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xlynnbbyx · 3 days

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Wayne I will say this now don’t you dare break my heart here! I don’t want a bitter sweet ending I can’t do that again! Cause damn it these two need to be happy together!! Now let’s discuss this chapter!

Dean losing his drugs should be a sign he doesn’t need them anymore! Of course Jo was the one that took the drugs! I wanted to hit Jo for breaking her ankle cause we definitely know it was on purpose. Dean being jealous of Benny is cute and funny. I was like damn it Dean she loves you not Benny reel it back in! The way Dean cares for her is very swoon worthy she is definitely his better half. She just needs to admit she loves him already! Crowley just ignoring what Dean was doing to Dick’s car was brilliant. Although I wish Dean would have cut his balls off and roasted them on an open fire! But what got me here is Cas coming into the hospital room excited about markers. 😂 I can’t wait to see what happens next! Can’t wait to see these two get their happy ending!!

Plastic Hearts – Part 22

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, injuries, hospitals, jealousy, drug use, angst, smoking everywhere 'cause it's the 80s, girl fights, a whole lot of FLUFF

Word Count: 6.9k

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all your comments last week! So happy to bring these two idiots back to your screens of choice and give them an ending they deserve! Now, buckle up! We have some bitchy moments in this one 👀😇

<< 21 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

22. Girls, Girls, Girls

The gym smells of blood, sweat, and tears tonight. More so than ever before. The tensions run high.

It’s the first live taping since the show’s official cancellation. The first three matches have already run their course, the rest of the women joining Dean in his office, using the platform as the perfect viewing room. It’s like an NFL suite at Super Bowl. Everyone’s drinking, celebrating, and has gathered here to watch the biggest match of the night:

Red Sparrow vs. Liberty Bell

Usually, the green-eyed director would be bothered by the constant chatting, shrieking, and yapping. But tonight, he could care less as he passed the director’s crown on to his spawn, leaving Claire to man the booth and direct the show on her own, putting her AV skills to the test.

After all, the show’s already canceled. What’s the worst that could happen? Might as well let a rebellious teenager call the shots. Who gives a shit! Isn’t it awesome to be this carefree?

“Can you guys keep it down?” Claire hisses with an annoyed roll of her eyes, her shoulders tense with stress as she tries to concentrate on the monitors. “I’m trying to direct a show here! I can’t fucking hear anything!”

Amused, Dean chuckles. Now, his daughter finally knows what it’s like to be in his shoes. He’s tried telling everyone for ages that these women are fucking annoying and that being a director ain’t easy.

While the women are busy talking up a storm and pay attention to the match, Dean sneaks to his desk and opens the first drawer. He pulls out his pack of cigarettes, but it’s not a smoke he’s in the mood for. To his surprise and shock, however, the little bag of white powder he hides in there is gone.

Did he put it somewhere else?

Frantically, he starts opening every drawer, moving stuff in and out of them. He rummages through his folders on his desk, sees if he placed it there somewhere, but it’s nowhere to be found. His green eyes then dart to his kid and an eerie feeling settles in his stomach. Surely, Claire didn’t take it, right?

Like father, like daughter, it echoes through his mind.

He always loved the fact that his kid was so much like him – the love for good movies, the humor, the sass, the sheer unabashed talent. But not in that regard. God, does he hope she didn’t inherit his drug addiction, too.

“Claire?” Dean knows he has to be careful in his questioning, not wanting to alert the other women in the room to the pressing issue. But his daughter skillfully ignores him, too focused on her current task. “CLAIRE?!” he barks loud enough to rattle the entire office.

Yeah, okay, that wasn’t as smooth and inconspicuous as he had hoped, but he’s fucking panicking on the inside, alright? He has entered worried dad mode.

Don’t act so fucking surprised, okay? He has evolved like man is supposed to do.

In all honesty, Dean wanted to get completely clean two weeks ago. As soon as Y/N waltzed into his office and slept with him, he swore he’d never touch the toxic and nasty stuff again. He was done, and this time, it’d be final. No going backsies. But he had one teeny-tiny baggy left, and well, he hates to be wasteful. So, his plan was to slowly stop and keep the withdrawals at a minimum. And it worked great so far. It hasn’t snowed in four fucking days.

“What?!” his kid grunts back, audaciously annoyed.

“Did you snoop through my drawers and take my smokes out?” Dean asks her in his best dad voice. He’s gotten quite good at it since he practiced it over the last few weeks.

Do your homework!

Eat your vegetables!

Tell that fucking boyfriend of yours to stop sneaking in through the window, or I’ll get my gun!

“No, I don’t smoke!” Claire huffs without missing a beat and doesn’t take her eyes off the monitors even once.

Dean believes her. Usually, when she lies, there are a few seconds of thinking that pass by before she comes up with a reasonable excuse. Not that he buys any of them, but whatever. This time, though, she answered right away, and he knows she has no idea what he’s even talking about.

So, did he misplace it? You’d think he’d be more careful with drug storage, but sometimes it’s a glass of whiskey too many, and stuff gets lost. Did he leave it in the car? Is it at home?

But then it dawns on him. Joanna.

The blonde storms into his office, forcing the director to look up. Her mascara is smeared across her cheeks, her hair disheveled and overall she seems upset and out of breath.

“I need my own goddamn dressing room,” Barbie demands. “I can’t get ready and in the right head space with all of these women down there. I’m the star of the show. Some of us need peace and quiet to wash the shit of the world from us before they have to fucking perform!”

“Whoa, whoa, easy, alright? Sit down,” Dean tells her calmly and gestures to the seat in front of him, where the blonde immediately plops down with an exhausted huff. “You can get ready in my office tonight, okay? You want a drink? You look like you need one.”

Jo nods with a sniffle and accepts the flask he’s offering her, almost downing the whole thing.

“What’s going on? You good?” Dean checks. Usually, he wouldn’t care about the blonde’s feelings, but since she’s up against Y/N tonight, he wants to assure himself nothing goes wrong.

