#soldier boy angst
Text
sweet and sour
summary: when you get back home after drinking a little too much, a sweeter side of ben slips out to take care of you. though you quickly learn that with him, you can't have any sweet without a little sour
pairing: soldier boy x female reader
word count: 3.2k+
warnings: some (mainly) ooc ben, swearing, depictions of alcohol consumption, drunk reader, angst, mentions of drug use, allusions to past sexual behaviours, fluff, hurt/comfort, nicknames/pet names
a/n: okay so i haven't actually made it to soldier boy's appearance in the boys yet, but i had a burning desire to write for him anyway. so yeah just don't judge pls lol
“What the fuck are you doing?” boomed a voice from behind you.
You jumped slightly at the sudden noise, but turned with a grin upon recognizing whose voice it was.
“Ben!” you giggled, meeting his confused gaze with bright eyes as you slightly swayed on your feet. “What’re you doing?”
He raised an eyebrow at you, trying to fight off the smirk forming on his lips as he ignored your question. “Looks like you had a good time out, huh, sweetheart?”
You couldn’t help the heat that rose to your cheeks at the term of endearment, or the string of giggles that left your lips. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but it never failed to make you giddy - especially now. “I did!” you announced, before a frown suddenly took over your face as you remembered why you were in the kitchen “But now I want another drink, and I can’t find anythin’.”
Ben just stared at you for a moment, taking in your rosey cheeks and glossy eyes; but most importantly, the frown that currently adorned your adorable face. He would never admit it, not even to himself, but he suddenly wanted nothing more than for that frown to disappear.
“Alright,” he sighed, heading over to you. “What do you want?”
You watched as he approached, taking in his more casual appearance of a t-shirt and sweats - and, you noticed with a shy grin, a pair of old man slippers. He came to a stop just before you, and you paused as you stared up at his stoic face while he towered over you. You didn’t even hear his question, too distracted by his overwhelming everything to even realize he asked something.
He softly called your name to rouse you from your stupor, repeating it a little more gruffly when it didn’t work the first time. “What?” you asked, blinking up at his annoyed yet smirking face.
“I asked you what you wanted,” he murmured.
“Oh,” you said, your face scrunching together as you thought about it for a few moments. “I dunno,” you determined with a shrug.
“And you expect me to find something for you?” he asked curtly, his brows rising in disbelief.
Your brow unfurrowed as you grinned up at him. “Yes, please!” you declared eagerly, oblivious to the fact that he did not want to cater to you.
He clenched his jaw, extremely irritated with his urge to smile at the sight of your cheesy grin. “Fucking-” he started, before he cut himself off with a long sigh, rolling his eyes. “Alright, fine. Just go sit down or something.”
“Why?” you asked sadly, the frown taking over your face again.
“Why?” he echoed incredulously. “When I came in, you were trying to find a drink while just staring at the fucking glassware for over a minute. That’s why.”
“Were you watchin’ me?” you asked smugly, smirking up at him. “Besides, that doesn’t mean I can’t help find a drink!” you argued, completely missing his point.
His blank expression faltered for a second, a flash of colour fleeting across his face so quick it may as well have never been there. Then he simply barked a laugh, which only deepened your frown. “I bet you wish I was, huh? And you know, that's actually exactly what it means, dollface,” he chuckled darkly, tracing his knuckles along your cheek before suddenly grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up onto the counter. “So sit this one out,” he said, ignoring your shriek of shock and protest.
“Fine,” you grumbled, completely bewildered by the ease in which he manoeuvred you; as if it cost him zero effort. Which, of course, you knew to be true.
“Good,” he said, smiling in satisfaction before ghosting a kiss against your forehead. “Now don’t fuckin’ fall off,” he warned as he walked over to the coffee machine.
You watched him in confusion, your swirling brain trying to figure out why he was suddenly so much more affectionate with you. You were used to him teasing you, or returning your flirtations and banter, though this felt like more than that. Maybe he was just being extra nice since you were drunk. Or maybe you only thought he was being extra nice because, well, you were drunk.
“Okay, knock it off,” he demanded, glancing over at you. “Why are you so frowny? I thought you liked your stupid girls’ night thing,” he added, leaning against the island with his arms crossed.
“I do like my girls' nights! And I’m not frowny” you grumbled, almost offended he would suggest otherwise.
“No?” he challenged, arching a brow as he took a few steps towards you. “‘Cause last I checked, this wasn’t your pretty smile,” he teased, tracing a thumb against your persistently downturned lips. Your smile naturally grew at that, and he beamed in response. “There’s my girl.”
Your eyes widened at his words, and your reaction must have made Ben realize what he was doing. With slightly widened eyes of his own, he dropped his hand from your face as if burned and turned away from you once more, busying himself with making your coffee - exactly the way you liked it.
You watched in silence, your feet softly swaying against the lower cabinets as your mind drifted in and out. “You don’t have any company tonight?” you found yourself asking suddenly.
“Think I’d be in here doing this if I had fucking company?” he asked hotly. “And I’m pretty sure you know when the last time I had company was,” he added bitterly.
Through all the months of you living with Ben, you had noticed when his parade of bed warmers had started to dwindle down; and you had definitely noticed when it stopped altogether. Part of you likes to wish you had something to do with it, while the other part knew that was insane.
“Okay, grouchy,” you scolded with a chuckle. “Don’t act like it’s my fault.”
“When the fuck did I act like it was your fault?” he snapped, growing exasperated.
“Are you almost done?” you asked brazenly, ignoring his question. “I’m thirsty.”
“Coming right up, princess,” he sneered.
You knew it was meant in a derogatory way based on his tone, yet you couldn’t help the warm tingle that spread through you anyway.
“Here,” he grunted after a few minutes, nearly shoving the mug at you. He raised his eyebrows impatiently when all you did was stare down at it. “I better not have made this for nothing,” he warned.
You gingerly took it from his hands, staring at it as if it was a foreign object; because, with a fluttering heart, you realized that he gave you your favourite mug - though you knew it was probably just a coincidence.
“Thank you,” you said quietly, grinning softly at him before taking a sip.
“Whatever,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes as he hastily turned his back on you once more.
“You seem extra grumpy tonight,” you pointed out, watching him intently as you happily sipped away.
“Who fucking cares?” he grumbled, keeping his attention off you as he made himself a drink - a strong one. He had a sinking feeling that if he looked at you he’d feel all warm inside again, and he refused to let that happen. “Besides. Maybe me being extra grumpy has to do with the drunk girl currently sitting on my counter.”
“Oh,” you said meekly. “I’m bothering you?”
“You always fucking bother me,” he mumbled, slamming the bottle down.
“I don’t mean to,” you assured quietly, your vision growing blurry with unshed tears. “I thought we’ve been getting along,” you added sadly.
“Me putting up with you isn’t us getting along, dollface,” he sneered.
You inhaled sharply at his declaration, your tears finally breaking loose and running down your face. “I can just leave you alone, then,” you offered, your voice a mere whisper.
Ben made the mistake of glancing over at you, and the pang of guilt he felt inside his chest really pissed him off. He begrudgingly made his way over to you, standing between your swaying legs as he tried to meet your gaze - but you refused to acknowledge his presence.
“Look at me,” he ordered, placing a hand on your chin to force your gaze on him.
“No,” you said, closing your eyes.
He let out an honest chuckle at your stubbornness, and if you had been able to see him, you would’ve noticed his eyes sparkle with affection. “Look at me,” he said again, much softer this time as his thumbs wiped away your tears.
You let out a resigned breath, slowly looking up at him.
“There she is,” he cooed, a small smile growing on his face. “Hey, darlin’.”
“Hi,” you replied solemnly, your face scrunching ever so slightly in confusion over the interaction.
He didn’t speak for a while. Instead he just stood there, staring at you with your face in his hands as he tried to figure out what the hell to say next.
“Look, just- stop crying, alright?” he said awkwardly, almost nervously.
“Is that your idea of being comforting?” you asked dejectedly, almost laughing in disbelief.
His grip on your cheeks tightened ever so slightly for a fraction of a second, before loosening again. “You and I both know that offering comfort isn’t my thing.”
“You could at least try,” you muttered snidely. “I’m tired of being the only one of us who tries.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” he snapped, letting you go and taking a step back in order to glare at you.
You scoffed, frustratingly swiping away angry tears that began to stream down your face. “It doesn’t matter.”
A heavy silence blanketed the two of you, and you picked up your mug to idly sip at it once more as he stared you down. He suddenly let out a frustrated huff, swearing and muttering under his breath as he turned away from you and grabbed his glass. With disbelieving eyes, you watched as he left the kitchen without a second glance. You weren’t a stranger to arguments with Ben, but this time, it felt different.
You stayed where you were perched, silently finishing your coffee and trying to make sense of everything that happened. You worked yourself back up into another frenzy as you thought everything over, and by the time your mug was empty you slammed it onto the counter with so much force you were surprised it didn’t break. Hopping off the counter, you began to stumble your way to your bedroom while angrily grumbling to yourself. A new inferno was set alight within you when along the way you came across Ben, nonchalantly lounging in the den as if nothing ever even happened.
“How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to do that inside?” you snapped, watching in growing contemptment as he merely glanced in your direction before turning his attention elsewhere, smoke billowing over his face.
“Tell you what, princess,” he muttered, taking another long drag from the joint he held. “I’ll stop smokin’ inside, as soon as you start payin’ for this fucking place.”
Without so much as giving it a second thought, you marched over to him and ripped the joint from his hands. He raised an eyebrow as he watched you with curiosity, a smirk already forming on his lips.
“I said,” you seethed, grabbing the ashtray from the side table as you stared him down. “Stop.”
He stayed silent, watching as you crushed the joint in the tray before tossing it back on the table with a clang. The corners of his mouth twitched as he fought back an amused grin before he steeled himself.
“I’ll go ahead and give you ten seconds to leave,” he announced calmly, though you knew him well enough by now to notice the hint of warning in his tone.
“Or what?” you challenged, stubbornly crossing your arms.
Normally, you knew when to stop trying to push his buttons, but you had just enough alcohol still coursing through you to keep on going this time.
He leaned forward, his presence completely imposing despite the fact he was sitting and you were standing over him. “Do you really want to find out?”
You shifted nervously as you took in his expression, and you knew he was both pissed off and annoyed; then again, it was rare that he wasn’t.
“Whatever,” you finally muttered, turning away to leave.
It wasn’t due to you being afraid of him - yes, he was intimidating as all hell, but he had never once actually physically hurt you. Despite the many times the urge struck him, and no matter how much he despised it, he quickly learned that you’re the one person he could never lay a harmful hand on. No, you simply left because you were growing exhausted over this whole night, and you just wanted some peace and quiet.
“Thought so,” he grumbled behind your back, snickering as you momentarily stopped in your tracks.
“Oh, just go to hell, Benjamin!” you exclaimed, whipping the closest thing you could grab towards his head.
He caught it easily, laughing heartily when he realized what it was. “Thanks, doll. This is just what I needed,” he teased with a grin, rattling the pill bottle as he held it in the air for you to see. “It’s the only way I can fuckin’ put up with you.”
You stared at him carefully, and you could tell just by the look in his eyes that he only said it to get another rise out of you, but you couldn’t help the way your bottom lip trembled as you fought back more tears.
His face instantly fell as he noticed your reaction, and while it was his intention, he instantly regretted it. With a heavy sigh, he tossed the bottle aside and stood up.
“What are you-” you began to ask as he made his way over to you, but he cut you off.
“Just shut up for once,” he muttered, a trace of a lighthearted chuckle in his voice as he shook his head.
You opened your mouth to fire off more insults when he shocked all the words out of your vocabulary by wrapping his arms around you. He rested his chin on the top of your head, and even though you felt insurmountable anger towards him, you quickly found yourself melting into his touch, your arms tightening around his torso. A few moments passed by before he let out a small sigh, his fingers tracing a feather-light pattern along your back; a gentleness neither of you knew he was even capable of.
“Look, I-... I didn’t… mean it,” he finally said. His tone was tight and awkward, and you knew it was a near impossible thing for him to actually admit. Honestly, hearing those words from him was nothing short of a miracle.
“Thank you,” you said quietly, knowing this was the closest you would ever get to an apology from him.
“How about we get you to bed, huh?” he asked lightly, trying to diffuse the situation.
“Yeah,” you said, pulling away from him. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
You quickly left before he could respond, making it to your bedroom and locking yourself away in the bathroom to get ready. You took your time, carefully scrubbing away all the traces of the club, and the rest of the night, that you could before slipping into your night clothes.
The first thing your bleary eyes noticed when you reentered your bedroom was Ben, paused in the middle of your room with a glass of water in his hand.
“What are you doing?” you asked curiously, rubbing at your tired eyes.
He let out a heavy exhale, looking at you with an expression you’ve never seen on him before. “Was just… bringing this to leave for you."
“Thanks,” you replied awkwardly, meeting him halfway to take the glass from him.
He stared at you for a moment, watching as you made your way to the bed and under the covers. He wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what.
“I’ve been trying, you know,” he suddenly grumbled, unable to take the tense silence any longer.
“What?” you wondered aloud, glancing over at him.
His face was scrunched in concentration as he stared at something straight ahead, unable to bring himself to meet your gaze. “With you. To be… I don’t know… better.”
His words took you by surprise, and you felt a little guilty for making him think you never noticed. “I know that,” you admitted softly.
“I don’t think you do,” he quipped, his voice more aggressive than he meant it to be. “You bother me all the fucking time.”
“You know-” you began to argue, anger starting to simmer deep within your bones again.
“Stop,” he all but growled, holding up a hand. “Just fucking listen for once.”
You glowered at him, folding your arms as you sank further under the covers, as if seeking some kind of protection, while waiting for him to continue.
It took him a while to speak up again, and you almost thought he’d never continue, but he hesitantly explained himself. “You bother me… because you make me different.”
“What do you mean?” you asked tentatively.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, chuckling humourlessly. “I’m a dick. I don’t care that I’m a dick. But you- I’m around you, and I want to be less…” he trailed off with a sigh, unsure of how to go on.
“Less dickish?” you offered, fighting off a smile.
“Yeah,” he agreed, awkwardly clearing his throat. “Yeah, I guess so.”
You hummed thoughtfully, thinking over your response. “In case you haven’t noticed, you don’t exactly send me running for the hills, Ben.”
“I know that,” he said passively. “I just… I don’t know. Don’t think that I don’t try.”
He finally turned to look at you, and you could see the pleading in his eyes; the hurt. You sighed in defeat, sitting up and gesturing for him to take up the space beside you. He hesitated, raising a brow in contemplation before making his way over. You peeled back the covers for him, and he carefully slid in; cautious, as though he thought it was a trap.
Neither of you were sure what to do next, and after a few minutes of awkward silence, you laid down to settle in for some sleep. Ben followed suit, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in close; you instinctively nestled against him, relishing in the warmth he provided.
“I hope you don’t think I’m drunk enough to forget that you were actually sweet tonight,” you said suddenly, your voice a playful whisper.
He let out a chuckle, his chest rumbling beneath your cheek and forcing a small giggle from you.
“Just don’t expect it all the time,” he declared, a playful undertone in his voice as well. “I’m mostly sour.”
Though despite his declaration, his grip tightened to pull you in a little closer.
“Well,” you said, closing your eyes and relaxing against him. “Sweet and sour does happen to be my favourite combination.”
“And thank Christ for that,” he muttered, more to himself than anything.
You smiled to yourself, hearing his words despite them sounding far away. You had a fleeting intent to respond, but your mind grew too heavy, and you quickly fell asleep to the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your head - though, not before you felt him placing a lingering kiss to your hairline, paired with a murmured goodnight, sweetheart.
tagging: @roseblue373
#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy#soldier boy x female reader#soldier boy x you#soldier boy x y/n#soldier boy fic#soldier boy fanfiction#soldier boy fluff#soldier boy angst#jensen ackles#jensen ackles soldier boy#the boys tv#the boys#the boys series#soldier boy the boys
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GUYS PLEASE I NEED SOME PEOPLE TO WRITE FOR MY BBG BLACK NOIR
PLEASE I WILL TAKE ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING, FLUFF, ANGST, SMUT, HEADCANONS, IMAGINES, DRABBLES, BLURBS ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING BECAUSE I AM ABSOLUTELY SURE I HAVE READ EVERYTHING FOR HIM ON HERE AND AO3
AND HONESTLY THIS GOES FOR ANYONE FROM THE BOYS, FRENCHIE, BILLY, SOLDIER BOY, STARLIGHT, KIMIKO, HUGHIE, SUPERSONIC PLEAASSEEEEEEE
BECAUSE IK I WASNT THE ONLY ONE WHO WATCHED AND ENJOYED THIS TV SHOW SO PLEASE SOMEONE WRITES FOR THESE CHARACTERS
AND IF YOU DO OR U FOLLOW ANYONE WHO DOES WRITE FROM THEM PLEASE COMMENT
#black noir x you#black noir smut#black noir headcanons#black noir x reader#black noir#black noir imagine#soldier boy fanfic#soldier boy angst#soldier boy smut#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy#soldier boy headcanons#soldier boy x female reader#soldier boy x you#soldier boy x oc#soldier boy x y/n#the boys spoilers#the boys soldier boy#the boys smut#the boys season 1#starlight the boys#starlight x reader#billy butcher the boys#billy butcher headcanons#billy butcher x reader#billy butcher imagine#the boys supersonic#frenchie the boys#the boys kimiko#kimiko
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Already Broken
Summary: Soldier Boy fools around with someone that's supposed to be insignificant. But he finds himself more drawn than he could ever be.
Genre: romance, angst
Characters: Soldier Boy x female reader
WARNING: cursing, violence, smoking, mentions of weed, depictions of sex, mentions of abuse, character death, minors dni -- It's Soldier Boy, he is the warning.
a/n: this man.. I can't.
Masterlist
It didn't matter who he was.
You didn't care, as long as he showed up with the money or weed he promised.
"So, what time you get off today, darlin'?"
Ben sat in the booth, having his lunch where he always does -- the diner you worked at. It was small, grimy, but a local favorite.
"Soon, in about half an hour." You replied. "What do you want?"
He smirked. "You know what I want. Keep the change, I'll see you later tonight."
You first met Ben when he was saving your boss, the diner owner, from being robbed. That's mostly why he always eats at the diner, his payment for saving your boss was a free meal each day (though he leaves tips anyway).
After having you serve him, Ben didn't want anybody else. He would only ask for you, and that sparked your deal with him. In reality, it was just an opportunity for blackmail.
He caught you smoking in the back alley one time, and after threatening to spill the beans to your boss, he decided to keep your little secret. In exchange of your services -- after hours.
He'd come, fuck you over, and leave money. You took offense at first, but at this point you didn't care. It was money that you needed, and he fucked you good.
By the time you reached your apartment, Ben was already inside waiting for you.
"There's my sweet." He sighed in relief before spreading his legs and smirking, "Strip."
Rolling your eyes, you took off your clothes, showing him your naked body underneath the waitress uniform you had to wear.
