#[ I REMEMBER WHEN THE LAST SEASON CAME OUT. and i was holding out Hope that two charas would end up together but NOPE ]

[mvltiversed]

listen. i know t.urn took place in the literal 18th century and came out in 2014-2016 but..........they needed more queer people.

[thinkinonsense]

Bewitched

˖⋆࿐໋ james logan howlett ✦ bridgerton au series

bewitched masterlist

cw: 1800s mentality on marriage and women, pinning, bickering, enemies to lovers

pairing: viscount!logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: as of right now, i'm not sure how long this series will be but i'm so excited for it! i tried to make the reader as universal as possible but i did have to give her some sort of last name, so if that isn't your thing, you can always change it to fit. after the set up, i'll probably drop the last name.

bridgerton lore: ton (high society), debuting (when you begin dating/looking for a partner), spinster (an unmarried woman)

main masterlist

in early june, everyone returned back to england for this season and whispers of a french woman joining the ton spread around. one morning at breakfast, marie howlett was reading one of the gossip columns aloud to her family when her eldest brother, james walked into join them at the table.

"it says she's staying with her aunt, lady worthington. she is four and twenty and the only child. her passions are literature and painting. apparently, the queen has one of her paintings in her home..."

"she sounds lovely. doesn't she, james?" their mother said, hoping her boy was listening.

"she's a spinster." he says, eating some of the fruit on the table. "that's not viscountess material."

"the queen seems to find her to be diamond material." marie jabs.

james has never fallen for one of the diamonds. sure, their beauty is prominent and sometimes they can hold an intellectual conversation but for the most part they are simply shoved forward so the queen can take credit for their marriage.

"i have more important priorities this season."

"well, this season you should prioritize finding a viscountess." their mother bit at him.

during this time every year his mother gives james the same speech over and over again. the marriage speech. ever since his father died during battle, james has been plagued with not only his grief but also the weight of replacing his father and eventually having to find a replacement for his mother as well. instead of focusing on marriage, james kept himself busy either working or traveling and keeping his family afloat.

"mama, i promise i will find a wife at some point." james sighs. "i just haven't met anyone that can handle being my viscountess."

"what about the red headed girl from last season? you seemed to fancy her quite a bit."

"she married lord summers this past spring."

"and the munroe girl?"

"she's interested in mister brooks."

all his mother does is sigh in response to the news. he takes this as the perfect chance to escape the interrogation.

luckily for james, there was always an excuse to avoid marriage. in the past he's gotten close to making that walk down the aisle but something always held him back. he's never believed much in love or marriage past it's convenience. sure, he believed it was the blueprint of life, to take a wife and start a family but his marriage is seen as a much bigger deal.

all the mamas in the ton were practically throwing their daughters in his direction. at balls, he's always forcing marie to dance with him because if not, he will be forced to socialize with these young unintellectual girls who only value him for his money and title. james didn't want to have to nurture these girls. he would take care of his wife but he wanted someone who was independent from him.

ever since his father died in the war, james has always been guarded of his feelings. especially, when it came to love. when he went with his mother to identify his father's body, james swore on that day that he would never let love destroy him like it did his mother.

"remember, marie is debuting tonight at the first ball of the season." his mother called after him. "don't be late."

"i wouldn't miss it." he smiles at his little sister before dashing out the door and back to his study.

˖⋆࿐໋

a rainbow of silks are spread across your bed as you try to figure out what to wear tonight. if your mother was here, she would know exactly what would look best on you. it's only been three months since her passing yet the ache in your chest grows stronger day by day.

"what are you thinking of wearing tonight?" your aunt asks, lingering in the doorway.

"i'm not sure yet." you sigh, picking at the pretty gowns. "i like the light blue one."

arguably, it was the prettiest in the pile. so simple, you hoped to blend in among the wash of colors in the room tonight. the boning of the corset poked the left side of your ribs a little but beauty is pain.

as you got ready, the nerves started to kick in. by now you should be on your second or third child and pregnant with the next. why was love taking so long to find you?

ever since you were a little girl, you were a hopeless romantic. dreaming of your first kiss and getting married to your knight in shining armor. back home, there was a cruel joke that you were the girl before the wife. you get just close enough before they end it. afraid that the curse would travel with you.

"don't worry." you aunt hums, brushing your hair. "the queen picked you as her diamond for a reason."

"i know, i know." you nod, avoiding your reflection in the mirror. "i just wish mother was here with me."

"i do too, dear."

"she should've seen me married."

a small tear rolls down your pink painted cheeks. it feels like you let her down by not taking a husband before her illness got worse.

men have it so easy. there's no pressure from society put on them. you can marry at fifty to a nineteen year old if you so please because you know that they will marry you out of fear and desperation.

"who says she can't?" your aunts smile reflected in the mirror. "she's still looking down on you, probably working on sending you a lord or a duke for a husband as we speak."

"amusing." you giggle.

"imagine a viscount or a prince!"

both of you laugh at the possibility. viscounts and princes were usually swept up quickly in high society. all of them probably have pregnant wives by now.

"don't get too ahead of yourself."

˖⋆࿐໋

the queens ball was unlike anything you had ever seen. beautiful gardens, bright lights, and people gathered everywhere. inside the ballroom, the chandelier lights almost blind you.

like a hawk, lady chamberlain spots you two. she is an older lady and a close family friend. you haven't seen her since you were a little girl, surprised that she was able to recognize you.

"lady worthington and miss bowery, lovely to see you here!" the woman smiled, wrapping her arms around both of you.

"hello, lady chamberlain." you smile, feeling slightly at ease seeing a familiar face here.

"you look marvelous, sweetie." she smiles, taking in your appearance. at least someone appreciated all the bells and whistles that went into your dress for this evening. "truly like a diamond."

"thank you." you curtsy. a warm rose color rises to the surface of your cheeks at her compliment.

"let's go find that viscount i've told your aunt about." she says.

suddenly, she's pulling you and your aunt over to meet everyone.

quite some time has passed and yet you've only met barton's and a few lords. from one eligible bachelor to the next, it was the same process. you introduce yourself, dance, ask a bit about each other, jump into talks of marriage and children. it was all a bit overwhelming to say the least.

there's no news on a prince yet but lady chamberlain was holding out for a viscount while your aunt held out for a duke. meanwhile, you just needed someone with charm and charisma to save you from these godawful men of the ton.

"i'm going to get a drink." you announce, one the music ends.

in one of the dim corners of the room there was a refreshment table where you poured a hefty amount of wine into your glass and down as much of it –in a very unlady like manner– as you could before another person could find you.

it wasn't long until someone behind you clears their voice loudly.

"i was unaware that they taught women to drink like soldiers in france..."

you spin around quickly to face the man in front of you. he is gorgeous and... huge. dawned in white puffy shirt and a tight black vest with detailed buttons. he towered over you intimidatingly with a small smirk creeping on his lips from shocked expression.

"i-i deeply apologize, my lord. it was just grape juice." you laugh nervously, avoiding his piercing stare.

"hm..." he hums, lifting his hand up and letting his thumb swiftly glide under your lip to catch the bit of liquid there. you watch in awe as he licks the bit of wine off his thumb with a soft groan. "they must make 'grape juice' different in france."

never in your whole life have you been left so speechless. a gentleman has never done more so than touch your hand, let alone act so scandalous. with a satisfied smirk, the man walks away to join a small group of young women. thank goodness that no one seemed to have noticed.

"miss bowery!" lady chamberlain called after you. "i want you to come meet the howletts."

swiftly, you get back to her as she approach a mother and daughter. both of them were stunningly and wore expensive looking gowns with luxurious jewels. lady chamberlains wide smile only made you grow more anxious.

"meet lady howlett and her daughter, the honorable, marie howlett." lady chamberlain introduced.

"lovely to meet you." you say, bowing gracefully before them.

"where is viscount james?" lady chamberlain asks.

"oh! he should be around here somewhere..." the woman looked behind the two of you until she flagged someone down. “there he is!”

the moment that you looked up at the viscount, you feared your heart might explode right then and there. silently pray to the gods above that he won't mention your previous encounter.

"miss bowery, this is my son, viscount james logan howlett." lady howlett announces proudly.

"what a pleasure to meet you, miss bowery." james smirked, trying to get a rise out of you.

"as is it for me, my lord." you curtsy politely, feeling hot under his gaze.

a cloud of lust fogs james mind at the words, my lord fell from your pretty, slightly berry colored lips. the lower his eyes drift from your face, the tighter his trousers get. every exquisite curve is highlighted by the way that the silk fell on your frame, reminding him of the goddesses he had only seen in the finest of paintings.

"might you wish to accompany me to a dance?" he asks, extending his hand to you.

you nod, offering him your gloved hand in return.

the two of you make your way to the dance floor with everyone else. the orchestra begins and you quickly fall in sync with each other.

"how are you enjoying england?" james asks.

"it's quite lovely." you lie.

"better than france?" he questioned with a small tilt of his head.

"no." you giggle softly. "nowhere on earth is better than home."

"i suppose i cannot argue with that."

"have you journed to france?"

"once. when i was younger, i went with my father. he loved france."

"that's why my mother left england. she fell in love with my father when she visited france."

"they must be true romantics."

"oh, most definitely." you smile.

carefully, logan spins you twice. never letting you stumble over your own two feet like most men would.

"i truly am sorry for earlier, my lord. that was completely unacceptable for a–"

"it's alright, sweetheart." the viscount cut you off with a chuckle. "your secret is safe with me."

james looks down to see your big round eyes sparkle up at him with great appreciation. there's a unique feeling blooming deep in his chest that he can't quite put his finger on.

"i heard from some mamas that you are seeking to wed this season." you say, looking elsewhere as the two of you pull apart.

"seeking is such a complex word." he sighs amusingly.

"i imagine it would be difficult to find a future viscountess."

"you have no idea."

all around you, you can see the women openly fawning over the viscount. some fan themselves while other clutch their jewels with either anger at you or lust for him. any of those women would duel to be in your shoes right now.

"do you have a desire to be viscountess?" his question made your heartbeat increase, pounding in your chest.

as a young girl, you watched your family struggle in order to survive so it would be a lie to say that you don't dream of having a title. you have a father back in france to take care of in his elderly age. but love was your main desire. you would marry a sweet common man as long as he loved you.

"i desire to be loved." you tell him.

the answer caught james off guard. the women of the ton had no issue telling him to his face that they want his tittle or money. none of those women actually cared about love.

"well, my darling, you are quite the fool to be seeking out something as pure as love in a place such as this." james says, pulling you so close that you can feel his heartbeat in his chest and his eyes darken.

"don't be so cock-sure, viscount howlett. i am no fool at all." you glare angrily up at him. "i wish you well on your journey to find such a bird-witted viscountess."

the song ends and you are quick to make an exit. hot on your heels, james follows you outside. perhaps you shouldn't have insulted the viscount to his face but you didn't quite care anymore. this night has been a bust and you aren't any closer to marriage then you were before walking in here.

"miss, bowery..." a man calls, capturing your attention. "would you accompany me to a dance?"

based on the man's appearance, he seems even more important that the viscount. he was definitely the opposite of james. this man wore light grey in places where james wore black. this man had a sweet smile where james had a scowl.

"her dance card is full." the voice behind you threatened.

the gentleman's face fell a little.

"actually, i have one last spot open on my dance card." you smile, showing him the tag tied to your right wrist which had exactly one spot open. "i would love to accompany you..."

"prince harrison." he grins.

you hum, offering your hand. the prince leans down and kissed your gloved fingers before sweeping you off to the dance floor again.

james fumed as he watched you walk away with the prince. lady howlett spots her son alone and walks over to him.

“please tell me that you did not scare off this seasons diamond, james.” lady howlett asked in a low whisper.

“i’m gonna call a carriage” he growls, annoyed.

“dear!”

his mother called after him but he couldn’t care to turn around and stay here any longer.

˖⋆࿐໋

on the carriage ride alone, james is stuck with the image of you. your beauty and the pain in your eyes when james called you a fool. oddly enough, james enjoyed the way you bit back at him. he just wishes that he hadn’t offended you.

apparently you must not be that hurt if you accepted a dance from harrison of all people. not because he wanted to court you but because harrison was barely considered a prince and was a poor excuse of a man. never having to lift a finger a day in his life. never knowing a single struggle. the prince was insufferable.

perhaps it was in james best interest to forget about the beautiful woman he met this evening. she is this seasons diamond after all, desired by too many. james wasn't known to chase the things he desired.

──★

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[hyperfixating-rn-brb]

The Good Omens Fandom has had a lot of fun recently with the knowledge of Aziraphale and Crowley holding hands on the bus at the end of season 1.

Soo here's everything that went through my head as I learned of it for the first time.

For that entire scene, Aziraphale is really far gone. He's dissociating so hard he can't even realize he's been sitting on a sword. Crowley is probably the only thing keeping him grounded.

They just narrowly stopped Armageddon after a showdown with literally Satan, and still can't let their guard down. For the first time ever, they're completely on their own side. Now they have to orchestrate a body swap to save both of them. They wouldn't just be killed, they'd be completely destroyed. Everything must go exactly according to plan, but how often does that actually happen?

And on top of that, his bookshop, his home, his safe place with the demon he has to pretend not to love is burned and gone.

Crowley is so incredibly gentle and reassuring this entire scene. He's been through so much trauma himself and has spent a lot of his existence shielding the angel from it, hoping to protect some of his innocence and naivete. Crowley is absolutely familiar with every symptom of PTSD and anxiety.

Now he has to see his sweet angel see such a small bit of the horrors of heaven and hell and start to crumble inside. He's going to do his dam best to try and help Aziraphale through it. Speaking softly, ("the bookshop burned down... remember?) slowly and carefully, gradually helping to pull the angel back to reality, reminding him that he's there and will help ground him.

They get on the bus, and sit next to each other. 11 years ago, they sat nearby but separated while Crowley begs Aziraphale to help him prevent the Apocalypse. Now they are sitting together. Both an act of reassurance and unity.

Crowley sits first, Aziraphale could so easily just sit across from him, behind or in front. But he chooses to sit right next to him. And hold his hand. Aziraphale desperately needs to be near to the *former* demon he loves, to hold him, to make sure they won't be separated.

In the book, their famous lines of "none of this would have worked out if you weren't, deep down, just a bit of a good person" and "just enough of a b*stard to be worth liking" came as Satan rose from the earth, as a goodbye in case they were destroyed.

Luckily, that didn't happen and they survived. Armaggedon was stopped. But the angel is still so anxious of losing Crowley. So he chooses to reach out, to anchor himself and reassure himself that Crowley is still there beside him and that they are okay, at least for a few minutes.

And Crowley let him. He knows how badly Aziraphale needs him, he needs the angel just as much. He knows how badly he craved an anchor and support system as he was first abused and traumatized by his Fall, then further by Hell. So he's going to continue being there for Aziraphale, doing everything he can to make his angel feel safe and comfortable.

Over the next few years, Aziraphale would become so much more comfortable reaching out and touching Crowley. Leaning into him, resting a hand on his shoulder or briefly touching his chest. Somehow both reassuring himself that the former demon was still there, and reminding Crowley that he's still there for him at the same time.

Then Crowley becomes more comfortable with the touch, leaning into the angel by himself. No longer flinching at a sudden graze of a hand or reassuring squeeze.

That one moment of the two holding hands on the bus cemented so much of their relationship. "The last few years, not really..." all started on that bus the moment Aziraphale chose to sit down next to Crowley.

edited: at first this said "new knowledge" because I just found out about this all the other day, and wrote this up at 3 AM, and didn't really fact check when this knowledge became well known. I've only really been a GO fan since maybe 2021, and only really started being active in the fandom during the last few months, so a lot of info that is fairly well known is still generally new to me. soo yeah this was edited :)

source for anyone asking for it!

[interstellarflare]

A Cinderella Story || Anthony Bridgerton

-PART ONE-

Summary: Have courage, and be kind. Words that you tried to live by ever since the passing of your parents. Though your step-mother and step-sisters did everything in their power to hide you and your status away from the rest of the Ton, you never expected to catch the eye of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton himself.

Authors Note: This is my first Bridgerton series! I had an absolute ball writing this, and I hope you enjoy it! There is a tag list open if anyone wishes to be kept updated for future parts. Gif by @greengableslover

‘The Prince smiled, extending his hand towards her with grace and ease.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” he asked lowly, his eyes meeting hers with a kind yet mischievous twinkle. There was something about the Prince that made her heart flutter, that made her place her hand into his and reply-‘

The sound of hurriedly approaching footsteps and a chorus of shouting caused you to stuff the book beneath your pillows, a small panic settling over you as you quickly jumped out of your rickety bed and threw the old sheets over the mattress to at least make it look as if you hadn’t been lying in it mere seconds ago.

The door to the attic swung open, violently ricochetting off the wall and with a loud ‘bang’. You flinched, a shaky breath escaping you as you turned your gaze towards the form of your stepmother, her piercing greyish-blue eyes staring intently at you as she entered. She held her head high, the permanent scowl on her features examining every little aspect of the small space with precision. Her eyes landed on the small wooden table beside your bed, narrowing on the melted candle with the wax spilling over the sides.

“You were reading again, weren’t you?” She growled, her lips pursing in annoyance. Fiddling with your hands in front of you, you shrugged your shoulders slightly. “It wasn’t all night, Lady Worthington, I swear-“

“Nonsense, I can see the candle clear as day girl!” She shouted, a look of disapproval forming on her features. You held her stare, a small sense of guilt settling in your stomach the longer your stepmother remained in the attic. With a long and annoyed huff, she brushed he black-greying hair from her shoulder, looking you up and down with a look of disgust. “Get yourself cleaned up, and once you’re done start with breakfast. My girls are hungry, we have a long day ahead of us” she ordered, gathering her deep purple skirts and storming out of the room.

Releasing a breath you weren’t aware you were holding, your shoulders slumped in relief. You looked down at yourself and sighed, Lady Worthington was right. The clothes you wore currently were nothing but rags, and your day clothes weren’t much better. They were either oversized or too small, but you made do with the worn black and white maids dresses you were given. After getting changed and tying your hair back with a small piece of ribbon, you quickly skipped downstairs and into the kitchen.

You could hear Lady Worthington and her daughters cackling manically in the dining room, discussing their plans for the day, and how excited they were to be invited to Lady Danbury’s ball. Lady Danbury’s ball was one of the highlights of the season, or…so you had heard anyway. It had been a long time since you had seen the dear woman, you believed the last time you held conversation with her was when you were but a child. Your father, just after the loss of your mother, had taken you to one of Lady Danbury’s balls after deciding that leaving you at home would have been unwise at this grief-stricken time.

You remembered the beautiful dresses, the beautiful debutants who smiled and waved at your curious gaze. The kind bachelors who greeted you with a dance. And a young boy, hiding behind his father’s legs, his eyes following you wherever you went. Lady Danbury had been most gracious, you remember. A close friend of your mothers, almost like an aunt to you. But when Lady Worthington came into the picture and had taken control of your father’s inheritance after his passing, you were practically forgotten and hidden away from the ton. A part of you missed it, though you weren’t envious of today’s debutants desperately seeking husbands. Lady Worthington was perhaps one of the most persistent mothers out there, aside from Lady Featherington you hear.

This would be the third season that your stepsisters, Elizabeth and Mary Worthington, would participate in. They very much enjoyed flaunting themselves before the ton, given the state of their rooms with delicate and luxurious dresses and jewellery thrown about. They did not hide their wealth, rather your father’s wealth, that their mother had inherited, and bought the fanciest dresses money could buy. It had almost worked one season, Colin Bridgerton had visited to call on Elizabeth. But upon seeing how lavishly she lived, and how horribly she had treated you upon her request for tea for the two of them, the third-eldest Bridgerton hadn’t called again.

She changed somewhat after that, you recalled. She didn’t find much enjoyment in gorgeous dresses or glittering diamonds. She didn’t speak much to you or her mother anymore either, but Mary was her confidant. Sometimes she would glance at you, a look of guilt on her face, but it briefly passed whenever her sister or mother made some snide comment about your presence.

Preparing breakfast was easily done. Keeping a portion for yourself on a separate plate, you carried the three other plates into the dining room with practiced ease. Mary squealed with delight, snatching one of the plates from your arm and almost knocking the others out of your grasp in the process. “Oh thank goodness, I’m starved!” she exclaimed, hastily digging in as if she hadn’t eaten in days. You handed a plate to Elizabeth, who seemed to nod slightly as you placed the plate before her. Lady Worthington however, merely sneered as you placed her plate on the table.

You excused yourself from the room and retreated into the kitchen, beginning to eat your portion of the remaining food whilst listening to their gossip quietly. They weren’t quiet by any means, though you supposed that it was in their nature to be loud and obnoxious.

“Mother, did you hear! I heard from Cressida that apparently Lord Bridgerton is looking for a wife this season!” Mary exclaimed, her words muffled likely by the food in her mouth. You heard Elizabeth sigh heavily “I won’t believe it until Lady Whisteldown writes about it-“

“Nonsense!” Lady Worthington cried, interrupting her daughter with a squeal, “If the rumour is true than we are going to take every advantage we can get. The two of you are going to do your damned best get his attention-“

“And what if we don’t, mother? What then?” Elizabeth spoke quietly, almost timidly. You heard Lady Worthington scoff “Oh, you will. We are going out as soon as possible to find you both new dresses for the ball tonight”.

“Oh mother, how exciting!” Mary cried, you could hear the chair scrape harshly against the wooden floorboards as she abruptly stood up from her seat, “We are going to be the most beautiful women at the Ball!”

“Y/N! Help my daughters get dressed! We will be heading out shortly, and make sure that the horses are prepared!” Lady Worthington shouted, the sound of her shrill cry causing a sense of panic to surge through you.

Coughing as you chocked on your food, you quickly wiped your mouth and fixed your skirts. “Yes, right away!” You called back, sighing heavily as you rushed back upstairs. Upon entering Mary’s room, your shoulders slumped in defeat. Clothes lay on almost every inch of the floor, dresses, undergarments, jewellery. This was going to be a tough morning.

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[theonottsbxtch]

it's ok im ok | LN4

an: it's ok im ok by tate mcrae is out and i had this idea the minute i heard it the first time so i've been writing this the last two hours. this was very rushed so please be nice, slight oscar x yn (no use of yn)

written and smau

face claim: pintrest and queen t8

newgirlfriend just posted

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, maxverstappen1 and 159,382 others

oh he's so perfect

**coments have been restricted**

When she’d first broken up with Lando, she’d been distraught. He was the love of her life, or at least she’d thought. For over a month, she’d spent every passing moment reminiscing on all the good parts she could remember of the relationship, but as that month came to a close, the fog began to lift. 

There was no good.

At first there was, there had been the dates, the gifts, the flowers and the continuous travelling alongside her. The texts of ‘I miss you’ and ‘I love you’ at least once a day had diminished into a ‘gn’ and ‘gm’ eleven months into the relationship. 

The affection that once felt so constant had turned into something routine, something obligatory. She’d ignored the signs at first, brushing off the growing distance as just a phase, believing things would eventually go back to how they were in the beginning. But they didn’t.

She remembered the nights when he would cancel plans at the last minute, claiming he was too tired from work, yet his social media was filled with stories of nights out with his friends. The times he’d forgotten important moments — her promotion at work, her 21st birthday, their anniversary. Every time, he had a perfectly reasonable excuse that she had willingly swallowed, desperate to hold onto the image of the man she’d thought he was.

The excuses, the half-hearted apologies, and the lack of effort slowly chipped away at her, until one day, she woke up feeling emptier than ever, wondering where she’d gone wrong. She’d blamed herself, convinced she was being too demanding, too needy.

But now, with some distance, she could see it all for what it was: she’d been in love with an idea of him, a projection of her own desires. The real Lando was far from the prince charming she had made him out to be. He was just a guy who knew how to charm his way through life, good at saying the right things but never following through.

She realised now that the man she’d loved never truly existed; he was a mirage, built from wishful thinking and her own desperation to be loved.

So when Mclaren invited her to celebrate the new season, she took it knowing she was a mature adult, after all he’d moved on. So could she.

“She’s posted him again,” Her best friend spoke from the sofa where she’d been waiting for her to touch up her makeup. “Caption is ‘Oh he’s so perfect’ with some flowers and a teddy bear.”

“Poor girl.” She muttered to herself as she applied some gloss. “She’s still in the honeymoon phase,”

Her best friend hummed and laughed as she continued to scroll through the photos.

