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deanbrainrotwritings · 10 months

Text

— ALL I WANNA DO

SUMMARY : aka. part 2 of jump on into the fire. in which she finally makes a decision about ben’s previous offer to start a family together.

PAIRING : soldier boy x supe!reader (f)

CHARACTERS : billy butcher, hughie campbell

WARNINGS : nsfw (18+), smut, mutual masturbation, cum play, dacryphilia (Ben, *said scoldingly*), angst

WORD COUNT : 5.9k

A/N : title from splashh song. daydreaming is so fun, this is the birth of my imagination as i watched the boys. also, i chose the reader’s super name to be ‘guardian’ bc I play too much destiny 😔. edited this to be part two of jump on into the fire Xx

To say things were awkward and tense between her and Soldier Boy was an understatement. Even the rest of the team could feel the tension between them, but since Y/N tried to be as discreet as possible about their relationship, they chopped it up to her being upset at him. Especially after the events at Herogasm.

She could have handled the situation better, but the implication that he liked her, as in enough to have kids with her, set alarms off in her head. He put her on the spot and she wasn’t ready for that for multiple reasons.

For one, she didn’t always buy that pathetic, wide-eyed look he’d give them when he was talking about his mistakes, because he didn’t really feel all that bad about it. He’s a soldier, those were just collateral damage, casualties that occurred as he did his job, and so it doesn’t actually matter to him, and it probably never will. The problem wasn’t that he was evil, because he wasn’t, that was all Homelander. The problem was that Ben simply didn’t care. He’s a soldier meant to be ordered around, it didn't matter if he was right or wrong.

That night, just for a few seconds, she stopped seeing him that way. He said something sweet and instead of laughing it off or saying ‘shut up’, she actually liked the idea of being his, of starting a family.

That realisation was terrifying.

What would the rest of the team say? Even without MM, Annie, Frenchie, or Kimiko around, she could imagine their faces if they ever found out that she and Ben had a complicated relationship. Especially MM, and she empathised with him the most. She felt like she was betraying them, for what? A crush?

“You alright, Guardian?” Butcher asked, standing next to her. He was trying to analyse her, trying to get into her head and why she was now staring off past the glass door. She looked at him, eyes flashing up to his face and then to his posture, curiously tilting her head to the side at the sudden interest he had in her spaciness.

“Yeah, why?” She asked, looking away from him to stare out the door again, the nice view from the Legend’s place. She knew he’d probably, finally, bring up the awkwardness between her and Ben, his sudden sour mood, and the way he hadn’t tried to make a move on her since that night. Or maybe Butcher was going to sweep it under the rug like he seemed to be doing these days, focusing mainly on the fact that both her and Ben were still getting the job done properly. At least she was.

Ben seemed to have a lot of other stuff going on and what had happened at Herogasm made it clear that he wasn’t as okay or as in control as he liked to pretend he was. She was there after all, when Ben had confessed to Hughie that he’d blacked out, with those wet, puppy-dog eyes, claiming to be a good guy.

He was a bully, but more than anything, Ben was truly pathetic. He wanted to be the best, to stay at the top, to prove he was worth more than anyone else, and he hated it when anyone threatened that. It’s why he was on board with ending Homelander. It’s why he treated everyone around him like complete shit, especially if he felt they were trying to rise above him.

“Soldier Boy don’t want you to come,” he said bluntly, gazing at her without much of a fuck about how she’ll react. She quickly turned to look at him, confused and irritated as soon as those words came out of his mouth.

“What the fuck?” She glared at him, but mostly, she was pissed at Ben. Could he not tell her that himself? Then Butcher had the audacity to chuckle at her reaction and she narrowed his eyes. He only raised his hands with a smirk on his face when she shoved him for laughing. “Assholes!” She didn’t wait for him to say anything, just rolled her eyes and started to walk angrily to where Ben was now changing into his uniform.

When she slammed the door open, the doorknob cracked a hole into the wall and she could hear the Legend shout asking what the noise was but she couldn’t give two fucks about answering. Ben turned around to look at her, his face was serious at first when he zipped up the front of his suit, but then he froze when he saw her fuming.

“Why the fuck are you benching me?” She heard some shuffling by the door and she glared at Hughie and Butcher who were being nosy, only catching Hughie scrambling away and pulling Butcher with him.

“I’m not benching you,” Ben started, turning away from her unnecessarily to cover his chest with the heavy armour piece. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“I’ve been doing this alone for years. I don’t need you to protect me.” She narrowed her eyes at his back, staring at him as he practically ignored her. This was probably the longest conversation they’ve both had since that night, but the room was still thick with awkward and even sexual tension that set her skin on fire. “I’m going, fuck you if you don’t like it,” she said firmly after a few minutes of silence.

“The fuck you are,” he replied angrily, finally turning around to face her.

She hated herself, the way her body was already reacting to his hard stare. With his stupid green eyes practically boring into her, trying to force her to listen to him rather than get in the way of his focus. Because he knew he’d be too busy worrying about her getting mind-fucked to actually focus on anything. He could get Butcher and Hughie killed, but actually he didn’t give a shit about them, he could get her killed.

He couldn’t tell her that. If he did, she’d push him further away than she already had. To think he fucked up the one good thing he saw coming out of this shit mission, the one good thing in his entire miserable and disappointing life. He wanted her so bad and he wished he could take back what he said so things weren’t awkward between them. Because having her in any way that he could get her was better than this, but it was already out there. The implication of what he really wanted from her.

He couldn’t force her to want it. He couldn’t force her to like him. Hell, he didn’t even like himself. He was a fucking disappointment, so why would she think he was more than that? He was a fool and she was better than him. She didn’t sign up to work for Vought, she didn’t wear some stupid fucking suit for a slut, or get paid for saving the lives of the people in her city. She doesn’t give a shit about fame. She’s just her.

Y/N L/N, with a normal, boring job, and a secret life living up to the name her city gave her, the Guardian.

“Give me one good reason why it’s too dangerous for me to go.” She crossed her arms over her chest and waited expectantly for him to give her something. She knew he’d have way too many things to list and that each one would mean nothing to her. So, all he did was glare at her, cursing softly under his breath knowing he wasn’t going to win this argument, but fuck if it didn’t make him like her more.

It hadn’t gone as bad as Ben had thought it would go. Y/N didn’t get injured or even have to fight at all. Whether he’d liked it or not, he has Hughie to thank for that. There was no struggle or any big fight that broke out when they found Mindstorm with Hughie and Butcher, who was now awake.

Dan was distracted with Hughie and from a distance and at an angle, Ben threw his knife at Dan’s eye, preventing him from using his abilities on them. Y/N had been shocked, almost as much as Hughie when he’d bashed his head in with his shield, but the news he’d gotten from Mindstorm was something that left him feeling conflicted and angry, but most of all completely disappointed after calling Homelander.

“Everything good?” He heard Y/N speak up from the doorway. He forced himself to smile at her, not because he didn’t want to see her and wanted her to go away, but because he didn’t want to show that anything was wrong. Nothing was wrong anyway, not necessarily, he just didn’t want to believe that Homelander was his son, but it all made sense. Homelander was as disappointing as Ben’s father thought he was. Basically, Homelander was not the son Ben would have liked to have had.

“Yeah,” he responded, eyeing her every move guardedly. She shut the door behind her and looked around the room at first, probably expecting him to have had some granny or a sexworker in the room. He rolled his eyes, but knew she had every reason to think that about him. When she saw no one, she walked closer to him and he straightened up a little since she clearly was here for more than just small talk.

She didn’t seem to be avoiding him anymore, but that didn’t make him feel any better. She practically rejected him that night and made him feel unwanted. He still remembers the sting he felt when she just brushed him off. Earlier, she’d been pissed at him for slapping Hughie, for abandoning Butcher, and for being insensitive about the nun and the priest he’d killed, and he knew probably other things he did made her angry, but she got over it quickly. Despite having seen him lose it on more than one occasion, she always seemed to see straight through him and he hated it. Like right now, she tilted her head to the side slightly and her eyes moved across his face, trying to and succeeding in easily getting a read on him.

“Liar. You can’t hide that pathetically sad look on your face. You look like a kicked puppy,” she chuckled, looking away to trace random patterns on the surface of the table she leaned against. He narrowed his eyes at her and scoffed, looking away to stop her from doing that again, even though he missed hearing her and seeing her. “You’re not gonna tell me what Mindstorm said to you?” She bit her lip, watching his reaction to her question.

“Stop doing that,” he warned, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth thoughtfully. He looked up at her again, really took her in because he missed her despite what she might think about him and despite the irritation she made him feel when she tried to get him to open up or talk about his feelings like he was some sissy. He couldn’t help his next actions, the expression on her face was so gentle and troubled that he found he’d somehow closed the distance between them and thoughtlessly pulled her into a kiss to ease all those things from her face.

He expected her to hit him or push him away, hell, all of those things, but she just stood there for the fleeting moment in which he pressed his lips against hers. When he pulled away, just slightly, he tried to gauge her reaction and saw mostly confusion on her face. He licked his lips and gently held her face, frustrated and needy for her, but all he did was gently brush his thumbs across her warm and soft cheeks.

“You don’t hate me,” he said quietly. It was the one thing he was sure of at this point. No one really treated him like he was a person. They were scared of him, for good reason, or they just needed his abilities. Not her. She wasn’t scared of him, not always, and she definitely wasn’t using him despite working with Butcher which she met through Maeve.

His brows were furrowed, just watching her curiously as she gazed at his face, analysing every twitch in his face, every change in expression. Her mouth opened slightly to respond, but she mimicked his face, brows furrowing as she thought about why she just couldn’t hate him the way everyone else did or even why she wasn’t afraid of him.

To be fair, she didn’t know anything about him except from what she’d seen of him getting tortured. Somehow, that meant more to her than all the people that died while he was doing his job. Somehow, her feelings for him seemed to sprout and bloom despite knowing how MM felt about him. She cared about the team, probably more than they cared about her, and that made Ben angry. They didn’t deserve her and neither did he.

She should have been afraid, she should hate him the way everyone else does, especially with knowing he’s killed dozens of innocent people, with his temper that would drive him to be unnecessarily violent, the toxic masculinity that exuded from him. He was everything she’d hate in a person, but for some unknown reason, she didn’t hate him. She wanted to help him get better and to be there for him every step of the way. As foolish as it sounded, she felt she could fix him or at least soften his personality because so far, she’s learned all the reasons why he is the way he is, and she thinks given the chance, he could actually change. Not that he’d ever let her help him.

That was why she was so panicked when he’d shown genuine care and interest in her. What if she gave him the chance to be with her? What if she ended up falling for him only to be discarded once he was bored with her? What if he was incapable of changing and he treated her just like he treats everyone else? If he loved the Countess and he treated her the way he did, why would it be any different with her?

He interrupted her thoughts with another kiss, a gentle and almost sweet kiss that was so unlike him. It was meant to put her at ease and it nearly did, she felt her stomach flutter either nervously or because it made her swoon. She felt how loosely he held her face, giving her an out, and easy escape from being anywhere near him. And even though her mind once again screamed at her to get out, her feet were planted where she stood and she started to kiss him back just as softly.

HIs beard tickled the skin around her lips, but she didn’t mind. Instead, she had memories of other times she’d felt that when he kissed her, times where he worshipped every inch of her body with his mouth, and had his head buried between her legs. Her heart was beating quickly and roughly in her chest at the feeling of him kissing her so gently, for the first time, it wasn’t rough and careless. His lips moved tenderly and slowly against hers, stealing the breath from the lungs and making her knees weak.

She’d never been kissed quite like that and she didn’t think Ben even had the capacity to give someone a kiss like that. He was gentle and he wasn’t pressing, but there was still a hint of desperation and need for her that made her cling to the straps on his thin waist.

His warm hands slowly moved from her face to the hem of her shirt, which he played with contemplatively before simply moving them underneath it. He grasped her hips and tugged her forward until she was pressed tightly against his body with a quiet moan from her being muffled against his mouth. He could feel all of her even when clothed fully, but the soft and flimsy material of her sleepwear only triggered all the memories he had of her own body being trapped beneath his. The way she felt so perfect under his hands, every curve and every dip of her body felt as if it had been sculpted just for his touch.

He pulled away from her plush lips just to pull her shirt up and off her body. Carefully and deliberately, he stripped her, dragging his hands and mouth along her form to replace every article of clothing removed from her. Her skin started to heat up the longer he took, her body tensed with each teasing touch of his, waves of shivers following every touch, kiss, suck, and bite. And soon, she was standing naked in front of him. Her skin was flushed and she was breathing as heavily as he was. Her eyes just stared up at him, filled with an endless conflict and desire that he understood, but it also hurt more than he’d like to admit.

Still, she was the one who slid her hand to the back of his neck to pull him back down for a searing kiss. Her fingers threading through his hair, keeping him close as he busied himself with taking his suit off with her help. He was impatient with himself, undoing every buckle and loosening every strap, zipping everything down as swiftly as he could until he was as naked as she was.

This was new for him. He wasn’t in a frenzy to fuck. He took his time, moved slowly, watching her desire for him bloom the longer he took. Suddenly, it hit him that it felt different and new.

He stared down at her, eyes sweeping over the expanse of her face as he slid his hands down her back and he bent his knees to reach the back of her thighs. Looking up at her and the way she looked down at him, it turned him on. Like he was worshipping her. It was short-lived when she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him control of her body. He moved forward with her in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist and he kissed her neck and shoulder, nuzzling her sensitive skin and inhaling the clean scent of her skin.

Her uneven breaths and the little sighs that slipped from her parted lips spurred him on the whole way to the bed he’d claimed as his own. He placed his knees on the soft mattress and carefully dipped her until she let go of him and let herself bounce slightly against the soft sheets. There was a little smile on her face when he gazed down at her, and for once, she wasn’t thinking about what her team would want or how anyone would feel if they saw her with Ben, she focused solely on what she wanted and how she felt.