"Mm, no underwear under that short skirt? Baby, you should've told me earlier." Ben stood up, circling around you, his breath right next to your ear. "Would've taken you right then and there."
You gulped, feeling his cold uniform touching your bare skin.
You know the rest.
------
Sometimes you wonder if what you're doing with Soldier Boy is worth it. Yes, he's charming, he has that je ne sais quoi factor, and God was he handsome. The only problem was that he's ruthless, and calling him a 'bad guy' was an understatement.
"You're scared of me." He stated the obvious while lying naked on your bed. "Why?"
"Are you really asking why?" You snorted as you put on some clothes. "You could literally snap my head off at any moment you like. That fact isn't exactly comforting."
He smiled, "Aw, but I won't do that. I like you, you're fun to keep around."
"Very reassuring."
He had stuck the money on the fridge with a magnet, like he always does. It still makes you feel bad, makes you feel like a whore, but you needed the money -- at this point, you are a whore.
"What's on your mind?"
"Nothing."
He frowned, a smile of disbelief on his face. "Usually you'd already be smoking by now."
"I can't." You said, "My brother's coming to visit and he's staying. I need to look like I have my shit together."
"Brother? I didn't know you had a brother."
You raised a brow. "Cause I don't need to tell you. Anyway, you can't come over for the next week."
It was his turn to raise a brow. "What do you mean I can't?"
"I can't have my brother look at me like this -- with obvious sex bruises."
"Sounds like you're even more scared of your brother than me." He joked, but when he saw the look in your eyes he started to wonder.
"Oh, you are scared of him."
"He's my brother." You swallowed thickly, grabbing yourself a glass of water. "He's just strict."
Ben looked at you for a minute before deciding to let the topic go. "Well, whoever he is, I'm still coming over. He can't stop me from getting my daily dose of addiction."
He left a kiss on your neck before leaving your apartment. "I'll see you soon, baby doll."
-------
Yes, you're scared of your brother.
It sounds silly, but when you were kids he used to hit you -- playfully at first, but then it got more serious. He called you names that he would disguise as playful and harmless, and you believed all he said.
That's why as you're picking him up, you're nervous as hell.
"Took you long enough."
"Hi to you too." You sighed, "Come on, my apartment's just down the block."
He handed you his bag and walked ahead. "Keep up, dumbass."
"Why are you here, anyway?"
"What, I can't visit my little sister?" He said in a 'loving' tone. "My friends are gonna hang. I'll just be here for a few days."
Thank God. You thought to yourself.
Your brother, Kyle, immediately went to your fridge to find some food.
"Help yourself..." you muttered.
"What did you say?" He frowned.
"Nothing," You sighed, dropping his bag on the couch while you cleaned up some dishes.
Kyle leaned against the counter. "Damn straight. You're starting to disrespect me. I should check in on you more often."
"I'm an adult, Kyle." You protested, "You don't need to protect me."
Big air quotes on protect.
"You're still my little sister." He sighed, "I don't want anything to happen to you."
For a moment there you felt like Kyle's changed. Maybe he's different now. Maybe he's no longer the ass-
"What the fuck?" Kyle squinted at the bruise he could see under your shirt. "Is that a fucking hickey?"
You pulled your shirt. "No, um, it's-"
"It is!" He scoffed, "God, I'm out there working my ass off and you're here just whoring around town? Jesus Christ."
"I'm not-"
"Get a real job, Y/N. Oh wait, sorry, you already have one -- being the community slut."
It was rage that you were feeling. Your hands were sweating, your heart was beating too fast for its own good, and your hand was holding a glass.
You did what you always do, breathe in and out. Count to ten. Don't let him get to you--
"Who the fuck would want you now? Worthless. Since the moment you were born."
Until that last comment somehow triggered your arm to swing and hit his head. The glass in your hand shattered into pieces when it hit his head, and Kyle was now lying on the ground, unconscious.
You weren't sure what happened -- no, you know exactly what happened.
Your hands were shaking while you tried to balance yourself.
What did you do?
How- why- shit-
"Shit."
You heard a familiar voice at the entrance of your apartment.
"Ben.. I-"
"Don't move." He said, warning you about the glass that was everywhere. Ben moved closer to Kyle, checking his pulse, though he knew the chances were slim. There was a big piece of glass that went through his skull.
"Is.. Is he?"
Ben stood up and covered you away from Kyle. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."
"Ben, is he- is my brother.. I didn't mean to, I.. I couldn't.." You struggled with your words, chest heaving in panic because you realize what you'd just done.
Ben checked your hands for any cuts, but luckily they were small. "Don't look at him. Look at me. You're okay, alright? You don't need to explain to me what happened."
"But I-"
"Shh, it's okay." Ben pulled you into a hug, making sure you face away from Kyle's body.
It wasn't like Ben to act like this, to put someone else before him. He had no intentions to protect you, but the moment he saw the fear in your eyes, it was like instinct.
"Listen to me, here's what's gonna happen."
-------
Things moved fast. One moment you were picking up your brother, and now his body is being carried away to the morgue. Ben did all the talking to the police.
His story?
You're his secret girlfriend who has an abusive brother. When he arrived at your apartment he saw your brother hitting you in ways unimaginable. He did the only thing he knew how to.
The story wasn't a lie, except for the last part.
Ben wanted to protect you, but you knew damn well you killed your own brother. The guilt, the shame -- it was eating you up. And Ben could see it.
Ben managed to convince the authorities that you're too much in shock to speak, and he brought you back with him to his place.
"Hey," He called out softly, rubbing your back. "How are you holding up?"
He couldn't believe he's actually being nice, for once.
You sat on his bed and looked at him. "You're being nice to me."
He chuckled. "You just went through something traumatic. It's gonna take a while for you to get through it."
You mouth went dry.
"I.. I killed my brother."
"You were defending yourself."
"Against what? His words?" You scoffed, "He was yelling at me.. he was being fucking condescending and I just.. I lost it."
Ben reached for a blunt he casually had nearby and passed it to you.
"He was abusing you. Maybe not physically, but it doesn't matter. He's been doing that to you your entire life." He said. "If you ask me, it's about time he learnt his lesson."
"He's dead, Ben. He didn't learn anything."
The blunt was gone fast.
Ben stayed with you for the entire day, even though sometimes you didn't know what to say. Ben didn't know what to say either, he just knew he couldn't leave you alone.
At one point, Ben carried you to his bathroom. He ran a bath, made sure it was warm, and sat behind you, washing your hair.
"Why are you being nice?"
"You just went through something, sweetheart. I'm trying to take care of you."
You looked down. "I know, but you didn't have to. You could've just left me, watch me get arrested.. but instead you lied for me. You took the blame. Wait, what's gonna happen to you? Aren't you going to get in trouble?"
He chuckled, "Sweetheart, I'm Soldier Boy. I can do anything I want."
You turned to face him. It was the first time you saw his expression so gentle, so kind.
Ben let you rest your head on his chest while he rubs your fingers, knowing well that you could still feel the glass breaking in your hands. He couldn't handle you looking at him like that, it made him feel things.
"You know, I was alone when I got here." He started. "Everything was dark, I couldn't find my way. And then I met you, and.. I don't know, things just started falling into place."
"I didn't do anything though."
"That's the crazy part." He smiled, "You were just there. Whether I needed you or not, you're always there. Even if you only did it for the money, or the drugs, I don't care."
Ben didn't want to add any more to your plate. You've had quite the day. So he just held you and massaged your sore shoulders.
"Just stay and let me be here, alright? We'll figure out everything else tomorrow."
"..Alright."
#ben soldier boy#soldier boy#soldier boy x female reader#solder boy x reader#female reader#jensen ackles#the boys#homelander#team payback#vought#dean#winchester#soldier boy angst#soldier boy romance#soldier boy fluff#the boys amazon#the boys tv#the boys season three#soldier boy the boys#jensen ackles soldier boy
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Uncertain Grounds **
Summary: After Herogasm, Abby meets Soldier Boy again. This time, though, he doesn’t plan on her leaving his sights again, and she realises there’s more to him than meets the eye.
Abby breathed in before finally stepping out of the bathroom, leaving her suit inside and just wrapping a robe around herself, and frowned when her ears caught glass clicking.
"Ben?" she was back in the living room.
He raised a glass, drinking her bourbon.
"You got nice taste," he hummed.
Her face heated up and she tried to pull her robe tighter around herself, as if to conceal her body from him, but it was like Ben could see right through her.
"Come here " he instructed, patting his thigh.
Oh.
When her powers emerged at a young age, it felt like any delicate detail of her was ripped right out of her hands.
She was strong and she knew it, and maybe to some, it was liberating, but her mother always reminded her of how she wasn’t a real woman and no one would ever see her as one.
But there Ben was, making her feel small with just a simple movement of his hand.
"What's up with that robe?" he asked, relaxing back.
He was shirtless. She could see his flawless skin underneath, stomach a little soft over his muscles and just overall stupidly tempting.
He smirked, pulling her to seat her on his lap.
"You want me to unwrap you like a present again?"
Her face flushed and he smirked.
"Soldier…" she sighed.
He hummed, shaking his head.
"Ben," he corrected her.
Abby looked away, and he moved his hands up to her body, caressing her hips and then pushed her robe away.
"Perfect," he hummed. "Never found a woman this hot, you know?"
"What about countess?" she asked, not able to hold back her tongue.
He snorted
"I don't even fuck countess," he moved his hand up her stomach. "Not since I got a taste of you."
She wanted to doubt him. He was fucking Soldier Boy, he could have any girl he wanted.
Why would he-
But her thought process stopped when he captured her lips, kissing her deeply.
She moaned, letting his tongue slide in as one of his hands just threw her robe down, fondling her breasts in his rough hands.
"How wet are you for me?" he purred, pulling away from her lips and taking a hand down between her legs, and Abby gasped when he parted her folds with his finger. "Hm, baby... were you this wet when you saw me come to the rescue?"
"No," she protested, and whined when he pushed a finger into her.
He clicked his tongue.
"I don't think you weren't, baby," he decided. "I think you want me to take you right there. Could fuck you right in front of the reporters and you'd just take me."
She moaned.
"Ben," she protested.
Was he crazy?
He pushed a second finger into her, opening them and slowly fucking her.
"I could have laid you out on the hood of that police car and fucked you right there," he smirked, lips moving to her neck, kissing and teasing her skin. "Letting them all get the good angles of my cock fucking this pussy."
Abby couldn’t stop her brain from conjuring the images. It would’ve been so dirty, everyone would know that soldier boy fucked her, that he liked fucking her.
It made her gush at the thought of everyone knowing, but the embarrassment was still there. What would Vought say? It wouldn’t be good for either of their images.
"Ben!" she yelped, feeling a pinch in her clit.
“You’re thinking too loud, baby doll," he pulled his fingers out and lifted her. "No thoughts, just cock, baby."
He lifted her up, standing and wrapping her legs around his waist and making Abby gasp.
"Hold on, pretty doll," he commanded simply, not even looking like he was breaking a sweat as he walked to her room.
Ben closed her door shut with his foot and put her in her bed, smirking and taking off his pants quickly.
"I'm gonna fuck you so hard you'll feel it for days," he promised, tossing his clothes back. "Nothing will ever be better than my cock inside you, pretty doll. You'll never be able to get yourself off if not just rubbing that pretty bud because of how addicted you are to me."
. . .
"Uncertain Grounds" is a 12-part Soldier Boy series coming out this December! To have early access to it (and a few other smutty Soldier Boy and many other stories) now, subscribe to my Patreon, it's just $2 a month and I promise you won't regret it.
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Beautiful Trauma - A Soldier Boy Miniseries: Chapter 1
Beautiful Trauma
Pairings: Reader x Ben/Soldier Boy
Summary: The reader is the real widower of Ben/Soldier Boy and loved their life together before the incident. In 1983 she took Compound V, so she could be with Ben forever, but in 1984 her life crashes to the ground, and she's stuck in a world without him. In 2022 a knock at the door changes her life, and when she's told that Ben is alive she hopes that there can be a forever after all.
A/N: Reader has certain traditional gender values, that are antiquated today. I'm also hoping to convey a softer side to Ben, than what we have seen on The Boys.
Chapter Warnings: Antiquated views, language.
Chapter W/C: 2015
This work is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. If you like it, heart, and reblog it. All feedback is gold.
1983
It burned as it travelled through your body. The agony compared to nothing else. To say you were unprepared had been an understatement. Ben said it would hurt, and you would wish you were dead. You’d scoffed at his words. You’d been through pain. Your daughter’s birth had been complicated – If you could live through that, then you could live through this. To that, he had raised his eyebrows at your disregard – “Alright, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Your throat ripped from the scream tearing through, sweat dripped from your skin in rivulets, and nausea built rapidly that it had you heaving over the side of the bed into a bucket Ben had placed for you.
You wished you had heeded his warning. Because he was right. You honestly wished you were dead. You grasped Ben’s hand tight. Tighter still when the pain built. Your breath hitched, and you grit your teeth. It didn’t take long for you to beg him to end your life.
“Ben, please, I can’t. Please, Ben. Please!”
Ben smoothed your hair away from your sweaty face gently. The slight pull felt like needles stabbing into your skull. He hushed you in the same tender manner he would do with your daughter as he dabbed a cool flannel on your forehead to help keep you from burning up. The contact had you crying out. You sobbed, which was another mistake. The tears felt like acid as they trickled down the side of your face, disappearing into your hairline.
“I know, darling.”
His soft, deep voice boomed inside your head, and stars burst behind your lids. A migraine bloomed behind a temple, and you welcomed the black dots descending with it. Relief would be a godsend.
Ben’s thumb stroked the back of your hand, and you hmmed before finally succumbing to the darkness dragging you under.
*
“Ben.”
Saying his name felt as if razor blades were slicing your throat after swallowing them. You lay looking at Ben, exhausted and aching. It hurt to move, and thankfully most of the pain had subsided.
“Hmm?”
“Water.”
He stood to fetch the water you requested. He gently placed your hand on the bed, but you grabbed his hand, forcing Ben to turn his attention to you.
“I don’t feel any different.”
The tears burned in your eyes until you blinked them away.
“What if…what if I’m not…”
He knelt and cradled your face with his hands. His thumbs stroked your cheeks and wiped the tears from your eyes.
“Hey. Hey, don’t concern yourself with that now. There’s time for that later.”
You wanted to nod, but everything hurt. The bright agony had disappeared, but now it was a dull ache. Everywhere.
Ben stood, and this time you let him. He exited the room but returned soon enough with the water you’d requested. He sat it on the bedside table and helped you sit up. He plumped the pillows behind your head and eased you back. The bed dipped as he sat beside you. He held the glass of water, bringing it to your lips, and tipped the liquid in.
You gulped it down, the coolness refreshing and aided your throat.
“Easy now.”
Ben controlled the flow, stopping you from gulping the entire thing like a parched beast. You asked for more after emptying the glass, but he just shook his head.
“Rest now.”
He helped you lie down. From the cupboard, he pulled out a blanket. He shook it from its folds and placed it over you, tucking you in. He kissed you on the lips and wished you a good night.
2022
For once, you were bright-eyed and clear-headed. Today was starting to feel like a good day. You didn’t know what it was, but today was yours, and you could do whatever you wished. Perhaps today would be the day you’d tackle laundry, and maybe you’d get around to the rest of the housework.
You gulped back the medication, chasing it down with water, and then you made yourself breakfast. Waffles and ice cream. Then time seemed to stand still as you looked at the just made plate.
Your hands gripped the counter as your vision began to distort and crack. Damnit. You thought you’d gotten over this. You closed your eyes and were instantly transported back to the eighties.
Ben was laughing, and as he ate his waffles with ice cream, he was also feeding his daughter, pretending the spoon was a plane. His plane sounds were crappy, but your daughter loved it, and so did he.
“Woman, where’s my coffee?”
You lifted the mug up, so he could see it. “Got it right here.” Then you took your plate and his coffee to the table and sat to eat with your family. Ben leaned over and kissed you on the temple before resuming eating and feeding his daughter.
The plate of waffles no longer seemed appetizing. The ice cream had melted, saturating the waffles and the entire thing had congealed together. Nearly forty years had passed, but you still couldn’t look at a plate of waffles in the same way again. In a quick fit of rage, you screamed and tossed the plate, sending it careening into the wall.
A bash on your front door stopped your rage from going any further. But annoyance set in. It was most likely your neighbour coming to yell at you for disrupting her peaceful morning. You were all ready to tell her to go fuck off. You wrenched the door open ready to yell at her, but instead of your sage-toting neighbour, a man stood in your doorway.
“Bad time, luv?” He asked, peering around your door, eyeing the smashed plate, waffles, and melted ice cream on the floor.
Cockney. The long black coat he wore made him look like Neo from The Matrix, except it was dirty as fuck. He had no care for his appearance. Dishevelled hair and a beard to match. You regarded him with irritation and suspicion.
“Fuck you want?” You closed your door behind you, so he couldn’t peer in like the nosey fucker he was.
“Charming. You Miss Smith?” Though he pronounced it as Smiff.
“Mrs.” You corrected.
“Right. Well, I’ve got a warrant for your arrest ‘ere.” He showed you his badge.
What?!
“Your bad day’s about to get a whole lot worse.”
*
Some cop. He didn’t take you to the station. Instead, he had you in some crappy run-down building where he’d built an office for himself. He brought a seat out for you and handcuffed you to a table leg.
He wasn’t alone. He had a group around him. Some skinhead sat with a moody Asian, a young buck and a black man, who all watched her intently.
“You’re not a cop, are you?”
“Nah. But I do work with the CIA.” And then he proceeded to show you the badge. At this point, you didn’t know whether or not he spoke the truth, and you were about to say, until—
“What do you know about Soldier Boy?”
It all came crashing back. What you’d worked so hard to barricade came flooding through. The memories flashed right after each other. Domestic bliss. Your daughter. Arguments, and that night before he went away to Nicaragua.
You tucked your head between your legs as best you could and breathed steadily. In and out, nice and slow. Your hands curled into fists, and you shook, desperate to keep it together.
“Alright. You tell us where the Crimson Countess is, and we’ll let you go.”
At her name, you looked up. You fixed the unkempt one with a stare so intense his gaze flicked away to one of his gang members.
“Why would I know where Cuntess is?”
He grinned deviously. “Ain’t she his boyfriend?”
Boyfriend. What a laugh. It had been a shitty PR stunt to up Crimson’s stats, to boost her sales, and in turn, it would boost Soldier Boy into the stratosphere. Everyone loved a power couple, and they were the ones to be. But you knew the reality. He hated it. And so did you. It caused many arguments where you begged and pleaded with him to cut the deal. You resented Crimson and the rest of Payback for going along with it. But most of all, you resented Ben. And he knew it.
There had been no big wedding for you and Ben. No, it had been done in a dingy registrar’s office who had been forced to sign an NDA. There had been no wedding dress, bouquet, first dance or cutting of the cake. Just you in a pretty dress, him in black slacks and a Philly baseball shirt.