Unlike many ex girlfriends, she didn't hate the new girl, no if anything she pitied the next girl and the inevitable one after that, it wasn’t their fault that he acted like the perfect gentleman at the start.

She sighed, putting the lip gloss down and meeting her own eyes in the mirror. "I mean, she’s just like I was," she added, more to herself than to her friend. "I remember thinking he was my perfect match, too. All those little gestures, the compliments, the way he always seemed to know exactly what I wanted to hear. I fell for it, hard."

Her friend glanced up from the phone, a knowing look in her eyes. "Yeah, but you saw through it eventually. And you got out."

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, I did. And I’m not gonna pretend that was easy, but I did it. I’ve just gotta hope she figures it out sooner rather than later."

Her friend grinned. "I bet you’re dying to go up to her tonight and give her a friendly warning."

She laughed at that, shaking her head. "Oh, no. I’m not getting involved unless the opportunity comes up . She won’t listen anyway; no one does when they’re in the thick of it. Besides, it's not my place."

Her friend tilted her head, watching her closely. "You’re really okay with all this?"

She paused for a moment, considering her answer. Was she really okay? Seeing those photos had stirred something in her, but it wasn’t jealousy. It was more like a dull ache, a memory of a wound that had already healed. "I think so," she said finally, smiling a little. "I mean, it still sucks to see, but not in the way it used to. I guess... I’m more relieved than anything. Relieved that it’s not me anymore."

Her friend nodded in approval. "That’s growth, babe. And tonight, we’re gonna celebrate that growth with some champagne and dancing. No thinking about exes, just fun."

She laughed, grabbing her bag and turning to face her friend. "Deal. Now, let’s get out of here before I change my mind."

They headed out the door, a cool breeze greeting them as they stepped into the evening air. As they walked to the car, she glanced at her phone one more time, catching a glimpse of Lando’s face on her social media feed. His arm was around the new girl, that same easy smile on his lips, the same charm in his eyes. But this time, it didn’t sting. It didn’t make her chest tight or her stomach drop. She felt...nothing.

“His teammate was fitter anyway,” At first she hadn’t heard it but when she did, she turned to face her friend, “What? I’m saying what we all saw.”

“I’m not stirring that pot.”

“You’re not but I am.” Her friend laughed as she pulled out of the parking lot, “Think about it, he’ll be there tonight, freshly broken up. Maybe you two can bond over that.”

Her eyes widened as she looked at her friend, “He broke up with his girlfriend?”

“I knew you were interested!”

She rolled her eyes, feeling a flush creep up her neck. "I’m not interested," she insisted, but the hint of a smile played at the corners of her lips, betraying her. "It’s just… surprising, that’s all."

Her friend shot her a knowing look. “Oh, come on. I’ve seen how you look at him. All those race weekends, sneaking glances when you thought no one was watching. You can’t deny it.”

She laughed, a light, genuine sound she hadn’t heard from herself in a while. "You’re imagining things. Besides, just because Lando's teammate is single doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump into something new."

Her friend raised an eyebrow. “Who said anything about jumping? Maybe just dip a toe in. Have fun for once. You deserve it."

She hesitated, biting her lip as the car sped through the city streets. "I don’t know… it just feels too soon."

"Too soon? Or maybe the perfect time?" her friend challenged. "It’s not about replacing Lando. It’s about letting yourself feel good again."

She stared out the window, watching the city lights blur into a kaleidoscope of colours. Her friend was right. She had spent so long grieving over Lando, replaying every mistake and wondering where she went wrong. Maybe it was time to let someone else in, even just a little.

“Okay," she finally said, her voice steady. "If I see him tonight, I’ll talk to him. No expectations, no pressure. Just… a conversation."

Her friend grinned. “Now, that’s the spirit. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find out he’s more than just a pretty face.”

She laughed again, this time with more ease. “Or maybe I’ll find out he’s just another disaster waiting to happen.”

Her friend chuckled, “Only one way to find out.”

By the time they’d pulled up to the club and handed the keys to the valet, there was a solid blush on her cheeks. After all, she had spent the rest of the car ride looking at Oscar’ photos. 

She felt the bass of the music underneath her feet as she and her friend handed their ID’s to the bouncer, waiting as he checked their names off the list.

“Right let me find some virgin cocktail, you go find Oscar.”

“Absolutely not, I’m getting a drink first.”

When they reached the bar, they eyed up the drinks board, everything seemed so tempting. Starting easy she ordered herself a vodka coke. No point trying to talk to Oscar if she was sloshed. 

“Your replacement, 12 o’clock.” She heard her friend shout over her drink.

She turned around, subtly glancing in the direction her friend had pointed. There she was, the new girl — bright-eyed, smiling, and looking like she had the world at her feet. Her heart clenched for a moment, a tiny pang of something she didn’t want to name, but then she felt it ease just as quickly. It wasn’t jealousy; it was almost… nostalgia.

The girl was everything she remembered herself being — full of hope, dressed to impress, standing a little too close to him as if she needed to mark her territory. And there he was, Oscar, just as charming as ever. Leaning in, whispering something that made the girl laugh loudly, the kind of laugh that begged for attention.

Her friend nudged her side. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, swallowing a sip of her drink. “Just feeling pity, really.”

“Well,” her friend prompted, “you gonna say hi or what?”

She took a deep breath. “I think I’ll let them have their moment. Besides, I’m not in the mood to play the ex-girlfriend card tonight.”

Her friend snorted. “What, you don’t want to ruin their Instagram-perfect night?”

She grinned. “Tempting, but no.” She took another sip, feeling the warmth of the alcohol begin to relax her nerves. “Let’s dance, yeah?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

Grabbing her phone off the bar and shoving it down her bra, she took her friend’s hand and brought her to the middle of the dance floor, some Flo Rida song making the walls shake. 

Moving to the beat of the music, she looked as her friend began to dance on her, pulling her hand on her hip as they danced in sync enjoying the moment and ignoring the fact that she could see Lando looking at her and not his new girlfriend.

She felt the bass thump through her chest, each beat syncing with her pulse as she lost herself in the music. Her friend’s laughter was infectious, and she couldn’t help but grin, the tension in her shoulders easing as she swayed to the rhythm.

Lando’s gaze was heavy on her, almost burning through the crowd. She could feel it, a mix of curiosity and maybe a hint of regret. She didn’t look directly at him — not yet. Instead, she let her movements become more carefree, twirling with her friend and raising her arms in the air as the chorus hit. The whole room seemed to pulse with the beat, and she revelled in the feeling of letting go, if only for a moment.

Her friend leaned in, her voice barely audible over the music. “He’s staring,” she said with a sly smile.

She shrugged, flipping her hair back with a casual flick. “Let him,” she replied, her voice loud enough to be heard over the music but still cool and collected.

And then, on a whim, she spun around, facing him across the crowded room. Their eyes met, and she held his gaze for a heartbeat longer than she intended. His expression was unreadable — a mix of surprise, maybe a flicker of something else. But she didn’t want to decipher it; she didn’t care to.

Instead, she raised her drink in a mock toast, a sly smile playing at her lips, before turning her back to him again. She felt a surge of confidence, a quiet thrill in knowing she no longer needed his validation or attention. She was here to have fun, to enjoy the night, not to relive old memories or make a scene.

Her friend noticed the exchange and leaned in again. “You sure you don’t want to give him a piece of your mind?”

She laughed, a real, genuine laugh that felt good in her chest. “Nah, he can watch if he wants. It just shows he’s not as over it as I am.”

She turned her attention back to her friend, giving her a playful spin. “Anyway, I have a much hotter date.”

This time her friend laughed loudly, “Uh huh you do, I’ll go get us refills.”

“I’ll come with,” she offered, even though she was beginning to feel herself in the middle of the crowd.

“No, you just stay here.” Her friend gave her a final wink before disappearing into the crowd, leaving her alone on the dancefloor. The bass of the music pulsed through her, making her heart race in time with the beat. That’s when she spotted Oscar — tall, confident, with a warm smile that seemed to cut through the throng of people. He was one of the few people who had been genuinely kind to her since she’d met him, and there was a sense of magnetic energy between them.

He extended his hand with a charming grin. “May I have this dance?”

Without missing a beat, she placed her hand in his, feeling a thrill of excitement. They moved closer, the heat of their bodies melding together as the music swelled. He guided her into a slow, sensual dance, their movements smooth and synchronised. His hands rested lightly on her hips, and she could feel the tension of his touch, a mix of confidence and tenderness. Overlapping her hands on his, she tightened his grip on her hips.

As they danced, she felt a rush of freedom, the worries and old feelings from earlier dissolving into the rhythm. She glanced to her side and caught a glimpse of Lando across the room. He was watching them, his expression a mixture of surprise and frustration. For a moment, their eyes locked, and she saw the flash of jealousy in his gaze. She raised an eyebrow slightly, a smirk playing on her lips as if to say, “Look at me now.”

Returning her focus to the Oscar, she let herself be completely immersed in the moment. His touch was intoxicating, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her feel desired and cherished. They moved together effortlessly, each step and sway adding to the intimate connection they were building on the dancefloor.

Oscar leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “You look amazing tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “I mean you always have, but tonight things are different aren’t they?”

She shivered at his words, the tension between them palpable. She responded with a soft laugh, her fingers trailing up to his neck as she whispered back, “They are, aren’t they?”

As the song reached its climax, they pulled closer, their bodies pressed together in a way that felt both exhilarating and soothing. She let herself be lost in the sensation, feeling a newfound sense of liberation and sensuality. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in their own private dance.

The song ended, but they stayed close, their breaths mingling. “I’m going to the bathroom, but I’ll see you here for round two?” she said, trying to be heard over the music.

“I won’t go anywhere,” he replied with a teasing smile, his voice like velvet. She wanted to linger in his warmth a moment longer, but she knew she needed to regroup. The minute she snapped out of her trance, she found the bar and her friend, dragging her to the nearest bathroom.

Finding the handicap stall, she pulled them inside and slumped against the wall, grabbing her drink out of her friend’s hand.

“Fuck me,” she whispered, her voice a mix of exhilaration and happiness.

“I am not Oscar, but I’m sure he would if you asked nicely,” her friend quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

She let out a tired laugh, shaking her head. “Not what I meant. I just… I don’t know. It’s weird being back in this place. Wow. That dance - I.”

Her friend gave her a knowing look. “At least give me a heads up if I’m going to drive home alone tonight.”

As she took another sip of her drink, she heard the bathroom door swing open, followed by the sound of animated giggling. It was Lando's new girlfriend, chattering excitedly with a friend. Her voice carried through the thin bathroom walls, brimming with admiration.

“Oh my god, he’s just so perfect!” she gushed. “I can’t believe how lucky I am. He’s got everything—charm, looks, and he’s so sweet. I feel like I’m in a dream.”

Her friend raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. “Are you okay?”

Suppressing a laugh, she stood up and pushed open the door to the cubicle. As she emerged, she locked eyes with Lando’s new girlfriend in the mirror.

“Hey there,” she said, her voice smooth yet edged with cool detachment. “So, which version of him is perfect, the off-season version or the regular season?”

The new girlfriend blinked, visibly startled. Her smile faltered, and she looked momentarily confused. “Uh, I don’t really understand what you mean.”

She could sense her best friend trying hard not to laugh behind her. Shrugging lightly, she maintained a mix of sympathy and detachment in her gaze. “Just a thought. Sometimes people have different sides to them, you know? What you’re seeing now might not be the whole picture.”

Before the new girlfriend could respond, her friend besides her chimed in . “You’re just jealous.”

She turned, a knowing smile on her lips. “Oh, sweetie, it’s okay. I’m perfectly fine. After all, I had him first.” Without giving the new girlfriend a chance to reply, she gently but firmly guided her friend out of the bathroom and back into the club.

As they re-entered the lively atmosphere, her friend grinned at her. “That was hot.”

She chuckled, feeling a sense of empowerment and closure. “Glad you think so. Let’s enjoy the rest of the night.”

ynprivate just posted

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, yourbestfriend and 38 others

it's ok im ok

**comments have been restricted**

[porcelian]

CARNATION LETTERS

pairing: Jason Todd ✗ gn!reader.

summary: In which Jason, struggling with words, leaves you heartfelt notes hidden in bouquets of carnations, each one revealing more of his feelings for you.

warnings: none, just fluff and the authors poor knowledge of flowers, ++ no proofreading my head hurts way to much for that :⁠-⁠[

word count: 1.2k.

notes: sorry for my inactivity for the past few days. i wasn't feeling so well. though here is the fic idea that won the last vote! i really like this one, i hope you guys will as well. idk ab the color meanings when it comes to carnations, i tried my best here (⁠T⁠T⁠)

♯ MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION

You’d always heard that love was in the little things—the small, thoughtful gestures that spoke louder than words ever could.

The fleeting touch of a lover on ones back when in a crowd, the shy, stolen glances, the nervous, shaking attempts at holding their hands in ones own.

You think that Jason's love is a garden, carefully tended and nurtured. It started with seeds of trust and affection, growing slowly but steadily with time and care. Like flowers, it bloomed in different seasons, offering sweet gestures to you–the love of his life.

For you, those gestures came in the form of carnations, delicate and vibrant, appearing at the most unexpected times.

Whether it was in the quiet of a morning, the stillness of night, or a surprise that broke the monotony of your day, Jason had a way of making you feel cherished without needing to say a word.

Each bouquet carried with it a note, sometimes playful, sometimes sincere, but always filled with the emotions he found difficult to express otherwise.

And each time you found one, it was as if the world around you paused, allowing you to savor the moment, knowing that Jason’s heart was in every petal.

*****

The morning sun filtered through the curtains as you shuffled into the kitchen, still half-asleep.

On the table, next to your coffee mug, was a small bouquet of carnations tied with a simple ribbon.

As you reached for the note, Jason’s voice interrupted your thoughts. 'Good morning,' he murmured from the doorway, his arms crossed casually, a soft smile on his lips.

'Do you like them?' he asked, watching as you unfolded the note, your heart warming at his thoughtful gesture.

At times like this you felt a feeling so strong and warm envelope your heart, you couldn't speak a word.

'Remember that day we spent in the park? These carnations reminded me of that. Can’t wait to make more memories with you.'

Still holding the bouquet in your hands, your touch would softly graze the petals.

'I love them.' You softly spoke, 'let's go out today, I want to start making even more memories with you.'

*****

A knock at your door broke the quiet of your afternoon. Opening it, you found Jason leaning against the doorframe, a bouquet of carnations in one hand, and a casual smirk on his face.

'I thought you might need a pick-me-up,' he said, passing you the flowers. 'And maybe some company?' You stepped aside to let him in, the familiar warmth of his presence making the day instantly brighter.

Perhaps it was instinct, because as soon as the bouquet was in your hands your eyes started searching for the note. Nestled in the white–red colored petals of the carnations was a small note.

'Your company is always welcomed.' you gave him small smile while opening and reading the note.

'Thought you might need something pretty to look at today, besides me, of course.'

You let out a small chuckle. Jason's smile almost reaches his eyes as he watches you.

'Feeling cheeky, aren't we?' you said, 'I prefer looking at you, though.'

'You're lucky I'm here then, aren't you?' he replies, while taking your hands in his and bringing you closer.

'That I am.'

*****

You were getting ready for bed when you heard a soft knock at your window. Peeking out, you found Jason standing there, a lopsided grin on his face.

'Need some company?' he asked, climbing inside with surprising ease, a bouquet of carnations in hand.

'Couldn't sleep without seeing you first,' he admitted, handing you the flowers.

As you took them, his fingers brushed yours, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

'You're lucky you brought me the flowers, or I wouldn't have let you in.' you teased.

'Using the door is overrated.' he let out a small laugh, teal–green eyes shifting from the flowers to you. He gestured for you to read the note.

'You know, these carnations aren’t half as beautiful as you, but I figured they’d do until I get back.'

You could feel the heat slowly rise to your cheeks after reading the note, a dopey grin covers your face. Damn him and his smart mouth. By the way Jason proudly smiled at you, he probably saw your flustered reaction too.

His heart sings everytime he sees you happy, everytime he manages to make you shy or bold with his gifts. He'll do it all over again, just for you to smile.

*****

You were sorting through old boxes when you found it—a dried bouquet of carnations, carefully preserved. As you held them, Jason walked into the room, noticing the flowers in your hands.

'You kept those?' he asked, a mix of surprise and affection in his voice. 'I didn’t think they’d mean that much to you.'

You looked up at him, the memory of that moment still fresh in your mind. 'They do,' you replied softly, setting the flowers down as he came closer, his hand resting gently on your shoulder.

'They mean so much to me.' you say softly. 'Every one of them are a reminder of you and your love. They mean as much to me as much as I seek out your love.'

Your words seem to make him speechless. They ring in his mind again and again. The sound of them covers him in a feeling of warmth he can't explain.

So he let's his hand rest on your cheek. It's a small gesture. The calloused feel familiar on your skin. You feel your skin warm up at his touch. You bring your hand to cover his.

No words are needed. Everything said in the small gestures between you and Jason.

The note lays next to the red–pink carnations. The ink dark red dances across the dusty paper.

'You make my world a better place, and I’m so grateful for you.'

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[killuintense]

could you write a one shot of Leon and fem!reader talking about having a baby together? Leon assuming he would have to go easy on the alcohol and y/n happy to give Leon baby plsss ily<3 vvvv

❝ baby fever ❞

leon kennedy x fem!reader.

summary: the idea of confessing to you that incessant idea in his head to tell you that you would be an excellent mother, was consuming Leon.

content: 1.3k words, fluff, mention of pregnancy, a very cheesy and sweet Leon, mention of alcoholism, comfort.

note: i loved placing your request, thank you very much for making it and i hope you enjoy it, ilyyyy ♡ ♡

The night seemed to be calm and typical for that season of the year. The breeze was gently breezing and ruffling Leon's ashen hair as he quietly opened the door of the house without trying to make too much noise. It wasn't too late, but he didn't want to be loud, especially after spending all day at the main D.S.O. base taking care of paperwork and reports after his last assignment at Alcatraz prison. He laughed when he remembered your concern the moment you learned that he had been infected by a virus, blaming you for not accompanying him as you usually did being an important agent of the association.

"Ahmmm..." he heard a soft sound emitted by you from the kitchen and soon remembered that little detail. Your best friend had asked you as a last minute favor to babysit her baby for that whole day as family problems had arisen. She remembered the image of the morning. You, holding in your arms that little girl with golden hair and chubby cheeks, you and your look of love and tenderness. Leon would bet that he had never seen you make that face before, and a strange feeling welled up in his chest. Almost as if from his heart exploding in a feverish sense of need it was present "So goood, what a good girl, you like applesauce, don't you?" a complicit chuckle let itself be heard and Leon hesitated to enter the kitchen where your voice came from. He hesitated because he knew that if he came in and saw you behaving in such a natural and loving way with the little baby, many incoherent words and impulsive ideas would come out of his mouth.

However, the day had been long enough without wanting to see his beloved so he didn't hesitate to leave his blue leather jacket hanging in the entrance and enter the kitchen, watching how you held little Rosemary in your arms and gave her that preparation with enthusiasm "My love..." it almost came out in a sigh, and you admired it with surprise.

"Leon!" the excitement could be heard in your voice and dazzled in your eyes "I didn't hear the door, I'm sorry I didn't welcome you, Honey" you smiled and took the baby's little hand to improvise a greeting to Leon. He could feel his face heat up and if it wasn't for the baby on top of you, he would have run to lock you in his arms, sinking into a kiss that only he was capable of giving you. Before he could speak any more, though, the doorbell rang and soon you both realized that it was probably your friend finally showing up as promised.

He could see the disappointment in your eyes, knowing that if it was for you you could have her for another day playing with your cheeks as she laughed with amusement; and the blond wondered if he couldn't fall more in love, wondered if his love for you would make him explode. He needed to make you more his than you already were. He needed to sink into you in a different way and mark you, leave something of him forever in you.

"I really wish she would have stayed longer" you mentioned once the baby joyfully welcomed her mother's arms "You know you can trust me if you need help again" you offered and exchanged words of encouragement with your friend, cheering her up and congratulating her on having such a beautiful baby. Leon also waved, stood behind you with that soft smile he was only naturally able to do when he had you around. But he wasn't being enough. He wanted to close the damn door and tell you about that crazy idea that had been going around in his head since that morning he saw you with a little baby in your arms, about that feeling that invaded him when he took you by the waist hugging you and leaving a kiss on your lips and a soft caress on the little one's cheek before saying goodbye and leaving for work. He felt for the first time the feeling of a.... family. A family he only wanted to have if it was with you.

"Ah..." once you closed the door you stretched and yawned, hanging on the back of Leon's neck to hug him tightly "I really miss you today, big boy" you teased at the nickname, depositing a kiss on his jawline as scarred as it was rough, feeling the stubble of a couple of days unshaven.

"I missed you more..." he seemed as self-absorbed as ever, moving his hands from your waist to your belly, caressing it gently. It caught your attention that he would do that, of course, but you assumed he was affectionate because of the distance and remoteness that had consumed you during that week due to work. But you didn't think that Leon's mind was wandering in a need so primitive that it even saddened him "You really would make an excellent mother" he suddenly blurted out, staring at you as he gently bumped his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, sorry for pushing you into that situation.

"Is that a proposal, Kennedy?" you smiled, you loved it when he got shy like that. That remembered you when he was younger and still didn't know how to handle himself, how he wasn't able to carry all the traumas he had on his shoulders. "Leon... do you really think I would make a good mother?" you asked unsurely, a pressure in your chest made as it dawned on you that Leon wanted you to be the mother of his children. That he wanted to take that step with you.

"Obviously! Fuck, sometimes I find myself thinking about that too much" he smiled, kissing your cheek repeatedly causing you to giggle in amusement "Can you imagine? A little girl running all over the house, accompanying us everywhere, laughing and being happy..." his voice trailed off softly and he smiled "Being happy like we would have liked to be at some point. Not thinking about abandonment and the sadness of not having a home to return to" he squeezed your waist, as if trying to be aware that you were there, that you hadn't faded away. "And I know that last year was terrible... but I need to start again, I need to forget that I can drown my sorrows in alcohol" he murmured, ashamed of himself.

"Leon..." you took his cheek and smiled, kissing his lips softly "You'll make an excellent father, you know that, don't you?" a sparkle came into Leon's eyes, almost as if the hope of a future was opening in front of him, holding your hand, happy to move forward "Although to be honest, I'd like a mini Leon" you laughed, brushing your nose against his, in a sweet Eskimo kiss.

"If it's with you I wouldn't mind having a litter of mini Leons" he joked, though in a corner of his mind his almost animal instinct thought that if you let him he was capable of filling you completely until you couldn't take any more. 'We're not rabbits... for now' he thought, and chuckled to himself before he felt you pull away to go to the kitchen.

"Especially since I'm sure if she grows up to be a girl, she's going to be a spoiled daddy's princess" you said loud enough for him to hear and started cleaning up the dishes you had messed up during the day. Soon a giggle came closer and Leon's soft footsteps came into view, catching you around the waist as he let out a mocking sigh in your ear, sending a burst of electricity down your spine.

"Don't be like that, if you love that I spoil you, mh" he kissed your neck and you couldn't help but feel your body temper. You wouldn't give up that feeling of need for anything, that feeling of Leon wanting and having the instinct to take you in a way beyond what himself could have thought. You couldn't wait for the day to come, to one day have the privilege of having a seed of him growing inside you.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

best friends dad part three

words: 900

warnings: 18+ only!, extreme age gap, cheating, semi public sex?, kind of caught, p in v sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink

part one / part two / part three

“what were you doing in there again?” your friend stares at you, like she knows the truth but her mind won't let her accept it.

“in where?” you question, looking at your nails like her probing doesn't bother you, like it isn't clear of her suspicion growing, asking about the incident that happened last week.

“in the bathroom. with my dad.” she clarifies.

“oh, i told you already, didn't i?” you scrunch your brows together, like she's the weird one for asking. “i got a splinter in my foot and he was helping get it out.”

you're not sure it's the best story, but it's the first one you came up with when she caught you, rafes cum flooding inside you despite his daughter just feet away, separated by a thin wooden door.

“okay.” she mumbles. 

you know despite her questions that she wouldn't dare accuse you or flat out ask if you're fucking her father. you've been through too much together, and she's far too naive.

it's why you're not worried about slipping out of her room when she falls asleep that night, sharing a bed like you always do for your sleepovers.

hallway. you message rafe. you remember the first time you got his number, it was middle school softball season. you would occasionally text him asking for rides home when he picked up his daughter.

rafe is out of his room in a second, a panicked look on his face.

