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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 days

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You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 14: You're All I'm Dreaming Of

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Soldier Boy 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 fourteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings: References to sex, Mentions of sex (not really explicit), Self-detrimental thoughts, Cursing, Drinking/Snorting Drugs, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from Soldier Boy'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

Masterlist

********************************************

Previously:

"Y/f/n Y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks, an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

You open the door to look at them. "The rapper?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The rapper? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo. Who did you think I meant?" You ask.

*******************************************

Present Day

*Soldier Boy POV*

The longer Ben sat in the motel room the more he thought of you. It wasn’t unusual. Ben was always thinking of you, even before he fucked everything up and before you two became supes, Ben rarely thought about anyone else. He hated that he did that, hated that you were always on his mind because he believed that he shouldn’t care about you as much as he did. Because why would you want someone like him? He was a fuck up before and after the serum and you deserved better. You always had deserved better.

When his cage had finally opened your name had been on his lips. He was ready to see you again, tell you how sorry he was, and how much he loved you. He hoped that it was you finally coming to take him away, but it wasn’t.

Y/n said she never wanted to see you again. Of course it wasn’t her.

He sighs and takes a bite of cheeseburger. His first one in 40 years, that the British fuck had gotten him, but it tastes like sandpaper, because he can't focus on anything but you.

"Well we know a few of your old team members are already dead." Butcher breezes pacing in the dingy motel room. "Countess, Gunpowder, Indigo-"

Ben reaches for his knife to grind up the oxy on the table in front of him, hoping that the pills will bring more relief than the whiskey.

It had been three days since he got out of Russia. Two since he visited Legend, when Legend told him that you were dead and Ben threw Legend's red armchair through the window of his apartment.

When Legend said it, Ben couldn't breathe, couldn't grasp that you were really gone. He didn't want to believe it.

You were all he thought the past 40 years, you were the only reason why he wanted to get the fuck out of Russia. He hated himself for what he had done, felt that he deserved the torture, but it was nothing compared to how he had tortured himself over the years.

The last thing he said to you often replayed in his mind and the way you looked when he said it burned against his eyes at night. He hadn't meant to hurt you, he didn't want to hurt you, never did. You were his oldest friend, the only person he knew that could be honest with him, call him out on all his shit, the only person who knew the real him, and the only person he could trust to be the voice of reason when he lost his temper.

And he threw you away like you meant nothing to him, when you were the only person who meant everything, the one person that he actually gave a fuck about.

Ben thought about your last night together often, remembered the dinner in the little restaurant when you wore a dress the color of his suit and looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen you as you danced to the song that always made him think of you. Remembered how he felt when he finally took you to bed, how each time you cried out his name it made him feel proud that it was him making you feel that way, that you wanted him as much as he had wanted you for so long.

Of course, then the memory of the next morning broke in his mind. When he woke up before you and held you closer than he'd held anyone else, slowly stroking your back and watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept and allowing himself to feel at peace. He couldn’t stop smiling in that moment because you genuinely wanted him to hold you close to him. When he woke up with you in his arms when you were children he feared that you wouldn’t want him to hold you, so he always pulled away, afraid of the rejection. He felt rejection from his father, but Ben knew that if you ever rejected him he wouldn't recover.

And then I rejected her, like a dumb fuck.

Ben was not a cuddler, he didn't think it was manly, but being there with you the morning after was different, and he believed he could have laid there for eternity listening to the soft beat of your heart where you rested against his chest and watch the gentle rise and fall of your body as you breathed. He had trailed his fingers along your spine as you laid on his chest, happy for the first time in his life.

When you told him that you loved him, he had been stunned. He remembered the soft blush of your cheeks and wide smile as you said it. He had wanted to say it back, to hear you say it once more, and to make love to you again while he said it- because he knew that’s what you had done together. He had fucked a lot of women, but that night with you was different, he cared how you felt, wanted it to be good for you, wanted to be everything you needed.

But the thought of you loving him scared him.

As much as it made him a pussy, Ben understood that it scared him.

You shouldn't love him because he didn't think that he could be what you wanted, that after all these years he couldn't be enough for you, and he believed that he shouldn't care for anyone as much as he did for you, because that meant weakness. That meant that every time you were on a mission together he would have to worry about you more than anything else. And Soldier Boy couldn't be weak.

So he pushed you away and ran to Countess. Ben's jaw tightens.

The psychotic bitch that sold me out.

It had surprised him, how recently she had died. Butcher hadn't taken responsibility for it as he had for Gunpowder, which made Ben curious as to who had done it.

"Are you sure that Indigo is dead?" Ben asks taking another bite of the hamburger, but it still tastes like nothing.

He wondered if that was because you were gone and then wondered if he'd ever be able to taste anything ever again.

"What?" Hughie looks up from his bag of food. "Why would you think that?"

"Countess. Y/n hated her." Ben takes a swig from the bottle of whiskey on the table to try and dissipate some of the sadness he felt when he thought of you being gone. "Who told you that y/n was dead?"

"Her daughter." Hughie answers.

Ben freezes, his muscles tightening as a sickening feeling rises in the pit of his stomach. "She-she had a kid?" The thought made jealousy burn in his chest. Someone else had loved you, someone else had been man enough to say the thing that kept him up at night.

Of course she had a kid. She said she wanted a family. I was just too fucking stupid and couldn't admit that I wanted to give her that, to give her anything she wanted because I fucking love her. Did I really think she was going to wait for me? After everything I did to her? After everything I said?

"Yeah-" Butcher shrugs. "Spitting image of her."

"She looks like her?" The thought of seeing you smile again makes something stir in his chest.

But it wouldn't be y/n. Ben reasons to himself. Because she’s gone.

His hand tightens on the bottle of whiskey and he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand as a wave of sadness comes over him. The memory of you and him at Fairmount Park, when you painted him briefly flashes across his mind and he allows himself to bask in your smile for a few fleeting moments before it’s gone. It makes him feel like he’d taken a knife to the chest at the thought that he’d never see it again and never hear you laugh.

"Yeah. Calls herself the same thing." Butcher continues.

"I want to meet her." Ben states taking one last drag of whiskey from the bottle.

"What?" Hughie chokes on his food.

Ben stands up. "I want to meet her. Where is she?"

"Oi, I don't think that's a good idea. She didn't really seem too keen on seeing you-"

"What do you mean?" Ben spits back, eyes narrowing.

Hughie shifts in his seat uncomfortably and Ben can hear Hughie's heartbeat quicken in fear.

"Don't be a pussy and just tell me." Ben snaps, becoming angry.

"She didn't want to talk too much about her mom. But she did mention how upset her mom was with you." Hughie states.

