#can’t believe I’m not getting armour

[mycological-mariner]

Right. Gotta go and put armour on people and show children how to decimate a human head with a mace.

[supercutszns]

Hi!! Just had to drop in and say I LOVED your Luke fic and I can’t wait for more. I would love protective Luke with hurt/comfort, if that sounds interesting at all. Thanks for sharing your writing!!! 🌸

fighting chance; luke castellan

wc + pairing: 4.2k, luke castellan x daughter of ares! reader

synopsis: when an enemy takes advantage of your kindness during capture the flag, luke intervenes with a sword in hand.

warnings: a creepy boy👎, threats/harm to reader, she’s going through it, blood/injuries (nothing major), angry ANGRY luke, violence, lots of fluff/reassurance at the end<3

notes: thank you SO much for your kind words & your request!! hurt/comfort is my bread and butter my favourite fic genre of all time i think. & protective luke is just a bonus bc he’s already crazy so it can go as far as i want🤭 i’m not exactly sure what this turned into but if i fix it any more i'm going to go insane so hope you like it!

You’re not much of a fighter.

That alone is a normal thing to admit—plenty of people don’t like violence, the frisson of a challenge, the bruises that come with them. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Unless you’re a child of Ares.

People at camp often ridicule your gentle nature when they see you with your half-siblings. They’re all gritted teeth and sharp edges, born warriors that take up all the space they can get. You, on the other hand, are lousy with weapons and even lousier with your fists. You’re quiet, attentive. While your siblings charge into battle without second thought you stay back, flitting around to adjust armour, change out weapons, oversee the terrain. Planning isn’t Ares’ style so you’re pretty much useless but nobody wants to admit it. You’re usually mistaken as a child of Hephaestus or Athena.

Unfortunately, you are a child of Ares, through and through—just in none of the ways that matter.

There are rare times your father’s influence peeks through. Not with bursts of rage or fists flying, but with thoughts. And sometimes those thoughts turn into words. Well, not sometimes. One time. This one.

The evening before the camp’s Capture the Flag game, every cabin gathered around the bonfire past dinner. To burn offerings, to chat, or in Luke Castellan’s case, to admire.

He watches you laugh with Clarisse from a distance. The Ares cabin leader always had a certain fondness for you. When Luke first started dating you he had to ask Clarisse for her blessing beforehand just to be sure she wouldn’t kill him. He’d do it a million times over just for the moment you look back, your face warming when you catch his stare. He rolls his eyes at you to lessen his smile, but he’s not sure it works. You giggle and turn back to your friend.

He’s always loved your softness; your capacity to defend and not attack. Your body rejects any skill you could possibly develop for violence. Believe him, he’s tried to teach you sword fighting, but the last time he gave you a lesson you nearly impaled yourself thirty seconds in. He loves your wit and your tenderness, your proficiency at preventing conflict, your refusal to argue. But a selfish part of him loves the fact that he’s your protector even more.

The night wears on with the flickers of fire and friendly banter. One of the times Luke looks back at you, his brows wrinkle. There’s a guy talking to you. A group of them, actually, but there’s one clearly leading the pack. Some Aphrodite kid. Luke’s jaw twitches.

“Hey, princess,” the voice makes you pull away from your talk with Clarisse, but you’re confused. Luke is the only one that calls you that.

“Um, me?” You ask when you see the boy in front of you. He’s tall, chest puffed out. It’s not an endearing silhouette. “What’s up?”

“You wanna be on my team for Capture the Flag tomorrow?” He asks nonchalantly.

You laugh politely, “Sorry, but I don’t think we’re allied with Aphrodite tomorrow. That’s your cabin, isn’t it?” You feel bad that you can’t remember—his face is so … plain.

He chuckles back, but it’s a lot less nice. “No, doll, that’s not what I mean.” He steps a little too close, and even though you know Clarisse is behind you it feels like she’s a thousand miles away. “Well,” he drawls, a smirk drawn out, “you meet me in the forest after we start, and then we can … you know. Confer.”

“Confer?”

“Yeah. You get what I mean, pretty girl, don’t play dumb.”

A revulsion coats your gut. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me that,” you say as firmly as you can.

“What, pretty or dumb? Why not both?”

It’s demeaning, the way he says it, and it stirs a temper in your stomach you know you inherited from your father. You’re not big on confrontation. Or embarrassment. But this weirdo is talking to you out in the open and people are starting to stare. He wouldn’t dish it out if he can’t take it, right?

“I’ll pass on your offer. I have a boyfriend and I’m actually on his team tomorrow, so I’d rather confer with him, sorry.” Your hands wring together but you do your best to quell them, imagining it’s the string of Luke’s camp necklace, threaded between your fingers. You try to look for him out of the corner of your eye.

He snickers, even though it’s common knowledge you and Luke have been together for months now. “So you are dumb, huh?” He tries to smirk and you assume is supposed to be sexy, but it’s just gross. His hand tries to slide around your waist.

“Don’t touch me, please,” you hit his hand away. Your skin is crawling and the knot inside you tightens.“Just leave me alone. People are looking, you know.”

“We could go somewhere where nobody looks,” he sneers, and the grin on his face is so sleazy that you just can’t stand it anymore.

You pray to your father for strength. And to yourself for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, are you stupid or something? I told you, no.” You snap. “Maybe you’re the pretty dumb one, but for a child of Aphrodite it’s shocking how little the first one applies.”

His eyes are wide, and the posse he’d assembled behind him has attracted quite the view. You almost feel like crying, all these eyes on you, but you’re so sick of people thinking they can walk all over you just because you’re not like your siblings.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m just trying to be nice—” He grabs your wrist as you leave but you yank it hard.

“Don’t. Touch me.” People are staring at you now, but the only one you care about is Luke, who looks equally ticked and equally proud, and all you want to do is kiss him. “Hope the only time we confer tomorrow is if somebody’s sword is at your throat.”

It’s the last thing you say to him. He starts to go after you but Luke is already at your heels. “Back off, man.” You can spot how all his muscles are already rearing themselves for a fight. You wrap a hand around his wrist, and he meets your eyes. Not now.

The altercation is lost the second the two of you leave the bonfire. Nothing matters when Luke has you in his arms, kissing you outside of your cabin, telling you how damn beautiful you looked.

You’re fixing a new Ares boy’s armour when Luke finds you. “Hey, angel,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. He relishes in the way your face heats up. “You ready for battle?”

You smile, “Always.” You pat the kid on the cheek and send him on his way. He gnashes his teeth and roars, joining his siblings at the front. Luke catches the longing in your expression.

“All good?” He asks gently.

It takes you a second for your eyes to meet his. “Mmhm,” you swallow. “Just hope his armour doesn’t fall off.”

Luke sighs for a moment, then wraps his arms around you. “He’ll be fine, sweetheart. Be safe, okay? Stay close.” He kisses your temple, rubbing circles on the nape of your neck.

“Yes sir,” you reply against his chest. His insides flutter.

He pulls your face up to his and kisses you, tender and wanting. “Let’s show these hooligans who’s boss,” he quips.

“You’ll show them. I’ll hide in the woods until some idiot comes along and tries to ambush you.”

Your dulcet tone has him wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it. “You’ve always got my back,” he croons, kissing your brow.

“And you’ve always got our flag.”

You kiss him again and he lets you slip out of his arms no matter how badly he wants to keep you there forever. He watches you vanish into the trees, and his heart goes with you.

He gears up with his team and the horn sounds. Game on.

There’s yelling, sweat, adrenaline, and Luke embraces it all like a man starved. This is his chance to be ruthless, to let all his untapped rage cycle through him. This is why he’s unstoppable. This is why he’s the best.

Clarisse is unusually cooperative today, but competent as always, and whenever someone’s weapon breaks or they lose their team she just barks at them to go find you. You, the smartest person in Ares, who can mend a weapon with nothing but blades of grass and determination. Luke is pretty sure your cabin would be lost without you. He wonders if you know.

The groove of the game has fully enthralled him. He’s alert, his wrist nimble, his sword a living, breathing part of him. There’s almost nothing that can take him out of his victory path until he hears one of the younger campers tell Clarisse he can’t find you anymore.

Whatever nincompoop he’s dealing with is left groaning on the floor. “What?” He barks, hand flexing around his sword. “Where is she?”

“Probably just moved,” Clarisse grunts as she kicks back an opposing camper. “She knows where everything is. Maybe she’s—oof—safer.”

“But how am I supposed to fix my spear?” The kid frowns.

Luke runs his tongue along the roof of his mouth, dry and laden with salt. He told you to stay close. Where would you go? “I’ll find her,” he decides, already sheathing his sword to walk towards the trees.

“Luke—”

“I’ll find her!”

He barely pays attention to the calamity going on around him. With a flick of his wrist he knows he can take out any person he wants. The second he gets to the trees, where the air is cooler, it’s startling how much quieter it is. No wonder this is your preferred hiding spot.

He thanks the quiet a thousand times over because if it had been any louder he wouldn’t have heard you scream.

It’s so short it’s almost indiscernible, but he knows it’s you based on how his body movies before his brain does. It snaps something in him, the adrenaline transformed into something acerbic, determined.

“Don’t fucking scream again.” A cluster of boys are stationed around you. You’re leaning back in the dirt. You barely feel the earth sticking to your skin. Just your heart jostling madly, your fingertips shaking in the ground beside you. “Okay, I won’t, just put the sword down—”

The snarling Aphrodite boy from last night takes a swing at you, and you scramble back just enough to avoid it. “No can do, doll.” His face is twisted with rage. The lackeys he had when you told him off are there too, cornering you against a cluster of trees like you’re some caged animal. There’s a dagger clenched in one of your dirt-ridden fists but you know it won’t do you any good. You can’t fight; you don’t have it in you. But these boys do. And they’re angry.

“Tell me where the flag is,” he orders. The tip of his blade comes under your chin, fogging up with the labours of your breath, your head pressed against the trunk of a tree.

You stutter, “You’re not—You’re not supposed to threaten like this—”

“You embarrassed me in front of all those people yesterday,” he cuts you off. “Thinking you’re so fucking smart. I didn’t even say anything that big a deal but you run your mouth to the entire camp and make me look like the idiot. I thought you were nice.”

The words are laced with poison. You know from the wild look in his eyes that this isn’t about the flag at all.

Tears sting your eyes and the sword grazes your throat. Of course this is happening to you. The one time you feel your father’s rage, when you exemplify the thing you’re told to be, you are punished.

You are never going to be the right kind of daughter.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you try to say it evenly, but your breath is so ragged it’s barely audible. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all that.” You mean it, but they won’t care.

The boy’s face looks pleased at your tears. It makes you inexorably ashamed. “Some fucking Ares kid,” he snorts. “Can’t even fight, can you? Can’t even pretend to.” His sword leaves your throat and travels up to your quivering jaw. You’re wordless, white-knuckling the dagger at your side, praying that Luke is somewhere nearby.

“No wonder they stash you back here. You’re useless.” His eyes scan every part of you, and the idea of him knowing what you look like forever is so revolting it makes you want to vanish. “Too bad you’re alone, though. Nobody’s gonna know I was here because nobody’s gonna hear you.”

Your eyes get wide, and something in your mind rumbles through you like an engine. An urge buried in your blood.

Your dagger tears into his leg just as his sword dashes your arm. The pain is sharp, stinging, but the boy winces and you know you hurt him too. It gives you just enough time to roll out of the way as he lurches forward. “The fuck is wrong with you?” He swears.

Blood drips onto your shorts, splotched with tears. You know you can’t go anywhere because his friends are here and you’re almost certain you’ll be maimed, but you tried. At least you tried.

The Aphrodite boy picks his sword back up, stalks towards you, and then freezes.

Because Luke has just spotted you. And he’s spotted the boy that has you on the ground.

And he’s the best fucking swordsman Camp Half-Blood has seen in three hundred years.

“If you don’t get away from her right now I’m putting this through your skull.” He emerges from the foliage, his sword raised, sweat dripping down his face. You have never seen anyone look angrier. He has never felt angrier.

The boy blanches, and Luke sees how easily his lapdog friends shrink in his presence. Good.

“Woah, easy,” the boy holds his hands up in mock surrender and tries to flash a smile but it’s just fucking pathetic. His arms are shaking and his throat bobs about a million times. “We’re just playing the game.”

“Like hell you are,” Luke spits. “You gang up on my girlfriend and you expect me to believe this is fair play? Want me to tie you all together and push one of you off a cliff to keep the spirit going?”

“Didn’t know she was yours,” the boy tries to shrug but again, it’s a miserable attempt that only makes Luke feel stronger.

“Not that it matters but yes, you do,” Luke chuckles thickly. “I beat your ass in sword training last week. You know exactly who I am. And I’m sure you know who you are, so it’s obvious you’re playing out of your league here.”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you still cowering, blood dribbling down your arm. He wants to tear the world apart. “Apologize and maybe I don’t send you to the infirmary.”

“We just want the flag, man,” the boy swallows.

“And I want your head on a stick. Want to see who gets what first?”

It’s too provocative an insult for a moron like this to ignore, so soon Luke has the pleasure of disarming five bitter boys that have clearly never been good at a single thing in their life. He tears through them like sheets of paper, knocking them to the dirt, ripping their clothes. He thinks of you, just you, your honest heart and patient hands, and it’s enough to fuel him for a millennia.

The last boy, the leader, is at Luke’s mercy, and he has none to give. The flat of Luke’s blade is pressed horizontally against the boy’s neck, an angering similarity to the position he had you in earlier. “If you ever do this again, I’m going to kill you.”

“You’re—fucking—crazy—” The boy wheezes, the length of the blade squeezing his throat against a tree trunk. “I’ll—I‘ll tell Chiron.”

Luke has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep him from doing something he regrets. “Oh yeah? You want me to tell Chiron how you harassed and terrorised a girl in the middle of the forest all in the name of play? Want me to tell him what you said to her last night at the campfire? Because I’m sure it won’t take much for him to get rid of your ugly face as it is, and I’m a camp counsellor.”

He knows it’s not the most morally correct use of his title. He knows he might be stepping over the line. But he also knows you’re always being ignored or trampled over and he’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t give a damn. He’s tired of people trying to force you into something you’re not. Of you crying in his bed at night because they’re trying to drag a violence out of you that isn’t there. Always in the name of fucking play.

Luke takes the sword off the boy’s neck and shoves him backwards. His calf is bleeding, not a deep wound, but a wound nonetheless, and Luke is full of pride when he realizes you did that. The boy’s bad leg makes him wobble and fall at the force of the push. Luke enjoys watching the scramble. “I—I was just trying to be nice, it’s not my fault she took it the wrong way!” The boy flails his hands in the air, rising to his feet again, and Luke shoves him down twice as hard. A piece of his shirt tears off in Luke’s hand.

“You’ve gotta stop talking or I really am going to kill you,” he seethes. “Don’t touch her ever again. Go.”

Luke is sure he looks homicidal right now because the guy finally tumbles his way down the hill. His body fades into the distance, swallowed up by shrubbery and sweat.

The second he’s gone Luke tosses his sword and armour and gets back to you. “Shit,” he mutters, kneeling down. You’re still shaking, your head in your arms, and all his hatred morphs into a love so desperate it terrifies him. “Angel, come here. Let me see.” He lifts your face with his hands and scans you rapidly. “Did he hurt you anywhere else? Anywhere?”

“Just my arm,” you whimper. “My arm.”

He knows it’s not the cut that’s hurting you; it’s long, but thin, and it’s not bleeding too thickly. He takes the cloth from the Aphrodite boy’s shirt and wraps it around your arm, knotting it at the end. “All right, that should be better.”

You look at him with watery eyes, and he knows all you need is for him to hold you. He folds you in his arms and leans against a stump. You can’t get close to him fast enough. The tip of your nose buries itself in his neck and he feels the dampness of your cheeks on his skin. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re safe,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’m so sorry.”

Guilt swaths over him for a brief moment; he wonders if he shouldn’t have done all that, if he should’ve been more sensible. Then your lips form a ‘thank you’ against his skin and all is forgotten.

You feel so small. The shock is still running its course, so all you can do is cry it out. Your hands still shake when you thread your fingers through Luke’s necklace to steady them. He soothes you the best he can, running his hand along your spine, all the sharpness of his voice softened just for you. “You’re all right, angel. I’m not going anywhere.”

You stay like that for a while. The sounds of the forest return to you; leaves in the wind, birds chirping, Luke’s breath tickling your hair. You crane your head up to nuzzle your nose against the faint stubble of his jaw. “My hero,” you murmur, and feel his skin shift as he smiles.

“Couldn’t have done it without you. Saw the cut you gave him on his leg.” He kisses your temple. “I hope it gets infected.”

You giggle weakly no matter how you try smothering it in his chest. “Gods, you’re awful.”

“He deserves it! I probably should have killed him!”

“You came pretty close, didn’t you?” You mumble. Luke’s expression is wary, but you smile to yourself and it dispels everything. “I was hoping you’d come.”

“Good. Serves them right, messing with you like that. Fucking idiots.” He kisses your face again for good measure, “You sure they didn’t get you anywhere else, princess?”

You nod but you know you look wounded. You nudge into the crook of Luke’s neck again. “They … you know, it’s just … the usual stuff.” Every word weighs a pound as it comes out. Your heart feels sore.

Luke tenses again instantly. “What usual stuff?”

“Um, just—” The shame gets caught in your throat. “They all think I’m useless, Luke. Why can’t I do this right?”

You start to cry again, but he just holds you closer. Sometimes it surprises you how much patience he has. He prides himself as the harsher one between the two of you, but you don’t know who he’s fooling with the way he always knows how to comfort people.

“I don’t know what to do,” you continue, blinking back tears, “I’m not—I’m just not good at this, I don’t know why I’m in Ares, I don’t know why I can’t … be that. Why is he my father? I’m no good at being angry. I want to be angry.”

Luke’s quiet for a moment. Nothing changes except his hand rubbing circles on the nape of your neck again. Then he sighs deeply and says, “You don’t owe your father a damn thing. You don’t owe anyone anything.” He’s resolute, firm, a sharp contrast to his gentle kiss on your hairline. “You’re the smartest, most generous person I know. You need those people in battle. You’ll lose if you don’t.”

The warmth of his skin prompts you to look up at him. He looks different so often, the way he can shift between so tough and so gentle. Sometimes, like now, he’s caught in the middle, the remains of a furious sweat hardening his face, but his eyes are nothing but tender. You think it’s how you like him best.

“Besides, we’re not our parents, right? Who cares about Ares anyway?” Luke shrugs.

“Luke! Don’t say that!” your tears turn into a giggle. “The Gods might punish you!”

“I’ll handle it. There’s enough fight in me for the both of us.”

“Okay, tough guy,” you mutter with a weak smile.

You’re still sniffling. He runs his thumbs across your cheeks, and his gaze softens. “You’re an Ares kid because you are a fighter, angel. You just fight a hell of a lot smarter than the rest of us. Best one I know. Well, other than me.”

It makes you smile. “So second-best?”

“Tied for first.”

He kisses you with that stupid roguish smile. It’s salty with tears and sweat, but it mends your heart anyway. There is nowhere in the world you’d feel safer.

“I love you,” he says against your cheek. “Be as sweet as you want. If anyone has anything to say about it I’ll mess ‘em up good.” Your face warms as his voice drops to your ear, “And I know you’re an Ares kid because you’ll encourage it every time. You might not have a violent bone in your body, but you sure don’t have a problem with me using mine.”

“Diplomatically, Luke. Diplomatically.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you want.”

You can’t help but kiss him again. You’re not entirely sure why he loves you so much, why you love him so much, but you never feel quite as secure as when you’re with him.

Cheers boom from the other side of camp. Luke’s head perks up like a dog, and you turn back to search for spots of red or blue. “Did we win?” You ask, craning your head to get a better view.

“Don’t care,” Luke says.

You look back at him. His anxious face says it all. “Yes, you do.”

“Okay yes, I do, and I need to see if those douches found our flag so I can choke them out with it.”

You laugh, standing so Luke can jog off to see the state of your team. But before he goes, he picks you up and smothers you in kisses, holding you like you’re his prize.

You are not a fighter, but your boyfriend sure is. And you’re perfectly okay with that.

[theonottsbxtch]

HONEST | LN4

an: this is dedicated to the anon who noticed my bio and saw i loved honest by the nbhd, it inspired me to write something based off of it <3

wc: 3.5k

summary: lando and his girlfriend keep going back to each other despite her numerous attempts to get him to open up, what happens when she finally has enough.

The night was alive with the hum of possibility, the city draped in neon light and the buzz of distant traffic. She sat cross-legged on the floor of her cramped university apartment, a half-finished canvas propped up against the wall, colors bleeding together in a way that made her frown. Her fingers were smudged with paint, her hair twisted into a loose knot that threatened to unravel with every frustrated exhale.

Her phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a notification: “Lando Norris finishes P2 at Hungary Grand Prix.”

She hesitated before swiping it away. The world might have celebrated second place, but she knew him better. For Lando, second was nothing more than a public failure.

The knock at her door came minutes later, sharp and deliberate, like him. She didn’t need to check who it was.

When she opened it, there he stood, still in the McLaren jacket with the logo stitched across his chest. His dark hair clung to his forehead, and his jaw was set in that stubborn line she knew too well. He smelled like engine oil and exhaustion, and she couldn’t decide if the ache in her chest was for him or the weight he always carried.

“You’re here,” she said, the words soft, more observation than greeting.

“I needed to see you.” His voice was low, barely audible over the sound of her radiator ticking in the background.

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating? Champagne showers and all that?” she asked, stepping aside to let him in.

“I didn’t win.”

She closed the door behind him, watching as he moved to her window, his silhouette framed by the city lights outside. He didn’t sit, didn’t even take off his jacket. He just stood there, the tension radiating from him like heat from a burning track.

“You came in second,” she said carefully, crossing her arms as she leaned against the door. “That’s not nothing.”

“It’s not first,” he snapped, his voice sharper than he meant. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I just—”

“You don’t have to explain,” she interrupted, her tone softer now. She was getting used to this.

But he shook his head, turning to face her. “I do. You don’t get it. The team made me and I know I shouldn’t have kicked up a fuss but I’ve been working my ass off. Oscar doesn’t deserve this bullshit but I’m so close—”

“Lando,” she said, cutting him off again. “You’ve done this before. You’ll do it again. But it’s never about the race, is it?”

He stared at her, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to find the words.

“It’s not enough,” he finally said. “No matter what I do, I’m never enough.”

