I’ll let him. I’m getting a bit bored. If nothing better comes along— “ she says it casually and shrugs her shoulders but Billy swears there’s an open end to that sentence. Almost like an invitation.

“ Hope pretty boy does it for you then. So — where to? “

She faces him, peach baseball cap on her head and cherry smile on her lips. “ See, the thing is that my parents aren’t home right now and I don’t have a key so … “

“ So...? “

“ Just wanna hang somewhere until they get home tonight. Maybe somewhere dry? “

Everything in him screams at him not to do it. Not to get tangled up in this. He knows, god he knows, this is a bad idea and yet he says it anyway.

“ Do you wanna chill at my place? “

She bites her lips then takes another sip from her Slurpee. “ Yeah, sounds good to me.”

God Billy, you are such a dumbass.

Billy’s apartment is small but he feels more at home here than he ever did in any house he shared with his father.

There’s an open kitchen/living room area, a bathroom and his bedroom. It’s not much but it’s his and that makes all the difference.

“ Well uh — this is my place. “

He almost expects to see some kind of disdain on her face, disappointment too maybe. She’s used to big fancy houses with white shutters and stucco ceilings. Though when he turns to look at her there’s none of it. Just curiosity. No judgment. Not even a tiny spark. Not even at all.

“ It’s nice. Do you uh — I’m soaked. Do you have a shirt or something you could give me?”

It’s now, that he lets his eyes travel down her body, and notices her shirt clinging to her body. She’s not wearing a bra and it’s painfully obvious and he swears he dies in that moment. There’s only so much a guy’s heart can take.

“ Uh. I — mmh.”

As if his body works on autopilot, Billy hurries towards his bedroom and rummages through his closet until he finds a shirt that’s even baggy on him and will surely work for her. God, seeing her in his clothes is gonna give him another little heart attack.

“ Here you g — “ she’s naked. Not completely but her shirt and jeans are gone and all she’s in is a pair of red underwear and no bra and some socks and that damn peach baseball hat.

“ Huh? you never seen a pair of tits before? “

“ No, I have. “

“ Good. “

“ Yeah. Here “

She smirks as Billy hands her the shirt, doesn’t break eye contact. Not even once and she slips if over her head and almost drowns in the fabric. It reaches down to mid-thigh and she looks glorious. Wet hair clinging to her skin, shirt covering everything but just barely. Bily is usually suave and charming and smooth. Why not now? Why not with her? What is it about this girl that she plays his games better than he does it himself.

“ You want something to eat? “

What the fuck, Billy. There’s a half-naked girl in your kitchen and you’re asking her if she wants food? What is going on?!

“ Sure, what’ve you got? “

“ Lemme see — “ Billy says and turns towards the kitchen cabinets and (Y/N) slides up and sits down on the island. Her ass must be flush on the counter and Billy has to stop himself from following that thought any further because that would result in a serious hard-on right now.

“ So I got some Nachos aaand — “ he says and squats down to open a lower cabinet, “ I think there’s guacamole somewh— “

A soft thump interrupts him and, as he realises what’s caused the sound, his heart drops straight down into his pants and his whole body goes hot. Like his entire system is going haywire.

His hand reaches out to take the flimsy red fabric into his hand. Her underwear. This has crossed flirting long ago. This is an obvious invitation and if this was any other girl or any other situation he’d already be balls deep inside her so why not now?

As Billy turns to look at her, the teasing smirk is back, her eyebrow is raised in a way that tells him she’s challenging his next move, and the secrets are back sparkling in her eyes.

“ Oops “ she says though he can tell she’s all but sorry.

“ What are you doing? You have a boyfriend. “

“ Uuuugh ”  (Y/N) moans in annoyance, “ I told you, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a boy who doesn’t get it. I have a lot of boys in a lot of cities who all do not get it. They think because they’re rich and their parents have influence, everyone has to do as they wish. They’re not used to not getting what they want and I like to see ‘em get pissy once they realise they can’t have me. Billy those guys — they are so boring. So dull and if I have to listen to one more lecture about politics or their scholarship or how their daddy helped finance the university’s library I am going to off myself. “

“ So what role do I play in this game? You’re just a rich girl who’s bored with her suitors then, huh? What am I ? “

“ Exciting. You are different. You are you, no ifs or buts. You are your own person not a clone of your wealthy father and his even wealthier father. You are exciting and so. fucking. hot. “

Billy doesn’t notice it happening but suddenly he’s so close he can feel her breath on his skin. She’ so close. So close. All he has to do is reach out and grab her. Touch her. Kiss her. Taste her.

“ Fuck me.”

“ You sure? “ he murmurs, voice low and deep and soothing. “That’s all this is gonna be. Sex and fun and nothing serious. “

“ Just fun. No strings. I’ll leave at the end of the summer anyway. Until then we can — explore. “

“ Explore? “

“ Mmh. There’s so much we can do.“

“ Sounds good to me. “

Billy doesn’t give her time to reply before his lips descend on hers. She doesn’t taste like cherries or chapstick or sugar. She tastes cold and like fake raspberry slushy. Billy thinks it’s his favourite flavour now.

His hands wander up and down her sides and hers get tangled in his curls, combing through his hair and tugging slightly. She’s breathing deep, quick breaths as his lips make their way across her neck and down towards her boobs. He bunches the shirt up and pulls it over her head leaving her naked on his kitchen counter. She’s absolutely fucking breathtaking and his jeans are getting awfully tight around the front.

“ You’re so hot “ he murmurs against her skin as he buries his head in the crook of her neck. Her skin is flushed and there’s a cute red tint to her cheeks. Maybe he was wrong about it on all accounts. Maybe she’s not as innocent as he has first thought.

Her fingers slip down his body and straight into the front of his jeans, grabbing his dick and squeezing his hard on softly. Yeah, she’s definitely not as innocent as he had first thought.

It’s a clash of teeth and a tongues and a lot of saliva. This is messy and raw and rough and he feels like he’s died and gone straight to heaven. With every second, his lips wander a little further down her hot skin, placing kisses one every inch he can reach until he’s kneeling in front of her. Her eyes lock on his as she spreads her legs further letting him see just what he’s been lusting after since the first moment he’s laid eyes on her. He feels like a man starving being presented with an all you can eat buffet.

Their eyes lock as his lips kiss the spot where her abdomen meet her thighs. It’s not where she wants him but it’s enough to make her go fuzzy in the head.

“ I’ll make you forget about all those rich fuckboys, baby.”

And he does. God, he does. As soon as he licks at her clit she can’t recall a single name of any other boy she’s ever met. He devours her like he was born to do nothing but eat a girl out. There’s kisses followed by kitten licks followed by more kisses. It’s driving her crazy, the way he flicks his tongue.

(Y/N) lifts her leg to rest on his shoulder as her hand reaches down burying herself in his hair. The way she tugs, the slight pangs of pain, it’s delicious. Billy can’t get enough of it. He adds a finger, then two, slowly in and out, the faster, then even faster. He knows she’s close by the way she throws her head back, bites her lips. Her lipstick is everywhere, her hair clings to her skin now from sweat instead of rain. She’s a mess and he’s so proud of getting her to this point. He further spreads her lips, lapping up the wetness, sucking at her clit, making her come undone right there on his kitchen counter.

The moans that fall off of her lips are almost pornographic, he wonders if her parents know the kind of activities she gets up to when they’re away. He bets they don’t. She’s a princess at home. Nice and proper. A princess who spends her free time getting fucked by their poolboy.

Billy pulls away at the last minute which (Y/N) really doesn’t enjoy. She pouts at him, gives him a sound of pure dismay. “ Why did you stop? “ she questions, voice breathy, almost incoherent.

“ Cause I wanna feel you cum when I fuck you. “

He’s not usually this bold and brash. Girls like lovely words. They like soft voices and hushed whispers and for boys to say nice things during sex. Not her. She wants the dirt and the mess and the honesty.

(Y/N)’s hand finds its way back to his crotch, pulling down the zipper of his jeans and freeing his solid boner.

“ No boxers? “ there’s a glimmer of mischief playing in her eyes.

“ You complaining? “

“ Fuck no. I’d suck you off but I want you inside me — like right now. “

Billy only nods, before fumbling a condom from his wallet and pulling it down his cock. He shares her sentiment. All he wants to be right now, is inside her.

Rough hands grab her hips and turn her around before pushing her down. Her boobs as flush against the counter, ass on full display. She’s a sight for sore eyes. A masterpiece.

Billy can’t keep his hands off her ass. He has to grab a handful, squeeze it, caress it. There’s boob guys and butt guys and then there are guys like Billy who know that both those features are mutually phenomenal and to limit yourself by choosing one or the other is a move only a fool would make and he ain’t no fool.

Billy lines himself up at her slit. He can’t wait to feel her around him, wet and warm and throbbing and —

“ What are you waiting for? “ she grunts, impatience clear in her voice and she tries to wiggle her ass closer to him.

“ Patience, baby.” Billy instructs as he grabs onto her hips and pulls her even closer. Her skin is so soft, so perfect. There’s a primal desire in leaving his marks of passion there so he leans over and places little love bites on her shoulder. They’ll be easy for her to cover up with a shirt but he’ll know they are there and that’s all that matters to him.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he trails his erection up and down her entrance, coating it in her arousal. He’s really not looking forward to clean this mess later on but right now it’s damn worth it by the way she’s trembling and wiggling underneath him, desperate for some stimulation.

“ Patience is not a word I know, sorry “ she’s so god damn desperate it almost makes him cum before he even gets a fuck in.

“ Yeah me neither. “

With those words he sinks into her and it feels heavenly. Engulfed by her warmth, her wetness, her passion. Quite frankly, he’s convinced, there’s no better place to be in the entire world, than buried in the pussy of a pretty girl.

Billy moves his hips slowly, deliberately, set a rhythm and a pace. He watches his cock disappear inside of her then slide back out in a delicious cadency as he dings his fingers into her hips, surely leaving bruises.

The moans tumbling from her lips are almost pornographic though he can tell they’re real and honest. There’s no reason for her to fake anything. He’s pretty sure she’d set him straight if he was doing something wrong.

“ more. “ she gasps, breath hitching as she pushes back against him, taking him even deeper. This girl is a dream if he’s ever seen one.

Billy speeds up his movements, slamming into her at a faster pace, pounding her against the counter. The air is hot and both of them are so sweaty and the room smells of sex and salty ocean air. God, he loves California summers and pretty girls.

There’s a fire lit in his lower abdomen as she whimpers and arches her back off of the counter. Billy lifts one hand off of her hips and grabs onto her front, caressing her soft tits and pulling her upright so her back is flush against his chest. The sheen of sweat covering them makes it hard to figure out where one of them ends and the other begins. Right then, they are one. Her peach colored baseball cap falls off of her head and onto the floor, where the rest of their clothes lie discarded.

His hand desperately moves across her chest, squeezing and teasing and trailing fingers around her nipples, hard from arousal.

“ Oh fuck yes. “

The confirmation that he’s doing something right, that he’s making her feel good, makes Billy’s ego grow 3 sizes. He’s such a sucker for validation.

He snaps his hips faster, harder, tries to go deeper. His hand grabs onto her thigh and lifts it up so her knee is resting on the counter letting him fuck her at a whole new angle.

At the way she cries out in ecstasy he knows he’S doing something extremely right. “God, right there. “ she almost sobs. Billy’s sure she’s biting her lip so hard it must be close to drawing blood.

Billy buries his head in her messy hair, softly traces kisses and love bites up and down her neck, tugs on her earlobe with his teeth. “ Yeah? Your pussy is a dream, baby. A fucking dream.” he grunts, voice laced with lust.

“ I’m gonna cum, Billy. “

He can tell, by the way she trembles, clenches around him. By the way her breathing hitches. And he’s right there with her.

There’s a fire pulsing through him, shockwaves rippling. It bubbles in his abdomen then boils over. With every snap of his hips the movements get more arrhythmic, messy, uncoordinated, desperate

A bunch of expletives fall from her lips but Billy can hardly make them out as his own orgasm washes over him. It feels like time slows and every sound disappeared into a white static. Nothing matters then but to chase that high and catch it and get some sweet release.

Billy feels her cum around him, squeezing him tightly in the process. The way she moans his name, as if it’s both a secret and a confession to himself and the world, that’s what does it for him.

Grabbing her hips with both hands, he holds her in place, before pounding into her with a few last uncoordinated hard thrusts. And then his vision goes black for a moment and his brain stops functioning as he cums into the condom.

For a moment there’s no sound but them trying to catch their breath as they slump down against the counter, spent from the activities. Sweaty, filthy, messy. But oh so satisfied and content.

Billy pulls out of her and for a second he misses her warm and tight around him. Like he was meant to stay there forever. Fuck, he’s such a guy.

Another heartbeat passes and (Y/N) lets out a melodic but breathless giggle. “ I could go for some Nachos and Guac right now. “

This girl is really something else.

They devour the snacks while lazing on his couch. Naked as they came to this earth, unbothered. Maybe this is what makes him go so absolutely feral about her, the fact that she’s so uncomplicated. Yeah she comes with all kinds of warning signs and bad news for him but being with her like this it’s so easy. Like they’ve been some kinds of friends for a long time.

Their bodies are always touching in one way or another. As if they can’t get enough. Billy’s sitting on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table while her legs are places on his lap, cigarette dangling from her fingers. The air is sticky and humid and even the late afternoon breeze doesn’t bring any cooling-off.

As his eyes fall onto the clock on the wall, Billy lets out a frustrated grunt. “ Fuck.”

“ What’s the matter?”