“she could have been awake.” he whispers, eyes wide.

“but she wasn't.” you roll your eyes, not sure what the dramatics are about when his wife didn't see the text.

“what do you want? i told you we can't keep doing this, we almost got caught.”

“i want you to fuck me.” you pull your pajama shorts down your legs, showing rafe that you're wearing nothing underneath. “right here in this hallway.”

“god, this is so fucking wrong.” rafe shakes his head, voice still a whisper as he pulls his cock out from his pants, not disrobing as much as you out of fear of getting caught.

“you say that every time.” you roll your eyes. “yet still cum inside me.”

“shut up.” rafe grunts, pushing you against the wall, your best friends room on the other side, a fact rafe knows too well as he tries his best to be quiet.

rafe picks you up easily, your legs wrapping around his waist as his already hard cock lines up with your entrance. truth is, he is constantly half hard when he knows you're over, just waiting for you to entice him into sex.

“when was the last time you fucked someone like this, huh?” you smirk as rafe pushes inside of you, your walls being stretched by his length.

“was it when your wife was my age?” you ask. truth is, you don't even know when rafe and his wife met and if it was that young, but you love the way he fucks you faster every time you bring up his marriage.

“your pussy-” rafe grunts out, struggling to keep himself quiet. “your pussy is so fucking good.”

“mhm.” you nod. “and your cock is perfect, daddy. love having you inside me.”

rafe shoves his head into your shoulder to hold back his moans as his hips rock into yours, your nails pressing into his back over his shirt, hoping you leave marks he has to stammer to explain to his wife.

you wonder what it would take for them to divorce. what his wife's reaction would be if she caught you in the act. would it be enough to break up the family?

“touch my clit.” you command. rafe quickly listens, moving his hands from holding your hips up to wrapping one around your waist, the other moving between your legs, rubbing his thumb over your clit.

“that's so good, daddy. gonna cum for me?”

“yeah, close.” rafe warns, his cock pulsing inside of you.

“good.” you smile. “cum inside me. fill up my tight young pussy.”

rafe presses his mouth further into your skin as he moans, cum pumping inside of you in a steady stream, triggering your own orgasm as his warmth spreads, not as quiet with your moans as his thumb continues to stroke your clit through your high.

“fucking hell, that was too risky.” rafe shakes his head. “we can't keep fucking like this.”

“you'll keep coming for me every time i call. you're mine.” you tell rafe as he slowly lowers you, making sure you don't wobble as he sets your feet back firmly on the floor.

“im yours.” rafe says sadly, tucking his cock back into his pants while you pull your shorts back on, knowing you're about to ruin them with cum.

“now give me a kiss goodnight, daddy.” you pucker your lips, rafe pressing a chaste kiss against them. you don't wait to see him go back into his shared bedroom with his wife as you sneak back into his daughters room.

as you lay down back next to her in bed, your eyes adjust to the low light, suddenly haunting your movements when you realize she's awake and staring at you, a hurt look in her eyes.

she knows.

you continue your actions, letting out a sigh of relief when she doesn't say anything. doesn't confess. doesn't get mad, simply rolls over so her back is to you.

you smirk to yourself. she may know, but she won't tell.

taglist: @urfavnoirette @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @bratetteprincess @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @die4niyahhh @mysticallystilinski @https-luvvia @aerangi @folklorsweet

[bad268]

hey! hope you are well. I was thinking of an idea for a Kimi Antonelli x reader story and as you write for him the best I knew you would write it so well.

maybe reader is toto's daughter, and her and kimi are in a relationship. but y/n can't make it to the last race of the season but she ends up surprising him after the race (she was there the whole time) and he runs to her and its all adorable and everyone is clapping?

just a thought!

love your work!

Couldn't Keep Me Away (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Wolff! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (I think I cooked too much with this lol...)

Warnings: sick! reader, mentions cough medicine

POV: Second Person (You/your/She/her)

W.C. 1956

Summary: She's never missed a race…until now?

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(@/Kimi’s insta from February 13, 2024)

It all came down to this. Not in the literal sense, more along the lines of it was the last race of the season. The team’s champions and driver’s championship had already been decided, so there was nothing to lose in this race. Well, except his sanity.

You had been at every race this season. Not because of your father, Toto Wolff. Actually, maybe that played a part, but you were always in the Prema garage. He could not remember what it was like to not have you in the garage between practice and qualifying or during pre-race shenanigans. 

When you were not on track for media day, he knew something was up. Yes, he knew you hated media day because it was boring, but it was also the day you had the most time together since the F1 teams and drivers were more popular interviewees. He tried texting and calling you only to receive nothing in response. He knew what he was going to have to do.

Speak to your father. 

He decided to stop by before the sprint race. Walking into the Mercedes garage, he spotted your father immediately and standing beside him, your mother, Susie, and brother, Jack. He suddenly knew that you should have been here too. The only reason you gave him in the past for why you may need to miss a race was to watch your brother. You never did miss a race, but there was always the possibility.

He swallowed his concern, not needing to worry yet, as he walked up to your family. He waited for them to finish their conversation before he tapped on Toto’s shoulder. Immediately, Toto turned around to meet Kimi’s worried eyes.

“Kimi, is there something wrong?” Toto asked, sensing Kimi’s anxiousness, but chalking it up to the upcoming race. “Is it the race?”

“No…I mean, kind of?” Kimi answered but immediately contradicted himself. It was much more different talking to Toto about you than about racing. Despite knowing that both of your parents are aware of your relationship, he tried his best to only talk to Toto about racing whenever they were on the track. This was a first for Kimi, and he just did not know how he wanted to go about asking. Finally, after receiving multiple uneasy looks from Susie and Toto, Kimi took a deep breath before just deciding to go for it. “Do you know where she is? She’s not answering my texts or calls, and I’m getting worried.”

“Oh, Kimi, she’s sick,” Susie jumped in. She knew exactly who he wanted to know about, so she showed him a text from you that said you took some medicine and would try to sleep it off. “She’s been sick almost all week. I thought she told you.”

“Oh, have she sent any updates recently? Do you know how she’s feeling?” Kimi rushed. Looking back, he realized that every time he texted you, it would have been late back at home, so it made sense that you did not respond. Plus, to add the sickness on top of it? He felt like shit for not catching it earlier.

“That was the last text I received,” Susie said, sadly. Toto stepped away as he got a call, leaving Kimi and Susie to talk while Jack was distracted by Mick. “It was sent a few hours ago, so she might be awake now. You could call her?”

“No need,” Toto said as he walked back over, holding out the phone to Kimi. “Someone wants to talk to you.”

Hesitantly, Kimi took the phone and saw your name as the caller ID. He looked back up at Toto and Susie as they turned their backs to him and walked toward the pit wall to give him a little privacy. Immediately, Kimi raised the phone to his ear, “Amore (love)? How are you feeling? I heard you were sick. Are you staying hydrated?”

He gets cut off hearing you giggle lightly before descending into a light coughing fit. He smiled lightly for a second before growing concerned once again when he heard you cough. “Slow down, liebe (love). I am feeling better, just a few coughs here and there.”

“That didn’t sound like ‘a few coughs here and there,’” He mocked lightheartedly but in all seriousness. 

“That’s because you triggered it,” you laughed again. This time, able to hold back the coughs, just needing to clear your throat before you talk again. “I promise, I’m doing better. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“As long as you’re feeling better,” He sighed, knowing you’re alright now. Off to the side, he sees his race engineer looking for him, so he realizes that he needs to wrap up the call with you to race. “Keep resting, amore. I have to go race now, but I’ll call you after, I promise.”

“I’ll be watching, liebe,” you smiled to yourself, and Kimi could hear it too. “Good luck, Kimi. Give the phone back to my dad, please?”

With that, he walked up to Toto again to hand him the phone before disappearing with his engineer. Toto raised the phone, chuckling lightly at Kimi’s rush as he greeted his daughter. 

“Can I be on the first flight out? I feel better.”

~~

Kimi had a horrible sprint race. He was already starting in 10th because he was on pole for the feature race, but he became collateral damage in a fight between a couple of cars further back. It was the last lap too! They were all outside the points, so there really was no point in racing that hard. However, that’s what happened. 

He did his best to hide his disappointment as he walked past the engineers to the driver’s room he shared with Ollie, who was already there because of a tire blowout from one of the earlier laps. Kimi started changing out of his race suit and into his normal clothes, just wanting to sleep the race off. 

“Your phone went off a few minutes ago,” Ollie said, breaking the silence and catching Kimi’s attention as he threw a Mercedes shirt over his head. “And don’t blame yourself. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Plus, it’s not like this race mattered. You already won the championship, we won the team championship, and you have a seat for next year.”

“Thanks, Ollie, but that’s not the point,” Was he lying? Partly, but there was some truth. He was upset at the race result, but he was also still slightly bummed that you were not there. Thinking of you, he wanted to call you.

Kimi looked through his bag for his phone, finding it with no problems. He noticed the number of notifications, but the only one that mattered to him was the one from you. It was a few minutes prior and it read, “I’m so sorry liebe! That crash was nasty, I hope you’re okay. I just took more medicine, so I might be asleep by the time you finish post-race media. I’ll call you when I wake up. Ich liebe dich (I love you).”

He sent a quick response, telling you he was alright and he loved you. Then, he went about the rest of his day. And the rest of his night. And the next morning. At that point, he started getting nervous again since you were not responding again. What kind of medicine were you taking that knocked you out for 12 hours, he thought. 

He wanted to go back to your parents again, but the feature race prep was different compared to the sprint. He did not have the same break he did with the sprint. Ever since he got to the track, he was warming up and prepping for the final race. He was nervous given the result the day before. He did not want to end the season on a double DNF, especially when he was going to get an F1 seat the following season in a Mercedes. He had to score well in the race.

If he had found a way to get to the Mercedes garage, he would have seen you sitting with your brother while your parents had a last-minute meeting. And if Kimi had been in any other starting position, he would have seen you walk into the Prema garage with Jack. Pole position was different though because they needed to do more interviews and promo pictures. If Kimi could have seen around his car from his grid box, he would have seen you sitting on the pit wall.

The race started without a hitch, Kimi was back in his groove, and it was clear to see that he was confident in his moves again. Sure, he was not fighting anyone for position, but there were a couple of times when he had to defend. He did so perfectly, and it made people wonder if the sprint race was just a one-off day for him. It was all worth it when he crossed the finish line first again.

The team immediately ran to Parc Ferme to wait for the cars as they scored a Prema 1-2. Kimi pulled into the first spot, Ollie into the second, and Victor in the third. Ollie and Victor jumped out of their cars immediately, running to their teams, but Kimi took a minute. This win should have felt good, especially after the disaster that was the sprint race, but it didn’t.

It was fun to win, but he was going to have to jump out of the car and celebrate with his team. Just his team. This is the first race you were not going to be there celebrating with him, and he would rather delay the inevitable. 

You could feel his hesitance to get out of the car, so you handed Jack over to your parents as you pulled up your mask and pushed through the people to get to the gate. You got there relatively easily considering you went through the Prema team, and they knew you would be the first person he’d want to see.

Kimi finally climbed out and stood on top of his car, posing for the camera momentarily. Then, his attention shifted to his team, and he froze. You were there! He’d recognize those eyes anywhere! Of course, you made it. He jumped off of the car and flung himself over the barrier to wrap you in his arms.

“You made it. I can’t believe you made it,” He whispered over and over, not even bothering to question if you could hear him through his helmet. That’s when he remembered, so he pulled back to take his helmet and balaclava off as well as his gloves. He put the back of his hand against your forehead to check your temperature, causing you to laugh. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m seeing if you’ve got a fever.”

“I’m all good, my fever broke yesterday,” You consoled as you pulled his hand off of your forehead to hold it as you kissed his cheek through your mask. “I’m all good. The mask is just a precaution.”

“Screw precaution, I wanna kiss you,” Kimi whined as he pulled the mask down to give you a long kiss. Despite not actually hearing it, the team all started clapping and F1 TV definitely got a good shot of you two. When he pulled away, he put the mask back on for you as he leaned his head against yours. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

“You couldn’t keep me away even if you tried,” You whispered back, leaning up to bump your nose against his, “I’ll always find a way to be here for you.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[pierregazly]

tolerate it ꨄ lewis hamilton

lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: age gap (no specific age, just mentioned), angst, no hea

this is just me projecting my sadness with this song onto one of the drivers, lewis being the best option. there's a chance i may do a part 2 to this eventually, but im pretty content with how it ended for now. i hope you enjoy!

It wasn’t always like this.  

There was a time when you didn’t wake up, clenching your eyes closed in the hopes that it would magically change the outcome once they opened.  

There was a time when you would wake up, Lewis nuzzling his chin into the space where your neck and shoulders collided, peppering the skin with little kisses in the hopes it would wake you from your slumber. 

There was a time when you didn’t have to hold your breath, when your eyes didn’t have to adjust to the lack of light in the room, just to get a small glimpse of the man you loved curled up next to you.  

It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment when it had all changed. Maybe it was at the beginning of the season, maybe it was before that. You couldn’t really be too sure. 

Now, you were lucky to catch a glimpse of him in the morning, lucky to even get the chance to move your eyes across his ink-coloured skin beside you. You were lucky to even get a kiss goodbye in the morning before he left, the sun barely up when he was leaving to go to training, or the factory, or God knows where.  

The words between the both of you were minimal nowadays, it was more like living with a roommate you saw occasionally instead of a lover that you were supposed to be sharing a life with.  

There was a time when Lewis would giggle as he read the words of his books to you in whatever animated voice he could come up with. There was a time when the art he created was a joint effort between the two of you; now, it felt like all he did was tolerate you. 

It was evident neither you, nor Lewis, wanted to touch on the topic. Both of you tiptoed around each other, not wanting to open the door that would push the storm in.  

There isn’t much time spent at the paddock anymore, your career becoming the main focus of your priorities. You still welcomed Lewis home after every Grand Prix, his favourite dinner’s packaged in the fridge, the linens cleaned, and his clothes prepped.  

A battle hero’s welcome, one could call it. 

He always politely thanked you, a gentle kiss to your forehead before he made his way to the office for the remainder of the night. There was a time when he would debrief with you after every race, watching highlight videos on the television while he explained what he did wrong, what he did right, where he could improve and where he got a little too cocky. Now he just did it alone, the door of his office tightly closed, no sound emitting from the room. 

Sugarcoating it to your friends and family was difficult. They understood Lewis’ career took center stage, but they couldn’t understand why he was never around when they came to your shared apartment, why it felt like his presence wasn’t even prominent in the home at all. 

There was no way to explain it, without sounding naïve, without sounding like you were just letting a relationship that was drowning, pull you down with it. 

Everyone suggested different reasons. The season wasn’t going in the way Lewis had hoped. Maybe his age is finally getting to him. Maybe he’s considering retirement and it’s bothering him. Maybe the age difference between the two of you is too much now.  

Maybe he’s fallen out of love. 

You knew the last one was a significant possibility. Lewis was a private person, but he showed his heart on his shoulder, especially at the beginning. Large declarations of love, obnoxious presents, at first, he wanted you to know that he was in love with you, constantly. 

There isn’t a time in the last four months that you can remember where Lewis demonstrated his love for you, quick ‘love you’s’ before the door slammed behind him, a random heart in the middle of the night when he’s halfway across the world; even those had slowly stopped. 

Nowadays he would hum silently when you told him you loved him, he would send a heart back if you sent one to him. He didn’t initiate anything, it just simply felt like he was tolerating it when you expressed your love for him. 

It wasn’t hard to remember the times when Lewis would tell you how much he loved you, how he would show it.  

He would curl up behind you in bed, the unmade sheets wrapped lazily around the two of you as he groaned into your neck, his hands resting around your middle as he eagerly cuddled up to you. 

You could always feel him mumbling words into your neck, but he would never tell you what he was saying. Lewis would just smile and press a tiny kiss to your lips, the kiss heating up as time went on, your bodies moving in sync as he demonstrated his love for you in every way he knew how. 

You weren’t a self-conscious person, you knew you had plenty to offer when it came to your relationship, and when it came to life in itself. You knew your love should be celebrated, celebrated in the way that Lewis used to celebrate it, the way he used to giggle as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, gently swaying to the music coming from his phone as you cooked together. 

You tried to push the negative thoughts away, the thoughts of leaving, of packing up your bags and leaving in the middle of the weekend while he was away. You considered it, time and time again. The suitcases staring at you from the closet, telling you to open them, pack them, and leave. 

Every weekend the temptation grew stronger and stronger. The urge to walk away, to preserve your dignity, sat heavy on your shoulders.  

Every time when you thought you had decided, thought you had made the decision to pull the dagger out and walk away; an invisible force pulled you back. Told you that the season was slowly coming to its end, that the old Lewis would come back to you when the season was up, he was just stressed out and things were hard. 

He never talked about his problems with you. He would debrief with you, sure. He would tell you about the problems in the race, but he would never tell you about his internal problems.  

It’s how you constantly justified his behaviour, and his actions... or lack thereof.  

Your mind always went back to those thoughts when you considered leaving. It always made you think about the fact that he was probably struggling, that he just wasn’t able to talk to you about it and that you leaving would probably make things worse. 

It was the invisible but obvious force, that, you knew. 

Lewis didn’t know about these thoughts. At least he never showed that he knew. The bags were always tucked away in the back of the closet when he returned home, like they were never sitting in front of the open door. Everything was back in their rightful place, as if the thought of leaving had never crossed your mind.  

One of your favourite moments with him happened just before the beginning of the season. You were cuddled up on the couch, the remnants of a ‘Game of Thrones’ episode playing on the television, Lewis’ hand gently creating shapes on the visible skin of your back.  

“Do you ever feel like you’re too old, or like... too wise for me? Like someone closer to your age would be better?” 

You felt him huff against your neck, a small laugh falling from his lips before he pressed a kiss to the spot his lips were before shaking his head. 

“Are you calling me old, my love?” 

Immediately shaking your head with a tiny laugh, you slapped his chest with a gleam in your eyes. “You know what I meant, Lew...” 

Rolling you over, he leaned over you as he pushed a lock of his own unruly hair behind his ear. “I rarely think about the fact you’re younger than me. It doesn’t affect the way in which I love you, half the time I forget that you’re younger than me. I definitely don’t think I’m wiser, that’s for sure. It’s pretty obvious who has all the wisdom between the two of us.” 

The night ended with you below him, the sheets rustling, as if all the love he had for you could be encaptured in the way his eyes connected with yours. You had never felt that kind of raw love before, had never felt like everything you had done had led to that exact moment. 

Trying to convince yourself that everything happening now was all in your mind was easy. The comments that your friends made, that maybe he didn’t love you anymore; was easy enough to ignore when you considered the fact that he did still reply to your messages, that he still came home every Sunday, that he still sometimes pressed a kiss to your forehead before leaving in the morning.  

But then sometimes you let your mind reel, and reel, and reel. Lewis was there, but was he really there? 

The conversation almost happened, after Spa. Lewis was exhausted coming into your shared apartment, his bags dropping down at the front door. You were wrapped up in one of his Mercedes sweaters, his racing number engraved on the sleeves; even if he was there physically and not mentally, you had still made him your everything, you had made him your mural, had dedicated the sky to him. 

The pictures on the walls still showed a love between the two of you that wasn’t obvious anymore. The picture of you wrapped around him after the end of the 2020 season. The pictures of the both of you cuddled around each other at his family Christmas, the collage of his nephews wrapped in your arms. There were hundreds of photos that showed how life used to be. 

Your mind came back to the present when Lewis crossed the path in front of you. 

Like always, he went to press a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, the exhaustion prevalent on his face. As he was walking towards his office, you felt the words bubble out of your mouth before you could control them. 

“Did you want to watch this with me? I feel like we haven’t really spent much time together lately.” 

The words stopped him in his tracks, you could practically see the wheels turning in his head as his body turned in your direction. It felt like his face was mocking you with its fake sympathy as he gently shook his head, his curls moving with the direction. 

“I’m just too tired. I have to go watch highlights in my office. Maybe later.” 

It was always ‘maybe later’, or ‘maybe tomorrow’, or ‘I’m sorry we can’t celebrate our anniversary this year, I just don’t have time this weekend, maybe next weekend’.  

It felt like you were begging him for a spot in his life, like you were an inconvenience that he didn’t want to put the effort into anymore. By now, you weren’t even begging for a line in the story, but a line in the footnotes of his life. A minuscule part, something that he couldn’t even try to give you.  

Lewis made it clear he felt bad after he bailed on your anniversary. He spent hundreds of dollars on you, basically begging you for forgiveness and emphasizing things would be different soon, he promised. 

He was right, things were different. Not in a good way. Maybe that was the point when things really started going downhill. It was still hard to pinpoint it. 

Making yourself scarce when Lewis was home was easy. Your friends were always looking for you to go for lunch, or dinner, or out for drinks. Spending your time at work was always an easy escape, allowing the never-ending flow of work to occupy your thoughts as you went above and beyond. 

If Lewis noticed that you were avoiding him, avoiding your home; he didn’t say anything. He never said anything. 

Spending the weekends at home was therapeutic, your arms wrapped in another one of Lewis’ oversized sweaters. The smell of his cologne wafting up your noise as you pressed the sleeve to your face, the unshed tears refusing to leave your eyes. You wouldn’t cry, not again. 

You knew you would cry, again. You always let the tears fall when you scrolled back up in your conversation with Lewis to when things first started, when he was animated, when he overshared, when he sent you photos of George, of Mick, when he forwarded you along videos of Roscoe when Roscoe was away with him.  

Back when your love was celebrated, when it didn’t feel like Lewis was just tolerating it, tolerating you, tolerating your love. 

Jealousy reared its ugly head every weekend as well. Whenever you saw an Instagram story, or a twitter post, whenever you saw that Lewis was out with his friends, or his team, or his crew. You knew it wasn’t fair to be jealous, that it wasn’t fair to compare yourself to the people that Lewis spent 5/7 days a week with, that it was hard for him to say ‘no’ to them. 

It didn’t change how much it hurt, how much it made your heart ache to know that you truly were something that could be put on the backburner. He was always out building other worlds, but where were you?  

Where were you every time he was out with his friends after a race? Where were you every time he was celebrating a win, or celebrating a pole in qualifying? Where were you every time he went live on Instagram? 

Where was his love for you when you sat looking at the suitcases in the closet, again? 

Gone. 

It was time to accept the truth, that his love for you was gone. That he didn’t celebrate his love for you like he once did, that he didn’t celebrate you, like he once did.  

He tolerated it, and he tolerated you. Tolerating something and celebrating it were too obviously different things. It had never been more evident. 

The bags didn’t stare at you anymore as they laid open on the bedroom floor, your clothes finding themselves folded and inside each of them, your portion of the closet emptying out as the bags grew heavier and heavier. The bags under your eyes growing darker alongside them. 

You couldn’t leave without saying anything to him, couldn’t allow him to come home to an empty home. It was obvious he didn’t deserve an explanation, and you didn’t plan on giving him one. But he deserved a goodbye.  

It was clear the presence of the suitcases registered in Lewis’ mind the moment his eyes found them as the front door closed. He immediately looked at you, the most emotion you’d seen in months shining in his eyes. 

“What’s going on?” 

The shake in his hands was visible as he asked the question, his own bags falling gently beside your own as he stared at you.  

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t beg for a place in your life anymore, Lew. I’m sorry.” 

The resignation was evident in his eyes, but there was no fight in them as he sat on the couch opposite you. It almost hurt to know that he wasn’t going to argue, wasn’t going to ask you to stay, to not break free and leave the both of you in ruins. It almost hurt, but you knew it would be the case.  

“I’m sorry.” 

He didn’t try to stop you as you went towards your bags, he didn’t look up from his ink-stained hands as the click of the lock sounded. He didn’t try to say anything more as the suitcases rolled out the door. 

You didn’t see the tears gather in his eyes and then fall down his cheeks as the door closed behind you, the longing on his face as he debated with himself internally if he should run after you. Beg you to stay. It was so plain to see now, you were younger, and wiser, and he didn’t deserve you anymore. 