“Yeah, it’s just… Sam.” She scoffs and takes another swig. “He’s got a new girlfriend. His secretary, Jessica.” The blonde rolls her eyes at the name. “Who knows how long he’s been fucking her. Our divorce isn’t even final.”

Dean nods understandingly as he rises from his chair and pats the blonde’s shoulder. “I know. Divorce is shitty. You’ll get through this. Trust me.”

“Shit…” Dean mumbles.

He left an emotionally vulnerable woman alone in his office with a bunch of booze and drugs. How could he be this stupid and reckless? He doesn’t even suspect Jo took the coke on purpose. She was probably looking for a smoke and stumbled upon it, thinking, “What the hell? My day is already shit, maybe this makes it better.”

Dean knows because it’s usually what he thinks as well when he’s at his lowest. How do you think he got addicted to drugs in the first place, huh?

Here’s how: two divorces and a failing career.

“Boss?”

“Dean?!”

“Dad!”

The green-eyed director snaps out of his thoughts and turns to the room full of women upon their calling, all of them looking quite panicked and worried. It’s like a fox got loose in the coop.

His brow furrows as he approaches the booth and big windows, trying to see where the concern is coming from. “What? What’s going on?”

“I think there’s something wrong, boss,” Donna informs him. “That’s not the fight they’ve practiced during training. They’re going off script.”

Fucking shit…

“Dean, what the hell is going on?” Billie cocks an eyebrow at the director, but he can’t get himself to focus or reply as his green eyes are glued to the match downstairs.

Dean’s too cynical to believe in a God and has certainly never prayed before, but tonight he can’t help it and utter a quiet prayer, hoping for a goddamn miracle.

His heart is racing as he watches the match unfold. There’s nothing he can do about it. Nothing can stop it. It’s like watching a fucking car crash as a bystander on the sidewalk.

Looking at Y/N’s face, he can see that she’s panicking as well and getting scared. It breaks his goddamn heart. The actress tries to talk to the blonde and get through to her but to no avail. Killer Barbie is on a mission, and her target is clearly Y/N.

And then, it all happens fast. Jo throws Y/N onto the mat and grabs her leg, raising it up by the ankle. There are tears in Y/N’s eyes before an audible crack echoes through the gym. Y/N screams out in pain. Jo drops her foot and backs away in shock, hands high in the air. The entire gym becomes mum, only a few quiet gasps uttered by the audience bounce off the tall walls.

Dean’s heart is about to explode as he bolts down the stairs and almost takes a fall. He hasn’t even reached the ring yet and assessed the damage, but he already blames himself. This is all his fucking fault. Donna warned him, and he didn’t listen. Y/N was obviously not fine, and neither was Jo. How many goddamn warning signs did he choose to ignore? And for what? For fucking ratings no one even cares about?

Y/N’s agonizing scream rings in his ears as the director makes his way to her. Rufus is already there in his referee costume, trying to help her as best as he can. Dean’s so close he can practically count the steps to the ring. Has this gym always been this huge? It feels like he’s been running a mile.

But then, he’s abruptly stopped by Cas’ announcer voice and what his green eyes find unfolding in front of him.

“And here comes a camera guy to save our Russian warrior!”

Oh hell, no!

Dean should probably be glad that someone is helping her and not let his jealousy win. But does that someone really have to be fucking Benny of all people? The green-eyed director truly thought he was done worrying about that guy. Now, however, he has to watch that douchebag heroically carry Y/N out of the ring while the audience cheers and claps.

It’s his worst goddamn nightmare. Well, that and Y/N getting hurt in the first place.

“Put her down,” Dean demands fiercely as he faces Benny, his blood boiling as he watches the actress hold on to the guy’s neck and wince in pain. A bit of guilt mixes with his jealousy at that.

Don’t be an asshole. Focus, he reminds himself. Y/N’s more important than your fucking ego.

“What? No,” Benny denies his request with a confused and irritated frown.

“That’s an order,” Dean grits boldly.

“I don’t care. She’s hurt,” Benny snaps back with emphasis and acts like Dean doesn’t know what that means. “Fucking fire me if you have a problem with that. The show’s done anyways.”

That fucking little prick…

Dean purses his lips in frustration. What is he supposed to do now? Rip her from the guy’s arms? Start a fist fight?

“I can take her. I’ll drive her to a hospital,” the director insists with a little more reasoning.

“Let’s take my limo! There’s enough space for her,” Ruby chimes in as the whole pack of women flock to the rescue and worryingly gather around Y/N.

Great. More helping hands is what Dean needs right now.

“No, we’re taking my car,” Dean maintains, trying to remain calm amongst the concerned chatter. “Baby’s backseat got plenty of space, alright?”

“True,” Bela agrees with a dirty smirk.

Dean sighs, Billie rolls her eyes, and Y/N frowns at that. Dear God, these fucking women…

“How about we ask Y/N what she wants, huh?” Dean proposes, knowing the actress will surely pick him. God knows she’s picked him yesterday all night long…

Benny smiles as if he could win this battle. “Fine.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, what d’you want? Who do you wanna go with, huh?” Dean asks, lowering himself down to her with a gentle look in his eyes and a warm, caring smile.

“I don’t care!” Y/N whines with pained features and a high level of annoyance. “I just wanna go to a hospital! Any hospital in any car.”

Fair enough, Dean thinks dejectedly. Still, she could’ve done him a favor and picked him. He hates losing to a fucking camera operator.

“My limo it is!” Ruby exclaims and bolts ahead to the parking lot, keys jiggling in the air.

With a triumphant smirk, Benny turns and follows Valley girl outside, Dean swallowing down the urge to punch the guy as Y/N throws him an apologetic look over camera guy’s shoulder.

These fucking women…

Dean has floored the gas pedal of the Impala, but it’s fucking LA, so an hour was spent standing in traffic on the freeway. Moreover, he had to gather Claire and Cas as well and check on Jo, while Benny and the girls were already at the hospital with Y/N.