At that moment, everything seemed to click. When she reached out for Ben’s face, he leaned down to meet her resting his arm by her head. Her fingers once again tangled in his soft hair when he sealed her lips with his in a purposeful kiss, firm and full of promise before he moved his mouth down to her jaw. His teeth grazed her jawline, sliding down until he bit gently at her pulse point, drawing a gasp and a little moan when he swiped his tongue across the spot and sucked possessively. Her fingers tightened in his hair, her nails pushing into the muscle of his shoulder.

Heat flooded between her legs and she arched her back, his hand sliding up her side and under the curve to hold her in place. She couldn't decide whether to squeeze his legs in attempts to close her own or to open them wider for him. He pretended not to notice that and continued to kiss her neck, his lip lingered on her skin, proprietorial and ravenous as they trailed down her body. He took his time and made sure his mouth had been on every inch of her skin as he moved lower, biting at her collarbones and sucking on the skin above her breasts.

Little by little, she became more impatient. His plump lips wrapped around one of her nipples, lapping and sucking so her breathing would pick up. He slid his hand up from the arch of her back to tweak her nipple and pinch it between his forefinger and thumb, on the edge of being painful and pleasurable. Her clit throbbed, desperate for him to pick up the pace or give her what she wanted, and she could feel just how wet she was as the air around them hit her core.

She could have touched herself if she wanted, but she liked the torture, the ache that grew between her legs just waiting and letting him take his time with her body. It was hard to stay in control and she pulled roughly at the soft strands of hair that she clung to in order to stop herself from ruining the fun. Everything felt so sensitive and a million times more delicious, as if induced by drugs, but there was something about him that gave her that high every time. Maybe it was the fact that she’s never quite been fucked or touched like this before.

He’d look up at her every now and then, smirking occasionally at the sight of her with her head tipped back, moaning and squirming impatiently. He gently teased her skin with his nose, trailing his lips down the centre of her stomach, squeezing her sides when she wiggled her hips to get his attention. He smiled and nipped at her hip bones, dragging his bearded mouth across her thighs while avoiding where she clearly needed him.

Eventually, there was no part of her body that was untouched by his mouth and hands--except for her aching and wet cunt. But when he got to it, he just huffed out a breath over her dripping cunt to watch her squirm and lifted himself back up her body. He pressed a hard kiss to her neck and then kissed her lips, his tongue easily entering her hot mouth. They both moaned into each other’s mouths as he practically devoured her mouth, firm and needy while holding the back of her neck and tilting her head so he could kiss her as hungrily as he wanted.

“You’re so goddamn delicious, doll.” He pulled away from her breathlessly, his lips wet and swollen. He sat back on his legs, enjoying the sight of her looking just as wrecked as he felt. She was flushed and warm and her hungry eyes were slowly dragging over his face and down his body. She licked her lips when she got to his cock, hard and throbbing and leaking at the tip.

“Ben,” she murmured, a hint of neediness in her voice that made him smirk. Using her elbow to lift herself up, she reached over to wrap her hand around the base of his cock before he could continue to tease her.

“Shit,” he groaned. His hips bucked into her hand and she slowly started to lift her hand up, thumbing some precum over the soft head, and squeezing all the way down until he let out a strangled moan.

“Touch me,” she whispered, and even though he detected it being a command more than a plea, he complied. He dragged his hands up the back of her thighs and spread her legs, his hooded green eyes glued on her glistening folds.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet for me, sweetheart,” he praised, dragging two fingers from her slick entrance to her clit. He lifted the wet fingers to his face and she blushed when he inhaled the scent of her arousal before slipping the two fingers into his mouth with a satisfied moan. “Christ, you taste so good.” He brought his fingers back to her pussy, pushing his two fingers into her entrance, his fingertips curled to rub against her walls everytime he pushed them in and out, going deeper and deeper, slowly, and only going fast when he felt the way she expanded inside.

“Holy fuck, Ben,” she gasped, her pussy squeezing his fingers and gazing up at him with her pretty glazed eyes.

Even in her dazed state, she continued to jerk him off with quick, stuttered and uneven tugs. He could feel his own orgasm beginning to form with the way she was looking at him, his stomach tightening when his eyes flickered down to her hand, now wet and coated in his precum.

She moved her hips eagerly against his hand and only stopped when he flattened a large hand on her stomach, a small cry leaving her lips when he added a third finger into her squelching cunt. “That’s right, baby, cum on my fingers,” he encouraged, lowering his hand to her pelvis to quickly massage her clit with his thumb.

“Shit… Ben,” she hissed, letting her orgasm wash over her, wave after wave of pleasure making her body shake. He groaned softly, shoving his fingers deep into her cunt to brush his fingers against the sensitive spot deep inside over and over until she collapsed onto her back, her hand becoming still on his cock to wrap around his wrist instead.

“That’s my good girl,” he lauded, slowly slipping his fingers out of her. She murmured his name softly at the praise as he slid his hand up and down her sides comfortingly and stared down at his fingers. They were coated in clear slick and creamy cum that made his mouth water. “Shit, look at that,” he chuckled, licking his lips. He leaned over her, shoving a clean hand to the back of her head to grasp her hair. With a harsh pull, he forced her eyes open so she could watch him lick away her release from his fingers. “Make me cum and I’ll fill you up,” he promised, then shoved two of his saliva-coated fingers into her mouth, thrusting them in and out of her mouth the way he would if it was his cock.

He scooted closer, close enough so that her thighs were thrown over his and his cockhead brush against her stomach with every quick drag of her hand on his wet cock. He purposely pushed his fingers deeper into her mouth, moaning softly when she gagged momentarily and closed her eyes to blink tears away when he kept shoving them as deep as he could into her throat.

“No, no, look at me, honey. You’re so fucking pretty when you--oh, fuck,” he rasped, grunting softly in surprise. His cock twitched excitedly as hot tears flowed down her cheeks and she moaned softly when he tightened his grip on her hair. He came with a soft growl of her name, spilling hot and messy on her stomach and breasts, feeling an overwhelming intensity in his orgasm while gazing into her watery eyes. He didn’t know if it was the eye contact, or the way her eyes glazed over with tears with her lashes sticking together that pushed him over the edge, but whatever it was, it made him cum faster than they both expected.

“Jesus, Ben,” she laughed softly, releasing his now limp cock. He just panted heavily, leaning back on his legs with his head tipped back and his eyes closed. He basked in the aftershocks of the mind-blowing orgasm he just had with his hands on her hips and she licked her lips while wiping away tears from her cheeks and eyes.

He looked back down at her once he recomposed himself, catching her playing with his cum splattered on her chest and in the middle of lifting her fingers into her mouth. She looked at him and snickered when she saw the look on his face as she started to lick at the cum on her fingers, his eyes darkening and his cock hardening all over again.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss her roughly. She moaned softly, pleasantly surprised when he rocked his hips against hers, sliding his cock through her folds and over her clit teasingly. He reached between their bodies and lined himself up with her entrance, easily thrusting into her with a snap of his hips.

He carefully rocked his hips against hers, lifting himself up slightly so they parted from the searing kiss to gaze down at her. Her eyes fluttered open, but she didn’t protest, just slid her hands along the hefty planes of his back, stopping only when she got to his broad shoulders to hold onto them. He stopped suddenly after letting his eyes drift over her face, then he hid his own in her neck and slid his arm under the small of her back.

“Homelander’s my son,” he mumbled against the connection between her neck and shoulder. She froze and her eyes widened when she deciphered what he’d said and slid her hands from his back to push at his shoulders, but he didn’t budge. “That’s what Mindstorm told me,” he added quietly.

“What the fuck, Ben?” She grumbled, yanking his hair in attempts to get him off her, but he just growled and swivelled his hips defiantly. “You’re gonna tell me that now?” She protested and he gave an unhumourous nod into her neck, lifting himself up just to kiss her to distract her from what he’d blurted out. She kissed him back begrudgingly with her eyes open.

“I knew you’d react this way,” he said softly against her lips. She bit his lip roughly and he hissed, pulling away to glare at her and was met with a fierce glare from her.

“Yeah, fuck you,” she muttered, squirming angrily in attempts to get away from him. She felt used, as if he’d hide that from her just to get a quick fuck.

“Please,” he whispered, pulling out when he realised she wasn’t giving him a chance to explain himself.

“Please what?” She spat, shoving him away to think about what he just revealed. Out of everyone she’s ever met, Homelander was someone she truly despised. He was an utter piece of shit and he had a long list of vile traits that she despised in people, supe or not. He was a fucking child and he was out of control, no one ever having told him ‘no’ his whole life. “What the fuck do you want from me?” She asked, moving away to pace around the room or even to leave Ben the same way she had before.

“You know what I want,” he retorted, suddenly it wasn’t about Homelander. Fear of being left alone again made Ben grab her arm to stop her from getting out of bed. “You’re not fucking stupid, sweetheart,” he reminded, gently tugging her back to him. She didn’t budge, but she looked over at him when he let her go. She caught a glimpse of the resignation on his face, the vulnerability she’d rarely seen on his face, before he could mask it. She sighed in defeat, deciding to hear him out after all.

“Ben…” She sat on the bed, facing him and reached out to brush his hair away from his face. He moved away from her touch, sitting at the edge of the bed with his back to her. She dropped her hand in her lap and watched him, her eyes drifting to the large window in front of him that let her see what he could no longer hide from her.

“If you’re not gonna say what I wanna hear, don’t say anything and get out,” he said harshly, his shoulders slumped and overall, he looked defeated. She’d expected him to lash out or to hear how he didn’t want to kill Homelander, but it was probably worse to see him like this.

“Ben, it won’t work out.” She said it softly, but it hurt him like a million knives in the chest. In reality, the hurt he felt hearing her say that didn’t compare to the forty years of torture he was put through in Russia.

“It could work… I could make it work,” he said quietly, “when we’re done with Black Noir and Homelander, and I will kill him… It’ll just be you and me, Y/N. Maybe… we can start a family somewhere else, far away from all this bullshit.” He looked over his shoulder slightly just to read her face when she remained quiet.

She chewed on her lip, frowning as she considered his words. He was still willing to kill Homelander, his son. That should be worth something. He actually wanted something normal when he was done with this and she was more surprised than doubtful of his words. He spoke so softly, as if he’d had this plan all his life and finally found someone who could fill in the faceless mother of the children he wanted in his fantasy. He was willing to retire and he wanted that with her.

After spending years being an abusive and toxic asshole, then wasting decades more of his life being tortured, it made sense to her that he just wanted to cherish the rest of his time doing shit he’s always wanted rather than trying to prove he was worth something. In many ways, being a father could fulfil that need to prove he wasn’t a complete disappointment. After he’d been told that so much by his father, he was incapable of seeing himself as anything but a disappointment. This was his way out and she could easily open that door up for him.

Or she could slam that door in his face like a coward. She could continue to be too afraid to be hated by a team that didn’t give two fucks about her. Why she prioritised their opinions on her puzzled her as much as Ben being vulnerable right now.

“Get out,” he muttered, staring at her with his face hard. She blinked and focused on him again, her mouth fell open to say something, but he turned away and was sitting straight. The walls he’d let down were up again, probably stronger than ever before, and she made her way over to him on her knees, sliding her hand up his neck to cup his chin and tilt his head back so he’d look up at her.

He stared at her with steely eyes, but she kissed him, painfully squeezing his chin until he moaned and opened his mouth to let her tongue slip past his lips. He reached up to wrap his fingers around her wrist, silently telling her to loosen her grip and she did, kissing him firmly, saying everything she couldn’t say with the heated kiss. He melted into her, turning slowly until she had to pull away to accommodate the new position he was kissing her in.

“I’m not gonna let you push me around and tell me what to do,” she murmured between kisses, moving up the bed with him until her head was settled against the fluffy pillows.

“I won’t do that,” he promised, taking his soft cock in his hand and jerking it until he was stiff and ready again.

“There’s a lot more,” she murmured distractedly.

“I can imagine,” he laughed softly, gently pushing himself into her, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

➥ your sword versus my dagger

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#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy smut #the boys #the boys smut #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x fem!reader #soldier boy x female reader #3.3

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syrma-sensei · 1 year

Text

→ Different World, Different Words.

gif credit.

pairing: soldier boy x fem!reader.

rating: explicit.

warning: soldier boy pov, ben's being a fluffy yet dirty bastard, ben's being smitten with you, domestic fluff, dirty talk, fingering, size kink if you squint, swearing a lot of swearing, doesn't necessarily follow the canon plotline.

word count: 866.

summary: ben's trying to fit in this fucked-up, new world.

→ masterlist | ao3

“So it means a pussy.”

“For the millionth time, Ben, No!”

He shakes his head, unconvinced, “A man who does the most motherfucking cringey stuff to impress a chick. In my times we were used to call him a pussy.”

Ben puts the dish he just rinsed in the drying rack then takes the plate full of soap she just washed. The topic of modern slang was brought up at the dinner table a few minutes ago, when Ben was trying to literally impress her how adaptive and quick he is.

This time she's the one to shake her head, biting adorably on her lower lip, “Well, yeah but—” She snaps her head to the side to look at him. He's huge compared to her, almost covering the entire sink with his figure. A wide smile on her face, “Wait a minute, did you just say cringey.”

“Yeah, so?” He glances at her from the corner of his green eyes. He could've sworn he saw pride in her eyes. His heart skips.

“Where did you learn that from?” She asks teasingly, proceeding with doing the rest of the dishes.

“Urban dictionary.” She makes a snoring sound, and his eyebrows knit in confusion, “What? That whining cum-guzzler told me about it.”

She wiggles her eyebrows, lips puckering up amusedly, and he feels wildly tempted to crash them with his lips.

“Oh, poor Hughie, must've been fed up with your pussy this and pussy that.” She lets out a giggle, “Can't blame him tho. The things come out of that tongue of yours can be so gross sometimes.”

“Diffrent times, different words.” He says, “Still don't make sense to me.”

Ben then raises an eyebrow, watching her drying her hands with a towel when she's done, he follows her when he is too. He hums playfully, lips curling up into a mischievous grin. “Hmh, last time I checked, you liked the things I do with this tongue of mine.”

A deep crimson colour smudges her cheeks, she looks at him with adorable, upset face. “Well, yeah, it has some perks.”