Her throat tightened at the familiar refrain. She’d heard it before—in the way he avoided eye contact when he talked about his expectations, in the way he deflected her compliments like they were a nuisance. She stepped closer, her arms unfolding as she reached for his hand.

“It’s enough for me,” she said softly.

For a moment, she thought he might pull away, but he didn’t. His hand was cold, trembling slightly against hers. He looked at her like he wanted to believe her, like he wanted her words to be true.

“You don’t get it,” he said again, quieter this time. “I don’t know how to be okay with less. I don’t know how to stop chasing.”

“Then stop chasing,” she said, her voice firm. “Just… stay. For once, just stay.”

He closed his eyes, the weight of the words hanging between them. When he opened them again, she saw the cracks in his armour, the vulnerability he fought so hard to hide.

“I don’t know if I can,” he admitted.

The words stung, but she didn’t let go of his hand. “Then figure it out. I can’t do it for you, Lando. I can’t keep filling in the spaces you leave blank.”

The silence stretched, heavy and uncertain, until he finally nodded, a small, reluctant gesture.

She didn’t know if it meant he would stay, or if it was just another moment in the long cycle of him crashing into her life and pulling away again. But for now, it was enough.

“Come on,” she said, leading him to the couch. “Sit down. I’ll make tea.”

And as she moved to the kitchen, he sank into the cushions, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. He watched her from across the room, and for the first time that night, he allowed himself to breathe.

The tea kettle whistled, a sharp note cutting through the quiet tension. She poured the hot water into two mismatched mugs, her movements slow, deliberate. Every sound—the clink of the spoon, the soft rush of liquid—felt amplified in the silence that stretched between them.

Lando sat hunched forward on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together. His head was bowed like he was waiting for something to break, or maybe trying to hold it all together.

When she placed a mug in front of him, he looked up, offering her the smallest nod of thanks. She sat beside him, tucking her legs beneath her. The couch was old, the cushions sagging, forcing them closer than either might have chosen in that moment.

“I used to think art was about perfection,” she said, staring into her tea. Her voice was calm, but there was an edge of vulnerability, like she wasn’t sure where the words would take her.

He turned his head toward her, waiting.

“When I started studying, I wanted to control every detail, every brushstroke,” she continued. “I thought if I just worked hard enough, it would all come together the way I imagined. But no matter how much I tried, it always felt… wrong. Like something was missing.”

He didn’t reply, but his gaze stayed on her, heavy with unspoken questions.

“I realised it wasn’t about getting it perfect. It was about letting the imperfections in, letting the chaos fill the spaces. That’s what makes it real. That’s what makes it art.”

Lando exhaled, a slow, almost shaky breath. “You think I should just let chaos into my life?”

“I think it’s already there,” she said gently. “You’re just pretending it isn’t.”

He laughed, a short, bitter sound. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not. But what you’re doing isn’t easy either, is it? Beating yourself up every time you don’t hit perfection? Trying to control everything, even things you can’t?”

Lando stared into his tea, the steam curling upward like a ghost of his thoughts. “When you’re on the track,” he began, his voice low, “everything depends on precision. One mistake, one miscalculation, and it’s over. You don’t just lose the race—you crash. You burn.”

She didn’t interrupt, letting him work through the words that seemed to take more effort than any lap he’d ever driven.

“That’s what my life is. Corners and braking zones and split-second decisions. If I let chaos in…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“You’re not on the track right now,” she said softly.

His head turned sharply toward her, his expression unreadable.

“I know you don’t think you can stop,” she continued, her eyes meeting his. “But you’re not just a driver, Lando. You’re a person. And people aren’t built to live like that all the time.”

He looked at her for a long moment, the walls in his eyes flickering, wavering. Then he leaned back against the couch, his shoulders slumping as if he’d finally allowed himself to feel the weight of it all.

“You make it sound like I have a choice,” he murmured.

“You do,” she said. “But you have to be brave enough to take it.”

He huffed out a humorless laugh. “Bravery. That’s funny, coming from you.”

Her brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re the one who made us go on break last time,” he said, the words sharper than he intended. “You couldn’t stick around when things got hard.”

She flinched, the accusation landing like a slap. But she didn’t look away. “I didn’t leave because it was hard. I left because you wouldn’t let me in. You let me see pieces of you, but never the whole thing. And I can’t keep guessing at who you are.”

The air between them felt thick, charged with everything they’d never said.

“I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly.

She reached for his hand, her fingers brushing his knuckles. “Then try. That’s all I’ve ever asked.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, his hand turned, his fingers intertwining with hers.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, so quietly she almost didn’t hear it.

Her lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile. “You never lost me, Lando. But I can’t be the one holding us together anymore.”

He nodded, a tiny, almost imperceptible motion. It wasn’t a promise, not yet. But it was something.

The next race that went to shit for him was Baku.

The door to her London apartment creaked open, and Lando stepped inside, his bag slung over one shoulder. His face was a map of exhaustion—dark circles under his eyes, his jawline shadowed with stubble. The scent of jet fuel and rubber seemed to cling to him, a remnant of the race he’d just returned from.

She was sitting at her desk, the glow of her laptop illuminating her face as she worked on an assignment. The sound of the door closing made her glance over her shoulder. Her expression softened for a moment, then grew guarded, like she was bracing for impact.

“You’re back,” she said, her voice neutral.

“I’m back,” he echoed. He dropped his bag in the corner and rubbed a hand over his face, his fingers lingering at his temples. “How’s your week been?”

“Fine,” she said, turning back to her screen. “Yours?”

He let out a dry laugh as he collapsed onto the couch. “Do you want the press-conference version or the real one?”

She swiveled her chair to face him fully, her arms crossed. “The real one, obviously.”

He hesitated, his mouth opening and closing as if the words were caught in his throat. Finally, he shrugged. “It was fine. Finished P4. Made a stupid mistake in qualifying, couldn’t recover. Typical.”

She frowned, her eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s it?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

She stood, crossing the room to sit on the armchair across from him. “I don’t know, Lando. Maybe something real? Maybe talk to me like I’m more than just an audience for your race recap?”

He looked at her, startled by the sharpness in her tone. “I am talking to you.”

“No, you’re not,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “You’re telling me what you think I want to hear. You’ve been doing that since the moment we got back together.”

He sat up straighter, his brows furrowing. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair?” she repeated, incredulous. “Lando, we’ve been stuck in the same pattern for months. You come back, you barely say anything real, and then you leave again. We took a break because you said you’d try, and nothing has changed.”

“That’s not true,” he argued, his voice rising defensively.

“Then tell me what’s true,” she countered. “Tell me what’s actually going on in your head, because I don’t know anymore.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

“See?” she said, throwing her hands up. “This is what I mean. I’m sitting here, begging you to let me in, and you’re just… shutting down. Again.”

“It’s not that simple,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

“Yes, it is,” she said, her frustration boiling over. “It’s as simple as you deciding whether or not you actually want me in your life. Because I can’t keep sacrificing myself for you if you’re not willing to meet me halfway.”

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, daring him to respond. But he didn’t. He just stared at the floor, his hands clasped tightly together.

Her voice softened, trembling slightly. “We need to break up. For real this time.”

His head snapped up, panic flashing across his face. “No. Please, don’t do this. I can do better, I promise. Just—”

“No,” she interrupted, shaking her head. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them away. “I’ve heard that before. I can’t keep waiting for you to figure this out while I’m breaking myself apart trying to hold us together.”

“Please,” he said again, his voice desperate.

But then something shifted. His shoulders sagged, the fight leaving him all at once. He let out a long, shaky breath and finally met her eyes.

“Okay,” he said, the word soft but resolute.

She froze, her heart skipping a beat. She had expected resistance, pleading, anger—but not this.

“Okay?” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “You’re right. I don’t know how to give you what you need. And I don’t think I ever will.”

Her chest tightened, the weight of his words cutting deeper than any argument ever could.

“I’m sorry,” he added, standing and grabbing his bag. He hesitated at the door, his hand on the knob. “I hope… I hope you find someone who can.”

And just like that, he was gone.

She sat there for a long time, staring at the closed door, the echo of his and her words ringing in her ears. She had gotten what she’d asked for, but it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like the quiet hollow left after something breaks.

The weeks after he walked out passed in a blur of quiet moments and restless nights. Her apartment felt bigger, somehow emptier, though his presence had always been fleeting. At first, she moved through the days mechanically: attending lectures, working on assignments, and scrolling mindlessly through her phone when she couldn’t concentrate.

That was how she saw the first video.

It popped up on her social media feed one evening—a clip of Lando during a post-race interview. He stood with the same calm precision he always carried, his dark eyes serious as he talked about tire degradation and strategy.

But she noticed the way his jaw tightened when the reporter mentioned the championship battle. The way he rubbed the back of his neck when he thought no one was watching. The things only she would have picked up on.

She swiped away from the video quickly, her heart hammering in her chest.

For days after, more videos surfaced. Clips of him on the podium, the national anthem playing in the background. Snippets of races where he pushed through the pack with surgical precision. Even candid moments, fans catching him as he signed autographs with a tight, practiced smile.

She didn’t go looking for them, but they seemed to find her anyway.

Part of her wanted to stop watching. Every video felt like a small knife twisting in her chest. But another part of her—the part that still woke up some mornings thinking about the weight of his hand in hers—couldn’t look away.

And then there was the guilt. The nagging voice in her head that whispered she could have done more, been more, stayed longer. That maybe if she’d held on just a little tighter, he wouldn’t have slipped away.

But the rational part of her knew better. She couldn’t keep sacrificing herself for someone who wouldn’t let her in. She couldn’t keep living in the spaces he refused to fill.

Throwing herself into her work became her salvation. She spent hours in her studio, her fingers smudged with paint and charcoal, her mind racing with ideas.

Her project started as a simple concept: inner thoughts, the things we hide from the world. But the more she worked, the more it grew, expanding into something bigger than anything she’d ever created.

The centerpiece was a massive installation—an abstract figure built from fragmented mirrors, wires, and twisted metal. Each shard reflected something different: colors that didn’t match, faces distorted in impossible ways. Surrounding the figure were interactive panels where viewers could write their own hidden thoughts, projected onto the walls in real-time.

It wasn’t just art; it was a conversation. A reflection of the unspoken truths that lived in everyone.

Her professor was floored when she presented it during a critique. “This is… remarkable,” he said, circling the model she’d built as he spoke. “It’s raw, vulnerable. It demands engagement.”

She flushed under the praise but nodded, unsure what to say.

“You need to exhibit this,” the professor continued. “There’s an upcoming gallery in Monte Carlo—prestigious, international attendance. I’ll submit your work.”

Monte Carlo.

Her stomach tightened at the name. She thought of glitzy hotels, sharp corners, and the sound of engines echoing through narrow streets. Of Lando, and the apartment she’d only been to a few times.

But she nodded again. “Okay,” she said.

And that was how she found herself in Monaco.

The gallery hummed with conversation, the din blending with the soft background music that played over hidden speakers. She was standing near the wine table, engaged in a lively discussion with an older couple who were gushing about her work.

“It’s so… visceral,” the woman said, gesturing animatedly with her glass of champagne. “It feels like you’ve captured something universal but deeply personal at the same time. Like it’s speaking directly to me.”

Her lips curved into a polite smile. “That’s exactly what I hoped for,” she said.

As she explained the inspiration behind the installation, the doors to the gallery opened again, and Lando walked in.

He wore a crisp suit, his usual casual edge replaced by something sharper, more formal. The team required his attendance. His hair was nicely curled, and his presence was magnetic, commanding subtle glances from attendees who didn’t recognise him but knew he must be someone important.

Lando’s gaze swept the room, searching, but her back was to him. She was too engrossed in her conversation to notice the way his shoulders stiffened when he saw the installation—or the way his expression softened when he realised it was hers.

He approached the centerpiece quietly, his hands in his pockets as he took it all in. The mirrored figure seemed to hold his gaze, fragments of his reflection staring back at him. His attention moved to the interactive panels, where dozens of anonymous confessions lit up the walls.

“I’m afraid of being alone forever.”“I miss the person I was before them.”“I don’t know how to move on.”

Lando stood there for a long moment, his chest tightening as he read the words. Finally, he stepped closer to one of the blank panels and picked up the stylus.

He hesitated, the pen hovering just above the screen, before he began to write:

"I wish I could have been honest.”

He paused, then added something small, something only she would understand:

4♡

It was the way he’d signed every note he’d left for her. Scrawled on Post-its stuck to the bathroom mirror. On napkins tucked into her lunch bag. On the inside cover of a sketchbook he’d bought her. It had always been their little secret, a shorthand for everything he couldn’t say out loud.

Lando stepped back, his throat tight. He cast one last glance around the room, his eyes lingering on her as she laughed softly at something the older man said. Then he turned and walked out, unnoticed.

The crowd thinned as the night wore on, and the gallery grew quieter. She stood alone now, gazing at her installation with a mixture of pride and exhaustion. The panels were almost completely filled with confessions, their glowing words painting the walls in a kaleidoscope of emotion.

She walked up to the nearest panel, scrolling through the entries. Some were poignant, others painfully raw. But one stopped her in her tracks.

"I wish I could have been honest.”

Her breath hitched as her eyes darted to the small signature below it.

4♡

Her hand flew to her mouth, a tremor running through her as she stared at the words. For a moment, she thought she might have imagined it. But no—there it was, unmistakable.

A wave of emotions crashed over her: shock, sadness, and a deep, aching tenderness that she had tried so hard to bury.

She sank onto a nearby bench, tears slipping down her cheeks.

She thought of him standing here, reading her work, writing those words. The quiet acknowledgment of everything left unsaid between them. And the small, stubborn piece of him that still lingered in her world, no matter how far apart they were.

She wiped her tears, but they kept coming, her chest heaving as the weight of it all settled over her.

For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to feel the full depth of her loss. But alongside the grief was something else—a fragile, flickering sense of closure.

He had been here. He had seen her, her work, her heart laid bare. And he had left her a piece of himself, as he always had.

It wasn’t enough to fix what had broken. But maybe, just maybe, it was enough to let her begin to heal.

the end.

[7s3ven]

NOBODY’S SON, NOBODY’S DAUGHTER. luke (pjo) pt. 2

PART 1 > PART 2 > PART 3 > PART 4 (last pt)

( masterlist )

IN WHICH… Y/N is finally claimed by her father, who turns out to be Zeus. Now, she’s stuck in an empty cabin as the only forbidden child of Zeus. Luke, on the other hand, is thrilled to be playing her knight in shining armour and getting her through each lonely day.

“I’m in the wind, you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.”

( follows the show - kind of just a oneshot bc i’m bored )

Warnings : a little bit of jealousy, arguing, Y/N being indecisive and confused (real), not proof-read

—

TAG LIST : @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @csifandom @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @jennapancake @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbaby @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @kkrenae

I really hope this part is good enough 🙏

—

Being claimed was perhaps worse than staying in the Hermes cabin. The Zeus cabin was completely empty, much to Y/N’s dismay. Percy was unlucky enough to be a forbidden child too. Looks like neither of them would be having any half-siblings.

“I always knew she was destined for greatness.” Clarisse would say as if the life of a forbidden child wasn’t lonely and utterly isolated.

“Knock, knock.”

But there was one person who could light up the dim Zeus cabin.

“Hope you don’t mind that I brought strawberries. I picked ‘em myself. It was not easy work, let me tell you.” Luke chuckled as he walked in, shutting the door behind him. “Nice place.” He sarcastically said, staring at the cobwebs that littered the walls.

Y/N stared at him, unimpressed and unamused. “Being claimed was supposed to feel great. But I’m just back at square one again.” She huffed and took a strawberry Luke offered her. He sat beside Y/N, gesturing her to continue.

“You know, at least the Hermes cabin had another people. I’m stuck in this deserted cabin because my father finally decided that he wanted to see me! All I’m wondering is why it took so long. Why bother claiming me now?! Percy got claimed in under five days. I know people who have been claimed in one. Why did it take me ten years?! At least I know why I always attract trouble now. It’s because Zeus, that utter man whore, is my dad!”

Luke’s eyebrows silently raised at her words. “You’re welcome in the Hermes cabin any time, Y/N. Don’t forget that. I don’t think your dad was ignoring you… he was probably just waiting.”

“Yeah. Waiting until I finally proved myself to him. Because a child of Zeus should be a prodigy. No normal feat is allowed. It has to be impressive to gain his attention. How dumb.” Y/N scoffed.

“I was fine without him. I’ve gone my entire life never hearing from him and after ten years of being at camp, suddenly he wants to play daddy? He should’ve left me alone. But hey, at least you guys have more room in the Hermes cabin. I heard Chiron was going to move me.”

“What? But you’re practically part of the family. I mean, not exactly. It’d be weird if we were related because… you know… we’re friends and being such good friends with siblings seems weird.” Luke spoke so fast that Y/N couldn’t understand him.

She silently stared at him. “… You’re weird. Chiron just wanted to make more room for the newcomers. And, you know, I had been there for so long that I wasn’t considered new.”

“You okay, though? Your cuts aren’t still hurting? You don’t feel sick, right?” Luke carefully inspected her face and bruised arms, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“Luke, I’m fine.” She reassured him, laughing. “Nothing hurts anymore.”

“Guess I’ve got to let you win the next game now.” He sighed. “I can’t believe you guessed Poseidon and got it right.”

“I took a wild guess. I wasn’t expecting it to be correct.”

Luke shrugged and stood up. “I need to go check up on some kids. A new group just arrived. Will you be alright by yourself? I can always go get Clarisse.”

Y/N stared up at him and a part of Luke wished she would ask him to stay. To stay in the stuffy cabin and just… talk.

“I think I need some alone time right now.” She softly smiled, resisting the urge to ask him not to walk out, to keep her company. “I just need to process all the shit that went down.”

Luke chuckled, ruffling her hair. “That’s my girl.” He began to walk away before he turned around last minute. “Hey, Y/N… thanks for staying by my side.”

“No problem. Thanks for being my friend, Luke.”

With a wounded heart and the embarrassment of being friend-zoned hanging high over his head, Luke walked out of the Zeus cabin.

Y/N didn’t see Luke again until a few days later. He was always so busy with the new kids but he still had time to leave a small box of strawberries on her porch.

It was dinner when Y/N could finally speak to Luke. She smiled at him and subtly waved and he grinned back. He had been talking with Chris about a boring topic but his eyes lit up when he saw Y/N. Luke stood up to sit with her before he was quickly intercepted.

“Luke.” One of the new girls said, staring up at him with her big doe eyes. She was claimed the moment she stepped into camp by Aphrodite. She seemed to already be her mother’s favourite. “Are you free to sit with me and my friends? We want to ask you a few questions.”

Luke was pulled away by the girl, leaving Y/N to watch him sheepishly grin. Y/N’s smile faltered. “I think he’s avoiding me.” She muttered to Percy, resting her cheek on the palm of her hand. She felt a twisted knot of jealousy well up as a girl giggled and grabbed Luke’s arm. And he let her.

The younger boy looked up in confusion. “Who? Luke? I don’t think so. Girls just seem to really like him.”

Y/N frowned but didn’t say anything else. She could only stare again as the girls around Luke laughed as he uttered something with a bashful smile.

“I’m turning in early.” Y/N said, standing up. She pushed her plate of dessert towards Percy, who slowly took it.

“You good?” He asked.

“Yeah. I’m not feeling well so I think I’m going to sleep early. Good night, Percy.” She deeply inhaled as she walked away, catching Luke’s attention.

“Excuse me, ladies. I’ll be back. I need to talk to someone.” He hurriedly got up, racing after Y/N. Percy, who was eating his second serving of cake, muffled a laugh. Luke was so whipped.

“Y/N.” The brunette boy finally caught up to her. He grabbed her arm, spinning her around. “Why are you leaving early? We haven’t talked for weeks so I thought we could use today to catch up.”

Y/N stared at him in confusion before she turned her head and quietly laughed. She covered her mouth to conceal the noise. “Luke… it’s only been three days.”

His face dropped and he cleared his throat. “I know… I was testing you. That’s all.” Yet his eyes looked at everything but Y/N. “So, how has your cabin been?”

“Lonely. It doesn’t feel the same without Chris ranting about Clarisse.” Y/N sighed, lightly biting the inside of her cheek.

“I’m not sure if I can rant about Clarisse like Chris but I could try keeping you company.” Luke offered, gazing at Y/N with eyes that begged her to agree.

She merely shrugged, not stopping Luke from strutting into her cabin and lying down on her bed. He outstretched his arms, confusing Y/N. “Hug.” Was all he said.

Y/N was never much of an affectionate person but Luke certainly was. His gestures ranged from secretly fiddling with her fingers to picking her up and swinging her around in the middle of the battle arena.

Begrudgingly, Y/N closed the distance between them. Luke grinned, pulling her closer. A few moments later, Y/N attempted to pull away. Luke prevented her from doing so. “Five more minutes.” He whispered in her ear.

But those promised five minutes turned into an hour.

And a peaceful hour turned into all night.

And all night turned into the sun rising and Clarisse waking the pair up.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, Luke.” The Ares girl snickered, folding her arms over her chest. “Your siblings are wondering where you went. I assume by the lack of clothes on the floor that you two did nothing. How surprising for you, Luke.”

“Clarisse.” Y/N warned, sitting up.

“Okay, okay. I’m going. See you at breakfast, Y/N.” Clarisse sent her friend a teasing wink before she slithered off, laughing to herself.

“Sorry. I fell asleep.” Luke muttered, stretching. He not-so-subtly placed an arm around Y/N and when she didn’t shove him away, he smiled.

“It’s fine. I’ve already prepared myself for whatever gossip is about to spread around camp.” Y/N leaned back, shaking her head, while Luke chuckled.

“Nothing we haven’t dealt with before.” Luke retorted.

Camp Half-Blood seemed obsessed with the little thing going on between Y/N and Luke. Friendship, romance, confusing situationship. The campers called it many things.

“I’m so tired.” Y/N muttered, rubbing her tired eyes. Luke took that as his chance to gaze at her. His eyes traced over the bridge of her nose and the curve of her Cupid’s bow.

He smiled to himself, pressing his face deeper into the crook of Y/N’s neck.

“Luke. We need to get up.” As if suddenly uncomfortable with his close proximity, Y/N stood up.

“Oh. Yeah. I know how you can’t miss breakfast because you get cranky without it.” Luke chuckled while Y/N shoved him.