“ I’m supposed to meet my friend Johnny at the gym in about 10 minutes. Totally forgot about it. “

“ Do you have to go? “

“ I really should. “

“ You’ve had quite the workout today though. “

Billy scoffs a laugh at her words before plucking the cigarette from her fingers and taking a drag. He lets the smoke sit in his chest for a moment, hoping to capture even a bit of the warmth he felt when buried balls deep inside her cunt.

It doesn’t work.

“ He’s waiting for me. “

“ Aw, that’s too bad. “ she says grabs the cigarette back and, after one last drag, then stubs it out in the ashtray resting on the coffee table. “ I was just about to ask for a round two. Guess I’ll have to do it by myself then. That’s fine. “

Her fingers trail down her body, teasing her nipples before descending towards her slit. She slowly circles her clit. Billy is honesty sure she’ll be the death of him. This girl is so sweet yet so dirty and he’s not sure he’s ever met someone like her.

“ You gonna sit there and finger yourself on my couch ? “

“ You gonna sit there and watch and not join in? Come on Billy, I can give you quite the workout. No gym necessary. Do I have to beg? “

Yes. God he wants to hear her beg but that makes him feel a bit — uneasy. He doesn’t want her to think he doesn’t want this just as much as she does. Maybe they can leave the begging for another day.

“ You’re insatiable, huh? “ he asks as he settles himself on top of her, lips colliding with hers ina fiery kiss.

(Y/N) just nods, a satisfied moan slipping from her lips as his fingers nudge her hand away and replace them softly trailing up and down her slit, slipping inside every once in a while.

“ What can I say? It’s a bad habit I just can’t seem to quit.”

Maybe this is a really bad idea. Maybe he’s getting himself into more trouble than he needs right now. But the way she feels and sounds and taste make it worth it.

As the sun sets upon the horizon and the summer storm has long passed on to another coastal town, Billy thinks that it’s so worth it if only he can feel like this for the rest of the summer.

There’s really nothing quite like a California summer and a pretty girl with a dirty mind.

[raevenlywrites]

The Ties That Bind 11 of ???

“Dani?”

Rei touched my shoulder, tentative, cautious, and I wanted to turn and scream at him. It was irrational, I knew, but I was tired of being rational. I wanted to sulk and snipe like my guard captain; I wanted to joke and tease like Zane. Even Emune’s stoic, silent hostility was more emotion than I felt allowed to show. I wanted to bury my face in Rei’s chest and scream and sob and shout and beat my fists against him and feel his strong arms around mine and know that they would never let go.

I did not want to be a hole in the ground crying within earshot of Zane Cobriana.

I sat, frozen, unable to offer Rei any sort of response because to move at all would be to fly apart in every direction at once. I was exhausted, on every level, but the demands of me just kept coming.

 And now here was Rei, asking without words if everything was alright, and knowing that it wasn’t.

 When I didn’t react to his presence, Rei moved closer, kneeling next to me, putting his arm around my shoulder, gentling me to his chest. I let it happen, let him take comfort from the actions of comforting me, hoping that maybe if I went through the motions it would somehow seep in through this solid wall of icy nothingness. I could feel my edges cracking, wanting desperately to shatter. But Rei’s embrace did not offer enough heat for anything so dramatic. No whirlwind collision of fire and ice would ever come of two so steeped in reserve.

 I pushed away.

 “Dani--“

 “Don’t, Rei.”

 I tried to gentle my harsh refusal with the softness of his childhood nickname. Dani and Rei. Two untried children who thought they knew what grief was. Oh, if we had only known what torments would be yet to come.

 “Is Rei who you want?”

 His question startled me, made me scrutinize him in the close dimness, as if I had somehow mistaken the voice I knew so well, the arms that cradled me to sleep when the nightmares left me screaming, the heartbeat as familiar to my ears as my own. I studied his face, trying to read the thoughts behind his eyes, searching for... I didn’t know what.

 “What does that mean?” I finally asked, at a loss. At least his enigmatic question had given me something else to fixate on, shaken me from my mire of emotions.

 Rei pulled back, and I realized I’d been steadying myself with a hand on his chest, because as he moved away I felt my balance shift, and did not appreciate the metaphor. Yes, Rei was my rock, but he wasn’t leaving me--

 Or was he?

 I flashed back to his outrage at the Mistari camps, the betrayed confusion in his eyes as I’d flung myself between him and Zane. How obviously unhappy he was with this entire arrangement--and how flagrant he’d been with all these emotional displays, and how utterly unseemly it all was.

 We’ll find a way, he’d promised me. And I’d said the exact same words to Zane.

 Is Rei who you want.

 “Rei...”

 I followed him, letting my hand on his chest take more of my weight, letting him feel the shift in my balance, letting him know I would fall without him. It was the only language we had for this thing we dared not voice, the only way I had to show him how much he mattered to me.

 Everyone assumed he’d become my alastair, when I was ready. But what confirmation had I given him, the man who would give his life for me a thousand times over? We never spoke of it, because it was unseemly...

 When had this gulf grown up between us?

 Maybe it was just from watching Zane and Adelina, so obviously a couple without ever doing anything overt, but...

 I wanted Rei. And the fact that he could ask me that, that I’d left him any room to doubt--it broke my heart.

 I’d preserved my purity so carefully, and for what? Zane didn’t care, and had made that clear. And Rei... Rei had suffered for my chastity.

 I brought my other hand up to cup his face, bringing me even further off balance, and searched his stern face for a sign. That he’d stop me, that he wouldn’t... But he didn’t flinch, not even around the eyes. Rei was locked down, hiding from me--me. I felt balanced on the edge of a precipice, knowing that if I didn’t bring him back to me now, he’d be lost to me forever.

 Did I love him? Of course, absolutely and without question. Did I love him in the way he loved me?

 I just didn’t know.

 But I wanted to find out.

 I slipped my hand around to cup his neck, feeling his raven’s feathers soft under my fingertips. I pulled him to me, pushed myself higher up on my knees, did everything I could to close the gap--but he had to come to me. I couldn’t make this soldier bend if he was unwilling.

 I breathed his name, the bare whisper of it lost in the rush of blood pounding in my ears.

 “Rei... Yes. I want this.”

 Now he did flinch, and I thought my heart would break into a million pieces.

 “Here? You want to do this here?”

 I bit back my sigh, tried to keep my voice and breathing even.

 “Yes, Rei, here. Why not here? Why not a million times before this? What has kept us from this?”

 He couldn’t answer, because there wasn’t an answer. We’d kept ourselves apart for reasons that didn’t exist, not when faced the desperate reality of two people who needed each other. I urged him down again, feeling that I was nearly hanging from his neck, begging him to bend, to not fight this now that I was finally ready--

 His lips were startling against mine, too fierce, too sudden. Yes I’d asked him to do this, but I hadn’t expected it to be so, so...

 I tried to stop thinking, to just feel his lips against mine, his hair under my hands, his breath hot on my face-- Breathe. I couldn’t breathe. This was supposed to be passionate and fulfilling, and all I wanted was a chance to pull back, to take a breath--

 I pulled back, opening my mouth to ask him to wait a moment, to pause. But he followed me, the flood of his need unstoppable now that the gates had opened. His tongue surged between my lips, choking in its insistence--

“Rei! Stop! Give me a moment, please.”

 I braced my hands against his chest, feeling his heart as wildly beneath my hands as my own pulse in my throat. My head was spinning and I still couldn’t breathe, and I’d definitely have fallen if not for his hands still around my waist. I gripped his arms at the elbows, needing to hold on, and feeling safe again now that he’d relented. It was a good sign, I hoped, that I still felt safe in his arms, but...

 Well. This could hardly be the reception he’d been hoping for.

 “Please don’t pull away.”

 I gripped his arm and locked my eyes with him, willing him to stay, to keep himself open to me, to not take this as a rejection. The failing was on my part, and I desperately needed him to give me the time to explain that.

 My words came out in a tumbled rush, as overwhelming and demanding as his kiss had been.

 “Can we try that again? I want you, please understand that I want you, but Rei that was so much, how was I supposed to keep up? We’ve never done anything like that before and suddenly you want to consume me--“

 “Dani, Dani stop.”

 His hands were light on my waist, completely at odds with the intensity of my grip on his arms. I felt I was falling, falling, and his careful hands were the only thing holding me to earth. I cherished the feel of his hands, so why had I balked at the press of his lips?

 “You’re right,” he said carefully, as if worried he would spook me. I felt how wide and wild my eyes were, so I really couldn’t blame him. “You’re right. I should have conducted myself with more decorum. I’ve wanted to do that for so long...”

 He closed his eyes and drew in a steading breath, while I wondered at his words. He’d wanted to do that for so long. Had I? Had I honestly ever imagined kissing him, exploring him?

 “But you’re right,” he said again. He sounded almost like he was trying to convince himself. “Here and now and a million times over, I could have and should have and would have and will. I will.”

 He pulled me in closer, and my breath caught at the sudden sensation of too much closeness again.

 “I’m not going anywhere,” he said into my hair. I was glad he couldn't’ see my face, because I had no idea how to hide my panic. “You want me, and now I know. The rest... we’ll figure out.”

 “Right,” I mimicked, wishing I felt his certainty. “We’ll figure it out.”

The Ties That Bind Tag list: @thehellinsideyourhead @therecouldbecolorsandlove @adventuresofacreesty​ @writing-with-melon

Raev’s Gen Tag List (should I tag you guys in this? It IS a thing I wrote. I’m gonna say yes unless you guys are like “no of course not we’re sick of hearing about your stupid fic for a twenty year old book XD)

No one has complained yet so yall gonna keep getting tagged :P

List is currently: @lordkingsmith @writinglyra @drbibliophile @mperialscribe @adie-dee @adie-dee @lexiklecksi @writinginslowmotion @raenawrites @apollon-arium @anika-writes

[akitohru]

The Sohma clan and its cult-like characteristics or: why and how they get away with everything they do. Why everyone stays. Why the current system held in place operates so well. I wrote this back when episode 10 came out, but I didn’t post it over here. However, with the release of Rin’s episode, I’m seeing this topic being brought up again a lot, so I wanted to post it over here too. This post will include no manga spoilers, so don’t feel the need to watch out for them.

Warning: Abuse will be heavily discussed in this post.

With the reveal that Akito is God, we find out why the zodiac are so loyal to Akito. However, the curse itself is largely a metaphorical device rather than an actual fantasy device. Even without the curse, their loyalty to Akito is still.. very realistic considering the environment they grew up in. It’s not an exaggeration to say that the Sohma clan (at least, the “inside” part of the clan.) is a cult. This post will be explaining why that is and how being in a cult affects people. I will be using this handout (uucnrv.org/uucwp/wp-content/uploads/Cults-handouts.pdf) in the post as a reference.The handout defines a cult as:

A religion or sect, generally considered to be extremist or false, under the guidance of an authoritarian, charismatic leader for whom members exhibit fixed, even religious, veneration.

The zodiac worship Akito as their God. Even if they have problems with how Akito operates things, they still hold great reverence for him and don’t go against him no matter what kind of heinous things he does Ex: Not doing anything about Yuki being locked and tormented in a dark room by Akito for a majority of his young life, Akito partially blinding Hatori + ruining him and Kana’s relationship, Akito harming Tohru, and Akito pushing Rin off from what looked to be the third floor of a building.

Now, onto what the handout describes as common characteristics of cults:

One charismatic leader is the group’s sole authority on truth; only this leader decides, or has the right to approve, all policies and practices. Members are zealous, protective, and unquestioningly committed to the leader.Members regard the leader’s beliefs and practices as truth and law; the leader affirms and enforces this idea. Questioning, doubt, and dissent are discouraged or punished.

Since I’ve pretty much already covered how all of these characteristics relate to Akito and the zodiac under the definition, I’ll refrain from repeating myself on certain things. You may have noticed in episode 9 that Yuki says, “He needs to know his place. Him and me both. That’s how it’s supposed to be.“ He and the others have had instilled in them ever since they were old enough to comprehend things that the way things operate in the Sohma Clan are simply just the way things are supposed  to be. That they can not defy that. That is is fate. Like Akito says to Kyo, "It’s what’s been carved into the wheel of fate for those born with a spirit.”

“The group’s leadership dictates how members should think, act, and feel. Members require the leader’s permission to change jobs, date, marry, or have children. The leader tells members where they can live and how to teach and discipline their children.”

Ex: Hatori having to get permission to marry Kana. While this is a characteristic of a cult, this also has to do with the Sohma clan’s family/household system. You can read more about that in this informative and intriguing post made by Furuba Canon here! (It warns in the post but watch out for spoilers.)

“The group uses public humiliation or punishment, debilitating work, sleep deprivation, or other practices to create group-think and to suppress individualism and doubt.”

I’ve already mentioned some examples of the type of punishment Akito exacts against the zodiac for insubordination under the definition, but another example of this would be when Akito visits the school and threatens Yuki with the “special room” he used to isolate him before because he skipped out of the New Year celebration

“The group is elitist, claiming special status for itself, its leaders, and its members.”

The zodiac are most definitely seen as special in the Sohma clan, only the “insiders” knowing of the curse. Akito, of course, is seen as the most special.

“Criticism or jokes about the leader or group are taken very seriously and likely punished.”

We see this when Kyo is fighting back against Akito in the annex, Akito responding with, “Don’t give me orders,” and becoming more aggressive after Kyo tells him not to touch him. We also see this when Tohru protects Momiji from Akito. 