When Dean finally arrives, he rushes through the glass doors into the waiting area of the emergency room, Cas and Claire on his heels. His group is easy to spot, considering they’re all still in their fucking wrestling costumes.

His hands ball into fists when he sees Benny holding an ice pack to her injured ankle as she sits in a wheelchair, the girls scattered around Y/N on creaky hospital seats as they keep her company. He hates that camera guy is taking care of his girl. It should be him by her side, not some fucking footnote in this story.

“Hey, what the fuck is going on? Why is she still waiting?” Dean asks furiously, charging in full-throttle. His heart is burning for Y/N, and nothing can extinguish it.

Hell, if she isn’t getting help soon, he’ll burn this goddamn hospital down.

“Because she’s not a gunshot wound?” Ruby answers wryly, earning her glare.

But Dean supposes party girl has a point. It’s an LA hospital in a bad neighborhood.

“Want me to lick your wound? Saliva helps with blood clotting,” Meg offers as she holds Y/N’s hand tightly.

“She’s not even bleeding,” Cassie counters with a raised brow.

“She might be bleeding internally,” Meg argues and places her palm on Y/N’s forehead, taking her temperature.

“Stop it! You’re freaking her out,” Charlie scolds from the seat behind her.

“Why is this taking so long? My friend is in pain! Do you hear me?” Meg whines, calling to the nurses’ station.

Why are girls so exhausting? That question has been running around Dean’s mind for months now. He’s still lacking an answer.

Ignoring the female turmoil around him, Dean lowers himself down in front of Y/N and finds her eyes, smiling gently. “Hey, sweetheart. How are you doing, huh?”

“Dean!” Y/N smiles broadly when she recognizes him, her face lighting up and beaming brighter than the fluorescent lights above her. It warms his heart.

The director’s head then tilts slightly, inspecting her closer. She seems awfully chipper for someone in pain. Her pupils are gigantic, too.

Ruby leans in and whispers, “I gave her a Valium… and then half a Klonopin.”

Ah. There it is. She’s fucking high. That explains it.

Dean reaches out his hand and caresses her pink cheek, feeling her lean into his touch. “You feeling good, sweetheart?”

“I’m awesome,” she replies with a drowsy giggle.

He grins. “Yeah, I bet you are…”

Is it weird he’d like to fuck her in this state? Right, probably not a good time to ask those questions. (But he swears he wouldn’t take advantage of her. Just play with her and test her senses a little.)

“You’re so pretty,” Y/N tells him dreamily, making him blush hard as she touches a few strands of his hair and plays with them.

“And the first pill is kicking in,” Ruby notes, amused.

A nurse then finally walks into the waiting room with a tired gleam in her eyes and clears her throat to catch everyone’s attention. Dean can’t blame her. He knows it’s like a fucking circus in here.

“Good news. We have a bed ready, so I’ll take her back and all of you can leave?” the nurse explains and looks at the wolf pack hopefully.

Meg stares her dead in the eyes and replies flatly, “Not a chance.”

Yeah, Dean could’ve told that nurse those girls weren’t going anywhere.

Benny rises from his position and attempts to push Y/N’s wheelchair, following the nurse. But Dean will be damned if he lets him. Provocatively, he pushes the camera guy aside and scowls at him, making his territory and claim clear. The girls aren’t the only wolves in this waiting room.

“I got her. You can leave,” Dean growls with a deathly stare. “My show, my actress. I’m the director, and she’s my fucking responsibility, got it?”

Benny raises his palms in surrender and takes a step back. He already knew he lost when Y/N only had eyes for Dean as soon as the director showed up. A pill-high never lies.

The nurse helps Y/N into a bed in a small, quiet room. As they wait for a doctor, Dean impatiently paces the room, fuming away on his smoke. If you can’t tell, he’s far away from relaxed.

A man in a white coat with a friendly smile then finally strolls in and introduces himself. “Hello there, Y/N Y/L/N. I’m Dr. Gabriel Piccolo. Are you with the circus?”

Dr. Sexy, as Dean refers to the guy, lifts an eyebrow at Y/N’s unusual costume. You’d think as a doctor at a hospital in Hollywood, he’d see more people like this.

“I’m an actress on a wrestling TV show,” Y/N replies, not offended by his question in the slightest.

“Oh, uhm, I’ll have to watch it,” Dr. Sexy says politely and then gets straight down to business, cocking his head at her injured leg. “Okay, so left ankle. We’re gonna have to cut off this boot.”

“Oh! No, no, no. Sorry, these are important.” Y/N protectively throws herself over her knee-high army boot.

Dean sighs a little. Even high on pills and in unbearable pain, Y/N still prioritizes her silly job. “Alright, Doc. I got it,” the director relents and shoots the man a look.

Carefully, Dean unties her laces, loosening the shoe enough. “I’m gonna go slow, sweetheart. Just take it easy, alright?”

Dean flashes her a smirk and watches as she bites down on her lower lip, nodding. She inhales sharply and whimpers when he slips the boot off her foot. His fingers smooth over her leg, soothe the skin, and elicit a shudder from her. He can tell the action turned her on, can see the goosebumps rise on her arms as she presses her thighs together. He can practically hear her drip.

He smirks devilishly. Y/N sends him a knowing frown.

Dr. Sexy clears his throat and interrupts their heated moment, causing Y/N’s cheeks to flush furiously.

The doctor then assesses her ankle. It’s swollen and the skin a purplish-blue. Dean knows it doesn’t fucking look good. He guesses it’s not a simple sprain.

“Can you feel your toes? Can you wiggle them?” the doc checks. Y/N does as asked and moves her toes as best as she can. It’s not much though before she winces in pain. “How does that feel?”

Dr. Sexy touches the swell on her ankle, and Y/N squeezes her eyes shut and locks her jaw, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Fucking hurts,” she grits through strained teeth.