“Get out, Luke!” Y/N exclaimed, throwing a pillow at him. He bellowed out a laugh as he ran towards the exit.

“See you at breakfast, sweetheart!”

Y/N, with flushed cheeks and a racing mind, barged into the Ares cabin. “Clarisse.” She said, holding onto the doorframe for support. “I need your help.”

“What do you need?” Clarisse questioned as they walked side by side. Y/N sighed.

“Well, for starters, Luke is acting weird. I mean, he was always kind of weird but it’s gotten… more extreme. He’s getting so close and… calling me these pet names. What am I supposed to do? And why does it make me feel shy? Clarisse, help me!”

Y/N gripped her friend’s shoulders tightly. Clarisse lightly snorted. “Y/N, he’s just in love. Let the boy be.”

“In… love? W-With… me? In love with me?!” Y/N’s mind was spinning by now and it looked like this was her mid-life crisis. “He’s not… he can’t be… no… no… No! I have to go, Clarisse!”

Clarisse watched as Y/N sprinted off with the speed of a lightning bolt. “Haha. It’s so fun messing with them.”

“Hey, Clarisse. What’d you say to Y/N?” Luke immediately filled in Y/N’s spot. He furrowed his eyebrows, glancing at Y/N.

“I just told her how in love you are with her.” Clarisse winked and laughed at Luke’s appalled face.

“You… did what?” He questioned, panicking. “Why… why would you do that?! Clarisse! Shit!”

Luke, just like Y/N, rushed off. Clarisse smiled again. “So fun.”

Y/N hid within the comforts of her own cabin. She was supposed to teach some of the newbies archery but she was sure Clarisse could fill in for her.

“Luke… in love with me… no way.” She shook her head and deeply sighed, clutching onto her blanket. “He likes that Aphrodite girl.”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Speak of the devil. Luke opened the door, grinning at her. “Sorry I’m late. I tried meditating but I ended up falling asleep.” Classic him. “I brought you some food. I gotta teach some kids sword-fighting soon but I thought I’d just leave this here.”

Luke had one leg out of the door before Y/N stopped him. “Luke, can you maybe, I don’t know… stay over tonight? Again? It feels less lonely with you.” Y/N spoke slowly, as if testing the waters.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. Sure. I’d be happy to keep you company. You can count on me, Sparky.”

Y/N scoffed, staring at Luke with her lips parted. “Sparky? No way are you calling me that.”

“Too bad. See ya, Sparky!” Luke managed to close the door before the pillow Y/N tossed his way hit him. She scoffed, looking around yet no words came out of her mouth.

“Sparky… Sparky?!” Y/N exclaimed in disbelief. “What sort of nickname is that?!”

Luke, who stood outside the door and heard Y/N, chuckled. He ran his tongue over his teeth, “Cute.”

A quiet knock on the door interrupted Y/N’s half-conscious nap. She stumbled to the entrance, slowly twisting the knob. “Hey.” She mumbled to Luke, who was holding an armful of snacks.

“Hey, Sparky.” He greeted her with his usual boyish smile. “Did I wake you?”

“I was just taking a small nap. You can always let yourself in, by the way.” Y/N muttered, yawning.

“I didn’t wanna be rude.” Luke replied as he stepped inside, brushing past Y/N. “Hey. I have an idea.” He suddenly said, spinning around. Y/N raised her eyebrows, gesturing him to continue. “I know you don’t like hanging out in this cabin so what do you say we check out the lake?”

“That’s breaking the rules.” Y/N said, shaking her head.

“Come on, I wanna go on a walk. And I’m already breaking rules being here. A few more can’t hurt.”

Y/N wanted to say no but how could she when Luke was looking at her like that?

“Fine.” She softly agreed. Luke dropped the snacks onto Y/N’s bed before dragging her out of her cabin. She didn’t even have time to grab a jacket.

Luke placed a finger over his lips, telling Y/N to be quiet. The two carefully creeped through the words, quietly giggling as they shoved each other.

“It’s prettier at night.” Y/N whispered, staring at the lake that sparkled in the moonlight. Luke smiled, nodding his head.

“Yeah.” He replied, but he wasn’t looking at the glittering water. He was looking at Y/N. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”

Y/N turned her head, faltering when she saw that Luke was already gazing at her. His lips curved into a bright smile.

“So, so… beautiful.” He repeated, staring into her eyes.

“Luke.” She muttered, thickly gulping. Butterflies swirled around in her stomach. After years of pushing down her growing feelings for Luke, they were coming back.

“Y/N.” He chuckled, adjusting his stance. But he slipped and fell into the lake. Y/N gasped, staring into the murky darkness.

“Luke?” She called out. “Luke!” He resurfaced, spitting out a mouthful of water. A few moments passed before Y/N burst into laughter. She stepped forward but tripped over a stray tree root. She hit the water with a loud slap, shocking Luke. He gasped, quickly swimming over. “Sparky, you good?” Luke questioned, holding her tightly.

She coughed. “It hurt a little but I’m good. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m good. Thanks for asking, Sparky.” He twirled a strand of Y/N’s wet hair around his finger, his gaze flickering to her lips. “Don’t kill me for this, Y/N.” He whispered, leaning forward.

His lips pressed against Y/N’s, who froze in shock. The kiss only lasted a moment before Luke pulled away, holding back the animalistic urge to do it again.

“I won’t kill you… if you don’t kill me.” Y/N quietly responded, grabbing Luke by the front of his shirt and tugging him forward.

The second kiss was less controlled, more wild. Luke held Y/N tightly, scared she would slip away if he lowered his guard. In this moment, Luke didn’t care about his drenched t-shirt or his soaking hair. All he cared about, and had cared about for the last few years, was the girl in front of him

“You kissed?!” Clarisse screamed, tugging on the ends of her curled hair.

“Hey! I don’t want everybody to know!” Y/N hurriedly shushed the girl. They were hanging around in the arena for some extra sword training and Y/N clumsily mentioned last night.

“Okay, but seriously. Reel back. You guys kissed? Not once, but twice? Oh, man, Y/N. You are so whipped for Luke!”

“I am not! Besides,” Y/N fidgeted with her fingers as she spoke, “I heard one of the new Aphrodite girls is interested in Luke.”

“What? And you’re just gonna let her have him? You’ve been crushing on Luke since you first saw him.”

“I wouldn’t call it that! It was admiration.” Y/N quickly snapped to defend herself. Clarisse mockingly raised an eyebrow.

“You couldn’t stop gushing over how he pushed you out of harm’s way when you got claimed.” The Ares kid pointed out.

Y/N huffed. “I mean, I’m a feminist, obviously. But… I wouldn’t really mind him saving me. I’m not entirely opposed… to the idea. I’m just torn, okay?!”

“What are you confused about? Luke obliviously has the hots for you too.”

“Luke and I have been good friends for ages! I’ve known him for ages too! If we start dating and it goes up in flames… I don’t only lose a partner but I also lose a friend! There’s so many factors to consider. So many things that could go wrong.”

“You already kissed. Sooner or later, he’s gonna confront you.” Clarisse’s eyes flickered to a figure behind Y/N, “And looks like he chose now. You wanna talk to him or do you want me to make a distraction?”

“Distraction, please. I’m not ready. I need to understand my own feelings before dealing with his.” Y/N practically begged Clarisse. Being such a good friend, the daughter of Ares nodded.

“I got your back, girl.” She walked past Y/N, blocking Luke’s path. “Yo, Luke, you interested in having a little spar?”

“Uh, actually, I need to talk to Y/N.” Luke uttered, glancing over at the H/C-haired girl.

“Y/N needs to check on someone. One of the Ares kids got badly injured. You go ahead, Y/N. I’ll be with you soon.” Clarisse waved her off. Y/N silently hurried off, avoiding all eye contact with Luke.

She wasn’t ready to face him just yet. I mean, what do you say to a friend you kissed? More like made out with. And passionately, might I add. Beside a lake at night.

Y/N knew Luke would go looking for her an hour before curfew, so that’s exactly why she sought refuge in the Ares cabin.

“This feels stupid.” She murmured as she rolled under one of the bed, shooing the dust away.

“He’s obviously going to try and ask Clarisse about your whereabouts. You only have to hide under there until he leaves.” Erin, a girl who was a year younger than Y/N, spoke. As predicted, Luke knocked at the door.

“Hey.” He said when Erin swung it open. “Is Y/N or Clarisse here? I need to talk to ether of them but Y/N would be preferred.”

Erin shook her head. “No. Clarisse is showering right now. Maybe check Apollo’s cabin for Y/N. She might be helping out with the injured. She does that sometimes.”

The second Luke disappeared, Y/N crawled out from under the bed. She combed away the dust in her hair. “I know what you’re thinking.” She grumbled, looking up at Erin. “Why am I going through all this trouble? It’s complicated. I’m not ready to face him… yet.”

Erin hummed as she stepped towards Y/N. “None of us will be helpful with advice but if you really want help, visit the Aphrodite cabin.”

That’s how Y/N found herself standing on a porch decorated with pink and hearts and shining pearls. She sighed to herself before she hesitatingly knocked. A short blond girl answered the door immediately.

“We’ve been waiting for you.” She said while Y/N stared at her in discomfort. “Not in a creepy way, though. I swear. We knew you’d need help with you-know-who so we kind of planned it already. Come in.”

The girl warmly guided Y/N inside, beaming. “Our head counsellor isn’t here at the moment but Mai should be plenty of help!” The blond girl pointed over to a brunette who sat on her bed, reading a book. She was dressed in black shorts and a pink crop top. But when Mai looked up, Y/N was sure she was judging her.

“On second thought,” Y/N nervously said, “Maybe I should come back another time. Maybe in the afternoon?”

“The time you come doesn’t matter.” Mai piped up, closing her book. She gazed at Y/N curiously. “You’re afraid of expressing your feelings, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t know this was a therapy session.” Y/N lightly joked.

“Y/N, it’s obvious to everybody that you harbour some feelings towards Luke.” Mai said, pressing her pink-tinted lips into a thin line. “You guys are like the dynamic duo. I understand that dating someone who’s also a friend is scary but sometimes you’ve got to take the risk.”

“If you’re scared about going back to your cabin and running into Luke, you can crash here for the night.” The blonde girl from before offered. Nobody else seemed to have any problems with that so Y/N agreed.

She ended up on the bunk next to Mai, her unlicensed love therapist. Y/N tossed and turned but she still couldn’t fall asleep. She quietly groaned, rubbing her eyes.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” Mai piped up, pursing her lips.

“No. I can’t help but worry.”

“Let me ask you one question, Y/N. Do you like him?”

“Luke?”

“I didn’t say a name.”

Y/N groaned again. “Fine. You got me. Yes. I guess I like him. I like his smile and how he’s always giving me food and how he barges in when I’m feeling lonely. I think his curled hair is adorable and there’s no other guy better-looking than him to me. But… I’m scared that I just like his platonically. Or what if we do date and I end up losing him?”

Mai smiled. “Don’t stress over it too much. You’re the daughter of Zeus, after all.”

“Yeah, thanks. Good night, Mai.”

“Night, Y/N.”

Luke approached Y/N the next day at breakfast. He let out a subtle sigh of relief when she didn’t run away. “Hey,” He whispered to her, tapping her shoulder and interrupting her conversation with Erin and Clarisse. “Can we talk? Alone?”

“Uh, yeah.” Y/N exchanged looks with both of the girls, who nodded and mouthed good luck. “What did you want to talk about?” Y/N asked when they were in the safety of her cabin and away from all the prying eyes. She played with the hem of her bright orange shirt.

“Forgive me for how blunt I’m going to be but what are we, Y/N?” Luke asked, not beating around the bush.

“We’re friends.” Y/N choked out, her conversation with Mai last night going down the drain. Perhaps it was selfish but a part of her wanted to remain friends because at least that way, neither of them would get hurt.

“No.” Luke wildly shook his head, “Friends don’t kiss. Friends don’t spend the night in the other’s cabin. Friends don’t look at each other like we do. Friends don’t sneak out in the middle of the night to go to a lake and end up making out! And now you’re ignoring me!”

His voice increased in volume the more he spoke.

“That was a mistake, Luke! I-I didn’t meant to! It just happened! I’m not ignoring you! What makes you think that?!”

“Well, what am I supposed to think, Y/N? You’re always running off and our conversations are up and down now. Sometimes we don’t talk for days! Sometimes you seem obsessed with me! I don’t know what to think!”

“That’s rich, coming from you!” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “If you’re not with Chris then you’re with that Aphrodite girl! You practically ignore me when you’re with her!” Y/N harshly poked his chest.

“I do not! And back to the previous conversation, was it really a mistake? Was hugging me a mistake? Was staring so adoringly at me a mistake? Was kissing me a mistake?! Maybe it was a mistake to you, but it wasn’t to me.” Luke caressed her face, holding it tightly. “Kissing you… will never be a mistake to me. Never, ever.”

Y/N gulped, practically shaking in Luke’s embrace. His lips lightly brushed her’s and she flinched.

“Sparky- Princess- Y/N,” He finally decided on what to call her in the heated moment. “I have feelings for you. And I have for a long time. So if you don’t like me back… just tell me. Because I can’t spend the rest of my life chasing after you. I get that you might be in denial but once I walk through those doors, I’m giving up.”

“Luke…”

“Do you like me or not?”

“Luke… please…” Y/N didn’t really know what she was begging for. Tears welled up in her eyes as he took a small step towards the door.

“Do you like me or not?” He repeated in a firmer tone.

Y/N silently stared at the ground, her hands clenched into fists.

“I guess I was wrong about you returning my feelings… I’m sorry for bothering you. I’ll leave now.”

Y/N’s body moved on its own as she reached out to grab his arm and harshly pull him back. Her voice was supposed to be gentle but hanging out with Clarisse seemed to have an impact on her.

“Of course I like you, Luke! How could I not? But I’m afraid and confused and I don’t know what to do. I see the way other girls look at you. They like you. And I’m scared that I don’t stand a chance against them. And what if we mess up, Luke? If we date then break up, we won’t be able to be friends again. I can’t handle that!”

“I don’t think I can be just friends with you right now, Y/N.” Luke softly replied, taking Y/N’s hand in his and pressing a light kiss to it. Y/N stared at him with flushed cheeks. “I don’t care about any of those other girls. The only person I care about is you. We don’t have to rush into a relationship but I just need to hear you say that you like me. That’s all I need for now. Can you do that for me?”

Y/N shakily inhaled. “I…” She hesitated. “I like you, Luke.”

Luke pulled her into a hug, smiling as he inhaled the sweet scent of Y/N’s perfume. “That’s all I needed to hear, Sparky.”

[acotarxreader]

Storm Chaser

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: You and Azriel go your separate ways after a vicious fight leaves Azriels jealousy calling the shots but can the ever brave Illyrian brave a storm without you.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, storms?

A/N: A silly goofy fic. I wrote 5 other fics today and I'm going back to edit a monster of a one tomorrow, it has such a serious amount of angst in it I've run out of synonyms 😂 Nothing like a day off from college to send my hands typing😌

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

“WELL THEN?!”

“IF YOU DON'T STOP SHOUTING AT ME AZRIEL I’M LEAVING!” your partner crossed his arms tightly across his chest and furrowed his brows, anger and frustration twisted across his face. He huffed loudly while you threw your head back in frustration. Taking a long, deep breath in and out before looking at him again. His bedroom, the stage of this battle.

“Azriel” he couldn't meet your eyes. You huffed at his response. Azriel was always the jealous type but this was taking it to the next level.

“I’m the one who should be mad with you Azriel… you followed me...like I was one of your targets” you said quietly and firmly. Azriel still looking anywhere but you.

“Azriel…”

“WELL WHAT THE FUCK ELSE WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO YNN?!” His raise in volume again fueled your anger.

“I DON'T KNOW? HMMM? WHAT COULD MY PARTNER HAVE POSSIBLY DONE TO FIND OUT IF I WAS CHEATING ON HIM? HMMM, I WONDER, I MEAN HE COULDN'T TALK TO ME ABOUT IT, THAT WOULD BE INSANITY!” you sarcastically shout back to match his volume. Azriel ran his hands through his hair in angry frustration. He hated this argument even though he was always the one to start it. He couldn’t help his thoughts, his jealousy, his behaviour.

“You have to stop this incessant insecurity” The words cut Azriel probably deeper than you intended, his voice escaping him before he could control it.

“OH FUCK OFF YNN I WOULDN'T PUT IT PAST YOU, YOUR PARENTS WERE CHEATING ON EACH OTHER, IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY!” Azriel tried to stop the words from bellowing from him as they left his mouth but he couldn’t. You took a step back from him at the words, regret fogging Azriel instantly. 

“No wait YNN, I didn’t mea-”

“Don't call me that, don’t call me YNN ever again” You fought the tears growing, this was further than the argument usually ran on for. Deeper than it had before. 

“I-I can’t do this anymore Az! I can’t! This is insanity, round and round again. It’s too much, it’s too much all the time, you’re too much all the time. You go off threatening everyone who even looks at me. You threatened Cassian, Az. Cassian! I can’t handle your intensity every single day in and out.” The words were low and shaky as Azriel found himself unable to support his weight under your words, sitting down to relieve some ounce of strain on the edge of his bed. 

“You don’t love me anymore?” The words were as heartbreaking as the look on his face. You sat slowly next to him, taking his hand lightly in yours. 

“I think I love you so much some days I think my heart will burst but-but- I need space, I need time, I need-”

“Anyone but me? I can’t help but want to protect you” You shook your head at his words, standing again, releasing his hand for what would be the last time in a long while. 

“This level of control goes beyond protecting. Az I-”

“Go YNN, leave! Go!” anger leaked through the words, his armour to shield his shattering heart, his face twisting in an almost blind rage, a look he had never given you ran a chill down your spine. Then you did. You went.

-

You fell to the outskirts of the group, only meeting to carry out your official role within the Court as Rhysand’s emissary to the other Solar Courts. You and Azriel did your best to stay out of one another's way, trying not to show the hurt you both still felt by the words that had cut you both. The group could feel the awkward energy but chose to believe that you both would sort it yourselves and were in no rush to get involved. A few months after the break up, Feyre had had enough of the divide. 

“Please come YN”

“Feyre” you sighed, closing your novel, landing your eyes on Feyre's puppy dog eyes. 

“C’mon, we’re all going to the cabin for my birthday, it’ll be fun! Please come, Mor is already not coming because she’s on the continent, you’re not also going to bail are you?”

“Fine” you sighed, the guilt trip working on you. 

-

Your friends and you sat around the painted living room table of the cabin, the wind howling violently outside. You enjoyed the familiar energy of your family truly relaxing into their environment. You sat across the way from Azriel, all playing a round of cards, for the first time in a long time, some element of normalcy hung between you. Until it was time for bed. 

Everyone was mated except for you and Azriel, even Amren had brought Varian to keep her company in the wild hills. The cabin expanded to allow enough rooms for all the guests and as the fire crackled down the couples retired to their rooms, leaving you and Azriel alone for the first time in a long time. 

“Well, I better head to bed Az” You smiled softly at the Spymaster who looked like sleep evaded him. 

“Goodnight YNN- or sorry YN” he pushed the flush rising to his cheeks away. 

“It's okay Azills'' You found a small laugh leaving you at the nickname you never thought you’d hear again. Lucien came stomping out of the room the Cabin had given him and Elain, pillow and blanket in hand. 

“I have to sleep out here” he said sheepishly. 

“Lucien, take my room, I’ll sleep out here, I’m very comfortable” Azriel sprawled along the deep sofa, pulling a throw blanket down around him. Lucien nodded in thanks, swiftly exiting the room in his embarrassment.  You then gave Azriel a small wave before leaving him to cuddle into the couch. 

You stared up at the ceiling of the cabin for an hour or two, the last time you were here you and Azriel stayed awake the whole night worshipping one another's bodies. A small shiver ran down your spine at the warm memory. 

The sky then seemed to entirely crack and shatter open above, the heavy torrential rain making an attempt to come in the wooden roof above you. You swaddled yourself deeper into the sheets, protecting yourself from the eardrum-bursting sound. 

The lightning came then, cruel and unforgiving, making your veins feel alive. Lighting the whole bedroom before plunging it back into darkness, the electricity of the storm interfering with the power in the cabin, plunging the place into the dark. Thunder rattled the wooden walls, almost shaking you in the bed. You smiled at the feeling, loving storms so deeply for their unkempt uncontrollable nature. The air was thick with the electricity that coursed through it and then a thought came to you as fast as the lightning. A certain someone who hated storms with a burning passion, an irrational fear he was quite ashamed of was in the sitting room full of windows, alone. You rose from the bed, another crack of lightning hit, setting your adrenaline on fire and you loved the feeling so purely. 

“Hey Az?” you cautiously whispered in from the doorway of your room. 

“Y-yeah YN, are-are you okay?” he replied quickly, cursing his shaking voice. You thought about the proud male, quietly rattling in his make-shift bed and decided to be kind. 

“Az, I’m kind of scared, can you come in here?” you buried your lying smirk as you removed yourself from the doorway and lay back into the bed. The silence that followed had your mind racing, did you make the wrong call? Had you just embarrassed yourself for the sake of nothing, you could almost feel Azriel through the wall weighing up his options. Another boom of deafening thunder sent Azriel bolting across the living room, slamming to a stop on his heels in the doorway, trying to play his run off as easy breezy. You buried your grin under the duvet as he slipped into the bed below the sheet. 

“I’ll protect you” 

“My hero” you teased, he wrapped his heavy arms around you, pulling you into such a familiar position. You could hear his heart beating 120km/hr off his chest in erratic movement and you muffled your smile into him. 

“That’s what partn- it's what friends are for” he said into your hair, cursing his little slip-up internally. Lightning lit up the room again, Azriel gripping you to almost bone-crushing levels of pressure. You intertwined your legs with his, tracing a small circle along the base of his spine, calming him down under your touch. Azriel had missed being this close to you, missed your scent on his skin, your loving touch and he knew you loved storms, he knew this whole thing was to protect his ego. He didn’t mind, if this was his one and only chance to hold you again in his arms he’d take it. 

“YNN, I don’t think you cheated on me” he found the words slip from his voice into the comfortable silence. You looked up from his chest to meet his eyes. 

“I don’t think I did either Azills” you smirked and he returned the same.

“I’m serious YN, I should have trusted you more, I know I can trust you more…..would you consider giving me the opportunity to trust you more?”

“I don’t know Az” your voice betrayed your heart in favour of your head.