Ben felt the memories of the past creep up on him again.

Of course she was upset.

He remembered how broken you had looked the night you caught him and Countess. The look on your face forever sealed in his memory. He’d never seen you look so small. Honestly he was surprised that you hadn’t killed Countess that night. If he had walked in on anybody fucking you after the night you shared together, he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from killing them.

Because you were his.

He thinks about Howard briefly. Ben had almost killed him before you were supes when he called you his at the dance. It was also difficult to walk away when Howard hurt you.

Ben’s thoughts drift back to Countess. Her body had been burned beyond recognition, but her head was no longer attached. It would have taken an extreme amount of force for someone to do that.

Could she still be alive?

Ben thought about your ability. He was the only one who knew what it really was, that you didn't just come back from the dead, that your body was able to take the power of any supe that killed you. It made you incredibly indestructible, more invulnerable than him, even though he didn't want to admit that. He liked the thought that he was stronger than you because it meant that you needed him to protect you. He liked the thought that you needed him.

The day you both figured it out momentarily dances across his mind, making him tighten his jaw.

He remembered the sound of the gun and how you immediately pushed him out of the way to take the bullet for him, because you didn't know he was bulletproof and your gut reaction was to protect him.

Ben remembered how he held you when you took your last breath, watched the fear and pain in your eyes, mirrored in his own body at the thought of losing you, of trying to exist in a world where you weren't there. It was how he felt now.

Purposeless.

He remembered the broken feeling that rose in his chest when he heard your heart beat for the last time and how he begged internally for you to come back to him, because he didn't want to live if it meant losing you. He remembered gently brushing your hair back from your face as relief swelled in his chest when you came back and he clung to you like you had been gone a millennia. Of course after he had yelled at you for being so stupid, for putting yourself in that situation, tried to act like he didn't care as much as he did, but you'd only yelled back and refused to listen to him.

She was just so damn stubborn all the time.

"I don't care. I want to talk to her." Ben grabs the black leather coat that Butcher brought him and changes into a dark t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "Take me to her."

Butcher rolls his eyes. "Well, she did call the other day and say that she had some information for me." Butcher shrugs. "Let's go."

"But-" Hughie interjects.

"Oi Hughie. Calm down."

"She lost her mother. I don't think she wants any reminders of that."

"I promise I'll be gentle, cupcake." Ben rolls his eyes and pushes past Hughie to the door, the thought of seeing you again or just someone who shared your face enough to make him feel something for the first time in forty years.

***************************************************

"Oi, Y/n you in there." Butcher presses the call button on the outside wall of the brick apartment building.

Ben looks up and down the street, noting the people who are walking down the cracked sidewalks. It was weird to be back in New York, to be in a city that he lived in for so long and feel out of place. Hughie had tried to explain some things to him about the new century, but Ben was still confused, and honestly he didn’t care. The only thing he could focus on was you and the possibility of you living here.

Not you. He corrected. But maybe. He still didn't quite believe that you were dead, that you could die.

A minute passes and Ben is tired of waiting. He confidently walks up to the glass front door, and pulls with enough of his superstrength to break the lock and open it.

"What are you doing?" Hughie whispers following behind him, but Ben ignores the question strutting straight to the stairwell.

"What floor?"

"8th." Butcher says.

When they finally reach your door Ben pauses. He's not sure if he can look you in the eye, not after all of these years, if it really is you. And if it wasn't then what? What would I say to her daughter?

The thought makes the fear that he refuses to acknowledge grip his chest, the fear that you were dead followed by the feeling of purposelessness that seemed to follow him since he heard the news.

If it is her daughter, maybe she’ll tell me if y/n suffered, if she died thinking that I hated her.

The memory of the fight stirs in his chest as Butcher knocks on the door and waits. But nobody answers.

"Must not be home." Hughie shrugs. "We could call her-" He begins to say, but Butcher deftly picks the lock and the door swings open into the darkness.

As soon as Butcher opens the front door of the apartment and Ben steps through, all he smells is you. It's enough to confirm in his heart that it is you and not your daughter. He felt something in his chest stutter to a halt as he inhales the familiar scent of lavender and lemons. It was everywhere, all around him, flooding his senses.

And for the first time in forty years he felt comfort, at peace. For a moment all thoughts of revenge, rage, and justice fades from his mind and he is left with the memory of you.

Ben immediately is transported back to those quiet moments when he settled into bed next to you after climbing through your window. When you would fall asleep before him and curl against him subconsciously, your hair tickling his cheeks and sending the soft smell over him. The nights when he’d wrap his arm around you as soon as you fell asleep because he was afraid to do it when you were awake, afraid that you would reject him like so many others did. Those nights with you outweighed any other time in his life. He remembered that each time he crawled through your window you smiled up at him, were happy to see him, so different than the home he left behind, where his father wouldn't look at him.

He remembered the nights after you took Compound V, when even after a hard day when he was a dick, you still allowed him into your bed, allowed him to sleep next to you. Those quiet moments in the late hours of the morning when you cuddled into his side and muttered words in your sleep that he couldn’t understand all the while he brushed your hair back from your face stayed with him. As much as he refused to admit to anyone, refused to show any emotion, being there with you, felt more like home than anywhere else.

That's why he asked you to come with him in the first place. He couldn't leave you behind. Maybe that was selfish of him, but he would not pretend to be unselfish, not when it came to you.

He thinks about all the suitors that he scared away before him and you left Philadelphia, all his friends who expressed interest in you only to have him drive them away, and of course the one that wouldn't leave. The one that bought you jewelry and finally asked you to marry him, another reason why Ben convinced you to come with him.

The jealousy was familiar. Ben didn't want to leave you behind, the thought that some other man would possess you or love you made his chest hurt. You were his. No one felt the way about you that he did, never would. No one would know you, care about you or understand you like he did, and no one knew you as long as he did. And although Ben had trouble expressing it, he knew that he loved you, he hated himself for being unable to say it. He couldn’t decide if admitting that he loved you made him a pussy or it was his fear of telling you that made him one.

Ben looks around the apartment, noticing the artwork on the walls, the messy studio table, and smiles. He remembered the way you always had a sketchbook with you, he used to tease you about it, but you would only roll your eyes at him and continue to draw. He loved watching you sketch, watching how focused you were as you created something so effortlessly. He remembered watching you paint with the watercolors he got you, feeling a swell of pride that he was the one who started that love. Ben had been afraid to give them to you, afraid that it was too thoughtful, but then he remembered how widely you smiled, how happy you had been.

The apartment felt like you.

And by now again he knows that it is you and perhaps that's worse, because now he has to face you and he doesn't know how to fix this, any of it.