Lewis knew the truth. You deserved someone who would celebrate you, celebrate your love. Not someone who could only tolerate it when their own life was falling apart. He didn’t deserve you, not anymore.  

i really hope you guys liked this!! im really not too sure if i'll make a part 2, but if there's a lot of demand for one i will. thank you for all the love. also i read this like 4 times so if there's any mistakes im sorry lol

tag list

@iloveyou3000morgan @leclercdream @myescapefromthislife

(if you're interested in being added to my taglist for all my works please reach out! i didnt tag anyone who only requested to be tagged for specific parts of my other work!

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 27: Take Me Back To The Beginning

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty seven of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 13.3K (I tried to cut it down I promise 😭)

Warnings:  I'm gonna label this one 18+ because it's Soldier Boy. Homelander is a freak AGAIN,  A little bit of Oedipal Complex (It's Homelander the man is a walking Greek Tragedy), Graphic depiction of death, Dark thoughts, References to Past Trauma,  Angst, Cursing, Sexual References, Family Problems- A LOT of family problems, Homophobic comment (It's Soldier Boy), Past Trauma, Death Mentioned, Blood mentioned. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/n: It's that time y'all! The final battle is finally here! This chapter was a doozy to write, there were so many things that needed to be wrapped up, but I really have loved writing this series and I really like how everything came together.

READER POV

The building is just as cold as you remember it, the hallways are silent and empty as if they'd been cleared for this exact moment as the three of you make your way into the depths of Vought Tower.

I wonder if Homelander was the one who did it, or if someone else realized what was coming.

There was an electricity in the air like the coming storm, rolling in front of Ben, Butcher, and you like a dark omen.

Homelander is going to get what is coming to him.

Any remorse you had for him left the moment that he took Lou. There was nothing human to save, nothing left to redeem, the only thing left was the sharpened, cruel creature that Vought created from your own flesh and blood.

And if you were his beginning, you might as well be his end.

Ben was walking beside you, any softness that you'd seen outside the building replaced by the cold calculating mask of Soldier Boy, you knew all too well, but this time you didn't fear his descent into the blaze, you reveled in it. For the first time in years, you were happy to see Soldier Boy again, and this time you knew that Ben was becoming this for you, for Lou, and for Rosemary.

You hoped that this time he wouldn't hold you back from doing what you needed to do as he had earlier. Though he did seem sorry for what happened while the two of you were outside, you weren't sure how eager he was to put it into practice.

Butcher seems to know where he is going, so you fall into step behind him, not concerned as to how Butcher knows exactly where he is headed. He stops outside a massive gilded door across from a rather exhaustive statue of the Seven craved from black marble.

The double doors that lead into the main conference room at Vought Tower are made to look intimidating, but you didn't feel anything but anger and fear. Not fear for yourself, but fear of what Homelander had done to Lou and to Rosemary.

Butcher pushes open the doors with one hand revealing a large room that lacks warmth. The last rays of the setting sun send honeyed light onto the black marble floors, dramatizing Homelander's stoic figure where he stands at the large floor to ceiling wall of windows at the opposite side of the room. His gaze is focused on the city below, like a proud emperor observing his kingdom and everything he owns.

He probably believes he does.

You think to yourself, eyes skating around the edges of the room looking for possible threats, but you don't see any. The wall to your left is lined with monitors and the wall to your right also has some, but instead holds a smaller pair of black double doors.

You didn’t know what kind of tricks Homelander had up his sleeve, but you were preparing yourself for the worst. Of the Seven teammates remaining he was the most formidable. You doubted that the Deep could do anything to you on dry land and you were more than happy to turn him into a tuna roll. You were a little worried about A-Train. He was fast enough to cause a problem, but you didn't know how much. Butcher had told you not to be worried about Hughie's girlfriend Starlight, mentioned that she wouldn’t side with Homelander and that she probably wouldn't be anywhere near Vought Tower. You figured that she'd probably gone to pick up Hughie from the gas station that Butcher had left him at, but you didn't know if she would come take down Homelander.

Honestly you were more worried that she would come for Ben. You'd seen her posts on social media proclaiming Soldier Boy as a terrorist and a villain, which meant that she probably wasn't your biggest fan either. You hoped that she was far away, you didn't want to kill someone who didn't deserve it or rather someone who lashed out against Ben or you because they didn't understand the whole situation.

Butcher also seemed unsure about who would be at Vought, mentioned something in passing about his old team that included the man you'd seen back at Herogasm, but you hadn't seen anyone in the building or sensed that anything unusual was about to happen other than your plan to rip out Homelander's spine and wear it around your neck like a fur boa.

"I remember the first time I stood here." Homelander says without turning around. You could see his pristine reflection in the glass, blonde hair perfectly styled and glowing in the last few wisps of sunlight. "I hadn't seen anything like New York City before, hadn't been around so many people in my entire life." His arms are crossed behind his back, the epitome of control. "They told me it was mine. That this was what I had been bred for my entire life." He glances over his shoulder at you. "I would have been willing to share it with you and dad."

"Where are Lou and Rosemary?" You keep your voice under control.

He ignores you and turns, eyes flicking from Butcher, to Ben, to you. "You are so beautiful. When I imagined what my mother would look like I never imagined someone like you. Maybe I imagined you looking a little more motherly." The feeling of his eyes tracing your figure makes your skin crawl. "But I can see why dad loves you so much. And of course why Noir was obsessed with you."

The mention of Noir makes your blood run cold. How did he know about that? Did Noir tell him?

That was another side of this whole situation that you had considered, you had no idea where Noir was. If he had stayed at the Tower or if he had cut and run when he heard that the rest of his team was being killed one by one. You hoped that it was the first option, trying to hunt him down and find him seemed inconvenient and you'd much rather just settle this now.

"Answer her question." Ben growls, the air around the two of you heating from Ben's newfound powers and the smell of ozone begins to float under your nose. He was trying to hold himself back from stepping in front of you and hiding you behind his body, that much was obvious. You could tell how much he hated how Homelander kept staring at you.

You did too. The guy is creepy enough, does he have to turn this into a Greek Tragedy? Did he see how things ended up for Oedipus?

Homelander only smiles, the same one he had back at Legend's, wide and with too much teeth. The smile of a predator before it catches it's prey, pretty until its teeth latch onto your throat.

He's very confident for someone who has no chance of taking down both of us. Then again, maybe he feels that way because he has the two people in the world who mean everything to me.

You strain your hearing to find Lou and Rosemary, but you can't hear them. There's a low buzz being projected through the building that makes it impossible for you to hear anything else.

Interesting that he's willing to handicap us even if it handicaps him as well.

"Hello William, still standing in my way and feeding them lies about me I see." Homelander tsks his finger as if Butcher is a child.

"Jealous that your dear old dad gets along better with me? Or maybe that your mother doesn't think that I'm as big a twat as you?" Butcher breezes with an easy smile.

Homelander's right eye twitches with Butcher's taunt.

"Sorry mate, does that make you angry? That your parents see me as the son they never had?" Butcher's smile grows.

You take this moment to skate your eyes around the room looking for any evidence of your granddaughter and daughter but you don't see any. Butcher was buying you time, but you didn't know how long it would take for Homelander to be done talking and you were ready to beat the location of your daughter and granddaughter out of him.

"Where are Lou and Rosemary?" Ben shouts again interrupting Butcher. "If you've hurt either of them I swear-"

"Why would I hurt my niece? I'm not a monster. She's fucking four years old." Homelander scoffs.

But hidden in his answer is the possibility that he hurt Rosemary, and it makes your blood run cold.

"We both know that you're capable of that." You respond coldly. "You thought nothing of using her as a human shield earlier."

Homelander presses a hand to his chest as if you've hurt him. "Why mother dearest, how could you say that about your only son?"

"Tell me where they are, and I will consider letting you live." You say without emotion.

Lie.

"There she is." Homelander smirks. "There's the woman I know and love. The one I met at Herogasm had so much ferocity, such rage, and pride. I think you try to hide her behind this. When you act pathetic and human." He gestures to you as if that explains things. "Because you're afraid to embrace it."

"You don't know me-"

"Well. The saying is, like father like son, but-" Homelander's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "The woman I met at Herogasm, she's something special, and exactly like me. Not to mention the woman who killed Stan is just as ferocious, and I'd like to talk to her."

"Keep pissing me off and you're gonna do a little more than talk to her."

Homelander chuckles. "Don't tease me." He has the audacity to wink.

"Don't you fucking look at her that way you sick fuck." Ben growls.

"Why? Aren't pretty things made to be worshipped?" His smirk grows. "And if I had someone like her I sure would worship her."

Ben lunges forward, to wipe the smirk off his face, but when you reach out and grab his arm, he stops. When he turns to look at you he looks like he's ready to snap Homelander in half, a fire blazing behind his eyes that you're not sure if it's because you held him back or because he's upset over what Homelander said.

With your eyes you try to say:

"You can rip him apart after he tells us where Lou and Rosemary are."

You're not sure Ben gets it, but he doesn't advance so you assume he got some form of that.

Deep down you were worried that Homelander had already handed them over to Vought or to the government for some kind of deal. It was an all consuming fear, because yes you would fight tooth and nail to get them back, but it wouldn't be easy if you had to fight the United States government to do it.

"Ashley." Homelander says, but when no one appears he roars the name again, with so much ferocity that it echoes off the walls of the round room, vibrating against the monitors, and into the hallway behind you.

A red-haired woman appears at the black double doors on the right side of the room, looking frazzled and pale. There are pieces of her hair stuck to her fashionable black pantsuit in clumps and she's wearing a pair of crimson heels that clack loudly against the marble floors. She's got a death grip on her phone so tight that you can hear the tension of her tendons in her hand.

You remember seeing her before in the background of an interview on t.v., but never paid much attention to her. Ben looks as confused as you do at her appearance, no doubt waiting for her to start lobbing fireballs or make heads explode, but instead she drags Lou through the doors behind her.

Lou looks the same as she did when Homelander took her, still wearing the same pink polka dot pajamas, except now she's holding the hand of a boy who looks maybe twelve years old with blondish-brown hair that hangs into his eyes that you're assuming is Ryan.

The woman, identified as Ashley disappears as suddenly as she appeared and slams the doors behind her.

Probably had the right idea. This entire room is about to become ground zero. Which is horrifying because now Lou is here.

The amount of relief you feel at the appearance of your granddaughter is overwhelming, fear of her being locked away somewhere evaporating as her eyes fall on you, wide and green.

"Lou." You breathe and cross the room to get to her, ignoring Homelander's gaze that follows your every move. You drop to your knees to give her a hug, but for the first time since you met her, she doesn't hug you back. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?” She's not smiling at you, she's frowning.

"Are you my grandma?"

The question makes you freeze for a moment. Obviously Homelander had told her the truth about everything and you didn't want to lie to her again. You knew this day would come, but you didn't think that she would find out this way. If anything Rosemary and you were going to tell her when she was old enough to understand that it wasn't something she should say in public.

You didn't look like a grandmother, nor did you think that anyone would believe Lou if she said it in public, but it would reveal that you were in fact Indigo.

Then again, we're probably past that. You frown at the thought, but it was true. There was no going back. You'd walked into Vought with no disguise in front of all the cameras and you certainly were going to leave your mark here tonight. You'd be lucky if Vought didn't run the story in the morning:

"Payback Strikes Back Against the Celebrated Seven"

Of course in that story everyone would conveniently forget that Ben and you were also beloved heroes, were also worshipped and elevated in society. Funny how things like that seem to be lost in translation.

"Yes." You reach up to push back her hair and she moves her head away, her dark hair slipping through your fingertips.

"Why did you lie? Lying is mean." She whispers, hurt flashing in her eyes. "Did you not want to be my grandma?" Lou looks down at her feet clad in a pair of teddy bear slippers.

"Oh sweetie." You sigh, tilting her chin up to look at you. "I did. I am. It was just easier this way-"

"Mommy says that lying is bad." Her green eyes are watery, voice quiet.

"I know. It is. But you have to understand it was a grown-up decision and we didn't want you to find out like this." This time she lets you brush her hair back from her face. "And it doesn't mean we love you any less."

Her eyes flick to Ben. Ben had followed you over, to make sure that Homelander didn't attack you when your back was turned.

"You're my grandpa?" Lou sniffles.

"Yeah." Ben forces a tight smile for Lou's sake, but you know that he's thinking that this isn't the place for this.

It isn't.

You could still feel Homelander's eyes against your back and you were trying to fight the shudder of disgust.

"Ryan say hello to your grandparents." Homelander calls from his position by the window, his voice proud and filled with  humor.

"Hello." Ryan smiles, but its hesitant and you’re happy that he’s at least able to read the room. A skill that his father didn't seem to have.

"Hi." You smile back tightly, the same smile that Ben had moments ago.

Meeting Ryan made all of this worse. You hear Homelander's footsteps as he gets closer to you and Ben mirrors his movement to block Homelander narrowing his eyes. You weren't here for a family reunion, you were here to kill Homelander and get your family back, but the thought of killing Ryan's father in front of him made you hesitate. That was something that seemed too cruel to consider, unless if Ryan was somehow shown how monstrous his father was.

Homelander holds his hands up in mock surrender. "I just want to talk this out."

You stand and push Lou behind you, refusing to let Homelander get anywhere near her again. "I thought you didn't want to talk to us anymore." You spit the words.

"I changed my mind." He forces his expression into something that looks like shame. "Maybe I got a little carried away before. But you have to understand I have been waiting to be apart of a family for such a long time and now that I have Ryan I’ve realized how important it is to have one. I'd never felt that kind of love for someone else, the kind of love that drives you to sacrifice whatever you have to save them.” He glances down at Lou who is peeking out from behind your leg at Homelander. "The kind of love you have for Lou."

He speaks like a practiced actor, his hand movements simple, rehearsed, the expressions on his face calm and collected, but you don't believe it for a minute.

"I know you said that I wasn’t your son, but I am." He says, eyes flicking from Ben to you. "I am your blood that's all that matters and now we can be a family. A real family."

"Where is Rosemary?" You ask. Lou hasn't moved from behind you.

"Please. All I'm asking is for a chance-" Homelander says ignoring your question.

"Why should we give you a fucking chance? You kidnapped Lou, you've probably hurt Rosemary or worse!" You could feel the room beginning to shake with the force of your anger, eyes shifting to purple.

"You kidnapped her, Dad?" Ryan asks in surprise.

You look back at where he was standing. Lou was still holding on to his hand and when you'd pushed her behind you, you'd also inadvertently pushed Ryan behind you too.

"I thought you said that Lou wanted to come live with us." Ryan continues looking confused. "And who's Rosemary?"

"He lied." Ben snarls, eyes not leaving Homelander.

"My guess is he does that a lot." You sigh looking at Ryan. "She's Lou's mother, your aunt. She flew after him when he took Lou. You haven't seen her?"

Ryan shakes his head.

Fuck.

Homelander ignores the question again and changes tactics, his blue eyes turning on Ben. "I understand what it's like for your team to betray you, to stab you in the back, to act like you didn't fight together, bleed together and to act like you weren't willing to die for one another. We could be unstoppable together, all of us. A family. Isn't that what you always wanted dad?" Homelander says the last part softly, enticing Ben to make that choice. "I read your file. Everything about what happened to your mother and it wasn't hard to figure out what happened with your father."

Ben's jaw clenches together and you watch his entire body tighten at the mention of his dad.

It was true. Ben had always wanted a family, always wanted someone in his life that cared for him, that he could love and be loved by, and you had made sure in all the years you'd known him that it was you. You were his family just as Ben had become your family and cared for you. It was hard to not be family to one another after all the years you'd spent together, to not care about him the way you did. It wasn't a burden to you to love Ben and wasn’t a burden for you to take up the title of family, because it was simply true.

You reach out and touch Ben's back to let him know that you’re there, feeling his muscles twitch for just a moment beneath your hand, before he glances over his shoulder at you. For just a fraction of a second you see the Soldier Boy façade drop and you see your Ben again, before something hardens in his eyes. The conversation that passes through the glance you share is absolute and quick, but he understands.

Ben takes a step towards Homelander letting your hand fall as he forces a tired sigh. "I'm sorry." He places his hand on Homelander's right shoulder.

You watch Homelander relax under the contact, the expression on his face hurts you. You didn't think it would, but Homelander looks happy and comforted that Ben was here with him. Content that Ben finally gave in.

In some ways you wished that it could be this way, that Homelander was redeemable, and that you could all be a family the way he wanted. But you couldn’t. The blood on his hands was too great and you had to stop him before anyone else got hurt.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't there, sorry that I wasn't able to teach you what I should have father to son." Ben sighs. "I think it would have helped you. I think your mother could have helped you."

"You're here now." Homelander says, looking over Ben shoulder at you, his eyes misty. You force yourself to send him an encouraging smile. "Both of you are." Homelander's voice sticks a little as he says it.

Something deep down breaks when he says that, because it’s the same thing that Ben and you had said to each other outside. As much as you wanted to hate Homelander, to push him away, another part of you was beginning to unravel, the part of you that wanted to accept him as your son. But you couldn’t because he didn't deserve that. Homelander was the monster that Vogelbaum created, there wasn’t a shred of human decency left and that meant Ben and you had to make a hard decision.

You wonder if Ben really did feel that way or if he was just doing this because he knew you wanted him to.

Ben continues to smile at him. "It would have helped you not to become a sniveling weak pussy starved for attention."

Homelander's smile falters. "Weak? But I'm your blood. Your son-"

"I know." You try to ignore the emotion that bleeds into Ben's voice when he says it. "And you're a fucking disappointment."

"What-" Homelander doesn't get the word out before Ben tackles him back away from you and Butcher leaps over the table to help him.

Ryan stiffens behind you as they do this and you look at him. "Dad?" Ryan whispers.

Lou gasps and touches the end of your shirt in fear, watching Homelander fight Butcher and Ben back, his eyes glowing an ominous red.

You open your mouth to say something to her and Ryan, but you feel a sharp pressure on the back of your neck and hear a high pitched snap.  You turn your head to look to your right and see Black Noir standing there, a broken syringe that holds a clear liquid in his right hand. The tip snapped when he had tried to press it into your body, unaware that your newfound power meant that nothing could break your skin.

"Ryan, please take Lou out of here. I don't want her to see this." You say calmly, not looking away from Noir, who lowers the syringe slowly in shock.

"But-" Ryan begins to say.

"Do it now." You order turning your body to face Noir. "Hello Earving. Long time no see."

Noir takes a small step backward realizing his mistake as Ryan pulls Lou to the doors on the other side of the room.

You hear Noir try to form a word, nothing more than an awkward click and a wheezing sound. "Sorry I can't hear you." You smile cruelly at him.

"I’d say you look good but, Ben really fucked you up pretty good didn't he?" You look through the mask with your x-ray vision, seeing just how messed up Noir is underneath. "It's a miracle that you're alive. That any of you got out of there alive."

Noir drops the syringe and pulls a knife, the blade shining in the fluorescent lights.

"You know, if the syringe didn't work, I don't think the knife will either." You begin to say, but he's undeterred.

He lunges forward sweeping the blade in a deadly arch aiming for your neck, but you catch his wrist. “If I had been there you all would have suffered.” You turn his wrist at an awkward angle, listening to the sharp cracking of bone as it snaps and Noir’s wheeze of pain.

Behind you, you could hear the telltale sound of punching and crashing, but you don’t look away from Noir, trusting that Ben and Butcher have it under control.

"Before I killed Countess I had to listen to her go on and on about how proud she was about that day, how proud she was that you all stabbed Ben in the fucking back, and honestly I didn’t mean to kill her. Though I will admit I regret not making it last a little longer. The Twins begged for mercy, tried to tell me that it was a big mistake, that Ben lied to me." You shrug advancing on him. "But Ben doesn't lie to me."

Noir tries again, kicking his foot up to hit your abdomen, but your hand closes on his ankle keeping his leg extended between the two of you.

 "He told me exactly what happened that day." You snarl, shoving Noir back from you so harshly that he lands on the ground. "You all turned on him. And honestly, you got off easy. You're lucky I wasn't there. Do you have any idea what I would have done to you if I had been there?" You smile and let out a low laugh. "Well I guess that doesn't matter, because you’re about to find out."

He scuffles back still on the ground, trying to crawl back, and reaches into his pocket for something. You were expecting a gun or a throwing knife, but instead he pulls out a notepad and a pen and you stop.

"What are you-" You begin to say, but Noir starts frantically writing with his only good hand.

He curls his ruined arm under the notepad to hold it steady as he forms the words on the page, and holds it up for you to see.

Did it for you.

"What?"

Noir drops the pad to write again.

Using you.

"Who?"

Him.

"Ben?"

Noir nods frantically.

Only way.

Wow he is so much worse off than I thought.

Then again, when Ben broke your heart you did think that too for a little bit. That all the years spent together had been a lie and that he was manipulating you and using you because he didn’t want to face the silence alone. It reminded you of the thing your mother shouted at you when you gave Howard back the ring and left home:

“You really think that disappointment will ever love you? Care about you? You are nothing to him, just another plaything. And the day he finally tosses you away, don’t bother coming back here.”

It makes you hesitate again and Noir sees it as an opportunity to write more on his piece of paper.

Set you free.

"You thought that the only way to free me was to send Ben to fucking Russia?"

Noir nods.

"I wasn't some fucking damsel in distress. I wasn't locked up in a tower by some dragon. I wasn't trapped-

You were.

"No I wasn't I chose to be there-"

Not happy.

"I was happy Earving."

I am better for you.

Your jaw snaps together, looking past the mask and into his scarred face. The expression in his eyes has shifted now, to something softer, something vulnerable and earnest. You remember what Stan said about Noir going through your apartment when you weren't there, stealing pieces of your clothing, and stealing your jewelry.

I did everything for you.

Noir reaches into his pocket and pulls out something that glimmers in the light. It takes you a moment to recognize it, but it's your pearl necklace, the one your father gave you when you spent your first birthday away from home. He holds it out to you and you take it from his hand. The beads are just as you remember, maybe a little yellowed with age, but still in good condition. Soft and supple against your fingertips, warmed from where they were in Noir's pocket.

Said I could have you.

"Who?"

Stan.

The name of the man you killed makes your blood run cold and for a minute you feel bad for Noir, feel bad that he believed what Stan said. Stan who told Noir whatever he could into manipulating him to do his bidding.

Stan knew that he was obsessed with me, knew exactly what to say to make sure that Noir would do what he wished. And Noir believed that I was something that Stan could give away. I didn't belong to Stan, didn't belong to anyone but me.

That was the problem with Stan after all, that he thought you were a commodity to be sold. That everyone else in the entire world believed that you were nothing more than a puppet to be used and disposed of whenever they saw fit. It was the same attitude that drove Stan and Vogelbaum to take your genetic material.

But then you left. Tried to find you. Couldn't find you. Why did you hide?

You watched Noir's shoulders slump as if it was painful for him to go through the past forty years not knowing where you were.

Could have helped you.

 A chill of disgust traces its hand down your back. You wondered how long he had been stalking you and wondered how many things he still had from forty years ago. The pearls were quickly icing in your hands, a symbol of the girl you used to be, the one who walked around Philadelphia and saw the world in color, saw the good in people. You knew that she was gone, long gone. Not after everything that you'd been through in the past week, finding out about what Vogelbaum did to you changed you, finding out what happened to Rosemary with Charlie changed you into someone different.

But you didn’t hate who you had become. You glance behind you at where Ben is fighting Homelander, ducking beneath the blows that Homelander tries to land, dancing around him.

I love you.

When your eyes trace over the familiar words and see the earnestness in Noir's eyes behind the mask. A part of you breaks for Noir, understanding that his obsession with you maybe did stem from good intentions but the descent into madness that drove him to do the things he did was dark and consumed him quickly.

"Did you know about Homelander?"

Noir was still sitting on the ground looking up at you and when you ask the question you watch him drop his head to his chest in shame.

Yes.

You move the pearls to your front pocket, considering your next move. "I saved your life before from Ben, not because I loved you but because I didn’t think it was right for him to hurt you. I didn't think that you deserved to lose your life over a film role.” You murmur with a sigh “But maybe if you'd gone about this the right way I would have given you a chance."

Do it now.

"No." You shake your head.

But I love you. I'm here-

The next word is just a scribble now as you fling your hand out and Noir's body flies back into the concrete wall. It cracks around him as you increase the pressure and he begins to fold in on himself.

"If you really loved me Earving, you wouldn't have let them do that to me." Your voice sounds hollow, but you know that it's the truth. “You would have tried harder to find me every day, to tell me what they fucking did.”