“I can prove I’m serious” he pulled away from you suddenly and you missed the heat and the shape of his body against yours. 

“What are you doing?” you half laughed, leaning up on one arm to watch him run out into the living area before you followed him confusedly. You watched him haphazardly throw on his shoes, and whip the front door open, the wild cruel wind blowing gail throughout the cabin. 

“Are you crazy?!” you almost shouted over the wind. 

“About us?! Yeah!” 

“Crazy and cheesy it would seem!” you laughed before he winked at you and ran off into the storm, you chased after him, stopping at the threshold of the door. 

“Azriel what the fuck come back!” you were shouting in a mix of hysterical laughing and absolute fear for him. 

“Do you believe me?!” The rain lashed off of his body, the wind threatening to whip under his wings and lift him to be lost to the sky forever. 

“Yes! Yes! Come back inside you freak!” your laugh rose over the lightning, lighting the path back to the house for Azriel. He bolted in fast from the storm, the bravery being seriously tested as the thunder bellowed. His soaking hand took yours, as he almost ran you back into your room. 

“You’re out of your mind Az” you looked at the drenched Illyrian with wind-burned cheeks and messy dark brown hair in knots on his head. He looked as wild and untamed as the storm but more of a mess, your mess. 

“YN, I know it will take more than storm chasing to prove it to you but please, let me prove it to you and I -”

“-Yes" you cut across him with the best word he had ever heard, he pulled you into his soaked body as you shrieked with the cold, but you couldn’t not laugh. Azriel's icy lips met your warmer ones and you missed one another in immeasurable amounts. Thunder rolled loudly again, causing Azriel to jump. 

“Come on storm chaser, you can protect me better from under the covers”

“It is my only job”

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

Hehe, whatcha think?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 22

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, blood, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

It’s not calm. It’s just nothing. You’re not afraid, you’re not angry, or sad, or anything. Just empty. The tension clings to his touch as he draws away and you’re left just like that. Numb, but not quite. 

You turn onto your back as the soldier stands. You watch him in the strange haze of your existence. Your eyes close as the fire crackles around the fresh log he lays on it. You sink into the depths of your heedless mind. 

When you rouse again, it isn’t for long. He’s dressed in black. As always. But you know by his stance, by his armour and cowl, that he is on his way out. He pauses to pet your head before he goes. You don’t react. 

You shut your eyes again and let the sleep take over your addled body. The pain recedes to a dull thrum and your thoughts slow to a placid ripple. Hours unfurl in shadowy ribbons. When you wake again, you can sense the time passed. Close to a day. 

He is still gone. 

You get up, keeping your injured foot off the floor, and hop around in search of your keeper. You lean on the wall to keep your balance as you make your way through the cabin. You stop in the bedroom door and stare at the blood stain on the wooden floor. You quiver at the memory of the intruder’s fate. 

You retreat to the kitchen and sit for a while. Your appetite sours your stomach. You don’t know how as your thoughts threaten to make you nauseous.  

You flinch as the wind rattles the windows and whistles just outside those battered walls. The world slows and so do your thoughts, just enough to sort them. How did that man find you? How did he get past the traps? Is he the only one? No, you can’t believe that the villain who took you has only a single enemy. 

You get up and go to the fridge. There’s a covered plate with a note on it. ‘Eat’. You bring it to the table and remove the foil. Two hard-boiled eggs, a peeled and separated orange, a cup of cottage cheese, and whole wheat crackers. It’s not fancy or especially tasty but it’s more than enough. 

As you wash the plate, you notice the mug. Another note. ‘Drink’. There’s a packet of instant coffee tucked behind the paper torn from the same notebook he kept by the bed. 

You add boiling water to the mix and gratefully down the caffeine. The familiar taste is comforting. You stay at the table for a while, your eyes skimming the front room. The place is as bland as the meal. 

Then you see it. It wasn’t there before the chaos. You stand and hobble through the open doorway and across the room. You stop before the armchair and the stack on the seat. There’s an unopened package of pencils, a sharpener too; beneath, several puzzle books, another book of blank pages, and a rubik’s cube. 

Under all that, is something else. A dress. Yellow linen, with eyelets around the waist and short sleeves, and buttons down the front. The buttons are pearl and you can tell it is true vintage. 

You leave it on the chair and take a puzzle book. You open the box of pencils and sharpen it to a point. You open the pages and the smell of paper invades your nose. It’s nice. You love that smell. It’s the best you’ve felt in weeks just tasting that scent. 

You sit and do a puzzle. You stop as your cheeks ache. You’re smiling. Something so simple is the most amazing thing you’ve ever done. Just writing the letters. Knowing the answers. You close the book and hold it in your lap as your eyes glaze over. 

You sit hunched on the couch and sob. It could be the pain, it could be the horror of what you witnessed, it could be the terror of what’s to come, the isolation of this cabin, it is everything and anything. Your grief bubbles over and constricts your ribs to the point of breathlessness. You let it all out until you are spent and your cheeks are raw. 

You shakily set down the book on the side table and stand. You angle over to the chair on one foot and lift the dress. You look down at the dark shirt; his. You don’t even remember him putting it on you. 

You strip it off and pull on the dress. It smells like laundry detergent. It’s soft. It’s lovely. It makes you feel a little more human. 

You limp, touching only the toes of your wounded foot to the floor, and go into the bathroom. You can only see to just below your chest in the mirror. Your face and your hair are a disaster but you don’t care. The dress is nice. It’s cute. 

You just watch yourself as you run your hands up and down the fabric. You stay there until you can bear to stand no longer. You come back out, hopping again, but before you can reach the front room, there’s a clatter at the door. 

You cry out as your heart lurches. You search around for anything, something to defend yourself. What if it’s not him? What if it’s another villain? 

The door swings open but does not assuage your fears. It is the soldier but he is not himself. He has his cowl still in place and his body seems to steam as his chest rises and falls rapidly. His muscles are tense beneath the taut fabric, bulging in his armour. 

You cannot see his expression but you can imagine it by his posture. He marches forward mechanically and you whine as you throw up your hands. He grabs your head between his large hands and you struggle with him, dancing on your toes as you cry out in agony. 

“No, please,” you beg. 

That little bit of joy flies out the door and fades into the billowing winds. You push against his stomach as he tries to pull you closer. You ball one hand and beat on his chest as you strain to keep him from smothering you. 

“No, don’t! No, no, not like this,” you plead as you snake your hand up.  

You writhe in his grasp as you get a thumb under his cowl. You slide the strap from his chin and the mask shifts. You continue to push against him as you flip it up, getting it just above his mouth. You tear at it again and unveil his face. 

You look up at him as his eyes fall to you. His scar is a torturous shade of white as he clenches his jaw. His eyes are dilated and dark. Just like the first time he returned. Your insides quake at just the thought. 

He clutches at your dress and pulls you closer. You squeak and shakily press your hand to his cheek. You caress him with your fingertips as he crushes you again him, your arm folding between your bodies. You brush through his sweaty strands and tremble. 

“Please, be nice,” you quaver. “Be soft to me, soldier. Please.” 

He squeezes you until you can’t breathe. You flutter your fingers around his ear and whimper once more. Then he slackens his hold on you and unhooks his arm from your waist. His eyes clear and his hands rest lightly on your hips. 

He opens his mouth and outlines a word with his lips, ‘soft’. 

[wosoragebaiter69]

recovery takes time

part 2 of ‘you are broken on the floor’

alexia putellas x keeper!reader

request: here

A/N: reminder that i’m a writer and not a med student so idk what times are like for this..

also since y’all wanted me to ask more questions.. if you’ve experienced anything paranormal lmk because i’m interested in that stuff and experienced stuff myself so 🤷

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

The first few weeks of recovery are the worst, you can’t do anything at all. Even walking is a challenge, how would you ever go back to where you were?

Alexia was always by your side though, helping wherever she could considering you weren’t allowed to lift anything. The concussion went away as expected and now was just a long journey of recovery ahead.

“You and I both know you’ll be back out on the soon, give yourself time. Recovery isn’t a quick process, remember what you told me when I did my ACL.” She’d say things similar to that, and for a while you’d believe her until you saw what the media kept saying.

As much as it affected your mental health, it only made you want to come back stronger and be better, to prove the critics wrong. To show the world who you were and that you were staying.

- - - - -

After 10 weeks, you could do regular tasks again. It did tire you out but it gave you strength and the feeling you had control over something. It’s something you so desperately needed, outside of Alexia of course.

You started to head back to the training grounds for meetings with physios and trainers who were doing their best to assess where to start when lifting weights and doing other flexible motions with your arms and chest that isn’t too harsh.

While it still isn’t much, it’s still something. That’s all that matters.

- - - - -

When you were first cleared to lift 5kg, Alexia was there. She always was when you had more progress in getting closer to the pitch. She was your number 1 supporter and it really encouraged you to be better.

When you could fully stretch your arms without pain or feeling uncomfortable, she was there.

When you could go back to lifting regular weights in gym sessions, she’d watch you while feeling immense pride at how far you’d come.

When you were kicked balls to for the first time again, she watched and congratulated every ball you saved.

She’s your knight in shining armour.

- - - - -

The day of your first game, a year of recovery behind you. You were finally starting for your club again. You stand tall behind your girlfriend who sports the armband.

Ever since it was announced you were in training and back in the squad, the media had been relentless. Asking too many questions. Wondering too many things.

You had one job tonight, and that was to show the world who you were. Who you are. Who you will be.

You walk out, fans yelling and cheering as the Barça anthem plays in the background. You missed this so bad.

- - - - -

The game was tough, some shots on you but you managed to keep a clean sheet. Alexia smiling and crowd roaring at you as you did so.

When the final whistle blows, Ale runs to you first pulling you into a crushing hug.

“Mi amor, you did so well.” She wraps her arms around your waist and kisses your neck.

“Thanks Ale, couldn’t have done it without you.” You reply, hands brushing up and down her back.

No matter what happened in life, you’d always want to do it with Alexia. Only Alexia.

—————————————————————————

i’m gonna close my requests for the time being so i can get through my 7 other works 🙏

[asharasasylum]

Pretty Baby I ♡  Rafe Cameron x Step/Adopted!Sister Reader

author's note: I needed to publish something and I found this saved in my drafts. It’s in 2 parts. (Part 2 in now here) It’s not really edited either and not amazing so I’m sorry about that. I do want to say the main character is inspired by Nicola Peltz character in backroads. Please really read the warnings with this one. warnings: Dark. Abuse. Violence. Child Abuse. Parental abuse. Angst. Trauma responses. Obsession from both ends. Manipulation. Gaslighting. Toxic relationship!! Aged up characters. Step-cest. Eventual Smut. Eventual character death. 18+ MDNI

He's your saviour, your knight in shining armour but he can also be your own worst enemy.

It was your tenth birthday when your father was finally arrested. 

While he deserved it, truly deserved it, you didn’t care. 

All you could do was cry as you sat at the back of Peterkin’s car, babbling about how you just wanted to see your daddy. 

It must have been a few hours later, time rolling into the late hours of the night and you were still with Peterkin. Only you had found yourself in the police station, tear stained face as you bit at the nail of your thumb. 

“Y/N.” 

You turned to look up at Peterkin to find her standing beside a man you didn’t recognise. 

“This is Ward Cameron,” Peterkin introduced you, with a small smile. 

The man tried to give you a smile but his face dropped as soon as he took you in. You hadn’t realised how bad your appearance was then, the purple marks that covered your skin were a normality you were accustomed to. 

Peterkin took Ward a few steps from you, somewhere they thought you couldn’t hear. 

“Did he- Did he do that to her?” Ward questioned. 

Peterkin just nodded. 

“But he’s her father,” Ward was in clear disbelief as he spoke, pointing at you. 

“And now she has no one.” 

That’s all Ward apparently needed to hear, throwing his jacket over your shoulders as he directed you to his car. 

He tried to make light conversation in the car, bringing up things he thought you might like, only to find him stumbling on his words each time you said you didn’t know what he was talking about. But he never stopped trying, and you think you were glad for that. 

It was the next day that you met everyone, all of them welcoming you with open arms, excluding Rafe. 

He had glared at you, eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. It was almost as if he was waiting for the opportunity to crack your school open on the wall behind you. He just needed you to give him reason enough to do so. 

You didn’t know when he stopped looking at you like that but eventually a few years down the line you and Rafe were more akin than you had ever believed possible. Even if there was still that anger that bubbled underneath Rafe’s skin when he looked at you, a tinge of coldness behind those eyes. 

You were fifteen when Rafe saved you and at that age you still seemed to hate each other more than ever. 

“I can’t believe you’re forcing me to come to the wreck with you and your stupid friends,” you huffed, leaning against the car window. 

“Dad said I need to look after you while they’re out for a few days,” Rafe argued back, yanking your arm off of his window. “You’re going to get marks over my car.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, settling for resting your arms in your lap. “I’m sure he just meant to watch out for me, not drag me to everything you’re doing.” 

“It’s food at the wreck. I’m sure you’ll cope.” 

You didn’t know who you hated more at times, Rafe or his friends. The arrogance that radiated off of them at all times made you want to vomit in your mouth. You never understood why they bothered to come to this side of the island if all they wanted to do was sit and make jokes about the people that lived here. 

It was within ten minutes that you found yourself outside, walking along the boardwalk. The gentle North Carolina breeze brushed against your skin as you stared out into the bay. It was quiet, too cool outside for people to be lingering. 

That’s what you had thought until a familiar voice was calling your name. 

“Y/N… it’s you, isn’t it?” 

Your stomach dropped and as if your body was working on autopilot, you froze to the spot. 

This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Precautions had been put in place to stop this from happening, restraining orders filed and prison walls to keep him locked up and away from you. Wherever Ward had needed to do, he had made sure to do it. 

But clearly it hadn’t been enough as your dad stood a few feet away from you, inching close every second. 

“Baby, I’ve missed you so much,” he said, hands reaching out for you. 

He looked the exact same, the blackness around his eyes from years of addiction and the cracked lips. He sounded the same too. 

And when he took a step forward, you were ten years old all over again. 

“You can’t be here,” you finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper. 

“I-I had to s-see you,” he stuttered, hand reaching forward as he got closer. 

Only now you were finally walking back. 

“Baby. It’s me.” 

“You can’t be near me,” you spoke louder this time, trying to put space between the pair of you.

But your dad was faster and without warning his hand latched around your neck, yanking your body towards him. 

“Dad, please,” you pleaded, eyes wide as you tried to pry his hands from your throat. 

“It was you that put that order against me,” he spat, grip tightening. “I knew it was you.” 

He was shaking, veins popping out the side of his head. You knew the look, it was the first thing you saw when you closed your eyes at night. But it changed slightly, he had never been this enraged before. It was like he wanted to kill you, like taking his temper out on you for years wasn’t enough. 

“It was you that called the police that day, wasn’t it?” 

You shook your head, a sob caught at the back of your throat as you told him, “No, I swear.” 

“Don’t lie to me.” 

“I swear it wasn’t me.” 

“I did five fucking years in that prison because of you.” 

His grip was bruising and you weren’t sure if the fact you couldn’t breathe was because of his hands on your neck or because you were choking on your own sobs. 

Your ears were ringing so loud that you didn’t hear Rafe running over to you. But you saw him when his fist flew into your father’s cheek and you watched as his foot slammed into your father’s body over and over again. 

“Don’t you ever touch her,” Rafe screamed into the man’s face, dropping to his knees as he drove his fist into your father’s face. 

Kelce and Topper eventually pried Rafe off of your father, realising that he probably wasn’t going to stop until he killed him. 

You were surprised he wasn’t already dead yet, his lifeless body covered in blood and bruises as he wheezed out a breath. 

Rafe was quick to cover your view, grabbing your face in his battered hands as he held you. 

“Are you okay?” Rafe questioned, eyes staring into yours. 

You were crying, you hadn’t realised how badly until Rafe touched your soaked cheeks. 

“Why didn’t you scream for me?” His voice was panicked, blue eyes running over you to check you were okay. 

“I’m sorry,” you broke into a fit of sobs, unsure of what else to say. 

Rafe pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly as he wrapped his arms around yours. “You don’t need to apologise. You haven’t done anything wrong, Y/N.” 

Rafe didn’t leave you alone that night and you were grateful for that. It must have been hours before you calmed down, sobs turning into sniffles as Rafe consoled you. But eventually it happened. 

“No ones ever done something like that for me,” you told Rafe, eyes finally peering up at him through wet lashes. 

“I care about you,” Rafe’s voice was gentle as he spoke, a sincerity to it that you had never heard before. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you.” 

You chuckled then, you hadn’t meant to because what you were thinking wasn’t really funny but you had. 

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I thought you hated me,” you confessed.

“I don’t hate you.” his lips lifted into a smile then. “I guess I haven’t always been the best brother.” 

“That’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not okay. You deserve better.” 

There was a sort of silence that fell over the pair of you then. One you were eager to fill, unsure how to process Rafe’s words. 

“Can I stay here tonight?” You asked.

“Of course.” 

It was Rafe’s gentle breaths that eased you into a sleep that night, face buried into his chest as he continued to hold you. 

That was the first night of many. 

Everytime you found yourself awoken to your own gasps of breath, it was Rafe who you sought after for comfort. You’d always be knocking on his door at odd times in the night, wet round eyes looking up at him, pleading for entrance that he was so willing to give. 

It was Ward that had to intervene, finding you in Rafe’s bed one morning. 

Then sleepovers with Rafe were switched for therapy sessions and while you were desperate to get them back, you knew that going against Ward wasn’t something either of you really wanted to do. 

So you didn’t even though you always really wanted to. 

From then on it was a thin line that you and Rafe tread along. 

One that was quickly blurring with each word that slipped past his lips. 

“It’s fucking disgusting, do you know that?” Rafe spat, storming away with your phone in his hand. “Fucking throwing yourself at my friends like a slut.” 

“He gave me his number. Not the other way round,” you shouted at him, chasing him through the greenery. 

All of Rafe’s friends were staring at you, used to the constant arguments between you and your older brother by now. But luckily you had put some space between you and them, the words that were threatening to spill from your mouth you didn’t want them to hear. 

“And you were lapping every single bit of it up,” he shouted, facing you now. 

“Is that so wrong?” You asked, throwing your hands up in frustration. “I think you seem to forget that my dating life has literally nothing to do with you.” 

You could feel the anger pouring off him, nose flared and eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to you. “It’s hard not to make it my business when you embarrass me in front of all my friends.” 

“Fuck you, Rafe.” You hit your hands on his chest in a pathetic hope it would hurt him. 

He seized your arm, yanking your body towards his. 

“I hate you,” you swore, wishing the words into existence. Even though you knew they’d never come true. 

Rafe saw right through you, shaking his head as he laughed. “You hate me?” 

“I fucking hate you, Rafe. You’re awful.” 

“I guess you won’t mind if I do this then.” 

Within a second your phone was smashed to the ground, his foot following it. 

You screamed at him as he did it, fists flying at him as you kept repeating that you hated him. It’s like he didn’t even hear you, didn’t even feel you as he continued to break your phone into pieces on the ground. 

“You’re a fucking psycho,” you hissed.

He turned to you, eyes clouded with a darkness that almost frightened you. Almost. 

When his hand reached to touch you, you slapped it away. 

“Let’s go,” he demanded, stepping over your phone as he walked to the direction of the car park. 

With a tearful gaze you followed him, not even bothering to pick up your shattered phone on the way. 

There was no use fighting him, not when he was like this. It’s not like you wanted to argue against him, not here anyway. There were things you were itching to say. Things that couldn’t be said in front of the likes of the people here. In front of anyone really. 

When he shoved you into the car, those feelings bubbled up into your chest, hard to ignore when his fingers touched your skin. They dragged along the column of your chest, eyes following them as they trailed upwards, reaching to grip around your throat. 

“Do you like embarrassing me?” He said, voice low as it cut through you. 

“Do you like hurting me?” You retorted back. 

He shook his head, kissing his teeth. “Don’t…” 

He bit down on his words, hand dropping as he turned away from you. 

But you knew exactly what he was going to say. 

Because you were thinking it. 

//

Rafe had been walking on eggshells around the house all evening with you. He lurked behind corners when you were around, clearly waiting for the right moment to talk to you. 

It wasn’t till you were fighting with your late night thoughts, making your way down to the kitchen for a moment of peace, that he found you.

You felt him before you heard him, feeling his body slowly gravitating towards you. 

“Can’t sleep?” 

“No,” you were cold as you answered him. 

“You’re still mad at me,” he stated. 

You twisted around to look at him in the darkness of the kitchen, wanting to glare at him, to cuss him out but you struggled to find the energy to even do so. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

But he didn’t need to apologise, his words barely touching your ears when his scent was crowding your senses. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rafe shook his head, age turning away from you. “Stop.” 

“I don’t mean to,” you croaked, unable to take your wet gaze away from his face. 

He sighed, rubbing his jaw with his thumb as if taking a second to contemplate something. All it took was another look at you and it was as if his decision had already been made.

“Dad’s gone for the weekend,” he told you, eyes finally lifting up to yours. “He won't be back till Monday.” 

He didn’t need to ask, you both knew what he was saying and you both knew what your answer would be. You’d never said no to Rafe before. Why would tonight be any different? 

You always took the left side of Rafe’s bed. It was the closest to the door, easiest to get to in ungodly hours when you needed him. He was always accommodating, leaving the space for you free even after months of you not being there. It was second nature for both of you at this point, even when you didn’t want it to be. 

There was something oddly comforting about it. The fact that Rafe after months still slept on the same side of the bed as if he was always waiting for you to take the other side.

For years it had always just felt like a delusional fantasy. But in the last few months, especially with the way Rafe had been acting, you felt your mind starting to believe that the feelings you had could possibly be shared. 

It's all you could think about as you stared into his eyes, his fingers playing with yours. It’s all you thought about.

“Rafe,” you whispered. 

He hummed in acknowledgment, fingers sliding under the bottom of your top as he rubbed your sides. 

You couldn’t help but sigh at the subtle touch, stirring a heat inside you that was hard to ignore. 

“What is it?” He asked. 

“You know,” You swallowed, struggling to get the right words out. 

There were so many things to say but how were you even supposed to say them? 

Rafe closed his eyes, hand tightening around your hip as he gripped onto it. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, it was more of a gentle squeeze, something you mistook as reassurance. 

It was hard not to lean into him, brushing your nose against his. Everything about it felt right, even if it was entirely wrong. 

“Rafe,” you breathed, your words touching his lips. 