Thought Reform

In the article (people.howstuffworks.com/cult.htm), “How Cults Work”, the author describes how cults manage to have so much control over people:

A destructive cult uses countless techniques to get its members to stay, commit themselves and take part in what may be harmful activities. The sum of these techniques constitutes what some people call “mind control.” It’s also known as “thought reform,” “brainwashing” and “coercive persuasion,” and it involves the systematic breakdown of a person’s sense of self… Thought reform is an umbrella term for any number of manipulative techniques used to get people to do something they wouldn’t otherwise do…most psychologists believe that cult brainwashing techniques, which are similar to techniques used in prisoner interrogation, do change a person’s thought processes

Techniques (I will only be mentioning the ones that apply to the Sohma Clan.):

1. “Isolation- Cults cut off members from the outside world (and even each other) to produce intense introspection, confusion, loss of perspective and a distorted sense of reality. The members of the cult become the person’s only social contact and feedback mechanism…

Cults may not allow unsupervised contact with the “outside world.” In this way, there is no chance for a “reality check” or validation of a new member’s concerns regarding the group.

Cults typically instill the belief that “outsiders” (non-cult members) are dangerous and wrong.”

As we first see in the “Spring Comes” episode, the Sohmas mostly all live in the big Sohma estate with no outsiders being allowed in without special permission. Even if they are allowed to attend school and go out for other reasons, they’re still pretty isolated and surrounded by people who don’t find the way things operate inside the estate odd at all, some even encouraging of it. Someone living in that type of environment all of their life will more likely than not be influenced by the people around them, twisted as those people may be.  

In a more extreme sense, we see this with how Akito isolated young Yuki and still isolates Kureno. Akito rarely allows anyone to see Kureno, keeping him by his side as much as possible, not giving him a chance to break free from his chains. The same went for Yuki. Again, Akito instilled in him that the outside world was pitch black and that no one would accept him out there, that it was dangerous to interact with people outside because they’d find him strange and weird.

2. “Induced Dependency- Cults demand absolute, unquestioning devotion, loyalty and submission. A cult member’s sense of self is systematically destroyed. Ultimately, feelings of worthlessness and “evil” become associated with independence and critical thinking, and feelings of warmth and love become associated with unquestioning submission…

Any doubts, assertiveness or remaining ties to the outside world are punished by the group through criticism, guilt and alienation. Questions and doubts are systematically “turned around” so that the doubter feels wrong, worthless, “evil” for questioning. The member is loved again when he renounces those doubts and submits to the will of the leader.”

We see this when Kyo questions why Akito allowed Tohru to live with them if he hates her so much, if he’s using her for something. In response to Kyo questioning, Akito retorts, “You’re always quick to make me the villain, huh?…You even killed your own mom! Do you think you have the right to fall in love with someone?! Do you think that’s allowed?! Kyo. Hey, Kyo. Think about it. Who’s the real villain here? Who’s the one who involved her the most?” When Kyo gives in, Akito becomes more “loving” towards him, saying, “It’s okay, I’ll go visit you in confinement. I’ll be by your side, so you won’t be alone. I love you. I actually love you so much, Kyo. Be a good boy from now on.“

Akito loves using people’s trauma against them, knows how to use it in such an awfully cruel way. In Kyo’s case, he has been told that he’s a monster his whole life even by his dad. His mother took her life and everyone blames it on him. It’s not simple to erase that guilt he feels from even though he has positive influences around him. (Ex: Kazuma, Tohru.) That’s how Akito breaks him down. Even if he knows Akito is a cruel person, it doesn’t erase the idea from his mind that he is a monster and that, despite Akito being the way he is, that he is right. Akito knows this. He manipulative and knows how to make people bend to his will.

“The leader may randomly alternate praise and love with scorn and punishment to keep the member off-balance and confused and instill immense self-doubt. The leader may offer occasional gifts and special privileges to encourage continued submission.”

We see this with how Akito tells everyone he “loves” them, but, at the same time, emotionally and physically abuses them to keep them in check. The situation with Kyo in the annex applies here too.

3. “Dread- Once complete dependence is established, the member must retain the leader’s good favor or else his life falls apart.

The leader may punish doubt or insubordination with physical or emotional trauma.”

I believed I’ve already used up all the examples I can use that won’t be spoilers, so I’ll copy the examples I used under the definition. Ex: Not doing anything about Yuki being locked and tormented in a dark room by Akito for a majority of his young life, Akito partially blinding Hatori + ruining him and Kana’s relationship, Akito harming Tohru, and Akito pushing Rin off from what looked to be the third floor of a building.

“Once all ties to the outside world have been cut, the member feels like his only family is the group, and he has nowhere else to go.

A specific example of this would be how Yuki felt when his mom gave him up to Akito. To quote him, “I thought that if she abandoned me, if she deserted me, everything would turn dark, and it would be the end to everything.”

“Access to necessities depends on the leader’s favor. The member must "behave” or he may not get food, water, social interaction or protection from the outside world.”

Again, Akito’s isolation of Kureno and Yuki applies here. There are some spoilery things I won’t mention that are very applicable here too.

To end off,

Indoctrination, or thought reform, is a long process that never really ends. Members are continually subjected to these techniques – it’s part of daily life in a cult. Some adjust well to it after a period of time, embracing their new role as “group member” and casting aside their old sense of independence. For others, it’s a perpetually stressful existence.

The zodiac were born into an extremely twisted environment. It’s pretty much all they’ve ever known. They think the way they are living is the way it is supposed to be and something that can not be changed. Akito is the head of the family and has the support of many Sohma elders/adults including most of the zodiacs’ very own parents. It is also worth noting that the Sohmas are a very rich and powerful clan (Notice how they even have a hospital under their name as shown in episode 5 of s2. That’s how Akito/the parents can get away with abusing the zodiac kids and putting them in the hospital without anyone reporting them.); if they really wanted to prevent someone from acting out against them they very easily could and could easily pay off authorities if anyone managed to report them. Another reason why real life cults are so successful is because of corrupt law enforcement who are willing to turn the other cheek if they are paid enough and deep political ties. 

So, with all that being said, you can see why it would be natural for them to feel trapped, to feel that they have no choice. Adults around them that were supposed to take care of them and protect them instead used them for their own benefit/let them be a part of such a twisted system. Abuse, childhood abuse especially, is something that can irrevocably damage a person’s mind. The effects of abuse and trauma are nothing to scoff at. Even healthy adults who’ve never been in that kind of environment can be brainwashed by a cult if they’re unlucky enough to get caught up in one.

[animalanie]

Oneshot - Teen Wolf [Exit]

A/N: Hey, everyone! So, I wrote this Oneshot a LONG time ago and never published it. I think it’s finally time to unleash it. Enjoy!

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Title: Exit

Pairing: Theo Raeken X Gender Neutral Beta!Reader

Word Count: +2.2K words

Warnings: Potential spoilers

Here you were, stuck after school, once again, to work on potential non-lethal weapons. Scott’s exact words rung in your mind as you handled the equipment in your hands with care. 

You are the only one who can help us now. I didn’t want to trouble you with too much with what’s already going on, but we have no choice.

You sighed and placed your hands against the tabletop of the desk you were working on, keeping the unfinished weapons to the side. Ever since Allison passed away, Scott’s pack had recruited you and now your job was to provide them with weapons. 

You were in his friend group from the very beginning but never considered yourself part of the “pack” until he said it himself. Another tired sigh escaped your lips as you noticed the wall clock in the front of your Chemistry class. Realizing how late it was, you brought your hand up to your lips as you yawned.

"Looks like someone is going through a rough time." The all too familiar voice echoed throughout the empty lab and you looked up, suddenly cautious of your surroundings, but most importantly him. At the sight in front of you, you subconsciously clutched the edge of the desk in front of you as he casually walked further into the classroom.

"What do you want, Theo?" You growled at him as he chuckled in response and dragged his fingers against each table he passed tauntingly.

"If I remember correctly, I used to be the hostile one." He looked up at you as he finally stood next to you, momentarily glancing at the equipment you were working with.

"Pretty sure that still hasn't changed." He shrugged at your comment, as if it truly meant nothing to him. Without another word, he stuffed his hand in the pocket of his jacket before pulling out a small vial containing a rare, but uncomfortably familiar liquid.

"Where did you get that?" You grabbed the vial instantly and examined it to make sure it really was what it appeared to be. Before you could do anything to it, though, he snatched it from you and shook the vial lightly.

"Can you make a bullet out of it or not?" Not wasting a single moment, he jumped straight to the topic and waited for your response. You, on the other hand, simply stared at him with wide eyes, not believing what he had demanded from you.

“Why do you think I would help you with that? For all you know, I could call Scott and his pack to come and get you.” You growled at him, letting your claws grow for your protection if you needed it. Theo, noticing your defense immediately, chuckled lowly and shook his head.

“Will you, now? Alright, I’m right here. Call them; your phone is right there, on the table.” He pointed to it as you followed where directed, staring blankly at the black screen of your phone. “But you won’t. Is that it?” He moved closer to you at the taunt and you stepped back immediately. 

“Don’t come any closer.” You pulled your hand up in front of you, showing your claws as a pathetic attempt at intimidating him.

“Or what? You’ll hurt me?” He tilted his head, seemingly enjoying this mindless chat. “Aren’t you the only weapons master left in the pack? Were you Allison’s replacement after she died?” Your hand wavered at the assumption, your teeth beginning to chatter in anger.

“Replacement? Please, I was in the pack before they even considered you.” You tried your best at fighting back verbally as you noticed his eyes soften before he looked away.

“Is that so? Then why do I feel like you seem to always be in the dark?” He finally gathered his thoughts and turned back to you, a new fire ignited in his eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Of course, you don’t. They didn’t tell you anything. Maybe, it’s because they don’t trust you enough yet. If you make them more weapons, maybe, they’ll finally let you in.” Theo leaned closer to you, making you falter, and grabbed your wrist in a swift move after seeing you let your guard down. 

Before you could react, his other hand grabbed your free one so you could attack him no more. Feeling unnecessarily restrained, you growled at him as your eyes glowed a bright yellow. A small smirk crossed his face as he stared down at you before leaning to whisper in your ear.

“I can do that too. Don’t think you’re going to scare me with that.” He pulled away to look at your expression but you turned your head away, feeling disappointed in yourself. When you felt him loosen his grip on you, you yanked your hands away from him and stepped back, tidying everything up so you can leave.

“Why would you need a bullet made out of rare wolfsbane? What the hell are you thinking?” You spoke up as you looked up at him briefly, getting straight to the point, and his eyes on you narrowed as he placed the bottle on the desk next to you. 

“Pray tell, why do you need to know that?”

“Because I don’t take any orders from just anyone. Especially without knowing the reason behind the weapons. Well- having said that, I won’t help you either way. Keep that in mind.” You shrugged your shoulders as you stuffed a few papers in your shoulder bag, not bothering to look at him anymore. But your breath hitched the moment he stepped closer to you and gently stopped you from doing anything else.

“Well, I’m not just anyone. I’m your ex-boyfriend.” You snapped your head in his direction, feeling anger coursing through your veins.

“And that’s for a reason! On the other hand, it means there is nothing between us anymore.” You were about to turn away but snapped your fingers at him before continuing. “Which also means that you need to exit!” You pointed at the doorway and took the vial that rested on the tabletop, safekeeping it with you for the moment.

“Exit? This room?” He asked, his voice dropping in pitch as he stared at you.

“Yes- and even better: exit my life as well!” You spoke through your clenched teeth, watching his expression morph into one of disbelief. You repeated the words in your mind once more, questioning their weight, perhaps, a little too late.

“Go, please.” You muttered and turned away as you bit your lip after seeing him nod his head silently. 

“I will. After you admit that you at least missed me a little.” He turned back to look at you, waiting for you to respond, but you continued to stare at the table. “Tell me you wondered where I went off to without telling you-”

“That’s the point, Theo! You left without telling me! I didn’t know what you were doing, where you were. Were you dead, alive?! I didn’t know!” You yelled, finally breaking through the barricade you had put up for yourself to remain calm. “But you know what?! Because of that, I finally felt like I had a life. I went back to my old friends and they welcomed me like nothing had happened between us! Maybe, it was all a sign!” You waved your hands to emphasize the miracle you had been exposed to as you grabbed the strap of your bag, ready to leave. 

Theo, on the other hand, seemed to have different plans as he stepped over to you and trapped you between himself and the desk by slamming his hands on the either side of you. You jumped at the sudden proximity and looked up at him, surprised. 

“If it is the way you say it is, then tell me: why does your heart rate go up every time I step closer to you?” He tilted his head, making sure to make you feel enclosed as you stared anywhere but at him. “Look at me, Y/N.” He growled under his breath and bend down to block your vision.

“Theo, leave me alone.” You whispered as you leaned away from him. “Just leave me, just like you left me before.” You closed your eyes as you remembered the horrible time you had trying to get over him. All the feelings rushed back to you in that instant as he stood mere inches away from you.

“You keep talking about how I left without saying anything when you don’t even know what happened, do you?” You fell silent after he muttered, giving him a chance to continue. “You say that you finally got together with your friends like nothing had happened. If that was so, they would have told you what they did to me.” 

“What do you mean ‘they did to you’?” You asked and furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Part of you did not want to listen to what he had to say but you seemed to push that part away with the passing second.

“They are the reason I left without a word. They sent me to hell. And I am not talking figuratively, I’m talking literally.” He glared down at you as if he was reliving the memory. You could see the muscles in his arms tensing up as he turned his head away, exhaling a rushed breath. 

“You have no idea what it was like.” He shook his head as he stared at nothing in particular. “I don’t want to go back. Never again.” He muttered before finally turning back to you, an unfamiliar emotion in his eyes.