Of course, after waffles and ice cream, he had taken you home and fucked you silly, and you had loved it, forgiving him.
“Yeah, and I’m his wife.”
After those words came out of your mouth, the leader smiled even wider. This had been his plan all along. To get you to divulge “secrets” as such.
“Mon dieu…” Whispered the man stting beside the Asian.
“Ben’s dead. Why can’t you let me be miserable and live my life?”
“He’s not dead—”
“He died saving America from a nuclear meltdown in Ohio. It was all over the news.”
You remembered it like it was yesterday. Ben’s agent wasn’t answering your calls, nor were any of Payback. Your daughter screamed, wanting to be changed or fed. But there was also a good chance that she just wanted her daddy. Then it came on your tv.
BREAKING NEWS: SOLDIER BOY IS DEAD.
The phone dropped from your hand, clattering to the floor. Your daughter’s cries felt distant as you crashed to your knees in front of the tv, watching Ben’s pictures flood the screen. Apparently, the bastards at Vought didn’t think you deserved the decency to know before everyone else.
The weeks after were Hell. You couldn’t grieve properly and had to learn to navigate the world without Ben. His face was all over newspapers, magazines and Times Square. You couldn’t get away from it if you tried. The tv showed false girlfriends offering their condolences and Crimson Countess was all over your screen, blubbering about how Americal had lost such a hero and how she’d lost the love of her life. In a distraught, drunken moment one evening, you threw a crappy ornament at the tv, smashing the screen and blowing it up.
No one knew the real Ben. No one, but you. You screamed down the phone and left messages on their answering phone demanding, pleading, begging for anything. But they did nothing. Vought didn’t care. Instead they erected a monument of Soldier Boy in honor of his service and act of heroism.
You struggled to adjust. First, you had to change all the accounts into your name, which also meant getting a job, so you could pay the bills. You hadn’t worked in years, and they required all kinds of skills you didn’t have. Then, you got testy with the man trying to help you put a resume together, so much you accused him of judging you for being a widower and a single mother. You didn’t know how the world worked anymore and needed Ben by your side.
You never even got an invite to his memorial.
“I see you weren’t privy to the truf.”
“What do you mean?”
The man in the long coat scratched his face as he said. “He nevva died. Payback betrayed him and got taken by the Russians, but he’s escaped.”
Payback.
Betrayal.
The story of him saving America from a nuclear meltdown had been a lie.
Ben was alive.
Hope blossomed in your chest.
“And we fink he’s gonna go after Payback.”
You didn’t give a shit about them. They deserved everything that would come to them when Ben found them.
“Let them die.” You were adamant.
“Woah, hold on now—”
“I don’t care. They took my daughter! And when Ben finds out, he'll go scorched earth to find her.”
#Beautiful Trauma#JulesTheQuirky's fics#Ben#Soldier Boy#reader insert#The Boys#Soft Ben#Ben x Reader#SB#soldier boy x you#soldier boy reader insert#soldier boy fanfiction#soldier boy x y/n#soldier boy angst#julesthequirky#SPNFanficPond Guppy Writer
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Hi! I was wondering if you could write an angst fic taking place in the late 60s where Ben (Soldier Boy) is in an arranged marriage with the reader, but the reader does love him? Also, they’re much younger than he is (obviously an adult though, just a young one). This is oddly specific ig but I have an OC based around this concept 😭❤️
Two Ways To Love Him
Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader
Word count: 1,709
Summary: There were certain things about the supe she didn't want to accept, they were surprisingly two things love about him.
Warnings: Swearing, angst, implied smut (not with reader), implied drug use
A/N: I wrote this a while ago and just forgot to post it, but hopefully it's what you were hoping for! Also I was intending for this to be a drabble, but here we are at 1700 words lol This is unbetad, so I'm sorry for any errors I've missed.
It was easy to love his exterior personality, the parts of himself that he showed to the public. The parts of himself that Vought manufactured. The charm, the wit, the subtle cockiness, the smirk, the heroic sacrifices he had made over the decades in each war that occurred, the roughness of his voice laced with the rasp of cigarettes and bourbon. It was easy to love him from afar for many years, knowing that was all it would be. Just a silly admiration for an American hero, the world’s greatest supe. What she felt was real but fleeting, something she knew she’d get over whenever she decided that it was immature and she needed a reality check.
A reality check that came in the form of Vought calling her into the executive offices. It was in the form of them needing her for something that she wasn’t ready for, especially with someone she didn’t know. She knew his public life, yes, but she had no idea what he was like in the privacy of his penthouse apartment at the top floor of the building.
“There’s no way I’m fucking doing this,” he argued, taking out his third cigarette in the span of fifteen minutes they had both been in the CEO’s office.
“You don’t have a choice, Ben,” Alan from talent relations countered. “In light of all the papers reporting your… alleged ties with the mafia, we need to present you as the wholesome, all American hero that you’ve always been.”
“By marrying me off to some bird I don’t even fucking know?!” Soldier Boy pointed towards her, his eyes never even meeting hers. “Not to mention she looks like one of the Brady fucking Bunch kids.”
“I’m 25,” she finally added, her voice meek as her legs shook under her boring brown skirt.
“Yeah, that’s a lot better,” he scoffed, placing the cigarette between his lips and lighting it. He took a long drag as he dropped down in the leather chair across from the table, leaning his head back as he closed his eyes. “Fuckkkk.”
“There’s an image we need to protect here,” the CEO, Paul Roberts explained, leaning forward on the table as he clasped his hands together. “Vought can’t have its number one supe acting out and causing more trouble than he was initially trying to prevent. This arrangement is going to show a level of maturity to your supporters. Think of the popularity points and keep your attitude in check.”
Soldier Boy glared at him, shifting forward and putting the cigarette out in the ashtray. “Fuck you, Paul.”
He stood up from the chair, adjusted the tactical vest over his suit and turned towards the exit, sending those same daggers towards her before he slammed the door shut. She gulped as she turned to the two men in the room, nervously twisting her fingers.
“You’ll be compensated fairly,” Alan informed her, handing her a pen as he pushed the contract across to her.
“What about-” she started as she gestured to the door that Soldier Boy just walked through.
“You let us handle him,” Mr. Roberts added, his tone having a sickening finality to it.
They didn’t leave much room for choice, and she knew better than to argue with a fast-growing corporation like them. With a flurry of the pen, she signed her life away to Vought and to being Soldier Boy’s wife.
There was barely a ceremony, and no exchanging of rings. They gave their forced “I do’s” to a minister hired by the company in one of the offices, standing side by side and never once looking at each other. Vought had people remove her belongings from her parent’s house, her childhood home and move it into the spare room in Soldier Boy’s apartment. A knock on the door alerted her to the envelope left outside, her wedding ring inside that she slipped onto her finger herself. This was never something she thought would happen so abruptly. She always imagined herself falling for a wonderful man, both of them declaring their love for each other before they promised to spend the rest of their lives together.
Being married to Soldier Boy wasn’t what she had pictured for herself.
Being the wife of Vought’s most valuable asset was nothing like having a crush on him. She spent most of her days alone, either crying her eyes out, muffled by the down pillows on the large bed she slept in by herself, or staring out the large, floor to ceiling windows and wondering what the tiny people down on the ground were doing with their lives. She was only ever in close proximity to him when the media outlets wanted to speak with them, now that Vought had officially announced the nuptials of the great Soldier Boy and his childhood sweetheart, as the story cooked up by PR suggested. They fake smiled and “aww, honey”’d their way through every interview, their looks barely lingering on each other for more than a few seconds. They went their separate ways after each one, resuming the routine they had found themselves in.
She kept quiet as she watched him go off to meeting after meeting, commercial after commercial, and party after party, every single day and night. She never said a word as he came in, late at night and blinding drunk, a loud guffaw waking her up as she heard the hysterical giggles of the women he was sneaking into his room. She kept her mouth shut as she watched him consume every pill, snort every kind of powder and drink everything in sight. She ignored him as he did what he was used to doing, showing no interest in that life. She never wanted it and she was even more certain of it now that she had witnessed him in all his glory.
She had seen behind the curtain, she knew what he was really like now, and it wasn’t easy to love him without the guise of his public persona.
In fact, it was incredibly difficult to love him for who he actually was.
Until one day… it wasn’t.
It started with a simple gesture. She had come back from spending her day shopping with the money that Vought was giving her in checks, completely caught off guard by him being there, pouring himself a drink. Their eyes met for what could possibly be the first time in weeks, but exchanged no words. He slid the tumbler across to her, pouring another for himself before he walked away and closed the door to his room. That was the most time they had spent in each other’s vicinity within the apartment, but she appreciated that he actually acknowledged her presence, even if it was for just a mere moment.
She quickly noticed the other little things he started doing, things that he probably hoped she wouldn’t realize was him, but she did.
He would leave for the day just before she would wake, and always had a bagel and coffee waiting for her when she reached the dining table. He usually arrived back at the apartment in the wee hours of the morning, and on more than one occasion she had fallen asleep on the couch. She remained still, making no sudden movements as he covered her with the blanket that was draped over the back of the sofa. After the first time, she had to make sure it wasn’t just a part of her dreams, and sure enough it happened again another two times. She tried not to read too much into the night he picked her up and carried her into her bedroom, or the next night when it happened once more but his large hand delicately tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she continued to feign sleep, before he promptly left the room.
All of it was a side to him that she never expected once she saw who he really was, and she knew not to take it for granted despite the twinge of longing in her heart that it would be an everyday occurrence that could be acknowledged between them. A stepping stone into a better relationship with him.
But he didn’t want that, and he proved it as he continued his usual activities as if those nice things were just fleeting, so few and far between that it began to feel like a part of the PR stunt. Even if it was behind closed doors.
And yet, she hung onto those moments. They may have been rare, but they were a part of him that she had begun to yearn for, another part of him that she had begun to love. A part of him that she wished he would just fully embrace rather than hide it away as if he was ashamed and disappointed in myself for doing it.
She knew she couldn’t change him. He was too embedded in Vought’s infrastructure to ever be a different person, and his only outlet to escape their grasp was to do all of the things she was forced to pretend didn’t happen.
So she resigned herself to the fact that there were only two ways to love him. Only two aspects of him to love.
One was his public life, the persona he put on for the people that adored him. That sexy smirk, the ability to melt hearts with just a wink and his heroic efforts in the wars - WWII, Korea and Vietnam - that all followed his initiation into Vought. The public didn’t need to know that was all for the photo opportunities.
The other was all of the little things he did for her, things that he didn’t know she had noticed. They were little gestures, not nearly enough under normal circumstances for someone to fall in love with, but she needed those in order to survive this situation she had found herself in. The money promised to her would never be enough to make it through that.
Those were the only two ways to love him, she told herself. Reminded herself every day of the fact.
And everything else, everything she had chosen to ignore… well, those were all things she would learn to live with.
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The Soldier and the Better Man
Summary: Ben comes back from Russia looking for the life that was torn from him. He may have to settle for revenge.
Warnings/Explicit 18+: None really. Angst. Implied smut. Vengeful Soldier Boy. Sad Soldier Boy. Mentions of sex, nothing explicit. Some brief descriptions of torture and violence. Nothing overly graphic. TW: Mentions of child loss.
Pairings: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Y/N
Word Count: 2k+
A/N: This was written for a request by the lovely, @deanwinchesterwifesstuff I hope this is what you were looking for, hon! ❤️
The present day scenes will be in green. The past in white.
The SB in this fic is softer than in Canon, but still an ass, still pretty full of that TM. Other liberties are taken with Canon, just as an fyi. 😊
A/N: 2 This fic will also fill one of my daily prompts in the 30 Days Writing Challenge. It will cover the prompt: Write about two characters dancing together.
The beautiful dividers throughout the fic were created by @firefly-graphics
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He wasn't sure at first how long he'd been gone. The years and decades of torture had all eventually blurred together. And he had no idea how long he'd been sleeping in that fucking box.
It wasn't until he was out of the compound, running naked around the streets of Moscow that he saw the date, saw the year.
Forty fucking years.
He stood there, staring down at the paper he'd fished out of the trash, impervious to the cold, but still shaky on his long-dormant legs. He stood and stared at the date, and the numbness and confusion in his brain was slowly replaced with a heart full of boiling hot rage.
Forty fucking years.
She'd be... almost seventy years old now. And the kid would be... a grown man.
He ran off in search of clothes, knocking the teeth out of the first grubby guy he found who was roughly his size. As he slipped on the filthy track suit, his mind drifted back of its own accord, to the night he'd met her.
He'd been at some charity thing she was hosting, one of many organizations she was involved in, this one had something to do with runaway youth or something. He'd been paid a lot of money to show up and help rally for the cause.
So, he'd shown up, read the words on the cards they gave him and posed for pictures in his super suit. Same routine, different banquet hall. It was getting old.
He was sick of the endless jockeying for hierarchy at Vought, sick of the shitty movies and the bullshit press tours. He was sick to death of his fucking team and he wanted out. All of them were just assholes of varying degrees. He wanted off the Vought merry-go-round.
They'd been promising him for quite a while that they were gonna get Supes into the military. That's where he belonged, storming beaches and taking down the enemy, not giving speeches and making hypocritical "Just Say No" PSAs.
When the picture-taking had finally fizzled out, he'd escaped out a back entrance off the kitchen and let the door slam satisfyingly behind him. He leaned against the brick wall beside the door, pulled off his helmet and lit up a Lucky Strike. He inhaled deeply before pushing the smoke out through his nose and thumping his head back against the brick.
"Wow...it was really that bad, huh?"
He stood up straight as a woman appeared from the shadows on the other side of the alley.
Jesus, he thought, what kind of fucking soldier am I these days, if some skirt can get the drop on me so easily?
She smiled like she could read his mind. "Don't worry, it's my super power - being easily ignored."
He scowled at her. "You're a Supe?"
She laughed lightly and he found it strangely musical. "No, sorry. That was just my sad attempt at humor. I'm just boring old, plain human me."
He stayed where he was, staring at her. She WAS remarkably plain, none of her features were particularly striking or memorable. Her figure was almost completely hidden beneath a long, black shapeless dress.
He took another drag on his cigarette and she shook her head. "Those things are just cancer in a tube, you know?" Her tone was slightly scolding, but her expression was soft.
He shrugged. "Benefits of being a super hero, I guess. My body pretty much stays the same whatever I put it through." He took another drag, and exhaled away from her as she approached.
She quirked her head in a way that made him think of a puppy. "And you put your body through quite a lot, don't you?"
He frowned. Her reaction to him was very strange. Usually people were awestruck when they first met him, a reaction that almost always turned quickly to heat and drooling in women. But this woman wasn't awestruck OR drooling.
"Who are you, lady?" He asked bluntly.
She smiled as she came to sit near him, on the steps that led up to the loading dock.
"I'm the one who hired you."
He was slightly taken aback, and for a moment he thought about apologizing, putting out his cigarette and putting on his helmet, being the Soldier Boy she'd paid for, but in the end he couldn't be bothered.
Instead he took another deep drag before flicking the butt of his cigarette out into the alleyway and letting the smoke escape his lungs slowly.
"Was I worth the money you paid?" He asked, aware that he was making himself sound like a whore. Felt that way sometimes.
She contemplated him for a minute before nodding. "Well, we need to raise over ten million dollars if we're going to build the facility we want, a shelter for runaways. And all those rich folks in there are gonna want to show how similar they are to the great Soldier Boy, that they think the same way he does, so... yeah, you were worth the investment."
He shook his head, at her audacity. No one talked plainly to him like this, spoke the truth about who he was, what he offered. Vought told him he was a god, his team told him he was a warrior, fans told him he was a hero. No one told him facts. In spite of the ding to his ego, he found himself intrigued.
Who was this plain girl with the musical laugh and bald truths?
He stuck out his hand to her. "Well, I'm glad the 'Great Soldier Boy' got you the funding you needed. But you can just call me Ben, sweet thing."
Her grip was surprisingly firm as she shook his hand. "And you can call me Y/N, and NEVER call me sweet thing again, please."
The sound of a car honking and angry Russian screaming brought him back to the reality he was in, and he jogged forward, trying to quickly put more distance between himself and the place he'd been held and tortured for four decades.
A week later Ben once again found himself staring down at words that his mind couldn't immediately digest.
As he stood trying to make sense of them, his memories were again swimming around in his head.
He hadn't been able to shake the little do-gooder out of his head. The next time they crossed paths he'd decided that he simply needed to fuck her out of his system.
She'd come to his bed willingly and happily, and he found her body to be surprisingly soft and lush, and her responses to his touch to be tantalizingly heated and passionate.
She had no shame about sex, and they spent a couple of nights exploring each other and at the end she'd kissed him goodbye, expecting nothing more from him, while he'd found himself even more ensnared by her.
It was frustrating to him how tight her hold was over him and he told himself he was being a pussy by letting some broad dig her claws into him so deep. But without fail, he was always the one that made the next move, the one who called for a real date, the one who then proceeded to ask her out again and again.
She was unlike anyone he'd ever known. She was a bleeding heart and her politics sometimes drove him a little crazy, and he thought she was too naive for her own good. But she always argued her position well, and never backed down and that much he could respect.
She made no demands of him, never forced him to be anything he wasn't. When he was being a grumpy asshole, she'd tell him he was a grumpy asshole. When his temper would flare and he'd scream at her about some slight annoyance, she'd tell him to call her when he'd calmed down. And she'd just walk away.
She didn't put up with his bullshit, but she never withheld affection either. She touched him all the time, wrapping her arms around his waist and cuddling her face into his chest, simply so she could feel him against her. She would run her fingers through his hair when he laid his head in her lap, or give him gentle kisses between his shoulder blades when he was rigid with tension, and melt something inside him.
He fought against it for a long time, the last thing he needed was to go soft and stupid over some woman.
But Y/N wasn't just some woman, he realized eventually. He would never admit it, but he needed her desperately.
So, when she sat him down one day to tell him she was pregnant, he was amazed to find that he felt only joy, a feeling that, before Y/N had come along, he truly believed was beyond him. He could barely remember the feeling from childhood.
But as he put his hands on Y/N's stomach reverently, he felt the long-forgotten emotion surge through him, and for the first time since he was a little boy, his eyes filled up with tears. He blinked them away quickly and he'd deny them if asked, but he couldn't hide the joyful smile that lit up his face.
He saw the relief pass over Y/N's face and it hurt him a little that she'd been worried about his reaction. But he understood. He'd made no commitment to her, they'd exchanged no vows.
He was determined to rectify that and a few days later he was on one knee and she was saying yes.
The next six months were the best and happiest Ben had ever had. He was still dealing with Vought's bullshit, still sick of being paraded around as nothing more than living, breathing Vought propaganda. But that all melted away when he walked through the door to find Y/N waiting with open arms and eager lips.
He found a real, carnal pleasure in watching her body expanding with their growing child. He found he couldn't keep his hands off of her.