“Okay, we’re gonna take some X-rays. See what we’ve got,” the doc finally says and disappears out of the room.

Y/N exhales an exhaustive breath and looks at the director. “Distract me,” she prompts with desperate eyes.

“Well, I’m not gonna be my regular chipper self,” Dean quips, making her laugh. He smiles, too, and leans in closer. “How about this?”

He wiggles his eyebrows and then dips his head, claiming her lips in a blistering kiss that makes her legs quiver. His tongue slips inside her mouth, swipes deep as teeth scrape her lower lip. Upon her first moan, he draws back with a smug smile.

He leans close to her ear, whispering against her shell, “You know if curling your toes didn’t hurt, I’d make you come so fast on my fingers right now, baby girl.”

Her eyes widen. She gasps and gently hits his arm in a scolding manner. “Dean!”

“What?” He chuckles and pecks her crown. “It’ll be alright. Don’t worry so much, okay?”

The girls then soon flood the room, one by one providing endless entertainment that surely no other patient at this hospital receives. Y/N’s a fucking star here, although she always is to Dean.

First, there was Claire, who practically emptied the vending machine, buying sweets and snacks for every taste (with Dean’s money). He’s nothing more than a wallet to that girl.

Meg, on the other hand, stole more pillows and blankets from other patients, making sure Y/N was as comfortable as possible. Ruby read Cosmopolitan to her and filled out the magazine’s sex quiz, intriguing Dean a lot.

Every girl pretty much brought their unique sense of entertainment, making Y/N laugh and smile so much she almost forgot why she was here. Only one woman was missing from the wolf pack – Joanna.

As Y/N is finally wheeled away to her X-rays, Dean decides to join the other women in the waiting room. He’s more than happy to discover that Benny actually left when he can’t catch sight of the guy anymore.

Guess the director is the true winner, after all.

Donna then approaches Cas, who’s nervously sucking on a cigarette in the corner by the vending machine, and hands him a clipboard with a hospital form.

“Y/N doesn’t have insurance, and we don’t know what to fill out,” the blonde tells him and meekly saunters back to her seat.

Cas frowns and looks at the women in disbelief. “How could she not have insurance? She’s a professional wrestler.”

Billie arches a sarcastic eyebrow at that and replies wryly, “Yeah, employed by Novak Productions, who doesn’t provide health care.”

Cas swallows guiltily and purses his lips. “How many of you don’t have insurance?”

Almost every woman in the room raises their hand, except for Jo, Billie, and party girl.

That tracks, Dean thinks and is not the least bit surprised. Judging by Cas’ shocked expression, though, this revelation clearly shatters the privileged rich boy’s world.

The producer nods earnestly. “This is my responsibility, and I will take care of it,” he promises. Dean gives him a pat on the back, letting Cas know he’s doing the right thing. If the producer hadn’t footed Y/N’s bill, Dean surely would have.

The director then glances around the waiting area, noticing the sad faces and depressed mood. “Alright, she’s not dying, okay?” he tells them and catches their attention. “You guys did a great show tonight. Why don’t you go back to the motel?”

“Great?” Donna cocks a brow at his word choice. “We were amazing.”

Charlie looks up at him, a hopeful look in her eyes as her red hair shimmers in the fluorescent light. “You think we get our old time slot back, Dean?”

Dean smacks his lips, scratching the scruff on his chin. He then shakes his head. He can’t lie to them. Knowing what he knows, he also knows it’s over. “No, I don’t. I think we’re gonna die at 2am… But we’ll die on our own terms, alright?”

Nodding, Ruby sighs loudly. “I’ll drive everybody home. And then, we get drunk while we ice our knees.”

As the girls start to gather their belongings and rise from their seats, Jo rushes through the glass doors. The women punish her with little glares on their way out. No one buys it was an innocent accident. In fact, Dean’s pretty sure the wolf pack believes the blonde tried to murder their beloved leader.

Dean, however, doesn’t.

“She’s in room 3,” he tells Jo without further comment.

The green-eyed director didn’t know what he had expected when he sent Joanna into Y/N’s room. Maybe that they’d talk like adults, get it all out in the open, and finally make amends. Be best friends again.

But maybe that was a little naive of him.

It all started out innocently. Dr. Sexy entered the room with a set of X-rays and left happily a few minutes later. Meanwhile, Dean and Cas smoked in the hospital’s corridor and drank the most awful-tasting coffee out of plastic cups.

Then, the mood started to shift. The guys could hear the girls arguing with slightly raised voices, just loud enough for it to drown out into the hallway.

“Eight to ten weeks? It’s not that long,” Jo could be heard saying.

“It’s the rest of the season. I won’t be on the show,” Y/N threw in through gritted teeth. Dean could hear the upset in her voice.

Jo scoffed, brushing it off. “Well, we’re getting canceled anyways, so… It’s just a job, you know.”

“No, it’s not!” Y/N’s voice went up a notch in volume. Dean knew she was close to reaching a boiling point. This wasn’t good.

“Okay, geez, you don’t have to lash out at me. I did not mean to break your ankle, okay?” Jo countered, pushing all blame off her.

“I don’t fucking believe you!”

And that was the turning point. That’s when the yelling started. The one that could be heard throughout the hospital, spilling into every room and probably several floors.

“No, no, no…. See, that was an accident, Y/N,” Jo says with a jittery voice. “Unlike the time you accidentally fucked my husband! TWICE!”

“You made out with my prom date on prom night!”

“That is not the same thing, and you know it!”

“Oh? Is it the same thing when you hooked up with your co-star at your stupid soap wrap party one week before you got married? And coincidentally, Sammy was born nine months later! Is he even Sam’s? ‘Cause he looks a whole lot like what‘s-his-face!”

“How dare you!”

“You didn’t even love Sam! You only married him for his money!”

“You don’t have the fucking right to say anything about my marriage!”

Cas swallows down a big gulp of coffee, sharing a nervously concerned look with Dean. “Should we, you know, go in there?”