“Theo,” You muttered and paused as you tried to think of words- any at all. But, you were left speechless after the learning that your own pack had been involved in your ex-boyfriend’s disappearance.

“You can’t continue to blame me, Y/N. I didn’t even have any control over it.” He sighed before clutching his head and looking back at you. “I just want to know if what you feel for me is... just hatred.” He trailed off and gulped before opening his mouth again. “Or do you feel the same way you used to?”

“Theo, I-”

“Does anyone else make your heart beat the way I do? Tell me.” He leaned his forehead against yours and you felt your heart race the very instant.

“Don’t be so persistent, Theo.” You closed your eyes as you focused on his heart beat. His heart was racing just like yours and his breathing had become heavy, as had yours.

“Y/N, give us another chance.” He mumbled and you felt him place his hands on the either side of your jaw to cradle your face gently.

“Why?” You whispered and opened your eyes soon after you were responded with silence. You looked up to see his conflicted gaze as he tried to say something. When he noticed you open your eyes, however, something in him seemed to spark.

“Because I love you.” He whispered back, making you widen your eyes in shock. “I know: I never said it before, which is why I’m saying it now. I care about you, Y/N. I don’t want to let you go.” Your hands subconsciously went up to his while they still rested against your jaw as he momentarily closed his eyes.

“Do you... do you mean it?” You hesitated and he opened his eyes to look at you before nodding instantly. You sighed as you thought over it before biting your lip. 

“Don’t make me regret this, Raeken.” You finally accepted and his expression lightened up as soon as you finished your sentence. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He whispered as he leaned closer and bumped his nose against you, as if asking for your permission. When you chuckled, he finally closed the gap between you and connected his lips with yours. Without wasting a second, he tilted his head to deepen the kiss as your hands wandered in his hair. In response, he pressed his body closer to yours and let his hands grab your waist.

You pulled away slightly to catch your breath but Theo followed your lips as soon as they left his, capturing you in another kiss.

“Theo-” You mumbled between the kisses he bestowed upon you and he hummed in satisfaction before finally tugging on your bottom lip and letting go. After looking at your expression, a satisfied smirk crossed his face as he pulled you closer by the waist. You wrapped your hands around his neck and looked at him as a small smile appeared on your lips.

“I love you too, Theo Raeken.” You mumbled as you played with the back of his hair lightly, making him widen his eyes a little. 

“I know.” A smug look crossed his face as you shook your head before remembering why he came to you in the first place.

“By the way, uh, I still can’t help you with the bullet.” He chuckled as he saw your troubled expression.

“That’s fine. That bullet was only an excuse, anyway.” He winked at you as you gasped in disbelief and mock betrayal, making him hug you closer. 

“Though, I doubt I’ll need more excuses to see you anymore.”

[ibijau]

Worst engagement AU // on AO3

Lan Xichen runs from the Cloud Recesses

warning for some mentions of violence and minor character deaths. In the end, I went and cut this chapter in two because it was getting out of hand. I blame Meng Yao!

It starts as a pleasant enough day. Lan Xichen is overseeing a class of their youngest juniors, helping them practice their calligraphy. He always enjoys teaching that and seeing the little ones so focused. There’s a few tongues sticking out in concentration, which Lan Qiren would comment on… but Lan Qiren isn’t here, and Lan Xichen is undisturbed. He finds it cute if anything. Lan Wangji too used to do it. Besides, for now it’s more important to have the children focus on their brushwork. They’ll think of their posture later.

Whenever he gets a few seconds without anyone asking for help, Lan Xichen allows himself to think of the letter he needs to write to Nie Huaisang, one that he will send to Lanling rather than Qinghe, since his fiancé will be headed there soon, before coming to stay a while in Gusu. Lan Xichen has negotiated with his uncle to have reduced duties when Nie Huaisang is here. Lan Qiren wasn’t happy about it, but eventually gave in when he realised Lan Xichen would be too distracted to be any good to him anyway. So Lan Xichen has been planning things for the two of them to do, walks in the mountains if the weather allows, more painting lessons if it doesn’t. He’s found melodies from the Qinghe region in the library that he’s hoping Nie Huaisang will be willing to hear. There should also be enough time for at least one trip to Gusu so they can hang out together somewhere different and have a meal Nie Huaisang will enjoy more than the usual fares of the Cloud Recesses. 

And then if Nie Huaisang is willing maybe they’ll kiss again. Lan Xichen is trying not to hope too much for that, his fiancé won’t be as bored as he was at that conference in Nightless City, but still maybe, just maybe…

Just as his thoughts are trailing in a direction they really shouldn't take while teaching, the classroom door opens and Lan Qiren comes in, followed by a very puzzled looking disciple. 

"Class is dismissed," Lan Qiren barks at the children. "Lan Chengfu will take you to the dorms while waiting for further instructions. If you disobey him or cause trouble, you'll be punished later. Xichen! You're coming with me." 

His nephew startles at the urgency in his uncle's voice, but nods and follows him out without questions. Answers still come soon enough, his uncle explaining the situation as they nearly run toward the library. 

"Wen Xu has come to the Cloud Recesses and is accusing us of unorthodoxy. He is demanding that we burn our library and the inner clan's residence in penance." 

"Can… can he do that?" Lan Xichen gasps. "It's ridiculous, we're not…" 

"He also wants you and your brother to come to Qishan for re-education." 

"You mean as hostages. So they've realised after all that they need to strike now…" 

It's everything Lan Xichen has most feared. The Wen deciding to make the first move at their convenience, when their opponents aren't quite ready, when so many sects are still so willing to bend over to avoid war… 

"What are we going to do?" Lan Xichen pants as they enter the library, only to gasp at the scene there. 

A dozen disciples are present, urgently trying to shove as many books and scrolls as they can inside qiankun bags. Lan Wangji is among them, seeming a little dazed by what's happening. He shares their uncle's love of books and academia to a much higher degree than Lan Xichen, and his brother cannot imagine what shock it must be for him to find that someone is willing to have all this knowledge destroyed. 

"Hurry!" Lan Qiren barks. "Sect Leader Lan won't be able to keep him distracted forever! Wangji, go out and keep watch." 

At that order Lan Wangji throws his uncle a pleading look, as if to say there are still too many books to be put away and he simply cannot do anything else.

"Uncle, I'll go out," Lan Xichen offers. 

Before he can take one step, Lan Qiren grabs his wrist to keep him in place. 

"Stay. You'll be the one to make a run for it, if it comes to that. Wangji, do as I tell you!" 

While his brother reluctantly obeys, Lan Xichen feels the air punched out of him. 

"Uncle, surely it should be you who…" 

Lan Qiren shoves a qiankun bag in his hands and pushes him toward the shelves. 

"You're Gusu Lan's heir. If something happens to the sect, it must be you who rebuild it. Your brother and I will stay behind to buy you time to escape. Now get to work. Take everything you can. Quickly!" 

"You think he might…" 

"Get to work!" 

Pinching his lips to keep himself silent, Lan Xichen obeys. He tries at first to to only pick up work directly relating to Gusu Lan's method of cultivation, but that's too slow, it requires too much thinking. He ends up doing the same as the other disciples and just grabbing everything he can. He focuses on that almost mechanical gesture, trying his best not to think about the way his uncle is contemplating their entire sect's slaughter as a real possibility. 

They all work in tense silence for a little while until a commotion makes itself heard from outside. As one they all turn toward the door, freezing when a cry is heard. 

"Sect Leader!" Lan Wangji shouts, voice filled with anguish. 

Without thinking Lan Xichen tries to dash to the door, only to be stopped again by his uncle. This time Lan Xichen tries to pull free because his brother needs him, but Lan Qiren's hold on him remains strong. 

"Everyone, bring Xichen your bags and stay put until I tell you otherwise." 

The disciples meekly obey. Lan Xichen lets them attach the bags to his belt, enough of them to cover all his waist, his gaze never leaving the door. There are sounds of fighting outside now, which Lan Xichen cannot ignore. His uncle has to pull him toward the back of the library like a capricious child, before pushing him toward a window.

“Go!” Lan Qiren order. “I’ll protect Wangji. Don’t come back until you can be sure the Wens aren’t watching, and when you do, come through the mountains, not the main gate. Keep a low profile, stay away from other sects. I don’t think it’d be wise to go to Qinghe until things have calmed down, the Wens are probably waiting for an excuse to come after them as well.”

“I can’t leave alone!” Lan Xichen begs. “Uncle, at least Wangji…”

“Wangji will do his duty. Do yours, and save what you can of our knowledge. Hurry, or they’ll realise what we are doing!”

Even though there’s no time to lose, Lan Xichen wastes a few more seconds by hugging his uncle before climbing through the window and leaving the library.

Running is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, but as soon as he’s sure he won’t attract attention, Lan Xichen runs.

Excessive emotion is forbidden, but he cries as he heads toward the mountains, fearful for his brother, for his uncle, for his sect.

Private fights are forbidden, but nobody told that to the Wens waiting at the border of the barrier that surrounds the Cloud Recesses, who attack Lan Xichen the instant he steps out.

It’s not the first time Lan Xichen is in a fight against members of another sect. He’s had chances to spar with Nie Mingjue quite a few times, as well as with some guest disciples. But it was always that: sparring. The Wen cultivators who are after him now aren’t trying to learn or to show off, they’re trying to capture him, dead or alive. Dead more than alive, Lan Xichen guesses from their aggressive movements and his past encounters with Wen Xu. Lan Xichen fights the way he’s been taught to do, strikes and counter-strikes until there’s an opening for a serious blow that would incapacitate his opponent.

In training, Lan Xichen has never taken such a chance to actually maim a person. When the opening appears here, he hesitates for a second to take it, unwilling to spill blood when it goes against so many of the rules he’s been taught. The Wen cultivator he’s fighting at that moment has no such qualms and thrusts his sword under his ribs.

Lan Xichen doesn’t even think. His sword moves of its own volition and slashes at the man’s throat, spraying red around them.

The next one is horrifyingly easy to kill as well, now that Lan Xichen has done it once. The sharp pain on his side helps. It’s them or him and he cannot die, not when his uncle trusts him to protect their sect’s legacy.

-

Lan Xichen spends the next few days fleeing from the Wens. He only eats whatever wild fruit he can recognise, having brought no money with him, unwilling anyway to risk the safety of civilians. He barely rests, fearful to be caught unaware. The wound on his side keeps reopening every time the Wens catch up with him and pull him in a fight. After a week of this, Lan Xichen can feel himself getting weaker and weaker. He thinks he’s developing a fever, though it’s hard to say. He might just be exhausted.

He is flying away after yet another scuffle when it finally becomes too much. He simply doesn’t have the strength to control his sword anymore and falls down to the ground. The pain of the impact leaves him gasping for breath, but since he was flying low to avoid detection, he sustains no injury. He is, however, too exhausted to even try to get up, and so he lays there on the grass, waiting to be found and captured. It should have been his uncle taking away the books. Lan Qiren would never have weakened so quickly.

It takes little time for footsteps to approach. Lan Xichen, too tired to turn his head and look at his assailants, closes his eyes and awaits his fate. He feels a shadow fall over him, but no blows come to him.

“Gongzi, are you hurt?” a surprisingly gentle voice asks. “I was on the road and I saw you fall… do you need help?”

Slowly, Lan Xichen opens his eyes again. Instead of Wen cultivators, he finds a young man looming over him with a concerned expression. There’s something a little familiar about his face, though Lan Xichen doubts he’s ever met him.

“Don’t stay here,” Lan Xichen orders in a rasp. “If they find you, they’ll hurt you.”

The young man’s eyebrows rise high in surprise at this answer, but he doesn’t leave. His expression turns calculating instead. He looks Lan Xichen over, raises his head to look around, then turns his eyes back to the young man lying on the grass.

“Gongzi, if you allow me, I will take you to safety,” he offers. “I’m on my way home to Yunping City, my horse is right there on the road… if I help you, can you walk until there? I’ll help you get on its back, but I fear I don’t have the strength to carry you.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Lan Xichen protests.

The young man smiles at his answer. He has a pleasant smile, Lan Xichen finds, though it doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

“Let me decide what risks I take,” he replies. “And answer my question. If I help, can you walk?”

Closing his eyes again, Lan Xichen quickly checks his body for any serious injury. Aside from being exhausted and the deep wound on his side, everything is fine.

“I should manage. Thank you.”

The young man doesn’t reply, but carefully helps Lan Xichen sit up. His head is swimming at first from the change of position, but before long and with some help from this stranger, Lan Xichen manages to stand up and even walk. There’s a gentle slope toward the road, which is good because the young man really doesn’t have much strength. He’s a little taller than most ordinary people, but compared to Lan Xichen he is still short, and definitely on the slender side. For some reason, Lan Xichen is reminded of Nie Huaisang… but in fairness, it doesn’t take much for him to think of Nie Huaisang these days.

It’s a bit of a struggle for Lan Xichen to get on the horse, but they manage anyway. Perhaps judging that Lan Xichen’s bright white robes might attract too much attention, the young man takes off his own outer robes and throws them over Lan Xichen’s shoulders before take his horse’s reins to get moving.

It is half day ride to Yunping City and before long, the young man must get uncomfortable with the silence because he starts volunteering information about himself to make conversation. Lan Xichen, although struggling to stay awake, listens and catches the general idea of his saviour’s life.