His hand retracted from you and suddenly his words were saying things you didn’t want to hear. Things you hadn’t expected to hear. 

“Don’t,” it was quiet, hardly above a whisper as it left his lips. 

“What?” You were taken back entirely.

“You can’t stay in here if you’re going to kiss me,” he answered through clenched teeth. 

“Right.” 

But nothing about this felt right as you retreated from him. 

Had you completely misread all the signs? Had you really been feeding so much into your delusional fantasies that actually believed they could come true? 

His hand being snatched was like a final cord that snapped in you and just couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“So you don’t want me but you don’t want anyone else to have me?” You asked, sitting up on the bed. “Make it make sense.” 

“You’re my sister, Y/N. Am I not allowed to be over protective with you?” He retorted back.

“No, because it’s not just that,” your words were getting caught in your throat, desperate to come out. “You- You don’t act that way with a sister and you know that.” 

“You’re reading into things-“ 

“Fuck you, Rafe,” you hit at him, this time it had been with a force that meant to hurt. “I’m not crazy and don’t make me feel like I am.” 

Everything was rising to the service suddenly, all the feelings you had bottled up for years, threatening to drown you if you didn’t let them out. 

“You know how I feel.” Tears filled your eyes as you gazed down at him, pleading for some sort of reaction. 

“Maybe I step over the line of being inappropriate with you,” he tried to say. “And I don’t mean to do that but that doesn’t mean-“ 

“Oh my fucking god,” you almost laughed at his words.

He was spouting bullshit at you, words he probably told millions of other girls after leading them on for ages, only to drop them as if they were nothing more than the dirt on the bottom of his shoe. 

But you weren’t just any girl. 

“You’re going to wake everyone up,” he hissed as if he was mad at you. 

You wanted to hurt him then. You had never wanted to hurt Rafe before, maybe get under his skin from time to time or push his buttons. But you wanted him to bleed for you like you did for him. 

“You’re sick,” you spat at him. 

His hand reached out towards you and you slapped it away. 

“I’m not some random fucking girl, Rafe,” you cried, shaking beside him. “You’re evil.” 

You couldn’t even look at him, too scared of how you might react. 

You needed to leave that room, try and save the last bit of sanity you might have left. 

It wasn’t hard when Rafe didn’t even try to pull you back in, not even saying anything to make you stay. 

“You know I didn’t want to say it before but you do remind me of him.” 

The last place you had expected to find yourself had been the cut, drinking and smoking with Sarah and her friends. But after a week of you wallowing in your own self pity, Sarah was growing incredibly worried. Most of your household was. 

You wondered if they knew what happened, especially with the way you acted in the house. It wasn’t hard to notice you were avoiding Rafe in your own home. You two were always drawn to each other, practically spending every second together in that house, to laugh, to chat, to fight. It didn’t matter how happy or upset you were, you were always found together. 

But every time he stepped into a room, you were looking to find the quickest exit. Never being in a room with him for longer than a second. 

You needed space from him as much as you possibly could get. As much as he would even allow you. 

You weren’t sure if Rafe knew where you were and there was some part in you that hoped he did, wanting him to be so angry with you in this second. You just wanted him to feel something for you, even if it came through a deep anger that had you flinching from him. 

You swallowed the rest of your drink at that, trying to forget even if it was just for a few seconds. But there was always something pulling you back in. 

This time it was Sarah, phone in hand as she grabbed your attention with a call of your name. 

“Yeah?” You asked, trying to muster a small smile. 

“It’s Rafe,” she told you, signaling to her phone. “He won’t stop calling me. He’s asking to speak to you.” 

“No,” you simply said but your face twisted into something hideous. 

You could tell in the way Sarah instantly listened to you, telling Rafe some excuse about why you wouldn’t talk to me. 

But you knew she wouldn’t drop it that easily. It’s why seconds later you found her sitting next to you, wearing a weary look as she took you in. 

“You know you can talk to me,” Sarah whispered, hand reaching out for yours. 

“I know,” you nodded. 

“Did something happen between you and Rafe?” She asked, squeezing your hand. 

You looked at her then, furrowing your brows. 

“Did he do something to you?” 

You snatched your hand from hers, eyes widening at her suggestion. 

“I see the way he looks at you,” she continued, a scowl sitting on her lips as the thought crossed her mind. “It’s sickening.” 

“He didn’t touch me,” you confessed.

How were you supposed to tell her that was the reason you were upset? Because he wouldn’t touch you. 

“Can’t I just be mad at him because he’s the biggest asshole on this whole island?” 

“You can say that again,” she agreed. “We all hate him here.” 

“I don’t hate him,” the words rolled off your tongue like second nature, always ready to defend Rafe even when you knew you shouldn’t.

“I don’t get it,” she sarcastically laughed, shaking her head. “I swear Rafe could burn this whole island to the ground, taking me and the rest of our family with it and you’d just hold his hand as he did it.” 

“That’s not true, Sarah.” Your face softened when you looked at her. “You mean everything to me.” 

“But Rafe means more, right?” 

“No.” You shook your head. “It’s different with Rafe. You know that.” 

“But he’s a bad person.” 

“You know how he’s been there for me. When literally no one else has. You know what he’s done for me.” 

“I know that he saved you from your dad-“ 

She reached out to touch you again but this time you didn’t want to hear it, moving to walk away. But Sarah followed. 

“I know that must have been awful for you but you can’t just let him hold that over you,” her voice grew as she chased you, catching the eyes of the group. 

“I don’t let him hold that over me.” You both knew that was a lie. 

“He treats you like shit,” she screamed at you, making you finally turn her way. “He treats everyone terribly but I honestly think he treats you the worst. I don’t get it because you just let him.” 

“You don’t have to understand,” your voice was shaky as you spoke, arms crossing over your chest. “I don’t need you to understand because honestly I don’t understand it myself.” 

“He’s never going to treat you the way you want him to treat you.” Sarah looked at you defeated, arms held up as she backed away. “It’s not in Rafe’s nature to be nice.” 

You couldn’t tell your sister that you didn’t exactly want Rafe to be nice to you. 

In reality you couldn’t care if he was nice to you.

You enjoyed it when he was mean to you, bitter words cutting through you when he wanted to get under your skin. 

And sure if the only way he was going to touch you would be a bruising grip on your wrists or his hand wrapped around your throat, you’d take it. 

But you did also crave for him to be nice to you, sweet like when he soothed your cries with his fingers grazing your back. His voice gentle as he hushed you, lying beside you in his bed. 

You wanted every bit of Rafe you could get, the good and the bad. You wanted all of it for yourself. 

But that wasn’t happening anytime soon, not with his arm draped around some random girl. 

You hadn’t known why you forced yourself to come to this party, the annual bonfire was usually something you attended with Rafe by your side. It was your thing. 

The idea of booze and friendly faces, had been a nice idea earlier this morning. But as you stared around the familiar faces, you felt nothing but dread. 

Dread at the thought that this was how life was going to be. A constant numbness holding your body captive. 

“You want another one?” JJ asked, holding a can out for you. 

“Thanks,” you nodded, taking it from his hands.

“You know you don’t have to stand over here by yourself,” JJ stated, bumping his elbow with yours. “We don’t bite even if Rafe says we do.” 

Your face flushed in embarrassment at that, you didn’t want them to think you thought of them like that. There had been days when you possibly had judged them too harshly, you had never meant to, it was just easier to listen to Rafe then. 

Even though you could tell JJ meant it as a joke, your lips parted instantly wanting to defend yourself.

“It’s not like that,” you tried to reassure him. “I’m just-“ 

“I’m joking with you,” he chuckled lightly. 

Your body relaxed at that and you couldn’t help but smile. 

“You want to talk about what’s got you so down?” He asked, taking space beside you. “Or are you one of those that drinks their problems away.” 

You took another swig from your, answering his questions. 

“I see.” 

“I’m not actually much of a drinker if I’m honest,” you told him. “My- uh-” You weren’t sure why you were saying it but JJ made you feel comfortable, feeling the honesty slip from you. 

“Your dad?” The amused tone had dropped from his voice, smile faded as he took a swig from his beer. “I know the feeling, trust me.” 

“Yeah.” You forget that almost everyone knew about your situation. Rafe’s saviour moment when you were fifteen had been spread across all local newspapers. 

“But you know can’t let trauma hold you back.” He pressed the bottle to his lips with a smirk and a wink in your direction. “When in Rome.” 

You laughed at that, catching you off guard as you responded, “We’re not in rome.” 

“I know.” He shrugged, smiling along with you. 

JJ would be good for you. He seemed sweet and genuine, he understood a lot of the trauma you had gone through. You had heard enough about him through Sarah and Kiara when they were around and if he treated girls anything like how John B treated Sarah, you were sure he would be a catch. 

But as your eyes peered into his and your laughter died down, you could only think of one person. The same person who was burning holes in the back of your skull as you turned to face him. 

Rafe was still standing on his side of the bonfire but the girl that had been all over him before was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t walk over to you, didn’t say anything or motion to follow him but as feet took off, you already found yourself making an excuse. 

“I’m really sorry but I got to run,” you told JJ, trying your best to give him an apologetic glance. 

He nodded, not seeming too disappointed nor surprised at your sudden departure but there was a slight look of confusion on his face. 

You ignored it, not really caring about it as you pushed yourself to your feet. All you could think about was following Rafe’s larger steps, letting him lead you to where all the cars were parked, where no one else would be able to see you. 

His truck was in a secluded area, parked by trees that shadowed it. It wasn’t close to any walkways and it was enclosed by other surrounding cars. 

It didn’t surprise you when you were suddenly slammed to Rafe’s door, a hand wrapping around your throat to keep you held there. He always lurked in the eerie silence, waiting for a moment to pounce Rafe, especially when it came to you. But what had surprised you was how tight his grip was, finding yourself wheezing for air as you looked at him. 

“You like slutting it out for pogues, hmm?” He hissed, leaning into you. 

Even in the darkness you could see how blown out his eyes were, the light shade of blue being overpowered by black. When his grip tightened even more, you actually became frightened, eyes widening at the sight of him. 

“Like opening your legs for trash?” He spat. 

You let out a strangled breath, becoming frantic as you tore at his hand to get off. Normally that was all that it would take but today Rafe wasn’t letting up and your pleas were being ignored. 

“So angry with me that you would debase yourself like that. I mean my friends were one thing.” He shook his head, jaw clenching as tears glazed his eyes. “But fucking JJ Maybank.” 

He dropped you then, letting you collapse to the ground as he took a step away from you. 

You were gasping for breath, hand holding onto your neck in disbelief of what had just happened. 

All of a sudden Sarah’s words rang in your head and you thought maybe you didn’t want to be treated like this anymore. 

“I can’t even look at you right now.” 

Your head twisted around at that, finding Rafe’s pacing form as you said, “You can’t look at me right now?” Tears were streaming down your face as you took a second to get up, staring at him in disbelief. “Are you serious?” 

Rafe turned around, eyes narrowing at you. 

“You’re exactly like him-” 

“Don’t fucking start with that bullshit,” He went to argue, pointing in your face. 

“No, you are,” you laughed, finally realising. “You’re exactly like my dad. Everytime you hurt me you always have a reason to blame me. It’s always my fault.” 

Rafe smirked at that, nodding as if he was in agreement. “Yeah, it’s why you always come running back when I apologise. So eager for more.” 

Your hand connected with his face and you heard it before you felt it. Your hand stung afterwards and when Rafe began to laugh as a reaction, you immediately regretted it. 

“Is it my turn?” He questioned, a smug smirk on his lips. 

“You’re sick.” Tears were streaming down your face, painting your cheeks and chin. Yet he didn’t seem to care one bit. 

He only turned away, stepping round the truck and calling out to you. “Get in.” 

Without hesitation you did. 

(Dividers by @cafekitsune)

[undying-love]

Hi!! Could you make a compilation of all the times their relationship is compared to a marriage (or something similar), either by them or by people close to them?

"Marriage", "love affair", "girlfriend", "wife", etc: A Compilation

“I think it was like he was married to Paul. And now he was married to me so it was like a situation that he didn’t feel like he wanted to go back." (Yoko Ono)

"Why this odd little Japanese lady? The reason, many people believed, was that more than a trophy wife, a model or an actress, John needed a chum. His love affair with Paul McCartney was ending." (Peter Brown)

“That’s very hard to delve into. They were great friends, and had great mutual respect, but they were also quite different from one another. I don’t know. Human relationships are tough to analyze. It’s like trying to talk about someone else’s marriage.” (Peter Asher)

“I still think at the back of John’s mind was this fascination of wanting to get back with the first girlfriend... and that was to get back with Paul, who he had so much history with.” (Tony Barrow)

"It's like a marriage. These two broke up. And it took Paul a long time to get over it. John too, but he was just too macho to show it. But they had a marriage before Yoko arrived, although they both had girlfriends before." (Ray Connolly)

"It [Mick and Keith's relationship] had all the irrationally and passion of a love affair. Lennon and McCartney had a similar bond between them." (Marianne Faithfull)

"Paul and John kind of knew that they were growing apart, and Let It Be was almost like a marriage that’s failing, and they wanna go on their date nights again" (Giles Martin)

"There’s no hard feelings or anything, but you just don’t hang around with your ex-wife. We’ve completely finished." (Paul)

"Then also we were like married, so you got the bitterness. It’s not a woman scorned this time, it’s two men scorned — probably even worse. And I had to make way for Yoko. My relationship with John could not have remained as it was and Yoko feel secure.” (Paul)

"It was as if I was another girlfriend, almost. Our relationship was a strong relationship. And if he was to start a new relationship [with Yoko], he had to put this other one away." (Paul)

"I've compared to a marriage a million times and I hope it's… understandable. For people that aren't married. Or any relationship. It was a LONG relationship." (John)

"With Yoko present, Paul's reign as Lennon's princess was doomed."(Peter McCabe)

"In a marriage, or a love affair...there comes a point where the marriage collapses because they can’t face that reality, and they go seeking what they thought they should be having, still, somewhere else. I get a new girl, it’ll all be like that again; I get a new boy… But for all marriages, all couples, it’ll all be the same again. But what you lose is what you put into that… relationship." (John)

"..an old, estranged fiancée of mine called Paul." (John)

"Paul and John were emotional partners in a powerful, creative and loving way." (Paul Saltzman)

"Julian and Sean had lost a father; Cynthia, her knight in shining armour; Yoko, a fellow artist, contemporary and house husband … and Paul? Well, call me crazy, but he lost the wife. I’m certainly not implying anything of a carnal nature here, but to almost all intents and purposes (as John would have put it), what they had was a marriage.” (Ruth Mccartney)

"When John and Paul split up (think of them as a couple for a moment) their second mates had to stand by them." (Francie Schwartz)

"For a reason to hold a grudge [against Yoko], think about the possibility of this: She took John from him. And she didn't particularly want to share John with his "ex significant other" on certain levels." (Francie Schwartz)

[cheerysmores]

Over the knife’s edge

A birthday gift for the wonderful @callmethebrightness

I had a lot of thoughts about Lucanis’ romance scene and Spite biting people.

Pairing: Lucanis x Female Crow Rook

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word count: 2.5K

AO3 link

***

The light above Rook’s room is glowing. Lucanis stares at it, almost waiting for it to flicker off in some cruel realisation that her return was just the last thread of his sanity finally snapping. For weeks it watched him with a solitary eye, the ever-present reminder that the beating heart of the lighthouse had slipped through their fingers when it mattered most. His fingers.

Three attempts to kill Ghilan'nain. A real God-killer would have done it in one.

Even with the blighted blood washed from his hands, the thought refuses to quieten. It curls behind each breath, taunting worse than any demon could.

You promised to keep her safe.

A sharp jab to his side pulls him from his reverie. Spite glowers at him, the shadow of his visage shaking with impatience.

“Alright, alright I’m going,” Lucanis says, turning away from him.

The bruises from Spite’s frustration are still sore. He’d been relentless when they returned without her, nothing but an angry tide of insults and teeth. For days he’d tried to slam himself through the pantry walls before turning his ire to Lucanis, biting the same phrase into his skin again and again until it stung.

“Bring. Rook. Back.”

One time he’d jerked awake to Neve yanking him back from the edge of the lighthouse courtyard, one foot dangling into the ever-twilight sky. Spite’s idea of searching. That same sky is angry now, ragged as a wound through the open window. There’s no running from the fact there’s still another God to kill. But for now, that can wait.

The hesitation in his walk is new, like so many things with her. Every step is measured, teetering on the knife edge of a boundary he’s more than ready to break. Before, she’d always come to him. He can’t pinpoint the exact moment it became routine to have an extra coffee cup waiting by his bed, nor when he started judging each blend by the fragrance as it brewed and then the taste of it on her mouth. Even then it was hard to draw his eyes from Spite smirking behind her, just waiting for his control to dissolve under her wandering touch. Better his space got ruined by one of his tantrums than hers.

It’s still strange to think how that might not be a problem anymore.

Her room is messier than he expected. Pieces of her armour are strewn about, the cape screwed into a bundle on the table. He’s greeted by her legs hanging off the edge of the sofa, one boot still half laced on her foot.

“I cannot believe we found you.”

She lifts herself up at his words. Her dark hair is a mess, exhaustion painted purple and black under her eyes. It’s the kind he’s all too familiar with, something all but burned into your bones and seeping lead into every muscle.

“I’m a little surprised too actually,” she says softly.

He takes another step forward. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Oh come on, we both know you couldn’t get rid of me that easily.” The smile she offers almost feels real as he kneels before her. It’s just a little too taut, something practised and pointy stretched over the real thing.

“Rook,” he presses a kiss to the edge of her mouth. “You’re impossible.”

She raises an eyebrow. “In a good way?”

“It’s what I love about you.”

“Lucanis–” She looks down, running her thumb across the wrinkle in her brow like she could pull the thought out if she rubbed hard enough. “Just… tell me this is real. I saw things before, things I was so sure were there–” she trails off, eyes closing. “How do I know this isn’t more of the fade?”

He squeezes her hand. “You’re here,” he whispers, perhaps more of an affirmation to himself than to her. “You’re really here.”

“Promise?”

He brushes her knuckles, then her arm, slowly relearning that soft path until his palm cups her cheek. “Real.”

So many ways he thought of tearing apart the seams of fade to find her, each one more ridiculous than the last. The magic the elven Gods used to hurt them is something he still knows so little of but this, now, this he can do.

They both fall against the sofa in a tangle of lips and gasps. Her hands slide up his back, the press of each finger a gentle anchor through his shirt. He takes a moment, makes a memory of the feeling. It’s still new. After a year of being caged and broken, the essence of spite itself forced down his throat and unwillingly grafted onto his soul, even a kind touch burned more than poison under his skin.

She arches under him, tugging his hair just hard enough for his control to falter and Spite to push to the surface. He feels the demon still, his wings bursting from his back and blanketing them both under their slightly glowing canopy. His lips move slowly, the voice that scratches through surprisingly quiet.

“Safe. Here.”

She touches the side of his face, her eyes softening. “Miss me?”

Spite’s gaze wracks over her body. He feels him press against her, one hand tangling in the messy curls splayed around her face and lifting them to his nose.

“Smells like–”

Lucanis quickly heaves himself back. If anyone is going to touch her tonight it’s damn well going to be him. The demon crouches next to them, eyes still fixed on Rook as he quietly finishes.

“ – home.”

She chuckles, brushing her fingers through the fading purple feathers. “So… is Spite going to join us? I’m not against it per se but we may have to set some ground rules.”

Lucanis exhales. “After our alliance, we managed to come to somewhat of an understanding about personal space.” He flicks his gaze to Spite. “Right?”

The demon grumbles, but his presence evaporates from view– the illusion of true privacy. He knows Spite will never truly go, not while he still draws breath, but the weight of his malice can lessen. Even hidden Lucanis feels him tugging and moving like his hand is tied to the edge of some infinite kite string in a storm.

She kisses him again, slower. “The First Talon and the disgraced Crow. People are going to talk, you know.”

“Don’t say that. Gossip amongst the Talon houses is already unbearable.” He drops his face to her neck, trying to push the image of Viago’s judgmental stare from his mind.

“Finding out secrets? Using them to our advantage? It’s almost like that’s what we’re trained to do.”

“True. But perhaps we could leave the titles at the door. Just for now.”

She strokes his ear, her voice dropping to a gentler whisper. “Then use my name. My real name.”

He slowly lifts his head. He’d heard it but once, a wine-blushed whisper against his shoulder as steaming vegetables filled the kitchen with balmy warmth. He watched her doze at the table for a while that night, turning the syllables over and over like fruit so sweet on the tongue.

“Incoronata,” he says.

The same blush floods her cheeks. She pulls his face to hers, sighing as he murmurs it again. “Say it as many times as you want.”

And so, he does. He shifts over her, pressing the name into her mouth, the tip of her ear, the flood of colour spilling onto her collarbones. His fingers pluck at her top button, but she’s faster, tugging the first few open so he can better taste that delicate ridge. He tries not to dwell on how it’s not the first time, not for his body anyway.

One night he’d closed his eyes for a second too long and then woken a foot in the air, his arms crushed to the sides of his body by Taash’s iron grip. It took a moment to register the Eluvian glowing in front of him and Rook’s hand cupped to the side of her neck.

“Spite. No. We don’t bite people. Understand?” Taash’s firm voice came from behind.

He felt himself die a little at the words, but she’d just calmly said to let him down and walked off. Spite’s tantrum afterwards had not been any better to deal with.

“You promised. You promised we’d leave.” Sharp angry hands scrabbled at his side as the demon whined and growled around him. He kept his eyes forward, letting the exhaustion burn them dry until the pantry walls blurred into the cold recesses of the Ossuary again.

“You want to know. What she tasted like.”

The vacant stretch of his eyes brightened with glee when Lucanis finally looked at him. He folded his arms, sitting down and pressing a finger to his lips.

“I’m not telling.”

He opens his mouth, lightly running his tongue over the same spot like he could soothe the wound these weeks later. There’s musk from her leather, salt from sweat, rosemary from somewhere else. The combination sets his palette alight. He fights the urge to bite down, to make a home against the canvas of her skin as a reminder for both of them. No Gods, no empires crumbling, just the two of them together for as long as this stretch of time will allow.

She rolls them over and sits back against his thighs. Her eyes are as black as her hair as she tugs her shirt over her head and presses his hands to her bare stomach. His throat goes dry. He caresses the skin around her thin undershirt, mapping the scars blooming like roots over her chest and arms. Some are old, some raised. It’s understandable for the life of an assassin, each mark adding to the tapestry of their success.