You weren’t like him or anyone else. You didn’t bend under easy promises and gifts like the other women he had been with over the years. Your ability to read him and understand him meant that you were special. And you were. You were special to him.

He moves forward towards the darkened hallway.

"Hey wait-" He hears Hughie say behind him, but Ben ignores him.

Ben finds your bedroom easily and the smell grows when he opens the door. He takes in the controlled chaos of the room before his eyes fall on the suitcase on the large bed.

Where was she going?

Ben pulls your supe suit out of the bag and smiles at the memory of the day you first tried it on. You never wore anything form fitting, hid your shape under shirts and pants, but the day he saw you in this for the first time made his breath catch in his chest. He knew that you thought you were fat, but Ben never believed that. He loved every curve of your body, loved to trace them with his eyes when you weren’t looking and when you finally let him take you to bed, his hands. Seeing you in the suit for the first time was almost enough to push him over the edge, but he kept it together.

He notices the plane ticket on the edge of the bed, beneath the bag, and he pulls out the printed piece of paper, reading the fine print.

She was going to Russia. She was going to come get me even after I-

The emotion that rises in Ben's chest is unfamiliar. He did not like giving in to emotions the same way others did because he believed that made him weak, a lesson his father had ingrained into his mind. But this time he doesn't attempt to push it down. The plane ticket crumples in his hand as his jaw clenches tight. A part of him was relieved, relieved to know that somewhere deep down you still cared about him, maybe that meant that you would be willing to see him.

But he still didn’t know how to fix this. He'd never been good with words or apologizing or, well, love in general. He’d never loved anyone before you. He frowns at the thought of all the meaningless flings he'd had in the past. There was only one relationship with a woman he'd ever been in, with you, and he'd fucked it all up.

He kneels and reaches under your bed, looking for the box he knows will be there. It's a dark rosewood, one from your bedroom when you were a kid, but now it holds a different value. Ben sits on the end of your bed and opens it.

He had caught you with it a few times, usually when you started drinking or on your birthday, always on your birthday. It's why he never let you stay at home, he made sure you came out with him, because your mind would drift when you were alone and Ben didn't like the dark places it took you.

Ben rarely liked leaving you alone. Whenever he was on movie shoots in another country he would call you just to hear your voice, and even when he went to bed with someone else and they fell asleep he would stay up thinking of you, wondering if you missed him as much as he missed you, and wondering if you could sleep without him because he couldn’t sleep without you. Another reason why he pushed you away, believing that it made him weak.

The photo on top is unfamiliar to him, it's newer, and shows you standing with a young brunette woman outside of a college dorm. He traces the lines of your face with his thumb. He hadn't seen a picture of you in forty years, but you were just as beautiful as he remembered. The one that follows is also unfamiliar, you holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, the baby’s hand wrapped around your index finger, and you looking down at it like it's your whole world.

The look in your eyes does something to him. He remembered when you looked at him like that, the morning when you woke up next to him and whispered those four little words to him that he always wanted to hear while holding his face tenderly between your palms, "I love you Ben."

When things got bad in Russia he would strain to remember the memory, remember the way you looked at him, the way the words sounded falling from your lips. The words that he always wanted to hear you say. The morning that he wished he could change and the disastrous night he wished never happened.

"We shouldn't be here." Hughie says to Butcher in the living room.

"She ain't home. We'll go when he wants to leave." Ben hears Butcher respond.

But Ben knew that he didn't want to leave, wouldn't want to leave. He had spent the past forty years away from you and he didn't want to spend anymore time apart from you, even if that made him a pussy, he didn't care.

"This isn't a good idea. Y/n didn't want him here-" Hughie tries again

"Oi, look at this. She's looking at flights." Butcher states, when he notices the laptop on the counter.

"What?" Hughie asks.

"If it ain't her, how would she know about Russia?" Butcher says back. Ben hears a rustling like Butcher is going through the trashcan “And take a look at this-“

Ben shuts out their conversation and pulls other photos out, finally pulling out strip of paper from a Photo Booth. It was the day he took you to a baseball game, before you were supes. You’d never been to one before and Ben had only been to the one his father took him to, when his dad got drunk and forgot Ben was with him. Ben frowns for a second but then looks back at the collection of photos on the strip. It was a good day. He had bought you a ridiculous hat, and you'd sat next to him looking radiant in the sunlight like you always did sketching him. Ben loved it when you drew him, it made him happy to know that when you looked through the pages of your sketchbook later that you were thinking of him. He often wondered if you thought of him as much as he thought of you. You'd both gotten drunk on cheap beer and when a woman yelled at you for being unladylike you flipped her the bird and said some choice words that made the tips of the woman’s ears turn pink.

Ben loved that about you, that you never seemed to care what others thought of you, especially your friendship with him. Everyone you knew had told you to keep a wide berth from him, but you didn’t listen.

Ben traces your young face in the photo with his fingertip.

Maybe she should have.

He turns back and pulls out a yellowed photo of you and your mother. Ben frowns at the expression on your face. You were never happy when she was around. He hated your mother, not just because she hated him, but he hated what she did to you. He hated that she made you feel ugly, when you were the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. Even as teenagers, Ben couldn’t help but notice how pretty your figure was and how you filled out the soft dresses you wore when you went with him on adventures through the city. He never thought you were too fat, if anything he liked your curves. The night you were finally together he worshipped them, wanted you to know that you were beautiful, to understand that he saw your beauty, because he knew that you still thought about what your mother said to you. He hated that she had such a hold on your life even though she had been dead for so long.

He hears a rattle along the bottom of the box and when he picks up the source of the noise he immediately wishes he hadn't. It's a single pearl, and Ben understands what it's from. It's from the necklace he bought you for your birthday, the one that you ripped off your neck when you found him with Countess. He had agonized over whether or not to get it for you, thought that maybe it was too thoughtful or rather was too romantic. But the look on your face when you opened the box made him feel like he’d swallowed the sun.

Ben's teeth clench together as a wave of guilt crashes over him remembering what he yelled at you, remembering what he did to you. He thought that it had been what he needed to do, that he needed to push you away because he didn't want to care about anyone else, at least not the way he cared about you.

He hadn’t thought it would hurt as much to say those things to you, but it had all but ripped his own heart out.

But even before you found them together all Ben felt was guilt. He wasn’t enjoying anything he was doing to Countess, all he wanted was to do those things with you. He thought it was necessary, that by doing those things with her he could somehow clear his head of you, but all it did was make him feel guilty and want you more.