“Did try-“ He wheezes in a broken voice, barely audible.

“Should have tried harder.”

"Please-" The word is only a shadow of what it should be, his injuries making it difficult to form it, and through the mask you see a single tear tracing the side of his scared face.

"Ben would have ripped them all apart if he knew what they did. But you didn't, you sat at Stan's table for forty years and did absolutely nothing. You don't get the privilege to beg for mercy. Not after the things you did to Ben, and after the things you kept from me." There’s a purple outline glowing all around him, weaving around his torso. Your hand closes, the subtle glow of purple around his body tightening more and more, his screams sounding more like muffled wheezes, different than the shrieks of pain that Stan released in his final moments. And you continue to close your hand until there's nothing left, but a ball of flesh, tissue, and bone sitting on the ground where Noir used to be. Blood flecks the floor, forming rivulets that run like rivers over the pristine black marble like the roots of a tree.

You take in a breath, trying not to go into the darkness again that surges up with Noir’s death, the same darkness that dragged you under when everything happened with Stan, but you right yourself and turn to look at where Ben is fighting Homelander.

Ben is shaking his head and rising from a pile of debris, while Homelander floats in the air holding Butcher by the throat, looking down at him with a sickening smile.

"Goodbye William." Homelander turns and throws him against the window. It shatters with the force of Butcher's body being thrown against it and his body disappears from view into the air outside of the building.

Homelander turns to look at Ben and you. Ben has a cut on his cheek from Homelander's laser vision and takes a shaky step forward, but he stands proudly, putting himself between Homelander and you.

“Dad why did you do that?" Ryan asks. "Butcher was my friend."

Your gaze flicks to where Ryan and Lou are peeking around the door way that leads to another part of the tower and you're suddenly afraid that Lou saw what you did to Noir, but she's only looking out the shattered window in horror, tears in her little eyes. She liked Butcher, thought that he was funny.

"He was standing in my way son. And we don't let anyone stand in our way do we? Even our friends." Homelander's hair is hanging in his face from the fight, suit ripped away from his chest to reveal the black bodysuit underneath, one of his golden eagle shoulder pads is missing, and he has a prominent bruise on his cheek.  "See isn’t that better. No more Butcher to spread lies about me. Now we can all talk like a family.”

"Wouldn’t be too sure of that you narcissistic cunt." You hear Butcher’s voice say.

Rosemary floats into the room, supporting Butcher with one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders. She's still wearing the exact same thing she was when she followed Homelander, but now the dark sweatpants and t-shirt are ripped and riddled with what look like bullet holes. Rosemary's hair is wild around her face the hair tie that held it long gone, and she has blood flecked on her arms that you’re sure isn’t hers.

But she's there and she's alive.

You weren’t going to ask her what happened, but the wave of relief you have with her appearance obliterates the weight on your shoulders.

“We aren’t a fucking family.” Rosemary grits her teeth together, spitting the words back at Homelander.

"Mommy!" Lou says happily pulling away from Ryan to go towards her mother, who is closer to Homelander than you wanted her to be.

"How did you-" Homelander sputters.

"Get out of that pathetic excuse for a trap?" She snarls, green eyes flashing, looking more like Ben as she touches down in the room, helping Butcher to his feet. "It was easy. But you and I aren't done."

"I think we are." Homelander's eyes glow bright red, letting lose a bolt, it glances off her arm, but Rosemary crashes into him, grabbing him around the wrist to bring him down against the ground so hard that it rattles the other windows in the room.

But as she tries to bring his body against the marble floor again, Homelander breaks free and rises from the ground to fasten his hand around her throat, his eyes still glowing a sharp red that cuts through the room.

"You’re really pathetic." Homelander sighs. "I expected more, but I suppose you have no training or no practice controlling your powers."

She spits in Homelander's face and his gaze turns murderous.

"Let her go." Ben snarls, his chest beginning to glow, and this time you know that he won't stop, that he won't hold back from hitting Homelander full blast.

Homelander ignores Ben, focusing on Rosemary. "You think that you’re more powerful than me? You're not. I am the oldest after all." Homelander's voice is eerily calm. “You are nothing. Insignificant. You waste your life caring for other people and it makes you weak.”

“Leave my mommy alone!” Lou shouts and kicks Homelander in the shin.

Homelander looks down at her, his eyes still glowing.

Oh shit.

“You know, I thought you were cute at first, but you’re really just annoying.” He sighs kicks out with his foot and before you can do anything Lou goes flying out the opening in the window with a blood curdling scream.

“No!” You shout as her body vanishes just as Butcher’s had only seconds ago. You feel your body take off the ground to chase after her, but before you make it out the window, Lou comes soaring back in her little fists clenched tightly at her sides.

“That was mean.” She states indignantly.

Your eyes widen in shock, feet touching back down on the ground. She can FLY?

“Wow. I kinda expected more than you only being able to fly seeing as you’re supposed to be so powerful but I guess-" Homelander begins to say.

Lou waves her hand a purple glow coming from around her fingertips and the large table in the middle of the room jerks off the floor and slams into Homelander like a freight train. A loud “ooof” comes out of his mouth as he drops Rosemary and flies back against the wall of monitors.

“Mommy are you okay?” Lou says hugging her mom tight.

“Yes sweetie.” Rosemary says hugging her back, but even she seems as stunned by this turn of events as you do.

Yes Rosemary had said that Lou was going to develop powers, but you didn’t think it was going to happen like this or this soon. Then again you weren’t well versed in how long it took for supe children to develop them. Rosemary had developed hers when she was one year old, but you were hoping that maybe you had a few years before Lou developed hers.

“How did she do that?” Ben murmurs to you.

“I have no idea. It’s not a power I was born with or Rosemary was born with. Same with the flying-“ You whisper back. “She didn’t touch Rosemary before she did it, but-“ A horrible thought comes flitting into your mind.

The truth was you’d never used your powers around Lou, neither had Rosemary. Lou didn't know that either of you were supes. She’d never had exposure to super powers before today, hadn't watched them on t.v or been around any other supes which meant that she was experiencing all of this for the first time.

And that’s why they’re manifesting right now.

“But what?”

“She saw me use telekinesis to fight Noir. She saw Homelander fly." You murmur.

I receive powers through death, Rosemary through touch, and Lou through sight.

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

She could have limitless power, more than any of us, more than any supe that ever lived. No wonder Charlie was obsessed with her power. All she has to do is see a supe use their powers and-

The fear of Vought and the government comes crashing over you all over again, because you knew that they wouldn't let Lou go free, not when her ability was something like that, something that made her indestructible and unstoppable.

They'd run experiments on her, do whatever it took to try and gain that power for themselves, because who needed an army of supes when there was just one who was able to do anything?

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Ben leans towards you.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.” Ben mutters.

“You can say that again.”

Homelander rises from the ground brushing off his clothes with a snarl on his face eyeing Lou and Rosemary before he finally turns himself towards Ben and you. "I don’t understand why you're doing this."

"Us?" You scoff trying to shake off the shiver of fear that came with the revelation of Lou’s gift. "You’re the one who kidnapped an innocent child and just tried to throw her out a fucking window."

"You should thank me!" He snaps, eyes gleaming darkly in the light. "I unlocked her abilities. Something that neither of you had been able to do. And now she really is growing into her potential." His eyes flick to where Ryan is standing by Butcher. Butcher's hand is on his shoulder. "You really turned into a disappointment too. I tried to do all of that with you and all you did was kill your fucking mother!"

Ryan inhales sharply, and Butcher's hand tightens on his shoulder. "The only disappointment here is you." Butcher's eyes narrow as he stares at Homelander. "Ryan is not a disappointment to me and he wasn't a disappointment to Becca! And it's not his fault what happened to her."

"Oh right Becca." Homelander rolls his eyes. "You've really got to get over her. She wasn't anything special. Practically brainwashed Ryan into believing he wasn't special. When he comes from a practically god-like bloodline. Judging by Lou's powers I'd say that Ryan got the short end of the stick."

"We are not gods." You spit. "Can't you fucking see that? We are what Vought created. We live, we bleed, we die, that's it. Nothing more, nothing less."

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." Homelander looks furious. "You were supposed to be my family, supposed to love me!" He looks from Ryan to Lou to Rosemary and then finally back at Ben and you. "Somebody has to like me best! Someone has to love me! I'm your blood! Your son! Your first born!"

"She's said it before and I'll say it again." Ben states from where he's standing next to you. "You might be our blood, but you're not our son."

The manic look on Homelander's face makes you anxious. He was like a feral animal backed into a corner. He knew that he had lost and you knew that there was no way to tell how he would react to this.

“Do you have any idea what I could do to you?” Homelander’s voice is more of a growl now as he begins to advance on Ben. “I am the most powerful super who ever lived. I am a god. And you are nothing compared to me.”

You step up beside Ben preparing for what comes next. “You’re nothing Homelander. You’re just a sad little boy who never grew up and became a hollow shell of a person that Vought filled with macho bullshit until you turned into a monster.” You say cooly. You were ready to fight him again, to kill him, because you knew he would never stop, that he wouldn’t leave any of you alone unless he was dead.

“I am not a monster!” His eyes are dark. “You think you’re so high and mighty? You’ve killed more people than me and at least I do it quickly. Did you enjoy it?” He smiles wide. “To watch the light fade from their eyes? To crush them into nothing while you sat back and craved their deaths?”

“The people I have killed I have killed to protect my family. I don’t do it for sport.”

“I don’t understand why you won’t just accept me! I’m your son! I’m not some fuck up disappointment! I’m Homelander! The greatest supe who ever lived. You should be proud of me! Proud to be my parents.” His eyes narrow. “Do you have any idea what I could give you? I have built an empire from nothing. Dad, you could be on top again, a household name, respect, power, money, women, anything you wanted and you’re really going to throw all of that away? For her? For them?”

Ben's eyes skate over Lou and Rosemary, and flick to you before he levels his gaze on Homelander once more.

“I have everything I need.” Ben’s voice is low and gruff squeezing your hand tighter in his as he speaks.

You feel your heartbeat stutter for a second, because Ben had said and done the one thing that you never believed that Soldier Boy ever could. After eighty years, Ben had chosen you just as you’d chosen him the night he asked you to give up everything you knew and dive into the unknown with him. And you felt the last shred of apprehension about him staying in your life crumple up and burn, because you knew that he wasn't going anywhere and that he was going to love you and stay with you for the rest of your life. If you weren’t in this situation you were sure that you would be crying.

“Fine. If you don’t wish to be apart of it, then you’ll burn with the others.” His eyes begin to glow bright red as he prepares to charge Ben and you.

You brace your body for the coming fight, dropping Ben's hand.

Everything slows down. Homelander's feet leave the ground as he starts to fly forward to kill you, the heat from Ben's chest burning the air around you, and the beating of your own heart thunderous in your ears as you feel your eyes shift to red.

But the attack never comes.

A blinding flash of golden-orange light hits Homelander in his left side, there's an unmistakable smell of burning flesh and hair, and Homelander's body is knocked off course through the wall full of monitors. There's a scream somewhere and you turn to see Rosemary, kneeling over Lou's body that lies on the ground.

And you understand. The attack didn’t come from Ben, it came from Lou. Lou who saw Ben use his powers, Lou who had the ability to replicate abilities through sight, and Lou who was so little that you were unsure what something like that would do to her.

"Lou." You gasp racing over to where Rosemary is cradling her little body to her chest.

She looks okay, paler than normal, her breathing is uneven, and you can hear the frantic beat of her little heart, but she does not open her eyes.

"Louisa?" Rosemary says, stroking the back of her head, looking into the face of her daughter, using her full name for the first time in years.

She doesn't move, stays limp in her mother's arms.

No. I can't lose Lou. I've lost so much over the years.

Tears spring to your eyes as you fall to your knees, reaching out to touch her arm. Her skin is so warm it almost burns the palm of your hand, but you don't remove it.

"Lou please. Wake up sweetie." You say, voice thick with emotion.

Lou stays as she is.

Ben's hand comes down on your shoulder and you lean into his leg, shuddering as tears begin to trickle down your cheeks.

Rosemary is beside herself, sobs shaking her shoulders, cradling Lou to her chest. "Please don't leave me." You hear Rosemary whisper.

You suddenly flash back to the day on the beach that you took the bullet for Ben, when your blood turned the sand to mud and Ben held you so tight to his chest that it almost hurt, and you thought you heard him say the same words as you felt yourself began to drift off into nothing.

Ben pulls you up against his chest, tucking your head into the hollow of his throat, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he looks down at his daughter and granddaughter. You shudder into his chest, choking back a sob, arms gripping the front of his suit.

"Mommy?" You hear Lou's little voice murmur.

You pull away from Ben's chest to see where Lou is still lying, her eyes blinking open, but it seems like too much effort.

"Yes sweetie?"

"Can we go home now?" Lou says. "I'm tired."

"Whatever you want honey." Rosemary sighs in relief, hugging Lou closer to her.

"I want grandpa to come with us." She breathes into Rosemary's shirt, wrapping her little arms around her mother's neck. "And grandma and Ryan." Lou says the last too so quietly that you don't think that you heard correctly, but she quickly falls asleep.

"Okay." Rosemary's eyes are closed, and she's petting the back of Lou's back.

You exhale, slowing down your breathing, still holding tight to Ben's supe suit. Ben's eyes aren't on you though, they are focused on the giant hole in the side of the building that Homelander disappeared into.

Homelander comes stumbling through holding his head. His supe suit hangs in burned tatters on his shoulders, but his skin looks unscathed. There's a large lump on the side of his temple, and he squints at Ben and you as if he can't recognize you.

"Hello." Homelander says it hesitantly. "Um. I'm sorry I don't know where I am. Do you live here?"

Holy fucking shit.

"Um." You stutter.

"Do you know who I am?" Homelander continues taking a shaky step towards where you're all standing.

"Dad are you okay?" Ryan asks.

Homelander's blue eyes flick to his son. "I'm your dad?"

Butcher is on Homelander before you can stop him, tackling him to the ground and landing a punch against Homelander's nose.

There's a sickening crunching noise and a high pitched wail from Homelander, as the nose breaks beneath Butcher's fist and blood floods down Homelander's face.

He's human now, but he doesn't know who he is. Your eyes skate across where Homelander lays under Butcher until your eyes catch on the lump on his right temple. He has brain damage from when he landed, he hit his head, doesn't remember any of this, any of us, any of who he is.

And before Butcher can land another blow you grab him by the back of the coat and throw him across the room. He checks himself mid-air and lands in a crouch, his coat billowing out behind him like a cape.

"Just hold on for a minute." You say.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He shouts, fist still covered in blood.

What am I doing? The thought was also going around in your head. You had come here to kill Homelander, to make him pay, but seeing him like this, unable to tell who he was or where he was, made this feel wrong. You couldn't put your finger on it, but it felt evil to kill someone who didn't know the reason why they were going to be executed.

"Don't touch him." You say, standing between Butcher and Homelander. Ben and Rosemary are watching you like you're crazy, but you don't let Butcher get close to Homelander.

"Why did you do that?" Homelander cries, holding his gloved hand to his nose to stop the bleeding. Tears are slipping down his cheeks from the pain.

"Ryan give me your jacket please." You hold out your hand for Ryan's red jacket who is looking at his father in total disbelief. "Here." You give it to Homelander. "Tilt your head back and press this to your face."

He does what you say, but he's still watching you like he doesn't completely trust you.

The feeling is mutual.

"You're kidding right? He's still a psychopathic maniac-" Butcher snarls advancing on you. Ben steps forward to stop him.

"I'm not going to let you kill him in front of his child and it-" You glance back at Homelander. "It's different now. He doesn't know who he is, doesn't know why he's here-"

"You don’t think he's fucking faking?" Ben shouts, glaring back at where Homelander is still standing, and for the first time you see genuine fear on Homelander's face.

I mean he is a good actor, but I don’t think that he's acting.

"I don't think he is."

Ben pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look sweetheart I know that he might be having a little bit of memory loss, but he's still Homelander. And I know that he is technically our son but this isn't like starting over. You can't redeem him this way."

"You're my parents?" Homelander asks looking at Ben and you suddenly confused. "But you're so young?"

You ignore him. "I'm not trying to redeem him and I'm not saying that he doesn't deserve to die or that we shouldn't kill him. I just think that we shouldn't kill him now when he's like this."

Ben narrows his eyes at the man who used to be Homelander. You can see the gears working inside of his head as he mulls over your logic, but you knew it meant that you had a shot of convincing him.

"Ben he's human now, you saw Butcher break his nose. He can't fake that-"

"That doesn't matter he's still the same person!" Ben sighs as if you're annoying him. "The same person that hurt Rosemary, the same person who kidnapped Lou."

"I know he's the same person, but it feels wrong to do this, to execute him for something that he can't remember. It's like killing a little kid."

"Fuck." Ben mutters it more to himself than to you as he tries again to see your logic.

Honestly, it hard to see it yourself. You had killed a few people over the years, didn't feel remorse when it came to the safety of your family, but this was different. Homelander had killed people, threatened, and tortured others but he didn't remember it. You hated that it made you guilty when if anyone deserved to die it was him.

"Fine." Ben holds up a hand. "Fine. We help him jog his memory then we kill him."

"Okay, yes that's all I'm asking." You agree.

"Wait a minute, I'm not going to agree to any of that bullshi-" Butcher begins to say, but the large doors at the back of the room open and a group of people walk in.

You recognize Hughie right off the bat, one girl as Starlight from her livestreams, the man from Herogasm who tried to gas Ben that Butcher identified as MM, but the other two are unfamiliar. One is a supe, her black hair straight and hanging around her face, but the other is a man holding a canister of some kind in his right hand with cropped black hair who smells like how Ben used to when he would shoot up and smoke whatever he could get his hands on in the 70's.

Well this is either going to go badly or go badly.

"Who are they?" Homelander says, his voice nasally from where he's holding the jacket to his face.

"What the fuck happened?" Hughie asks, looking around the room at the destruction.

"Well-" Butcher begins to say.

"I turned him human with whatever the fuck is in my chest. You're welcome." Ben lies.

You swallow the lump in the back of your throat. The last thing you wanted was for them to know what Lou was capable of. Rosemary is standing now behind you, holding Lou in her arms who sleeps quietly, curled into her mother.

"But how did you-" Starlight asks.

"I held him down telekinetically." You shrug. "Wasn't that hard."

"Huh." She frowns. "But you didn't kill him?"

"He hit his head." Butcher explains coming to stand beside you. "Can't remember a bloody thing."

"And you believe that?" MM sputters. His eyes haven't left Ben and you know exactly what he's thinking about, the night his grandfather died.

"She does." Butcher nods his head in your direction. "And she doesn't want to kill him if he can't remember why he's a fucking cunt."

MM's eyes flick to you. "Who are you?"

"You're Indigo right? The supe from the 80's who vanished?" Starlight asks.

"Mhmm." You hoped that they weren't here to fight you, but the shiny silver cannister in the shorter man's hand says otherwise. "But all of that doesn't matter now. It was a long time ago. The only thing that matters here is that Homelander is human and that no one died."

Her eyes flick to the ball of flesh in the corner that was Noir then back at you. "No one?"

"No one who didn't deserve it." Ben clarifies gruffly.

You could feel the tension in the air between the group of people standing in front of you. Ben was mirroring your protective stance in front of Rosemary, Lou, and Ryan. You weren't sure what was going to happen, but you didn't want to put them in the line of fire.

"We don't want any trouble, we're just going to take Homelander and leave." You say diplomatically.

"Who's Homelander?" Homelander says still obviously confused. "Is that me?"

Everyone ignores him.

"Wait where are you going to take him?" Hughie asks.

"I have a friend. She knows how to handle supes. She'll find a place for him." Your gaze flicks to the other female supe who hasn't said anything since she walked into the room. You didn't like that you didn't know what her powers are and did not know what to expect if she chose to fight you.

You also hadn't spoken to your would-be friend in over forty years, but you figured that she still was able to pull the same strings she had done in the past for you.

"A friend?" Butcher sounds skeptical.

"Yeah. So if you wouldn't mind letting us through-" You take a step forward preparing to push through the group of people.

MM pulls his gun. "We can't let you do that."

"Why?"

"Well for one Soldier Boy is a terrorist. He's killed people." Starlight's eyes narrow when she looks at Ben. "He's a nuclear bomb with a short fuse, who knows who else will get hurt. Not to mention he's murdered people."

"The only people I murdered are the people from our old team, everyone else was an accident." Ben replies gruffly, looking down the barrel of the gun, unfazed.

"Doesn't matter. It's still murder." The man with the gun states, his eyes narrowing at Ben.

This is not going to go well.

You sigh. You didn't want to kill them, but it was quickly becoming apparent that they weren't going to back down.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way." The other man says in a faintly French accent, the dark haired supe beside him tensing as if preparing to spring.

"And you don't want to fight us." MM narrows his eyes at you.

Ben chuckles under his breath. "Trust me kid, it won't be much of a fight."

He's really not helping his case.

"Oh really?" Starlight's eyes begin to glow a dangerous gold, challenging you to get in her way.

You snort before you can stop yourself. "Your eyes glow, that's cute." You smirk at her, feeling yours shift to bright purple. "Mine do too."

"Annie wait." Hughie says, placing his hand on her arm. "Just let her talk for a minute."

"Really? You want me to listen to this psychopath? You see what she did to Noir-" Starlight, now Annie, gestures back to the blood stained wall and what's left of your old friend.

"If it's any of your business, you would know that he deserved it. And he started it." You say simply. "But it’s not."

"So what? You're telling us to just let you take Homelander?" She spits, eyes still glowing. "And let you leave with Soldier Boy?"

"You really think you can stop us?" Ben takes a step towards Annie, but you hold up your arm to stop him.

"I've honestly had a really bad week and we don't want to fight." You emphasize. "But we will if we have to. And trust me you really don't want that to happen."

"Then come willingly." MM says without lowering his gun.

"You know we can't do that. The last thing I’m going to do is let you lock Soldier Boy up again in some fucking lab. He's been in there long enough.” You reply.

"I'm not going to let you walk away with a ticking time bomb. He's killed people." Annie looks at where Ben is standing slightly to your left.

Like hell you're gonna take him and lock him in a cage.

"He's in control now. And I'll keep him in check."

"You expect us to trust you?" She scoffs. "You, who also have killed who knows how many people over the years."

"Could be worse." You shrug. "But the truth is none of you can stop us, sure maybe you can slow us down for a few minutes, but it won't end well for any of you. And I'd rather not kill any more people today in front of my grandchildren." You raise an eyebrow.

Annie's eyes shift back to where Rosemary is watching her warily, still cuddling Lou to her chest, and you can feel Starlight hesitate for just a second.

"Look Annie, can I call you Annie?" You let your eyes return to their natural color and wave your hand in what you think might be a friendly gesture, but your patience was wearing thin.

"No."

"Annie." You clear your throat. "The things I've done, I've done for my family. I think that maybe you can sympathize with that a little bit. And Soldier Boy well-" You glance at Ben, who is still staring down the barrel of the pistol with a stoic expression. Honestly you knew he was waiting for you to say the word to take down the group of people in front of you. "He's trying to be better and I'm going to help him, but I can't let you put him in a prison cell somewhere or in a cage or a lab."

“I can’t just let you disappear with him.” Starlight’s gaze is firm, unyielding.

You were willing to kill her if that’s what it took, but honestly you were exhausted. Emotionally. Not to mention you didn’t want to have to use the one favor you had but you were going to have to, to make your friend deal with Homelander. You hated owing her favors, they never ended well.

“We won’t disappear.”

“Why should I believe that?”

"You don't have to, but I don’t owe you anything Annie. No explanations, no nothing. Please just be thankful that this is all there is." You look at the faces of the people around her and stop on Hughie, before shifting back to her. "Do you want their blood on your hands? Because I don't. So please let us go and I promise that we won't be a problem."

"You're so sure that it's going to go your way. That you're going to kill all of us. You might be a supe but you don't know that you're going to-" MM begins to say and you finally snap.

Your eyes shift back to bright purple, energy pulsing out from your body as you unlock the anger, rage, betrayal, and hurt you felt the night you almost destroyed Legend's backyard. The bodies of the people standing in front of you lock up as your powers take control, weaving across their limbs, and shrouding them in the warm purple glow from your abilities, forcing them to their knees with their hands behind their backs. The only one you didn’t do this to was Hughie who is looking at you like you're some kind of monster.

And maybe the old you would have thought that too, but the new you wasn't phased.