“Oh, yeah?” With his strong arms, he lifts her effortlessly up to the countertop. Her face meets his, her cheeks are still red despite everything. “How about going to bed...” He pecks her lips, once, twice. “and let me fuck this pretty pussy nice and slow,” In a matter of seconds she's chasing his lips for more, “and show you the wonders my tongue is capable of.” He caves in to her want and gives her a kiss. Long and devouring, his tongue is already in her mouth, exploring and tasting, and swallowing her moans.

“Oh, God.” She breathes against his lips, “Ben I can barely walk thanks to last night's fucking. I don't have your fucking supe stamina.” She keeps on kissing him, nevertheless. Nibbling and sucking on his lower lip in such a teasing way, while her small hands cup his bearded cheeks.

Ben groans deeply, burying his face in her neck. “You don't have to do anything, just take what I give you.” His hand slides in between their frames to find her clothed clit. He smirks, filthy little slut; the thin layer of her panties is practically drenched. “Oh, baby, sure you don't wanna let me fuck you dumb tonight too?”

She lets out a pathetic moan when his fingertip presses to her erected clit. She holds onto his strong biceps for support as he proceeds taunting her, “Hmh, bet you can't wait to squeeze my cock empty in your fucking slutty pussy.”

“Ah, Ben, p-please...!” She whimpers, hips rolling against his fingers for more fraction.

“Shhh, I got you.” With one firm move, Ben rips her panties away.

“Ben!” She chides, “Quit doing that to my clothes!”

He fakes a sympathized hum before he buries two fingers in her cunt. “I'll buy you new ones.” A devious grin adorns his mouth, “Though you don't need any around me.”

With half-lidded eyes, she glares at him. And his heart swoons at the cute, angry face she's giving him. “God, you're the worst.” She huffs and kisses him furiously. A deep chuckle rumbles within his chest, his fingers curl and twist inside of her drawers, her arousal glistening wet on his knuckles.

“Ben, fuck!” Her thighs squeeze shut on his fingers when shivers her orgasm out. “Fuck, Ben, st-stop it's too much!” She begs him as he fucks her through her high.

She rests her forehead on his chest when he pulls out. “You're a dick.” Her voice is muffled by his shirt.

He laughs amusedly, “Though you like it.”

“I like your dick, not you being one.” She gazes up at him, giggling. “You just enjoy fucking me up.”

“Yes, I do.” He says, a brutal grin on his lips, “I love ruining you.”

She roughly pushes him away with her foot on his chest, he raises an eyebrow at her as she jumps onto the floor, still quivering from her orgasm.

She glances at his bewildered face over her shoulder, giving him a wink, “Then stick to your words and ruin me in bed, tiger.”

Ben follows her with a wolfish grin on his face.

#soldier boy imagine #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy the boys #the boys season 3 #the boys soldier boy #soldier boy smut #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles fanfiction #the boys fanfiction #the boys fanfic #the boys x you

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acapelladitty · 4 months

Text

Monomania (fic)

Pairing - Homelander/Hughie (The Boys)

Summary - In the midst of a messy fight, Homelander comes to a somewhat stunning conclusion involving Hughie.

It was incredible, unthinkable even, that Homelander had found himself in this situation.

Hugh Campbell. Hughie. Starlight's little pet human. The gangly asshole who nipped at William's heels as William actively sought out as many different pain in the ass ways of inconveniencing his life as possible.

Hugh Campbell.

A pathetic human.

But a pathetic human who was currently trading hits with him due to the compound v which flowed through his veins to give him access to the sort of power that he probably used to jack off thinking about.

"Little Hughie." Homelander spat, dodging a messy right hook. Hughie had strength, yeah, but it was clear that neither man was a particularly trained fighter even if Homelander still held the advantage. "A fucking waste of skin compared to the people he surrounds himself with. One day that little girlfriend of yours is going to find herself a real man.”

Ducking under another swing, Homelander landed a strike of his own and his fist bounced off Hughie’s chest with a pained grunt.

“Supes and humans? A mess. Trust me. I've made enough of them." Homelander continued, refusing to allow his growing exertion to show on his features as he pushed Hughie off him – his heart thumping in his chest as his jaw throbbed in discomfort.

Hughie snarled his anger, his boyish features twisted into something almost inhumane as he threw fists with an obvious lack of thought. In the heat of the fight, Homelander could hear how laboured Hughie’s breathing had grown; how erratic and fucked up it was as his blood rushed through his veins and his pulse jumped with every strike. The stench of adrenaline, hot and heady, also hung in the air and the sheer potency of it was intoxicating.

Almost absent-mindedly, Homelander adjusted the crotch of his suit as he flew to the side to narrowly avoid a kick. Adrenaline and anger. Two familiar feelings which sat low in his belly and made his cock twitch despite his fury. He was the fucking Homelander and fighting like this-

His thoughts were knocked clean out of his head as a sharp fist caught him on the temple - sending his body stumbling backwards as the sheer indignation of being caught out burned within his chest like a serpent’s venom.

It only lasted a moment as Hughie's furious expression was quick to fill his sight. Panting and red-faced with the effort, Hughie looked down at him with such intense contempt that it actually made Homelander pause as long fingers wrapped around his throat and started to squeeze.

Even with the compound v, its potency already feeling like it was beginning to fade as Hughie’s movements grew more sluggish, it would be a hard task to choke him out and Homelander took a moment to look - really look - at the man attempting to kill him.

Hughie was handsome in a basic sort of way. He lacked the bulk and muscle of William but he certainly wasn't as scrawny and pathetic as he seemed to be on first glance. In his rage and erratic movements, a few curls of his brown hair had fallen over his forehead and remained plastered there by sweat.

Tall as fuck too.

It wasn’t often Homelander fund himself having to tilt his head to meet someone's gaze and what a gaze it was.

Hatred.

Pure hatred oozed from every millimetre of Hughie's eyes as the blue there appeared to grow steelier by the second and the utter intensity of his gaze, malicious as hell, made heat pool in Homelander's stomach as he drank in the undivided attention.

Atop him, Hughie’s body was an inferno of heat; a mixture of exertion and the compound which was burning through his unfamiliar cells like a supernova. Caged as he was against the wall, the pressure of Hughie's body pushing against his own was surprisingly erotic as the adrenaline and the attention and the flex of the hands around his sensitive neck caused his cock to grow harder between his legs.

With Hughie's hands still around his neck, Homelander easily jerked his head forward in one swift movement and caught Hughie's lips in his own, his actions not fully coming to terms with his thoughts until Hughie recoiled his head in disgust.

The first thing that registered in his head, aside from a burning shame, was a dull pain as Hughie's fist once again connected with his temple. The second was the warmth of lips against his own as Hughie followed the blow by pressing his face in close enough to allow Homelander to capture his mouth once again. Hughie’s lips were soft, nothing like his hard eyes, and Homelander snapped his teeth down on his lower lip, something victorious growling in his chest as he immediately tasted blood and Hughie pulled away with a throaty grunt of pain.

"You're a fucking monster." Hughie hissed.

The fury, that wickedly intoxicating fury, still radiated from his eyes but something predatory - something familiar - lurked in the shadows behind it and the hint of it send a coil of arousal through Homelander’s groin.

Little Hughie had a dark side it seemed, and in that instant Homelander decided that he was going to make it his new project to push the other man as far as he could to see how deep the darkness ran.

Shoving Hughie off him as though discarding a blanket, Homelander readied himself for another fight as he watched Hughie scramble to his feet – confusion and rage now at war on his handsome features as he attempted, vainly, to settle his breath. His eyes dropped for only a second to the undeniable bulge which tented at Homelander’s groin, evidence of his shameful desire, before snapping back up as a snarl overtook his mouth once again.

With the fresh seeds of obsession sewing their way into the landscape of his fragile mind, Homelander tensed himself up for barrle once more as a familiar smirk settled across his lips.

Little Hughie.

#first time writing for this pair so be gentle with me and we'll get through this in one piece #homelander #hughie campbell #hugh Campbell #hughie campbell x homelander #homelander x hughie #antony starr #jack quaid

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z3nitsusgf · 2 years

Text

sewn into my silver lining

billy butcher | you - 2.3k

cw: angst angst angst, no happy ending, mention of blood and violence, butcher being butcher, toxic dynamics

a/n: he’s sad pathetic and sad i hope his brain turns to swiss cheese fr (affectionately)

He comes to you bloodied and dripping in viscera.

Frenchie and Kimiko are off getting supplies, probably smooching in the middle of the snack aisle. Hughie is busy at work, being cushy with Neuman and getting his bagels stolen from his boss. MM is with his daughter, couldn’t be bothered with Butcher’s bullshit anymore. So that leaves you, sweet ol’ you, to take care of the English bastard when he comes blazing through the place.

Butcher doesn’t say much when he pushes open the door and stalks inside. His boots left red sticky patterns on the tile. He’s spattered in blood, the color so deep it looks almost black on his jacket. Another one of his ugly Hawaiian button-up’s ruined because he’s too in love with the feeling of fighting. His face smeared in the irony liquid and god - he reeks of copper and dirt.

Your lips curl at the sight of him. You’ve long since grown used to the sight, but he usually makes an attempt to clean up before he sees you. He says it’s because he doesn’t wanna hear your bitching, but you know deep down he’s saving you the anxiety of having to see him like that.

When he looks at you he gives you a wide feral smile, teeth glinting a pearly white, “Ello love, m’home.”

You can tell he’s exhausted, whether it’s physically or mentally you can’t decipher. Probably both knowing him. You scoff at his words, shaking your head as you glance over his stumbling body. He’s a wreck.

“You look like hell Butcher. What happened, ass-bomb another supe?” He fucking laughs because of course he does, his hands clutching his bruised ribs as he wheezes out breathy chuckles. Every exhale makes his eyes water, the fluttering along his ribcage shows signs of hairline fractures, a bitch to heal.

He’ll never ask for your help, only taking it when he needs it. Still, you offer it anyways.

“Good one love, but no.” He doesn’t explain anymore and you don’t ask. He gets cagey when you prod him for answers and you don’t really feel like dealing with a cunty Butcher right now.

You sigh, getting up from your place on the ragged couch. You don’t bother to turn off the TV, it's nice to have the background noise when he doesn’t speak. You’re pointing to the bathroom, a knowing look on your face.

“Come on old man, you smell like shit.” His thick brows draw up and he looks at you with a straight face, the smirk dropping off his mouth. You almost laugh, biting back the chuckle as he curls his lip at you.

“M’not that old.” He grumbles, allowing you to wrap your arm around his waist and guide him to the bathroom.

“Mhmm, yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night, geezer.” He rolls his eyes at your words, hiding his smile.

The place is not glamorous, the building is old as shit and better left for rats and junkies. But it makes sure you all are hidden from The Seven, Homelander especially. You won’t lie though, you miss your clean, nice bathroom from your old apartment. This one is dingy, glowing with a gross-looking fluorescent that buzzes so loud you think you’ll go deaf. The porcelain tub is permanently stained with.. you don’t know what. But there’s clean(?) water and electricity, so you can’t complain too much.

He sheds his coat, the poor thing has seen more carnage than you will in your entire life, and he sits on the closed lid of the toilet, rolling his neck in a tired manner. The bones crack, the soft warm gush floods the nerves and he sighs out in relief.

You already know the drill, pulling out a relatively clean rag and running it under the tap and a small plastic first-aid kit. You stand between his legs, dabbing at the cut on his cheekbone with the damp cloth. He doesn’t flinch or wince or even make snarky comments while you clean his bloodied face, trying to be gentle with the cuts and bruises that littered his skin. The faded yellow and blue kiss all over his skin, disappearing into his beard where you know more scars lie.

“You need to be more careful.” You mumble, swiping along his forehead.

He grins, a cheeky smile on his lips, “Why? Ya worried about dear ol’ me?”

You scoff, pushing the rag harder against his skin. He just smiles harder at the pain, the lines of his face showing as he leers up at you.

“No, I’m just running out of bandages because you keep getting your ass handed to you.” You sass back, huffing at him like he’s a stubborn dog. And he is. A stubborn old dog that’s learned his tricks and won’t drop them now because they’re embedded into his system like cancer.

“Besides, you gotta keep this pretty face intact. What will Hughie do if you lose your teeth and have to get dentures?”

You pat his cheek in a mocking manner and Butcher clicks his tongue. He comes up and pinches the side of your waist, reveling in the yelp you give him.

“Don’t act like you don’t adore this pretty face.”

You go back to wiping the carnage from his face, humming under your breath. He is very pretty, handsome like the moon. With high resting cheekbones, how his words drip from his lips like nectar. Down to the sloping breach of his nose and the puffy waterline of his sunken eyes, blinking under heavy lashes. He’s an old type of beauty, one that gets better as he ages. You’ll never admit that to him though, you’ll just admire it from far, occasionally getting to touch it when he allows you to.

It’s the little things that you know about him that give you clarity. Those small quirks only you know or notice. Like the silent way he observes the world around him. And the blank way he stares into space and seemingly disappears into his own void. The way he clasps his palms together and holds them like a prayer, keeping them close to his thighs. the way he likes his coffee - strong with lots of sugar in it and no cream).

You’re both bathed in the glow of the bathroom, the faint buzzing of the lights and the scattered talking of the TV all blend together in a calm haze. It all feels too domestic.

You’re a sweet thing, like Hughie. Young, with the world at your feet. and Butcher is dragging you down with him. He hates that he doesn’t have the heart to let you go. To tell you that none of this is worth it, that he’s self-serving and bad for you. Butcher keeps his eyes down, dark eyelashes fluttering with each soft drag of the cool fabric across his heated skin. He hardly notices the sting of the water seeping into his cuts. It feels good, he doesn’t remember the last time someone touched him so softly. Years, he thinks. When she used to-

There’s a tenderness you show him. Like gentle April rain, you shower him in a sweetness he does not deserve. One that makes his lips purse and his jaw tick, one that reminds him too much of her.