He thinks about the days that followed before his mission in Nicaragua, when he agonized over calling you, over showing up to your apartment, but he couldn't. He couldn't face you. He hadn't been able to sleep those nights before the mission and wanted desperately for you to be there with him. Ben couldn't sleep when you weren’t with him. He hated that he'd finally gotten you and then lost you so quickly.

Ben notices a velvet box, and he sighs when he opens it. It's an engagement ring, the engagement ring that you showed him the night he asked you to come with him.

He briefly wonders if you thought that was his version of a proposal. That you believed, turning your back on your family and coming with him meant more.

I’m such a fucking idiot. I should’ve-

“It really is a shitty ring.” He mutters. And it was, it was all wrong for you. Ben knew what you liked and he couldn’t believe that this was what that asshole got you.

Why did she keep it? Because she wanted to remember what her life could have been like if I didn’t ask her to come?

Ben remembers when he asked you if he ruined your life, before everything exploded. He imagined that after that night you changed your answer, because how could you look at him, let alone want to be around him after what he did to you?

Ben examines the ring again allowing the memory of the night you showed it to him push its way into his mind. He remembered being scared, of course he’d never admit that, he wasn’t a pussy, but he acutely remembered the moment you showed it to him. The fear of losing you that struck him when he noticed it on your finger, as the weight of what it represented settled on his shoulders. He knew that the asshole who proposed would quickly turn you against him, and this time you’d believe it because you loved that dick or-

Ben reconsidered. She didn’t love him because she came with you. She loved you.

He remembers again what it was like to be with you in bed, when you whispered those words so tenderly to him and is struck with guilt all over again.

You had looked almost sheepish when you showed me the ring, like you were afraid to tell me-

Of course she was afraid to tell you. She wanted you to propose but you didn’t instead you fucking ruined her life and strung her along for 40 fucking years-

He never understood how you did that. Survived all those years with him while he fucked his way through everything that crossed his path. How you continued to stand by him when he was a dick to you and so many others. And yet you never let any other man into your life.

He remembers the night after you got between him and Noir, remembers asking you if you wanted to marry Howard, but you said no. The other things you said struck something within him. When you said you wanted someone to come home to, someone who would love you, a family. He remembers how you looked the night of your birthday in the restaurant, how you watched the couples around your table and smiled. He knew what you were thinking, and he had tried to show you that he could be that for you by taking your hand where it rested on the table even though it went against every instinct he had. He wanted so badly to give you those things, to make you happy. Ben didn’t want you to find that with anyone else. He would have loved to have a family with you, to be with you always the way you were always there for him, or were until he fucked it all up. He remembers asking you to marry him, apart of it had been a joke, just to gauge your reaction, but deep down he was curious. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much when you laughed him off.

Ben sighs. When you spoke about leaving Payback he was worried, worried that it meant you would leave him too and then who would he have? No one. It’s why he spent so many nights in your bed, with you curled up beside him. He didn’t want to be anywhere else.

He shuts the ring box with a snap and throws it back inside. The memory of the night you spent together is just on the edge begging to be let in. Ben indulged in that memory many times over the years, letting it strengthen him. Remembered every detail. It was the first time that he actually cared what someone else wanted in bed. He remembered how your cheeks blushed when you told him that you’d never had sex before and how you said that you wanted it to be him. He never imagined that you would want him the same way that he’d wanted you all those years.The exact reason why he drowned himself in so many other women, because he thought that’s what he needed to do. Because you deserved someone better than him, you always had.

The thought is immediately followed by what he yelled at you in the bathroom at the premiere, when he turned something that you believed to be special, one of the happiest nights of his life, into a cheap fuck.

He remembered the broken expression on your face. He'd never seen you look so small. Ben always admired how strong you were, but as soon as he said those things to you, he watched you crumble when he broke your heart.

Worse still was when he grabbed you. He fights the shudder, remembering how he grabbed onto your arms. As many times as you’d stood between him and the source of his anger, he’d never laid a hand on you but that night, he was just so damn frustrated. You were looking at him with those big eyes of yours that always saw through him, understood him, and he was frustrated because he wanted to tell you that he loved you that he always had loved you but he couldn’t. He couldn’t admit it because he was a man and damn it a man didn’t show emotions and he was Soldier Boy he didn’t need anyone-

His jaw clenches together so tight that he hears the click of his teeth.

But he did. He knew that all he needed was you.

I’m such a fucking asshole. Y/n doesn’t need me and I don’t deserve her-

Ben raises his head to look at your bedroom door as he hears the front door of your apartment swing open. And he freezes.

Because why would you want to see him? He had ruined your life.

***************************************

A/N: Alright everybody we made it to the chapter right before the reunion!!! What will happen? Will she forgive him? Who knows?! Even me, honestly. 😂

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lila-lou · 2 days

Text

✨ His only exception - Pt. 23/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, angst, hurt, PAIN(!), Ben being too rough (well, again), soft Ben

Word Count: 6482

A/N: This is part 23 of “His only exception”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. ��✨

As Ben's chest stopped glowing, a sense of relief washed over both of you, the tension dissipating into the air. Without a word, he pulled your face closer, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the emotions that had been building between you for so long, a culmination of longing, desire, and love.

His heart raced against yours, matching the rhythm of your own heartbeat as you melted into each other's embrace. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the two of you, lost in the intensity of your connection.

Your cheeks flushed with warmth as Ben pulled you onto his lap, enveloping you in his strong arms. He was holding you close as he continued to shower you with passionate kisses. With each tender touch of his lips against yours, you felt yourself melting into his embrace, the world around you fading away as you lost yourself in the intensity of the moment.

Wrapped in his arms, you felt safe.

As Ben pulled away, you allowed yourself to sink back against his chest, relishing in the warmth of his embrace. His arms around you felt like a sanctuary, offering comfort and security in the midst of chaos. You nestled more against him.

His grip was gentle yet firm, as if he were afraid to let go, afraid to lose you if he stopped holding you close.

As you stirred from your sleep the next morning, you found yourself waking to the sight of Ben slipping on the clothes you had bought for him. His grunts and displeased expression made it clear that he wasn't particularly fond of the attire you had chosen.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you watched him with a mixture of amusement and fondness, marveling at how even in the early morning light, he still managed to exude an air of rugged charm.

You tiredly asked, "What's the matter?".

Ben glanced at you and scoffed, grumbling, "Only pussies or homeless people wear fucking flannel". He adjusted the red and black flannel at its collar, the material stretching slightly over his muscular back and arms.

You couldn't help but stifle a laugh at his grumpy demeanor, finding his irritation oddly endearing in the morning light.

You teased him, "Well, I happen to think you look incredibly hot in it". Slowly, you sat up, watching him as he examined himself in the mirror.