Annie's body is glowing now, trying to fight the compulsion of your telekinetic abilities, but you know that she can't break it.

"That's how she knows." Ben says with a smirk. You can almost hear pride in his voice.

"Please let them go." Hughie asks you.

"I will. But first we're going to leave. Rosemary, you, Lou, and Ryan go first."

She walks around the people with Ryan in tow who looks back at Butcher for a moment, before he vanishes through the doors. "Ben take Homelander."

"Like fuck I'm going to leave you-" You turn your glowing eyes on him.

"I will be right behind you, now go."

Ben grits his teeth together, waiting another minute, but finally grabs Homelander around the arm and tugs him from the room glaring at you the whole time and muttering something under his breath.

You glance at MM. "I'm sorry for your loss, I am. I know that nothing can make up for what he did and I know that none of you want to believe me when I say this but, he's changed and he's trying to be better." You sigh. "I didn't want it to be like this."

"Wait you're not going to-" Hughie's eyes are wide and you feel Butcher take a step towards you as if he's going to stop you.

"No. Y'all don't deserve that. And I like to think that I'm still a good person. But-" You let out a breath. "I swear on my life that we won't disappear. I swear that I will do my upmost to help him and make sure that no one else gets hurt. And I'm sorry that it turned into this, but I hope that you believe me." Your expression hardens. "Because the next time you come and threaten my family or me again, I won't be forgiving and you won't walk away."

You drop the hold you have on their bodies when you make it to the elevator where your family and Homelander waits for you and you hope that they've chosen not to follow.

"So, what do I owe you for this one?" You ask Grace Mallory, as you stand on the dirt road, surveying the Upstate New York countryside. The fields on either side of the roads were filled with waist high grass that rustled in the wind blowing from the East, wicking the sweat on the back of your neck.

The sun was rising on the horizon and it had taken most of the night to get out of the city to meet her there. It had been a long drive, but the car you'd stolen was working, for now. Rosemary, Lou, and Ryan, were asleep in the back seat and Ben were standing at your side. When Mallory had received your call she didn't sound surprised. You knew that she probably figured you would need her especially with the revelation of Soldier Boy's reappearance. She knew that you had unfinished business with him and that he'd try to find you.

She looks different than she did the last time you saw her years ago. Her hair is now more gray than blonde, pulling free from the severe bun at the back of her head. Her dark colored suit is sharp, pristene, and freshly ironed.

You'd met her in the weeks that followed Ben's supposed death, when Legend and you were planning your disappearance. You didn't know why she helped you make a fake ID and smuggle you out of the city, but she had. The favor you owed her had been collected when Rosemary went off to college, a little supe problem that Mallory's team couldn't handle. Off the books of course. You hadn’t been recognizable and you knew that no one would be able to find you.

"I'll send you my bill." Her smile is tight-lipped, but it's still there. You knew she hated supes, and sometimes you think that she tried to hate you, but you were too much alike.

"The same I'm guessing."

"Maybe." She shrugs watching the other officers escort Homelander into the vehicle.

His nose didn't look much better, it was swollen and purple because no one had set it, and he was wearing a pair of gym shorts and an oversized t-shirt that said "Ask Me About My Cats" on it. It was all you could find at the gas station Ben had stopped at in the middle of nowhere. Technically all of you had to change, especially Rosemary who's clothes were still riddled with holes and with blood splatter. You had a few splashes of blood from Noir, but not nearly as much as her. You knew that the two of you would talk about what happened to her soon, but not right now.

A bird soars overhead and joins another on the power lines hanging above the street, squawking as it settles down.

"Figures. Can't we just call this a favor for an old friend?"

"I guess I should be thanking you. Taking down Homelander, that's pretty impressive. Can't believe Butcher let you walk away with him like that." Mallory says, pressing her lips into a tight line.

Her eyes flick to where Ben is standing beside you. He hadn't said much since he pulled up, still trying to take in everything that had happened last night. You knew she wasn't ecstatic about seeing him again, the last time she saw him she'd told you about after you'd helped her out with her little supe problem and she'd asked you to join her for a beer. You didn't drink it, but you'd sat with her anyway.

When she'd gotten out of the car as you pulled up you'd heard him mutter "is that captain lesbo?" under his breath and it was the first time you'd genuinely laughed since everything happened at Vought tower.

Honestly, you felt kinda heavy on your feet. The stale gas station coffee had done little to boost your energy level and neither had the protein bar that Ben forced you to eat because he said you needed to eat something.

I better get a long vacation after this.

"He wasn't on board, but I convinced him. His team also took some convincing." You frown remembering exactly what you'd had to do to let you walk away, but you didn't feel bad about it. You knew that it was the way things had to be to keep your family safe. "You're not going to tell him about this are you?"

"Maybe. Not for a while though. I'll give him some time to cool down, have a cup of tea, let things settle." Mallory taps a text message on her phone. "It definitely changes things though."

"What does?"

"A cure for being a supe." She eyes Ben for a second. "Word gets out that's not going to be good."

"Believe me I know." You sigh.

You were trying not to think about the revelation of Lou's powers. You hadn't told Mallory that Lou was the one that took down Homelander, nor would you ever. You'd take that to your grave and if Butcher knew what was good for him so would he. You'd destroyed all video evidence on your way out of the Tower, but you were still afraid that someone, somewhere knew something that they shouldn't. Lou had woken up for a little bit on the drive and seemed more like herself after she drank some chocolate milk and ate some dry cereal, than she had when she used her powers earlier.

She just needs to get used to it. We all went through that when we got our powers. But things are never going to be the same though.

Ben nudges your arm with his shoulder as if he's trying to reassure you that he's there and you're not going through this alone. When you glance up at him, you see the corner of his lips twitch into a smile for just a half-second before going back to his stoic expression.

They really aren't going to be the same.

"Don't worry. I'll try to keep it on the down low as long as I can." She shrugs.

Homelander waves once at Ben and you as he is placed into the black Tahoe. The entire trip upstate he had tried to ask more and more questions while Ben drove, but you didn't want to answer him, didn't want to form a bond with him, not when he was acting completely different. You didn't want to get attached, because one day when he remembered who he was and what he had done you were going to kill him.

Ryan hadn't tried to answer his father's questions. You honestly were surprised that he had come with you willingly, he didn't know any of you, but he didn't complain. Plus you'd bought him a pack of state capitals and abbreviations flashcards at the gas station and he'd busied himself with running through the flashcards as fast as he could.

"Do you think he's really forgotten?" Mallory asks you.

"I don't know." You reply honestly. "I think so. But he was backed into a corner, and this may have been his only way out. He didn't like that we weren't accepting him."

"Hmm." Mallory exhales out a breath. "Just makes all of this more difficult I guess."

"It's always difficult." You sigh just as heavily.

"Yeah. Seems like it."

"At least the fucker doesn’t have any powers." Ben adds. "What are you going to do with him anyway?"

"Lock him up, see if they can jog his memory." Mallory examines Homelander as he looks through the darkened windows of the Tahoe at the three of you, still smiling. "I'll let you know if it comes back."

"Thank you Grace."

"Sure. You owe me though."

"I know." You pull absentmindedly on the end of the bright pink shirt that you had to change in to at the gas station, because your other one had Noir's blood on it. "Try to give me a little time first okay?"

"Of course." She reaches out to shake your hand and then shakes Ben's. Mallory turns to walk towards her car, before she stops and turns around. "What about Ryan? You want me to take him off your hands too?"

Ben glances back at the car where Ryan is fast asleep, his head leaning against the window, hair fanning out against the glass. "No. I think he'd be better with us."

"With Homelander the way he is, Ryan should be safe now." You look back at Grace. "Rosemary has an extra bedroom in her apartment, she can take him."

"You sure your cousin can handle a supe with his kind of powers?" Mallory raises an eyebrow referring to Rosemary as your cousin as she always does. Though you believed she knew better and just never said anything.

"Yeah. I think she's got it. Plus Ben and I live in the city too. I have an extra room in my apartment, but I just need to clean it out before he can stay with us. Ryan will be safe and maybe he'll be able to have a normal life." The thought was comforting. You didn't know too much about Ryan's background, but thought that maybe he would benefit from having a normal schedule in his life and have a normal life away from being a supe. Of course you were already thinking about ways Butcher could be in his life. It was obvious how much Butcher cared about him and how much Ryan looked up to Butcher.

You were going to call him when you got back into the city. You also supposed that you could have told him about Mallory, but when you and Mallory started working together you had both decided to keep it to yourself, saw that it was better this way.

"Alright." Mallory turns back to walk towards the car. "See you in ten years." She jokes.

When the car pulls away and drives down the street, Homelander waves at Ben and you again as you stand there leaning against the hood of the SUV you stole to get out of the city. It was easy to steal cars when all you needed to do was telekinetically turn it on.

"You didn't tell me you knew Captain Lesbo." Ben says.

"Don't call her that." You snort. "I owe a lot to her, she helped me get away from Vought."

"Why?"

"No idea." You lean your head against Ben's shoulder, listening to the cawing of the birds and feeling the wind pull and tug at your hair as if trying to ask you to play. It was a nice day, warm, but not too hot.

"Tired?"

"Mhmm."

Ben presses a kiss to the top of your head, holding you closer to him for a few precious seconds, his arm squeezing around your shoulders. "Come on Sweetheart. Let's go home." He murmurs into the top of your head.

"Home?" You murmur looking up into his green eyes, cupping his bearded cheek.

Ben's eyes are bright in the sunshine, the same color they were the day you painted him at the park all those years ago with paint splattered fingers and skirts. But it doesn't feel like any time has passed. It still feels like him and you walking the streets of Philadelphia together with warm pretzels, him crawling through your window to escape the rest of the world, him and you soaking up the sunshine along the bank of a pond, him and you drinking sour beer in a bar and singing all the way home, him and you dancing in a ballroom with the lights twinkling above, and him and you and falling asleep in the same bed bodies entwined. He's still your Ben even after all these years. You knew every smile line, every frown line, every freckle, every dimple, every dip and curve of his handsome face. His arm is still heavy around your shoulders, comforting and familiar.

"I'm already there Ben."

Ben brings his hand up to hold your cheek, the rough pad of his thumb tracing along the curve of your cheekbone. You were more beautiful than he remembered, leaving him breathless each time you smiled at him. His eyes trace the frown lines, the smile lines, the scrunch between your eyebrows, the smile on your face, and down to the parts of you that you believe are imperfections. Someone so familiar to him that he was sure he would never forget, and yet looking at you always felt like the first time, like he was a drowning man and you were the first breath of fresh air. He still saw the pieces of you he knew growing up, the girl whose hair caught fire in the sun when you painted him by a pond that was probably dry and gone, the girl who smiled at him every time he crawled through her window to escape the rest of the world, the girl who refused to let him be alone, the girl who protected him and defended him, the girl who saw all the parts of him he tried to hide from the world, and the girl who made him feel loved for the first time in his life. "Good, because I'm not going anywhere sweetheart, for as long as I live, I promise to be here."

"I'll hold you to that Benjamin."

"Forever?"

"Forever."

A/N: Whew! Big chapter. Lots to take in I know!! But also really fun last moments that I just loved writing. I'm not gonna lie I was tearing up a little bit in that final scene. These characters have just meant so much to me to write. There is one more chapter coming! I know this one kinda felt a little bit like a wrap up, but the Epilogue is coming next. Stay tuned!

As always, thank you so much for reading and for all the love and support! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know! I know that there's only one chapter of the series left, but I will transfer it to the One-shot fics I have planned for them. 😊

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[shybluebirdninja]

Boundaries of Obsession

Summary: Logan, a seasoned bodyguard with a troubled past, is reluctantly assigned to protect Y/n, a 23-year-old diplomat's daughter. The vast age gap between them creates immediate tension, with Y/N resistant to Logan's intrusive presence. However, as they spend more time together, Logan’s professional detachment gives way to possessiveness and jealousy. His obsession threatens to undermine their relationship, forcing both to confront the boundaries of their growing feelings for each other.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female-Human Reader (Y/N Sinclair) Warning: Angst, lil bit of fluff

Logan had been on the edge of a goddamn meltdown, and he’d been desperately hoping for a break from the never-ending grind of his job. He was sprawled out in his small, dimly lit apartment, surrounded by the detritus of his last assignment: crumpled papers, empty takeout containers, and an assortment of half-empty bottles that might have once contained something drinkable. His apartment looked like a tornado had decided to take a detour through his life.

He was nursing a mug of coffee that had long lost any semblance of warmth, staring at the peeling wallpaper as if it might provide some answers. He was just about to lose himself in the haze of his thoughts when the shrill ring of the office phone cut through the silence like a damn alarm bell. It was a sound that meant trouble, and trouble was the last thing he wanted.

With a groan that could only be described as pure frustration, Logan grabbed the receiver and answered with a voice that could best be described as a growl. “Logan.”

“Hey, Logan,” came the voice on the other end. It was Rick, his boss. The tone was serious—Rick had a knack for sounding like someone was about to get shot whenever he was on the line. “We’ve got a new assignment for you.”

Logan rolled his eyes, though Rick couldn’t see it through the phone. “Seriously? What now? Can’t a guy catch a break? I’m drowning in paperwork and old pizza boxes here. I need some damn time off.”

Rick wasn’t one for beating around the bush. “This isn’t a joke, Logan. We need you to protect Y/N Sinclair. She’s the daughter of a diplomat. She’s 23, and there’s been some pretty credible threats against her.”

Logan let out a snort, one that was more of a sarcastic chuckle than anything else. “Protect a diplomat’s kid? That sounds like a whole barrel of fun. What’s she done, pissed off some world leaders? Because that’s usually the kind of thing that gets you on the hit list.”

Rick’s voice took on a slightly softer tone, which was rare for him. “I get it. It sounds like a cushy gig, but it’s high-profile. We need someone who knows their shit. You’ve got the experience, and frankly, I don’t think anyone else is up for it. And hey, it’s just a few weeks. Think of it as a temporary change of pace.”

Logan sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world was on them. “Fine. I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to be thrilled about it. If I end up babysitting someone with a silver spoon stuck in her mouth, I swear, I’m going to lose it.”

Rick chuckled, though it was the kind of chuckle that suggested he was already preparing for more of Logan’s bullshit. “You always have a way of making these things sound so glamorous. But thanks for taking it on. I’ll send over the details. Just remember, this is important.”

Logan slammed the receiver down, muttering curses under his breath. “Important. Sure. Probably just another way to get me tangled up in someone else’s mess.” He glanced around his apartment, wondering how on earth he was going to get through this. He picked up a stray piece of paper, squinting at it as if it might hold some kind of answer to his current predicament.

His mind was already racing through the logistics of the new assignment: meeting Y/N Sinclair, figuring out her schedule, and trying to figure out how to stay sane while being stuck in the same space as someone who probably didn’t know the first thing about real danger. He was about to face yet another chapter of dealing with people who had no idea what it was like to live in the real world, where every day was a battle and every decision was a gamble.

Logan took a deep breath, staring at the mess that was his life and muttering to himself. “Well, at least I’ll get a change of scenery. Maybe I’ll even get to add a few new scars to the collection.” He chuckled darkly, knowing full well that he was in for a ride he wasn’t exactly thrilled about.

And so, with that resigned acceptance, Logan prepared himself for whatever hell was about to unfold. He might have been grumbling and cursing every step of the way, but deep down, he knew he’d take the job.

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

Logan’s arrival at the Sinclair residence was like stepping into a fucking fairy tale. He was greeted by the kind of grandeur that would make a king feel underdressed. The estate sprawled out before him in all its marble and chandelier glory. It was the kind of place where the floors sparkled under the glow of opulent fixtures, and every corner seemed to whisper tales of old money and impeccable taste. Logan took it all in with a mixture of awe and begrudging respect.

He pushed through the massive double doors, which opened with a creak that seemed to say, “Welcome to the land of the rich and ridiculously privileged.” The marble lobby was bathed in a soft, natural light that filtered through high arched windows, casting a warm glow over everything. Logan's boots made a dull thud against the marble as he walked in, a stark contrast to the silent elegance of the place. His own scuffed, worn-out shoes were a far cry from the polished perfection that surrounded him.

Logan glanced around, taking in the elegant furniture and tasteful decorations—each piece meticulously chosen to scream luxury. It was all a bit much, really. His small, dimly lit apartment felt like a lifetime away from this place. He was used to grimy street corners and dingy warehouses, not this plush extravagance. He felt a twinge of discomfort, as if he was an imposter at a very high-society masquerade.

Then he saw her. Y/N Sinclair. She was standing by the grand staircase, waiting for him with an air of cool composure that was both intriguing and slightly infuriating. The way she carried herself with a blend of youthful enthusiasm and restrained annoyance made it clear she wasn’t thrilled to see him. She was striking—no doubt about it. Her beauty was understated yet captivating, and her dark hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, framing her face in a way that made her sharp, green eyes even more arresting. Those eyes were curious but had an edge that suggested she was ready to be unimpressed.

Logan approached her with a professional detachment that was more an act of self-preservation than anything else. His dark suit felt like a costume he wore to fit in with this high-society circus, and it contrasted sharply with Y/N’s more casual attire—a simple blouse and jeans. He knew the suit was his attempt to blend in, but it felt like it was doing the opposite. He couldn’t help but admire the way she looked, though he kept it buried under a layer of gruff professionalism.

Y/N turned to face him as he drew near, her expression a mix of guarded curiosity and subtle skepticism. She extended her hand, and Logan took it, shaking it firmly. “Mr. Logan, I presume?”

“Ms. Sinclair,” Logan replied, his voice low and gravelly. “I’ll be your bodyguard for the duration of this assignment. My job is to ensure your safety.”

Y/N withdrew her hand and crossed her arms, her posture defensive. “I’m not sure why I need a bodyguard. I’m just going about my daily life. Surely that’s manageable.”

Logan couldn’t help but let a hint of sarcasm slip through. “It’s not just about managing; it’s about making sure you don’t get yourself into a world of trouble. There’ve been credible threats against you, and it’s my job to keep you safe. I’ll be tagging along wherever you go, making sure nothing goes south.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a slight frown, and she glanced around the opulent lobby, clearly uncomfortable with the intrusion into her personal space. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to this, won’t I?”

Logan noticed the flicker of frustration in her eyes. He could see she was trying to reconcile the grandeur of her surroundings with the reality of having her freedom curtailed. “We’ll figure out a way to make this as smooth as possible. I know it’s not ideal, but it’s necessary given the circumstances.”

Y/N huffed softly, her frustration palpable. “I’ve always valued my independence. Having someone shadow me every step of the way feels like an invasion of privacy.”

Logan’s expression softened, though he kept his tone steady. “I get that. It’s a hell of an adjustment. My job is to be as unobtrusive as possible while making sure you stay safe. I’ll try not to step on your toes more than necessary.”

Y/N’s gaze softened a little, though her defensiveness was still there. “I appreciate that you’re trying to be considerate. But can you at least explain what you’ll be doing? How is this going to work?”

Logan nodded, thankful for the chance to lay out the plan. “Sure thing. My primary duties will include keeping you company during any public or private events, assessing potential risks, and coordinating with local security. I’ll also be on the lookout for any threats and making sure your day-to-day activities are as safe as possible. I’ll be around, but I’ll try to keep it low-key.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly still skeptical. “And what if I decide to go somewhere or do something without you?”

Logan considered her question, knowing it was a crucial point. “If you decide to go out on your own, I’ll need to check out your destination and who you’ll be with. It’s not about limiting your freedom, but about making sure you’re safe. We’ll work together to plan your activities in a way that keeps you secure while respecting your autonomy.”

Y/N sighed, a sound that was equal parts frustration and resignation. “I suppose that makes sense. I’m just not used to having someone constantly watching over me.”

Logan offered a reassuring smile, though he was aware of the fine line he had to walk. “I understand. It’s going to take some getting used to, but I’m here to make this process as smooth as possible. If you have any concerns or preferences, just let me know.”

Y/N’s eyes met his, and for a moment, the skepticism seemed to wane. She gave a small, begrudging nod. “Alright. I guess we’ll have to make the best of this situation.”

Logan’s smile remained professional, but he felt a flicker of relief. “Thanks for being understanding. I’ll do my best to ensure this is as smooth and secure as possible for you.”

Y/N led him through the residence, her pace steady as she showed him the key areas he needed to know. As they walked through the grand halls, she pointed out various rooms and gave a brief overview of her daily schedule. Logan couldn’t help but notice the opulence of the surroundings—the rich tapestries on the walls, the polished wood of the furniture—all of it spoke of a life he was only beginning to understand.

During the tour, Y/N maintained a polite distance, though there was a formality in her demeanor that made it clear she was still adjusting to the situation. Logan observed her closely, noting the way she moved and spoke. She was a study in contrasts: graceful yet guarded, confident yet clearly struggling with the invasion of her privacy.

As they reached her personal quarters, Y/N stopped and turned to him with a faint smile. “This is where I’ll be spending most of my time. You’ll have access to this area, but please try to avoid intruding on my private space.”

Logan nodded, feeling the weight of her request. “Understood. I’ll be discreet and respectful of your privacy.”

Y/N’s smile widened slightly, though she was still clearly adjusting. “I appreciate that. Let’s start with a schedule for tomorrow. Do you have any preferences for how you’d like to handle things?”

Logan thought for a moment, weighing his response. “I’d suggest we start by reviewing your planned activities for the day. It’ll help me understand your routine and spot any potential risks. We can also discuss any specific concerns you might have.”

Y/N nodded in agreement. “Alright, let’s do that.”

As they moved on to discuss the details of the upcoming days, Logan found himself increasingly intrigued by Y/N. Despite her initial defensiveness, there were moments when her sharp wit and intelligence shone through. She was passionate about her work and had a clear sense of purpose, which was both admirable and, at times, frustratingly idealistic.

In the evening, as their discussions wrapped up, Y/N offered Logan a hesitant smile. “I guess this isn’t going to be as terrible as I initially thought. Thanks for taking the time to explain everything.”

Logan returned the smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment. “I’m glad to hear that. We’ll address any concerns as they come up. It’s important that you feel comfortable and safe.”

Y/N’s smile grew warmer. “Thanks, Mr. Logan. I suppose you’re not so bad after all.”

Logan chuckled softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As Y/N headed off to her room, Logan remained in the lobby, reflecting on the day’s events. He knew the road ahead would be filled with challenges, both professional and personal. Building rapport with Y/N was just the beginning, and he needed to be prepared for the complexities that would inevitably arise.

He took a deep breath, resolved to tackle the assignment with the same dedication and professionalism he had applied to every previous job. Gaining Y/N’s trust and ensuring her safety would require patience and adaptability. As he prepared for the days ahead, he reminded himself that the success of the assignment hinged not just on protecting Y/N from external threats, but also on navigating the delicate balance of their evolving relationship.

The next morning, Logan met Y/N at breakfast, ready to dive into the day’s activities. As he observed her, he felt a mix of anticipation and apprehension. The assignment had just begun, and he was acutely aware that the dynamics between them would shape their time together. Y/N greeted him with a more relaxed demeanor, and Logan took it as a positive sign.

He knew that the coming days would be crucial in building a rapport and establishing a sense of trust. With each interaction, Logan hoped to not only fulfill his duties but also make Y/N feel as comfortable and secure as possible. Logan’s initial days with the Sinclairs were a whirlwind of adjustments and observations.

Their interactions were a delicate dance of professionalism and personal boundaries. Y/N, though initially resistant, began to show signs of acceptance. The tension from their first meeting gradually eased, replaced by a tentative cooperation. Logan observed her routines and preferences, making adjustments to his approach as needed. He found that Y/N’s defensiveness was often a mask for her underlying vulnerability. She had been thrust into a world of scrutiny and expectation, and his presence was a constant reminder of her lack of control.

Logan’s role went beyond just being a physical presence; it was about understanding the subtleties of Y/N’s world and adapting to them. The Sinclair estate was a world apart from his usual environment, but he approached the challenge with the same focus and determination he applied to his work. He made it a point to blend into the background, allowing Y/N the space she needed while remaining vigilant. Their conversations gradually became less formal, and Y/N began to open up about her life and the pressures she faced. Logan learned about her aspirations, her struggles with her public image, and her desire for a more ordinary life. It was clear that beneath the veneer of wealth and privilege, Y/N was grappling with her own set of challenges.