Dean’s eyes widen as he vividly shakes his head. “Fuck no! Are you nuts? We stay right here. Look, men are simple. They throw a few punches and then share a drink. And women… Well, women do fucking this. Bottle everything up, even for years sometimes, till it fucking explodes. Trust me, they need this. Let ‘em get it outta their system.”

Fucking women…

“Oh, do I have the right to talk about your power complex?” Y/N yells. “Or do I have to schedule a meeting with all the producers?”

“I’ve earned my title!”

“Right, your fucking work ethic is legendary! I’m so sick and tired of apologizing about Sam! I don’t care anymore! I have eaten shit for months! I have done everything I can think of to make this right!”

“You can’t make it right!”

“Great! Then I’ll stop trying!”

“Fine!”

“Yeah, fine like you telling me I should get raped to save our show! The show you don’t give a shit about!”

“God, you’re so melodramatic! I just figured you’re already screwing our director for attention, what’s one more network executive!”

Cas blinks at Dean with wide eyes and a raised brow. “Are you-… Are you and Y/N dating?”

Dean averts his eyes to the blue wall opposite him and wordlessly sips his coffee. He has a feeling the girls’ fight is about to take a turn, going into a direction he doesn’t particularly care for. Why can’t they just leave him out of it?

Cas, however, takes Dean’s silence as what it is – an admission. The producer’s face lights up with joy. He excitedly rubs Dean’s shoulder and gasps giddily. “That’s so great! You haven’t dated anyone since Amara! I’m so happy for you! I love Y/N! Are you guys getting married? Did you buy a ring? Can I be best man? You know what they say, third time’s the charm!”

Dean scowls at the producer and heaves a deep sigh. “Calm the fuck down, would you? No one’s getting married.”

“Go to hell! I’m not fucking Dean, okay?” Y/N denies Jo’s accusation loudly.

Dean thinks she’s a hell of an actress. If he didn’t know for a fact that he was balls-deep inside her last night, he would’ve bought that little lie.

“Oh please! It’s so obvious!” Jo counters. Dean can practically hear the exhaustive eye roll that followed. “He’s following you around the gym like a lovesick puppy!”

That’s what Dean was afraid of. He does not like where this conversation is headed.

“He is not! Shut the fuck up!”

“Are you really trying to fucking lie to me, right now? I’ve known you since middle school!” Jo snaps. “And he certainly fits your glorious dating choices! Drug addiction? Check! Asshole? Check! Commitment issues? Check! He’s perfect for you. I’m surprised your slutty ass didn’t jump him the first day!”

“Oh, fuck you, you fucking bitch!”

“Slut!”

“Whore!”

Then, more yelling, more accusations, and more tears follow before Jo storms out of the room and bolts past the boys down the hallway.

Fucking girls…

“I’ve never felt so guilty about anything,” Cas mumbles next to him, completely distraught and shaken.

Dean scoffs. “Geez, you’ve lived a charmed life.”

“Thought I was gonna have a wrestling show, and no one was gonna get injured?” Cas shakes his head at his own nonsense. “What the fuck is wrong with me? I destroyed our little family! I mean, Y/N is a gimp.”

The director rolls his eyes and sighs. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She’ll go on to have a full life, okay?”

Somehow that causes Cas to smile cheekily. He nudges the director’s shoulder. “With you?”

Dean sends him a thundering glare and dumps his burning cigarette bud into the producer’s coffee cup as he walks past him and returns to Y/N’s room.

Dean sat quietly next to Y/N as a nurse put a cast on her leg. The ankle, much like the women’s friendship, was broken, and the actress was out of commission for the foreseeable future. She hadn’t spoken a word yet, only sniffling and crying silently to herself. Dean left her alone and only handed her a tissue every now and then, figuring she needed some time to calm down and think. But he still wanted her to know he was there in case she needed him.

As the nurse finally leaves, Dean reaches out his hand and takes hers, drawing comforting circles on the back of it. Patiently, he waits till she’s ready to look at him.

“Well, I won’t be needing these anymore,” Y/N mutters with a pout and dumps her army boots on the little bedside table. “You should give them to Claire. She’d make a great replacement Red Sparrow.”

Dean purses his lips. It takes a lot out of him not to roll his eyes at her dramatization. He supposes that’s what he gets for falling in love with a goddamn actress – fucking theater no less. But he knows she’s really going through it right now, so he’s willing to cut her some slack.

“Relax, I’m not giving your part away,” he assures her with an easy smile.

“Well, you have to, if you want to keep the storyline moving forward,” she mumbles grumpily.

“Who cares? It’s just a TV show,” Dean argues.

However, that particular line seems to anger her. “Everyone keeps saying that. It’s not to me,” she contends and finds his eyes, her teary-eyed and desperate look boring into him. “I have people now. People who come with me to the ER. People who care if I’m hurt.”

Dean nods his head in understanding. He knows Cas and Y/N are essentially right, as much as it hurts him to admit it. They are a little family – a weird and incredibly dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just the easiest thing to say, you know?” he says and lets out a sigh. He rests his palm on her thigh and squeezes reassuringly. “How’s this? I don’t wanna make this show without you. I’m not gonna make this show without you.”

Y/N sucks in her lips, forming a tight line as she stares at her hands in her lap. “I thought we were all replaceable.”

Dean’s lips twitch with a smile. He lifts her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Well, you’re not, sweetheart.”

He leans closer and kisses her ardently till her toes curl. When she hisses slightly in pain, he pulls back, both of them chuckling.

Then, Dean swallows the heavy lump in his throat. He knows he has to come clean, literally and figuratively. He takes her hand in his again. This time for his own comfort.

“Listen, uhm, tonight was kinda my fault… on some level, at least,” the director starts.

Y/N’s brow creases, but she brushes it off with a disbelieving snort. “Why? Did you tell Jo to break my ankle?”