You’re too focused on debating whether or not he’ll need stitches to notice his change in demeanor. Butcher grabs your wrist, fingers tightening around the bone. You can’t tell if he’s trying to push you away or pull you in.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, voice too soft for someone like him. You smooth your other hand over his hairline, uncaring of the sweat and blood that coats the pads of your fingers. What isn’t wrong? This whole façade is slipping out of his hands and he can’t keep pretending he’s not tired of getting up each time he gets knocked down. This world is so cruel, has been so cruel. And he doesn’t know what to do with it all.

He’s so full of rage. It’s dangerous to keep it all inside. A man only has a grip as tight as he does because he knows that if he lets go, even slightly, he will hurl himself into the abyss. He needs to hate the whole world and everything in it. Butcher doesn’t shed his pain, instead, he upholds it like a boulder over his shoulders.

He looks up at you, he feels himself wanting to just let you in. Just give up and crumble into your chest. There’s a pull in his chest that begs him to just completely open himself up to you. Let you smooth over his scarred wounds and heal the new ones. But he won’t.

His eyes harden and he’s letting go to smack your hand away from his face, the sting spreads across the back of your palm. Your lips part at the feeling.

“Quit treating me like I’m your fuckin’ daddy, cause I ain’t. You want someone to take care of so badly why don’t you get a fuckin’ dog.”

You joined knowing what kind of man he is. Hell-bent on getting rid of supes and stubborn as a mule. William Butcher was no saint, but he’s more broken than he’ll ever admit. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t burn whenever he’s mean.

“I-“

He’s snarling, lacing his tone with so much hot-spit rage that you draw back,

“You’re so fucking clingy n’ pathetic. You always need one of us to save ya and ya can’t even handle a bit of roughing up.”

You should be used to it by now, the brutal humiliation and the way he flips on a dime. You’ve seen it, with Hughie and Kimiko. But you’re not. You’re still soft in the center, still raw and open, still too naïve.

He’s not looking at you, he’s staring past you. Behind your silhouette and at the flickering of the bathroom light that casts dark shadows on the peeling wall. His jaw is clenched so hard you’re almost worried about him chipping his teeth, there’s a vein that pops on his forehead.

You clench the rag tighter in your fist, there are salty crystalline tears that prick your waterline. You always hate crying in front of the boys, especially Butcher.

“Fuck you, you’re such-“ You inhale shakily, the air so hot and humid you want to choke.

“You’re such an asshole, Butcher.”

It’s juvenile at best, your shitty little comeback is all you can throw back in his face. Words he’s heard a million times. He chuckles, eyes roaming over your face, he sees the glassy look in your eyes, the lip tucked between your teeth. He lands the final blow, severing it completely.

“One of us has to be. Can’t have you ruinin’ everything just cause you’re too weak to get it done.”

He twitches at the breathy inhale you give. He’s got this clenched look on his face, the plane of his features so blank you want to just crumble on the spot. His mouth is pursed, eyebrows drew together in a way that shows he’s serious.

How does he always manage to make you feel bad for wanting to be good?

Butcher knows he’s a piece of shit, knows that you’re just an innocent thing that got caught in the cross-fire. He’s always pushed and pushed and pushed everyone’s boundaries, to see how far they can go before they leave. But he still wants to punch himself when he hears your sniffles. The quiet quiver of your lip and the subtle tremble in your knuckles as you completely pull back from between his thighs.

He misses your warmth.

Sometimes you hate him, sometimes you wish he’d just disappear and never come back like he often threatened to do when everyone was getting too soft. Like right now, you want to smack him in the mouth for being so… so mean. You know it’s stupid, childish, but you want him to understand.

But then he saddles up to you like a beaten dog. Looking at you with soft dark eyes and giving you a worn smile that makes your heartache. You hate to admit that Butcher has wormed his way in, like smoke in your clothes. You always knew he would come back, even if he never made any promises. A silly childish part of you always hoped that he would stay.

Maybe that’s your mistake, thinking he would ever soften up. Even if it was for you.

He’s silent, brooding, acting like it’s not even a big deal. That makes you snap, the disregard he has for everyone. You snarl at him, lips curling over your teeth as you bare your incisors at him. You fling the rag into his face, turning on your heel as you call out over your shoulder,

“Clean yourself up or don’t, I don’t fucking care.”

Your tone is so watery, so filled with that tiredness that Frenchie and MM have. It makes him sick. Butcher jumps slightly when he hears you slam the front door. He can hear your boots as they stalk away, the muffled sniffles coming from your nose. he knows you’ll go off, whether to cry or be alone (or both), but he doesn’t make any move to stop you.

He’s alone.

He knows you’ll come back. Knows that in the dark of night you’ll slip back into the apartment. And if not, Kimiko and Frenchie will go and find you, pleading with you to come back and give it another chance. They always do.

Butcher clings to the rag you threw at him, fisting the material as he grits his teeth.

Why is he like this? Why can’t he just be satisfied with what he has? Why must he always crave more? Why is it so goddamn exhausting to keep himself indifferent? He’s never felt sad, only despair. Never mad, only full of resentment. He’s never been embarrassed, he only knows humiliation. And he loathes to feel this way because he constantly searches his brain for a time he was truly joyous, but he always comes up empty.

Always his fault, always. You’re just another unfortunate soul that got too close, bearing the brunt of his oozing heart.

#val.writes ❦#the boys.✮#the boys x reader #the boys x you #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x y/n #billy butcher x you #billy butcher #the boys #the boys angst #billy butcher angst

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cute-bag-of-bones · 11 months

Text

Can't Trust A Supe

Part 3: I'm Scared

Masterlist

Warnings: slight gore and mentions of death.

Homelander's hands were behind his back as he just stared at me for an agonizing amount of time. His expression was unreadable. I wish I could muster the courage to just kill him. I should be better than this. Scared of such a pathetic man. My dad would be ashamed if he could see this.

"Can I h-help you?" I tried to sound confident but the stutter ruined any hope of that. He looked surprised like he just remembered something.

"Right I was thinking about it and you have hung on to that old dirty toy for so long. I figured you'd want a new one." He pulled a new Homelander plush from behind his back. He seemed so excited like a dog showing off a dead bunny to its owner. He handed it to me. It took all I had in me to keep my hand from shaking as I grabbed it.

"Wow um t-thank you."

"You haven't seen the best part. Give it a squeeze." I looked down at the toy and pressed its belly.

-I'm Homelander, ready to fight some crime together?- The real Homelander mouthed along with the doll as it spoke. He seemed very proud of the gift. "This little guy has 10 unique phrases. Pretty great right? Way cooler than your other one."

"Well I just l-" I had to pause to take a deep breath. "I just love it, thank you." I say plastering the most convincing fake smile I could manage. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. I wanted to light this creepy thing on fire and throw it in the Hudson River. Why was he giving this to me? What's his game? I heard him begin to speak but he's interrupted by a father and son wanting an autograph. I take my opportunity and get up. More people gathered giving me the perfect out. I ran off, down a busy street. I was over a block away before I stopped running. The beady-eyed plush stared at me as I tried to catch my breath. Grabbing it by both arms I pull as hard as I can. I hear stitches pop as it's back tears.

-Hey friend wanna pl- the voice box fell on the ground and I stomped it until finally it stopped making noise. I finish the job by ripping the toy in half and discarding it in the nearest dumpster. I had the major creeps. I knew there was only one safe place I could go.

When I knocked on the hideout door no one answered. I continued to bang getting almost frantic. I felt like Homelander was breathing down my neck. Finally Hughie opened the large door. I shoved my way past his lanky body and straight to Billy's normal spot. He wasn't there. Hughie followed me on my mission for Billy

"You looking for Butcher?" He asked figuring out what I wanted. I was so wrapped up in looking for Billy I had almost fully toned him out. I knew I looked crazy but I was scared and Billy was the only one I knew would be able to help me. I'm not sure how but I knew he would. I turn around and bump into a worried Hughie. He always walked so close behind people.

"Yes yes where is he? I need him."

"He's not here. Him and the others went to get something. M.M. said they would be a day's drive away. Why what's wrong? Why are you sweating so much?" He asked as he tried to wrangle me.

"Fuck! Fuck!"

"Stop it, come on, calm down. What's going on? Can I help?" He was so earnest. I finally sat down and looked up at him. He gave me a sweet smile and sat down with me.

"I'm scared." It felt wrong to say. The words themselves felt dirty and shameful. He gave me a confused look.

"They are gonna be okay, it's an easy run."

"Not scared for them. I'm scared for myself. It's Homelander." Hughie's expression changed, it became more serious. "He stopped me from getting mugged last night and he saw this." I say as I pull the old plush from my bag.

"Is that a Homelander plushie?"

"My mom gave it to me. He saw it and maybe he recognized it. I don't know but he found me in the park and gave me a new one." I was speaking so fast I almost couldn't understand myself. Hughie seemed to get it all. He was nodding along.

"Why would you keep that thing? He killed your family." Hughie asked, looking at the toy like it might come to life and strangle him. It was a valid question I guess. I wasn't sure myself. It was just when I looked at it I didn't see him. I saw my mom.

"That's not the point! Focus. I think he knows who I am. I look like my mom but I didn't think it was so obvious. That must be it. He's messing with me. He's gonna kill me." Tears started to fall down my cheeks, a warm reminder how much of a pathetic coward I was.

"But the other day, you said you didn't care if he killed you. You were fine going out in a blaze of glory, what happened?"

"I was wrong, it's different! It's all different when he's in front of you. I don't wanna die Hughie." He pulled me into a tight hug. "I don't wanna die Hughie!" I cried louder as he softly shushed me.

"You're not going to die. No one's going to hurt you." I knew logically there was nothing Hughie could do to help but somehow just hearing someone tell me it would be alright helped. I didn't get a lot of stuff like this once my parents died. "We can call Butcher and see what he thinks. Would that help?" He pulled away from the hug to look down at me. I took the opportunity to pull away myself.

"Um yeah yeah maybe."

"Okay I'll try and get a hold of someone and see if he can give you some advice or something." I nodded and he pulled out his phone and started to pace around the room.

The helplessness and fear I felt was indescribable. Sat here hiding, I couldn't get the thought out of my head.

"No one's answering." He sounded frustrated. I knew it was because he knew there was nothing he could do to make this stop. He was feeling helpless as well. I could see it in his eyes when he looked at me.

"Don't worry about it. Nothing he could do from there anyway. Just sit down, you'll put a hole in the floor pacing like that." And just like that the mask was back on. I dried my tears with the back of my hand. He came over quickly and sat back down.

"Maybe you and I cou-"

"No, whatever your plan is, it's a no. I'm just going to have to see if he comes. That's all I can do. There is no preparation, no shelter in place, no getting reinforcements. I'm just going to have to wait and see. Who knows I could be reading too far into this. I could be overreacting." I stood up and packed my bag back up. He frowned at me.

"Just go lay down in the back, I'm going to keep trying their cells." He said as he pressed the phone back to his ear.

"Nah it's getting dark enough. The shelter will let me back in. If I'm in a crowded all girl shelter there isn't much he can do to me. His reputation is more important than revenge." Hughie couldn't argue with the reasoning. After some reassurance he let me leave.

The walk to the shelter was a painful experience. Every shadow over head was him. Every voice was his. Every face I saw was his. I resorted to using my abilities just so I didn't have to see faces. It's true what they say we are all the same on the inside. I had to pull myself together. I wasn't going to let him rip my life apart again.

Muscular system after muscular system passed me as I walked. There was something calming about it, seeing people as nothing more than the parts that make us up gives you an odd perspective. It makes you feel small, insignificant in the best kind of way. 7.9 billion bags of flesh holding muscles, blood and bones, all walking around at once. All looking nearly indistinguishable from one another. Small, insignificant, unnoticeable that's all I want to be right now.

Things were normal at the shelter. Girls arguing with supervisors, others sleeping and some crying. I crawled up on my bunk and took out my Homelander plush before laying down with it like I did every night but tonight I was thankful it didn't have a voice box. I drifted to sleep plagued with nightmares of his eyes.

Sometime later I heard breathing close by and at first assumed it was my bunkmate. Warm air brushed against my face. They were much closer than they should be. I open my eyes and realize I'm faced to face with the expressionless face of Homelander. I let out a yelp and moved my head away. He looked so calm. I still had to be asleep. This has to be another nightmare. I didn't dare speak. He gave me a soft smile.

"Sorry I had to wake you, could you come outside with me?" He asked so kindly, it made me feel sick. I shook my head no still not finding my voice. The more awake I became the more I realized this was actually happening. I was as good as dead if I left this crowded room of sleeping girls. "Please? I think Liz would want you to come with me. Right Lizzy?" He said as he motioned for me to look down at my bunkmate. I looked between the space between my bed and wall and saw Liz sleeping soundly with a red gloved hand around her throat. He wasn't choking her yet but I had no doubt that's where this would go if I didn't come along.

"Okay okay." I say as softly and calmly as I could not wanting to give him any reason. Liz was a mother, she had never hurt anyone in her life. I couldn't let her die for nothing like this. It was now or never. I needed to get him out of this building and take my shot hopefully before he can kill me. I slowly climb the ladder down. My plush still in my hand. At the moment I didn't even realize I still had it. I was just trying to go as fast as I could without shaking the bed. As soon as my feet touched the ground he put his hand on my back to guide me outside to my certain death.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins as we walked. All of a sudden I could see bodies through the walls. Every single one of them in this building glowed to me like a fleshy X-rays. It was so disorienting I stumbled over the threshold of the door leading to the outside. I felt like I was going to float away if not for the firm hand on my back. I turned to face him. He too was just as see through as the others. How humanizing, staring up at his skinless face he looked just like all the others.

He was speaking to me. I could see his eyebrows furrow like he was mad or confused. I couldn't hear him through all I could hear was my own heartbeat. This was it, all in one shot I tried to pull his spine from his back. He hunched his shoulders a little and I definitely saw the bones move but for the most part his spine didn't budge. Panicking, I tried to rip his brain stem but it was like it was too tough to tear. Supe's are stronger than humans on average but I figured he'd be like translucent, hard on the outside but soft and squishy on the inside. I couldn't be more wrong. His hand grabbed my throat and pulled me close. I dropped the toy and tried to claw at his arm desperately. My nails bend when I rake them over his arm. I was sure a few were pulled off my fingers all together.