He shot you a playful glare, though there was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, yeah, keep talking like that, and I might just start believing you", he retorted, his voice laced with amusement.

You chuckled softly, before standing up and making your way towards the bathroom to freshen up. Ben followed closely behind, his gaze lingering on you as you stepped into the shower.

As the warm water cascaded over you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you, despite the tumultuous events of the past few days. You turned to face Ben, the steam swirling around you.

You were just happy to have him back.

"So, what's the plan now?", you asked, your voice muffled slightly by the sound of running water. You hoped he wouldn't resort to seeking revenge, but deep down, you feared it might be his only plan.

Ben leaned against the bathroom doorway, his expression thoughtful as he considered your question. He ran a hand through his hair.

"I don't know", he admitted, his voice low and contemplative.

Ben's voice was steely as he continued, his eyes dark with determination. "Butcher and the other cocksuckers will pay, that´s for sure", he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You felt a chill run down your spine at the intensity of his words, knowing that Ben was deadly serious about seeking revenge.

After a few minutes, you stepped out of the shower, the warm mist clinging to your skin as you reached for the towel Ben held out for you. He stood there, his muscular frame towering over you, his gaze soft yet determined as he watched you.

With a soft smile, you wrapped the towel around yourself.

Ben's gaze softened as he looked down at you, his hand gently brushing a wet strand of hair out of your face. The tender gesture sent a wave of warmth flooding through you, your heart fluttering in response.

As you met his gaze, you couldn't help but blush under his intense scrutiny. Thoughts of your confession from the night before raced through your mind, filling you with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty.

Until now, he didn´t said those words back, but he didn´t needed to. His eyes said it all. The way he had looked at you had changed.

But without a warning, thoughts of Jay, your job, and the complexities of your life flooded your mind, you couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that gripped you. Slowly, you backed away from Ben, the weight of your conflicting emotions pressing down on you.

The room felt suddenly stifling, suffocating you with the weight of your own indecision. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you grappled with the tumultuous whirlwind of emotions raging within you.

Ben's brow furrowed in concern as he noticed your retreat, his eyes searching yours for answers. "Hey, what's wrong?", he asked, his voice soft with genuine concern.

You bit your lip, struggling to find the words to express what was going on. How could you explain the tangled mess of emotions swirling in your mind—the guilt, the fear, the longing?

"I…", you began, your voice barely a whisper. "I don't know, Ben. It's just… everything".

Ben sensed your hesitation, his gaze probing as he tried to decipher the source of your unease. "Is there something you're not telling me?", he asked. Knowing you better than you ever would expect.

You swallowed hard, the weight of your secrets pressing down on you. "It's… nothing, Ben… just a lot of… emotions", you replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

But Ben wasn't convinced. He could see through the facade you tried to maintain. With a sigh, he reached out and gently took your hand. "Get dressed", he said quietly. "We're going home".

While sitting on the plane a few hours later, Ben scrolled through the options for hotels, his vision occasionally blurred, leaving him feeling disoriented and out of sorts. He couldn't quite pinpoint the cause of the sudden change, but it gnawed at him nonetheless.

Despite his best efforts to shake off the feeling, it lingered, casting a shadow over his thoughts as he searched for a place to stay. Each passing moment only deepened his sense of unease, leaving him grappling with a strange sense of foreboding.

As the plane continued on its course, Ben couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, a nagging sense of dread that refused to be ignored. But try as he might, he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was that troubled him so deeply.

As the plane touched down, Ben roused you from your sleep with a gentle shake, his touch slightly rougher than before. You blinked groggily, the remnants of sleep still clinging to your senses as you stirred.

"Hey, wake up", he said, his voice firm but not unkind.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you groaned in response, stretching languidly as you tried to shake off the fog of sleep. It took a moment for the realization to sink in that you had arrived at your destination.

You gathered your belongings before disembarking. Stepping into the airport terminal, you followed Ben as he led the way to the hotel. Once there, he took care of checking in while you waited on a small couch in the lobby.

As you sat, you idly played with your phone, before turning it back on.

As you turned on your phone, a call from Annie came in almost immediately. With a surge of frustration and anger bubbling inside you, you answered the call, your voice tight with emotion.

"What the fuck do you want?" you demanded, your tone edged with annoyance. "Why did you lie to me about Ben? Why was he captured? I hope you have a damn good explanation for all the bullshit you pulled!".

Annie's voice crackled through the phone, her tone strained with apprehension. "Look, I know it's a lot to take in, but there were reasons—"

"Reasons?" you interrupted, your frustration mounting. "What fucking reasons could possibly justify capturing Ben? He's been through enough already!".

The line fell silent for a moment before Annie spoke again, her voice softer this time. "I understand how you feel, but there are things you don't know. We had to make difficult decisions to keep everyone safe".

You clenched your jaw, struggling to contain your anger. "To keep everyone safe? Are you kidding me right now? Ben didn´t do anything. He even helped us with homelander!" you snapped. "Ben isn't some villain that needs to be locked away. You should have told me the damn truth from the beginning!"

Annie sighed heavily on the other end of the line, her tone apologetic. "I'm sorry, (y/n). I know you're upset, and I wish things could have been different. Just know that-…".

"I don't want to hear your excuses, Annie", you interrupted, your voice trembling with emotion. "Not fucking now! I… I hope you survive this".

With that, you ended the call, unable to bear the weight of the conversation any longer. As you stared at your phone, your hands trembling with emotion, you felt a surge of anger and sadness wash over you.

Ben approached you, his footsteps heavy with purpose as he reached your side. "Come on", he said softly. "Let's get in our room".

As his hand settled on your lower back, his touch grounding you in the present moment, you nodded in silent agreement. With a deep breath, you rose from the couch, following Ben as he led the way to your shared sanctuary for the night. Of course he could overhear the conversation.

As you sank onto the bed, exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders, you looked up at Ben, who stood before you, his expression unreadable.

"Are you going to kill them?", you asked, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them.

Ben paused for a moment, his gaze piercing as he considered your question. "I thought about it", he admitted, his voice low and gravelly. "But right now, I won't. I want them to live, but under my control. At least for now".

He moved closer, his hand resting on your shoulder. "But before I do anything", he continued, "I want to spend some time with you. Alone".

Ben pulled you close to his chest, his arms enveloping you in a protective embrace.

"How do you feel?", you asked softly.

"How do I feel?", he repeated, a smug grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Like I'm the fucking luckiest guy in the world, having you by my side".

You playfully pinched Ben's chest, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you looked up at him. Despite his flaws, you knew there was a part of Ben that genuinely cared for you.