She puts her hand over his. “What are you thinking about?”

He hums, not quite sure how to pull his thoughts into coherent words. He wants her, this, everything and he barely understands what that means. Weeks he spent pushing away that desire, ignoring Spite’s cutting teases, terrified of what might happen if he let himself go and… now he can. The possibilities overwhelm and he doesn’t know where to begin. Give him a knife and he’ll finish a job without staining his gloves. Put Rook in his hands and suddenly he’s hesitating like a fledgling. Illario’s gift for flirting was the one talent he found himself growing jealous of. It was innate as breathing to his cousin, such perfumed charm exuding more peacock than crow as he circled around bars and markets– sometimes on the job as well.

‘Softer hearts are easier to stab,’ Illario had once said, the smear of a dead woman’s lipstick still on his collar.

Now he wishes he’d paid slightly closer attention.

He kisses the side of her mouth again. “Tell me what you want. Anything.”

“Anything?”

“For you? Yes.”

Her cheeks darken.“You know, I’ve had a while to think about that. Long nights here, longer ones in the fade–” she pulls off the undershirt so the gentle glow of the fish tank caresses over her chest. She grabs his hands before he can hesitate, guiding them over the planes of muscle and cupping them to her breasts. She shivers as he strokes her nipple. “ – so, let me show you exactly what I want.”

There’s nothing coy about her movements anymore. She’s firm, almost desperate as she tugs at his shirt, her lips following the trail of freshly bared skin. Something sharper than any dagger glints in her gaze as she strips them bare, her fingers leaving trails of fire over his chest. He leans back, releasing every trained reflex and letting himself fall into her: the plush of her lips on his navel, her hands as they slide up his legs and finally finally touch him. A slew of quiet curses drip over her skin as she strokes him, her free hand cradling the side of his face. It’s a different kind of control entirely to hold himself back from the edge, then another to move away, pushing them further up the sofa so he can work his hand between her thighs. She’s slick against his fingers, her breaths stuttered and hot as he finds the rhythm that makes her eyes flutter.

Her fingernails dig in as he tries to move into a more comfortable position.

“Please. Don’t go.” It’s a patch of softness amongst thorns. To the world, she’s steel and precision. Even as they ripped her from the fade she’d stood tall, granite in her eyes and a plan forming on her lips. But now, for him, she’s finally let go.

Her cry is a strangled thing in her throat as his forefinger leaves her clit.

“Never,” he whispers. He swears against her mouth, her stomach, each thigh, her eyes hooked on his as his tongue takes over the work of his hand.

It feels like hours before they finally find their voices again.

She cries his name when she finally sheaths herself in his lap, then again as he starts to move. His mind spins out into the dark, no thought clinging except the one wish that they had more space than this damn sofa. Her nipple shines from his mouth, her hips blooming with bruises in the shape of his fingers. He sits back desperate to remember it all, wondering how it's possible to mourn a moment as it happens, knowing a memory could never do it justice.

He watches, rapt, as her fingers leave his shoulder and rub her clit. Pleasure peels off her in waves, her movements growing with fervour until it’s impossible to imagine how such an untamed Crow could have ever been caged.

After, they talk. She traces the slope of his back as he lies on her chest, fighting sleep with every fibre of strength not lost to this room. They speak of Treviso, of returning to the Crows, of helping Minrathos recover, everything except what tomorrow might bring.

I love you.

He can feel the words on his tongue, perhaps the truest thing he’s ever felt. He swallows them back for now, watching Spite as he sits across from them, eyes fixed to Rook’s bare calf. They’re words for later, when the next crucial moment has come his way and he didn’t miss his mark.

It’s equal parts sweet and bitter, a hope close enough to taste and still just beyond his reach.

He closes his eyes, letting Spite sit him up as he falls into other dreams.

It doesn’t hurt when her hands are still in his hair. And for now, that’s enough.

Read on AO3

[and-so-he-rambled]

Costume

(Gotham Rogue Vlad Masters)

Masterlist

“You’re going to fight Batman?” Daniel’s curious eyes peeked over the table, watching Vlad feed material into the sewing machine.

“Not exactly, I’m planning to avoid him as much as possible, but I’m sure we will cross paths.”

“Are you going to fight him with your superpowers?”

“No, remember how no one can find out we’re special? Not even Batman, he’d turn us in to the bad men.”

“Oh.” Daniel continued to watch him as he cut and arranged black material. He’d gone light on any body armour since he didn’t need it and needed the extra movement. He did have some for appearances and in case his powers still were on the fritz by the time he went out. He was getting better with time, but it wasn’t perfect.

“You should be a Badger.”

Vlad paused, looking at the child.

“Pardon?”

“A badger! Wait here!” The boy ran off, leaving Vlad staring after him.

He returned with his animal encyclopedia, plopping in on the table and pointing to a honey badger.

“You call me little badger and so Jazz showed me, I’m this one.” He pointed to the badger on the next page, a European badger. “But these ones are called Honey Badgers and they’re really cool and mean, and you should be one like Catwoman is a cat.”

Vlad thought that over. It did seem on brand for a Gotham rogue to have a theme, and while he was only planning on petty thievery it couldn’t hurt. He had gone more for the vampire look once his fangs had grown in but a badger was different enough that nobody would connect the two identities.

“I’m not calling myself Badgerman.” Daniel giggled at that, delighted. “Perhaps you’re on to something though.”

“Would you help me pick a design? I just can’t choose myself.”

Daniel’s eyes lit up in joy as he ran away to go find his drawing pad.

Jazz and Daniel worked together for the next few hours, his sister keeping him from making it too complicated. They ended up with a catsuit with a gray stripe down the back with lots of secret pockets and zippers. The mask he had to make a few alterations on, but it had a more American badger design with white down the center of the face and up the cheeks, leaving two stripes of black over his eyes. Jazz vetoed the full cape, with both Vlad and Danny complained about, but he managed to sell her on the shoulder cape.

“I can’t believe I’m going to become a two bit criminal for a giant bat.” Vlad murmered at he started in on his sixth hour of costume creation. He’d cheated with being able to change his ghost clothing at will after a few years of trial and error, this was hard. “I was supposed to be a scientist.”

Jazz was face down on the table, but she raised an arm to synthetically pat at him.

“Th’ goal is t’ avoid th’ bat.” She reminded him sleepily before falling back alseep. He took a break to bring her to bed.

The first goal when they got a payout was to get an apartment with their new identities. As much as he wanted them to stay ghosts it wasn’t feasible for the kids. They needed lives, to be children. Daniel was getting better control of his powers with daily training and eventually he might be able to go to school.

Vlad knew they couldn’t stay in Gotham forever, that once day the government would catch up to them and they’d have to disappear again, he was pretty Jazz knew it too. He needed to give them something before that happened. This time he’d spread the money into off shore accounts, they’d never be left with nothing again.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Oct 6th

~*~

1. Hello. I’m hoping you can help me find a fic. In it Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are poisoned at Jinlintai and fake their deaths. Their bodies are brought back to the ancestral hall at cloud recesses and they escape and live away from the cultivation world for many years. Theres two parts and in the second part the sect leaders come to their mountain thinking immortals live there and asking for help dealing with problems they can’t solve. (Ie The Lan sect is dealing with resentful ghost). Thanks!! @vegdawn

FOUND? To live with no regrets Series by Lyna_Mei (E, 96k, WIP, WangXian, Fix-It of Sorts, Canon Divergence, Angst, Self-Esteem Issues, Golden Core Reveal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Developing Relationship, non-consensual marriage, CQL-Verse, Case Fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Cultivation Sect Politics, Cultivation World Critical, Not JGY Friendly, Family Feels, Found Family, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian)

~*~

2. hi this is for the fic finder! i’m looking for a fic i read which i’m pretty sure is completed. it should be wangxian, modern au, and i think wwx was living alone (maybe estranged from the jiangs?) and i think mo xuanyu and xue yang were kid brothers who lived in his building that came to hang out with him sometimes? and he was sorta like a big brother to them? this wasn’t a major plot point but it was definitely there. and a-yuan may or may not have been there, either living with wwx or the wens in the same building. does anyone know what this is?

FOUND? Visitations by Vir_Abelasan (M, 18k, WIP, WangXian, past XiYao, Modern AU, Corporate Espionage, Post-Divorce, Reconciliation, Father-Son Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Custody Arrangements, Not a revenge fic, Past Abuse)

~*~

3. Looking for a highly specific fic where WWX is forced to wear scantily clad armour that only covers his nipples and man-bits as a punishment by Madam Yu. Wangxian encounter each other in a night-hunt sort of thing, but its not set in the jianghu but an AU where its more fantasy magic with warlocks, that sort of thing? There is a specific scene where WWX has to go change the armor and it hurts alot and makes LWJ very sad and angry at madam yu?? GOSH HELP its been stuck in my head foreverr thank u

FOUND? 🔒 His Knight in Shining Armour by celerydragon (E, 23k, WangXian, dead dove do not eat, Curses, Sexual Abuse, Child Abuse, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Slut Shaming, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, yu furen sucks, protective lwj, Hurt/Comfort, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, mild dirty talk, Biting, Outdoor Sex)

~*~

4. Hello, I am looking for an AO3 Fix it Fic where all the sects bring gifts to the Burial Mounds to compete showing who is the most generous. @hopefulbeardface-blog

FOUND? The Untamed: A Dinner to Remember by YenGirl (Not Rated, 33k, WangXian, XuanLi, post sunshot, Indulgent Fic, Feed WY & the Wen survivors, Some angst, Some humour, Dinner is about family and love, Some Fluff, Soft Boys, Manly Tears, JGS is still greedy, Possible OOC-ness, No hundred holes curse, Unreliable Narrator, accidental heroes, Some violence and gore in Chap 9, Redeemed JGY, Redeemed SS)

~*~

5. HI!!!this is for a fic finder, it had madam yu as a super toxic parent idrm bt maybe she was also abusive, she sends wwx to this school owned by the lans and i think theres 2 divisions, 1 for the smart kids and one for the delinquents

the school is super weird and strict , lqr is especially mean to wwx and all the staff is aswell and they do horrible things to him and in the end i think lxc exposes his uncles school?? wwx and lzh get tg to.

Thankyou!! @jnxi839

~*~

6. Hi! For FicFinder

The fic I'm looking for is canon divergence, I believe. I can't remember if it had time travel or not, but Wei Ying left the Jangs before the war. I think there was focus on his inventions. The only clear details I can remember are the Jins giving him multiple chests full of gold, and them sending him someone to his rooms in the night. The person gets caught in an array at the door. Also, there were two Lans assigned to help Wei Ying. Thanks in advance! @rens-shadow

FOUND? Just go forward like you mean it by tawaen (M, 101k, WangXian, WWX & WN &WQ, WWX & JYL, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, WWx does not attend the Wen indoctrination, WWX saves Lotus Pier, Inventor WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, Sect Leader JYL, JC Has No Golden Core, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Not JC Friendly, but he gets a happier ending than canon so don’t look here for bashing)

~*~

7. Fic finder please!🙏

A wlw wangxian where LWJ was self conscious about her body bc LQR wasn’t really helpful when she was going through puberty and bought her too small bras and stuff and then she meets wwx, much later on who encourages her to wear what she likes and love her body. There’s a scene with them on the couch cuddling and idk how it ends bc ao3 went down and I lost my tab!! 😭😭😭

FOUND? your lips, my lips, apocalypse by lily_winterwood (E, 12k, WangXian, Modern, Fashion & Models, College/University, Lingerie, Burlesque, Rule 63, partial genderswap, Not Everyone is Cisswapped, Nonbinary Character, Trans Male Character, Female LWJ, Female WWX, Trans LXC, References to conservative Chinese family values, Mild Transphobia, Body Dysphoria, Self-Esteem Issues, Brief reference to eating disorders, Sexism, Pining, Filial Piety, Masturbation, Cunnilingus, Gender Changes)

~*~

8. fic finder help! there is a modern fic where lan zhan and Wei ying are best friends and the fic starts off with Wei ying asking lan zhan to call off work to play hooky for the day. eventually we find out Wei ying quit his job (he's working with the jiangs). it was part of a series I think. @the-marathon-continues-nip

FOUND! in good time by magicianprince (T, 11k, WangXian, Slice of Life, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Modern AU, modern with cultivation (pretty background tho), lwj has a cat, and some unresolved feelings! oh boy, "in good time" by magicianprince [Podfic] by The_Grynne)

~*~

9. Looking for a fic where lan xichen and possibly lan qiren? go into a meeting with the elders, who have been giving Wei wuxian a hard time, and they hand out lists of rules that the elders have each individually have broken @lonelyreverances-corner

~*~

10. hi i have a request: i want to find fanfic which included older lan wangji (i think he was older by 7 years) who meets wei wuxian in yiling and it is their first meeting. he and lan xichen are twins and it is mostly focused on lwj visiting burial mounds and wy and lz have a sex not long after they meet first time. i think it counted from 20 to 30 (or 35) chapters and it also had 18+ fanarts

FOUND? Awaiting Your Return by Karmiya (E, 126k, WangXian, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, the opposite of slow burn, Found Family, Canon Divergence, Age Difference, discussions of wwx's canonical abusive childhood)

~*~

11. Hi! I'm looking for a fic (I think it may be a series of fics) where Wei Wuxian was accused of spying on Lan Corp. I think this is one where Lan Wangji believes in him the entire time and leaves his family over the accusations. I don't remember if he served any time or not, but the truth comes out that he was innocent (thanks in part to NHS). WWX and LWJ live with Wens, started a company with them, and live in the same building with them.

FOUND?🔒 moonlight falls Series by RoseThorne (T, 19k, WangXian, Modern, Found Family, Corporate Espionage, Bunnies, Adoption, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, References to Depression, Anxiety, Blind Character, POV Third Person, POV WWX, Confrontations, Bad Parent LQR, Dissociation, Mental Health Issues, Anniversary, Food, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Emotional Constipation, Communication Failure, JC is Bad at Feelings, JC is Trying, WWX Needs a Hug, Implied/Referenced Sex, Food Sex, Friendship, Reconciliation, Psychological Trauma)

~*~

12. hi! i am looking for a fic that is a juniors time-travel fix it. i know they go back in time to right before jin zixuan gets killed and save him, the juniors reveal that wangxian are married in the future, and then also there is a scene where jin zixuan and jiang yanli tell older jin ling that he is their son, too, even though baby jin ling is there. thank you so much! @whenstarsignite

FOUND! ❤️ Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, wangxian, Time Travel, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence from Qiongqi Pass, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Yunmeng sibling bonding, good dad wwx, good dad lwj, JZX Lives, JYL Lives, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

NOT FOUND! Time, Time, Time by skeletonofaplant (G, 44k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, LSZ & WWX, JYL & JL & JZX, LJY & LSZ, Time Travel Fix-It, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Angst, Fluff, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Time Travelling Junior Ensemble, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, Humor)

~*~

13. Hi! I'm looking for two fics. I think I initially saw B on this page, but I can't find it anywhere

A) A meteor crashed near college student WWX’s house, where he finds a shape-shifting bunny/toddler alien A-Yuan. LWJ is also a different kind of alien.

B) I think it takes place in a camp after defeating the Wen. JGY spikes the Lan's tea with alcohol. LWJ and WWX spend the night together, but by morning the Jiang siblings think it was noncon. Eventually JGY confesses that it was JGS's idea to serve alcohol.

13A)

FOUND! Lost and Found by diamondbruise (E, 52k, WangXian, Modern AU, Aliens, Slow Burn, Alien LWJ, Crack Treated Seriously, Soulmates, Kid Fic…..kind of, i use that tag very loosely, Masturbation, Rough Sex, canon typical cnc elements, Happy Ending)

13B)

FOUND! The Teapot Plot by ToxicAngel13 (M, 52k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, Misunderstandings, Plots, protective Jiang siblings, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Idiots in Love, Damn Jins, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Pre-Burial Mounds, Potential for M-Preg, Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Idiots Everywhere, LWJ ’s Biting Kink, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Protective LWJ, Protective WQ, JGS is his own warning, Protective JYL)

~*~

14. hiya! for the fic finder, i'm struggling to find a fic i read a few months ago - not sure if it's been deleted or not. i am fairly certain it was an a/b/o au where wwx was carrying lwj's kid by the time he ended up in the burial mounds and basically he kept control of the spirits by asking the female ghosts to help him protect him unborn baby. wen qing also refused to take his golden core because of the baby and jiang cheng ended up with wen ning's core instead going into the sunshot campaign. the wen siblings and the wen remnants live in this au and help wwx raise his daughter after she's born. somewhere along the way wwx tells his siblings and lwj about his daughter too.

second fic i've been looking for, but not as much of a priority to me as the first one, all i remember about this one was lwj found out about wwx giving up his core almost immediately after it happened and wwx lets lwj help him sooner. one scene i remember was wwx and jiang cheng were arguing and jiang cheng uses zidian on wwx and mortally wounds him and stops wwx heart (i think?)

thank you for your help in advance! <3

14A)

FOUND! 🧡 Don’t Wanna Fall by nekojita (M, 111k, WangXian, Mpreg, A/B/O, Fix-it, Lots of pining, Angst with a happy ending, Canon Divergence, Child thief WN)

14B)

FOUND! these colours fade for you only by doodlebutt (T, 36k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everybody Lives, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, …eventually, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Sunshot Campaign)

~*~

15. Hi! This is for fic finder. There are 2 fic that i want to read

A) It short fic. JYL and WWX likes to play the "xianxian is 3 years old". I dont remember how but NMJ knows and ask to join with NHS. JYL give them permission, thinking it was like a play between her and WWX. Then they (JYL and WWX) found out it was different. Between JYL and WWX is like a play pretend but between NMJ and NHS is different in a way that NHS transform into a 3 years old child

B) The story is between yunmeng trio and nie sibs. JGY wants to make the nies and jiangs enemy. He then found out that NHS didnt have a single blood of nie. In the discussion conference, he invite nhs blood aunt that thinking nhs deserve better than become the second young master of the nie and revealed that nhs is jfm child not the former nie's sect leader. I only remember that

Thanks

15A)

FOUND? Little by nirejseki (T, 3k, NHS & JC & WWX & NMJ, Age Regression/De-Aging, Non-Sexual Age Play, Misunderstandings)

~*~

16. I'm hoping you guys can help me find a fic I vaguely remember. It was fox!wwx and I think he was in an arranged marriage to lwj, but before he left he cut off a tail and left it as a present for JC to find (I think) when he got back to Lotus Pier.

I think I've read #16, was the Jiangs doing a silk/cloth dyeing business and JYL was super sick, and Wei ying was conscripted to be part of the search for a mate for prince ? I'll try to find it if it is

FOUND! #16 reminds me of the deleted "Bleeding Bones, Aching Hearts " by scarletmoontears. Do you remember if Wei Ying was a war general of Yunmeng Jiang and was sent as a warprize to the Lans?

~*~

17. Hi!! I'm looking for a fic. This is a Modern AU where WWX fakes his death (I think because of Madam Yu) and LWJ sends him voice and text messages during his grieving process. Everything changes when WWX accidentally answers one of those messages and LWJ finds out he's not dead. I don't recall more. Thank you so much for your help!! @fantasiacoral-blog

FOUND? Love Don’t Belong To Me by airinshaw (E, 28k, WangXian, Modern, Getting Together, Kissing, Intercrural Sex, Light Angst, Happy Ending, PTSD, Panic Attack, WWX’s canonical self-esteem issues, Canonical Child Abuse, not as dark as the tags imply, Past Relationships mention)

~*~

18. Hello! This if for a fic finder

A) mo xuanyu is a ghost that stays with wwx i think he and wwx can both be concious in the body? Idrm much but it was wwx/mxy/lwj

B) this was a modern au lan jingyi came out to his parents or something like that and they gor abusive , jiangcheng ends up adopting jingyi or smth like that they tale him to a doctor too I remember jiangcheng and lan xichen were dating

18A)

FOUND? Serrated by InkSplatterM and MrMissMrsRandom (E, 194k, WangXianYu, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Gore, Past Abuse, Canon Divergence, MXY Lives, spirit possession, 2/3 men are virgin idiots, WWX is an emotional dunce, MXY is gay and tired, LWJ finds his heart is very large, Discussions of Suicide, Suicide Attempt, victim self-blame, Panic Attacks, mentions of past sexual abuse, PTSD, Past Rape/Non-con, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Outdoor Sex, Exhibitionism, light cum play, Praise Kink, gentle dirty talk, D/s elements, Under-negotiated Kink, Dom MXY, Sub LWJ)

~*~

19. Hello! I'm looking for a modern au fic wherein i think lwj and wwx are roommates. wwx is writing a paper on the effect of spanking on children and asks lwj to spank him to experience it firsthand. i think there's a couple of instances where wwx forgets to clear out the sink and stuff and gets spanked for it and then gets aftercare??? i think there's some dialogue that goes like "my hand. no french. over the couch" idk?? I cannot seem to find it

FOUND! "The Efficacy of Spanking on Behavioural Change" by redscudery (E, 15k, WangXian, SL/WWX, Platonic BDSM, Oblivious WWX, Spanking, we all know this is not platonic, With One Exception, Bisexual Disaster WWX, Light Dom/sub, not a single brain cell was consulted, Boys Kissing, Boys In Love, Getting Together, First Time, Lube Shenanigans, mild alcohol and marijuana use, Non-graphic vomiting, big bisexual awakenings r us, Love Confessions, Modern, Canada)

~*~

20. Hi I would like to ask if you know the title of the story in ao3 that I read back then. It’s like burial mound setting, they made a village inside the Burial Mounds but it’s hidden in the rock and no one can enter but then they invited Lan Xichen in their home. Thank you have a nice day ahead!

~*~

[bullet-prooflove]

Nashville: Mitch Keller x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @dolphs-darling @watermeezer @queenslandlover-93 @redpool

“Baby, I think you were made for me.” Mitch tells you after your first night together.

You’re still tangled up in his sheets, hair falling over your face in loose waves. His thumb chases over the apple of your cheek as he gives you that smile, the one that reminds you of the sun after a long bout of rain.

You can’t remember the last time a man touched you with such reverence, that you were looked at like you were more than just rhinestones and a pretty face.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You say as you slip out of his sheets.

You look gorgeous in the late morning sunshine, it filters through the slats of the blinds in his motel room illuminating your skin.

“No honey.” He murmurs, propping his head up on the pillow. “Just you.”