One night she'd cajoled him into dancing with her. She put on an old record and Billie Holiday's voice came crooning out of the speakers.
You must remember this
A kiss is still a kiss
A sigh is just a sigh
The fundamental things apply
As time goes by
He let her pull him to his feet and rolled his eyes as though he was simply humoring her, but he was secretly thrilled to have her in his arms. Her round belly, where their child slept peacefully, was nestled protectively between them and Ben felt his heart expand while his mind ran riot.
Swaying back and forth, her head on his chest and her small hand clasped in his, he was suddenly terrified that he was going to be an absolutely rotten father.
Visions of his own childhood, full of wealth but empty of love and warmth, ran through his mind, and his father's voice echoed in his ears.
You're not a real man.
You're a fuck up.
Real men don't take shortcuts.
So you're supposed to be some kind of hero now? You? Impossible. You are nothing but a fucking disappointment.
Get out of my sight.
Y/N must have noticed him tensing up because she lifted her head from his chest. "What's wrong, honey?"
He was about to brush the question off, but then he looked deeply into Y/N's eyes, and where he'd once seen plainness, now he saw only bright beauty.
He shook his head and asked the question he was the most curious about, and the most scared of.
"Why are you with me, sweetheart? I'm an asshole, I'm rude and hard. I rarely do something if it doesn't benefit me. I'm not kind, I have no patience, not a lot of conscience. You're this sweet, pure thing, Y/N, so...why are you putting up with me? Why are you committing to me, why... Why do you love me?"
She reached up and smoothed away the frown between his brows.
"Isn't it obvious, my darling?" She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "I think you're worth the investment." She said, repeating her initial assessment of him.
She smiled up at him, wide and sweet. "You're a better man than you think you are Benjamin Reed. I love the man you are, but everyday, I fall a little more in love with the man you're becoming."
For the first time since his mother died when he was six, he let a woman see a tear spill down his cheek.
Two days later, his team attacked, poisoning him and knocking him out. When he woke up he was a world away, tied to a table and screaming, as men in lab coats tried and failed to saw through his skin.
He shook his head, desperate to push away memories of the torture and keep himself in check. He needed to focus on the present.
He looked down at all the folders laid out in front of him. It had taken days to get to the truth, to track it down to a medical records storage facility, break in and scour through the files to find what he was looking for.
He'd read it all through a dozen times, but the information just rattled around in his mind as he tried to make sense of it.
He looked down at the words floating around on the page:
Patient deceased. Time of death, 11:06 August 20, 1984. Patient went into premature labor, likely brought on by stress. Patient suffered a stroke due to a pulmonary embolism during emergency c-section. Tried and failed to revive on the table.
That was it. That was all that was written about how the only light in his life had been snuffed out.
But he didn't need more. He could fill in the blanks on his own. She learned he was dead, as everyone seemed to believe he was, the shock had triggered labor, she died giving birth to a son.
A son that the records claimed only lived for a few hours. They called him simply "John". When the child died, Vought had apparently swooped in to arrange for body disposal, and a service for Y/N.
The records praised Vought and their charitable actions toward the child and it's mother, apparently all part of the company's charitable work with the hospital.
"Vought's good works shine through again." The official document had gushed.
Good works my ass, Ben thought. They took the body of my son to experiment, to test him and his genes.
Vought was constantly trying for a better Supe - faster, stronger, more endurance. No way they'd pass up the chance to study the dead child of a Supe.
Ben felt the rage boiling up again, his burning hot hatred of the company that had created him, began to make his chest glow under his newly returned super suit.
He felt the fury vibrating in his bones as he pictured each and every one of his former team, pictured how he was going to pull them apart, how he was going to crush their skulls under his bare hands.
He could feel the energy surging beneath his breastbone and he welcomed the destructive power he knew would come with it.
It ebbed ever so briefly as Y/N's voice whispered in his ear.
You're a better man than you think you are...
But his hesitation lasted only a moment. That better man was dead, murdered 40 years ago. In his place was a soldier. And the soldier's mission was clear.
Destroy Payback. Level Vought. Burn the world.
1. Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.
@lyarr24
@siospins2
@impalaslytherin
@akshi8278
@maggiegirl17
@candy-coated-misery0731
@nt-multi-fandom
@slytherinlyn314
3. Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.)
@sunshineandwings86
@kazsrm67
@sexyvixen7
4. Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well)
@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men
@awkward-and-indecisive
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@supernatural4life2022
@spn730015
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#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy x you#soldier boy fanfiction#soldier boy#soldier boy angst#request fic#30 days writing challenge
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Soldier Boy Masterlist
SERIES
Bad Reputation Series
Soldier Boy x F!Reader
In a world full of careless supes, powerful people, and corruption on all levels, Y/N’s the typical millennial, trying to make the world a better place one good deed at a time. As a civil rights lawyer in New York City, justice, kindness, and selflessness are her motto. Her patience is tested, however, when none other than America’s ass himself shows up on her doorstep and needs help.
(12/12 – Complete)
Rehab Series
Soldier Boy/Ben x F!Reader
Thanks to Soldier Boy, the CIA was able to develop Project Bloom under the fierce leadership of Grace Mallory: a final cure to Compound V and a hopeful end to the supe epidemic three years after the explosive incident at Vought. A secret rehab facility in Upstate New York is supposed to help former heroes find their way back to humanity. The catch, though? Soldier Boy has never fucking agreed to any of this shit and is surely not happy about being powerless for the first time in his goddamn long life.
(10/10 – Complete)
ONE SHOTS & DRABBLES
Time of the Season
Soldier Boy x F!Reader
Request for Dirty Drabbles.
French Boys
Beau Arlen x Artist!Reader // Soldier Boy x Artist!Reader
Request for Dirty Drabbles.
He Comes In Colors
Soldier Boy x Artist!Reader
Request for Dirty Drabbles.
#soldier boy masterlist#soldier boy#the boys#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy x you#soldier boy x y/n#soldier boy x female reader#soldier boy imagine#the boys fanfiction#the boys imagine#soldier boy fanfiction#the boys season 3#the boys smut#soldier boy smut#soldier boy angst#soldier boy reader insert#jensen ackles#jensen ackles x reader#jensen ackles fanfiction
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Yandere Head Canons:
Love After Death
Yandere Skeleton x Fem Reader
I’m obsessed with Kate Bush’s song ‘Army Dreamers.’ So I decided to write a story about a soldier who died during a war, but he came back to life just to fulfill his promise of coming home to his lover…
There was a Great War many years ago between monsters and humans. A war that took countless innocent lives all due to the human’s greed. A war that took the life of your lover, Zered. Your childhood sweetheart.
Zered was a young sorcerer from the magic tower. A prodigy and pioneer of magic with a heart of gold. He was the man you had planned to spend the rest of your life with. You wanted to run your fingers through those blonde curls until the two of you were balding and wrinkly. To look into those sea foam eyes until you couldn’t. To press soft kisses against his full lips until your lungs burned. You loved that man more than anything in this world… but the war took him from you.
Zered may have died a hero of the empire, but you couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped its fingers into your heart. Your beloved was no nothing more of a war story. A great sorcerer who was able to take down the dragon enemies to give time for reinforcements to arrive. A war hero. And they couldn’t even bring a single remain of him back to you…
You sighed as you sipped on some homemade ale. Your eyes glanced at the sun’s rays that danced across the hay fields in sorrow. This was the cottage the two of you were going to live in for the rest of your days. The one you’d start a family in that was now cold and empty. It didn’t matter that the sun hit it perfectly each time, Zered wasn’t here.
You rock back and forth in the rocking chair. The birds weren’t singing their melodic tunes like they normally did. Which was odd. Why weren’t the birds singing- you almost screamed when you see a dark figure slink through the meadow towards your cabin. What on earth was an undead doing here?!
You quickly sprang up from your chair and fell over since you were a bit tipsy. Crap. Crap. Crap! You needed to head inside before that creature got to you.
You let out a shrill shriek of terror when the skeleton stood in your porch. Its red eyes stared into your very soul as it tilted its head to the side. Oh god… this was it. This was the end. You were going to be ripped apart by this hideous creature-
You went still when the creature threw itself into your arms as it released weeping noises. The skeleton whined and shook as its arms wrapped around your body in a tight hug.
“H-home. I… home.” The skeleton’s voice was a spin chilling rasp. A small tuft of blonde on its head showed that it was once human.
What did it mean by being home- wait. This cousin possibly be?
“Zered?” You gasped when the skeleton pressed its teeth onto your cheek like it wanted for press a kiss against your cheeks. “Zered, what happened?”
“Home… home.” Zered was barely to rasp out legible words. The skeleton cupped your face in its palms. “Love you… I home.”
#female reader#yandere fic#yandere imagine#yandere#yandere obsession#Yandere skeleton#yandere lich#yandere x darling#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere x y/n#yandere oc x reader#yandere oc#yandere original character#yandere concept#yandere insert#yandere headcanons#yandere fantasy#yandere boy#yandere male#yandere male x reader#yandere soldier#fantasy#yandere short story#Yandere zombie#monster yandere#yandere monster#monster x reader#yandere drabble#light angst
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Hello. I was wondering if you could write an imagine in the BMD-verse (been following it for a while now; love, love, love it, by the way!) where Ben cries?
Like something really bad happens in general or to the Reader, and he losses it? I mean, personally, I have never known this man to cry, and I would love to see you conjure up something that could possibly elicite that reaction from him.
But no pressure - will definitely understand if you don't want to write it!
Oooh, so you really wanna kill me, huh? 🫠😭😭
Lol it's okay, thank you for loving Break Me Down!! It's one of my favorite story verses that I've been able to create on here. ❤️❤️
This request was difficult for me on multiple levels, but I think I was able to pull it off? (I'll let you be the judge.) This is set in the BMD-verse, shortly after "Love Actually."
Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader
Word Count: 2,400
Tags/Warnings: Major angst, show-level violence, hurt/comfort, "twist" ending (you'll want to read until the end, trust me).
Imagine: Ben loses you.
Ben restrained another sigh when he realized you were no longer walking next to him.
He turned and saw you stopping in another damn kiosk, this time looking at a selection of Pashmina scarves. As if you didn’t have enough clothes.
“We’re not here for a damn shopping spree,” he called after you.
He ignored the people who glanced at him as they walked past, a couple of them even shooting him an annoyed look.
One didn’t just stop in the middle of a busy sidewalk in New York City, but as with most societal protocols, Ben couldn't really give a fuck.
He almost started tapping his foot. Instead, he crossed his arms as he glared in your general direction. You were smiling and chatting with the woman selling her wares as you finished the transaction.
Ben at least could admire the view of you bent over in those tight jeans and ankle boots. You also wore the dark green winter coat he bought you last month, lined with faux fur to keep you warm.
When you eventually came back to him, you shot him an amused smile. You held a new scarf in shades of green and blue, to match your coat. But you also held out a new pair of leather gloves for him.
“Here you go, Grumpy. I didn't forget about you,” you teased. He raised a wry brow at you and took the gloves. He inspected them with a half-critical eye.
“And how much did these cost, five cents?”
You rolled your eyes and kept walking. He caught up with you and slipped the gloves into his pocket.
“My hands don’t get cold anyway,” he reminded you. And you often complained that his body heat was like a radiator, especially at night. Although, you hadn’t been complaining since the winter turned frigid this February.
“All right, whatever. Just don’t say I never get you anything,” you quipped. “Besides, you know you love to accessorize.”
A smirk pulled at Ben’s lips. The gloves were a half-assed gift, but he still wore the watch you got him for Christmas proudly on his wrist. That was a nice silver Rolex.
“All I know is, we’d better not be late for this damn meeting,” he said. “I don’t wanna hear Mallory’s fucking mouth.”
The two of you had made a day of coming into the city, hitting a nice brunch spot and ice skating at Rockefeller center before your date had been rudely interrupted—by a call for a new mission.
Grace Mallory had been a bit cryptic on the phone, but it had something to do with the mess Ben left of the drug cartels in South America. After they got back to the States, Ben left that “business” behind…he just hadn’t thought of how that would shake out in Colombia.
So now, you two were headed to the Supe Affairs building. You slipped your arm around his, while his hands were in his pockets. You looked up at him with a smile.
“Try to enjoy the little things, Ben,” you told him. “We had mimosas and some bougie ass lobster tails with our eggs this morning. I skated circles around you on the ice. And now we’re going to get some work done.”
“On our day off,” he retorted.
“To be fair, you made the mess, Mr. Kingpin,” you pointed out. “We’ve just gotta clean it up…as usual.”
“Hey," he eyed you. But you both knew the warning had little heat behind it.
He still reached for your cheek and brushed his thumb across it. He felt how cold your face was, and he stopped for a moment in the middle of the sidewalk. Neither of you cared when pedestrians gave you dirty looks as they passed by.
Maybe you were right though. Maybe he should take stock of the small moments. Ben held your face with both hands and caressed some warmth back into your skin.
Your smile softened, and your eyes closed when his lips found their way to your forehead. He then took the newly bought scarf out of your hand and wrapped it comfortably around your neck.
“What a gentleman,” you said, with a small grin.
Ben smirked down at you…until his face fell.
He heard the whistle of the bullet before he saw it.
It took him another second to move, grabbing you and shielding you with his entire body when it hit his back. The bullet itself bounced harmlessly off his skin, but the inner compartment of Novichok exploded like a small smoke bomb. The smell was too familiar to him to be anything else.
Ben coughed and was forced to push you away from him before the gas reached you. You yelped and almost tripped on your feet, but you scrambled back against the wall of a drycleaners. Your wide eyes met his as his knees buckled; the gas had clouded around his head.
“Run!” he shouted through fits of coughing.
You hesitated, for just a second. But when another bullet ricocheted into the wall behind you, near your head, you ducked and had to take off running.
You wove through the busy sidewalk, pushing people out of your way as you went. Whoever was after him this time, you had a feeling these were the people Ben had pissed off in Colombia.
Fuck! You sprinted past an alleyway and saw the hand coming for your arm, but even when you turned, there was another man, dressed a black military-style uniform with his face covered by a black mask, waiting to grab you from behind.
It was muscle memory. You released an elbow into the man’s neck, a punch straight into his teeth and nose, then kicked his knee out with the heel of your boot.
You grabbed your gun from under your jacket and would've shot him, except the next man wheelhouse kicked it out of your hand. You stepped back on instinct, ducking the following punch, and the rest of his arm to run in the opposite direction.
The first man pointed a large automatic gun straight in your face. You gasped and put your hands up. With a quick glance in either direction, you realized that they’d cornered you.
Your hands were pulled behind your back by someone else. That’s when they started dragging you toward a black SUV parked in the corner.
Except that car was soon destroyed, by an old Honda Civic being shoved into it. The SUV's hood constantined like an accordion.
You looked up with wide eyes, and there stood Ben, at the crossroads of the alley. He was furious.
“Soldier Boy,” greeted the man who once again held the automatic gun poised at you. He pulled down his mask, revealing the tan face of a middle-aged man.
He moved over to you and grabbed your arm from his subordinate. He raised the gun to your back. With one press of his finger, your insides could become Swiss cheese.
Your jaw clenched as you tried to take in even breaths. You focused on Ben. His green eyes met yours, and briefly you caught the worry behind them before his steely gaze moved back to the man who held you.
“Pretty ballsy, Reyes,” Ben said. His voice was a drawl, more controlled than he felt. “You really thought this was gonna go down that easy?”
Reyes scoffed. “You’re the ballsy one. Taking off with all that product you stole.”
“You’ll have to take up with the CIA on that one,” Ben replied. “They confiscated all the smack from my place. Probably reselling it to a few hobos down the street. You’re welcome to check under the bridge over there.”
He gestured in the direction of the Hudson River.
Reyes shrugged. The sound of a gun’s safety being clipped back resounded through the alley. You felt the vibration of it on your back. Your eyes closed for a moment.
“Bad news for her,” he said.
"Hey," Ben snapped. "There's no fucking need for that."
"I think I'll decide what we need," said Reyes. Your lips pursed as the gun dug into your back. "Maybe it's your bitch's insides at your feet."
Ben slowly raised a placating hand. Though his gait was still relaxed and arrogant, as always, you knew it was a well-crafted act. To hide his anger. His fear. To seem in control of himself, and to reinforce the intimidating presence he still was, even unarmed.
“Listen. If it’s money you want, we can work it out,” Ben replied.
His eyes once again found yours. He could see you were holding your breath. You were good at hiding it, but he knew you were scared. He wanted to tell you that he had this handled. That everything would be all right.
He focused on Reyes again. The other man considered the supe with a tilt of his head. He sucked his teeth and spit on the ground, out of the corner of his mouth. It was mixed with a bit of blood from when you'd punched him in the teeth.
“Okay, my friend,” said Reyes. “Let’s work this out. Pull out your phone.”
Ben made slow movements in grabbing his phone from his pocket. They all stepped further into the alley to avoid prying eyes and discussed the transfer of funds, and how much was fair. Ben claimed he was giving him a deal with his first offer.
Reyes demanded three times that amount. Ben raised his brows...but he complied. The money transferred from his bank account.
“Okay, we’re fucking done,” Ben snarked. He gestured at you with his eyes. “Let her go.”
In his mind, he was already contemplating how thoroughly he'd rip Reyes apart for this. After you were safe. He'd have a first class ticket to Medellin by tonight, ready to Colombian-necktie this cocksucker.
Reyes sighed through his nose. There was still about ten feet between him and Ben. He didn't seem to think it was enough. He took the gun off your back and backed up with you a few steps. Eventually, he released your arm.
“Come ‘ere, sweetheart,” Ben reached a hand out, beckoning for you. You met his gaze once again, and let out a subtle breath.
You took three hesitant steps forward.
And the gunshots echoed horribly through the alley.
As it turned out, Reyes always had an escape plan. You were merely the distraction.
It proved effective, as Ben’s protest rang out as soon as the bullets fired. He raced forward and caught you as you stumbled, but his hands soon became coated in your blood; it fled from your back in thin rivulets.
You gasped and clung to his arms. His ears rang with the sound, along with tires squealing and shouts and police sirens. All he could focus on was the color draining from your face.
Both of your breaths came out ragged as he slid with you down to his knees. He brushed your hair away from your face, even as his blood-covered hand stained your cheek. Your pained eyes drew up to his face. You tried to speak, but you didn't have the strength.
“I hear the sirens. They’re coming for you, take you to the hospital,” he promised. His voice was rough, but his throat was tight. His eyes scanned over you. “All you need is my blood and…Christ. Fuck it all.”
He laid you down on the dirty asphalt and hurriedly yanked up his coat sleeve until it ripped. It exposed his arm. He was about to drag a blunt nail across his own skin to bleed into you.
“Ben.” Your fingers twitched against his knee.
When he looked at your face, there was no longer life in your eyes.
His own were wide, almost uncomprehending. His breathing was harsh as empty hands fell to his thighs. His head felt heavy, though his ears were still ringing.
He drew enough strength in his hand to wipe the blood from your cold cheek…but your face was beginning to blur.