"What are you doing?" He growled. I wasn't sure if he meant too but he was holding me too tight. My ability's vision started to fade and I saw him clear as day. His eyes were glowing red. I wanted to cry but I didn't want that to be my last act on this earth. "Are you going to behave?" He said as his eyes stopped glowing. I wasn't sure what he meant. I couldn't understand why I wasn't dead yet. I tried to gulp but his hand was so tight it stopped me from swallowing. "Well, are you?" He actually wanted me to answer? I tried to nod the best I could and his grip loosened. I took a deep breath and tried to pull away from him.

"No, I don't think so." He says with almost an air of humor like he thought it was so funny I was trying to get free from his grasp. He put an arm around my back and lifted us into the sky. I continued to try and free myself much to his amusement. One second ago he was trying to kill me and the next he was laughing. He's crazier than I thought. We flew up so high I started to feel cold. The lights below blurred. The air was so thin up here but he seemed to be breathing fine. He looked down at me as I struggled for air. He has a slight smirk on his face as my actual vision starts to fade now.

"Shush, it's alright." He cooed over me. I fought it as long as I could. I didn't want his voice to be the last thing I heard. I tried to scream but nothing came out. Just like that all my air was gone and I was done for.

I thought I had died. I had accepted it. I wasn't sure how much time had passed but my head was killing me. Wherever I was it was dark. Too dark to see. What if I did die? Could this be the afterlife? Just darkness. Maybe it was hell.

"Mom, mommy?" I call out in a horst voice. I wait for a second and don't hear anything. There was a creaking sound and a door opened filling the room with light and blinding me. A caped figure stood in the doorway.

"Nope I'm not your mommy." He sounded almost soft and mocking all at once. It was worse than hell I was with Homelander.

#billy butcher #homelander #the boys #fanfic #hughie campbell #oc stuff #frenchie #mothers milk #the female #slight yandere #platonic yandere #platonic Homelander

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stranger-nightmare · 2 years

Text

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 | 𝐏𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥

requested by my lief

A/N: we’re taking Queen Maeve’s comment about Hughie’s energy just screaming ‘raw dog me, I’m a bottom’ and were rolling with it besties, enjoy!!

“Aw, my poor baby,” you coo mockingly. “Rough day at work?”

Hughie just nods silently, his head shifting where it was buried in your lap. You hum gently and stroke his hair.

“You want me to take care of you, hmm?” You ask invitingly, knowing exactly what it was he wanted; what he needed.

He looks up your with his puppy-dog eyes, nodding again and murmuring a soft ‘please’ against your stomach. You stroke his face again and lean down to place a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Okay baby,” you whisper, “why don’t you go get ready for me on the bed, yeah? And I’ll go get dressed.”

Hughie nods again before quickly getting up and padding his way over to the bedroom. You follow suit quickly after. Hughie strips immediately and moves to climb onto the bed, situating himself on all fours, his ass facing towards you as he looks back at you with need etched on his face. You smirk to yourself as you grab the strap and harness from the bottom of the cupboard, quickly shedding yourself of your own clothes and equipping yourself with the black harness and purple strap-on. You quickly spread some lube onto the dildo before making your way over to where Hughie was waiting for you.

“Hmm, that’s a good boy,” you hum as you reach the edge of the be.

You continue to hum gently, soothing and reassuring Hughie as you caress his hips gently, pulling him back so that he was lined up with your hips where you stood at the base of the bed.

“You ready baby?” You ask gently as you rub the tip of the dildo between his cheeks.

“Yes, please. Please. Need you,” Hughie mumbles pathetically, pushing his hips back against your strap.

“Don’t worry babyboy, I’m gonna take good care of you,” you coo as you slowly start to push into him.

Hughie whimpers and mewls, his arms giving way as he collapses onto the mattress, his ass lifting even higher as you start to fuck into him. You smirk to yourself lightly as you look at him, a whimpering and fucked-out mess already, and you’d barely even begun. You were going to fuck the living daylights out of this boy. This man who was willing to stand against Homelander despite being only mortal himself. This man who knew no fear when it came to protecting those he loves.

And he was a complete wreck under your touch.

If only the boys could see Petite Hughie now...

Main Masterlist // Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

#stranger nightmare #kinktober 2022 #hughie campbell #hughie campbell smut #hughie campbell imagine #hughie campbell x reader #hughie campbell x you #hughie campbell x y/n #the boys smut #hughie campbell x female reader

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imaginesbymonika · 2 years

Text

It all tastes like poison.

Part 6.

previous chapter

Pairing: Homelander x fem!reader / Solider Boy x fem!reader

Plot: based on this request: “can you please write an imagine about someone who use to be with soldier boy before he "died» which left her broken, but she still worked with vought for years because she ages slower than normal and she meets homelander who she kinda falls for, but when ben comes back she gets mixed emotions till he tries to kill homelander and then she'll have to work with everyone else to get him back into the box, which she doesn't want to do. LIKE ANGST?”

warning: f-bombs, mentions of death and murder, mentions of torture, mentions of nacked people and sex, mentions of nudes being published with consent

"Lord of the Seven Seas. Wow!", Tommy says as soon as he opens the door:" My man, I am such an incredible fan."

His sister only rolls her eyes, before she brings the black vape back up to her mouth:" Jesus, Tommy. Slather his balls in peanut butter, why don't you?" " Sorry, my sister's a goddamn bitch."

"And, uh, TNT. Right, I 'm a big fan of yours, too.", the Deep lies, while he points at the in golden clothes dressed siblings:" Cool outfits."

"Always felt like you got railroaded with that Starlight thing, by the way. You know, like what? Nowadays, you can't even pay a lady a compliment." A delicate smile arises on the Deeps face before he merely nods his head in agreement:" I know, right?"

"You're disgusting!"

Tommy turns to peek at his sister for a second before facing the Supe again:" Anyway, we are so pleased, you know, have a big star such as yourself grace our humble soiree."

"You guys are having a party?"

The two Supe's in front of him chuckle, as if they are eager to show the member of the seven what's going on behind their closed doors. Tommy takes a step to the side to let Kevin pass, only for him to stop dead in his tracks as soon as he comprehends what he is watching.

"Wait, is this...", he begins and clenches his jaw:" This is Herogasm."

----

"Oh, okay. So this- this is an actual orgy. That's what this is."

"Fucking Herogasm.", Butcher shakes his head in disbelief while a small smile emerges on his lips:" Still a thing, eh."

"It's my thing, I founded it. in '52. ", Soldier Boy explains, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees that Y/N is rolling with her eyes. He clears his throat:" But I well, you know... abandoned it when I met Y/N."

"Frenchie's gonna be heartbroken he missed this."

Hughie nervously shifts his weight from one foot to the other, while he looks at the huge house in front of them: "There are a lot of people in there." Y/N turns to glance at him:" As long as they stay out of our way, they'll be fine."

---

"I said, no cameras in the toilets, Tommy!", Tessa declares angrily while she makes her way towards the TV. "Give it back."

"You're pathetic."

Y/N who is standing a few meters away watches the two. She opens her mouth to say something but gets interrupted when some random guy accidentally bumps into her. A little cry escapes his lips followed by horny laughter:" Gosh, you're as hot as you look." She turns to stare at him and her eyes shine bright green for a moment. Luckily for him, her attention is once again on the siblings when she senses their eyes on her form.

"Y/N?", Tommy asks and squints his eyes, unsure if the woman in front of him is truly their old colleague. "Holy shit!", Tessa answers and slowly walks up to her:" It's so good to see you."

But her smile quickly fades away when Y/N doesn't react. "Is everything all right, my dear?", the chuckle that leaves her lips is beyond worried, while Y/N's stare is not getting any softer.

"Is this about the photos?", Tommy who stands a couple of meters away from the two women lets out a weak breath and his sister turns around. She tilts her head, while she stares at him in confusion: "W- What photos?"

"Yeah, Tommy.", Y/N asks, while a fake smile emerges on her lips. She nudges the brown-haired woman to the side, before unhurriedly making her way towards him: "What photos?"

"W-We were beyond broke.", he begins, while stumbling backwards: "You have to understand the situation we were in!" Y/N lets out high-pitched laughter, while her steps are slowly getting faster.

"Gosh, Tommy.", he hears Tessa mumble: "What did you do?"

"Yeah.", Y/N hisses through gritted teeth:" What the fuck did you do?!" She snatches him by the shoulders and throws him to the ground, a groan escapes him when his body makes contact with the hardwood floor. Tessa instantly rushes towards him, but when Y/N puts her foot on his chest she takes a step back. "Tell her, Tommy.", Y/N starts to put pressure on him, to the point where she can listen to how his bones crack.

"Okay, okay, okay. I sold the nudes.", he confesses:" I sold them to the media four years ago." Tessa's hand flies up to cover her mouth in panic:" Oh god."

They were the reason why Y/N's and Soldier boy's relationship became public in the first place. "They were all over the news!", Y/N tells loudly, while she pulls her foot away. She leans down:" I should have come here the day those pictures were leaked. I am going to burn your skin...the way those Russians tried to burn Ben's."

As soon as that name leaves her lips his eyes widen, and he peeks towards his sister. "Did you say B-Ben?", Tessa asks: "As- As in Soldier Boy?"

Y/N nods:" Daddy's home."

#angst #x reader #imagine #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #homelander #homelander x reader #the boys imagine #the boys x reader #billy butcher #hughie campbell #soldier boy fic #the boys s3

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deliciouskeys · 7 months

Text

Kink of your choice: people of diametrically opposing ideologies having a tense conversation but not killing each other

#Lockhimup

Warnings: Gen. And just kidding, this isn't really for Kinktober. It's even more self-indulgent than that. Set shortly post S3. It's not a pairing fic. It's Homelander; Billy Butcher. Dedicated to the 1.3 people other than me who might possibly enjoy this. AO3 link.

After the hospital, Butcher's been staying at home to recover from his nausea and illness. His brain might not be getting better, but his body was slowly recovering-- not throwing up nearly as often anymore, and able to get food down and walk around more or less steadily.

But his brain was definitely deteriorating. He was having very vivid dreams, and auditory and visual hallucinations were cropping up more and more often. Maybe this is the reason he didn't rush over to the balcony when he saw Homelander out there. He figured he must be seeing things again until the cunt approached the glass and tapped on it gently before stepping back and putting his arms behind his body, waiting patiently for Butcher to unlatch it.

Butcher sighs heavily and opens the glass door, but doesn't bother to come out or officially beckon him in. He sits down in the chair, just in case he starts feeling sick and woozy again. He's already feeling lightheaded from the unpleasant surprise. Homelander makes his way in, thoughtfully closing the door behind him.

“What brings you here this time. You’ve already got Ryan. Come to finish me off?”

Homelander frowns. “Why are you so obsessed with this idea that I’d come here, uninvited, and kill you in your usual pathetic mudperson state? And sick with some kind of pathetic chronic illness on top of that." Homelander wrinkles his nose. He can probably see the damage through Butcher's skull, or maybe his nose is actually detecting the scent of his illness. "Have you ever seen me stalk and kill someone?”

“I haven’t seen you, but I’m sure you have. You had no problem trying to kill Hughie down in the tunnels.”

“That was–” Homelander rolls his eyes and waves his hand dismissively. “Hugh Campbell’s a non-entity to me. And you were all fugitives from the law at the time. So yes, I have pursued and killed lawbreakers.”

“And I happen not to be one at this moment? Didn’t know you were such a stickler for the law.” Butcher lights a cigarette, hoping it will annoy Homelander. “You still haven’t answered my question. To what do I owe the pleasure of this divine visitation?”

Homelander makes that strange snuffling sound that Butcher recognizes by now as pure unadulterated frustration. He makes a movement to pull out the chair where he sat last time, but Butcher hooks his foot and pulls it in tight against the table.

“Really?” Homelander looks at him impassively. “You let me sit down last time.”

“Last time you were trying to find Ryan. You have him. So I don’t see what you need here if you ain’t gonna blast me in the head.”

“Feels bad, huh? Well now you know how it feels, to have your child out of reach,” Homelander says, and shoves a bunch of Butcher’s kitchen paraphernalia further down the counter and makes room for himself to float up and sit on it, first moving the cape out of the way as always. Butcher hopes his counter is dirty and this cunt gets stains on his ass for doing this. “No, I’m just sick of Vought trying to manage this ‘crisis’ for me.”

“You mean you killing a bloke in plain daylight on camera? That 'crisis'?”

“Yes, if that’s how you want to describe it, yes.”

“That’s what happened, it’s not some subjective description.”

Homelander’s jaw tightens and grinds for a moment before he speaks. “Yeah. I’m alright with that. What I’m not alright with is doing an apology tour and saying it was inadvertent or whatever the fuck Vought wants me to say to “soften the angle”. They’re idiots if they think either side is going to buy that. The people who like me don’t want to hear me tying myself into knots trying to explain away what I did. And the toxic idiots who hate me aren’t going to suddenly change their minds if I say ‘hey I’m so sorry! I totally didn’t mean to kill that child-attacking shitstain! I don’t have any fucking control over my lasers! Please don’t hate me!’ I mean if- if that were the case, then I should be fucking locked up, because I’d be a menace to society. If I have that little control over my powers.”

Homelander pauses in his tirade. It grew louder in volume and faster in delivery as it went. Butcher has to admit it’s fun to see this cunt lose his mind with anger, when he’s always been curated to look forever happy and imperturbable. Although the mask has been slipping more often of late.

“You are a menace to society. But yeah, not so much into locking you up. I’d be much more at peace seeing your head on a pike.”

Homelander chuckles. “And you call me needlessly violent."

"Vought's probably thinking ahead about the lawsuit, and not your popularity. Maybe you should listen to your handlers."