The young man’s name is Meng Yao and while his mother is of very low origins, his father is a cultivator from Lanling Jin (later, when he feels better, Lan Xichen takes a good look at Meng Yao and guesses who, exactly, fathered him). He tried to join that sect himself, but was rejected because of his mother’s low blood and had to settle for an ordinary life. He now works as a bookkeeper in Yunping City for a rich merchant and is just returning from checking on some issues with an associate of his employer. He’s renting a room in the outskirts of town, and while it is not quite worthy of housing a cultivator, Meng Yao promises that at least nobody will think to look for Lan Xichen there.

By the time they reach the room in question, Lan Xichen can barely stand. They make it up the stairs with great difficulty. The last thing Lan Xichen remembers before passing out is being laid down on a thin bed.

When Lan Xichen wakes up, he finds that his silk clothes have been changed to simpler ones, his headband removed, and his wound has been tended to. The qiankun bags and his sword have been left next to the mattress. There’s a note next to his pillow explaining that Meng Yao had to go meet his employer to report on his journey, but he should be back in a few hours. He advises Lan Xichen to rest, and promises he will bring food when he returns.

Grateful for the kindness of this stranger and still too exhausted to do much else, Lan Xichen falls back to sleep.

He wakes up again after some amount of time to the sound of a door opening. On sheer instinct his hand reaches for Shuoyue but as he grasps the handle, Meng Yao comes in, carrying provisions. The young man freezes in fear for a second at the sight of Lan Xichen ready to unsheathe his weapon, but his expression quickly mellows into a pleasant smile.

“I’m glad to see that gongzi is already better,” Meng Yao says, closing the door behind him. “As you see, I brought food. Here, take as much as you need,” he adds, carefully dropping a filled basket on the edge of the bed. “You cannot heal on an empty stomach.”

“You eat as well,” Lan Xichen replies, taking a small bun from the basket but refusing to bite into it until Meng Yao sits next to the bed and does the same.

The food is different from what Lan Xichen is used to, more seasoned as is typical of the area, but he devours it without protest, only making sure that his host gets his fair share as well. Between this, the tea served to him, and the rest that he’s gotten, Lan Xichen already feels better. When he mentions the idea of leaving though, Meng Yao frowns at him.

“Gongzi, I understand that cultivators heal differently but you are unreasonable,” he says, not quite scolding and yet making Lan Xichen feel chastised. “I understand this house is not what you are used to, but please bear with it for a few days until you can move without worsening your wound.”

“It’s not about your room!” Lan Xichen protests, horrified that he might have given that impression. “Meng gongzi, I am only worried about bringing danger to you, and putting a strain on your resources.”

Meng Yao smiles and tilts his head slightly.

“Gongzi, I’m not so poor that I cannot help you. You… you are used to better things I suppose, but I’m not living so uncomfortably as you seem to think, so don’t worry. This isn’t a hassle at all. As for danger… gongzi, with everything that’s happening lately, I can imagine what sort of trouble you’re in, and I’m not worried. The people who are after you would not come to such a place, and they must be too busy checking that all their hostages are being delivered.”

“What hostages?”

Just like yesterday, Meng Yao’s expression gets calculating again, though this time it retains a certain warmth.

“Gongzi, aren’t you running from the indoctrination?” he asks. When Lan Xichen shakes his head, Meng Yao looks him over and frowns slightly. “I see. You must have been on the run for a bit then. The news is everywhere, even us ordinary folks talk of little else. Apparently, the great Qishan Wen sect has decided that other cultivators were badly trained and needed to be shown better, so every sect has to send all their children and all their junior disciples there. Anyone who resists is killed or taken by force, or so it is said.”

Lan Xichen thinks of Lan Wangji, back in the Cloud Recesses. He thinks of Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang in Qinghe.

Maybe he ate too much, too fast, because he suddenly feels like throwing up. If something happened to them…

“It is only a rumour!” Meng Yao quickly adds, his hand rising toward Lan Xichen's shoulder as if to comfort him, then dropping again without making contact. “The juniors of the sect in Yunping City have gone away, yes, but it was all done without violence. From what I heard, only that great sect in Gusu opposed any resistance and had to be punished, but all the other ones have simply complied. Although if gongzi wishes it, I can try to find more details. My employer deals with the local sect sometimes and they wouldn’t find it too odd if I came to visit.”

“Please, don’t do anything that might bring attention to yourself,” Lan Xichen requests, his dizziness increasing at the idea of what punishment might have been inflicted upon his sect. Wen Xu is known to be imaginative for these things. 

He hopes Lan Wangji is well. If they hurt him while Lan Xichen ran away like a coward… he should have stayed, he should have fought, there couldn’t have been that many of them. His uncle ordered him to run, he had to, but maybe just this once he should have disobeyed.

“I will still pay attention to what’s being said,” Meng Yao replies. “I understand that gongzi might not be comfortable telling me his name and sect. I’m not asking for it!” he adds with a hand gesture when Lan Xichen opens his mouth, either to protest or apologise. “If it becomes necessary, I trust gongzi to share relevant information. Otherwise, I will not probe.”

“Aren’t you trusting me too much, Meng gongzi?”

“You trust me as well, gongzi, don’t you?” Meng Yao retorts, seemingly amused now. “I told you to rest, and you did even though I could have gone to fetch your enemies. I brought you food, and you ate it, even when I could have poisoned it to make you easier to capture. Gongzi should be more careful of strangers. For all he knows, his enemies have offered a reward for his capture and spread his description already.”

Lan Xichen startles at the news, but Meng Yao continues smiling peacefully.

“You already know who I am,” Lan Xichen states.

Meng Yao laughs.

“A description is such a vague thing,” he protests. “It is true that Qishan Wen is looking for someone but if I’m honest, I don’t think I’ve ever laid eyes on such a person. All they’re speaking about is a young man in white with a headband and a wound. But gongzi, aside from the wound, that’s not you at all.”

“Where did you put my headband?” Lan Xichen asks. It did not matter earlier when he still felt weak, but he’s starting to feel naked without it. Not to mention the vague disgust he feels at the thought someone touched it. Even Nie Huaisang hasn’t dared, although Lan Xichen almost offered it in Nightless City, right before his fiancé’s friends found them.

“Is it really important?” Meng Yao asks. “It is very recognisable.”

“It’s an heirloom,” Lan Xichen explains. “It’s important to my family.”

He expects Meng Yao to scold him again in that gentle manner he has. Instead, the young man nods in understanding and shuffles away from the bed so he can lift a plank from the floor. In the space underneath, Lan Xichen catches glimpses of white as Meng Yao digs out his ribbon. Lan Xichen gratefully takes it back and although he desperately wants to put it back in its proper place, he decides instead to roll his sleeve and tie it around his arm. A compromise. The rules say it must be worn, they never actually say where.

Meng Yao nods approvingly.

“It might be safer that way,” he says. “If gongzi allows, I should have enough space to also hide those qiankun bags until gongzi is fit to leave. I would have hidden them already, but gongzi became very agitated when I touched them while changing him, and I feared it would distress him too much if you did not see them upon waking.”

“Meng gongzi is very considerate,” Lan Xichen replies with a yawn he cannot suppress. “I’m sorry, that was…”

“Gongzi is tired, it’s normal,” Meng Yao cuts him with a small laugh. “Go back to sleep, we can talk more tomorrow. I have asked my employer to let me have a few days off to recover from travelling. I will be able to check on your wounds, and to go out for information.”

Although he feels guilty for disrupting the young man’s life so much, Lan Xichen is too tired to protest again. He can only lay down again, and watches as Meng Yao puts away the remains of their meal, then starts hiding away the bags containing Gusu Lan’s knowledge.

“Meng gongzi, before I sleep, I have one question. Why save me?”

Meng Yao shoots him a surprised look, as if it were obvious to him.

“You were this unwell,” he explains, gesturing at Lan Xichen’s body, “and your first instinct was not to beg for help, but to worry about my safety. I figured even if you turned out to be a thief or a murderer, you would not be a bad man.”

Lan Xichen can only smile at that answer as he closes his eyes.

Meng Yao can accuse him of being too trusting, but he’s hardly any better.

The days that follow are odd. 

Lan Xichen cannot help but feel guilty that he is in this safe place, with someone he’s already starting to think of as a friend of sorts, while his family’s fate is uncertain. Meng Yao, against his wishes, has found out that Gusu Lan still stands, even though a large part of the Cloud Recesses burned down. He has also found out that Lan Wangji is alive (Lan Xichen cried in relief) and was only taken away as a hostage, like most young men his age all over the cultivation world. But this leaves as many questions as it answers. Nobody knows what is happening to the hostages in Qishan, and Meng Yao cannot find out how many were wounded or died in the Cloud Recesses.

Sensing his ever growing distress, Meng yao distracts him with chatting, or by asking questions about cultivation. It’s obvious that the subject deeply interests him. It’s equally clear that he knows very little about it, and mostly tried to learn through the sort of fake manuals that sadly get sold as the real deal. As thanks for his hospitality, Lan Xichen sets out to teach him a few basic principles so that at least, if his interest remains in the future, Meng Yao knows enough not to be fooled again by crooks. Besides, it gives them something to do as they wait for his wound to heal.

Lan Xichen feels almost disappointed when at last, Meng Yao decides one day that his wound is now healed enough for him to leave. It has been little more than a week, but Lan Xichen already feels deep affection for the other young man, and he believes the feeling is mutual.

“I do not mind if gongzi stays a little longer,” Meng Yao tells him after giving his diagnosis. “Until it is certain that things are calmer out there.”

It’s tempting, immensely so. Time passes differently in this room, in the company of this new friend. But Lan Xichen has responsibilities out there in the world, and Meng Yao cannot stay away from his own work forever. This respite has come to an end.

“You have done so much for me already,”Lan Xichen says with a sad smile. “I cannot put you in more danger. In fact, I’ll try to leave tonight. I need to go…”

He needs to go to Gusu, his first thought is, but that’s not exact. He wants to go to Gusu so he can check on his people. He wants, also, to go to Qinghe and finally figure out if Nie Huaisang was among the hostages. He prays that he wasn’t, but that would be open rebellion and Meng Yao would have heard about it. All he can do, then, is hope that Nie Huaisang is acting smart and is staying out of trouble, wherever he is.

“Even if you leave, it’ll be dangerous,” Meng Yao notes. “Everyone says it will probably come to war. I wouldn’t be surprised if a number of sects start recruiting soon.”

Something in his tone is almost wishful. Considering some of their conversations and the way they have passed time together, Lan Xichen can only smile.

“You are thinking of trying again to join Lanling Jin.”

Meng Yao startles and looks at him like a dog caught trying to steal a piece of meat before smiling apologetically.

“Gongzi must find me an unsavoury character, wanting to take advantage of such a situation to push for a second chance.”

“On the contrary, I hope this might give you the chance to prove your value. Any sect should be lucky to have a man as clever as you in their rank.”

Meng Yao’s cheeks colour at the praise. He turns away, trying to hide a smile. It’s endearing, truly. Lan Xichen can’t help thinking of Nie Huaisang, so embarrassed at the smallest of compliments. This, in turns, gives him an idea.

“Meng gongzi, must it absolutely be Lanling Jin that you join?”

“It would be… preferable. I made a promise to my mother.”

Lan Xichen winces. That detail, and what he knows of Jin Guangshan’s reputation, tells him more about Meng Yao’s family than the young man probably intended to share. While open on other subjects, Meng Yao tries to avoid talking about his mother if possible, refusing to give any details save to say that she was of low birth. Still, Lan Xichen finds himself comforted in his idea; if he is right about Meng Yao’s father, then his friend should have great potential, enough to make up for a late start.

“Lanling Jin does not easily take in outsiders,” he explains as gently as he can. “But other sects are more welcoming. Meng gongzi, I’m sure you know of Qinghe Nie?”

“I do,” Meng Yao confirms. Then, with only a moment of hesitation, he adds. “Why not your sect though?”

“Mine is sadly as restrictive as Lanling Jin, or else I would offer my help and take you along with me,” Lan Xichen sighs. “But I know well the leader of Qinghe Nie and I know if you come with my recommandation, you will be given the chance you deserve. Sect Leader Nie is a man who will never turn away anyone willing to work hard, and he values competence above birth.”

That gets Meng Yao's attention, his eyes burning even if his smile remains mild.

“Gongzi is too generous.”

“Not at all. I simply believe you can rise above your current circumstances… and it is your wish to do so, isn’t it?”

“Gongzi saw right through me,” Meng Yao admit with a small laugh. “I… I am grateful, truly.”

“As am I,” Lan Xichen replies earnestly, taking the young man’s hands. “Meng Yao, even if our paths must separate for now, I really hope we meet again when you are in Qinghe.”

In answer, Meng Yao gives him the brightest, most open smile he’s shown so far. It makes him look a lot younger suddenly, and once more Lan Xichen finds himself of Nie Huaisang. 

If Meng Yao goes to Qinghe, these two might meet. In fact, knowing Nie Huaisang, there is no way he won't notice a new disciple looking so different from their usual recruits, and he's too curious to stay away. Hopefully, this will translate into Nie Huaisang stubbornly deciding to claim Meng Yao as a friend, as he did with others. 

Lan Xichen has a feeling these two could get along wonderfully, given the chance.

-

Now that he isn't trying to avoid a band of pursuing Wens, the return journey to the Cloud Recesses is far shorter. Lan Xichen tries to be careful and to check he isn't followed, but he encounters no problems. It is still unnerving to take such precautions just to go home. Lan Xichen hates that he has to come to a secret back entrance, hates that he dares not go inside the barrier, hates that he must send a butterfly message to his uncle to warn him of his presence and then hide until Lan Qiren either comes to meet him or gives him new instructions.