Or not, he realized, as the sting in his eyes took him by surprise.
In a fit of mania, he gathered you back up in his arms and ignored the wetness covering your back. He held you, impossibly tight. Tighter than he’d ever held you, because he was alone in the alley…because he was alone again.
And it was his own fault.
His eyes squeezed shut against the burn, but it was futile. Everything was. His breaths were sharp and stifled as pain tore inside. A pain worse than anything the Russian's could've inflicted on him.
His lips pressed against your forehead, trembling there. The first drops of wetness rolled down his cheek. He couldn't stop it from happening, but then again. He guessed he truly was a failure, after all.
You made the mess…
His first tears had been spent at his mother’s funeral, when he stood alone at her gravestone.
His last ones would fall and die with you.
“Ben,” your voice was soft but insistent.
He finally woke with a start. A sharp inhale through his nose.
He had been sleeping on his side. Before he even truly registered where he was, in the safety of his bedroom, he turned his head toward you.
His eyes found your face in the dark, over his shoulder. Your hair was frizzy from sleep. The strap of your nightgown had fallen off one shoulder. Your face looked bleary and tired, but you frowned in concern.
“You okay, baby?” you asked. Your hand soothed across the dewy skin on his arm.
Ben’s throat constricted. He was starting to remember bits and pieces of the dream…the nightmare. He rubbed at his eyes, then dragged a hand over his mouth.
“Yeah,” he said at last.
“Hmm.” Your gaze narrowed at him. “You sure?”
Ben had only enough energy in him to nod in response. His heart was still racing. Maybe you sensed that, because you leaned onto his arm and dropped a hand down his chest. You kissed his bare shoulder with soft lips, and he couldn’t help himself.
He raised a hand to cup the back of your head. He let out a long, relieved sigh through his nose, closing his eyes. Then he turned onto his back and brought you closer, with an arm slipping around your frame and pulling you against his chest. You made a sound of surprise, but you went willingly.
You brushed the sweaty strands of hair away from his face and pressed a kiss against his neck, to his jaw, his cheek and above his brow. He accepted it all and tried to calm his breathing with the feeling of your touch, and the smell of your flowery soap that lingered on your skin.
With a hand still cupping your head, he guided your lips to his. He claimed you slowly, but with purpose. You answered him by tilting your head, deepening the kiss for a moment.
You parted from him just as slowly. You knew everything wasn’t okay, but you also knew it wasn’t the time to push him for an answer.
Maybe in the morning, you thought. …I’ll make pancakes. Haven't done that in a while. And he’s always happier with something sweet.
You rested contentedly against his warm chest and let his heartbeat, gradually slowing back into a steady rhythm, lull you back to sleep.
Ben tangled his fingers into your hair. He laid one more kiss on the top of your head.
And for damn sure, he was going to cancel that trip into the city tomorrow.
AN: I know, I know. The "it was all a dream" thing is super cheesy, but I couldn't leave it on heartbreak. I just don't have it in me with these two. 🥲❤️🩹
Read the Sequel:
A friend of mine requested a sequel to this imagine: "You confront Ben about his fears."
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This is my heartstopper
#dead boy detectives#dead boy detective agency#edwin payne#charles rowland#neil gaiman#the sandman#god sends his gay angst to his strongest soldiers#gay#tv#heartstopper
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My Little Love
Chapter 32
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader
Word count: 5.7K
Warning: Some tears, little bit of angst, Sad Henry, Some seperation anxiety, some fluff
A/N: Our favorite family is back. Also it's the first official introduction to Steve's Honey. Although it's only for a brief moment. This also happens before all of the holiday one shots for this series.
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There was fire in your veins. It traveled from the top of your head to your toes. The burning sensation wouldn’t stop even as you begged for some mercy. Leather straps dug into your flesh, cutting your skin and drawing blood. The more you struggled the worse it got.
A voice, familiar, cold and harsh made impossible demands. You begged some more. The only response you received was that same voice, mocking you and a stinging sensation across your cheek.
You couldn’t place the voice no matter how much you tried to remember. Where had you heard it before? A choked sob escapes you as the group of people around you move to ‘work’ on you.
****
Shallow ragged breaths fill the otherwise quiet room. Slowly a voice calls out to you. Dripping with love and innocence and concern. It pulled you out of the deep dark memories that were weighing you down.
“Mama, is kay now. No cwy.” Charlotte’s reassurance was spoken in a calming manner.
“It’s just a nightmare.” You heard Henry say as you finally opened your eyes.
Your body ached, your muscles were tense and sore but you realized that you weren’t in the living room anymore. At some point someone, most likely Bucky, moved you to the master bedroom. Immediately your mind went back to the nightmare, a memory really. You couldn’t shake that feeling of knowing who that voice belonged to.
“Mowning mama.” Lottie’s sweet sleepy voice pulls your attention as she gently caresses your cheek. She wipes away the tears that had fallen.
“Morning sweet Angel. Morning my sweet boy.”
It was a delight for them to hear those nicknames. They sat at either side of you and when you opened your arms they didn’t hesitate to snuggle up to you. You kissed the tops of their heads and just enjoyed being with them again. It was obvious by the sleepy looks in their eyes that you had woken them up. The door opens slowly and you manage to look over to see Bucky pop his head in. His smile is breathtakingly soft as he watches the three of you all cuddled up in bed.
“Daddy come on.” Henry patted the empty space beside him.
Bucky’s smile widened as he walked in and closed the door. He was dressed in a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants which meant that he had just woken up too. He had no problem taking up the empty spot next to his son. Instinctively Bucky’s hand finds yours, your fingers intertwine with his. Soon enough Henry starts telling you about the video games he and uncle Sam and uncle Josh played. Lottie tells you about her sleepovers with Olivia. You listen and ask all kinds of questions and for those few minutes you forget about the hell you lived through and the three months you had been separated. The four of you joke and laugh, share cuddles and kisses. Your heart feels light and it erases any memory of your nightmare.
There’s a knock on the door and when it opens it’s your dad. He informs you that your siblings are here. Reluctantly you let the kids go and got up, sitting at the edge of the bed. Henry took Charlotte’s hand and led her out to the living room, you could immediately hear your siblings greeting them.
“How are you feeling?” Bucky asked. He knew from experience that asking if someone was ok after a traumatic experience wasn’t the best way to get them to talk.
“Tired.” You murmured. “I had a nightmare, a memory really. I hate remembering.”
He shuffled around and sat next to you. Bucky’s arm moved behind you until it settled around your waist.
“I know Sugar. I hate to say it but it won’t always be easy. But I’m right here with you. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
You gave him a sad smile before resting your head on his shoulder. The two of you stay like that for a few minutes before you get up and head to the bathroom to freshen up.
****
Bucky had already joined your family in the living room. He’d advised them that you had woken up from a nightmare, that from the events that happened the day before you were probably still on edge and that it would be better to not get too excited or loud around you just yet.
“Hey.” You said as you stood at the edge of the living room. Unsure of what to do next.
“Y/N.”
Luke got up first and he made his way towards you. It was slow and cautious, almost as if he was afraid to scare a wild animal.
“Can I hug you?” He asked, although he kept his hands in his pockets instead of holding his arms out and not really giving you a choice.
“Yeah, that would be ok.”
Gently Luke pulled you into a hug and kissed the top of your head. You clung to him. The moment felt all too familiar. It brought you back to your childhood when you would get in trouble way before you had been alienated from your siblings. You realized you were crying harder than you meant to because Luke was swaying side to side and reassuring you that you were safe.
Next came Josh and Sofia, followed by Molly. All of them telling you how happy they were that you were safe. Olivia was the last to come up to you. Still shy around you but you couldn’t blame her, you had barely spent any time together.
“Hi auntie Y/N.” She says shyly, halfway hidden behind Molly’s legs.
“Hi Oli. Lottie told me you had a lot of sleepovers.” You had gone down to her level and she loosened her grip on Molly’s leg and shifted a tad bit closer.
“Yeah, she was sad a lot because she missed you.”
“I missed her too, but thank you because you kept her company.”
“I missed you too.” She reveals as she walks even closer to you. “You’re fun.”
“Yeah? I missed you too.”
Olivia is finally standing in front of you, her hands behind her back and she squirms around a bit. You play with her curls and smile at her.
“Can I hug you too?”
“I would really love a hug from you.”
She gives you a toothy grin and then her small arms wrap loosely around your neck. You pull her in and pick her up.
“Thank you for helping Charlotte and Henry while I was gone. You are the best cousin ever.” You whisper in her ear and she giggles. With a kiss to her temple you set her down.
There’s an awkward silence. You knew that they wanted to ask you about what you went through. There was no way you’d tell them. Some of it you didn’t even really remember.
“What do you need from us?” Luke asks as everyone settles down.
You blinked at him, confused at his question.
“We don’t want to overwhelm you.” Molly adds. “So whatever you need us for, we're here, just let us know.”
You nodded but you were at a loss for words. It was a lot to take in, in the last few hours. It hadn’t even been a full 24 since you were found so suddenly having so much control of yourself and freedom you didn’t know what to do.
“Shouldn’t you be meeting with Shuri?” Ed offered.
“Yeah we should. Are you ok with waiting here?”
“Of course, whatever you need.”
The information Shuri had for you was worse than you thought. There were several microchips implanted in your brain. Those along with a chemical component were being used to control you. Half of the issue was resolved when Yelena sprayed the antidote in your face a few hours ago. The other half was going to be complicated. You were going to need literal brain surgery to be completely free of hydra’s hold.
Bucky took you aside and for a while he just held you. It was overwhelming. The decisions you’d both have to make were difficult.
“Look at me Sugar.” Bucky murmurs as he pulls back. Your red rimmed eyes meet his bright blue ones. “I know it’s a lot more to ask of you. You’ve been through hell, I get it. But we have to do this. We have to go back to Wakanda and make sure those things are out of your head. I promise I’ll be right there with you. Then this will all be over.”
“What about the kids?”
Bucky sighs.
“But you just got back, you can’t leave mama.” Henry argues, he’s on the verge of tears.
“I know, sweet boy. I don’t want to go but the bad men hurt me and I have to go to Wakanda to get better like you, daddy and Lottie did.”
“But we were gone for so long.”
“Shuri thinks that it will take less time, bubs.” You tried to soothe him and run your hand up and down his arm but he pulled away.
“Why can’t we go with you? You went with us last time?”
“Bubba, mama needs to get bettuh.” Lottie speaks up for the first time. You had noticed she had been lost in thought, you’re sure she was having a vision.
“But daddy is going.”
“I’m going to be there to watch over mama during and after her treatments.” Bucky added.
Henry threw his arms around your neck and cried. He pleaded with you to take him but in reality you weren’t sure if your memory would be affected after the surgery or worse if you’d die because of it. You didn’t want either of them to see that and Bucky wouldn’t be able to watch them and take care of you at the same time. That’s what you tried to explain to Henry but he wouldn’t accept it. After going back and forth he just stepped away from you.
“Fine leave again then. I don’t care.” He all but yelled before running away, turning invisible as he did.
His reaction had you crying. He had been anxious while you were gone and now that he had you back you were leaving again. Henry’s reaction was completely understandable but it still hurt you. Lottie stood in front of you and offered you a smile. Her hair was much longer and she had it swept over her shoulder to one side as she played with the ends.
“Is kay mama. Bubba just scared. I make him not scared.”
“You’re gonna take care of him while we’re gone?”
“Mmhmm.” She nods as she places her arms and crosses them over your legs propping her chin on one of her free hands. “No be scared mama.” She taps her temple. “Mama be kay. I see it.”
You make a sound between a laugh and a sob before you pick her up. Lottie smiled at you and leaned into your chest. Leaving them again wasn’t going to be easy. In fact you were sure that the tightness in your chest had everything to do with being away from them.
****
Shuri and the Dora Milaje that stayed to protect her were already on their jet. You and Bucky would be leaving with them. There was not a lot of time from when you told the kids to when you’d actually leaving so you weren’t able to talk to Henry again. You didn’t want to leave things like that with him but the clock was ticking and you weren’t sure what hydra would be able to do to you. After you said goodbye to your family you and Bucky were at Bruce’s lab, getting some last minute information.
“This is a very awkward conversation to be having.” Bruce sighed.
“Is something wrong with Y/N?”
“No, not exactly.” Bruce cleared his throat but was going slightly red at the mere thought of having to discuss this. “I think you should um not- do certain things for the next three weeks.”
“What things Bruce?” You look at him confused. “No training or using guns?”
“No. I mean you shouldn’t do those things either.”
“Then what?” Bucky was getting irritated.
“Don’t have sex.”
You and Bucky turn to see a woman walking up to you.
“I’m sorry what? Who are you?”
“I’m Dr. Banner’s new assistant.” She offers you and Bucky her name. “I started a few weeks ago. Anyways, while running some tests on your blood samples we found high doses of medication used for fertility treatments.”
The reality of what this meant sat heavy in the air. They were preparing to use you for another winter soldier child and who knows what they would have done to you once you gave birth.
“She’s right. I’ll have Shuri monitor your levels but from now until you get back it’s best if you abstain from those activities. Unless of course you’re ready for more kids.”
“Bruce, just tell us not to have sex.” Bucky shakes his head and holds back a chuckle.
“Fine, don’t have sex. Now get out of my lab.” He chuckles. “I know you’re in very capable hands but good luck.”
“Thanks Bruce.” You also thank his assistant before heading out.
****
“So brain surgery, upset kid and now no sex. Things can only go up from here.” You tell Bucky as you sit back in the jet.
Bucky chuckles and shakes his head.
“They will. They have to.”
“I haven’t had the chance to say it but I’m glad you’ve let your hair grow out. I always wanted to play with your hair when you had it long like this.”
“You’re welcome to play with my hair as much as you want.”
You sigh and lay your head against his shoulder.
“What’s wrong, Sugar?”
You take a moment and tell him what’s bothering you. That voice in your dream and how you felt that you were supposed to recognize it. That there were things that you didn’t remember but that it was more than that, it felt that there was a wall blocking those memories. Bucky takes your hand and reassures you that everything will be ok. That most likely you just need to remove those microchips in your brain and everything will fall back into place. You can only hope that he’s right.
For days Shuri worked tirelessly to undo what hydra had done. It was difficult the first time you woke up to find out that the surgery was being done in sections. After two weeks of going between surgery and recovery, Shuri was finally done. It was complicated to say the least but it had been successful. You took one week to fully recover thanks to the serum.
****
It was a brisk night in Wakanda. The nightgown you had on did little to keep you warm but with all of the memories coming back to you it was a welcomed change. Some peace and quiet was exactly what you needed as you thought about how you would tell Bucky who had been hurting you and what you had learned and remembered.
“Sugar? Everything alright?” Bucky’s gravelly voice cuts the silence.
“Yeah, just another nightmare.”
“Mmm.” Bucky walks up and places his hands on your hips. You can feel his body warmth against your back. “Want to talk about it?”
Turning around you look up into his concerned blue eyes. You knew you had to tell him but you were scared at his reaction. Bucky pulls you into his chest, his hand running up and down your back in a soothing manner.
“I remember everything.” You mumble while blinking back tears. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“It’s ok Sugar. I know this part is difficult, remembering any part of it. Just tell me what you want, if you want too.”
“I remember the voice.” You start by saying. “I remember everything she told me, it was horrible.”
“She?” Bucky racked his brain trying to remember any high ranking female hydra officers but he couldn’t.
You pulled back to look at him, the truth was on the tip of your tongue but the weight of it kept you from talking. Bucky cupped your face and tilted your head so that you would look at him again. Your gaze was starting to unfocus and he called your name softly. One warm and one cold hand grounding you in reality. You weren’t strapped to that table anymore. There wasn’t a room full of men ripping you apart and figuring out the best way to put you back together. No, you are safe now. In the arms of the man that loved you and who might despise you in a moment.
“You’ll hate me.”
Bucky’s brows furrowed in confusion. There was a chance you weren’t coherent due to the surgery and medications.
“I could never hate you, Sugar.”
You blinked up at him owlishly while studying Bucky’s face. It might be the last time that he looked at you with so much love. With your hands wrapped around his wrists you take a deep breath. It was now or never.
“My mom.” Bucky tilts his head but waits for you to continue talking. “She’s the voice. She was the one in charge.”
You felt him stiffen.
“Your mother is hydra? Is your father? Your siblings?” A bit of panic in his tone.
You shook your head as he pulled away. He paced back and forth on the balcony.
“How? Why? I don’t understand.”
“Apparently all of the family on her side was hydra. But that’s not all.” You started crying then. Bucky stopped and looked at you.
“My great grandfather and grandfather they were both-“ you struggled to get the words out. It hurt to think that two of the people you loved the most were created at the hands of your family members.
“They what?”
You flinched slightly at the sharpness of his tone.
“They were both part of the winter soldier program and of developing the program for Henry, Charlotte and the boys.”
Bucky stared at you with slight horror. He takes a step away from you and then another.
“She was horrible. The things she told me.” You start to sob. “What she did to me as a kid was nothing compared to what she did this time.” You turn away from him and lean on the railing again. “The plans she had for me were evil. Having me hurt Charlotte and Henry was a fail safe plan. She knew it would kill me if they were hurt.” You hide your face in your hands and continue to cry over everything.
The sight of you crying over the things your family has done breaks Bucky’s heart. You flinch when you feel his hand on your back.
“Sugar, it’s over.”
“It’s not.” You shake your head. “She’s still out there. It’s not over until she’s dead.” You turn to look at him again with a pained expression. “As long as she’s alive we’ll never have peace.”
“We will. I promise you we will.”
Bucky pulls you into his chest and lets you cry until you can’t anymore. He had to put his feelings aside for the moment, this wasn’t about him and it wasn’t your fault. Deep down he knows you aren’t like the monster that your mother is, and neither is your family.
From the moment you told Henry you had to go to Wakanda he had been anxiously awaiting your return. He felt bad for not saying goodbye. It didn’t help that Charlotte called him out on ‘being mean to mama’ when you were already scared. All he wanted now was for you to come back so he could tell you that he didn’t mean it. He was scared too.
It also happened that he was sad at the thought that you would miss his first official birthday. It’s not that a party was the most important thing to him but Henry wanted to spend it together as a family.
So on the actual day no one could coax him out of his room. Not Eddie, Luke, Molly or Steve and Sam. Not even Lottie could convince him to go up to his party.
“But bubba is so nice. You habe fun.” Lottie rubbed his back in a comforting manner as he lay facing the wall.
“I don’t want to have a birthday party. You go and have fun baby.”
Lottie huffs in annoyance. “Kay.” She says as she walks out and closes the door.
A few minutes later there’s another knock and the door opens.
“I said I don’t want to go to the party.” Henry’s tone is stern.
“That’s ok sweet boy. What if we do something else, just the four of us?”
Henry sits up, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open as he turns towards the door.
“Mama, you’re back.” He says between choked sobs. Henry hops off the bed and runs into your waiting arms. “I’m sorry mama, I didn’t wanna be mean.”