"Are you really okay, though?", you asked. "I mean, after everything that happened, it's a lot to process".

"Stop worrying your pretty little head about me", he said in a teasing tone, his hand reaching out to playfully tousle your hair. Before you could respond, he swiftly pulled you up by your hips, lifting you effortlessly and tossing you onto the king-size bed.

You braced yourself on your arms, watching intently as Ben peeled off his flannel and shirt, revealing his sculpted arms and chiseled stomach.

"Damn", you murmured with a big smirk, unable to tear your eyes away from his body.

"Like what you see?", Ben teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he undid his belt with deliberate slowness. "Or should I put the shirt back on?".

You bit your lip. "Absolutely not", you chuckled.

"Good", he said, his voice low and husky. "Now, c'mere".

You eagerly complied, stepping closer to the edge of the bed as he approached. His commanding presence sent shivers down your spine as he stood before you, his jeans hanging low on his hips.

"Open them", he ordered.

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you reached out and deftly unbuttoned Ben's jeans, slowly, so so slowly pulling down the zipper. As you did, his bulge pressed against the fabric, eager to be released. You had easily reversed the roles.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?", he asked slightly surprised about your teasing.

You smirked up at him, reveling in the power you held over him in this moment. "Maybe a little", you replied coyly, your fingers grazing over his growing arousal.

"Come on, babe", Ben urged, his voice husky with need. "Quit teasing".

His impatience only fueled your desire to tease him further, but you relented, freeing his throbbing length from its confines.

"Get on with it", Ben ordered and gazed down at you with a hungry intensity. "Don´t use your hands".

You hesitated for a moment, feeling a surge of arousal coursing through you at his command. With a deep breath, you leaned forward, wrapping your lips around his throbbing length. As you began to suck him, you made sure to follow his instructions, keeping your hands firmly at your sides.

Ben groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided your movements. The sensation of your mouth on him sent shivers of pleasure coursing through his body, his hips instinctively moving in rhythm with your motions.

With each passing moment, the tension in the room grew, the air thick with desire as you pleasured him with your mouth alone.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice husky with arousal. "Just like that. You're doing so good".

With each passing moment, you could feel him growing harder in your mouth, his breaths becoming more ragged as pleasure washed over him.

"Keep going, baby".

Ben groaned with pleasure as he felt himself nearing the edge, impressed by your quick learning and eager enthusiasm. With a sharp intake of breath, he pulled himself out of your mouth, his fingers curling around your chin as he surprisingly gentle lifted you up onto your knees.

"Turn around".

You complied without hesitation, feeling a shiver of anticipation coursing through you as you shifted to face away from him, presenting yourself to him eagerly.

You felt a rush of excitement as Ben pulled down your jeans and panties, exposing your ass and wet folds to his hungry gaze. A soft moan escaped your lips as you felt his hands caress your skin, his touch sending shivers of pleasure down your spine.

His fingers trailed along the curve of your ass, teasingly brushing against your wetness before parting your folds, his breath hot against your skin as he took in the sight before him.

"You're so fucking wet", Ben growled as he continued to spread your folds, his fingers tracing the outline of your dripping slit.

You whimpered in response, your body trembling with anticipation.

As Ben grabbed his dick at the base and ran the tip through your slick folds.

With each teasing stroke, your desire for him grew more intense, your body aching to be filled by him. You moaned softly, your breath coming in short gasps as you arched your back, pressing your ass against him in silent encouragement.

With each teasing stroke of his tip against your slick folds, your arousal grew, your need for him becoming almost unbearable. You pleaded with him, your voice thick with desire as you begged for him to finally take you.

But Ben remained steadfast, his grin widening as he relished in your desperation. "Not yet", he murmured huskily, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "I want to make you beg for it".

You groaned in frustration, your body throbbing with need as you strained against him, desperate for release.

But that's what you get for thinking it would be a good idea to tease Soldier Boy.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance.

As Ben raised an eyebrow, his expression turning more amused, he couldn't help but notice the sound of your eyes rolling in frustration. "Did you just roll your eyes at me?", he asked incredulously, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Before you could respond, he squeezed your ass cheek firmly, his grip strong enough to leave a bruise. The sudden pressure sent a jolt of pleasure through you, causing you to gasp in surprise. "You know better than to be fucking disrespectful", he chided playfully, his voice low and husky with desire.

With a playful grin, you glanced back at Ben over your shoulder, teasingly asking, "Want an apology now?".

Before you could react, Ben delivered a slap to your ass. You gasped at the sudden sting, feeling a rush of heat spreading through your body. "How's that for an fucking apology?".

Ben paused for a moment, studying your reaction closely. A sly grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he realized the effect his actions were having on you.

"You kinda like that, don't you?", he teased, his voice low and husky as he observed you.

You blushed furiously, but Ben couldn't see your face from his position behind you. "Maybe", you admitted, your voice tinged with embarrassment as you squirmed slightly under his touch.

Ben chuckled softly, his voice husky with desire as he teased, "Well, maybe I'll have to explore that a bit more later".

With a firm grip on your hips, he pulled you back against him, aligning his throbbing cock with your dripping pussy. The anticipation sent shivers down your spine as you felt the head of his length pressing against your slick folds, teasing you with the promise of pleasure to come.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Ben pushed himself inside you, inch by inch, until he was fully seated deep within your wet warmth. You gasped at the sensation.

He groaned lowly, his hips rocking gently against yours as he relished in the exquisite pleasure of being joined with you.

You whimpered beneath him, the slow, lazy pace driving you to the brink of madness. Each deliberate thrust sent sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins, but it wasn't enough to satisfy the burning desire building inside you.

You struggled against him, craving more, but Ben held you firmly in place, his grip unyielding as he continued to pound into you with agonizing slowness. His actions felt like a punishment for your earlier disrespect, and you couldn't help but squirm beneath him, desperate for release.

"Ben… please", you begged, your voice thick with need as you pleaded with him to go faster, to give you more.

But Ben remained unfazed, his movements calculated and controlled. "Not yet", he murmured huskily.

You clenched your teeth, frustration bubbling inside you as you struggled to maintain your composure.

"Come on, Ben", you whined, your voice tinged with irritation. "Stop being such a dick and just fuck me already".

Your words hung in the air, and for a moment, there was silence as Ben paused, his gaze darkening with amusement. Then, without warning, he gripped your hips tightly and drove into you with a sudden, forceful thrust that stole your breath away.

"Is that what you want, sweetheart?", he growled. "You want me to fuck you hard and fast until you can't think straight?".

You nodded eagerly, your body pulsing with need as you surrendered to the pleasure of his dominance.