He waits for hours, hidden up among the branches of an old tree, until night falls. Somewhere far in a distance, Lan Xichen thinks he can hear the curfew bell, although that might be only wishful thinking. Still, soon after, his uncle crosses the barrier and Lan Xichen quickly jumps down from his branch to meet him.

Lan Qiren, always severe by nature, seems to have aged a decade in the couple of weeks since his nephew last saw him. There’s a deep frown carved into his face which grows more pronounced when their eyes meet. Lan Xichen tenses, fearing that he will get scolded for being gone this long, for his commoner’s clothes, for not wearing his ribbon. Instead, his uncle looks him over once and nods his approval. When they meet again, Lan Xichen will have to properly thank Meng Yao for all his advice on making himself less noticeable.

“I’m sorry for not coming home sooner,” Lan Xichen apologises in lieu of greetings. “I ran into some trouble and had to stay hidden. Don’t worry though, the books are fine!”

“And you?”

“As well as I can hope to be,” Lan Xichen replies. There’s no need to mention his wound since it’s healed. His uncle might scold him for being careless in a fight. "I've heard the Wens burned the library?" 

"I burned it," Lan Qiren corrects. 

Lan Xichen stares at his uncle with horror, hoping that he's suddenly developed a sense of humour. Lan Qiren stares right back, something almost challenging in his expression.

"Wangji and your father were trying to delay them," he states. "Wen Xu lost patience and tried to strike Wangji, but your father took the blow for him and fainted. By the time you'd been sent out, Wangji was on the ground as well and Wen Xu gave me an ultimatum : the library or my nephew." 

"Uncle, I'm… I'm sorry. It must have been a hard choice." 

"It was not hard," Lan Qiren assures him, challenging again, as if he’s had to defend his decision more than once already, and will not hesitate to do it once more. 

Again, Lan Xichen stares. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes and he wants to hug his uncle, though he dares not. Their uncle is not an affectionate man, but here and there Lan Xichen gets reminded that this is the man who raised his brother and him and cared for them as best as he could, the other parent in their life, the only parent left after their mother’s death. 

"How is Wangji?" he quickly asks, trying to hide his emotion. 

"He only sustained a minor injury, nothing to worry about."

"And yourself?" 

Lan Qiren waves his hand to signify that is unimportant, though his face turns more severe. 

"We are trying to keep this secret for the time being, but news will soon filter out. Xichen, your father died a few days after the attack." 

"Oh." 

Lan Xichen's first thought is an awful one: he's dead, so what? He was never there anyway. 

It is unfilial. So is the fact that Lan Xichen never really bothered to worry about his father. And he knows he should feel sad, or perhaps angry and vengeful, but truly the news just leaves him cold. Lan Xichen hasn't seen his father since the death of Nie Mingjue’s father, and even then they barely talked. In a way, Qingheng-Jun died at the same time as his wife, and was mourned less. 

"Are you going to succeed him?" Lan Xichen asks. 

"Why would I when he has a son who is nearly of age?" Lan Qiren retorts, digging into his sleeve until he finds a jade token which he hands to his nephew. 

Lan Xichen almost doesn't take it, recognising it as the token of sect leaders, passed down from one generation to the next since the barrier around the Cloud Recesses was first erected. It is beautiful in spite of its age, almost as white as snow and delicately carved in a way ordinary tokens are not. It is a sign of leadership in the Cloud Recesses and out of it. Although it has not been seen in years, Lan Xichen knows it will be recognised immediately by other sect leaders. 

"Uncle, I'm not ready," he whispers. 

Not for this burden he only just started really training for. Not for this war that came too soon.

"Nobody is ever ready for these things," Lan Qiren replies. "But you're not going to be alone. I've been there as well, I'm not going to abandon you." 

Not like Qingheng-Jun did to all of them. Lan Qiren has always put most of the blame for their situation on Madam Lan, but his brother's faults were too great to not let him have his share of resentment.

Lan Xichen is terrified of this new responsibility, but he will not be his father. If his sect needs him, he will be there.

"What should I do? If I return openly…" 

"It would be unwise. Let the Wens think we are broken and destabilised a little longer. I don't think Wen Ruohan ever realised how little your father's opinion mattered, so he won’t see that nothing has really changed for us. He's a powerful man in a leading position, and he underestimates the strength of those lesser than him. We'll use that."

Having said that, Lan Qiren shares his plan. 

What the Four Great Sect will choose is important, he has determined, but much like Wen Ruohan they tend to forget the power of those under them. The myriad of smaller sects that exist around them have their own strengths. Some are already in alliances with the Great Sects, but most are fiercely independent and might remain neutral in the coming war, even though the Wens have shown them little mercy in the past. But if someone were to go to them personally and ask for their help, they might be more than willing to join the fight. 

"What if I can't convince them?" Lan Xichen worries. 

"We are one of the oldest sects in the country, asking for their assistance after their children have been taken from them," Lan Qiren retorts. "You have a good reputation among your elders, Xichen. Show them respect, listen to their demands, and I know they will listen to yours. I know you can do this. You've never disappointed me before.”

It is another weight falling on Lan Xichen's shoulder, another responsibility he's not quite sure he can take on. Still, he'll try his best.

He must be worthy of his uncle's trust.

-

Flying tirelessly, Lan Xichen visits sect after sect, starting with those that have a good relationship with Gusu Lan so he can get used to this mission among people who bear him no ill will and are already likely to let themselves be won over. Each time, he starts bluntly by explaining that although none of them want it, war is coming. If the indoctrination camp is not enough to start it, then it is still only a question of time before Qishan Wen goes too far.

It comes as a surprise to Lan Xichen that most of those small sects are more than willing to promise they will join whatever alliance the Great Sects will build. But of course, if for a sect like Gusu Lan it is concerning to see twenty disciples be taken away, for some of those smaller places, that means the entirety of their junior disciples. Some even had to send girls or grown adults to have the right number of hostages to offer. 

Besides, it is hardly the first time that Qishan Wen gave them offence. If things have been rough for the Great Sects in recent years, they have been far worse for the smaller ones. Lan Xichen is told about Night Hunts interrupted, preys stolen, territories taken by force, marriages obtained through threat, and worse things still. Qishan Wen, once, offered itself as the greatest authority in the cultivation world and promised to help settle disputes between lesser sects, but in recent times it has started using that vocation to bully others into paying heavy bribes to have their rights respected, or heavy fines if they cannot defend themselves.

And that’s without getting into those times when cultivators have been simply murdered for standing up to high ranking members of Qishan Wen.

When he gets to Baling Ouyang, Lan Xichen hears one such story from its sect leader. His eldest son happened to be Night Hunting with a friend a few years ago when he stumbled upon a party led by Wen Xu that was after the same prey. Sect Leader Ouyang never found out the exact details of it, but both boys died, supposedly after inviting Wen Xu to join their Night Hunt but tragically underestimating the power of the creature they were hunting. Wen Xu, of course, made sure to avenge them and killed the beast himself.

“And now my second son is in their hands,” Sect Leader Ouyang sighed. “I have little hope of seeing him alive again. The Wens are looking for any excuse to slaughter the rest of us.”

“We have to hope they are wiser than that,” Lan Xichen replies, thinking of his brother, of his fiancé. To lose either of them could break him. It would break him, if he could be afforded that luxury, but he is not his father, he will not let grief swallow him. “But if it comes to war…”

“Gusu Lan can count on Baling Ouyang. I will not miss a chance to avenge my son.”

Lan Xichen thanks the other sect leader for this promise, bowing before him a little more deeply than he should when they are, technically, equals. But he feels for this man who lost so much and yet is still ready to take such risks, and it never hurts to show proper respect to an elder. 

Lan Xichen is about to take his leave, hoping to maybe reach another sect before the day is over, when the door barges open, letting in a small flow of people. Worried about being seen and recognised even in disguise, Lan Xichen quickly hides behind the sect leader’s throne and turns around, wondering how to leave while the newcomers all start shouting. 

"Sect Leader, we're back, we escaped!" 

"Sect Leader, they starved us and took our swords!" 

"There was a giant turtle with a snake head, it attacked us but the Jiangs helped us get out!”

"Where is A-Hui?" Secter leader Ouyang asks anxiously. 

"He's in Lanling with all the wounded," someone answers. "The young masters from Lanling and Qinghe made all the wounded swap clothes with people from allied clans of Lanling Jin to make sure they'd be taken to safety quicker. And then…" 

"Nie Huaisang was there?" Lan Xichen gasps, turning around to look at the returning boys. "Was he well?" 

The Ouyang disciples are so excited that they don't even care about being addressed so casually by what, to them, must look like nothing more than a visiting merchant. 

"Last we saw him, he was heading north with everyone who couldn't get to their sect alone. He's the one who thought to trick the Jins into taking the wounded, and he said his brother would protect them from the Wens. We thought to follow him as well, but we realised we weren't so far from home so we'd be fine." 

Lan Xichen grins at the news, relieved that his fiancé is well. His heart swells with pride to hear Nie Huaisang talked about in such a complimentary way. It is odd to think of him leading anyone… and yet not so surprising at the same time. Someone who can get Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian to somewhat get along with Jin Zixuan can make people do anything. 

"What about Lan Wangji?" he asks. "Did he go North to Qinghe as well?" 

At this question, the boys' enthusiasm suddenly falls. 

"There was this monster…" 

"Wei Wuxian was staying behind to distract it while we escaped…" 

"It was so huge, I think Lan Wangji tried to help and…" 

"The passage became blocked, they stayed trapped inside."

Lan Xichen has to put one hand on Sect Leader Ouyang’s throne to support himself. 

“Where did this happen?” he asks.

“It’s fine, the Jiangs are going to rescue them!”

“Tell me where this happened,” Lan Xichen insists, barely restraining himself from shouting. His brother, trapped with a monster… 

“It was on Dusk Creek Mountain,” one Ouyang disciple quickly explains. “A cave hidden near a banyan tree, but the Wens blocked that exit as well. Sir, do you know Lan Wangji?”

Sensing his hesitation, sect leader Ouyang intervenes.

“This man is from the Gusu area but came here to ask for my opinion on a certain matter,” he tells his disciples. “The matter in question is of a delicate nature. Forget you saw him. Go get your injuries checked if you have any, and I’ll tell the cook to make you something quickly. Out now!”

The boys obey without delay, chatting excitedly about the things they want to eat. Lan Xichen watches them go, feeling numb now that he knows their freedom came at the cost of his brother’s. At least he’s not alone in there, at least he’s with Wei Wuxian who, whatever faults he has, is a brilliant cultivator. If anyone can survive such a situation it is the two of them, and yet…

Lan Xichen wants to break down and cry.

Instead he once more thanks sect leader Ouyang for his promised support, reminds him that his visit and the fate of his father must remain secret, and leaves for the next sect. Whatever happens to Lan Wangji, war is still coming, they still need allies. Lan Xichen cannot be his father, cannot let his emotions stop him from doing what’s needed. He does, however, send an urgent message to his uncle to tell him what he’s learned, every detail of it so that Lan Qiren can organise a rescue mission in case the Jiangs don’t.

The answer finds him a few days later: Lan Wangji was rescued by Jiang Fengmian and has already returned home. In his relief, Lan Xichen allows himself the tears he dared not spill earlier. His brother is safe, he is well, he is home.

Lan Xichen breathes again.

-

Half a month later, in the middle of a market, Lan Xichen starts hearing rumours. He doesn’t pay attention at first, rumours are rarely worth listening to. But as he pays for his meal at a stall, the next client leans toward the seller with a worried expression that catches his eyes.

“Old man, your daughter married a man from Yunmeng, right?” the client asks, which gets him a nod. “Have you heard what happened there?”

“About the Wens? I don’t know if I believe that.”

“You should. I was there the day it happened. I saw some of it. It’s worse than people say. They burned the bodies in front of the Lotus Piers, saw it myself! When I passed by they’d just found a kid who’d managed to hide, stabbed him and threw him right into the fire with the dead!”

Lan Xichen almost drops his meal.

“Was Yunmeng Jiang really attacked then?” he gasps.

“More than attacked, it was slaughtered,” the man retorts. “Not a single survivor. They made people from the town come look as they burned the sect leader’s body and his wife. There’s no more Yunmeng Jiang. And from what I’ve heard, the Wens are now going to take over all that cultivation business. They want to establish offices in every city, and anyone who needs a cultivator’s help will have to go through them rather than other sects. That’s how the fight with Yunmeng Jiang started, I’ve heard. Wen Chao wanted to use the Lotus Piers as his office in Yunmeng, and you can imagine how much the Jiangs liked that. Well, maybe they should have swallowed their pride…”

The man goes on to describe what was happening to the civilians of Yunmeng, but Lan Xichen doesn't linger to listen. Putting down his untouched meal, he quickly leaves behind first the stall and then the market. As soon as he’s out of that small town he jumps on his sword and heads back for Gusu.

Lan Xichen has spent the last few weeks telling people that Qishan Wen is about to go too far, but even he would never have imagined something of that magnitude. War cannot be avoided anymore, and only time will tell if they prepared enough for it.

[ianite-simp]

dark!karl pt. 1

this is the first part of this fic, the only part with a happy ending :) 

The others were always underestimating Karl. From the day he washed up on the island, his memory so foggy he could hardly recall how to complete simple tasks, the other champions constantly found little reasons to poke fun at him. While Tom was generally the one doing the teasing, Jordan, the so-called champion of justice rarely intervened. Not that Karl minded, at first. He learned to laugh along quickly; after all, friends would be friends. Still, there were the moments of frustration he felt as he struggled to catch hold of a faint memory, the knowledge of how to craft or construct a simple item, while the other two quickly developed their islands. Even worse were the times he simply couldn’t control his limbs properly. While Tom and Jordan nimbly maneuvered their way through courses and tests of agility, Karl found himself cursing and struggling to make his legs bend the proper way, legs that felt disconnected from his body, as though he were a puppeteer with no clue how to control his puppet.