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

Building trust with Y/N Sinclair wasn’t a walk in the park. It was a constant grind, a mix of small wins and the occasional fuck-up. Logan knew that his success in this gig wasn’t just about keeping her safe; it was also about breaking down the walls between them and making her feel at ease. He was working on making their interactions more than just a transactional deal—he was in it to build some real rapport.

One evening, after a day that felt like it never ended—meetings, events, and more meetings—Y/N approached Logan with a thoughtful look on her face. The day’s chaos had left them both a bit drained, but there was something different in the way she spoke to him.

“You know, Mr. Logan,” she started, her tone softer than usual, “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m actually starting to appreciate having you around. It’s been weird, having someone breathing down my neck all the time, but I’m beginning to see that there’s some value in it.”

Logan gave her a genuine smile, feeling a bit of relief. “I’m glad to hear that. I know it’s not exactly the most comfortable situation, and I really appreciate you sticking with it. My goal is to make this as smooth as possible for you.”

Y/N’s face relaxed a bit, and she seemed to be weighing her next words carefully. “I get that. And I can see you’re trying to help. It’s just… sometimes it feels like there’s this invisible wall between us. Like, I’m always having to explain myself or justify my actions.”

Logan took a moment to let that sink in. “I get it. It’s a tough balance—trying to respect your privacy while also making sure you’re safe. If there’s anything specific you need or any way I can make this easier, just let me know.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and there was a flicker of vulnerability in them. “Actually, there is something. I’ve got some personal stuff going on, and it would be nice if you could give me a bit of space to handle it. I don’t want to push you away, but I also need some time to sort things out on my own.”

Logan’s face showed genuine empathy. “I appreciate you being honest with me. I’ll give you the space you need, but remember, I’m here if you need anything or if the situation changes.”

Y/N’s smile was the kind that made it clear she meant it. It wasn’t just a polite gesture; it was real. “Thanks, Mr. Logan. I’m starting to feel like we’re actually getting somewhere.”

Logan’s role as her bodyguard had shifted from just being a protector to becoming someone she could actually talk to—a confidant and a source of stability in her chaotic world. The initial awkwardness and tension had given way to a growing mutual respect. They were finding their groove, and it wasn’t just about being professional anymore. Y/N’s trust in Logan was becoming more evident. Their conversations were less formal, and she seemed more comfortable opening up about her life and her struggles. Logan had noticed that Y/N’s walls were coming down, bit by bit. She was starting to let him in, and that was a significant shift from their early interactions.

Logan was adapting well to the changes. He found himself more attuned to Y/N’s needs and concerns. The balance between professional duty and personal connection was delicate, but he was managing it. It wasn’t just about being her bodyguard anymore; it was about being someone she could rely on, someone who understood the complexities of her life. One evening, after a particularly intense day, they found themselves in a more relaxed setting. Y/N had just finished a call that left her visibly frustrated. Logan, sensing the opportunity, decided to push the boundaries a bit. He leaned against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You know,” he said, his tone more playful than usual, “for someone who’s constantly surrounded by people, you seem to spend a lot of time looking like you need a drink.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression a mix of surprise and amusement. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Logan shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “Just saying, you’ve got that ‘I need a drink and a vacation’ look. And if you’re ever up for some company, I might know a place that serves a mean cocktail.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but trying to keep her composure. “You’re quite the charmer, Mr. Logan.”

Logan laughed, his tone light and easy. “Hey, it’s all part of the job. If I can make you smile or take your mind off things, then I’m doing my job right.”

Y/N’s smile widened, and there was a warmth in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I guess you’ve got a point. And maybe I do need a break from all this craziness.”

The shift in their interactions was palpable. Logan’s attempts at humor and casual conversation were breaking down the last of the barriers between them. Y/N seemed more relaxed, and there was a newfound ease in their interactions. Logan’s role was no longer confined to the professional realm; he was becoming a friend, someone who understood the weight of her world.

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What had started as a distant and necessary alliance had morphed into something more layered and intense. Neither of them had anticipated the emotional currents that would come to define their relationship. Y/N’s initial irritation with Logan’s constant presence had eased into a grudging acceptance. She had started to see the value in his unyielding vigilance, even if it was a constant reminder of the danger she faced. Their shared moments—whether it was casual chats or the occasional laugh—began to blur the lines between professional duty and personal connection.

Logan, for his part, found himself increasingly drawn into Y/N’s world. The boundaries he had originally maintained started to dissolve. His protective instincts, sharp and well-honed, began to stray into a more personal territory. Though he masked his growing attachment with professionalism, Y/N could sense the change.

The first real crack in their evolving relationship came with Tom, an artist Y/N had met at a charity event. Tom was charismatic and effortlessly charming, a stark contrast to Logan’s usually stoic demeanor. He and Y/N had hit it off, and soon, they were collaborating on a project that was deeply personal to her. One evening, after a lively gathering that left them both a bit drained, Y/N and Logan found themselves alone in her apartment. The living room was softly lit by a lamp, the remnants of their evening—half-empty wine glasses and the faint echo of music—lingering in the air.

“Tom’s been amazing,” Y/N said, her eyes practically glowing with excitement. “We’ve been making incredible progress on the project. He’s so creative—his ideas are just... phenomenal. We’ve been working late into the night, and it’s been really inspiring.”

Logan’s usual composure started to crack. He stood rigid, his voice coming out sharper than intended. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Tom lately,” he said, barely hiding his frustration. “I’ve noticed how close you’ve become.”

Y/N’s excitement faltered, replaced by confusion. “Tom’s just a friend. We’re working on something together. What’s the problem?”

Logan’s irritation bubbled up. “It’s not just about the project. I’ve seen how you interact with him, and I don’t fucking like it. I don’t trust him. I’m here to keep you safe, and I don’t like the idea of you being so close to someone I don’t know well.”

Y/N’s face flared with a mix of hurt and anger. “You’re not my goddamn guardian, Logan. I don’t need you deciding who I can or can’t be friends with. Tom’s been nothing but supportive. Just because you don’t know him doesn’t mean he’s a threat.”

Logan’s frustration turned into outright anger. “It’s not about controlling you. It’s about your fucking safety. I’ve seen too many situations where people who seem harmless end up being anything but. My job is to protect you, and that means being cautious about who you spend time with.”

Y/N stood up abruptly, her movements sharp. “You’re crossing a line here, Logan. I appreciate your protection, but this is my life. I’m not some fragile doll that needs to be guarded every second. I deserve the freedom to make my own choices and trust the people I want to trust.”

Logan’s anger flared, his voice rising. “It’s not about mistrusting you. It’s about making sure you’re fucking safe. I can’t just ignore potential risks, especially when I’m responsible for your well-being.”

Y/N’s voice wavered between anger and hurt. “You don’t get to decide who I can and can’t be close to. I understand you’re doing your job, but you need to respect my autonomy. I’m not asking you to like Tom, but I am asking you to trust me.”

Logan’s face was a mask of internal conflict. “Trust is hard for me, Y/N. I’ve been in situations where trust was fucking shattered, and it makes you wary. But I’m trying to find a balance here. I don’t want to jeopardize our working relationship or make you feel controlled.”

Y/N’s anger slowly melted into sadness. “I need you to understand that I’m not asking for special treatment or to be shielded from the world. I just want to live my life without feeling like I’m under constant surveillance. I need you to trust me, just as much as I’m trying to trust you.”

Logan’s shoulders sagged, the weight of the argument pressing down on him. “I do trust you, Y/N. It’s just that my instincts are hard to turn off. I’m used to being on high alert, especially when it comes to someone I care about.”

Y/N’s expression softened as she absorbed his words. “I get that you care, and I appreciate your dedication. But there has to be a middle ground where I can have my space and make my own decisions without feeling suffocated.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, charged with the unspoken emotions of both. Logan wrestled with his internal conflict, realizing his protective instincts were beginning to cloud his judgment. Y/N struggled with asserting her independence while acknowledging Logan’s genuine concern.

After a long pause, Logan finally spoke, his voice softer and more measured. “I don’t want to be the cause of tension between us. Maybe we can find a way to balance your safety with your need for autonomy. I just need you to understand where I’m coming from.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her eyes reflecting a mix of relief and frustration. “I appreciate that. Let’s work on finding that balance together. I don’t want us to be at odds, but I also need to feel like I have control over my own life.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he took a deep breath. “Agreed. We’ll figure it out. I’ll try to be more mindful of your need for space while still doing my job.”

Y/N offered a tentative smile, signaling her willingness to move forward. “Thank you. I’m sure we can make this work.”

The next few days were tense but marked by small, deliberate efforts from both sides to bridge the gap that had opened up between them. Logan made a conscious effort to respect Y/N’s autonomy, giving her space while maintaining his vigilant presence. Y/N, in turn, tried to understand the depth of Logan’s protective instincts, recognizing that his intentions, though sometimes misguided, were rooted in genuine concern. One evening, as they found themselves in a more relaxed setting—Logan had just returned from a long day and Y/N was unwinding with a book—Logan decided to try to lighten the mood. He plopped down on the couch next to her, a mischievous grin on his face.

“You know,” he said, his tone playful, “if you’re ever tired of working late with Tom, I know a great spot for drinks. Just saying.”

Y/N looked up from her book, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “You’re really laying it on thick, aren’t you?”

Logan chuckled, leaning in a bit closer. “Hey, I’m just trying to make sure you’re not drowning in work. Plus, it’s not every day I get to see you unwind. You deserve a break.”

Y/N’s smile widened, and she shook her head. “You’re incorrigible. But I appreciate the offer. Maybe I’ll take you up on it.”

Logan’s grin widened, feeling a rare sense of triumph. “That’s what I like to hear. And who knows? Maybe I’ll finally get to meet this Tom guy. Make sure he knows who’s really looking out for you.”

Y/N laughed, a genuine sound that made Logan’s heart skip a beat. But just as he was about to make another playful comment, her phone buzzed. She glanced at it and her smile faltered slightly.

“It’s Tom,” she said, showing him the screen. “He’s just checking in about our project.”

Logan’s mood shifted abruptly. He forced himself to mask the pang of jealousy, but his irritation was palpable. “Right. Well, tell Tom I said hi. Or better yet, let’s talk about something else. How’s your day been otherwise?”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the change in Logan’s demeanor. “My day’s been fine. Why?”

Logan’s voice came out sharper than he intended. “Just curious. You seem pretty wrapped up in this project with Tom.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you seriously jealous of Tom? He’s just a friend, Logan. It’s not like we’re going to get married or something.”

Logan’s frustration boiled over. “It’s not about jealousy. It’s about the fact that you’re spending all this time with him and I’m left feeling like a third wheel. It’s my job to keep you safe, and seeing you get so close to someone I don’t know well just pisses me off.”

Y/N stood up, her patience wearing thin. “You’re being ridiculous. Tom’s not a threat. You’re overreacting.”

Logan’s voice rose, unable to keep his anger in check. “It’s not about overreacting. It’s about making sure you’re fucking safe. I’m here to do a job, and I can’t just ignore potential risks, even if it means coming off as a jealous asshole.”

Y/N’s face turned red with frustration. “You need to get over yourself, Logan. I’m not a child. I deserve to make my own decisions without feeling like I’m being controlled.”

Logan’s anger started to crack as he saw the hurt in Y/N’s eyes. His voice softened, a mixture of regret and vulnerability. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off like that. It’s just... sometimes it’s hard to switch off the part of me that’s always on high alert.”

Y/N’s anger ebbed away, replaced by a more measured sadness. “I get that you care, but you need to trust me. I’m asking for a bit of space and the freedom to make my own choices. I’m not asking for special treatment.”

Logan’s expression softened, a mix of guilt and longing in his eyes. “I do trust you, Y/N. It’s just... it’s hard for me to let go sometimes. I’ve been through a lot, and it makes it tough to just let things be. But I’m trying. I really am.”

Y/N’s eyes softened as she looked at him. “I appreciate that. I know you’re trying, but we need to find a balance where we both feel comfortable. I need to feel like I have control over my own life.”

Logan nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You’re right. We need to find that balance. I don’t want to be the cause of tension between us.”

Y/N’s expression was a mix of relief and resolve. “Good. Let’s work on it together. I don’t want us to be at odds, but I also need to feel respected and trusted.”

Logan took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. “Agreed. I’ll work on being more mindful of your space while still keeping you safe. And, for what it’s worth, I want to be honest with you about something.”

Y/N looked at him, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

Logan hesitated for a moment, then spoke with a raw honesty. “These past few months, spending time with you—it’s been... I don’t know, something I didn’t expect. I’ve been so used to being alone, and having you around, it’s... changed things for me. I’ve been trying to fight it, but I have feelings for you, Y/N. You’ve become a part of my life in a way I didn’t think was possible.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, a mix of surprise and emotion flickering across her face. “Logan, I... I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

Logan looked down, feeling a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. “I’m sorry if I’ve been overbearing. I didn’t mean to come off as a controlling asshole. It’s just that you’ve become important to me. I want to protect you, not just because it’s my job, but because... because I care about you.”

Y/N took a deep breath, processing his words. “I appreciate your honesty, Logan. It means a lot. And I want you to know that I care about you too. I just need to find a way where we can both feel comfortable and respected.”

Logan’s face softened, a tentative smile forming. “Yeah, I think we can figure it out. We just need to communicate and understand each other better.” Y/N nodded, a small, genuine smile on her lips. “Agreed. Let’s work on it. Together.

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

The weeks wore on, and Logan's feelings for Y/N twisted into a dark, consuming obsession. What had started as a protective instinct soon spiraled into a desperate need to control every aspect of her life. His once-guarded professionalism eroded, replaced by an all-consuming jealousy that tainted every interaction Y/N had with others.

It was clear to everyone around them—if they cared to notice—that Logan’s possessiveness was turning into a problem. He scrutinized Y/N’s every move with a vigilance that bordered on the obsessive. What had initially seemed like simple concern now looked more like an all-out invasion of her personal space. Each friendly interaction Y/N had with other men seemed to send Logan into a fit of barely-contained rage.

The turning point came at a gallery opening where Y/N was showcasing her latest collection. The event was buzzing with art enthusiasts and critics, all eager to discuss Y/N’s work. Logan had been assigned to discreetly monitor the event, but his attempts at maintaining his usual detachment quickly fell apart. He stationed himself on the edge of the crowd, ostensibly to observe, but his gaze was fixated on Y/N.

Y/N, radiant in her element, moved gracefully through the crowd. Her laughter rang out clearly and genuinely as she engaged with admirers. Every compliment, every interaction with other men seemed to deepen Logan’s unease. His jealousy flared at every friendly pat on the back, every animated conversation. The sight of her mingling with others was like a knife to his gut, sparking a storm of irrationality within him.

By the time the gallery event wound down, Logan was a bundle of barely contained frustration. His usually controlled eyes burned with a simmering intensity that he struggled to mask. As Y/N returned to her apartment, Logan’s tension was palpable, his earlier attempt to maintain a façade of professionalism slipping away the moment they were alone.

Y/N, sensing the shift in Logan’s demeanor, eyed him with a mix of curiosity and concern. “You seem off tonight. Everything okay?”

Logan’s voice was taut with irritation. “Oh, you know, just the usual. You were the fucking center of attention tonight. Surrounded by a bunch of guys. It pissed me off.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock and frustration. “Seriously? You’re complaining about me interacting with people at my own event? It’s part of my job, Logan. You’re being unreasonable.”

Logan’s face twisted with conflicted rage. “It’s not just about being unreasonable. Seeing you with those other men... it fucking kills me. I can’t stand it. I know it’s irrational, but I just... I can’t fucking help it.”

Y/N’s frustration boiled over. She crossed her arms and stared him down. “This isn’t about your feelings of insecurity. It’s about control. You can’t dictate every aspect of my professional life. It’s unhealthy.”

Logan’s anger surged, his voice rising. “It’s not about controlling you. I’m just trying to protect you. Every time I see you laughing and talking with other guys, it feels like I’m losing my grip on something important. I don’t even know why it’s hitting me so hard now.”

Y/N’s eyes softened with empathy but her voice remained firm. “You need to separate your personal issues from your professional duties. This obsession is affecting our working relationship and your ability to do your job.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. “I get it. I know I’m crossing lines. I’m supposed to be professional, but these feelings... they’re like a fucking storm I can’t control. I haven’t felt anything like this in years. I’ve always kept my feelings in check, but with you... it’s different. It’s like I’m losing you every time you’re with someone else.”

Y/N’s frustration was tempered with a note of compassion. “Logan, you’re not losing me. But your jealousy and possessiveness are getting out of hand. It’s not fair to me or to you. We need to confront this head-on. If we don’t, it’s only going to get worse.”

Logan’s face was a mix of anger, regret, and confusion. “I don’t know how to handle this. I’ve never been this fucked up before. It’s like I’m trapped between wanting to keep you safe and being overwhelmed by my own feelings. I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice softening but her tone serious. “Logan, we both need to be honest here. Your feelings are clouding your judgment. And it’s affecting our relationship. We need to talk about boundaries and expectations, or this is just going to keep spiraling.”

Logan’s gaze met hers with a mix of vulnerability and resolve. “You’re right. We need to clear the air. I don’t want to be a fucking burden or let my emotions ruin everything we’ve worked for.”

Y/N’s eyes held a mixture of relief and determination. “Let’s tackle this head-on. We need to be clear about our boundaries and communicate openly. It’s important for both of us.”

Logan’s voice wavered slightly as he took a deep breath. “There’s something I’ve never told you before. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Not in a long time. I’ve always kept my emotions in check, especially with my... unique abilities. But with you, it’s different. I fucking care about you, Y/N. More than I ever thought possible. I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N’s expression softened, a mix of surprise and emotion flickering in her eyes. “I didn’t realize... I mean, I’ve felt something too. I’ve been trying to figure it out. I guess... I care about you too, Logan. But we need to get through this mess if we’re going to have anything.”

Logan looked at her with a mixture of hope and apprehension. “I know. I just want to make things right. I want us to be able to work together and be... whatever this is between us. But we need to sort this out first.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze steady and warm. “We can work through this. But it’s going to take effort from both of us. Let’s be honest and clear about what we need from each other.”

The conversation left them both emotionally drained, the weight of their confession hanging heavily between them. But Logan’s struggles with jealousy and obsession didn’t end with that discussion. If anything, his behavior grew increasingly erratic.

One evening, Y/N was preparing for a dinner with a potential new client. Logan was supposed to be on duty, maintaining his usual professional distance, but his simmering jealousy soon erupted. Y/N, unaware of the storm brewing within him, was in the midst of selecting an outfit for the occasion.

Logan’s voice cut through the quiet of the apartment, sharp and tinged with frustration. “So, who’s this fucking client you’re meeting tonight?”

Y/N glanced at him, taken aback by his abrupt tone. “Just a potential client, Logan. Why does it matter?”

Logan’s jaw tightened as he paced the room. “It matters because you’re going out again. And every time you go out, I fucking worry. You don’t see the problem here?”

Y/N’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion and irritation. “You’re seriously doing this again? This is a professional meeting. It’s part of my job. You can’t just flip out every time I leave the house.”

Logan’s frustration was barely contained. “It’s not just about you leaving. It’s about who you’re with, where you’re going. Every fucking time I see you with someone else, I lose my mind. I can’t stand it.”

Y/N’s patience was wearing thin. “Logan, this isn’t healthy. You’re crossing boundaries. I need you to understand that I’m not some possession you can control.”

Logan’s face flushed with anger, his voice rising. “Control? Fuck, Y/N, this isn’t about control. I care about you—more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And it’s tearing me apart to see you with other people. I fucking love you, but this shit is driving me insane!”

Y/N’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and exasperation. “You can’t just use ‘love’ as an excuse for this behavior. Your obsession is suffocating me. It’s not fair to me or to you. You need to get a fucking grip on yourself.”

Logan’s anger morphed into desperation. “I don’t know how to stop it. I can’t control these feelings. Every time you’re out with someone else, it feels like I’m losing you. I fucking hate it. I know it’s wrong, but it’s like I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Y/N’s expression softened slightly, though her frustration remained. “I get that you’re struggling, but your feelings are hurting both of us. You need to deal with your jealousy instead of letting it control you. This isn’t a healthy way to handle things.”

Logan’s voice broke with frustration and regret. “I know. I know it’s not right. I’m trying to fucking deal with it, but it’s hard. I love you so much, Y/N. More than I ever thought possible. But I can’t stand the thought of you being with someone else. It’s like I’m losing a part of myself.”

Y/N’s frustration was tempered by a note of compassion. “You need to find a way to manage these feelings, Logan. We can’t keep going like this. It’s eating away at us both. I need you to get help or find a way to handle this without letting it ruin everything.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped as he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “I don’t want to lose you. I’ll try—fuck, I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. But I need your help. I need us to work through this together.”

Y/N’s gaze held a mixture of relief and determination. “We can work through this. But it’s going to take effort from both of us. We need to be clear about what we need and establish boundaries. If we don’t, this will just keep spiraling.” Logan nodded, his expression a mix of hope and apprehension. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I just want us to be okay.”

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

Logan’s behavior had hit a breaking point. It wasn’t just about his discomfort anymore; it was clear that his obsessive and controlling tendencies were wreaking havoc on both his professional effectiveness and his relationship with Y/N. The last straw came during an intense argument, which forced Logan to face the harsh reality of his situation. Y/N, frustrated and exhausted by his increasingly intrusive behavior, had finally pushed him to seek professional help.

Logan was hesitant. The thought of spilling his deepest insecurities to a stranger was daunting. But he knew something had to change. His first visit to Dr. Lee, the therapist Y/N had recommended, was marked by a palpable sense of dread. The office was a stark contrast to the chaos in Logan’s mind: soft lighting, calming colors, and comfortable seating created an environment that felt foreign to him.

Dr. Lee, a middle-aged woman with a welcoming smile, greeted Logan with a warm tone. “Hi, Logan. It’s good to meet you. Y/N told me a bit about why you’re here. Can you tell me what’s been going on?”

Logan sat down in the plush armchair, shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah, uh, I’m here because I’m really fucking up. I’m working as a bodyguard for this woman, Y/N. And lately, I’ve been way too overprotective. It’s messing up my work and screwing up my relationship with her.”

Dr. Lee nodded, her expression open and encouraging. “It sounds like you’re dealing with some complex emotions. What specifically has been troubling you about your interactions with Y/N?”

Logan’s frustration was evident in his voice. “It’s like I’m obsessing over her safety to the point where it’s consuming me. I can’t stand the idea of her being around other people, especially men. It drives me fucking crazy.”

Dr. Lee leaned forward slightly, her tone gentle yet probing. “It sounds like your feelings of jealousy and control are pretty intense. Have you noticed any specific triggers that make these feelings worse?”

Logan thought for a moment, his hands fidgeting. “Yeah, it’s mainly when I see her interacting with other guys, like at social events or when she’s working with them. I get this surge of anger and possessiveness, and I can’t manage it.”

Dr. Lee responded thoughtfully. “Jealousy and possessiveness often come from underlying insecurities or fears. Can you think of any past experiences that might be influencing how you feel now?”

Logan’s gaze grew distant as he reflected. “I’ve had some shitty relationships in the past. I guess I’ve always been scared of losing something valuable. Y/N means a lot to me, and I think my fear of losing her is driving these intense feelings.”

Dr. Lee nodded in understanding. “Past experiences can definitely shape our current behaviors. One approach we can take is to work on identifying and addressing these underlying insecurities. We’ll also explore strategies to help you manage your emotions and develop healthier relationship patterns.”

As the sessions continued, Dr. Lee used a mix of cognitive-behavioral therapy and mindfulness techniques. Each session began with a review of Logan’s recent experiences and emotions. Dr. Lee would then guide him through exercises designed to challenge and reframe his thought patterns.

During one session, Dr. Lee introduced a mindfulness exercise. “Logan, let’s try a mindfulness exercise to help you become more aware of your emotional triggers. I want you to close your eyes and focus on your breathing. Notice any sensations or thoughts that come up without judging them.”

Logan followed her instructions, his breathing slow and steady. Dr. Lee continued, “When a thought or feeling arises, acknowledge it and let it pass. This exercise helps you observe your emotions without letting them overwhelm you.”

After the exercise, Logan spoke with a sense of calm. “I can see how this might help me manage my reactions. It’s like I’m more aware of how my emotions are affecting me.”

Dr. Lee responded, “Mindfulness can be a powerful tool for recognizing and regulating emotions. Alongside this practice, we’ll work on developing strategies to address the insecurities that fuel your possessiveness.”