“I know bubs. We were both scared.”
“I love you mama.”
“I love you too.” You kiss the top of his head and hug him for as long as he needs too. Pulling back, you cup his face with both of your hands. “Happy birthday.”
Soon he pulls away and moves to hug Bucky.
“Happy birthday bubs.”
“Thanks. Did you know they were coming back today?” Henry turns to look at Lottie who is giving him a mischievous smile.
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Is a suwpwise. Duh.” Lottie rolled her eyes.
“When did she learn how to do that?” You whisper to Bucky.
“She spent way too much time with Nat and Sofia.”
“Oh great.” You mutter. “So what do you say sweet boy, party or family hang out?”
“I don’t know. Shouldn’t you rest?”
“I had all the rest I needed for now. Besides your dad and I made sure to pick a good theme for your birthday. Are you sure you don’t want to go see it at least?”
“You picked it?” Henry asks while looking at both of you wide eyed.
“Of course. Well it was your dad’s idea. I wish I would have been able to plan it though.” You gave Henry a sad smile.
“I wanna go to the party.” He says excitedly.
“Let’s go then.”
****
As always Tony out did himself. The largest of the shared living rooms had been turned into a fully functioning arcade. All types of retro arcade games were set up around the room, one of the bars had been turned into a prize booth and even the lighting was perfect. Anything you could find in an arcade you found here and there were even some of Henry’s favorite things available too.
There were banners hanging up that said ‘gamers don’t age, they level up’. Henry was wide eyed as he looked around and found that all of his favorite people were there including Sam’s nephews and Clint’s older son. Still it wasn’t packed with people which you greatly appreciated.
“Can I go play?” Henry looked up at you and Bucky.
“Of course bubs, it’s your birthday.” Bucky nods.
“I’ll find you later. C’mon baby let’s go.”
Bucky slips a hand around your waist as you watch the kids run further into the room. He leads you a bit further in but you stop him and nod in the direction of the bar.
“What in the world is going on there?” You were referring to Steve talking with Bruce’s new assistant.
They looked like complete opposites. Steve was animated and smiling while she was a bit more guarded, a bored expression on her face. Still there was a bit of lightness in her eyes as she looked at Steve. You wondered how it started and what it was in the first place.
“Don’t worry Sugar, we’ll find out soon enough.”
“You can’t tease him about it.”
“I won’t make a promise I don’t intend to keep.” Bucky says with a chuckle.
Just then Steve turns around just to take in the room and his whole face lights up when he sees you. You watch as he excuses himself and walks over to you.
“When did you get back?” He asks as he gives you both hugs.
“A few minutes ago. We wanted to surprise Henry.”
“So I’m assuming everything went well.”
“Yeah. I remembered everything. There’s-“ you sigh, your features darkening for a moment. “There’s someone from hydra still out there.”
“You sure? We haven’t gone through all of the files yet.”
“Trust me, there’s someone missing on the list of detainees.” Bucky adds. “But we’ll worry about that tomorrow. Right now we are here to celebrate.”
You smile up at him. Although the serum had healed all of the surgical incisions your body was still exhausted from the three months of hell you lived through, the surgery and the emotional rollercoaster too. So you decided on taking it easy. You walked through the room, finding your family or the team and talking. Sitting and just enjoying being back home.
****
“I’m going to win you a prize Sugar. Pick whatever teddy bear you want.” Bucky says with a smirk.
“I want that teddy that looks like you.” You point at the stuffie that had a black and gold arm.
“You got it.”
Bucky heads to the basketball game and shoots nothing but net. He ends up getting so many tickets he can get you the bear.
“Is this how you used to woo the girls you dated back in the 30s?” You asked as you hugged the bear to your chest.
“Maybe.”
You smile and kiss his cheek. “Thanks for my new sleeping buddy. I’m sure he’ll keep me safe.”
“What? There’s no way a stuffed bear is replacing me.”
“But he’s so cute and cuddly.”
“Sugar.” He gave you a halfhearted glare.
You kiss his cheek, laughing before you disappear between some of the arcade games with Bucky grumbling behind you. Charlotte and Olivia run past you, each of them holding some cotton candy and giggling. Henry is sitting at a racing game with Sam in the seat next to him, both of them competing for first place.
“You can’t use your own hammer, Point Break.” Tony tells Thor.
“But the objective is to hit these creatures.”
“You’re supposed to wack, not obliterate.”
You chuckle and shake your head as you walk past them and find your dad hanging out in the lounge area with a drink in hand. He pats the empty seat beside him and you take it, immediately resting your head on his shoulder. After making sure you’re ok, Bucky leaves to find Steve and challenge him in a game of pool.
“How are you feeling, kitten? Do you need to go up and rest? I’m sure Henry wouldn’t mind if you went and had a nap.” Eddie said.
“No, I'm ok. As long as I’m not pushing myself physically I’ll be fine. I’ve already missed so much.”
The two of you sit there for a while just watching everyone enjoy the party. Eddie just says something once in a while but mostly you sit in silence. It was nice but it felt surreal. Now you had a better understanding of why Bucky hated crowds. The space felt suffocating, as if all eyes were on you and every whispered conversation was about you. Maybe they were waiting for you to break. But it wouldn’t happen tonight. This night was reserved for Henry and he deserved a good birthday.
****
“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you.” Everyone stood around the birthday cake which was made to look like a huge video game controller, singing.
Bucky held Lottie while you had your hands resting on Henry’s shoulders.
“Happy birthday dear Henry, happy birthday to you.”
“Blow out your candles and make a wish.” You whisper.
Henry looks back at you with a smile. An innocence you’d barely seen in him since he was rescued. There was pure joy on his face as he turned to look at his dad and sister. He turns back to the cake and blows the candles out. Everyone cheers and you kiss the top of his head. You pull him back as Molly and Wanda begin to cut the cake. Soon enough everyone has a piece.
****
“You have a mess on your face sweet angel.” You say while trying to wipe Lottie’s face clean with a napkin.
“No mama.” Lottie pulls away, sticking her tongue out to try and lick away the frosting around her lips. Then she takes another spoonful of cake and shovels it in her mouth. “Habe some, mama.” She takes another spoonful and holds it up for you.
“No thank you, baby. I already had some.”
“Is kay mama. Habe some, is so yummy.”
You huff a laugh and accept the spoonful Lottie had offered you. She smiles before turning her attention back to her slice. This was very reminiscent of the night she called you mama for the first time. She was sitting on your lap yet again with a huge mess on her face. Everyone sat around talking and having a good time. This time though, Henry sat next to you and your family was here. Memories like this is what you would cling to in order to keep the nightmares at bay.
After a while the party calmed down. People were still playing video games but the atmosphere was more relaxed. You couldn’t fight the exhaustion anymore so you went to find Henry. He was waiting his turn to play dance, dance revolution.
“Hey birthday boy.” You tousled his hair to get his attention.
“Hey mama. Do you want to play this?”
“No it’s ok. I am going to go upstairs and lay down. I’m tired.”
Henry looked at the game and back at you unsure of what to do.
“I’m not saying you have to leave the party, baby. I’m just letting you know so you don’t think I left you, ok?” You caress his cheek and smile.
“Are daddy and baby going with you?”
“No,” you shake your head. “I’m just going to lay down for a little bit. Your dad and Lottie will still be running around. I’ll try to come back down later.”
“It’s ok mama.” Henry gives you a hug. “Thank you for coming back for my birthday.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” You kiss his forehead. “I’ll see you later.”
“Ok mama.”
You watch as Henry gets up to select what he wanted to dance to before looking for Bucky. You find him with Luke, Olivia and Charlotte on the balcony. The girls were admiring the twinkling lights of the city as night fell while Bucky and Luke had a conversation. You go up to them and let them know you’re going to be leaving the party. Bucky takes your hand and gives your knuckles a quick kiss before watching you walk away.
At some point after you had fallen asleep Bucky joined you in bed. The weight of his arm around your waist and the soft rise and fall of his chest against your back brought you comfort. You couldn’t, however, fall back asleep. As quietly and quickly as you could you slid out of bed and out of the room. You needed some fresh air so you slid the door to the balcony open and stepped outside.
“Mama?” Henry asks from the door.
You turn, surprised to see him awake at whatever time it was. He walks towards you, rubbing the sleep out of his eye with the back of his hand. You open your arms for him.
“I was calling you, didn’t you hear me?” He asks as he leans into your warm embrace.
“I’m sorry sweet boy, I guess I was just thinking too much.”
“It’s ok. Why are you out here? Aren’t you cold?” Henry presses himself closer to you.
“Not really but let's go inside.”
You head to the living room and get comfortable on the couch. Henry lays down and rests his head on your lap. Immediately you start playing with his hair while he holds your free hand.
“When do you know if a birthday wish worked, mama?”
“Well I think it depends on what you wished for. If it was something big then it could take some time.” You look down at him. “Why?”
“I just want my wish to work fast.”
“What did you wish for, sweet boy?”
Henry sits up and faces you. “I wished for you to not feel scared like I was when I got here.”
“Oh baby, you didn’t have to use your wish on that. I’ll get better little by little I promise.” Henry’s revelation made you tear up just a bit.
“I know. I just wanted to help you like you and daddy and baby always help me.”
You smile at him then pull him in for a hug.
“You are helping me, sweet boy. Just by being here with me right now and giving me some cuddles.”
“I can do that.”
“I know you can. I love you so much my sweet, sweet boy.” You kiss the top of his head before getting comfortable on the couch.
“I love you too mama. I missed you so much.” Henry whispers.
“I missed you too.”
Henry ends up cuddled up on your lap. His face is buried in the crook of your neck. Soft snores fill the quiet room. Your hold on him is strong and you struggle to not think about the things he must have gone through now that you have experienced some of them.
The two of you stay on the couch until the morning when you’re woken up. Charlotte, wanting to be included in some cuddles, hopped up on the couch and found a spot on your lap before practically falling asleep again. For the next few weeks it’s the same routine. You wake up due to the nightmares and someone always finds you. The kids comfort you by cuddling on the couch, Bucky by letting you cry on his shoulder.
It was true what Bucky had said, it wouldn’t be easy but you would manage. Your life would be slightly different now but you had a reason to keep pushing forward. You had good days and you had bad days but you pushed through it all. There was lost time you needed to make up with the kids and you intended to do just that.
Ch. 33
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#My little love series#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#winter soldier#bucky fanfic#the winter soldier#dad!bucky barnes x mom!reader#girl dad!bucky barnes#Boy dad!bucky barnes#Charlotte barnes#Henry barnes#Bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes series
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Leaves from the vine
Falling so slow
Like fragile tiny shells
Drifting in the foam
Little soldier boy
Come marching home
Brave soldier boy
Come marching home
Is it Thursday yet? 💔 was drawing this and got my heart absolutely shattered by Leaves from the Vine popping into my head so…. You’re welcome? Come cry with me.
#critical role spoilers#critical role#critical role campaign 3#bells hells#Orym#orym of the air ashari#cr c3e33#c3e33#cr spoilers#leaves from the vine#little soldier boy#critical role art#angst#god dammit Matt#liam o’brien#dungeons and dragons#dnd#FCG you have to save them#I’m not crying you are
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✨ His only exception - Pt. 15/? ✨
Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.
Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader
Warnings: Language, Violence
Word Count: 6921
A/N: This is part 15 of “His only exeption”.
English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨
As the car ride dragged on, you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that hung heavy in the air. Your shoulder throbbed painfully, the blood from your wound seeping through your fingers as you tried to staunch the bleeding.
Frustration and fear boiled inside you, fueling your determination to escape at the first opportunity. So when the SUV finally came to a stop, you wasted no time in making your move.
With a surge of adrenaline, you threw yourself at the two men, unleashing a flurry of punches and kicks in a desperate bid for freedom. But despite your best efforts, they were ready for you, deflecting your blows with ease and retaliating with brutal force.
A sharp blow to the side of your head sent stars exploding behind your eyes, and you stumbled backward, dazed and disoriented. Through the haze of pain, you fought to stay conscious, knowing that your only chance lay in escaping this nightmare.
But it was no use. Another blow landed squarely on your jaw, sending you sprawling to the ground in a haze of agony. As darkness closed in around you, you fought to keep your eyes open, clinging to consciousness with all your strength.
But in the end, it was futile. With one final gasp, you succumbed to the darkness, the world fading away into nothingness as the sounds of the men's cruel laughter echoed in your ears.
As unconsciousness enveloped you, you were vaguely aware of being dragged through the underground car park, the rough ground scraping against your skin as the two men hauled you along. You were lifted, your limbs limp and unresponsive, as they heaved you into an elevator.
As the doors closed with a dull thud, the two men exchanged murmured words, their voices low and filled with an unsettling sense of anticipation.
"Feisty little thing, isn't she?", one of them remarked, a twisted smirk playing on his lips.
The other chuckled in agreement. "I do love a challenge", he replied, his tone dripping with malice.
As the elevator came to a stop on one of the top floors, the doors slid open to reveal a woman standing before them, her posture radiating authority. Ashley.
"What took you so long?", Ashley snapped, her tone sharp and impatient. "I specifically instructed you to bring her here unharmed".
The two men shifted uncomfortably under Ashley's piercing gaze. "We… we tried, but she put up a fight", one of them stammered.
Ashley's expression darkened as she surveyed the scene before her, her gaze narrowing on your unconscious form. "Well, it seems you were a little too rough with her", she remarked icily, her displeasure evident.
The men exchanged uneasy glances, realizing the gravity of their mistake. "We'll make sure she's taken care of", one of them promised hastily, his voice tinged with desperation.
Ashley's lips curled into a cold smile, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. "See that you do", she replied, her tone dripping with menace. "We can't afford any more complications".
With a dismissive wave of her hand, Ashley turned on her heel and strode away, leaving the two men to deal with the consequences of their actions.
As consciousness slowly returned, you found yourself in a state of disorientation, your senses gradually coming back to you. Blinking groggily, you took in your surroundings: a large, imposing office with polished floors and sleek furnishings.
But as you attempted to move, you realized that something was wrong. Panic surged through you as you discovered that your arms and legs were bound tightly to a chair, leaving you completely immobilized.
With a surge of adrenaline, you began to tug and strain against the restraints, desperation driving you to break free. But no matter how hard you struggled, the bonds held fast, refusing to yield to your efforts.
Frustration bubbled up inside you, boiling over into a stream of curses and expletives as you fought against your confinement. Each tug and pull only served to tighten the restraints further, leaving you trapped and helpless.
"Damn it!", you shouted, your voice echoing off the walls of the empty office. "Let me go, you bastards!".
But your cries fell on deaf ears as you continued to struggle against your bonds, the realization sinking in that escape was impossible.
As your tirade of curses echoed through the room, Ashley approached you with a calm, collected demeanor, her expression betraying no hint of concern or empathy.
"Stop moving, you're only hurting yourself", she stated flatly.
You glared at her, your eyes blazing with defiance as you continued to struggle against your restraints. "Screw you, Ashley", you spat. "Let me go, or I swear I'll—".
But Ashley merely chuckled, cutting you off with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Oh, please. Save your threats for someone who cares", she replied, her voice laced with amusement.
Your frustration reached a boiling point as you unleashed a torrent of insults and curses, each word aimed squarely at Ashley. But she remained unfazed, her chuckles only serving to fuel your anger further.
With a resigned sigh, Ashley shook her head, her lips quirking into a condescending smile. "Feisty, aren't you?", she remarked casually, as if your aggression was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
You seethed with impotent rage, unable to do anything but glare at her from your bound position.
"What the fuck do you want from me?", you demanded.
"It's not what I want, darling. It's what Homelander wants", she replied smoothly.
Your heart sank at her words, a cold dread settling in the pit of your stomach. "Homelander?", you repeated incredulously, unable to believe what you were hearing. "What does he have to do with this?".
Ashley's lips curved into a sardonic smile. "Oh, nothing much. Just a simple request to… persuade you to see things his way", she explained cryptically.
Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of her words, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. If Homelander was involved, then this situation was far more dangerous than you had initially realized.
But before you could formulate a response, Ashley began to walk away, her voice trailing behind her with a chilling finality. "Welcome to Vought, darling. I hope you enjoy your stay".
As Ashley disappeared from view, leaving you alone in the empty room, your frustration and anger reached a fever pitch. Cursing loudly, you continued to struggle against your restraints, your skin chafing and burning as the ropes dug into your flesh.
With each futile attempt to break free, the ropes bit deeper into your skin, leaving angry red welts in their wake. But despite the pain, you refused to give up, fueled by a stubborn determination to escape this nightmare at any cost.
Desperation clawed at your insides as you tugged and pulled with all your strength, the metallic taste of blood filling your mouth as the ropes cut deeper into your wrists and ankles. But no matter how hard you tried, the bonds held fast, refusing to yield to your efforts.
Exhausted and defeated, you finally slumped back in the chair, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you stared at the ceiling, feeling utterly powerless and alone.
Frenchie's hands trembled as he dialed your number repeatedly, each attempt met with the same soul-crushing silence. With each failed call, his panic grew, a gnawing sense of dread settling in the pit of his stomach.
As the minutes stretched into agonizing hours, Frenchie's mind raced with a thousand fears and possibilities. What had happened to you? Where were you? Was it too late to help?
Frantically, he searched the apartment for any sign of your whereabouts, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and frustration. But all he found was silence, broken only by the relentless buzzing of his phone as he continued to call your number.
With each unanswered call, Frenchie felt a sense of helplessness wash over him, a crushing weight that threatened to suffocate him. He had to do something, anything, to find you and bring you back safe.
But as the hours ticked by and his efforts yielded no results, Frenchie realized that he was facing an uphill battle with no end in sight.
With a sinking feeling in his chest, Frenchie dialed Butcher's number. After several rings, Butcher finally picked up, his voice gruff and impatient.
"What is it, Frenchie? I'm in the middle of something", Butcher snapped, his tone no-nonsense as usual.
Frenchie swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady despite the rising panic within him. "Butcher, it's urgent. I can't reach (Y/N)", he blurted out, the words tumbling from his lips in a rush.
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Butcher responded, his tone grudgingly concerned. "What do you mean you can't reach her? What's going on?", he demanded.
Frenchie quickly explained the situation, recounting how he had been unable to contact you for hours and the growing sense of dread that had consumed him.
Butcher's response was terse, his words clipped and to the point. "Keep trying. I'll see what I can find out from this end", he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Frenchie nodded, even though Butcher couldn't see him. "Thanks, Butcher", he replied gratefully, his relief evident in his voice.
But as he hung up the phone, Frenchie couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. He knew that time was of the essence, and that he would stop at nothing to find you and bring you back home.
With a sense of urgency, Frenchie continued to try reaching you without success, his heart sinking with each unanswered call. Determined not to give up, he turned his attention to scouring through the camera recordings of the city, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.
After what felt like an eternity of searching, just as he was about to give up hope, his eyes caught sight of a familiar figure in one of the recordings. It was you, being escorted by the two men and the ominous black SUV.