"I don't have handlers, I have idiotic underlings. And you're talking as if popularity with the public has nothing to do with how a lawsuit will pan out. From where I'm standing, it's better to have a group of strong supporters than a mass of people confused by some milquetoast, apologetic statements from me. But you know what? Fine. I’m used to the fickle idiot public, with their fucking short-term memory, not remembering everything I've done for them, and still doing for them. They can hate me, their loss. But you see the shit trending today? It's not just #lockhimup. It's #ASAB and #FuckVought and #CompoundViolent, and even the ever-lovely #KillAllSupes cropping up periodically. That's why Vought wants me to backtrack. As if that will do anything to stop those kinds of hasthtags.”

“Don’t know why you’re whinging to me about it. I’d be retweeting all of that if I had an account.” Butcher gets up off his chair and walks past Homelander to fill his teakettle with water, because this is turning out to be a longer conversation than he expected. He still doesn't turn on the light in the kitchen, only one lone lamp on in his entire apartment in an effort to avoid any migraines. Homelander just swivels himself around to face Butcher in his new spot.

“You know what’s better about you than those mindless parrot drones all over social media? At least you say what you mean to say. You really want to kill us all apparently. That apply to Ryan by the way?”

“He’s a child, so no.”

“But when he turns eighteen? Or whatever the fuck age you British people consider majority? Then he’s fair game?”

Butcher feels his irritation rising. “He’s Becca’s son, so no, I’m not gonna lay a finger on him.”

“Other supes are people’s sons and daughters too, but that doesn’t seem to deter you.”

“Hell no it doesn’t. Sons and daughters of people who doped up their kids with Compound V to try to make a buck or get some glory? Off the parents too, if you ask me.”

“Ah interesting! So you do think the people who made the choices are worse than the people who had none.”

“Every one of you supes has plenty of choices.”

“At what age would you kill someone like me?”

Butcher sighs. Vogelbaum’s words flash in his memory. He asked about what Homelander was like in childhood because he wanted to know if Ryan was genetically doomed to be an evil cunt. Homelander probably doesn’t realize Butcher knows about his sordid lab-confined childhood. He’s throwing this question out flippantly. Butcher thinks about making some stinging remark to show just how much he knows. But that will only lead to him having to acknowledge that he wouldn't have killed off an innocent baby labrat. Butcher also thinks about not answering at all, but Homelander is sitting there silently, ugly red boots dangling above the floor, raising his eyebrows to show he’s expecting an actual response to his stupid question.

“At whatever age you were when you decided to rape my Becca.”

“So… this is purely personal then?”

“Of course it’s fucking personal,” Butcher mutters, not liking how much this cunt is forcing him to think this late at night. “What else could it be, at this point?”

“Wanting to kill off a whole big group of people over a personal matter seems kind of petty to me.”

“You’re not people. You don’t treat us like equals, so we don’t need to treat you like equals either.”

“So normal human morality doesn’t apply.” Homelander grins. “That’s what I like about you, William. You stand by your words, no matter how vile they are. When you say ‘supe genocide’, at least you really mean it.”

Homelander peers at him, looking unimpressed. "Your brain looks like Swiss cheese and you still make more sense than everyone else I'm forced to talk to. But I do wonder: you're kind of an honorary supe now. Certainly spent some time in our shoes. Do you deserve death too?"

"I'll take an honorary suicide once you're all gone, if you want me to be consistent."

Homelander smirks. The kettle starts whistling, and Butcher takes the opportunity to avoid saying anything else and focusing on steeping a cup of tea.

“Can I have a cup?”

Butcher seethes inside. Get your ass off my counter, get your shiteating grin out of my house. But he proceeds to just brew another cup, because it’s easier than having this conversation. His degenerating brain can't take much more of this.

They wait for the tea to steep in silence. Welcome as it seemed at first, Butcher finds himself wanting to break the silence because when Homelander’s not talking, and Butcher stares at him in the darkness of the apartment, teeth shinier than the rest of his face, he starts to seem increasingly otherworldly, scarier, like there really is a different species perched on the kitchen counter, and Butcher starts to feel his fight-or-flight response kicking in. “Didn’t take you for a tea drinker,” he says, as he hands him the cup. At least his hands are rock-steady, and his tone sounds nonchalant as ever.

“I’m not. But I wanted to see what all the hype is about, at least in the UK. You guys are obsessed.”

“‘You guys’ were too until you got radicalized and decided you didn’t want to pay taxes on it.”

Homelander’s smile just grows wider. “That’s true.” He sips and makes a face. “Wow, that’s… strong. That’s almost as bad as coffee.”

“You really never had tea before?” Butcher can’t help but ask, incredulous at the reaction.

“I don’t think so. This tastes like bitter puddle water or something.”

“No one’s forcing you to drink it, cunt.”

Homelander takes another sip anyway, making a face again, actually shuddering. “Don’t people add milk to it? And sugar? Am I making that up?”

“You can,” Butcher says, shrugging. Then notices Homelander glancing at his fridge to verify there's milk inside and looking back at him expectantly. “Unbelievable. Alright you little candy-ass, would you like some milk and sugar with your unbearably bitter tea?”

“I would,” Homelander answers, disregarding the insult, holding the cup out in front of him expecting to be served.

Butcher takes it from him, in disbelief at what he’s doing, but again, it feels futile to refuse or argue. He dumps in more milk than he ever would for himself. Maybe this git wants a lukewarm, tasteless cuppa.

When Homelander drinks the modified version, he nods. “Much better, actually. Thanks.”

“Why did you come here, really,” Butcher asks as he finally gets to drink his tea, leaning back against the counter across from the one Homelander is perched on.

“No ulterior motive. Needed to vent. I feel like I’m taking crazy pills when I’m in the Tower and they keep telling me I need to appease the other side. Talking to you cements it for me. People who hate me aren’t going to come around. People who’ve decided to blanket-hate all supes won’t come around.”

“So you done? Feel better now?”

“I do, actually. Thanks for the company.” Homelander smiles, puts down his cup of bastardized tea, not having the courtesy to finish it off, hops down off the counter and walks off towards the balcony to take off with an obnoxious force that Butcher's glad didn't crack the balcony cement at push-off.

He stares at the skyline visible from his apartment. He hates a thought that has been creeping in during the conversation, and now that the supe is gone, he can contemplate it fully. For what it’s worth, he might have done the same exact thing. He knows what having heat lasers is like. How easy it is to power them up. If someone threw something at Becca, or, yes maybe even just Becca’s son, he might have done the same exact stupid thing and sliced the man's head. Why on earth is he thinking about that? Maybe it’s his strange irritation at the public finally, finally after so many fucking years, finally noticing that there is something fucked up about Vought. He should be happy that some people finally see the truth. But it feels like too little too late, and it also feels like they might get distracted off of it. They don't really understand how far it goes. Vought wouldn’t exist without the money these crowds of people have paid them. It’s not funded by the government. It’s not beholden to anyone but American public opinion. The very people tweeting angrily about Homelander’s public murder are still subscribed to Vought+, and still using Vought-owned social media to complain about it. This monstrosity grown in the lab was grown for them. For their protection, at least internationally speaking, and most importantly for their entertainment and cult-seeking mentality. Homelander is the hero they voted for with their dollars, and they’ve maybe only just wised up to the fact that what they’ve been paying for is a mentally unstable killing machine.

#gen??? from me??#homelander #billy butcher #social media rot #vought #the boys #the boys tv #mystuff #fic

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phoenixtakaramono · 10 months

Note

The Boys - 2 or 9

From the 🔥Choose Violence Ask Game🔥

Hullo, hullo, Anon! Apologies for taking so long. I don’t mind answering both. (*´∇｀*)

9) Worst part of The Boys canon

CW warning in this paragraph, but I despise The Deep for SA-ing Starlight (Annie January) and I despise *Homelander (John Gillman) for SA-ing William “Billy” Butcher’s wife, Rebecca Saunders. I have to put an asterisk next to HL though because it depends if Kripke decides to make TV canon follow comic canon where it turns out the “Homelander” who had SA-ed Butcher’s wife was actually Black Noir aka Homelander’s clone. I mean, I get why they went with the women getting s*xually assaulted (shock value, and to show that even superheroes in high positions can abuse their power) and they were able to make me discomforted which means they were successful at getting me to feel sympathetic for the victims and dislike Deep and HL (I’m neutral to Deep tbh but because of S1E1 I can never stan Deep on principle…but I get why there are people who thirst after his character; he’s the comic relief side character who’s amusingly pathetic and the actor who plays him is conventionally attractive).

Ironically though Homelander is a fun character to write as a milk-obsessed psychotic narcissistic sl*tty manchild who needs to be spanked (*coughs delicately* bullied *coughs*). So knowing comic canon, coupled with a writer and reader bias, has softened my stance on HL. He’s not quite my homicidal babygirl that I will defend to the grave, but I do have a soft spot for fictional crazy yanderes.

Another part of canon I’d say I don’t like is…we all know the pain that is awaiting us at the finale. It ain’t a happy story. It’s a Shakespearean tragedy—with the anti-capitalist commentary on the establishment/ system in place being the true enemy. It’s gonna be the whole Plato’s Cave Allegory.

And only Hughie (and Annie?) is going to be the survivors in the end. Yaadaa yaadaa about how power corrupts. How Hughie was the only one who broke from the cycle of revenge (notice how his fiery motivation to avenge Robin seems to be dwindling with each episode?), and how he’s going to use this as a learning experience to not follow in Butcher’s footsteps.

Watch. It’s my show prediction. But you can’t tell me it isn’t very likely the show won’t go in this direction. I’m anticipating a bittersweet show finale (personally I’d make Ryan perish towards the end so it can serve as the straw that broke the camel’s back and make Homelander go off the deep end):

But it’s very possible Kripke chickens out from the absolutely devastating annihilation of all The Boys main cast (save H+A) and preserves Ryan’s life in the end as an emotional send-off for Hughie and Annie to raise (because it also presents an opportunity for the writers to tug at our emotional heartstrings by making a S2 callback to Billy’s promise to Becca to protect her son; he protects Becca’s son from Homelander and from himself, leaving Ryan in the hands of the people who Billy can trust to take care of him in his stead and to give the boy the life that he deserves which Billy cannot provide for him). It all very much depends on the writer’s intent—and which option that the showrunners will think can make the largest impact.

2) A compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

Ah, see, this is a wee complicated because if I’m being honest, my fave is, unsurprisingly, Kimiko. (*coughs* Asian solidarity *coughs* if you do Asian representation right and I like the character, I will automatically like the Japanese or Chinese character in your show.) And between her and Frenchie…let’s just say Kimiko is the one who pegs in the bedroom.

(You cannot tell me, looking at this photo of her, that you cannot see her Top energy. She might be a total sweetheart, cute and petite and lovable, but she can benchpress Frenchie to kingdom come and back—and he’d love it.)

But I know that’s not what you come here for. You’re here for:

Homelander (my favorite psychopath to write about—and why I think he’s a pretty Bottom Pillow Princess):

…Do I even need a compelling argument? Mind you, I can see him topping (it’s instinctual)—but this be a man who we saw bossed around by Madelyn and Stormfront during their “bedroom activities.” Indulge him, stroke his ego, coddle him, treat him like a precious precious handsome boy, give him the unconditional love and human connection that he so desires—and he’s putty in your hands. Face it; he’s got the Bottom energy. Tired of the constant missionary s*x and want to spice things up in the bedroom? Curious about, I’dunno, BDSM? Homelander might hesitate at first, worrying about his super strength and the possibility of breaking you, but he’ll pretty soon be all for it once you get him hot and bothered. Want to be adventurous and suggest he take a d*ildo or strap-on or finger up to the prostate while you suck him off? *claps hands* It’s electric boogaloo time. This is the type of guy who probably destresses from his daily hero work and the pressure of being the face of Vought (and all the expectations that come with) by wanting to be pampered, petted, kissed, etc on his down time—and he’ll go down on his knees to eat you out or suck you off. It’s safer, you see, with your hands tangled in his hair, guiding his every move and being vocal with your wants and taking the control out of his hands—and he takes pleasure retreating into his little headspace with the knowledge that he’s making you feel good. He feels good. And you’ll reward him later for that, even if it’s a crazy idea like f*cking in the sky floating above the Empire State Building when it’s lights out or getting him off hidden out of view while he’s having a Zoom call with Ashley and Vought’s board of directors.

He’s the type of guy I can see, after a mindblowing org*sm, enjoying the aftercare that comes after.

Butcher (my favorite kind of Male Lead to write—and why I think he’s an absolute Top):

…You’re telling me, this 6'1" muscular guy who has SAS and Royal Marines and CIA field operative experience and duked it out with Homelander whilst on Temp-V, does not top? Excuse me, have you seen this GIF? Have you seen this episode? (Have you ever heard of a honeypot or honey trap operation? I bring it into my fics; it’s a genuine seduction tactic that a CIA officer may employ.)

Nuff said.

Plus, he’s the defacto leader of his ragtag motley crew of crooks, terrorists, Supes, and Hughie. He bosses them around—and they listen. You cannot tell me that bossiness doesn’t translate into the bedroom. For him to bottom, he’d lift his brows at you, smirk a little over the rim of the glass in his hand, and say he’ll think about it—provided you give him a little striptease show, darling. And maybe, just maybe, he might just give it a shot. And you’re flustered, face red and heart pounding, because he’s f*cked you within an inch of your life and your panties are hanging off your ankle, clothes disheveled, with his calloused fingers pressing deliciously against your thighs.

I can see him bottoming as a Special Occasion (anything for his babygirl who’s been good), but he’s Daddy. He’s Service Top vibes.

#billy butcher #homelander #the boys tv #the boys amazon #the boys #anon #ask #choose violence ask game #phoenix talks #ty for the ask anon!

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jaskierx · 1 year

Note

for the domestic prompts: how about 11 and Butchie (I'm sure nothing could go wrong if Hughie tries to make Butcher tea)

you're so right. what could possibly go wrong

i spent way too long on this and it got out of hand but never mind

now on ao3!

–––

'You want me to get you anything? Something to eat?'

Butcher begins to shake his head, wincing as the movement causes pain to flare behind his eyes. 'Nah. Not hungry. Could fucking murder a cuppa, though.'

Hughie tenses. 'A cup of…tea?'

It's been months since he last made tea for Butcher. Usually Butcher is in charge of hot beverages, tea for himself and coffee for Hughie, made each morning in matching mugs.