Y/N, meanwhile, was struggling to maintain her sense of autonomy. Logan’s intrusive behavior was causing her frustration, and she was working on setting clear boundaries. One evening, after a particularly tough day, she invited Logan to a café they both frequented. She hoped the neutral setting would facilitate a productive conversation.

As they sat down, Y/N looked at Logan, her expression a mix of determination and exhaustion. “Logan, we need to talk. I’m really struggling with your behavior. It’s affecting my work and my personal space.”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I’m fucking up. I’ve been seeing Dr. Lee, trying to deal with this shit. But I know it’s not enough. I need to hear it from you. What do you need from me?”

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice steady but firm. “I need you to respect my boundaries. You can’t control who I interact with or how I handle my work. You need to manage your emotions and stop letting them dictate your behavior.”

Logan’s voice was filled with regret. “I get it. I’m trying to deal with my feelings, but it’s fucking hard. I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. I’m really sorry for how I’ve been acting.”

Y/N’s expression softened, though her frustration remained. “I appreciate that you’re trying, but it’s a two-way street. I need you to take concrete steps to address your behavior. It’s not just about saying sorry—it’s about making real changes.”

Logan nodded, his face a mix of hope and determination. “I’m committed to making changes. I want us to be okay. I’ll keep working with Dr. Lee and do whatever it takes to fix this.”

Y/N’s eyes held a note of resolve. “That’s a start. But we need to set clear boundaries and communicate openly. If we don’t, this situation will just keep spiraling.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped as he took a deep breath. “I understand. I’ll work on it. I just want to get things back on track. I care about you, and I don’t want my shit to ruin everything.” Y/N nodded, her gaze steady. “We can work through this. But it’s going to take effort from both of us. We need to be clear about what we need and stick to it.”

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

As weeks went by, Logan’s commitment to managing his possessiveness began to show real results. The therapy sessions with Dr. Lee were making a noticeable difference. Logan was learning to handle his intense emotions better and to communicate more effectively with Y/N. The transformation wasn’t overnight, but it was significant enough for Y/N to notice the positive changes.

One evening, after a particularly successful week where Logan had navigated social events and professional responsibilities with newfound composure, they decided to celebrate with a quiet dinner at their favorite spot. The restaurant was cozy, with soft lighting and mellow music that set a relaxing mood.

Logan and Y/N settled into their booth, the ambience a stark contrast to the tension that once marked their interactions. Logan, usually so guarded, was now more relaxed, though there was still a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. As they enjoyed their meal, Logan took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice carrying a mix of sincerity and vulnerability, “I’ve been thinking a lot about us. I know I’ve been a total mess sometimes, but I’ve never been more sure about anything than how I feel about you. I’ve been working hard to get things right, and I want you to know that you mean the world to me.”

Y/N looked up from her plate, a playful glint in her eyes. “Oh? And what exactly does that mean, Mr. Brooding Bodyguard?”

Logan’s cheeks turned a shade of pink, but he grinned. “It means that despite all the chaos, I’m ready to make it official. I want you to be my girlfriend. I promise I’ll try to be less of a mess and more of the guy who makes you laugh.”

Y/N’s laughter rang out, light and genuine. “Well, I was starting to think you’d make me wait forever. I’ve actually been hoping you’d say something like this.”

Logan’s face lit up with relief and joy. “So, you’re saying yes?”

Y/N leaned in, her eyes sparkling with affection. “Yes, Logan. I’m saying yes. But just so you know, I’m holding you to that promise about being less of a mess.”

Logan’s grin widened. “Deal. I’ll work on being the guy who makes you laugh and maybe the guy who gets to kiss you goodnight.”

Their conversation continued, filled with playful banter and flirtatious exchanges. Logan’s progress was evident not just in his words but in his actions. He had become more attuned to Y/N’s needs, more respectful of her boundaries, and more capable of managing his emotions. The following week was a whirlwind of events, each one showcasing Logan’s growth. At a networking event, he managed to maintain his composure even when Y/N had to work closely with a male colleague. Instead of the old pangs of jealousy, Logan was calm and supportive, offering encouragement rather than control.

Logan’s friends, who had witnessed his previous struggles, noticed the change. One evening, while hanging out with them, he was animated and relaxed, something they hadn’t seen in a long time. His friends joked about how they’d never seen him so chill before, and Logan laughed along, his newfound ease evident.

“Man, who are you and what have you done with the old Logan?” one of his friends teased.

Logan chuckled, a genuine smile on his face. “The old Logan’s still around, but he’s been getting some therapy and figuring his shit out. Things are looking up.”

Meanwhile, Y/N had started to see the positive impact of Logan’s efforts on her own sense of well-being. They spent more quality time together, enjoying each other’s company without the constant tension. Y/N felt more secure and appreciated, which only strengthened their bond.

One evening, after another successful week of navigating their evolving relationship, Y/N and Logan found themselves at their favorite café. Logan’s demeanor was relaxed and happy, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at how far they had come.

“Logan, I’ve got to admit, I’m really proud of you,” Y/N said, her voice filled with warmth. “You’ve come a long way, and it’s making a huge difference.”

Logan grinned, reaching across the table to hold her hand. “Thanks, babe. I couldn’t have done it without you. Your support means everything.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her eyes reflecting a mixture of affection and admiration. “Well, I’m glad to be here for you. And I’m excited about where we’re headed.” Logan’s gaze softened, his expression serious but filled with hope. “I am too. I want us to keep moving forward together. I’ve been thinking a lot about us and where we’re headed. I know I’m not perfect, but I want to be with you. I want us to build something real.”

[backwzzds]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ for your love, roronoa zoro

zoro’s actions always spoke louder than his words.

zoro wasn’t a man of many words. he never was. the urge to speak never dawned upon up him unless it was at his captain’s orders. but other than that, people were lucky if they even got a grunt from him, or sight from his one good eye.

but when it came to you, zoro spoke a thousand words in such small gestures.

you didn’t think he listened to you often and would tease him about it, but he’d prove you wrong each and every time. he saw you eyeing a beautiful necklace at an island store? he was willing to put himself in debt of 500% interest with nami over and over again for you.

he noticed that you studied all day with no break? he’d draw you away to come ‘help’ him train. and in reality, that consisted of you and him really going on watch for the sunny, basking in the sun to relax. zoro was the very last person to understand what relax meant, but when it came to you, he made sure to be a master at it.

zoro didn’t need to constantly tell you he loved you for you to believe it. you knew it in the way he held your hand on any island you two were on, knowing how he despised public affection. you knew it in the way he silently protected you. the way he listened to you when it came to voicing your opinion to the team. he made you feel safe in his presence, in his arms, and in his little makeshift bed.

you couldn’t help but admire his commitment to you. you two had been friends before your relationship of course, and you knew how zoro was. he played things off as if he was always bored unless it came to using his swords. you had your doubts on his persistence in a potential relationship with you, but you were so glad that you gave him a chance when you did.

“what’s this?” you look up at him when he rested a foreign object wrapped in brown paper on the kitchen table. zoro grumbled and gestured to the gift, motioning for you to open it. when you did, your eyes couldn’t help bur widen at the prize. “you didn’t, zoro!” you exclaim. “these have been out of season all year we’ve been on sea! we haven’t stopped at a winter island in ages, where did you even get this?!”

in your hands was a natural cold-pressed agave plant oil that you only known to be on the winter island you grew up on. you and the crew haven’t been on a winter island since drum island, and that was more than a year ago. you remember complaining all year how the only serum you knew for sure made your hair grow as a kid was nowhere to be found on your trips.

at your previous question, zoro shrugs his shoulder with closed eyes, hoping he didn’t have to tell you just exactly where or how he obtained the oil he knew was precious to you.

you sniff the object and almost collapse when you get flashes of your childhood. after that, you can’t help but grin at him. “you got lost looking for this, didn’t you?”

your man’s cheeks flush a bright red as he dismissed you. “tch. doesn’t matter how i got it. you have it now, right?” your smile grows wider as you jump into zoro’s arms, already knowing he was gonna catch you as reflex at this point. at your shit eating grin, zoro fumbles underneath you. “stop smiling at me like that, you’re being creepy.”

but his feign for playful banter didn’t hide the fact that he did this for you. that he loved you. emotion can’t help but swell your heart as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a loving kiss.

the smooch was slow; sweet. your full lips swallowed zoro’s tan ones in complete whole as you took your time with him. you didn’t try to assert your dominance with his tongue like you usually did, a playful game between the both of you often when you made out. no, instead, you fully submitted to him and his touch. you knew that if zoro released his hold on you in any type of way, you were gonna turn to immediate putty in his hands.

the marimo undoubtedly felt all your love in your lips as you occasionally pecked them only to return to swallowing them. the sensuality of it all is what he loved. your kisses were never rushed unless they were intended to be. but when you really loved zoro, you made sure he felt it in the slowness of your kisses. in the way that your fingers ran through the small curls of his green hair, silently comforting him.

you felt his tongue tangle in yours as he mindlessly sought for domination. you can’t help but smile into the kiss. such a compete, he was.

you had no idea the things zoro would do to make you happy.

[perseephoneee]

Okay, so I was thinking Hope Mikaleson x Reader. Where they are in a relationship. Where Hope was fighting and kill supernatural people and I forgot to mention that she turned off her humanity. Season 4. She left Salvador school and now she came back to surprised everyone but she sees Reader who was depressed because she was mad at Hope for leaving her and she expected her to be happy but no she was angry at her. Reader walked out not caring and Hope followed her. When Reader screamed at her for leaving, Hope turn her humanity back on and she broke down.

Fluff at the end but angst at the start.

cruelty (hope mikaelson x reader)

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omg i hope this is kinda what you wanted?? i wrote this during class.

It felt unfair for the outside to be sunny and for the fall leaves to twinkle in the light. The sounds of children's laughter echoing, or even the footsteps in the hallway with hushed conversation. You bury your head deeper into your pillow, letting the covers hide you away. Your bed has become a cave of solace. Your mind was a prison of your own design. 

You need to scream. You yearn to be heard. But no one can soothe you; no one bothers. Your heart feels perpetually heavy, this anchor dragging it deeper into your soul. You can't remember the last time you woke up without screaming, your voice raw and scratchy. Any psychologist would say you're depressed. You know what the other feeling is, though— guilt.

You couldn't stop it. You couldn't save her. The woman who changed every ounce of your being, who altered the course of your life in a single smile. She left. You were alone.

Everyone had tried to console you. They brought you meals and whispered niceties. They gave you time to process and to heal. But underneath that sorrow was a boiling, glistening anger.  You rolled over to scream at your ceiling.

"Fuck your, Hope Mikaelson."

"Is that really the welcome I get?"

You sat up, believing the phantom at the door to your bedroom to be exactly that— a ghost. Except the way she leaned against your doorframe, all ego, that was corporeal.

"Hope," you say, brows furrowed. She smiles, no humanity in her eyes.

"I was going for some more fanfare," she stepped into the room. You forced yourself to not recoil. Or to launch yourself out of bed and hold her close. "This, my dear, is wholly disappointing." 

"Disappointing welcome for a disappointing person," you respond. No reaction. You wonder how deep you'd have to swim to find where her soul is.

"Venom doesn't suit you."

"I grew up," you tilt your head, taking her in. All black, every part of a viper and not the warm individual you initially fell in love with. "You should leave."

"But I just got here," she mopes. "Didn't you miss me?"

"Hope, leave," you roll your eyes, getting out of bed and standing your ground. 

"I have things to do, so no, I won't leave."

"Oh really?" You scoff. "All you do is leave; it's what you're best at."

You see a flicker of…something. You wonder if you imagined it. You must've; there's no way she feels anything at all.

"I was trying to be kind, coming to say hello; I guess you don't want that." She pushes off the door, mannerisms presenting an aura of boredom.

"I don't want excuses from a snake," you chortle. "Especially one like you."

"A snake?" She laughs. That laughter doesn't reach her eyes. "That's pathetic."

"Pathetic isn't the half of it," you match her stance. Arms crossed, eyes narrowed. You feel an inexplicable anger. "Pathetic is running away the second things get hard. Pretending to be anything but Klaus Mikaelson's daughter, as if you aren't the product of the cruelest man in history. When you look in the mirror, do you see any of your mother? Or has she run away from the woman you've become?"

You don't remember feeling angry before, but you feel this anger now.

"I loved you, and that was a mistake. Cruelty suits you. Your heroism was nothing but a facade to hide the coward within. When you snapped Lizzie's neck— was it because you started to realize she was better than you? Did you feel threatened by the fact that you mean nothing in the grand scheme of things? Are you really still that insecure?"

You realize you're being cruel. But god, she's been cruel. And you are so so tired of pretending to be okay with it.

"I am happy you are the devil. It makes it easier to leave," you step towards her, standing face to face. There's that flicker again. "I'm done with you. Now…get the fuck out of my room."

You shove past her, marching down the hall in nothing but a ratty t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants. You look like a mess (you feel like a mess), but standing in the same space as Hope was too hard to bear. Being cruel felt good…it felt like a release. 

The world is spinning as you stumble into the bathroom. The tile is cold beneath your feet, and your hands brace the sink as you suck in deep breaths. You have no clue when you started crying. You turn on the sink and splash cold water on your face, trying to steady the sobs that are consuming your entire being. It's so hard to breathe. You don't remember how to.

You sink to the floor, curling up into yourself as you bury your head in your knees. You feel a hand on your shoulder, someone pulling you close, and you let them. You are so, so lonely. The scent of roses and vanilla is a familiar one, and you inhale as if it's the last time you'll ever be able to. 

Hope holds you until you're done crying, and when you finally pull away, you narrow your eyes in hesitation. 

"I never expected you to call me cruel," she whispers, and she seems different. She looks like the Hope you knew. The one you fell in love with, that was your best friend before she became more. The light in her eyes reflects her humanity. "I didn't realize how much it would hurt."

"I didn't mean—"

"You did," she sighs. You wish she could be more angry with you. "I don't blame you."

"I was just so angry—"

"And I was mean," Hope laughs as a tear drops from her eye. You rarely see her cry. "It was easier to hide than it was to be strong. I'm…sorry for hurting you because of it."

You wipe her tears with your thumb, cradling her face. Her skin is smooth to the touch. 

"Are you back?" You whisper. She looks at you, brows furrowed, before nodding slowly. Almost as if she's afraid to admit it. You let out a choking laugh, kissing her with all the love you'd held in for the months she'd been gone. You kiss her cheeks, nose, lips again, everything you can touch. She laughs, something light and airy that you didn't realize how much you missed. You pull back, holding her at arm's length. "Don't you ever fucking do that again."

"I won't," she says, kissing your cheek. "I promise."

[taurusdaylight]

[6.17pm] one bed for two

jeno was driving back to his apartment. his eyes would glance over to his phone every so often, only to be met with disappointment as he waited for a text or call notification from you to pop up.

earlier today, you had agreed to go over to jeno’s place because it’s been a while since the both of you hung out together. it was a busy season for jeno, and you had countless assignments to complete. the both of you could never find a suitable time to meet. since it was the weekend tomorrow, you thought that it would be a great idea to spend the night together to make up for lost time before the both of you became busy again.

right after his training ended, jeno texted you to let you know that he’d come home immediately after taking a shower in school. however, you have yet to reply him. at first, he was upset because he thought that you might have forgotten about your little stay-home date. now, he was starting to grow worried at your lack of response and wondered if something had happened to you. he could only wish that you were waiting for him at home, not replying to him because you were occupied with something else.

when jeno got home, he didn’t notice any pair of shoes lying around the front door. the lights were also switched off despite the darkening sky. jeno’s heart grew heavy at that. did you really forget that you were supposed to meet? why didn’t you at least inform him if you were too busy?

with heavy footsteps, jeno trudged towards his room. lifting up his duffle bag from his shoulder, he almost threw it on the ground until his eyes landed on a sleeping figure on his bed. 

jeno let out a quiet laugh before he placed his bag down, careful to not wake you up from your slumber. he sat on the corner of his bed, reaching a hand out to move the stray pieces of hair away from your face. he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against your temple.

that action caused you to stir awake, however gentle he was. jeno’s grin grew bigger as you looked at him with sleepy eyes, pressing another kiss on your forehead. “hi baby, did you sleep well?”

you hummed in response, wrapping your arms around jeno’s neck to bring him closer to you. jeno took comfort in your warm embrace, not remembering the last time he could hold you like this. 

burying your face into the crook of his neck, you mumbled, “missed you.” 

“missed you too, baby.” jeno moved his arms down to your waist, lifting you up and moving you ever so slightly so that he could make space for himself on the bed. 

once he finally got the both of you into a comfortable position, jeno said, “you fell asleep on me, i thought something happened to you.” 

“sorry,” you apologised. “i knew i had to take a nap so i came here early. didn’t want to oversleep at home.”

“it’s okay,” jeno reassured while he brought a hand up to pat your head. “i’m just glad you’re here.”

“how was training?” you asked.

“the usual. coach went easy on us today because we have another game soon,” jeno’s reply came slow, evident that he was starting to get sleepy. 

“well, you’re going to kill it! and i’ll be there to watch.” 

jeno let out a chuckle. “thanks, baby. you’re my biggest supporter.”

“always,” you muttered. jeno felt you tighten your arms around him, causing him to do the same. he started playing with the hem of your shirt, sneaking a hand up to rub soft circles on the small of your back. 

meanwhile, jeno’s eyelids got heavier and heavier at the feeling of you playing with his hair. before he completely drifted off to sleep, jeno heard a whisper of “good night” and your soft lips pressed against his. he leaned in closer to your touch, hoping for a moment like this to last forever.

[genderfluid-insomniac]

little regressor reader with wukong and macaque oneshot

You occasionally forgot that sometimes both of your boyfriends stop by without telling you and of course, it had to be the one night you were regressed. Your favorite soft blankets are on the floor with one of them hanging over you like a canopy and one of your favorite plushes in your hand while you watch your favorite movie you watched during your childhood. Your mind is preoccupied with the colorful pictures flashing across the screen on your laptop. When you felt your mind start falling into that fuzzy place you quickly got changed out of your professional work clothes.

The soft and fuzzy fabric clothes eliminate any overstimulation and the yummy snack in the big bowl in front of you with a bag of candy you’d gotten as a reward for all the overtime you had worked this week on the side. When you’re regressed you’re usually non-verbal and have around a 6-year-old mindset but the only ones who even knew were Mei and MK who accidentally found out. The only reason they even found out was that you weren’t answering their texts and burst into your apartment only to see you in your living room watching Bluey happily.

The happy mood quickly changed when you started tearing up and ran into your room hoping that both of you could forget the last couple minutes, it only took a couple of minutes though for them to convince you it was okay and remember you were still regressed. For the next hour, Mei played puppy videos for you while she stopped MK from eating all of your snacks and eventually bingeing a whole season of Monkey King the Animated Series which was mostly MK’s idea. Usually, whenever you felt like you were slipping you would call those two but both of them were busy so you decided to set yourself up with a movie and such for the night.

You ate another piece of candy and were more focused on the movie you were watching when you heard a knock on your window, turned to it with your soft plushie in hand, and locked eyes with both of your boyfriends. Panic shot through you and in an instant, you grabbed your phone, ran into your closet, and shutting it. Wukong and Macaque came over to hang out with you since this week had been busy for all of you but they hadn’t expected this.

Of course, both of their first thoughts were that you were adorable in that outfit and it only made them want to cuddle you even more. “Sunshine, what’s the matter? It’s just us.” the king asked in a concerned tone. However, when they saw you cry in shock at you seeing them Wukong climbed through the window while Macaque portaled in and crouched next to the closet. “What’s wrong, lotus? Is everything okay?” he asked softly and knocked gently on the door. You couldn’t help the whimpers that came out and shakily found Mei’s contact, slowly typing the situation and wiping the tears falling down your cheeks.

Wukong had crouched next to Macaque outside the closet and looked around your room, noticing all the comfy blankets and pillows that created a safe and cozy vibe. It was endearing and frankly adorable to them both but you were in distress and that took priority over anything. You hiccuped but called Mei and put her on speaker as instructed. “It’s alright, Name. I promise that they both won’t judge you and if they do I’ll test if they really are immortal.” Mei said and growled through the phone. Both monkeys stilled when they heard Mei’s threat and Wukong started sputtering out that he’d never judge you only to be hit in the head by the warrior beside him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed tiredly. “Let the dragon girl explain before we go jumping to conclusions.” he groaned and sat down a foot away from the closet, Wukong following him and watching you crack the door open just a bit. You could make out both of them through your tears and slide the phone to them, holding on tight to your plushie and hoping Mei would take care of everything despite not being there. “First off, Name I’m sorry MK and I couldn’t be there and could you pretty please open the door enough to let them see you? Could you also knock when you’ve done it?” she asked and waited till you knocked after opening the door enough, still curling in on yourself and flicking your eyes back and forth.

”Good job, Name! Such a good job!” she praised and you smiled a bit, rubbing your cheek with one hand and sniffling. “Secondly, this is for you both, this is a healthy coping mechanism called age regression that’s used by people who suffer from different kinds of trauma and people mentally and emotionally return to a younger age. It’s not often seen as “normal” by society because people are jerks but the age ranges from person to person. Name is usually around the age of 6 or 7 and normally non-verbal when they regress.” she explained and you teared up again when Mei mentioned how trauma is often a cause, tightly hugging your plushie and staring at the phone when you felt both pairs of eyes on you.

Both simians’ hearts sank when she explained it as a coping mechanism for trauma and how it must have been weighing on you if either of them found out. Macaque got the general idea of it and now understood why you hadn’t spoken at all, interacting wouldn’t be an issue since he was already good at reading micro-expressions and smiling softly at you from across the phone. “Okay, I think I get it now. It should be easy hopefully to pick up from where they left off before we got here and I’m guessing that they’ll be more emotionally sensitive,” he asked and nodded when Mei confirmed as Wukong looked at you with pity.

It must have been nerve-racking keeping this big of a secret from them both and he couldn’t be mad at you for something this safe to you. His tail lay limp on the floor as you tentatively looked up with tears sometimes falling down your cheeks and he reached out a hand before stopping since you still looked a bit scared. The tough chest armor he was wearing didn’t help him seem cuddly and he took it off before leaving in a random corner of your room, standing up much to his partner’s chagrin and walking over to snatch a couple of candies from the bowl you had. “What you doing? Were you listening to anything of what Mei said?” the shadow monkey asked annoyed.

The king carefully sat back down next to him and gave him one of the pieces of candy he had. By now Mei had hung up and given you the phone back. “I was listening and I’m going to help them calm down!” he retorted and popped one of them in his mouth. As expected it tasted tasty and he looked toward Macaque who also copied him, humming when he ate it and shifting his gaze toward you. You pouted when your boyfriend stole three pieces of your favorite candy and narrowed your eyes when Wukong offered the third piece to you.

“Why don’t you have some? It’s yummy!” he said and further stretched out his hand to you, “Also sorry I technically stole it.” You carefully to the candy from his hand and popped it into his mouth while both monkeys bickered with one another. “Wow, THE Great Sage apologized for stealing?” Macaque sassed him and dramatically put a hand on his chest while you unwrapped the candy, smiling at them both and slowly shuffling over to Wukong. You climbed onto his lap and left your plushie on the floor so you could squish his face with both hands. “Wu Wu” you murmured and cooed which got the attention of both lovers.

They both looked at you as they talked to one another while you stayed confused but happily played with the loose bits of clothing. “Didn’t Mei say they didn’t speak when they regressed?” Wukong asked with a raised brow and briefly glanced at you who didn’t seem to have a care in the world at the moment. “No she said they’re normally non-verbal but seeing as we’re their lovers I’m guessing this is going to be usually as it goes. Your nickname is cute though.” he teased him and you then sat on Macaque’s lap, ignoring the eye roll he got. You got distracted by the very soft fabric of his scarf and nuzzled your face into it. “Mac.” you murmured and decided that it was better than most of your blankets.

Wukong started laughing richly and quickly moved to the nearby laptop and unpaused to the movie when Macaque portaled you both over to the blanket-like nest, moving you to face forward and letting you have his scarf while you were regressed. “Someone’s soft aren’t they?” Wukong teased back and wrapped his tail around your waist, ruffling your hair and passing the snacks to you. He then remembered you had dropped your plushie on the ground when you went to hug him and went to get it however you whined when he got up. Both of them found it adorably cute and you gripped his shirt, looking at him and tugging him back to you. They would look forward to this every time you regressed.