Dean chuckles lightly, although he doesn’t feel like laughing, considering he’s scared to death she’ll dump him in a few seconds once she hears the truth. “No, uhm, but she might’ve found something in my office that caused a lack of judgment on her part. I-, uhm, I might not have been as clean and drug-free as you believed me to be.”

“Oh. I see…” Y/N bites her lower lip and averts her gaze back to her hands, her fingers fumbling in a nonsensical pattern like a nervous tic. And then, she doesn’t say anything for serval minutes, while Dean slowly feels himself go crazy.

“So, uh, where do we stand? Are we mad? Disappointed? Disgusted? Sad?” Dean pries and pokes for an answer.

“I guess, uhm, disappointed,” she says finally. Dean sighs internally as his heart tightens. He had hoped it wouldn’t be that one. It’s the worst one. “And sad,” she adds.

Strike that. This is the worst one.

“Okay, uhm, good,” he replies before noticing her cocked brow at his answer. “I mean, not good-good, obviously. Just good to know where we are… So, where are we? Is this-, you know, is it over? Between us?”

Y/N glances at him slightly and takes a thoughtful breath. “No,” she says, and his heart rejoices with relief. “I kinda already knew you’re not perfect.”

Dean’s brow furrows momentarily before he smirks cockily. “Agree to disagree.”

Y/N tries to hide a smile at his joke. She’s unsuccessful in her endeavor. She squeezes his hand in reassurance. “It’s not your fault. It was still Jo’s choice,” she tells him. “Are you, you know, still…?”

Dean vehemently shakes his head. “No, no, I’m not. I haven’t for a couple of days, and I won’t anymore. I promise. Especially after tonight. I learned my lesson. I’m done with it. For good.”

“Okay,” she accepts.

Dean frowns a little because her forgiveness feels too easy, but he doesn’t get a chance to prod some more, her soft lips on his shutting him up for now. The kiss is fervent and sweet all the same. It makes his head spin and provides him with a completely different high – a much better one.

“Well, looks like we’re gonna have to get creative with this thing, huh?” Dean grins smugly and gently pats her cast.

Y/N throws him a raised look that borders on amusement. Of course, all he ever thinks about is sex. But she doesn’t mind a little sexy goofiness in her life right now and leans in for another kiss. He is a pretty fantastic kisser, after all.

“I got markers!” Cas hops cheerily into the room with a few pens held high in the air, watching the two of them quickly pull apart with red-tinted cheeks. The producer smiles adoringly at them. “You guys! Look at you! This is so exciting!”

“Oh, uh–”

Dean sees the panic spread on Y/N’s face and quickly swoops in, sending Cas a friendly but threatening look. “Hey, uh, buddy? Keep this between us, alright?”

“You got it! My lips are sealed.” Cas winks and locks his lips with his fingers, but his excitement isn’t even close to disappearing. “And I paid your bill, by the way!”

“Oh, Cas, you didn’t have to do that,” Y/N tells him sweetly and seems clearly flattered by his care.

“Yes, I did, ‘cause you couldn’t possibly afford it,” Cas says bluntly and uncaps a marker, signing his name on her cast. “And I felt so guilty.”

A knock on the door makes the three look up and watch Jo hesitantly amble inside, her head lowered in resignation and guilty admission. She holds up a duffel bag with a nervous smile.

“I thought you might wanna leave the hospital with pants on, so I brought you your favorite sweats from the motel,” she says and hands Y/N the peace offering. Y/N accepts it with a small smile. Jo then glances awkwardly at Dean and Cas. “As you may have heard, Y/N and I got into a big fight,” she explains the general tension in the room.

Dean nods curtly. “Oh, yeah, everybody heard.”

“Yeah, the cashier at the gift shop couldn’t stop talking about it.” Cas chuckles, causing Y/N and Jo to blush in embarrassment.

“So, what’s the plan, Dean?” Y/N looks expectantly up at him like he’s an oracle with all the answers.

Lucky for her, though, he’s cocky enough to provide them.

“You know what? We got four episodes left, right? Fuck it. No one’s watching. No one cares. Y/N can’t even walk. So I say we do whatever the hell we want,” the director suggests and grins broadly. “Let’s just set the weirdos free and see what the fuck happens.”

“I hope you guys have fun,” Y/N mutters with a hint of bitterness in her voice.

“Oh, you’re not getting out of it,” Dean interjects her pouting and self-pity. “You’re like a one-woman idea machine. I need you. Where we’re going, you don’t need legs.”

Jo smiles encouragingly at her and sits down on the edge of the bed as Cas hands her a marker. The two women then chat as if nothing ever happened, while the producer and the director share a confused look over the sudden ceasefire. But they take it as what it is – a gift from above.

Girls…

“Hey, uh, there’s something I need to do,” Dean says then. “Are you guys okay here to keep Y/N some company? I’ll pick you up right after.”

The three of them nod, and Dean feels confident enough to leave Y/N’s side. After all the emotional turmoil and chaos over the last week, the director direly needs an appropriate outlet.

The Impala pulls into the parking lot of H-ELLTV in Anaheim. It’s early in the morning, the sun barely up but still powerful enough that the beams sting his green eyes. Maybe it’s also the lack of sleep that causes it to hurt more.

Drugs aren’t an option. It’s too early to drink, even for him. And sex would’ve been possible, but he doesn’t want to be the ass that asks for it while his not-girlfriend is suffering in the hospital.

So, here he stands, next to Dicksuck Roman’s spot, where a beautiful dark blue Aston Martin V8 is parked.

Ever since Y/N told him what that creep tried to do, Dean’s been raking his brain with different revenge fantasies. Sure, he could cut off the guy’s dick and make him eat it, or cook his balls over a BBQ grill, or chop his head off and dunk it in acidic cleaning supplies. But Dean knows the only way to truly hurt a man is through his car.

The green-eyed director then pops open Baby’s trunk and hauls out a golf club. It was a gift from Cas that came with an invitation to hit the green in Pasadena for “networking purposes.” As if. Cas eventually accepted that Dean would rather kill himself before setting foot in that country club. (He might’ve also threatened to kill everyone else in it, which scared Cas enough to drop it.)