You don’t believe him, he can tell by the fact you’re already getting pulling on those yellow lace panties. You’re a beautiful girl, he’s sure you’ve been told that your entire life. You wear it like armour. He’d got a peek underneath all of that last night and he liked what he saw. A fierce headstrong girl that fought her way out of the trailer park. A phenomenal singer and guitar player. He’d woken up after that first roll in the hay to you playing Lady May on his guitar and your voice, it was the sweetest goddamn sound on this earth.

“You ever think about heading to Nashville?” He asks you and you pause half way through clipping that bra back in place.

“You think I’m that good?”

It’s the earnestness in your voice wounds him. He realises in that moment that no one has ever given a shit about you beyond what you look like, no one has actually bothered to get to know you.

“Honey.” He says with a seriousness that leaves no room for mistake. “I think you’d blow those motherfuckers away.”

“Nobody’s ever…” You trail off but Mitch knows what you’re trying to say.

Noone has ever really appreciated a woman like you.

“I’m taking a trip to Nashville next week for the rodeo.” He tells you as he watches you shrug into your denim shirt. “There’s a couple of places I gig at when I’m there, I can get you a slot in a few of them if it’s something you’re interested in.”

“Why?” You say fastening the buttons of your shirt. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I think you owe it to yourself to give it a shot.” He tells you frankly.

You’re getting married in a couple of months, to the most boring man in the fucking universe and Mitch knows, that a man like that, he wants his woman barefoot in the kitchen, he doesn’t want her to shine the way that you do.

“I can book us different rooms if that’s what you want, it doesn’t matter as long as I can hear you sing again.” Mitch tells you as he props himself up against the headboard, reaching for the cigarettes on the night stand. He lights one up before blowing out a stream of smoke into the air.

“One room.” You say finally as you come to sit alongside him. He hands you the cigarette and you take a long pull before your head comes to rest upon his shoulder. “If I go with you to Nashville, I want you to book one room.”

Love Mitch? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[vimse]

Ah wow it’s almost 2025, which means it’s time for the yearly art recap. Time flies when you’re struggling through your thesis, but I’m very pleased to scrounge up at least one Tech drawing per month. I’ll do a (not so) short reflection about my 2024 art under the cut if you’re interested, but for now, I’d like to express my greatest gratitude for everybody who has stuck around and shared my art. Hoping that 2025 will be a more productive art year. Byeee 🧡

Tl;dr under the cut: ramblings about my struggle in school, 2024 highlights, hopes and dreams next year

—

Let’s look back at last year’s summary:

What's next in 2024?

More Tech. Some things I'd like to explore in 2024 is character drawings beyond portraits, anatomy, simple backgrounds, OCs, storytelling through short comics, TBB band au, and maybe some commission work

Well, safe to say I didn’t get too much of that done haha. The reason for that is I’ve been really struggling with my undergraduate thesis work in chemistry. I don’t really know the root cause of it, but I just can’t bring myself to finish it and I’ve been procrastinating badly, so much that I’ve missed two presentation opportunities. The third opportunity is within 2 weeks and I’m nowhere finished or ready. It has been a constant source of stress and anxiety throughout 2024. I got burned out by the end of May and went to the school counsel to hand in my resignation notice, but got convinced to stick around but to finish it at a later date, because this is literally the last thing to do before I get my degree. Then afterwards I decided to go back to my old job full time, which has been very tiring and took a long time to adjust to. This is very obviously reflected in the amount of full illustration produced during July to October, especially September when I couldn’t bring myself to draw anything beyond Tech’s hand lol.

If I don’t finish my thesis in time for this round, I think I’ll finally throw in the towel for real. Maybe I’ve doomed my future or something but…this experience has made me feel incredibly (and constantly) bad for a whole year, and it has affected every aspect of my life. I’m very tired of it. And although my current job is very tiresome and probably detrimental to my health, it pays well and the colleagues are wonderful. Additionally, it is a niche job that I have years of experience in, with good connections, so I’m not currently worrying about my future job at all. And it’s still within the chemistry industry, so all the time I spent in school isn’t going to waste. In regard to my future, I’m more worried about wasting all of it on a conventional 7-16 job, of which I don’t think a degree in analytical chemistry would help me avoid anyways.

Okay, I’ve rambled enough. If you’re still here, thank you. Now, let’s look back to some positive highlights in my art year of 2024:

I think I’ve finally reached the point where I’m content with how I draw Tech. As evident by the picture above, it’s sort of consistent too, which is a bonus.

I joined my first zine!! It’s the Pabu Days zine and I can’t wait for everyone to get their copy of it. Everybody’s pieces are amazing. I wish I did better/more, but the creation period was during the worst time of my year, mental health-wise, and I have to accept that it was the best I could do at the time.

As for the “masterpiece” of 2024, my most proudest work is the CX-Tech piece I did during the height of TBB season 3. I’m incredibly happy with how the rim lights turned out and the overall mood of it. Also the texture on the armour turned out sooo good, I can’t believe I was the one who painted it lol. I wish I could personally show the picture from my monitor, because all the details seem to disappear when viewed on tumblr. Below is the illustration I’m talking about, along with a side by side comparison to the picture I referenced the lighting from + some closeups. Looking back at it now, I wish I added a stronger frontal light source, so that the picture isn’t so dark.

Also, extra shout out to the back study series. I am traditionally not a painter (just grew up as an anime weeb) so making these this was an incredible accomplishment.

With that, I’m wrapping this very long post (sorry) with some 2025 hopes and dreams. Basically it’s the same things I wanted to do in 2024: improve anatomy, more background, work on OC, work on AUs. I want to try very hard to make commissions happen next year, if people are still interested. Something else I want to do that isn’t strictly art related is to connect more with people, especially with those who are still hyperfixated on TBB as I am. I find it hard to socialise on tumblr, but I try to be more social on bluesky. Idk, I think it would be fun to find a small active community that is maybe more focused on clones and oc stuff.

Okay, that’s all! If you’ve made it this far, thank you thank you thank you. Have a happy holiday and may your 2025 be a wonderful, wonderful year.

🧡 vimse

[what-aboutno]

An analysis on c!Owen and his behaviour throughout the Outsiders SMP series!

Some disclaimers before I go into this. There will be spoilers up ahead! I would like to warn anyone reading that this post will mention some blacklisted members from the smp because their characters play a role in showing us about cOwen.

For convenience, all the members mentioned are the characters, not the actual ccs themself. Some of this might seem all over the place, but when the characters learn random parts of themselves at different points it's bound to happen.

Owen has changed a lot as the series has progressed and many find his personality to have changed entirely towards the end, however, this isn’t really the case. When we go over his character, we can see his core values have stuck with him throughout the series, so in this post, I will go over how exactly he has changed over time and his character in general.

To make it easier, I’m gonna split it into 3 parts. Early maze days, the introduction of clearing 2, and post memories.

During the early maze days Owen establishes his character very early on. Right from the beginning, Owen arrives with the demon Rasbi. They are notably one of the three pairs that come up, with most coming up the elevator alone. The first time we see him, Owen immediately takes up a role as a protector, asking if Rasbi knows how to fight in case there is danger up ahead.

In this first section, we can also see that he acts a lot more childish and naive. He’s very emotional and easily upset by his past. He can be seen jumping on rocks with Mohwee and the others and crying on his first night over his loss of memories. The overwhelmingness of the clearing gets to him. This isn’t to say he is some weak, stupid or soft character though. 

Owen may be naive in believing things should be played in certain ways according to his rules but there are many instances where we can see he’s not stupid. First episode he can immediately recognise what knife Oeca is holding “Hey that’s a throwing knife right? No that’s a dagger” 

After getting more settled in the maze he asks about the maze’s agriculture, he mentions everyone is unarmed despite fearing the dangers in the maze. He starts asking about protection, armour, shields and notably, “So this place is safe on the inside? It's safe to walk at night?” He’s already worried for everyone’s safety here, he knows the maze is dangerous so is there anywhere that’s safe? 

Very early on his past also becomes a very important aspect of his personality. He is probably one of the first to remember anything significant about his past. By episode 2 he is getting flashbacks about how to make a bow. But he makes a javelin first, noting “I think I was a hunter. No, I was an archer. I was a hunter. I was a soldier? I was good at this.” He then proceeds to aim the javelin at Oeca’s name, because at this point he can’t fully trust Ocea. He is very quick to violence, although he doesn't want Oeca dead, he certainly can’t trust in him. 

Another important note is that Mohwee is one of the people in the clearing he respected and saw as someone with the ability to act. Which is why we get this interaction where Mohwee calls out “Owen.” and Owen replies with “yes sir”. His past even without his memories is important and ingrained enough he still acts like this, and this only continues as we go through this section.

The first time they go in the maze as a group is when Apo arrives. This is a very important moment for Owen because their first trip in the maze solidifies his personality throughout this section and maybe even the series. Oeca is shot because Mohwee was careless and brought anyone in. When the group comes back, Owen asks Graecie, “How many entrances are there to this maze?” After finding out this is the only one that opens, he refuses to let anyone get hurt again and starts blocking it off.

Trust and promises are very important to Owen here too because it's one of the key reasons he blocks off the entrance. It’s not just Oeca getting hurt, it’s the fact he promised Graecie he wouldn't go in. “I broke my promise.” He also takes Apo’s word very seriously in the mine when he tells Owen he didn’t pull the lever. Also because of this he only trusts himself to go in the maze.

When the entrance is blocked off Owen is quick to violence and threatens people if they try to get past him. After finding the old battle axe he starts using it to threaten and intimidate people. “Anyone who goes past this (the gate) i will attack”

“Anyone else that will, I will just cut down” are some of the things he says. He punches Mohwee for trying to get past him. When Oeca comes back after Mohwee’s disappearance, Owen follows him with that battle axe trying to talk.

Owen then goes on to say “I’m not looking for violence” and “I'm not collecting weapons this was instinctual (points at bow)” he doesn't want people to think he’s dangerous and he knows people are scared of him.

Even if he seems aggressive he still wants to protect others. Owen goes back in the maze to look for Mohwee after he randomly disappears on their way back. “My job is to protect people and I will do that to the best of my abilities. At every possible stage”

When Mohwee disappears Owen takes a massive risk to stay in the maze overnight to see if the gates would open. “The only thing I remember about my life Graecie, is that I was raised to protect people. That's all I remember. And I know it was dumb and stupid to go in the maze but if it got us a step closer to finding Mohwee. I was willing to make that risk”

So we’ve established that Owen cares about the people in the clearing even if he doesn't trust all of them, he wants to protect them and he will do it no matter what. It's the purpose he has given himself in order to be useful.

He knows it doesn’t work how he wants it to. People are scared and wary of Owen’s protection. There are multiple instances where he tells his voices, “They don’t get it,” because he knows people don’t trust his methods. His method of control is disliked by a lot of people. 

Ori is one of the main characters to go against Owen. Owen hates this because not only does it risk the safety of others but it goes against his main purpose he gave himself. He takes this job very seriously. So when Ori goes in the maze it’s no wonder Owen becomes very violent.

“Ori I'm seriously sorry I will break your legs and I'm very close to it. Are you gonna make me. “

He doesn’t see himself to be super aggressive though “People think I'm being really aggressive when I talk like ‘oh hey if you come near me I'm gonna break your legs’ but I'm saying it in the most friendly way I can, you understand that right? I'm not trying to be aggressive with that”

“I'm saying like if you do step in here I will have to break your legs. In like a very gentle and I'm very sorry I hate to inconvenience you but I do have to break your legs.”

When Ori sneaks into the maze, Owen talks a lot about his purpose. Things like “Don't, I'll fail them. They'll kill me. My entire purpose here is to stay by this door and stop you from coming in.”

Owen hates to know he is failing the purpose he has given to himself “When I discovered I was a soldier that's what I set myself to (protecting others) but what do I have to show for myself? I have tried my hardest to protect these people. And get they look at me and tell me I'm a tyrant” “you're not in control, who are you to say what happens?”

He would do anything, even if it meant sacrificing himself. As shown before when Mohwee disappears but also as he protects the gate after the second lever gets pulled he says “I'm going to protect them if I die in the process so be it”�� 

Another note before this section ends is that it’s not just Ori who opposes Owen. Sillvia also talks about Owen’s method of leadership.

Sillvia about Owen: Owen I think you would be great. If not for the fact that you have a militaristic mindset. I don't want to see your leadership spiral into a place where Apo wants. Owen I fear you and I want you to know that. I actually fear you and I don't say that about many people. And ruling should not be through fear. You are a terrifying individual and to see you be in a position of power would be a slope we cannot afford or gamble slipping down. We've seen you tussle with Ori. I know you're a strong individual. You could lead us quite well but it's the risk that comes with your leadership that I am not willing to risk. 

The perception Owen has of himself differs from how he comes off. It becomes more of an issue later but we can already see this happen. 

So as clearing 2 is introduced this is what we know about Owen. He was a soldier once, he wanted to protect people in the clearing even if it meant sacrificing himself. He’s nice to others but his methods are still aggressive and violent, ready to hold a weapon to someone if needed and Owen cares a lot about trust. 

With the introduction of clearing 2 we can see how Owen changes and develops. He’s very cautious of clearing 2 members because for all he knows they could have led the creature that destroyed half their clearing in on purpose. 

Owen also faces betrayal from Apo. We know trust is something Owen values a lot. It’s mentioned in the early days, and it’s a major part of why he feels so strongly about Apo lying. During the scene where Owen faces Apo after finding he pulled the lever that killed the second clearing, his main issue with Apo isn’t the fact that he killed people. It was the fact he lied to him.

“You lied to me. Why did you do it? No no no I don't care about the lever. Apo why did you lie to me? You're my friend I trusted you. I stayed there. I held your back when oeca said it was you. I put my name on the line. Because we stood together in the mine and I asked you to swear to my face that you didn't do it. And you lied to me. Im meant to be your friend and you lied.” 

You can also see what Owen values in a person when they discuss Apo’s punishment and Owen says there's 3 main things he did

- went into maze without group consent

- pulled the lever

- he lied

Owen only adds on at the end that he left Squidney.

With all of this too we see Owen for the first time back away from the job he gave himself. He backs away from leadership, we start to see how tired Owen is from the stress of it all. His reasoning has to do with his trust being broken.

“What's the point they're all liars. This entire place is filled with filthy liars. Every single person. All I've ever done is tried to protect them”

“Forget it. I'm done. I'm don't helping people. No I'm not villain, I'm not a hero I'm nothing.

From now on there is no leader of the maze. They put me in charge. My word means nothing to them I'm done.”

“How am I meant to protect them when I try and stop them with physical force im made out to be some kind of monster. When I try to reason with them I'm made out to be soft.”  

Owen being viewed as soft has always been something he’s aware of. People tend to think because he’s kind that they can do whatever they want (sneak into the maze etc) and this perception Owen is a soft person develops. Even if he’s emotional and kind we’ve seen before in early maze days he is not soft. 

Owen tries to ignore all his problems but with it he grows more aggressive than before. His tone changes when he speaks about other people to his voices.

“To visit him would be to acknowledge he exists. And right now the last thing I want to do is consider the fact that this thing lives and breathes and eats and sleeps under my feet. The sooner he wastes away and fades into nothingness the better. I don't see a life going forward with him in it” - Owen about Apo

“The more I look around these stupid 4 walls the more I'm reminded that he that. That I trusted him.”

"he's everywhere. It's like a disease. Like it festers. The outside looks fine and you look just below the surface and it's rotting vile and it's him”

Apo: Just give me a chance.

Owen: why should I? So you can have another tick to the long list of times Owen has naively believed there is some good in the people that infests this clearing? Oeca, mohwee, Bekyamon, Magic, Graecie, Ori, you, liars. All of you.

I’m not just putting quotes here just for you to see oh trust is important! But more so for you to see that Owen changes when his trust has been broken or when he sees someone as a threat. Some of these things sound very similar to what Owen would say when he gets his memories back. Because to Owen trust and protection are 2 very important values. When that is broken he can’t be certain someone isn’t a threat. 

With this change Owen does become more aware he isn’t the most approachable person due to his methods. I do want to bring up this quote first though 

"Can I kill someone? Ive been thinking about this recently I say I'm a soldier. But I've never actually killed anyone. All my life in these 4 walls I've spoken about security and fighting and I can't remember a time I've actually taken someone's life. What if I have to. What if it comes to that I don't think I could stomach it either. I doesn't feel like me. It's not me it's not who I am. No I can't. I'll only attack this person if they do something first. And even then I'll just aim to incapacitate" - Owen about Ash

This is an interesting quote from Owen knowing his later actions but it’s not that out of character. If we look at every flashback he’s had so far we can see the life of a soldier is not one he’s always wanted.

Owen to his dad: What if I'm not ready to be your protector? No It's what you've always wanted! What if I wanted to do something else? What if I don't want to be a soldier what about me when do I get to look out for myself.

However he is always ready to attack if he needs to, if it comes to it he would do anything to protect someone. I think that means to kill even if Owen doesn’t think so at this point. 

His notebook btw

Another note about his behavior is that because of how others view him he almost dies from the creature’s venom. Ayngel even said before Owen is more angry. Other people even though it sounds jokingly say Owen gets grumpy when people disrupt him, leading to no one but Soup to check up on him when he gets stung.

When Bek comes back he doesn’t hesitate to do the things he did before. He does what he thinks is right and protects Magic by aiming a javelin at Bek. He says he’s not violent but anytime he feels like he’s in danger he pulls out a weapon. He did it when he was in Soup’s basement, he does it anytime he hears about someone potetially harming Rasbi, and he did it when he heard Oeca attacked Graecie. 

Owen in general is a fighter at heart. Even if he says he doesn’t want to kill anyone he is still ready to attack. 

Owen: this isn't you Ori. You fight. That's what you do.

Ori: what are you talking about?

Owen: you fight people. When you don't get your way you fight. You and I are the same

At the end of this section, the group decides not to go back in the maze. They had lost Squidney, Oeca, Mohwee, with the presumption that Red, Apo and Graecie were either dead or dying. Owen is tired of it all “Every Time I've tried to protect someone they've ended dead Kyle” he tries to hope but he is so tired. This tiredness also explains some things that happen when he gets his memory back. 

So to summarise before looking at Owen when he gets his memories back, this is what we know about Owen. He wants to protect his friends, he believes in trust a lot, he is both seen as more aggressive and angry these days and soft at the same time, he wants to be a good leader but other people don’t listen. Not much has changed since the early maze days, but it’s a more solid character now. 

When the reunion comes around Owen in the story has finally had a moment to think about everything that happened between him and Apo. His main regret in the series was how he treated him even if he broke his trust. 

Owen loves to contradict himself a lot but it’s a very human trait he has. He has complex feelings about Apo, and Beks and a lot of people. Yet he’ll still offer his protection to them. It’s because of this the ‘sudden’ shift in personality he has becomes very shocking to the audience. 

Since right before he sees Apo, Owen is very emotional here. Very similar to how he was in the early maze days. It’s out of his character to hope for something like seeing Apo because he knows it’s very unlikely he’ll see him again. However he gives himself this hope, one more chance. 

When Owen regains his memories the tone shift is obvious. He acts less emotional, he seems more mature. But we do need to consider this is someone who just had a lifetime of memories shoved back in his head and his core values are so strong that Owen doesn’t hesitate to act the way he used to. 

There’s lots of similarities to Owen here to the one we’ve known. Like his purpose. He sets one for himself immediately after arriving in the clearing. Even as he talks to Apo about his past he talks about his purpose

“I had a purpose once. I was useful, vital, adored. And suddenly everything changed. The world grew tired of blood shed. When all you're good for is violence, when you've been breed into a killing machine, a nation of peace will toss you aside like a spent torch”

There’s an obvious difference here right? The man we’ve watched in the maze who wanted to protect his friends just killed his best friend. This is definitely a different person right? Yes and no. Owen hasn’t changed that much, and I'll explain why after we go through some more things. But it’s important to note that this isn’t a completely new person, this isn’t something that is unexpected when we go through the information we already have about Owen. 

“I know what you are, you are everything wrong in the world has to offer. You are the amalgamation of all the gluttony and lust of humans with the evil and cunning of demons. You stand as a testament to everything vile. You are a disease on the face of this earth and I am it's curse” 

Apo: this isn't you you've changed 

Owen: incorrect, this is me. The man you manipulated and lied was nothing more than a puppet driven by the instinct to survive. 

Owen wants protection for his friends. He goes to extreme lengths to keep people safe, so when he remembers demons as this evil creature that will hurt people for their own gain he wasn’t going to stand around and do nothing right? 

Surprising or not this is very in character for Owen if we look at everything else we have from the series. To him, he is still doing his job, the one he’s done since day 1 in the clearing. Just now the threat isn’t just the maze and the occasional person, it’s demons. 

The way Owen became a demon hunter is essential too. He used to live in comfort, and based on past flashbacks he was training to be a soldier even if he didn’t fully enjoy it. His mother was a poet and his father was a general. He had grown up hearing all about how terrible demons are, and he didn’t understand until his village had been burned down.

One negative interaction with demons had put this deep hatred in his heart for them. Before his memories returned he was ready to forgive Apo, he knew he wasn’t as dangerous as he made him out to be. But when the sudden influx of memory comes, he has this past knowledge that Apo is a threat. 

Since Apo had hurt Owen before this only adds to it. Remember Owen really values trust. Apo has broken that trust in the past, so everything combined and letting go of the final restriction it’s no wonder he kills Apo. 

Despite this ‘massive personality change’ Owen has, when he returns to the clearing he still makes sure Magic is safe. He doesn't tell people about the lava rising so he wouldn’t cause panic. He still cares about these people. 

But Owen starts to view all the demons as a threat, every demon in the clearing has done something to suggest they could be dangerous. The reason Owen kills Guts is because they poisoned the food at the feast, which led to Magic being poisoned. He carries out this duty for protection

I think another thing people tend to forget about Owen is that he's been slowly breaking apart trying to fit what others want from him as seen in the last section. And it took a major toll on him. His outburst at Magic is one of the ways shown to us how much stress he’s been under. Perhaps even guilt he’s been feeling.