With a wicked grin, Ben leaned down, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he whispered teasingly in your ear. "You want it rough, huh? Thought you didn´t like it", he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Well, you better be careful what you wish for, sweetheart. You might just get more than you bargained for".

Despite the warning in his tone, you couldn't help but moan in anticipation, the thought of his rough touch igniting a fire deep within you. You knew you'd be sore tomorrow, but right now, all you could think about was the exquisite pleasure of his dominance. You needed it.

“Take me like you would if I were a Supe,” you pleaded.

Your desperate plea hung in the air as Ben stilled above you, his expression unreadable for a few heart-stopping moments. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. "You have no idea what you're asking for", he warned, his tone tinged with a hint of concern.

But you were beyond reason, consumed by the fiery desire coursing through your veins. "I can handle it", you insisted, your voice breathless with need. "Please, Ben, I need it".

He regarded you for a long moment. As he leaned down, his lips grazing your ear as he murmured huskily, "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you".

Ben began to move inside you with his usual intensity, well, a slighter version of it, the grip of his hands on your hips tightened, bruising your skin and making it feel as though your hipbones might break under the pressure. Despite the forcefulness of his thrusts, there was a deliberate restraint in his movements, a careful balance between his desire and his need to protect you from the full extent of his strength.

With each powerful thrust, you felt a mixture of pleasure and pain coursing through your body, the sensation heightened by the knowledge of the immense power Ben possessed. Despite the discomfort, there was an undeniable thrill in surrendering to his dominance, in allowing him to take you with such raw, primal force.

For Ben, the struggle to hold back his superhuman strength was a constant battle. As he moved inside you, he focused on maintaining control, on channeling his desire into measured, controlled movements that conveyed both his passion and his restraint.

As you surrendered to the intensity of the moment, a part of you acknowledged the immense restraint Ben showed in holding back his superhuman strength. Deep down, you knew that if he were to unleash his full power, he could easily shatter your fragile human form.

Yet, there was a twisted thrill in knowing that he held back for you, that his desire to protect you outweighed his own primal instincts. It was a reminder of the depth of his feelings for you, of the lengths he would go to ensure your safety, even at the cost of his own pleasure.

But you struggled to contain the wild, reckless desire brewing within you.

With a voice laced with desperation, you whispered, "Just one time, Ben. I want to feel all of it, even if just for a moment. I need to know… I need to feel…".

Your words trailed off, your heart pounding with anticipation and fear. You knew the risks, the potential consequences of inviting such power into your fragile human body. But in that moment, the allure of experiencing Ben's full strength, even for a fleeting moment, overwhelmed all sense of reason.

Ben hesitated, his gaze on your small back, as he grappled with the weight of your request. His jaw clenched, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before being replaced by determination.

"You don't understand", he began, his voice low and tinged with frustration. "I can't… I won't risk hurting you. Not like that".

As you looked over your shoulder, a mix of desire and frustration evident in your eyes, Ben's resolve wavered. He knew he should resist, that giving in to your request could have dangerous consequences. Yet, the primal urge to satisfy your desires warred with his sense of responsibility to keep you safe.

With a deep exhale, Ben leaned back slightly, his gaze locked with yours as he searched for any sign of hesitation or doubt. But all he found was unwavering determination mirrored in your eyes, a silent plea urging him to give in to your desires.

His hand trembled slightly as he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face. "Alright. If that's what you want…", he relented, his voice husky with desire. "But just this once".

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with the weight of their implications.

With a firm grip on your waist, Ben's hands tensed as he prepared to unleash his full strength. With a low growl, he thrust into you with force, the sheer power behind his movement catching you off guard.

The impact was jarring, sending a bolt of pain shooting through your body as you jolted forward in response. The intensity of his thrust was almost too much to bear, each movement driving you to the brink of pleasure and pain.

As he continued to drive into you with relentless force, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, the line between pleasure and pain blurring into a haze of raw sensation.

As tears mingled with sweat on your flushed cheeks, you lay flat on the mattress, your body trembling beneath the weight of Ben's relentless thrusts. Each movement sent shockwaves of pain through your core, but a fierce determination burned within you, urging you to endure for Ben's sake.

Despite the agony coursing through your veins, you gritted your teeth and clung to the edge of the mattress, willing yourself to withstand the overwhelming force of Ben's desire. With each painful thrust, you offered yourself up to him, determined to give him what he desired, no matter the cost.

Beneath the weight of his strength, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of surrender.

As Ben reached the peak of his desire, he came with a intensity that rocked both of you to the core. With a deep groan, he released himself deep inside you, filling you with his warmth as your body trembled beneath him.

The sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you as you gasped for breath, your senses reeling from the sheer intensity of the moment. Ben collapsed above you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as you both struggled to catch your breath.

As Ben slowly pulled out, a mixture of his cum and a trace of blood from your tender flesh trickled down your folds, evidence of the intensity of your encounter. The pain in your pussy and lower belly was palpable, rendering you unable to move as you lay there.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. Ben's expression changed as he looked down at you, concern flickering in his eyes as he took in your state.

"You okay?", he asked carefully, his voice laced with genuine worry.

Ben settled beside you, he gently lifted your chin, coaxing you to meet his gaze. Seeing the tears pooling in your eyes, frustration creased his brow, a mixture of concern and regret evident in his expression.

Ben let go of your chin, his expression weighed down by a heavy sense of regret and frustration. "I knew this was a fucking bad idea", he muttered, his voice tinged with anger at himself. He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident in the way his fingers clenched into fists.

You winced as you shifted on the bed, the pain in your body still raw from the intensity of his thrusts. You could feel his anger radiating off him, his frustration palpable in the tension that hung between you.

His gaze wandered over your body, taking in the sight of the blood between your legs, his heart clenching with a mix of concern and anger. "I can't believe you fucking wanted that", he muttered, his voice laced with frustration.

You reached out to cup his face, a silent plea in your eyes, but he swiftly took your hand away and got up from the bed. His movements were tense and rigid as he paced the room. He had promised himself that he would never hurt you again and yet he did it again.

After a few minutes, Ben came back from the bathroom and carefully picked you up. You could see Ben was hurt. You had pressured him into something he didn't really wanted to do. And now he was angry. Angry with himself.

His face remained tense as he carried you into the bathroom without a word, his arms strong and sure as he cradled you in his embrace. Despite the anger simmering beneath the surface, there was a hint of concern in his eyes as he gently lowered you into the warm water of the bathtub.

As you sank into the soothing embrace of the water, you felt a sense of relief wash over you, the pain beginning to ebb away slightly with each passing moment. But Ben's tension remained palpable, his jaw clenched as he busied himself with adjusting the temperature of the water.