Dean’s heart soars high to the cloudless sky above as he administers the first few blows, shattering the front window and thoroughly denting the scratch-free and glistening hood.

Not anymore, Dean thinks with sinister joy.

He stops mid-swing, though, when Crowley walks by. The two men look at each other for a moment. Will the manager call the cops? Will Cas have to post bail on top of paying hospital bills?

But Crowley only bobs his head in acknowledgment. “He pisses off a lot of people,” he offers as an explanation and strolls ahead into the building, not paying Dean any more mind.

So, Dean continues hitting and swinging and batting until his lungs burn and his arms hurt. Only then does he drive back to the hospital across town to pick up his friends with a lightener heart.

23. Every Breath you Take – April 27

*sighs blissfully* Aah, some sweet fluff before all the drama starts... (And yes, I consider this chapter less drama and lots of fluff. That's how far we've come 😂)

Let me know how you've enjoyed this part! Are we rid of Benny for good? Is Y/N going to break Dean's plastic heart? 👀

TAGS:

Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444 @syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity

#christen reads #christen’s fic rec #christen’s fic recs #christen’s fic recommendations #christen’s fic recommendation #dean winchester fic rec #dean winchester fic recs #dean winchester fic recommendations #dean winchester fic recommendation #fic recommendations #fic recommendation #fic rec #fic recs

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xlynnbbyx · 8 days

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Jensen Ackles JIB Con 14 April 20th 2024

Jensen in Italy for JIB 14 and he is looking good too!! It appears he has a new hair style too. If you look his hair is shaved on the sides more than it normally is and it’s a bit shorter in the back. Only time Jensen usually changes his hair is if he is filming something and he has been in Vancouver lately. So I wonder if he is filming something and what is he filming? 🤔 But either way Jensen is looking so good! I love him so much!!

📸: Photos 1-2 (X) Photos 3-6 (X) Photos 7-9 (X)

🎥: Video (X)

#jensen ackles #simping for jensen ackles #i love him #forever crushing on jensen ackles #jensen ackles makes me smile #jib 14 #jib 2024 #jus in bello #supernatural #jus in bello con #jus in bello 2024

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xlynnbbyx · 11 days

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Wow Wayne you really did come back with bang huh? See what I did there? hehe 😏🤭

Anyway glad to see these two crazy for each other fools back! The moment in Dean's office WOW! The fact he didn't care that the others came in while he was still with her WHEW! I mean.....it was.....holy shit! okay hold on need a break here

Okay i'm good! Anyway that was definitely so hot!! They need to do that again and again! But anyway Dean is so far gone on her it is cute. I have feeling she is gone on Dean too but she is scared to admit or give into those feelings. Poor Dean he thought he did something wrong when she hadn't spoken to him. Dean really is a sweet teddy bear that you just want to hug. Clair making sure both were there at his own movie that kid knows what is up! She is trying to get those two together she is smarter than both of them really! I have said this before I will say it again Dick really is a DICK! Jo she is a bitch too I suspect she is still wanting revenge on her. But if Jo thought that was a good idea Jo should of done it herself! Poor girl was scared to tell Dean she feels it was her fault about the show. But glad Dean was so sweet with her and reassuring her. Now I hope he goes to Dick and maybe chop his dick off for hitting on his girl!

OH! OMG Before I forget the reference to Manson and Sharon Tate I was like OMG WAYNE! I'm into true crime and the Manson murders is the second case I ever looked at and studied. When Dean was wishing Manson was still at the ranch. I was like oh Dean baby no leave that there alone! But love that reference to them added in.

I can not wait to see what these two get up to next. I can't wait to see what Dean does to Dick and maybe Jo!

Plastic Hearts – Part 21

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut (p in v, dirty talk, spanking), fluff, angst, comfort

Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: It's finally happening! Get the Office gifs ready 👀😂 It's so good to bring this series back after such an unexpectedly long time away. We've got five more chapters left, so let's make 'em count with as much drama and ridiculousness as possible, shall we? Ready? And action! 🎬

<< 20 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

21. Rock You Like A Hurricane

Dean swallows the clot that has formed in the back of his throat as the first button of her white cotton blouse flies open. The air in the office feels dry, his mind hazy. Is he dreaming? Once again, he reminds himself to stop mixing booze and blow. It never ends well and barely ever helps.

Another step forward, another button, another swallow.

Y/N is a Fata Morgana, a mirage, slowly moving towards him through blurry lines and summer heat.

“Don’t you want me?”

The innocent lip bite that accompanies her question sends him downstairs, predestining him to burn in hellfire. He swallows again. Of course, he wants her. He always does.

The heels of his boots dig into the rotten floorboards as he pushes back on his office chair, enough to free his thighs from underneath the wooden desk and show off the bulging erection blooming in his jeans. It started to form as soon as she walked in and turned that damn lock behind her back.

The corners of her pink lips rise to a smile. She likes what she sees, and soon enough, she finds herself slotted between his bow legs with his greedy palms smoothing up her denim-clad thighs until they find a home on the juicy globes of her ass and squeeze tight. Green eyes darken as they wander up her frame before they meet two sparkling orbs that mirror his own lust back to him.

More buttons spring open, the blouse slipping off her shoulders and hitting the ground. A gray leotard becomes visible, two pointed peaks on luscious hills poking through the thin material, his mouth forming a ring around one of them, hot air igniting her skin and stealing her breath. Her arms weave around his neck, her head lolls back between her shoulder blades, her legs grow unsteady. Eyes close, fingers tangle in his hair and claw at his skin.

One large hand travels to the front, works the zipper of her jeans, and shimmies the denim fabric down two smooth thighs. His other arm snakes around her waist, holds her tight, and pulls her closer until she straddles his lap and lets their hips fuse into one.