A surge of relief flooded through Frenchie as he quickly scrutinized the footage, committing every detail to memory. As he zoomed in on the license plate of the vehicle, his blood ran cold when he saw the unmistakable emblem of Vought.
Heart pounding, Frenchie wasted no time in dialing Butcher’s number once more, his voice urgent as he relayed the newfound information. “Butcher, I’ve found her. She’s with Vought”, he blurted out, his words rushed with adrenaline.
“Vought? What the bloody hell are they up to now?”, he growled, his frustration evident.
“I don´t know, but we need to act fast”, he insisted.
Butcher’s response was immediate and decisive. “I’ll send the team back. Except Soldier Boy”, he instructed.
Relief washed over Frenchie at the news, grateful for the reinforcements that were on their way. “Alright, Butcher. I’ll be ready for them”, he replied, a sense of resolve in his tone.
But Butcher wasn’t finished yet. “But Frenchie, listen to me”, he continued, his voice taking on a stern edge. “Do not, I repeat, do not go in there alone. Wait for the team to arrive. Understood?”.
Frenchie hesitated for a moment, the urgency of the situation weighing heavily on his mind. But he knew that Butcher was right. “Understood”, he replied reluctantly, knowing that it would take a few hours for the rest of the team to reach him.
Butcher's stern warning echoed in Frenchie's mind as he hung up the phone, a mixture of frustration and determination swirling within him. He knew that going in alone would be reckless, but the thought of you in danger ignited a fierce determination within him.
Taking a deep breath, Frenchie forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He needed to prepare for the arrival of the team and ensure that everything was in place for the rescue mission.
As he gathered supplies and double-checked his plans, the minutes stretched into agonizing hours, each second ticking by like an eternity.
As you struggled against your restraints, the door to the office swung open with a resounding creak, and in stepped Homelander, his presence commanding the room. His hands were clasped behind his back, and a smug smirk played on his lips as he sauntered toward you.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?", Homelander mused, his voice dripping with arrogance as he surveyed you with a mix of amusement and disdain. "Looks like Soldier Boy's little girlfriend got herself into some trouble. Again".
You bristled at his condescending tone, a surge of anger coursing through you despite your helpless situation. "I'm nobody's girlfriend", you retorted defiantly.
Homelander merely chuckled, unfazed by your bravado. "Oh, please. We both know that's not true", he replied dismissively. "But enough small talk. I have some questions for you, and I expect you to answer truthfully".
As he spoke, Homelander circled around you, his gaze piercing as he studied you with unnerving intensity. With each step he took, the sense of dread that had been gnawing at you only intensified, as you realized that you were completely at his mercy.
"Why the hell are you still alive?", Homelander demanded, his voice low and menacing, as he loomed over you.
You met his gaze with defiance, refusing to show any sign of weakness. "Maybe I'm just too stubborn to die", you shot back.
Homelander's eyes narrowed dangerously at your insolence, his patience wearing thin. "Don't play games with me", he growled, his voice tinged with frustration. "How is it that the Compound V didn't kill you, but it also didn't turn you into a supe?".
You remained silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Enraged by your defiance, Homelander's patience snapped. With a swift motion, he raised his hand and delivered a powerful slap across your face.
The force of the blow sent you and the chair crashing to the ground, pain exploding through your skull as your mouth and nose began to bleed. Through the haze of agony, you struggled to maintain consciousness, your vision swimming as you fought to keep your wits about you.
But despite the pain and the fear that threatened to overwhelm you, you refused to back down. Clinging to your defiance like a lifeline, you stared up at Homelander with unyielding resolve, silently daring him to break you.
As you lay sprawled on the ground, blood trickling from your battered face, Homelander towered over you, his expression cold and unyielding.
"Answer me", he demanded, his voice a menacing growl. "How did you survive?".
Gritting your teeth against the pain, you met his gaze. "Wouldn't you like to know?", you spat back, your voice thick with contempt.
Homelander's eyes flashed with fury at your insolence. He grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, hauling you up until you were eye level with him.
"You think you're clever, don't you?", he sneered, his grip tightening on your shirt. "But I'll make you talk, one way or another".
"Good luck with that", you retorted.
With a frustrated growl, Homelander shoved you back to the ground, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "We'll see about that", he replied ominously, turning to leave the room.
As he disappeared from view, leaving you battered and bruised on the floor, you knew that your ordeal was far from over.
As the hours dragged on, your body bore the cruel marks of Homelander’s relentless interrogation. Bruises blossomed across your skin like dark petals, and blood stained your torn clothing. Every breath came with a sharp pang of pain, and each movement sent waves of agony coursing through your battered frame.
Homelander’s attempts to extract information from you grew increasingly brutal with each passing hour. He wielded violence like a blunt instrument, striking you with merciless force and leaving you gasping for breath, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness.
But despite the physical torment, you remained steadfast in your defiance. With every blow, you gritted your teeth and endured, clinging to the last shreds of your resilience as if it were a lifeline.
Homelander’s frustration simmered beneath the surface, his attempts to break you only fueling his anger. Yet, despite his best efforts, you remained silent, your determination unyielding even in the face of such brutal violence.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of torment, Homelander paused, his cold gaze lingering on your broken form. You lay on the ground, barely conscious, your breaths shallow and ragged.
“Look at you”, he spat, his tone laced with disgust. “Pathetic. Weak. You’re not even worth the dirt beneath my boots”.
Your body screamed in agony, but you were too exhausted to muster a response. Every breath felt like a struggle, and the pain radiating from every inch of your body threatened to overwhelm you.
With a dismissive scoff, Homelander turned away from you, his attention shifting to the doctors who had entered the room behind him. “Get to work”, he ordered them, his voice cold and authoritative. “Run every test possible. I want to know everything about her, no matter how painful”.
The doctors nodded obediently, their expressions unreadable as they approached you.
As the doctors lifted you from the ground and began to carry you out of the room, Ashley appeared at Homelander's side, her brow furrowed in concern. "What happened to her?", she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.
Homelander's expression remained impassive as he glanced back at you, lying half-conscious in the doctors' arms. "She didn't want to cooperate", he replied simply, his tone tinged with annoyance.
Ashley's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied you, her curiosity piqued by the sight of your battered form. "She looks half dead", she observed.
Homelander shrugged indifferently, his gaze never leaving your prone figure. "She's tougher than she looks", he remarked dismissively. "But we'll see how long that lasts".
With that, the group disappeared through the doorway, leaving the room empty once more, save for the lingering echo of your labored breaths. As you were carried into the depths of the facility, a sense of dread settled over you, knowing that whatever lay ahead would test your resilience like never before.
Ashley's expression darkened with concern as she listened to Homelander's explanation, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. "Is that such a good idea?", she ventured cautiously, her voice tinged with doubt. "If she's Soldier Boy's girlfriend, won't he come for her sooner or later?".
Homelander's eyes flashed with irritation at the suggestion, his grip tightening on Ashley's throat as he pushed her up against the wall with brutal force. "I don't need your input, Ashley", he hissed, his voice low "I know what I'm doing".
Gasping for breath, Ashley struggled against Homelander's iron grip, her fear palpable in the air between them. "I-I'm just saying…", she stammered, her words choked off by Homelander's unyielding hold.
With a cruel smirk, Homelander leaned in close, his eyes boring into Ashley's with icy intensity. "Do you really think Soldier Boy stands a chance against me?", he taunted. "He's nothing compared to what I am".
As Homelander released his grip on Ashley, she slumped to the ground, gasping for air and rubbing her bruised throat. Trembling, she watched as Homelander strode past her, his expression cold and calculated.
Without sparing her a second glance, Homelander followed the two doctors who were carrying you, his footsteps echoing ominously in the empty hallway. As they entered the lab, the doctors carefully placed you down on a large examination table, your body limp.
Homelander approached the table with an air of authority, his eyes narrowing. "Make sure every test is conducted", he ordered the doctors. "I want to know everything about her, no matter the cost".
The doctors nodded obediently, their expressions grave as they prepared to carry out Homelander's instructions. With a sense of dread weighing heavy in the air, they began their examination, knowing that whatever they discovered could have far-reaching consequences for both you and the world beyond. And as they worked, Homelander watched on with a cold detachment, his mind already plotting his next move in this dangerous game of power and control.
"Tie her up", he ordered.
The doctors exchanged a hesitant glance, their eyes flickering with concern as they looked at your battered and broken body. "But sir, she's already in no condition to resist", one of them ventured tentatively, a note of apprehension in his voice.
Homelander's expression darkened with impatience at their hesitation. "Do it", he snapped. "She may be weak and pathetic, but she'll fight tooth and nail if given the chance. I won't take any risks".
With a resigned nod, the doctors reluctantly set to work, securing your limbs with restraints despite their misgivings. As they tightened the bonds around your wrists and ankles, you stirred slightly, a low groan escaping your lips.
Homelander watched with a cold detachment as they finished their task, his eyes lingering on your bound form with a sense of satisfaction. "Good", he declared. "Now let's see what secrets she's hiding".
With a sense of grim determination, the doctors resumed their examination, knowing that they had little choice but to carry out Homelander's orders.
With clinical precision, they extracted every possible fluid from your broken body, subjecting you to a barrage of painful tests and procedures.
Needles pierced your skin, drawing blood and other bodily fluids as the doctors worked tirelessly to uncover the secrets hidden within you. Each extraction sent waves of agony coursing through your weakened form, but you were bound and helpless, unable to do anything but endure the torment.
Homelander watched with a mixture of fascination and anticipation, his eyes alight with a twisted sense of curiosity as he awaited the results of the tests. With each vial filled with your precious fluids, he grew more impatient, eager to uncover whatever secrets lay buried beneath your battered exterior.
As the hours dragged on, the doctors spared no mercy in their relentless pursuit of knowledge, subjecting you to increasingly painful and invasive procedures. They prodded and probed every inch of your broken body, extracting tissue samples and running tests with a cold efficiency that bordered on cruelty.
Though you could feel yourself slipping further into the abyss with each passing moment, you refused to surrender, clinging to the hope that somehow, someway, you would survive this ordeal.
Meanwhile Frenchie stood anxiously outside the airport, his eyes scanning the arrivals hall for any sign of his teammates. Finally, he spotted them making their way towards him, relief flooding through him as Hughie, MM, Kimiko, and Annie approached.
"About time you guys showed up", Frenchie sighted, opening the door of the car for them.
Kimiko gave Frenchie a quick kiss on the cheek before sliding into the passenger seat, her hands moving gracefully as she signed her concern. "Did you find her?", she signed quietly, her eyes filled with worry.
Frenchie nodded grimly, his hands mirroring her serious expression. "Yeah, but it's not good", he signed back, his movements precise and deliberate. "We need to move fast".
As the car sped towards their destination, Annie leaned forward slightly from the backseat, her expression filled with curiosity. "What could Vought possibly want with her?", she asked, her voice tinged with concern.
Frenchie glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his hands still firmly on the wheel. "I'm not sure, but whatever it is, it can't be good",
Hughie nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed with worry. "Vought's always up to something", he remarked, his voice somber.
With each passing mile, the tension in the car grew thicker, the weight of their mission pressing heavily on their minds.
"Did you find Homelander in Europe?", Frenchie asked.
Hughie shook his head. "No, he wasn't anywhere to be found", he replied, his voice tinged with frustration.
Frenchie's shoulders slumped slightly, a sense of disappointment washing over him. "Damn", he muttered quietly.
MM leaned forward from the backseat, his gaze meeting Frenchie's in the rearview mirror. "Soldier Boy and Butcher are on a hot lead, though", he added.
Frenchie nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. "Does Soldier Boy know about (Y/N) being gone?", he asked carefully, his eyes flickering with concern.
Annie frowned, her brow furrowing with confusion. "I don't think so", she replied, her tone uncertain. "Why?".
Frenchie sighed, his expression grave. "We need to be careful", he warned. "If Soldier Boy finds out, it could escalate things".
Annie's brow furrowed with confusion as she glanced between Frenchie, Hughie, and MM. "But why would Soldier Boy escalate things if he found out she's gone?", she questioned, her voice laced with concern.
MM's brow furrowed as he considered Frenchie's explanation. "I get that he doesn't like being left out, but… I don´t think he would care that much on this one", he remarked.
Frenchie sighed inwardly, wishing he could divulge the full extent of the situation to his teammates. However, knowing the delicate nature of the relationship between you and Soldier Boy, he opted for a vague response. "Soldier Boy's got a temper", he replied vaguely, his tone cryptic.
Hughie leaned forward, his brow furrowed in contemplation. "You know, Soldier Boy probably cares more about taking down Homelander than anything else", he suggested, his voice tinged with conviction.
Frenchie couldn't help but snort at the remark, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. However, he quickly composed himself, realizing the seriousness of the situation. "Maybe", he replied, trying to downplay his reaction. "But let's focus on finding (Y/N) first".
Annie glanced between them, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Either way, we need to be prepared for anything", she added.
A few minutes later, the team arrived at the Vought tower, its sleek exterior towering above them like a monolithic fortress. With cautious determination, they made their way towards a hidden entrance that Annie knew from her time with The Seven.
As they slipped inside, the air was thick with tension, each footstep echoing softly in the empty halls. They moved with silent precision, their senses alert for any sign of danger.
Annie led the way, her eyes scanning the shadows for any lurking threats. "This way", she whispered, her voice barely audible as she guided them through the labyrinthine corridors.
Frenchie and Hughie followed closely behind. "Keep an eye out for security cameras", Frenchie murmured.
As the team stepped into the elevator, Annie couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her gut. The ease with which they had infiltrated the building seemed too good to be true.
Her brow furrowed in suspicion as she glanced around at her teammates. "This feels too easy", she remarked quietly, her voice tinged with concern.
Frenchie nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring her unease. "Yeah, something doesn't feel right", he replied.
As the elevator doors slid open, revealing Homelander standing before them with a menacing smirk, the team froze in shock. Their surprise quickly turned to alarm, as the realization dawned on them that their adversary was right in front of them, despite being expected to be halfway across the world.
Homelander's cold gaze swept over the team, his lips curling into a malicious grin. "Look who decided to pay us a visit", he taunted.
"You shouldn't be here", Annie retorted defiantly.
But Homelander just chuckled darkly, his gaze lingering on each member of the team with chilling intensity. "And yet, here I am", he replied, his tone filled with ominous promise. "I suggest you surrender now", he growled, his eyes flashing with lethal intent. "Or things are going to get messy".
The team exchanged tense glances, their hearts pounding with. With a surge of adrenaline, they sprang into action, their movements fluid and coordinated as they launched their attack on Homelander. Annie unleashed a barrage of energy blasts, her powers crackling with raw power as she aimed for her target with precision.
But Homelander was a force to be reckoned with, his reflexes lightning-fast as he effortlessly dodged Annie's attacks. With a flick of his wrist, he knocked her off balance and sending her crashing to the ground.
Frenchie and Hughie rushed forward, their fists flying as they attempted to overpower Homelander with sheer brute force. But the Supe was unfazed, his strength and agility unmatched as he effortlessly blocked their every blow, delivering punishing counterattacks with devastating accuracy.
Meanwhile, MM circled around behind Homelander, his mind racing as he searched for a weakness to exploit. But before he could make a move, Homelander whirled around, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto his target. With a menacing grin, he lunged forward.
The team fought valiantly, their determination unwavering even in the face of overwhelming odds. But no matter how hard they fought, they couldn't seem to gain the upper hand against Homelander's relentless onslaught. With each passing moment, the battle grew more chaotic and intense, until a doctor approached the scene, his expression tense with urgency. "Homelander, she's awake", he announced, his voice quivering with apprehension.
Homelander's eyes narrowed at the news, his attention momentarily diverted from the fight. With a growl of frustration, he turned to a group of nearby guards, his voice booming with authority. "Throw them in a cell", he commanded.
The guards wasted no time in carrying out Homelander's orders, their hands gripping the team firmly as they dragged them away from the chaotic scene.
Meanwhile, Homelander followed the doctor towards the source of the disturbance.
As they approached the room where you were being held, Homelander's pace quickened, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
As Butcher and Soldier Boy pressed forward through the desolate streets of Spain, the weight of their mission heavy on their shoulders. “Why the fuck did the other fuckers bugger off?”, he grumbled, his frustration palpable.
Butcher’s expression darkened at the question, his jaw clenching with tension. “They didn’t bugger off, mate”, he replied tersely, his voice low and gruff. “They went to rescue (Y/N)”.
Ben´s steps faltered at the mention of your name, his heart pounding in his chest. “What do you mean, rescue (Y/N)?”, he demanded.
Butcher’s gaze hardened as he met Ben´s eyes, his words heavy with significance. “Vought took her”, he explained bluntly, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
Ben´s world seemed to come crashing down around him at Butcher's words, his mind reeling with rage. "Vought took her?", he repeated, his voice trembling with anger and disbelief.
Butcher nodded solemnly, his eyes never leaving Soldier Boy's as he confirmed the grim truth. "Aye. And the rest of the team went to get her back", he reiterated, his tone steady despite the intensity of the situation.
A surge of fury surged through Soldier Boy's veins, his temper flaring as he struggled to contain the overwhelming flood of emotions. Without a word, he lunged forward, his hands curling into fists as he shoved Butcher to the ground.
Butcher hit the pavement with a grunt, the impact jolting through his body as he struggled to regain his bearings. He met Soldier Boy's furious gaze with surprise.
Soldier Boy loomed over Butcher, his chest heaving with exertion as he fought to control his rage. "You should've fucking well told me", he seethed, his voice raw with emotion.
Butcher pushed himself up onto his elbows, his expression hardening as he met Soldier Boy’s fiery gaze. “And what good would that have done, eh?”, he shot back, his voice tinged with frustration. “We’ve got bigger bloody priorities now”.
Soldier Boy’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening. “Fuck off”, he spat, his tone laced with contempt as he turned away.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”.
Ben didn’t look back as he answered. “I’m fucking going to get her back”.
Butcher quickened his pace to catch up with Soldier Boy. “Listen, mate”, he called out, his voice urgent as he closed the distance between them. “Starlight and the rest of the team, they’ll get her back. We just need to trust them”.
Soldier Boy came to an abrupt halt, his shoulders tense with frustration as he turned to face Butcher. “Trust them?”, he scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. “They’ll probably just end up fucking it all up”.
Butcher felt a surge of concern as he watched Soldier Boy’s chest start to glow , a silent reminder of the immense power that simmered beneath. “Easy there, mate”, he urged, his voice calm despite the rising tension. “We don’t need any explosions tonight”, he raised both hands.
Soldier Boy gritted his teeth, his frustration bubbling dangerously close to the surface as he struggled to contain his temper.
Ben´s jaw clenched tightly, his eyes flashing with a fierce determination. "I'm flying back, right now".
Butcher hesitated for a moment, weighing the risks of allowing Soldier Boy to act impulsively against the urgency of the situation. Finally, he nodded in reluctant agreement. "Alright", he conceded, his tone tinged with resignation. "Let's get to the airport".