Magic: if you don't you're just putting everyone danger by not leading us… in there…

Owen: danger? You want to talk about putting others in danger? All of this coming from who exactly? The woman who's clearing burnt down under her leadership? The woman who lied about that previous position of leadership as she lacked the spine to correct her friend when she lied? The woman who was tied up and left for dead by that same friend? The woman who swore to protect a stranger only to them shot down in front of her? What the woman who stood still as her friend was ripped apart beside her? Oh yeah the magnitude of your failures Magic is deafening. Do you hear it? When you fall asleep at night, do you hear the screams of the dead who's blood stain your hands? How do you cope? When you find out be a good friend and let me know would you? Been looking for a way to shut them up. 

Owen does try to justify his actions to his voices even if they don’t listen. He knows people here aren’t good. He’s known this since clearing 2 was introduced, but with his memories back he feels like he has to carry on this duty by killing the threat. That’s the only way to keep people in the clearing safe right?

Owen to voices: have you stopped to think why I'm doing this? You seem so attached to these creatures, why? What good have they done? These people aren't good people. None of us good people. We're all in here for a reason. Just because you haven't taken your rose tinted glasses off to see that doesn't mean the rest of us haven't. 

Like before he won’t let anything stop him, even if it means hurting a few people. He doesn't hesitate to pull out a weapon when he hears Ayngel might know him. He can’t risk anything ruining his plans because he can’t afford to. He’s so tired. I think at this point anyone that was a major threat to him he would kill. 

Ayngel: I feel like I recognise you. You and your face from somewhere 

Owen: oh? (Starts to pull out knife from his bag)

Ayngel: I've been having this thought and it's got me thinking (Owen pulls out a knife in case)

Ayngel: actually, honestly forget it. It's all a dream and I'm overthinking

The only exception to his thinking is Rasbi. Rasbi actually hasn’t done anything wrong to him personally. She’s one of the few people that didn’t break his trust but he still kills her. Why? 

First off he doesn’t see her as the friend he wanted to protect but instead as something he protected only to kill in the end to fulfil his duty. Her sister is the reason why he ended up in the maze, so even without Rasbi directly harming Owen in any way it’s enough for Owen to kill her. I’m sure any small mistake or detail would have led Owen to killing any demon, because it only proves his thinking. 

Owen barely survives after Rasbi attacks him. So as Owen starts planning how to kill Krow he starts going a bit insane. His room is a mess, his mind is a mess and he can barely stand it anymore. We really start to see him fall apart here

Owen: this yolk is a burden is a burden I can't carry for much longer. I'm tired. I want to rest. But I took a pact, I made a promise. A glorious death is his for who his country falls and either I or they thing will have to die before I stop. 

Something that’s brought up when discussing the idea of ‘Maze Owen’ is the fact that we can see ‘glimpses’ of him in different interactions. For example when Owen and Krow go out into the maze and Owen spots Puddy he makes sure Puddy doesn’t die by keeping him away. Even if he’s aggressive in the scene the fandom interpretation is the care he has for Puddy as ‘Maze Owen’ slipped through. But It’s not out of character for him to still show care for people after his memories are returned based on everything we’ve seen.

Before ‘killing’ off Krow, Owen does say this “There's no escaping who you are” Which is really interesting since most characters he’s interacted with will tell him in the maze you can escape who you used to be. Owen knows for a fact no matter what he does in life now he will never have anything outside the maze. Because the world doesn’t need him anymore. He kills the demons as his final act of service to the world because he has nothing else to offer. 

When Krow finally comes back and Owen gets hit in the head he says to the rest of the group “I was protecting you all.” and “You don't know what they're like! You haven't seen the outside world.”

Looking at his final moments we see that everyone that Owen has cared about doesn’t trust him anymore. They don’t believe his protection was needed. He’s told that he will not get out of this cell. He’s left alone in the silence of the cell. Finally with the time to think. He starts experiencing multiple flashbacks and it makes it hard for him to think. 

We’ve seen in the past how Owen deals with multiple flashbacks. It gives him a headache or causes him pain in some cases. He also becomes really emotional afterwards. This follows the same case. Except he starts to realize some things.

Krow: I know those eyes. That glint of desperation for approval but knowing it's never coming. We're more similar than you let yourself believe you and I

(Flash back ‘i was an archer.?’ ‘i was a hunter?’ I was a soldier)

“I was a tool. Used.”

He knows he’s going to die soon and he starts to panic. The most important line he says is 

“So what now? This is it!? I deserve to die in battle. I killed them. It was what I. Its just what I was meant to do. I was trained. Should i have? I should have. I should have. I can't think inside my head, it's split in two” 

“So what voices? What was I before then huh? Was that me? Is that who people trust? People trust that one. Old Owen. Yes? It wasn't me. That wasn't me” flashback about Apo first coming up

“I can't think. I can't. They trusted him. They trusted him but not me? My head…”

After this he pleads with Magic to let him out. Owen claims “I hurt them, I hurt my friends. Rasbi, Guts. And Apo, Krow I don't know why I did those things” He pleads and cries. And he's desperate

Owen: “No magic it's me please.” 

Magic: “You kill people owen”

Owen: “It wasn't me I'm sorry. I just wanted to keep people safe.” 

Owen: “Magic please don't go… no… magic. You can't do this.”

Magic: “I can and I am” 

I think when we look at these final clips there’s a very important thing happening. Owen is separating himself from the past. He can’t understand why his friends don’t trust him. Even though nothing has changed. To him his eyes have been opened to the dangers of demons and he fulfilled his purpose. 

Why does this separation even happen? This is where we move to the final part of this long analysis and look at theories. There’s no way I can say for sure this is right or this is wrong. I can only tell you what I think based on the material already there. 

So before I go into this I have to emphasize I am not saying you can't refer to earlier Owen as maze Owen to explain Owen at different periods of his life. I'm saying when we really look at it, maze Owen doesn't exist since they're the same person. 

So what am I talking about? The concept of ‘maze’ Owen has been around for a long time. Even ccOwen talks about his character like that. The idea that just because Owen didn’t have his memories that he was some sweet, soft guy that needs to be babied is something that affects a lot on how you view him as a character. 

'maze' Owen doesn't actually exist because it's a way that Owen has come up with to justify to himself how he could have cared for demons without shattering his ideals. This is confused with Owen have distinct personalities and missing how he hasn't strayed from his ideals since the start with his idea of protecting everyone.

To separate that period of Owen's life in the maze ignores the fact that the characteristics you see in Owen post reunion are the same from before but taken to the extreme.

He's always been capable of ‘evil’'. It's the same as every other character in the series. We don't separate them like we do with Owen. Every character in the series is inherently morally gray, they do things out of desperation to survive. You can never say someone is 100% good or bad. 

Owen’s same mindset of 'I need to protect the people I care about because they're in danger now' carries through. After the reunion in his head demons are no longer part of that group he wants to protect. 

The separation of 'maze' and post reunion Owen forgets even in the post memory phase he had the ability to love like 'maze' Owen had. He released Puddy, he started a small farm, he started to relax. It's all part of him.

In his final moments he says a few important things to note. The first being "I was a tool. I was trained. Should I have... I should have." And then right after "I can't think in my head it's split in two"

It seems some take this as 'maze' Owen coming back and fighting with Owen on should he have killed Apo and the others. However rather than 'maze' Owen coming back i think it's this internal conflict he has with himself and his ideals.

Before he says this he's getting flashbacks to the early maze days where he showed kindness to demons. Something he would never let himself do in the past outside the maze. And something he would never do after he remembers it all.

Then he says to the voices "Is that who people trust? Old Owen" while those memories are playing. The voices respond saying they miss that Owen and he replies "Yes? That wasn't me" this is possibly where it further adds to the whole 'maze' Owen is a different person thing.

Rather than facing the fact that his thinking doesn’t make sense anymore he separates himself from those memories. As soon as Owen accepts that demons are not these creatures that betray and kill you at any moment, his life has no purpose.

Owen’s thinking comes from the manipulation and propaganda he's been fed. In his final episode we get these quotes which show just how much his thinking revolves around protection and also showing what years of training did to him.

He understands he was a tool that was used. He's well aware everything he is doing may not have a purpose and yet he still plays this part. He can't break away from that thinking because if he lets himself, Owen has to face the fact that his whole life had no true meaning.

That is a terrifying thing to do. He has been in this environment for so long you can’t just take him out of it. 

Going over everything you can access in Owen’s pov, we know that before gaining his memories Owen is a person that cares deeply about his friends, he risks himself to protect them, he won’t hesitate to hold a weapon against someone he sees as a threat. Owen thinks trust is an important value to have, he takes it very seriously. But we also know that not everyone likes Owen and his leadership. He’s seen with a military mindset, people don’t want to upset him and it nearly costs his life.

Now let’s compare that with the Owen we get to know after his memories return. He wants to protect the people he deeply cares about, he risks himself to protect them, he doesn’t hesitate to hold a weapon against someone that he sees as a threat, only now the threat is demons. When we start looking at these differences, yes, Owen when he regains his memories is different, his tone changes, he murders people. But those core values we’ve seen throughout the series stay with him.

It’s one of the reasons why Owen can’t understand why no one in the clearing is on his side. He protected them against the threat they didn't know about. That is his purpose, and that’s what he’s good for. Remember right at the beginning of the series Owen sets his purpose to protect these people, now this is still the same. He views demons as a threat because he hasn’t had good experiences with them. Even if Apo became his friend in the clearing, Apo ends up lying to Owen, and betraying his trust. Guts became his friend but Guts tried to poison Magic. Owen has never fully trusted Krow and that distrust only furthers once he knows what Krow is capable of based on his experiences with demons.

So let’s go back to the previous question: who was it there? You’re probably thinking well how do you explain maze Owen and the chips. ccOwen has mentioned before that it's a possibility for the chips to alter memories. Maybe Starr suppressed those memories and maze Owen was there again. Or he was hit hard on the head right? Maybe his chip was damaged and it altered his emotions and memory.

There is too little known information to us as an audience about the chips in their head. We know they can supposedly make the outsiders lose track of time, alter their memories, their emotions and change how they act. But if the chips in their head is the explanation for everything then why does Owen remember killing his friends when he talks to Magic? He says it like he wasn't the one doing it, like he watched someone else do it. How do you explain his behaviour then? If the damaged chip really made him act like that then why do flashbacks still occur when he's in prison? He seems to have no control over those, so the chip must still work fine?

I think when we look at his character the maze has already changed him whether he likes it or not. There’s more doubt in him than before. He lets Apo go with extra time. He hesitated before he ran after him. No matter how small, he has changed.

But when Owen talks about himself in the past he makes this separation. The voices in his head won't stop calling for the guy they used to know, even though he's right here. I think Owen doesn't even want to acknowledge at one point he was friends with the demons he hated so much. 

In that prison cell all his ideals and values are facing him. Everything he's done and he's known has been a lie. I think he knows this but can't bring himself to acknowledge that. Would you admit what you thought for your entire life was wrong? That you killed countless for nothing?

When faced with death Owen becomes desperate. Which I think explains his behaviour with Magic. That is his last hope and he knows people like the older version of him. I don't think he's fully lying though when he says i don't know why I did those things. Not because maze Owen came back or anything but because in the maze he no longer has this duty but he still carries it out. He's so tired from it all and he wants to leave it behind but he can't.

So let's go over his death scene one more time. “My head it's split in two” I think the explanation for this is that he was just hit with a bunch of flashbacks of his first days. Right before this he also says ‘I was a tool. Used’ I believe in his final moments where he has a moment to think he starts to fight himself. Should he have done all this for a country that throws him away the second he's useless? He was trained to do this. But should he have really? That's what I think is making him say my head it's split in two. He's fighting his own views and alongside these positive memories it makes him confused. And overwhelmed.

It's important to note Owen doesn't have a single bad flashback about Apo and Rasbi. He doesn't think about the levers, he thinks about his friends that he met. That he protected.

The more flashbacks he gets the more defensive he becomes. “I'm right here you can't convince me otherwise” He doesn't understand why the Owen in his memories is trusted so much, even though they're the same person. In his mind he's doing what he's always done. protect.

“It wasn't me I'm sorry I just wanted to keep people safe” everything he says to Magic is half genuine and half lie. I don't think even Owen knows which parts are which. It's easier if he separates himself into the nice trusted Owen and who he is now.

No matter what in the end, that was Owen. Not Maze Owen but Owen who is desperate to live. He's tired of it all. He's finished his mission and he won't even get to see what he thinks will be an honorable ending for him.

Remember what Owen says to Apo? "The man you manipulated and lied was nothing more than a puppet driven by the instinct to survive."

So of course he'll do anything to survive even if it means playing up the truth.

It's hard to separate Owen into these neat boxes and say for sure that was Maze Owen at the end or that was full manipulation. Because like Owen everything is a bit grey here. Maze Owen wasn't the best person, he hurt his friends, people were scared of him. And post memories Owen isn't some misunderstood guy that needs babying either. 

My final thoughts on this debate is that in the end the one that pleads for his life is just Owen. To separate him and say it was Maze Owen doesn't allow you to understand how complex Owen is as a character. And continues to let you believe that Owen can't do anything wrong. Not understanding sometimes a good person is capable of this evil. To the end Owen still believed he was doing what was right and that was protecting the ones he cared about. So has anything really changed since the start?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dyspathy

Warnings: non/dubcon, fingering, implied virginity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Part of Roo’s Pajama Party (October 7-8)

Prompt: Dyspathy - lack of sympathy (List of prompts here) + this look

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. I hope you enjoy this one and have a lovely weekend.

“You got any whiskey around here?” 

The metal boots crunch on broken glass. You shiver in only a satin sheath, wide awake despite the itch in your eyes. Your heart is still pounding from the chaotic awakening. You sniff and rub your nose. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask in a crisp croak. 

Tony chuckles as his suit gleams against the overhead light. He makes no effort to be subtle. His eyes search the front room of your apartment as he trods over the shards of glass. Your windows are shattered from his intrusion. 

“You know why I’m here, sweetheart,” he faces you and puts his hands on his hips, gauntlets clunking on his hi-tech armour. “You were never very... low key.” 

“I don’t,” you insist. “I have no idea why you would be here.” 

Your nipples poke against the thin night gown as another breeze rolls through. You hug yourself as he clucks and tilts his head. His eyes flit up and down. His brow arches. 

“That idiot could never see what’s right fucking in front of him,” he mutters. “You know what idiot I mean.” 

You blink and shake your head. Your cheeks burn. You think you know but you haven’t seen either them in a year. Not since you quit. 

“You really expect me to believe that you’re not helping him? Come on. Even right now, just thinking about Captain Good Boy, I see you getting all googly eyed,” he taunts. He taps his chest and his suit retracts into itself. “This doesn’t have to be difficult. Just give up lover boy and I’ll go in peace.” 

You frown, “I’m telling the truth. I haven’t seen Steve.” 

“Oooh, Steve,” he puts on a voice and bats his lashes dramatically. “He didn’t give a fuck before but now that he’s a criminal, he’s got time for ya, doesn’t he, baby?” 

“No.” 

“You know that’s what he is now. He’s aiding and abetting a fugitive. A murderer,” he snarls and comes closer. “And if you’re lying to me, so are you. Thing is, sweetheart, if that’s the case, you’re not special. Not like him. They want him alive, him and that metal-armed fuck. No one cares about you.” He brings his hand up under your chin, “hell, Cap doesn’t either. You’re just a convenience. A safehouse, a warm hole.” 

You shove him away, repulsed. 

“I’m not lying. If he showed up, I wouldn’t help him. But he hasn’t.” You back up as he reaches for you again. You dodge his grasp. “I quit. I walked away from that. From all of you. You are all just the same and I know that now. You just laugh at people who aren’t you. Whatever you’re fighting about, I don’t care. Leave me out of it.” 

He hums and snorts, “I just can’t believe you. I watched you moon over him for ages and now you’re what? Bitter? You never had that in you.” 

“Fine. Look around. I don’t care. You won’t find anything,” you hiss. “Because you’re right. He never cared about me. You really think he’d come groveling to me?” 

He smirks, “desperate measures.” 

You look away and sniff. He always was mean. People always called him funny or clever, but he’s always been cruel. If you’re not a woman he wants to fuck, you’re nothing. 

He continues around the apartment. You sit in chair and cross your arms. You ignore his intrusion as he lifts cushions, checks under the coffee table, then wanders down to your bedroom. You hear the draws scraping in and out. Books hitting the floor. You’re angry but mostly because you’re helpless. He’ll find nothing and he’ll go. 

“Jeez, you really live like this,” his voice wafts down the hall ahead of him. He emerges back into the light and whistles, “I mean, you are having a bit of fun, aren’t you?” 

He wiggles a silver shape between his fingers. You cringe. The small bullet vibe stays in your nightstand. Your sole companion on lonely nights. 

“So, he’s smart. He doesn’t leave a trace. Well, I’ll just have to ask you some big questions.” He approaches and you tense, pushing your shoulders back. You glare up at him. 

“I told you--” 

“You told me shit,” he interrupts. “So, we will do this the fun way.” He spins the vibe then click the button, “don’t worry, you’ll like it. Now, open those legs for me, baby. If it helps, you can pretend I’m him.” 

You scoff, “you’re disgusting.” 

“And you’re getting wet,” he sneers. “Pretend all you want but we both know you’re easy.” 

“Go. If you think I’m lying, go get a warrant. Arrest me--” 

“I don’t need all that,” he grabs your knee and pinches the pressure points until you squeal. You grip the armrests and arch your feet. You hiss up at him through your teeth. “I got full authority to do whatever needs to be done to get answers.” 

He wrenches your leg to the side and you wince. Your calf tendrils with electricity as he pinches deeper. You whine and writhe on the seat. 

“Pull that fucking skirt up,” he demands. 

“Tony--” 

“No, shut the fuck up and show me your pussy,” he growls. 

You gasp as the pain grows intolerable. You blink against the tinge of tears and curl your fingers into the satin. You tug up the midnight blue fabric and tremble. He shoves the buzzing toy against you, rolling it across your folds until it thrums against your clit. His finger tickles just along your flesh. 

“Knew you were getting wet for me,” he chuckles. “Ah, baby, if it was me, I’d have fucked you the moment you smiled at me with those lips.” He pushes the toy hard into you so it rattles your bones, “but it wasn’t fucking me, was it? You only had eyes for that fucking golden mannequin.” 

“Please--” 

“No, you talk when I want you too,” he wiggles the toy so your teeth chatter and you groan. “When was he here?” 

“I’m telling you--” 

He circles your clit with the tip and your thighs clench. He bends over you as he lets go of your knee. He grabs your hair and wrenches your head back until you look him in the eye. 

“You’re lying. When?” 

“He wasn’t--” 

He swirls the toy and you murmur nonsense. Your cunt clenches as you feel the climax building. You’re mortified at how quickly your body responds. You cling to the arms of the chair and arch your back. 

“He’s not--” 

“Tell the fucking truth.” 

“I am!” Your voice piques right as you’re about to explode. 

He pulls the toy off of you and your orgasm fizzles before it can erupt. You’re left untied and unsatisfied. He raises the vibe and shuts it off as he admires the sheen of your juices. He slides it between his lips. 

“Mm, sweet. He must love the taste of you. I know he’s coming back for more, huh?” He teases. 

“No, no,” you puff out, “he hasn’t--” 

“Does he share you with his buddy? Huh? You probably would. Captain’s orders, right?” 

You measure your breaths as your heartbeat peters out. He clicks the toy on again, this time tapping the button twice. He once more presses it against your bud. You squeak and twitch as you sway between your need and humiliation. 

He lets go of your hair as he rubs the toy up and down until you drone. Your lashes flutter and your body jitters. It’s so much different, so much more intense than when it’s just you. 

“What’s his favourite thing? He seems like a missionary guy.” 

You whimper and shake your head. You heave and blink up at him helplessly, “I don’t know. I swear. He hasn’t...” 

More embarrassing than what he’s doing is how pathetic you really are. You were head over heels for Steve. You dreamed of him, at night, during the day, and even with that toy in hand. Even after you swore him off, he still creeps back into your lonely fantasies, but never for real. 

You saw the news. You heard he was AWOL. You tried not to pay attention. Denial works for you but it won’t keep you safe. Just look at you now. 

“Ah, he hasn’t-- Oh, oh, oh,” you bite your lip and lean into the rising tension. He takes the toy away again. You moan and mewl and fall back weakly in the chair. 

“He can’t have been here recently, huh? Not with you so fucking needy,” he tuts. “Or maybe the greatest generation isn’t really all that great. He give you head?” 

You shiver and shake your head. You try to close your legs and he kicks your feet apart. Your knees splay as you latch onto the chair. Your body is jelly. 

He turns off the toy and flings it away. Your eyes follow it in disappointment. Your unspent orgasm tickles in your pelvis. 

He leans down to grab your thighs and lowers himself to his knees. His dark eyes glimmer menacingly as they wander up and down your body. 

“Show me those tits. I wonder if there as pretty as the pussy,” he slides his hand up your thigh and flicks your clit. 

You whimper and shakily bring your hands up to the thin straps. You pull them down your arms and uncover your chest. You look away as your skin smatters with goosebumps. 

“Mm, fuck, he really is stupid.” 

He traces along your folds, rubbing you up and down as he bends forward. He cups a tit in one hand as he takes your other nipple between his lips. He purrs as he sucks and teethes. The sensation plucks in your core. You groan and tilt your hips as he toys with your clit. 

He presses his thumb to your bud and angles his hand to push two fingers into you. You drone at the stretch. You never use more than the vibe. It always hurt too much to put anything in you but not this time. Your head lolls and your eyes drift over to watch the top of his head. 

He rolls your clit as he rocks his hand into you. He curls up and finds a spot that makes your insides pulse. You clasp onto his shoulders and moan. You need to cum. You don’t care that it’s him, that it’s not Steve; none of it matters. 

He pushes his hand in and out. Your cunt clings to him, making sloppy wet noises to match those of his mouth. He sucks your tit as he groans. He drags his mouth up your breast as he rams his knuckles into you, over and over. He smears his spit and hot breath over your skin. 

You mewl and hug his head as every ounce of thought trickles away. You quake as your orgasm crashes down like an icy wave on a hot day. You cry out in delight and rock in time with his hand. You feel the cool gush of your pleasure pour out onto the chair and you pant through the hammer of your heartbeat. 

He buries his fingers deep and reaches to unwrap your arm from his head. He sits back, his hair tussled, the silver along his temples puffed out. He grins and looks down, wiggling his hand against your cunt as you spasm. 

“I believe you, baby. You’re not this tight with a man banging down your doors,” he snickers and plays with you, eyes fixed between your legs. “But he’ll show up.” He pushes in until you whine, “and you’ll keep him on the hook til I get here, won’t you?”