You reached out again, your hand trembling as you gently grasped Ben's, pulling it away from the tap. "Please, Ben", you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper. "Look at me".

Ben's gaze flickered towards you, his expression pained as he met your eyes. He hated himself in that moment, his heart heavy with the weight of his actions. The realization of how close he had come to causing you serious harm gnawed at him, filling him with a deep sense of regret.

"If I had lost control… if I had hurt you worse…", he trailed off, unable to voice the thoughts that plagued him. Despite his superhuman abilities, he was only too aware of the fragility of your human form, and the thought of causing you such pain or worse was unbearable.

You reached out, gently cupping Ben's face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I wanted it, Ben", you insisted, your voice steady despite the pain coursing through your body. "I knew the risks, and I wanted it anyway".

Ben looked into your eyes, his expression conflicted. He remained squatting beside the bathtub, his eyes fixed on the soft red hue of the water, lost in his own thoughts.

Ben let out a frustrated grumble, his brows furrowing as he wrestled with his own inner turmoil. "I'm older than you", he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. "I should know better. I'm the fucking supe, damn it. I've got the power, and I need to be the one to know how to handle it".

His words carried a weight of responsibility and self-recrimination, his frustration evident in the way he clenched his fists at his sides.

You let go of his hand. “Ben, I know you’re trying to protect me”, you said softly, your voice filled with empathy. “But sometimes, I need you to trust me too. Trust that I can handle myself, even in situations like this”.

Ben's shoulders tensed at your words, a hint of frustration flickering across his features. "Trust you?", he spat out sarcastically, his tone laced with bitterness. "Yeah, I saw how well you handled yourself back there".

His words stung. Yet, beneath his bitterness, you sensed a deeper struggle within him.

Ben rose to his feet, his expression a mixture of frustration and concern as he looked down at you. "I just don't want to see you get hurt anymore", he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "Especially not because of me. I promised you I would never hurt you and-…".

You reached out, grasping his hand in yours once more, your touch gentle yet firm. "I know", you replied softly, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. "But sometimes, taking risks is worth it, if it means being with you".

Ben let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as he processed your words. "Just take your fucking bath", he muttered, his tone resigned as he turned and left the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

Alone in the bathroom, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at the way things had unfolded between you and Ben. But deep down, you knew that despite the challenges and disagreements, your bond with him was stronger than ever.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, the warm steam dissipating around you, you found Ben sitting on the edge of the bed, lost in his thoughts. His brow furrowed in concentration, he seemed unaware of your presence as he stared off into the distance.

Taking tiny, pain-filled steps, you approached him cautiously. Despite the tension that lingered between you, you couldn't bear the thought of leaving things unresolved.

"Ben", you called softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you stood before him, uncertain of how to break through the wall of silence that enveloped him.

As Ben slowly looked up, his gaze meeting yours, you braced yourself for what might come next. But to your surprise, instead of a stern expression or harsh words, he pulled you gently onto his lap.

You held your breath, uncertain of his intentions, but then he cupped your cheek tenderly before pressing his lips softly against yours. In that moment, all the tension and uncertainty melted away, replaced by a rush of warmth and affection that enveloped you both.

As you mumbled an apology for pushing him, Ben silenced you with another kiss, his lips soft yet firm against yours. He held you close, his arms wrapped securely around you, as if he never wanted to let you go.

After a few moments, Ben pulled away, his gaze locking with yours as he spoke softly. "You're all I have", he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity.

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their meaning, as you felt the depth of his emotions wash over you.

As Ben kissed you again, his lips conveying a depth of emotion that words couldn't express, you felt a rush of warmth flooding through you, you never felt before. With gentle yet possessive hands, he guided you onto the bed, his body hovering above yours as he continued to shower you with kisses.

Lost in the intensity of the moment, you melted into his embrace, savoring the feeling of his lips against yours, the weight of his body pressing against you.

Ben's lips traced a path from your jaw to your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. In a low, husky voice, he whispered, "I won't ever do this again, no matter how much you fucking beg".

His words carried a weight of finality, a promise made in earnest. Despite the lingering desire between you, he was determined to protect you, even from yourself.

With a soft, almost pleading tone, you murmured, "But you said it yourself, Ben. You needed this. You needed to be able to get rid of your tension".

Your words hung in the air, a reminder of the complexities of your relationship and the conflicting desires that pulled you together.

Ben pulled away, his gaze intense as he searched your eyes for the truth. "Is that the reason why you asked for this?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration and disbelief.

You nodded softly, your heart pounding in your chest as you met his gaze. "Yeah", you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ben's expression hardened, his frustration boiling over. "Are you for fucking real?", he snapped, his tone sharp and cutting.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you struggled to find the right words. "I just can't stand the thought of you being with someone else", you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion. "Especially because I know I can't give you what you need".

Tension hung heavy in the air between you as Ben processed your words, his expression softening slightly as he reached out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

"Listen. I know I can be fucking difficult sometimes", he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm not used to… this", he continued, gesturing between the two of you. "But I'm not fucking dumb. I got the point loud and clear about how you feel about what happened with the hooker at the strip club".

Ben let out a heavy sigh as he noticed your lingering uncertainty. "I won't do something like that again", he assured you, rolling his eyes slightly. "But that doesn't mean you have to put yourself in danger just to satisfy me".

His words carried a note of frustration, his concern for your well-being evident in the way he held you close to him.

You felt Ben's lips brush against yours in a tender peck before he pulled back, his gaze immediately drifting towards your lower body. "So, how do you feel?", he inquired softly, his concern evident in his voice.

With a slight grimace, you admitted, "My belly hurts, and I'm fucking sore".

Ben's hand gently wandered down to your lower belly, hovering right above the hem of your panties. "Here?", he asked softly, his touch tentative as he awaited your response.

You nodded.

Feeling your confirmation, Ben's touch remained gentle as he traced his fingertips lightly over the sensitive skin of your lower belly. He furrowed his brow in concern, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as he assessed your reaction.

"Does it hurt a lot?", he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine concern as he continued to caress your skin.

You sucked in your bottom lip and nodded again.

Gently, he applied a bit more pressure and with it some heat with his hand, trying to alleviate some of the pain radiating from your lower belly.

As Ben lay down on the bed, he pulled you close into his arms, pressing you carefully against him. His warm hand remained on your belly.

"Get some fucking sleep, sweetheart", he murmured against the top of your head.

You closed your eyes, feeling the tension slowly ebbing away as you started to relax.

———————————

A/N: Just look at that ass, damn it. He´s fucking 46 but Fuuuuck, he´s sooo fine.

And of course, Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 24

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #smut

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