As the team found themselves confined to a dimly lit cell in the depths of the Vought tower, tension hung heavy in the air. Hughie paced back and forth, his frustration evident in every restless step.
"This is bullshit", he muttered under his breath. "We were so close to getting (Y/N) back".
Annie leaned against the cold concrete wall, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she surveyed their surroundings. "We need to find a way out of here", she stated , her gaze sweeping over the barred door with a steely determination.
MM nodded in agreement, his expression grim as he assessed their options. "Agreed. But we need to be smart about it", he cautioned.
As Homelander loomed over you at the examination table, his presence casting a sinister shadow over the room, you couldn't suppress the shiver of fear that coursed through your battered body. His smirk sent a chill down your spine as he gazed down at you with chilling satisfaction.
With a cruel glint in his eyes, Homelander turned to the doctors standing nearby. "Give her the double dose of pure Compound V", he ordered.
Your heart pounded in your chest as the doctors moved to obey his command, their expressions grim with resignation. As they prepared the syringe, dread washed over you like a tidal wave.
Homelander's gaze never wavered as he turned back to you, his smirk widening into a predatory grin. "This should probably kill you", he taunted, his words echoing with a chilling finality.
As the doctors approached with the syringe filled with Compound V, your muscles tensing in anticipation of the excruciating pain to come. You gritted your teeth, bracing yourself for the inevitable torment.
The doctors injected the double dose of Compound V into your bloodstream, the burning sensation spreading like wildfire through your veins. Agony tore through you, every nerve in your body ablaze with searing pain as the powerful substance coursed through your system.
You cried out in torment, your screams echoing off the sterile walls of the lab as you writhed in agony on the examination table. The world blurred around you, consumed by the white-hot agony that consumed every fiber of your being.
Homelander watched with cold detachment. "Pathetic", he sneered.
As the potent Compound V surged through your veins, the intensity of the pain became unbearable. Your vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the edges as your consciousness slipped away once more
Since you were unconscious, Homelander returned to the team.
His grin widened as he stood in front of the cell. "Well", he taunted. "Do you lot know about your little friend's impressive talents with Compound V?".
The team exchanged wary glances.
Homelander watched the team's expressions. "You see, your friend is pretty much dead", he explained. "But somehow, she still refuses to die".
An eerie silence fell over the room as the weight of Homelander's words settled upon the captive team. Again, they exchanged fearful glances, the gravity of the situation sinking in with each passing moment.
Frenchie´s jaw clenched tightly, his fists balling at his sides as he struggled to contain his rising anger. "What have you done to her?", he demanded.
But Homelander just chuckled. "Oh, nothing that she didn't bring upon herself", he replied casually. "But don't worry, I have big plans for her".
With a cold smirk, Homelander turned and strode away from the cell, leaving the team to grapple with the chilling realization of the danger you were facing.
"We can't just sit here and do nothing", Frenchie declared.
Annie nodded in agreement, her eyes flashing with urgency as she scanned their surroundings for any potential means of escape. "We need to find a way out of here".
Kimiko signed urgently, her movements quick and deliberate as she communicated her assent to the rest of the team. MM nodded solemnly, his expression grave as he prepared himself for the daunting task ahead.
Frenchie let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping with defeat as he glanced around the cell. “But… there’s no way out”, he admitted, his voice tinged with resignation. “These cells are designed to hold in any kind of supe or human, no matter how strong”.
Annie’s brows furrowed with frustration as she considered their predicament. “There has to be something we can do”, she insisted.
Hughie and MM exchanged worried glances, the gravity of their situation sinking in. “We’re screwed”, Hughie muttered.
As you slowly stirred from your slumber, your body aching from the ordeal you had endured, you found yourself greeted by the sight of Homelander looming over you, a cruel smirk playing on his lips
The doctors bustled around you, their movements precise and methodical as they continued to run another battery of tests, their expressions a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
Homelander's patience seemed to wear thin as he observed the proceedings, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. "What's taking so long?", he demanded, his voice sharp with impatience. "I want results, and I want them now".
The lead doctor glanced nervously at Homelander before returning his attention to his work, his hands trembling slightly as he adjusted the instruments. "We're doing everything we can, sir", he assured him, his voice trembling with fear.
But Homelander wasn't satisfied with the response, his temper flaring as he turned his attention back to you. "How is she still alive?", he spat, his voice tinged with disbelief. "She's just a human. That much of Compound V should have killed her by now".
As the hours dragged on, the relentless barrage of tests and procedures continued unabated, each one more invasive and agonizing than the last.
You drifted in and out of consciousness, the pain and exhaustion threatening to overwhelm you with each passing moment. Each time you faded into unconsciousness, you prayed for the sweet release of oblivion, only to be pulled back into the waking nightmare of your reality.
With each cut and incision, you felt your strength waning, your body growing weaker and more fragile with each passing moment. Yet still, you clung to life, your will to survive burning bright even in the face of such relentless torment.
Homelander watched with a mixture of fascination and frustration, his impatience growing with each failed attempt to unlock the secrets hidden within your seemingly ordinary frame. He paced the room restlessly, his eyes never leaving your prone form as he silently urged the doctors to try more drastic measures, unwilling to accept defeat.
With a roar of anger, he lashed out at the nearest piece of equipment, sending it crashing to the ground in a shower of sparks.
The doctors scrambled to appease him, their fear palpable in the air as they desperately tried to placate the enraged supe. But nothing seemed to calm Homelander's fury, his anger consuming him like a raging inferno.
In the midst of the chaos, you remained unconscious, oblivious to the turmoil unfolding around you. Your body lay still and lifeless, the only sign of your struggle the shallow rise and fall of your chest.
With a swift and deadly grace, Soldier Boy materialized behind the doctors, his presence like a shadow in the darkness. Without hesitation, he seized each of them by the heart, ripping the organs from their chests with a sickening crunch before tossing them aside like discarded toys.
As the lifeless bodies crumpled to the ground, Soldier Boy turned to face Homelander, his eyes smoldering with a fierce intensity. “You’ve made a fucking mistake”, he growled.
———————————
A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 I can't wait to upload Chapter 16
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Part 16
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Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy @jackles010378 @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles @sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl @emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444 @seasonofthenerd @staple-your-mouth
#jensen ackles#soldier boy#soldier boy x female reader#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy x y/n#the boys#billy butcher#the boys hughie#hughie campbell#homelander#homelander x reader#homelander x you#homelander x y/n#angst#hurtful#injury
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Uncertain Grounds - Masterlist
Summary: After Herogasm, Abby meets Soldier Boy again. This time, though, he doesn’t plan on her leaving his sights again, and she realises there’s more to him than meets the eye.
Pairing: Abby (OC) x Soldier Boy
Warnings: 1970s, time skip, violence, angst, fluff. Hurt/Comfort. Smut. Overstimulation. Vaginal sex. Oral sex. Multiple orgasms. Cum play. Daddy kink. Degradation. Tension. Power Imbalance. Toxic relationship. More.
Read "Might Abby" here!
Chapter 1 on Patreon (11th of December on Tumblr/AO3)
Chapter 2 on Patreon (18th of December on Tumblr/AO3)
Chapter 3 on Patreon (25th of December on Tumblr/AO3)
Chapter 4 on Patreon (1st of January 2024 on Tumblr/AO3)
Chapter 5 on Patreon (8th of January 2024 on Tumblr/AO3)
Chapter 6 on Patreon (15th of January 2024 on Tumblr/AO3)
Chapter 7 on Patreon (22nd of January 2024 on Tumblr/AO3)
Chapter 8 on Patreon (29th of January 2024 on Tumblr/AO3)
Chapter 9 on Patreon (5th of February 2024 on Tumblr/AO3)
Chapter 10 on Patreon (12th of February 2024 on Tumblr/AO3)
Chapter 11 on Patreon (19th of February 2024 on Tumblr/AO3)
Epilogue on Patreon (26th of February 2024 on Tumblr/AO3)
. . .
"Uncertain Grounds" was fully posted on my Patreon on 2022. If you like Soldier Boy and other Jensen Ackles characters, and like the idea of having early access to my work, consider checking it out. It's just $2 a month and I promise you won't regret it. (link takes you to the public masterlist)
. . .
Tag list is open. DM me about it.
#Welldonebeca's Uncertain Grounds series#soldier boy#soldier boy fanfiction#soldier boy fanfic#soldier boy x you#the boys season 3#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy smut#soldier boy angst
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Beautiful Trauma - A Soldier Boy Miniseries: Chapter 4
Pairings: F!Reader x Ben/Soldier Boy
Summary: The reader is the real widower of Ben/Soldier Boy and loved their life together before the incident. In 1983 she took Compound V, so she could be with Ben forever, but in 1984 her life crashes to the ground, and she’s stuck in a world without him. In 2022 a knock at the door changes her life, and when she’s told that Ben is alive she hopes that there can be a forever after all.
Chapter Warnings: Antiquated views, traditional gender values, smut (p in v), SB lewdness, SB boomer mentality, language, repressed memories.
Chapter W/C: 1922
This work is unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine. If you like it, heart, and reblog it. All feedback is gold.
Ben emerged from the apartment building covered in dust but otherwise unscathed. You stood in the alley beside his fallen shield with your mouth agape. No way. No, there’s just no way.
Your husband jumped down and sauntered towards you, arms outstretched, a big shit-eating grin plastered across his face.
“I knew it, baby!” He punched the air. “I fucking knew it!”
He picked you up, gripping your thighs, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. Your hands cradled his face, thumbs stroked his cheeks, and a big dumb grin spread across your face as he spun you around.
“Look at you, with powers. Got me rock fuckin’ hard, baby.” Ben commented and ground his hard-on against your core.
A small smirk tugged your lips. Ben’s lewdness always got you going. It was ridiculous, really.
“Fuck me against the wall, Ben.”
He chuckled darkly, his hungry eyes eating you up. “Yes, ma’am.”
Arms wrapped around his neck, his plump lips drew yours in, sucking your full bottom lip. His hands squeezed your ass, pulling you against his tented sweats, and Ben pushed you against the bricks harshly. The wall cratered and crumbled beneath you.
The first time should have been at home in your marital bed or even on the couch. Definitely not against a brick wall in some seedy New York back alley. But that was Ben. He wasn’t prudish about his exploits.
Ben fished himself out of his sweats and yanked your leggings down, along with your panties, and mumbled something about loving elastic.
The very first punch of his cock knocked the breath outta you and had your walls stretching to accommodate his girth. The first slide home had you moaning into the air, gripping his blue Giants jersey, and Ben’s guttural grunt landed in your ear.
“Fuck, you’re tight. Relax that pretty pussy for me.”
At his words, your pussy fluttered, easing the grip you had on him.
“There you go. Gonna be better than that dumb fucking toy in your drawer.”
Ohhhh fuck.
“Fuck me, Ben. Please, just fuck me,”
“Woah, look who’s got a filthy mouth now?”
A moan elicited from you as he pulled back and bottomed out. His hips snapped into you, setting a hard and fast pace.
“Fuck. So wet, you’re coating my cock.” His forehead dropped on your shoulder.
With every thrust, he filled you completely. He was so warm, and hard. You could feel the beat of his heart in your core as he pulsed. Every ridge, every vein, with every slide and stroke he sparked sensitive nerve endings, and you held on as that familiar heat gathered in the pit of your belly.
“Oh, God, Ben.”
“Oh, yes, baby. Fucking gush all over my cock”
Ben fucked into you harder. A few more thrusts, and he had you exploding around him. He had you calling his name, worshipping him as he fucked you through your orgasm, and once it subsided, you sagged against him, desperate to catch your breath.
Ben’s cock lazily stroked inside you as you rested your head against the crumbling bricks.
“You really needed that, huh?”
Sated, with a dopey smile on your face, your fingers trailed through his hair.
“You bet, Sunny.”
Ben stared at you, and you feared you’d said something wrong as his ministrations had paused.
“The first time you called me that was after consummating our marriage.”
You nodded. “I remember. Short for sunlight. Seemed appropriate. Even more so now…” You trailed off, fingers circling his chest.
He snapped up into you, and your hand pressed hard against the centre of his chest, fingers gripping his shirt, your eyes fluttering shut, and a soft groan slipped from your lips. Ben hauled you against his chest and fucked you once more against the brick wall.
He made you cum, and his sweet nickname fell from your lips, eliciting his own release. Hot streams spurted inside you, painting your walls white.
“Fuck, woman, I’m gonna stuff you so full of my babies. Just you wait.”
*
When Ben’s old manager opened PH4, the repressed emotions flooded back. You had called and called, desperate for an answer, desperate for the news not to be true, and each time you were prompted to leave a voicemail. You begged and pleaded down the answering machine but you never received a call back.
The Legend took in the soot on your cheeks, dust covering your hair and the torn clothes and you both sported, and his eyes widened in response.
“Fuck happened?”
“Building exploded.” Was all Ben said.
“Fucking hell. You both look like shit.”
“Nice to see you too.” Ben huffed and barged in.
You followed Ben, marvelling at the space and oppulence of the place.
“You got your suit. What more do you want?”
“A place to stay.”
The door closed as you wandered around the penthouse, viewing all the photos of him with famous people. This fuck cared more about his appearance than anybody else. He pretended to give a shit about the normal and mundane people he encountered – like you – but you understood better than anybody else what a lying sack of shit he was when he left you empty-handed, screaming into the void for answers.
“Sure, sure. I’ll hook you up. What happened to your apartment?”
“It exploded.”
“Well, shit.”
Ben sat down and waved you over, but you couldn’t sit. You stood there staring at the wall of photos, thoughts plaguing your mind. You had questions you wanted – no, deserved answers to. Mainly why he ignored all your calls and where your daughter was. If there was anybody that knew, it would be him.
You heard the ice clink into the tumblers and the snapping of fingers to grab your attention.
“Y/N, sit the fuck down. Get her a drink, would ya.”
“The fuck do I look like to you? A waiter?”
“Just do it.”
Of course, this was the first place Ben thought of. This guy used to be the VP at Vought when Ben was in his prime superhero days in Payback.
“Why didn’t you answer any of my calls?” You asked out of nowhere, eyes still fixed on the wall of photos.
“Calls?”
That familiar churning of rage burned in your chest, and you spun around to confront him directly.
“Don’t you play fucking dumb with me. I called you, desperate for answers, but you never answered. You left me in the dust. And I had to go on knowing nothing. Do you have any idea what it was like living day to day with the knowledge that Ben was dead?”
You waited for an answer but got nothing.
“I’ll tell you. It’s fucking awful. It’s like permanently being in one of Mindstorms fucking nightmares.”
Sensing danger, Ben stood, moving towards you.
“You chose to ignore me. You purposefully let me believe because you didn’t want to deal with a hysterical grieving woman.”
“I had no idea! I knew just as much as you did!”
You doubted that.
“You’re a lying sack of shit! A coward whose nose is jammed so far up Vought’s asshole. You couldn’t care less about anyone but your damn self!”
“Babe, another time.” Ben urged calmly. He tugged at your shirt for you to follow him, but you smacked his hand away.
“You let Payback take my baby. Didn’t you?”
Ben stilled beside you and turned to face the old VP.
“No! I had no idea about that.”
“You’re lying!”
His eyes flicked to Ben, who stood beside you. “You need to control your girl.”
“Fuck you!” You spat.
“I don’t have to listen to this. Ben, get her out of my sight.”
You weren’t going anywhere, not without getting answers first. And before Ben could pull you back, you stormed up to The Legend, demanding, “Where’s my daughter!”
He blanched. Here was this short lady getting in his face, challenging him.
“I don’t know.”
You grabbed his shirt and pulled him down, pushing your face into his.
“Where the fuck is my daughter?”
“Y/N. Stop.” Ben urged again.
He made the mistake of putting his hand on your shoulder, but you held him off, hand on his chest. Ben stood puzzled, but when he looked down, he deadpanned.
You watched The Legend watch Ben attempt to pull you away with no success.
“I won’t ask again, so why don’t you tell me what you know.”
He sighed in defeat. “I only heard down the grapevine after Payback disbanded. That’s the truth. I heard she was staying with Mallory.”
“Mallory? Who the fuck is that?”
“Fucking Captain Lesbo.” Ben huffed behind you.
You turned to Ben, loosening your grip on The Legend. He managed to pull himself free, muttering something about “keeping his woman in line.”
“Tell me who she is.”
“Worked with her in Nicaragua. Can you believe it, they put a woman in charge? Probably why everything went to utter shit. Last I heard, she worked for the CIA – Hey!!”
You walked out of The Legend’s penthouse, intent on finding this Mallory woman.
“Get back here, woman!”
A hand pulled you back inside and slammed you against the shut door. Ben rested his hands on either side of your head, trapping you.
“If you’re wanting to find Mallory, you’re gonna need a plan. You can’t just go out there with no fucking clue, hoping to get lucky. What were you planning on? Storming the CIA?”
“I just want to find our daughter, Ben.”
His expression softened. “I know. And I have a feeling Butcher knows just where to find her, but that’s a job for tomorrow. Today, I wanna chill with my girl.”
“You soppy bastard.” You said, a smile forming as your fingers trailed through his hair.
“You guys make me puke.” The Legend grunted.
*
Head resting on Ben’s shoulder cuddled up to him, he had the remote in hand, legs spread as you both sat on the fancy sofa watching daytime tv on The Legends huge screen. A loud noise coming from your pocket interrupted the cosy atmosphere.
You pulled the phone from your pocket. It was just an old Nokia. Simple enough for your needs. The tiny thing blared at you, the screen bright with MEDS unblinking at you. Beside you, Ben reached for the phone.
“The fuck is that? Jesus, turn it off.”
You silenced the phone, and his large hand snatched the device from you. Ben turned it over and over in his hands, pressing buttons. His brow furrowing, creases deepening the further annoyed he got.
“It’s a phone.”
“A phone? That ain’t no phone. Looks like something I’ve seen in your sock drawer. What’s this meds thing? Are you a pill-popper now?”
You reached for the device, but he held it out of reach.
“Chronic depression is—”
“Depression? You don’t need pills for a little bit of sadness.”
You’d expected this reaction from Ben, but it stung nonetheless.
“Please, Ben, I need them. We have to go to the pharmacy.”
He waved his hand dismissively.
“I’m here now. Whatcha gotta be depressed about?” He turned to you and gripped your chin, fingers spreading your lips. “Where’s your smile, baby. Show it to me. That’s all you need.”
Without your medication, you were likely to deteriorate. Later, tomorrow… you couldn’t say how you’d be feeling. But you smiled weakly for him. Perhaps he was right, and you didn’t need them? Maybe it was just him you needed, but deep down, you weren’t so sure.
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#beautiful trauma#julesthequirky's fics#julesthequirky#julesthequirky's stuff#ben#soldier boy x you#soldier boy#soldier boy reader insert#soldier boy smut#soldier boy angst#Soft ben#the boys#reader insert#soldier boy fanfiction#soldier boy x y/n#Sunfish writer#The Ocean
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