But the times that were far, far worse than anything else were the brief conversations when Jordan and Tom would bring up their gods. They spoke of them with such a sense of familiarity, of understanding, that Karl found himself eagerly hanging onto every word they said. Listening to them describe the gods so close to them, Karl couldn’t help but admit a shadow of doubt in his mind. Who am I? Why am I here? The others knew where they stood, they felt secure in their alignments. Yet he felt he didn’t quite fit with any of the three, Mianite was too much of a goody-two-shoes, Dianite was downright evil, and Ianite’s actions didn’t quite make sense to him. 

In many of their stories, their memories from other dimensions, a bloke named Tucker was brought up quite a bit. He was Mianite’s champion, the “good guy” hero. It was obvious that the other two missed him, and he could understand why. Almost all of their old jokes, pranks, and stories seemed to tie back to Tucker. Sometimes, listening to the captain and the zombie chat, Karl got the sense of being an outsider, of not belonging. The strange, sidelong looks the priest would give him whenever he brought up the gods didn’t exactly make him feel comfortable, either. It was like Declan was trying to figure out just who he was, a thought that always made Karl snort in amusement. Good luck with that, mate. I don’t even know that. But a feeling of unease would always follow, washing over him in a chilly wave that raised the hair on his arms. He’d hear unfamiliar whispers in the back of his mind, whispers that seemed louder whenever he felt isolated. You’ll never replace Tucker. You’re better than them. You aren’t one of them. You’ll never be as close to them as he was. You don’t belong. 

Of course, he pushed back against the thoughts, attributing them to having a few meads too many with Tom, or not getting enough sleep, or something like that. Something that wouldn’t make him seem mad. But when they came across the prophecy that foretold the coming of the three heroes, everything changed. He was given his role, to be the new champion of Mianite. A replacement, obviously. There couldn’t be another word for it, he was stuck with god with no consideration for who he actually was. He wasn’t, he couldn’t be a golden boy, not like Tucker at least. He liked to have some fun with pranks, cause a bit of chaos. If he should’ve been assigned to any god, it should have been Dianite. A sense of frustration planted itself, heavy and irritating, in the back of his mind as he set to building a temple for Mianite. No one seemed to care about who he was, what he wanted, everyone trusted the bloody prophecy. They just want Tucker back. You’re his replacement.  But he pushed the intrusive thoughts away, throwing himself fully into building the temple. He knew he couldn’t create anything nearly as awe-inspiring as what Jordan and Tom would come up with, given his frequent lapses in memory, but he was determined to do his best. He worked tirelessly over that week, only allowing himself moments to rest when he came close to collapsing. The work absorbed him, and he was glad, because it was a barrier between himself and the rest of the world. As odd as it was, the job of creating a temple for his god was a way of forgetting the gods existed, a way of forgetting the prophecy.

The day of the gods’ arrival came too soon for Karl. Despite being physically drained from it, the hours he spent working on his temple were some of the most peaceful he had known on the island. He barely paid attention as Ianite was summoned, hardly even noticing as she spoke to the priest and the captain. He felt faintly sick, a heavy feeling of anxiety in his stomach, as they approached his temple. Will Mianite approve of me? Or is he going to mock me just like the others? Is he just looking for a temporary replacement? Crossing his arms firmly over his chest in order to hide the faint tremors in his hands, he tried to listen to what Declan was saying. His eyes fixated expectantly on the carefully chiseled throne he had worked tirelessly to create, he felt his heart plummet as the god made no appearance. There was only the faintest echo of a confused, disembodied voice. The temple wasn’t good enough. I’ve completely messed this up. The only thing I had to do right, I botched entirely. I could’ve proved I’m good enough, that I don’t need to be someone else, that I don’t need to fill Tucker’s shoes. He couldn’t hear what Declan was saying anymore, couldn’t hear the feeble attempts at reassuring him, because his pulse was pounding in his head like a judge’s gavel. 

As the others hurried over to Dianite’s temple, Karl lingered at the base of the throne he had painstakingly made, his hand tracing the familiar austere lines of the quartz. He wasn’t as accustomed to praying as the others were, but he couldn’t help but mentally demand, What did I do wrong? Am I not good enough? Silence greeted his hopeless plea. Giving himself a small shake, he left the temple to soar to Tom’s island, doing his best to put up his usual, laid-back front. His jokes at Tom’s expense were half-hearted at best, but Tom was too occupied and Jordan too polite to say anything to him. All the better, really, considering they wouldn’t understand any of the bitterness welling up from the depths of his stomach. After sitting through what felt like an eternity of conversation with Dianite, Karl eagerly took the first opportunity he was given to fly back to his own island. His mind had been mostly occupied with ways he could improve his temple, and he was determined to get a good start on the new plans with what was left of the afternoon. He could show them that he was able to progress, become better. But as he approached his home, he nearly tumbled out of the air as he tried to stop short in the air, stunned by the sight in front of him. Doing his best to recover his spiraling flight with a few clumsy adjustments, he landed in a heap on the beach. Stumbling to his feet without pausing to shake the sand from his clothes, he broke into a run as he headed for his temple. The once pristine, carefully constructed building was reduced to devastated ruin, the walls and pillars barely supporting a crumbling roof. Heaps of smoldering rubble continued to clatter down from the ceiling onto the cracked and half obliterated floor. The throne, what he had worked the hardest on, was barely intact, broad cracks forming veins in the previously unblemished surface. Of all the days for this to happen, why did it have to be today? Why? Rubbing a hand across his eyes in a desperate attempt to hide the stinging tears forming, he let out a low string of curses. Why is it always me?

In the days before the trial, Karl found himself fighting harder and harder with each new hour to hold back the bitterness that seemed determined to hang heavy over him. He couldn’t bring himself to repair his temple, after watching hours of work get absolutely destroyed. He avoided that portion of his island entirely, focusing on his farms, his home - anything but the still smoldering ruins. He didn’t want a reminder of what Tom had done, had likely done without a moment of remorse. On the day of the trial, he tried his best to stay calm and keep his temper in check. Without being properly aware of what he was even saying, he got involved in some mindless debate with Jordan. Anything to keep his mind off what Tom had done. But as they filed into the courthouse, and each took their turn in the cell, he was overwhelmed by a sudden, strange disgust he felt for Tom and his god as the zombie stepped inside. All they do is blow stuff up, and they don’t care one fuckin’ bit. The intensity of the emotion startled him at first, but he allowed himself to wallow in it for the remainder of the trial. He had spent the past two days doing everything he could to be fair and compassionate - but Tom’s blatant disregard for truth destroyed every bit of sympathy he had. 

When Tom was declared guilty and handed his punishment, Karl was struck by a pang of dissatisfaction. After everything he did, all he had to face was some menial labour. Unable to speak up about it without sounding like some sort of sadist,, Karl kept to the side, unaware of the scowl that had stolen over his features. Destroys my temple, all he has to do is spend some time digging himself out of obsidian. They call this fairness? He forced himself to keep quiet, prepared to head back to his island, until Tom requested their attention, and quickly renounced his god in favor of Ianite. Absolute garbage, as if anyone’ll believe that. Renouncing his ways? That’s rich, after he trashed my temple. Barely giving Tom the time to finish what he was saying, Jordan immediately began voicing complaints. Karl lingered a moment longer, but seeing no sincerity in Tom’s assurances of faithfulness, he quickly took off in the direction of his island. The rising irritation made it impossible for him to stay any longer. Stretching his arms out, he took a moment to take in the soft breezes racing by him, the sun warm on his neck, the glinting water far below. While he wasn’t the best at landings, flying with the elytras over the islands never failed to calm him down. All he really had were these islands, no childhood memories or past friends to think of. Just the chain of islands in the vast ocean. The short flight gave some relief to the pent up emotions within him, but the bitterness continued to swirl inside him once he touched down, for hours after the trial had ended.

Luckily, within only a few days, there was a new event to distract him from the mess of emotions, a new chance for him to prove himself worthy of Mianite. A chance to prove yourself better than Tucker. The training grounds, if anything, would be a good distraction, and a way for him to work on regaining proper control of his limbs. As they went through the different challenges, Karl refused to let himself grow discouraged. He hadn’t expected to be the best at any of the tasks, and though they took all of his focus, he found himself starting to enjoy the competitive spirit. He felt closer to being equals with Tom and Jordan than he had in a long time, and needless to say, it was a nice change. By the time they finished messing around on the elytra course, he had almost forgotten the real reason for going through the challenges. A combination of fear and anticipation seemed to take hold of him as he waited anxiously alongside the others for Mianite to appear. With eager shouts, the others spotted him before Karl did, a figure standing just outside the door. Karl’s breath hitched in his throat as he quickly passed through the door to stand before his god. Illuminated by the late afternoon sun, Mianite stood proud and tall, his gaze confident as he surveyed the assembled heroes in front of him. 

“Good afternoon!” He exclaimed, his eyes settling onto Karl as a warm smile formed on his face. An explicable feeling of joy filled Karl’s chest as he met the clear blue eyes of the god, his god. 

“Hello sir,” he replied, adding on as a panicked afterthought, “lookin’ fresh.” He wanted to deck himself after saying that, it just seemed wrong to address a god with such informality. 

But Mianite didn’t seem to care, as he went on to say, “You’ve done so, so well. You really are amazing!” Though he knew it was said to all of them, a warm glow filled Karl as Mianite met his eyes yet again, as though directing the praise all to him. The feeling of satisfaction he got just from hearing his god’s voice, from seeing him and speaking to him, that suddenly made it clear to Karl why Jordan was so devoted to his goddess. After spending several minutes speaking to his god with the familiarity of an old friend, and shoving Tom aside whenever he tried to interrupt, Mianite’s expression grew grave. “I’m afraid I do come carrying a warning.” Snapping his fingers in the air twice, a slim book appeared in his hands, the leather binding worn and faded. “To my favourite, read this.” He held the book out to Karl, who accepted it immediately. His favourite, I’m his favourite. I’ve done something right here, for once. I’m his hero, properly. Mentally shaking off his distracting thoughts, Karl opened the book. It was relatively short, but he chose to read it aloud rather than pass it around immediately.

“Dear Friends,

Thank you for birthing me to this land within this human body. I have heard my Brother, Dianite and Sister, Ianite have come to this world already… I worry they may be sick… Something was not right in Asgard. I built this training ground to both test and build you. You are now the Chosen heroes. Work in unity and leave no-one behind.

The Darkness we all believed to be myth may be amongst you.

The true form has yet to be seen, but the stories have been told that the Darkness is not one being, but many. It inhabits bodies, uses them, then discards them when they are weakened. It is near impossible to tell when the Darkness has claimed a host. Rumours state that it chases power and seeks one who is on the cusp of greatness, hoping to claim it for their own.

Beware my friends, for this could bring us all down. I must now learn how to harness the magic of this land.

Mianite.”

“Spooky, dude,” Jordan commented in the stunned silence. Pocketing the text, Karl shrugged in response, as Tom attempted to take off using his elytras and promptly crashed, Joining the captain’s laughter, Karl brushed off the slight twinge he felt in his temples. Must be a bit of a headache forming, no wonder given all this racket. But I’ve got my god now, and I’ve done something right. I’m just as good as Tucker. The delightfully warm feeling returned to him, practically eliminating the slight ache in his head. Things were getting better for him, finally.

[jadonsanhco]

The Yoga Teacher (smut)

Request: You're City's yoga teacher and John's really impressed by your flexibility and well.. You know..

You were laying all the yoga mats down on the floor when you heard voices coming closer, the Manchester City boys soon entering the room one by one. “Welcome back boys,” you smiled politely while you heard the lads greeting you back, all standing on one of the mats. You took your place in front of them and started the class, reminding them of the stretching and breathing exercise you always used as a warming up. 

“Today I want to work on a few new poses, a little more difficult than the once we did before but I think you’ll be fine,” you said after the warming up. You had already given them a few classes so their bodies were getting used to the stretching and various poses, slowly becoming more and more flexible.

“We’ll start with something you’re slightly familiar with. I’ve made you all touch the floor without bending your knees before, but today I want you to go deeper than that. You should bend down and try to grip your ankles with your hands, so you’re basically folding your body like this,” you bent down and completed the pose with ease, all boys watching you closely and impressed by your abilities before trying it themselves. You weren’t expecting them all to get it and helped some when necessary. After a few more poses you introduced the “Bow Pose”, where you press your hips down to floor and raise your chest while holding your ankles up with your hands behind your back.

While demonstrating this specific pose you heard the boys all lose focus, talking about how they would never be able to do that. One of the players however, was only focusing on your body, his eyes scanning over every detail and resting on your bum which looked perkier than ever. John was incredibly impressed by your flexibility and his mind started wondering how much fun you could have with that, already imagining sex positions you could probably manage with ease.

“Okay, I want you all to just try, you’re more flexible than you know.” John was snapped back to reality by your voice and joined the others in trying to copy the pose you just did.

You giggled at some of the boys falling either side ways or on their faces and decided to help them out. You watched John struggle and walked over to assist him.

“Can I help you?” you asked to make sure he was okay with it. He swallowed and nodded at you, watching you crouch down next to him. You put one of your hands on his lower back and the other one on his chest.