Hughie hasn't been trusted to make tea since The Incident.

Surely Butcher hasn't forgotten about The Incident.

If he has, the head injury he sustained in the fight must be worse than previously thought.

Butcher stares at him. 'Yeah. That a problem?'

Hughie can hear his blood rushing in his ears.

'No.' he says, failing to even convince himself. 'No, of course, I'll be right back.'

His heart shouldn't be racing this fast. He shouldn't have a dry mouth, or a sickly feeling in his stomach. Making a cup of tea is very easy and objectively less stressful than pretty much everything Hughie does as part of his day job (if you can call general vigilante crime and espionage a 'day job').

But he thought that last time, and look how that ended up.

This has to be different.

With a deep breath, he selects Butcher's favourite mug and gets to work.

–––

Hughie's already left the room by the time Butcher realises what he's done.

Fuck.

Hughie is very good at a great many things. Unfortunately, making a cup of tea that's fit for human consumption is not one of them.

They'd discovered this a long time ago, when they hadn't been together for very long. Hughie had concocted something that Butcher would later describe as an 'abomination unto the lord', a diabolical monstrosity consisting of too much milk and sugar and too little tea and an odd taste of lemon for some reason, microwaved to tepidity and presented to Butcher in earnest. He'd known from the start that it was not a cuppa to be trusted, altogether too pale and lukewarm, but he'd decided to give Hughie the benefit of the doubt. And he'd lived to regret it.

He'd never admit it to Hughie, but it's the only time he's ever seriously considered ending their relationship.

He's made his own tea ever since.

–––

The cup that Hughie passes him when he walks back into the room is hot to touch, slightly damp from where Hughie's shaking hands have caused a few drops of the tea inside to spill over the edge. That in itself is a promising sign, especially combined with the fact that Butcher can't remember hearing the telltale ping of the microwave.

Additionally, the tea actually looks like tea is supposed to, the rich brown colour worlds away from the pathetic shade of light beige that is burned into his memory from last time. Perhaps it's just an oncoming concussion, but he's actually starting to feel a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this won't be as bad as he's been expecting.

He braces himself and raises the mug to his lips.

Instantly, it's as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He swallows the sip of tea and breathes a sigh of relief.

It tastes like a completely mediocre cup of tea.

It's a bit too sweet, a little under-brewed, clearly made using a teabag that's seen a few seasons – but it's drinkable, and that's such a relief that Butcher wants to cry.

–––

Hughie's been holding his breath ever since he began walking back from the kitchen, and he's beginning to feel lightheaded. He exhales, breath shuddering, and winces as Butcher takes the first sip from the mug.

'I'm sorry, I did everything you said after last time, I swear, I used the kettle, I put the milk in last, I set a timer on my phone while I was stirring, I didn't let the spoon touch the sides, I'm just cursed, I've got a fucking tea curse, every tea I touch turns to shit–'

'Hughie.' Butcher cuts him off, his voice soft. 'There is nothing wrong with this cup of tea. It tastes fine.'

Realistically, it's the highest praise Butcher could've possibly bestowed. Positive enough that Hughie can rest assured that he hasn't caused a repeat of The Incident. Negative enough that Hughie believes him, instead of becoming more concerned about the head injury.

Fuck first dates and first times and moving in together. Turns out the real important relationship milestone is successfully making a cup of tea for your partner without being accused of attempting to poison them.

The bar is low, but Hughie has narrowly avoided limboing under it, and for that he's allowed to be proud of himself.

#asks #hughiepvssy #the boys #the boys fic #butchie #billy butcher #hughie campbell #lyse.jpg

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doll3tt33 · 3 days

Note

1 month till the new The Boys season starts coming out.

Have a yandere headcanon for celebration. 🤲

Yandere Hughie uses his pathetic meow meow powers to his advantage. He'll purposefully play up his fear and anxiety to lure the reader in. Reader just wants to help him. He seems so sad. Yandere Hughie clings onto you where ever you go.

Yandere Butcher nearly beats the boy senseless when he does this. However, you are the only thing that holds him back. He doesn't want to fuck up whatever relationship he has with you. People can tell that he is softer around you. A kind of softness people only saw in him when Becca was around.

The two are bickering even more than they did before. They have a lot of trouble sharing. Hughie wants to keep you safe from how Butcher is.... Butcher. Billy wants to keep you safe from Hughie's weakness. He doesn't need his doll getting killed because the kid decided to puss out again. (Billy's words, not mine.)

If yandere Annie got caught in the mix? 😶 She is keeping you safe from both of those idiots. She'll be like a super normal girlfriend who just kills people behind your back. She's open to being in a relationship with both you and Hughie at the same time. Butcher getting near you? Nuh the fuck uh.

Yandere Frenchie and Kimiko work together against all the others. Kimiko had such a hard time learning to trust Frenchie, but not you. Both always team up with you on missions. Frenchie helps to teach both you and Kimiko how to bake. To simply their yandere-ness— Frenchie is the overprotective boyfriend and Kimiko is the possessive girlfriend. Goddesses help whoever lays a hand on you. They either get a bomb up their ass or their neck snapped.

MM I feel would be the only non-yandere in this situation. He's the mediator who does his best to keep you safe.

If yandere Soldier Boy is there? Every yandere in The Boys agrees that you have to be protected from him. He's not shy about demeaning or crudely flirting with you. His stance on your boundaries... non-existent. Sooooooo yandere Soldier Boy is gonna have to work 4x time to get even a crumb of your affection. He could just try to kill everyone—but he suspects you might hate him for that.

+ Bonus: Yandere Homelander

This largely depends on if he knew you as a citizen, or after you became a part of The Boys. Either way, this mommy's boy will do anything for you. He realizes that your group is gonna try to use that against him. So it kind of becomes a back and forth where Homelander kidnaps you and plays house—and then The Boys get you back safely in their arms. Homelander has this genius idea that if he puts a baby in you, you'll belong to him forever. He would hate you having a baby... because it takes away attention from him. So he'd probably just give the baby away or 'accidentally' kill it after it's born. He is one fucked up man with issues that couldn't be solved by the most renowned psychiatrist.

OMGWHWJJW IM BACK AND I SEE THIS IN MY INBOX

Off the bat, I see the words ‘Hughie’ and ‘pathetic meow meow powers’, and I already know it’s gonna be some quality content right there!! 😭🙏

I also very much agree he’ll lure the reader in by making them want to ‘fix him’ - the nice guy™️ who has been wronged one too many times. He’ll probably be the most soggy pathetic yandere ever but yk, that’s the beauty of it 🤌

AND BUTCHERRRR. I agree with everything, especially the part where there’s a type of vulnerability that only Becca is accessible to, but instead of her now it’s reader. In a way, I feel like we can already see so much of that from the show, to the point I’d say we even witnessed what he looks like when he’s utterly obsessed with someone?? ((I know one can debate that he’s simply just in love, but mans was causing collateral damage left and right because of one. single. woman.

Anyways, back on topic, but I love how the girls are fighting over reader!! As if those two don’t already have enough to fight about in the first place 😂

I gotta say tho, this part: “He doesn't need his doll getting killed because the kid decided to puss out again.” That is peak characterization! Something Butcher and Hughie would argue about for the life of them.

As for Annie!! Definitely with you on the ‘normal gf on the surface while killing more than she actually should behind the scenes’, but I feel like she’d rationalize it, because we know how empathetic she is and how she feels about senseless violence. She’ll try to come up with a reason to justify her actions and even gaslight herself into believing them to minimize the guilt.

For Frenchie and Kimiko, I LOVE this dynamic. I’d add that because Kimiko is the possessive gf, she’ll even out-yandere Frenchie?? For the reason being she’s a supe and wouldn’t hesitate to decapitate him if it came to that. At the same time tho, Frenchie, like you said, would be overprotective, even putting his life out on the line for reader (cuz have we seen how impulsive this mf can be? 🤦‍♀️). However, he just wouldn’t “win” the competition when it comes to reader if that makes sense?

AND YES MM WOULD NOT BE A YANDERE, BIG AGREE. As strict and assertive as he can be, he’d be respectful of boundaries. Just like how it was described in the show: he has a moral compass like Hughie, but is courageous like Butcher. Simply put, MM is a chill guy.

With soldier boy, YES TO EVERYTHING. But I wanna add that personally I think it’ll be a bit tricky for reader to even realize his obsession with them at the beginning. It’s like, wait- is he sniffing my unwashed socks rn or is he just being Solider Boy?… 😳

when it comes to a certain time and place, reader will catch a glimpse of his not-so-ordinary fixation he has with them ((tho emphasis on time and place, since idk maybe it’s just me but he’s alr a lil freaky in general

and my favorite, HOMELANDER AS A YANDERE WJKWWKWK. I love how plausible all of this is, cuz we already seen his behavior with Stillwell and hints of it with Maeve (not sure about Stormfront. Maybe not so much since they were in their honeymoon phase?)

But yeah, it’s so Homelander to get someone pregnant, only to probably laser the baby into smithereens when the man-child within him feels particularly “unnoticed” one certain day

it’s okay tho cuz he’s just a (42 year old) boy with a deeply wounded inner-child/j 😢😢

#no idea why I wrote this much help-#thank you for coming to my ted talk #best moots eva bitchesss <3 #homelander #the boys

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 2 years

Text

Let Me See Inside Ch. 3

Series Summary: Can Rae help Ben save himself, by finding his true self?

Chapter Summary: Rae and Ben meet again and this time Rae connects with him, but can she make him listen?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Some objectification of women, an attempt at intimidation, one use of a derogatory term for a lesbian, some cursing, show level violence. A bit more twisty brain shit. 😁

Pairings: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Rae Stewart (OFC)

Word Count: 4,073

A/N: Again I apologize for the wait for this update. I hope you feel it was worth it, and I'm hoping my muse will not desert me again too quickly! Spoilers for The Boys S3 E8.

Both the beautiful text dividers here and below were created by @firefly-graphicscs

Masterlist || Tag Lists

Ben leaned on the bridge rail and stared out over the river. Was this the Hudson? He couldn't remember, and it didn't matter. He wasn't really seeing the rippling water; all he could see was the bland, blonde, preening, weepy, pathetic grown man that was, apparently, his son.

When he'd first seen Homelander in pictures and billboards he just shook his head, completely bowled over that this tool, with his blue leotard and fucking flag cape, was what passed for a super-hero nowadays. Talk about sending the country to hell in a handbasket.

But he'd simply dismissed him. That is, until Butcher and little Hughie Campbell struck up their deal with him. Their showdown at Herogasm, had surprised him; the flying jackass was more powerful than he'd expected.

But between the three of them, they'd had him, and if he hadn't just used all his juice icing the fucking wonder twins, he could have scorched him and taken him out right then.

But the little prick had gotten away, and lived to fight another day. But Ben had known it was inevitable that he'd take out the flying Supe. He'd never failed to complete a mission, no matter what it was.

But then...

Fucking Mindstorm. At first, he was sure the psychic was lying to him, just trying to fuck with his head. But the more he'd contemplated it, the more he came to believe it was true. It made sense. Everything fit - the timing, Vought's reasoning and why they'd thrown him to the Reds.

The surprisingly powerful Supe in blue tights was his son.

Or if I listen to Butcher, all he is, is an ejaculation.

Part of him agreed with the Brit, no way this weeping mass of self-pity and pathetic neediness was his fucking son. He would never allow a son of his to be that much of a pussy and a loser.

But at the same time, biologically speaking, he was in fact his son, which would mean he had family in the world. Was he just going to kill the fucker?

He'd meant what he said to him on the phone the other day, if Vought hadn't lied to him and sent him off to be tortured, he would have been proud to see his son become a badass super hero alongside him. They could have fought together and been unstoppable.

But that wasn't what happened, and now his son was a man that he'd promised to kill.

He was unsure of what to do, and he absolutely hated uncertainty. So, he'd told Butcher he needed to get some air, and he'd been wandering around ever since.

He pulled a joint from the pocket in his left sleeve and lit it up, hoping the reefer would calm him enough to make an answer come clear.

As he inhaled deeply, a voice spoke from just behind him.

"Hi Ben."

He was startled and the smoke he inhaled got sucked down wrong, and he started coughing hard.

"Sorry!" The voice spoke again and he spun around to see a woman standing slightly behind him to the left. She was holding up her hands as though she was surrendering.

"I'm so sorry." She said as she walked up beside him. "Didn't mean to scare you."

Ben gave her his most ferocious look. "You didn't scare me, sweetheart."

She nodded. "Of course not."

A tiny piece of weed had escaped the rolled joint to sit on the tip of his tongue and Ben removed it with his thumb and forefinger.

He didn't miss the way the woman's eyes darted to his mouth and then quickly away. Or the way her cheeks flushed.

She was sexy as hell, he had to admit that. She had his favorite kind of figure. She was an hourglass, round and thick, soft.

She was maybe a little thicker through the middle than he'd prefer, but her thighs were full and soft in her jeans, and her hips were wide. He wanted to grab hold of that plump ass and squeeze hard while he crushed her up against a wall.

As though she could read his mind, her face was bright red as she spoke again.

"My name is Rae Stewart and I need to talk to you."

He frowned slightly and took another drag from the joint, holding it in his lungs for a moment before letting it escape slowly. She waved the smoke away from her face.

"That name's familiar." Ben stated. "Do I know you?"

She bit into her lip. "In a manner of speaking."

Waiting for her to elaborate, he took another drag, and this time blew the smoke away from her. He could be a gentleman if he wanted.

"So," she sighed deeply and Ben had the feeling she was worried. "Okay, so this isn't really happening right now. We aren't really standing here together on this bridge and you aren't really smoking that joint."

Ben raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He shook his head and chuckled. "No, clearly YOU are smoking something a lot more fun! Got some to share?" He asked with a deep grin. The reefer was working its magic and everything was taking on a soft kind of glow.

Rae shook her head. "No, I mean that your consciousness is currently residing here, but this is just a memory - a memory from the night that you...went up against Homelander. You think you're here trying to decide if you have it in you to fight and kill your own son, but you made that decision a couple months ago now. You went through with your promise to Butcher."

Ben could practically feel the effects of the weed disappearing as his senses sharpened. He pulled his sidearm from its holster.

Rae held her hands up high again. "No, please don't shoot. Please don't kill me again."

Ben stared at her darkly. "What do you mean, again? Who the fuck are you, woman?"

"I'm just here as a projection in your mind and you've killed that projection many, many times before. But I really, really need you to listen to me. There is so much riding on this. Not the least of which is getting you..."

She stopped abruptly and Ben walked closer to her, forcing her back against the bridge rail. He placed the muzzle of his gun against her heart.

"Getting me to what? Exactly what are you here for? You're telling me you're in my head, fucking around with it, and you don't expect me to shoot you right here and now?"

"Actually, I kind of did expect it. But the fact that you haven't yet gives me reason to hope, that and the fact that my name is starting to be familiar to you."

Ben cocked his gun and Rae started sputtering again. "Okay, okay. I'm gonna tell you the god's honest truth about what's going on. Please believe me. I swear I'm only here to help you."

At his continued silence she swallowed hard and started speaking very fast.

"So, you went up against Homelander, but everything went sideways and you ended up fighting Billy Butcher and...Marvin Milk. And Starlight. They, um...they got the mask on you but..."

Rae stopped talking as flashes lit up the night sky like fireworks. Ben dropped his gun from her chest and stepped back. Images rocketed into the air, and he squinted up at them, they were almost too bright for him to look at.

But every image brought back the memory, vivid and undeniable: throwing Butcher into a desk, about to crush his skull with his shield; the extreme heat coming off the rays Butcher burned into his shield; his shield shattering into pieces.

As he stood on the bridge, he looked down at the shield he held, and it was suddenly nothing more than a jagged piece of metal. He dropped it to the ground and it landed soundlessly and disappeared.

When he looked back into the sky he already knew what he was going to see, could practically taste the poison in his mouth as the the two girl Supes and the giant fucking guy who'd smashed his shield to bits, held him in place and tried to shove the mask over his mouth. He heard his panicked voice echo in his head.

"I'm not going back into that fucking box!"

He saw his chest begin to glow and then the light show above him stopped abruptly. The sky over the bridge was dark so suddenly that Ben had to blink rapidly to clear away the spots in front of his eyes.

Silence reigned in the darkness for a moment before Ben spoke. "I went nuclear and they put me back in that...I'm back in that box right now, aren't I?" He hated how weak his voice sounded, how whiny; he hated that he could hear hints of fear in his tone, and knew she probably could too.

But he couldn't help it. The idea of being back in the box, of only being pulled out so he could be experimented on again, of decades passing in nothing but nightmares and memories full of regret...it filled him with dread, even in the annals of his own mind.

Rae nodded slowly. "Yes. Sort of. You're in the hands of the American government now, not the Russians. You're under the care of Lieutenant Colonel Grace Mallory." She shrugged. "And me."

She stepped closer to him, and he flinched back a step.

Jesus Christ! He screamed at himself. Who's being a pussy now? You're running away from some broad? For fuck's sake.

Rae held up her hands. "I swear Ben, we're only hear to help you. We want to be able to wake you up, we want you to be well. And you have my word, that absolutely no experimenting will be done on you."

Ben snorted in disbelief. "Right. And just who are you, exactly, to promise something like that? What authority do you have? I promise YOU that if the government, or Vought, wants to do something to me they'll run right over you to do it, little girl."

He didn't miss the flicker of annoyance on her face and he chased that annoyance, allowing his pleasure in provoking her to take over the fear that still clouded his mind.

"I mean, you said Grace Mallory is in charge? Well, fuck, that dyke has hated me for a very long time. I'm pretty sure she's not anxious to see me awake."

He watched a muscle twitch in her jaw as she gritted her teeth and knew he'd scored a point.

She nodded. "No, you're right, she doesn't like you. In fact a LOT of people don't like you. With good reason."

Ben rolled his eyes. "Yes, a fact that leaves me heartbroken, what can I say?"

Rae continued as though he hadn't spoken. "You are a misogynistic, racist, homophobic, antiquated asshole. You're ideas are half a century out of date, if not longer. You say hateful things to get a rise out of people, you're selfish, and egotistical, and a complete fraud in ninety percent of what you purport yourself to be."

Ben arched a brow, impressed in spite of himself. His ego didn't like the beating, but he found himself intrigued by the fire in her belly.

"Huh. Tell me what you really think, sweet thing." He gave her his best rakish grin, but her steely expression wouldn't relax. He shrugged. "Is there a point to your insults?"

"I like you."

There was a pause while she let her words sink in. "My point is, in spite of all of that, I like you."

Ben could feel himself falter in surprise, and quickly fell back on defenses that had always served him well with women. He stepped close to her and backed her up against the bridge rail. His voice was low and he dipped his head to murmur in her ear.

"Really, baby? You like me?" He lifted his hand and brushed his thumb over her cheekbone and then stared down at her full lips. "What exactly do you like about me, sweetheart?"

Despite the fact that he was just trying to make her squirm a little, he was surprised by the way his body was reacting to her closeness. She really was entirely fuckable.

She stared up at him, her eyes blazing and her jaw set. "Not this. I don't like this bullshit you pull when you feel cornered. You do this to try and knock women off kilter. But it won't work with me, I'm not interested in your physical attributes or your charms."

Ben stared at her long and hard, and he picked up on little tells that made him think she was lying. The way he could hear her heart race and see her pulse quicken at the base of her throat, the way she licked her lips when her eyes flickered down to his mouth, all told him she was at least a little interested in his "attributes and charms".

But then something occurred to him that made him step back slightly. If this was all in his head, maybe she wasn't actually interested at all, maybe he was just imagining it. Hell, maybe she didn't even look like this, maybe he was just manifesting a body to go with the the thoughts she was pumping into his head.

It would explain why she looked like his dream girl.

Before he could think more about it, she answered his question. "I like you because...I know there's more there, below the surface, beneath the peacocking and the dickishness. I've...I've seen the films Vought brought back from France. From Normandy."

Ben scoffed and turned away from her. "Then you know what a joke it all was, how I stood there and posed and talked about what real heroes the soldiers all were...while their fucking buddies' arms and legs were still littering the goddam beach."

He nodded her way and gave a bark of laughter. "Part of that ninety percent fraud you mentioned earlier."

He ripped his chest plate off and whipped it out into the water below. What the fuck did he need it for, living inside his own fucking head? He pulled a flask out of his hip pocket and took a long drink. He passed it over to Rae who accepted it and took a small sip before passing it back to him.

He shook his head as he screwed the lid back on. "What's the point of even drinking this? It's not going to do anything; it isn't real."

Rae shook her head. "Maybe not, but you'd be surprised what the mind is capable of, I bet if you drank enough of that, you'd be drunk, or at least you'd feel drunk."

He thought of how the reefer had calmed him briefly and realized she was probably right. Or else, she was doing all of this, and he had no real control over anything in his own mind.

He studied Rae carefully for a minute and tried to get a read on her. "Why are you doing this?"

"I told you -"

"Right!" He interrupted, his tone skeptical. "Right, right, because you, uh...you like me, in spite of my many failings, and because you saw some propaganda bullshit Vought put together."

Rae shook her head. "No, it's because I saw what happened when they yelled cut." She tilted her head. "You were furious."

Ben straightened up and started to walk away. This was stupid, he didn't have to stand here and listen to her, they were in his head, that had to mean he had some kind of control, right?

But Rae followed after him; he thought about shooting her, but realized it was pointless if she was just gonna come and find him again.

"I couldn't figure out what you were so mad about." She said loudly as she jogged after him. His stride was twice the length of hers, but she ran alongside him, and he couldn't shake her.

"At first, I thought maybe you were just being a diva when you told the director you didn't want to do anymore takes, that you were 'fucking done', as you phrased it. But it seemed like more than that, so I did some digging into Vought's archives, where I found at least a dozen letters that you sent to the President of Vought at the time, telling him that you should be part of the invasion of Normandy..."

Rae trailed off and when she spoke again, her voice was soft, "...and I also found the dozen responses they sent back telling you that you couldn't be risked. They said you were too valuable to the morale of the people to risk you being killed."

Ben spun around, and eighty-year-old anger spewed out. "I was fucking bulletproof! Literally bulletproof! My skin can't be damaged, I've been shot, blown up, burned, slashed with knives - for fuck's sake, the Reds tried to slice open my fucking skin with a chainsaw - but fucking nothing!"

He turned and slammed his fist into the brick wall of an empty storefront they were passing. He smashed a giant hole into the wall, bursting a pipe and drenching them both with water.

"I was in absolutely no danger going over there." Ben yelled above the noise of the broken, rushing pipe. "If I'd stepped off one of those boats first, I could have taken down every one of those enemy guns and barely broken a sweat. Vought didn't want to risk my safety? Bull. Shit. They didn't want to risk Soldier Boy being part of a campaign that failed. They waited to make sure the Allies won before they let me show up and 'boost morale'."

He pushed the wet hair off his face and started walking forward again, knowing Rae was following behind.

"Boost morale." He scoffed. "Do you have any idea how much those fucking soldiers hated my guts? Showing up, filming scenes talking about 'our' glorious victories?"

He shook his head angrily, spraying droplets of water. "Yeah, if they could have, they would have beat the shit out of me."

Rae reached over and put her hand on his arm and it stopped him dead in his tracks. He looked down at her face upturned to his; her big blue eyes were imploring. "You weren't responsible for the men that were killed on those beaches. That was Vought's doing, not yours."

He felt something twist in his gut as the vision of severed limbs and splattered brains swam in front of his eyes and he could see faint outlines of the memories in the endless black sky above them.

He angrily shook off Rae's hand. "Oh, Jesus Christ, don't start this pussy bullshit. I'm not weeping in my tea over soldiers I couldn't save. It was just a waste of manpower is all I'm saying, it was shitty strategy, and it made me look weak."

He started walking again, only to stop a second later not sure what the hell he was doing, wandering aimlessly around the streets within his own head. This was all stupid and pointless.

He turned back to Rae and charged towards her, stopping when she held her ground. "Look sweetheart, all of this is a waste of fucking time. None of it means anything. You got me trussed up inside my own fucking head, and you say you're here to help me. So, how? How are you supposed to be helping me?"

Rae lifted her hands. "Just like this." She turned away from him, and walked in a little circle. "We're going to meet here inside your mind, and I'm going to help you work through some of the things that are holding you back. I'm going to help you work through your fear and trauma."

Ben felt his gut twist again, and his chest constrict slightly. "Fuck you!" He shouted at her, anger pulsing through his veins. "I am not letting you dig around in my head and shrink it, like I'm some neurotic laying on a couch."

He raised his gun again. "Now, get the fuck out of my head, or I will shoot you out of it."

"What's the point, Ben?" She asked in a perfectly reasonable voice, no hint of fear there. "I'll just be back and we'll continue from here. I'm pretty sure now that I've spent real time with you and talked with you properly, you'll remember me next time. So, why bother trying to fight me?"

She raised her hands in front of her and pushed them forward in a placating motion. "Look, part of the way you can free yourself is by letting me help you figure out how to deactivate whatever trauma the Russians caused when they tortured you, then we can know that you'll never accidentally go off again."

"I don't have fucking Shell Shock!" Ben shouted, sick of defending himself on that front. "I'm not letting you try to - "

Rae cut him off. "What's your other option, Ben? If you don't take my help...then they're either going to brainwash you somehow to get you on our side, or keep you in this box forever."

Ben felt his blood run cold. "Don't threaten me, bitch!" He roared, rushing forward and wrapping his hand around her throat, slamming her back against the wall of the empty Chinese restaurant behind her. Empty, he realized, because this was all in his head, none of this was real. This wasn't a real New York City street; everything was dark and empty.

She was right, what choice did he have, trapped here in the endless hellscape of his mind?

He dropped his hand from Rae's throat and felt a moment's remorse for the bruises he could see forming on her otherwise smooth and unblemished throat.

She doesn't really die when I shoot her, does she really bruise? Will she wear those bruises when she leaves my head? Does she feel pain when she's here? Does she feel anything physical? If her mind is here inside mine, then wouldn't she feel things too?

He shook his head. He'd go crazy if he thought about it too much.

Rae coughed a couple more times and then straightened up and cleared her throat, but it still sounded hoarse when she spoke. "I'm not threatening you, you fucking lunatic!"

In spite of himself, Ben felt a small smile form at her attitude. He liked people who fought back.

Her voice was still harsh when she continued. "I'm trying to explain that I am your chance. I'm your chance to get the fuck out of this box and never return."

He switched his smile into a scowl. "So what exactly does, 'working through my fear and trauma' even mean? What are we doing?" He felt bile rise at the words. Such bullshit.

Rae sighed. "It means you and I are going to explore some dark memories together and I'm going to try and help you work through them. I'm a psychic, yes, but I'm also a psychologist. So I can help you identify the toxic influences and fears that cause your behavior, and help you to get over them."

Ben felt anger burst over him again. "I'm not afraid of anything! Jesus Christ, I'm a fucking Super Hero!"

Rae took a step towards him, ignoring the anger that pulsed off of him, and looked up at him without blinking. "If you're not afraid of anything, Ben, then you shouldn't be afraid of strolling down memory lane with me, should you?"

Ben started to try and argue her logic, but found that just out of the blue, he was suddenly exhausted. The lights dimmed around them, and he felt like he might pass out.

He frowned at Rae, who was looking a little out of focus.

"Shit," she said delicately and he decided he like the way curses sounded falling from her lush mouth.

"Okay," she said, grabbing hold of his hands. "Your consciousness is ebbing, you're falling into deep sleep, and you won't be reachable again for a couple hours."

Ben saw darkness coming into his peripheral vision and he shook his head trying to avoid it.

Fuck, I don't want to dream.

As he was drifting away, he felt Rae's small hand squeeze his. "But I'll find you again soon, I promise."

As he sank away into darkness, that promise stayed with him, acting like a shield when his nightmares came to terrorize him.

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

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3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.)

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