“Okay now try again,” you said. John reached his arms behind his back and grabbed his ankles. You held his hips down and chest up, making sure he was in the right position before slowly letting go of him. “That’s it! Very good,” you smiled at him before walking over to someone else.

During the rest of the class John couldn’t focus anymore, his mind going back to your hands on his body all the time while he watched your body in difficult positions. He wanted to put your flexibility to the test and he was planning on doing it today.

“That’s it for today boys, thank you.” The players all left the room while you went to clean up your stuff. John waited for everyone to be out of the room before he closed the door and walked over to you who didn’t know he was still in the room. You were bent over going through your bag for your water when John walked up behind you. When you stood up again your back hit his chest, making you gasp and jump, instantly turning around to see what, or rather who, you just bumped into.

“John? What are you still doing here?” You asked him while he looked at you through his bright eyes, an emotion in his face you couldn’t quite read. You furrowed your eyebrows when he bit his lip, his eyes staring at yours making you nervous. You had always felt a strong attraction towards John but you never thought you’d be here, the two of you the only ones in the room with a sexual tension in the air.

“I’m just really impressed by your flexibility,” he whispered, his hands finding their way to your waist to pull your body closer to his. You felt yourself get hot and decided to play along, seeing this as your chance to finally have him. “Really? Want to see what else I can do with my body?” The smirk on your lips while you said these words made a groan leave John’s mouth, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to kiss you.

So that’s what he did. He smashed his lips to yours without warning, taking you by surprise. You hummed against his lips before kissing back, your mouths now moving in sync. It didn’t take long for the kiss to get really heated, tongues fighting together while you both roamed your hands around each other’s bodies. John pulled on your top, lifting it above your head leaving you in just your sports bra and leggings. You pulled away to take your bra off as well, while John got rid of his own shirt. His eyes went to your now bare chest, licking his lips at the sight before cupping one of your boobs and attaching his lips to the other. Soft moans left your mouth while your hand went to John’s hair, your fingers playing with his curls making him hum in appreciation.

“John,” you breathed out, making him stop to look up at you. “Please just fuck me,” you said with desperation in your voice, wanting to feel him inside you already. “As you wish,” he winked and pushed your leggings down your legs. He admired your panties for a second before getting rid of those as well. You were now completely naked in front of him, almost making him moan at the sight of your amazing body.

“Bend over for me princess, show me that Puppy Pose you made us do once.” If you weren’t so turned on you would be impressed by John remembering the name. You went down to your knees and stretched you body out, arms in front of you while you arched your back. You squealed when you felt John’s hand coming in contact with the skin of your bum, the sound of the loud smack filling the room and probably leaving a red mark on your ass.

“So gorgeous,” he whispered while caressing your ass, soothing the stinging sensation. He got rid of his own pants and positioned himself behind you. “Are you sure you want this?” He asked to make sure he could continue. “Yes, please John I need you,” you whimpered while he played with your folds, his fingers feeling the dripping wetness.

He didn’t waste any more time and slammed inside you, making you moan loudly at the feeling of his length stretching you out. His hands gripped at your hips roughly, holding you in place while his hips moved at an incredible pace. Your moans filled the room as he was making you feel so good, his name tumbling off your lips in a sensual way.

You whined when John pulled out of you and you looked back at him with a questioning look. “Get on your feet baby girl,” he demanded and held his hand out for you to take, helping you up on your feet and holding you by your waist. He walked you to the wall so your back was pressed against it. “Lift your leg over my shoulder, show me how flexible you really are,” he smirked. You raised your legs and put it against his shoulder with ease, your core now completely exposed and easy for him to access. He looked up and down your body before slipping inside you again, his hands keeping you steady and making sure you wouldn’t fall.

“Yes John, oh that feels so good, fuckkk.” Your moans turned John on even more, now moving faster than he did before and hitting you at an incredible angle. It didn’t take long for you to feel a knot build in your stomach.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered and moved one of your hands between your bodies for some extra stimulation. “Cum for me baby,” John said, his raspy voice and the nickname sending you straight over the edge. You loudly moaned his name while you reached your high, your juices dripping around John’s length while your nails pressed into his shoulder.

John’s groans became louder and uncontrollable, telling you he was close as well. He pulled out and you instantly dropped to you knees in front of him, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue while his hands got him off. Strings of cum landed on your tongue while John watched how you played with it in your mouth, lustful eyes staring down at you before he told you to swallow. You opened your mouth again to show him it was now empty and stood up, leaning your body against John when you realised your legs were too weak to hold you up. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your head, holding you for a minute while you both tried to catch your breath.

“This better not be a one-time thing,” you said and looked up at John. He chuckled and shook his head. “No, you’ll have me thinking of you every night from now on.” He kissed your lips one more time before helping you get dressed and reluctantly leaving you, already planning a next meeting in his head.

[mrs-ella-laufeyson]

Taking Back the Endgame

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x reader

Warnings: ANGST (one swear word), and a happy ending

Words: 2k

~Thank you to @adventurousbooknerd for requesting this! It was so much fun to write! Requests are always open!~

Request: Idk if you are taking requests but can you do a loki x reader in which the reader is still mourning loki in endgame & she time travels with tony and steve and as soon as she sees loki she decides she's bringing him back?

You’d been mourning Loki’s death for years, as if it were just yesterday that he had died at the hands of Thanos himself. As luck would have it, you were there to witness his last breath, and, in doing so, you could’ve sworn you were taking yours as well. The feeling of watching the life slip from the one person you had always loved was enough to send you over the edge. Something inside of you died that day as he took a part of you with him to the other side of the unknown.

After that, you were never the same. Steve and Natasha watched over you at the compound, noticing a significant difference in your diet. You and Loki used to snack around all the time - your favorite sweet treat being sour gummy worms. After he died you couldn’t bring yourself to eat them anymore, much less anything else. Thankfully your weight had stayed the same, surviving on mostly water just to keep what was left of you alive.

It had become a routine for you to remain in your bed clothes for days on end. What was the point? You weren’t trying to impress anyone. Your will to live had vanished, and all that was left of you was a dark, hollow, shell. Every evening was spent curled up in bed, rereading all of Loki’s favorite books, and watching all the movies the two of you had loved so much. As much as it hurt to do so, it hurt worse to consider moving on. The thought making you feel as though you were leaving his memory behind.

At night, Steve or Natasha would always come and check on you, bringing you food and demanding you eat at least a few bites before they’d leave. Sure, the company was nice, but you preferred to spend your time alone. They never understood what you saw in Loki, which is exactly why they had expected you to move on so quickly. When Steve brought you your food that night he came baring more than just a burger and some fries, but an idea that you had wanted absolutely no part of.

“Come on, Y/N, I think it’d do you some good!” Steve persuaded, trying to make it sound all butterflies and rainbows. As if that would make it any better.

“I am not going to some stupid group therapy where you all sit around in a circle and talk about your feelings.” You scoffed, throwing a temper tantrum like a two year old child.

“I’m just saying that it might help to hear what other people have gone through. You don’t have to talk, just listen,” he promised. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that you’d take a knife to the throat before you ever got emotional in front of a group of strangers. “Plus, you could use a little sunshine, you’re starting to look a little pale.” He teased, patting your leg before getting up to leave the room.

The next day you found yourself in a room full of less than ten people, all sitting hunched over in metal folding chairs. Most of them looked just as rough as you, but you knew their lives weren’t half as bad as yours. Sure their families disappeared into thin air, but they didn’t have to watch them take their last breath and know that they were gone forever. You would never be able to erase the image of Loki’s last finally moments from the darkened depths of your memory. Thanos had made sure to singe that picture into your mind for eternity. Forcing you to replay it over and over again in your head as you laid in bed alone at night. No one there to comfort you, or pull you from the horror that was the past.

It all came flooding back in an instant. The way his eyes pierced yours, looking for a way out, but knowing this truly was his end. Silently begging you to help him escape, and being forced to face the reality that was death. Watching the light fade from those beautiful emerald eyes that you had gazed into more times than you could ever know.

His voice rang through your head again, “I love you,” was the last words he had never had a chance to speak. Gulping for air, and finding nothing, he was forced to use his powers to communicate them into your mind where they had been engraved forever along with the memory of him.

This was all too much, like pouring salt into an open wound, and, without warning, you’d started to sob, feeling the way your heart ached to be with him once more. You took off out the door, and into the dimly lit hallway where you were met by Steve who had pulled you into a tight hug.

“Shh, you’re alright,” he attempted to soothe you as you continued to tremble against his body.

The mental shock of being so torn open to the past must’ve captivated you completely because when you finally opened your eyes you were lying in bed with a cool rag across your forehead. Natasha was relaxing in your lounge chair, and you were sure she’d been the source of the damp wash cloth.

Upon noticing the way your eyes began to flutter open she’d hopped up and placed herself at the end of your bed where she greeted you with a smile. “How’re you feeling?” She asked, and by the sound of her voice she was genuinely concerned.

“Like I could hibernate for the rest of the year, but that’s normal,” you assured her, sitting up as you started to feel a little better. The look in her eyes said that she wanted to talk about what had happened, but she knew bringing it up again might start another relapse.

“Steve told me to let him know when you woke up,” Natasha stated, giving you a once over to make sure you were okay to be left alone. Deeming you stable enough she got up and went to find him.

Within minutes they were both back, but there was a look on Steve’s face that said he was unsure of how he should word what he was about to say. “Y/N, something happened today after we got back,” he started, easing you into this slowly. “Scott Lanning is here again.”

Your eyes grew twice their size, and you were probably looking at him as if he were stupid. “How is that even possible?” You questioned, wondering what could’ve caused something like that to happen.

“His machine brought him back, and we’re thinking that maybe, possibly, with Tony’s help, we might be able to bend a few rules to create time travel.” He finished as if he was simply talking about something as easy as making a paper airplane, or riding a bike.

“Do you realize what you’re saying?! We could bring everyone back!” You shouted excitedly, mind immediately taking you back to Loki where you were finally given the opportunity to save him and start all over.

“Not everyone...” Steve corrected, already knowing what you were thinking. “Something like that is just too much. It could disrupt everything, Y/N. We’re simply bringing back the ones that Thanos took away.” Just like that he’d regretted that sentence by accidentally choosing the wrong words.

He had never seen your mood switch so quickly, and, if he weren’t mistaken, he’d have thought he was looking directly into the eyes of Loki himself as you glared daggers at him. “Of course,” you hissed, feeling your blood begin to boil. “Because Thanos never took anything from me.”

Steve took a slow step back, choosing his words carefully this time. “You know that’s not what I meant,” he added. “We’re not even sure if this will work, but I thought that, in the odd chance it does, maybe it would give you the opportunity to go back. To remember the good times, and see yourself the way you used to be.”

In the end, he and Nat gave you almost no choice, but to go with them, refusing to leave you in the compound alone after your little meltdown. Which eventually lead to meeting up at Tony’s cabin, and your eventual trip back to the compound once again.

After succeeding to create time travel, everyone prepared themselves for the jump. For the first time in a long time you actually felt kind of excited, but, of course, you would never admit it.

You were to be extra help to Tony and Steve, your one job to stay alert in case either of them needs your help in the off chance that something may go wrong. It only took a split second for the room to spin, and for you to find yourself following Tony as he carried you with him up to the floor where the past Avengers had assembled.

There, in the midst of them all, was Loki.

Tony’s eyes immediately shot towards your own where he noticed you staring at the God of Mischief intensely.

“Y/N, stay calm,” he reminded you, bringing your thoughts back to the task at hand. But it was too late. This was it. You’d be damned if you were to leave this timeline without him.

Without warning, you see Thor slap something over Loki’s mouth, shocking you back to reality once again. Loki’s eyes meet yours for a split second, and if you hadn’t been so close to him before you would’ve assumed he was just gazing around the room. No, he had noticed you. Tony was oblivious to the small action, continuing to concentrate on the mission while you were silently coming up with your own plan.

Thinking on your toes you’d distracted Tony with a promise to go wait downstairs for Steve, briefly explaining that it was too hard for you to be in the room with Loki after everything you had been through. Thankfully for you, Tony had bought right into it.

The guards uniform that he had provided you with left you virtually unnoticed by the Avengers as you remained hidden in the hustle and bustle. You noticed Loki glancing in your direction when he got off the elevator, seeing you come up behind him. The slightest of smirks splayed across his lips when Tony fell and the suitcase busted open, sending the tesseract soaring in his direction.

It stopped at his feet where you latched onto his arm, watching as he bent over to pick it up. The two of you disappearing in a cloud of blue smoke together. You appeared again in the last place you’d ever imagined - a hidden entrance to Asgard.

Unable to restrain yourself any longer you wrapped your arms around him, sobbing tears of joy for the first time in years. His laugh was muffled by the Asgardian device that covered his mouth, and you helped him out of his shackles.

“Lady Y/N, what in Odin’s name are you wearing?” He laughed after you’d uncovered his mouth, observing your guards uniform.

“Mind helping with that?” You giggled, wiping the tears from your eyes. In a puff of green smoke your attire had immediately changed into green Asgardian clothes that complimented Loki’s.

“Now, I do believe an explanation is in order, pet,” Loki furrowed his brow, awaiting your response. There wasn’t enough time in the world to explain everything that had happened, but you were more than willing to take every second you needed because, in the end, all that mattered was that he was back.

After everything that had happened you were able to hold him in your arms once again, and you wanted nothing more than to rest your head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat for the rest of your days. Life had given the two of you a second chance, and you knew in your heart that you would never take it for granted.