Their eyes find each other. Gently, he brushes her hair out her face, tucks it behind her ears, strokes her flushed cheeks. She’s breathless and breathtaking, and then she dips her head and catches his lips, kissing him until he is, too.

“Wait, wait, wait…” He draws back in a drunk state of mind and gasps for air, hoping oxygen will help in clearing his head.

“What?” She pouts, her voice velvety soft and delirious.

“I just-… I have to ask you something first, make sure…” The air works wonders, the fog dissipates from his mind. Green eyes watch her closely. There’s something off, something wrong, something out of place. Y/N wouldn’t just stroll into his office and throw herself at him. As much as he enjoys this little dream sequence, it’s not who she is. “Why are you doing this? You’re not-, uhm…” He swallows harshly, his mind racing in circles. “You’re not fucking me, so I’ll stop being mad at you, right? ‘Cause that’s not what I want.”

God, the thought alone kills him. It’s his goddamn nightmare. What if he subconsciously manipulated her to do this? What if he’s taking advantage of her? What if he drove her so desperate that she sees this as her only option? What if she actually doesn’t want this?

But a gentle smile forms on her face instead. She pecks his lips, rests her forehead against his, and softly shakes her head. There’s amusement in her voice. “You already said you weren’t mad at me, remember?”

“Then why?”

Y/N shrugs and licks her ample lips. “I want to. I want you… You’re the best guy I know. I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more,” she assures him with a sweet smile and caresses the scruff on his cheeks, her hips grinding against his crotch. “It’s just-…” She bites down on her lower lip, cutting off her sentence.

“What? Tell me, sweetheart.” He clutches her chin and draws her gaze to meet his eyes.

“Even with the show being over, I don’t want the girls to find out,” she confesses nervously.

Dean nods in understanding and gifts her a smile. “Lucky for you, I’m good at keeping secrets. Have I ever let you down in that regard?”

She thinks for a beat, then shakes her head and matches his smile. “No.”

“See?” He grins, showing his pearly white teeth, and pulls her lips back to his for a searing kiss that seals their deal.

His hands begin to roam the curves they’re holding, her hips rocking against his in a needy rhythm, desperately searching for more friction to scratch the unbearable itch he seems to cause.

“Need you so bad, need this cock so bad…” she whispers between kisses and ragged breaths.

“Yeah? You think you can get off like that?” Dean lifts his thigh a little higher, shoves it right against her clothed cunt to give her a bit more friction, and listens to her whimpers in satisfaction. “Show me how much you want this… want me, baby girl. Wanna know how desperate you are for this cock, Y/N. Work for it.” His challenge is accompanied by a little smirk, which soon disappears and becomes stuck in his throat when Y/N accepts with eager nods.

Shit, he really needs to stop underestimating her. That’s already been his first mistake when he met her.

Her arms lock tighter around his neck for more balance as she rubs her pussy against the rough denim that covers his thick thigh. Her breathing grows so labored that kissing becomes an impossibility, the need for air in her lungs greater than the need to stay connected. The strong arm slung around her waist helps her move while his other hand tweaks, pinches, and gropes her tit, prying the gray cotton of her leotard over one shoulder to free the flesh and expose her nipple to the cool office air and his hot breath. He feels a wet patch forming on his leg, sees the stain on his jeans from her arousal as he peeks down between them.

“Dean, I’m–…”

Y/N doesn’t have to say it out loud. He can see it on her face that she’s damn close. “Such a good girl. Cum for me, huh? Let me finally fill and stretch this nice pussy with my cock, baby. Been waiting for you,” he coos. “Bet you’re so tight, yeah? How long’s it been?” His tongue licks the hardened bud before he pops her tit in his mouth and sucks, bites, tears.

“Fuck!”

She explodes, his name falling from her lips in prayer as she trembles and quivers in his arms. Her mouth parts, sucks in as much air as she can to fuel her lungs. Her arms cling to him, fingers denting the skin on his broad shoulders.

“That’s my girl,” Dean praises her, smiling as he lets her ride out her orgasm. “So, so pretty when you come. I missed that face.”

“Dean, please… Need you inside me now,” she purrs against his lips, swallowing his groans as they connect.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Uh-huh, please,” she begs breathily. “How d’you want me, boss?”

“What do you want, Y/N?” Hearing what a woman wants him to do to her or what she wants to do to him has always been one of the biggest turn-ons for him. “Tell me.”

“Want you to bend me over your desk, take me hard, punish me… Been a bad girl. Need you to punish me, please,” she whimpers and hungrily claims his lips, her nails digging into his jaw.

Now, Dean should probably be worried or at least stumped by her somewhat strange request. Not because it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard a woman ask for in the bedroom, but because it’s not necessarily something Y/N would say. However, she’s also an actress, and he’s about 99.9% sure she’s playing a role and following a script in her head. And well, hey, he likes playing too, so who would he be to deny her wishes? He’s been dreaming about spanking her ass and punishing his favorite Russian villain for weeks at this point.

“I think we can arrange that, baby girl,” he promises, a saucy smirk plastered on his lips. “But first – need to see your face when I break you in, yeah?”

Y/N grins and nods against his lips, her hand reaching down between their heated bodies and unbuckling his belt, pulling it from its loops, metal clinking before the sound of a zipper follows. Lifting her ass from his lap, he helps her strive off the denim, pushing it down his legs till it pools by his ankles, only leaving a thin barrier of cotton between them.

“Condom?”

Dean nods and motions for her to stand up, so he can reach into the bottom drawer of his desk. As he fishes out a foil packet, Y/N discards her leotard, nothing but naked skin and flesh left for his eyes to devour. Removing his own pair of boxers, his long cock bounces against his stomach and stretches to his belly button, fully erect, head swollen, and leaking at the tip. He tears the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex down his aching length before his hands drag her back into his lap.

Her arms settle on his muscular shoulders, her lips find and bruise his as he lines himself up with her entrance and threads his dickhead through her dripping folds. Her cunt is pink and glistening, hot and wet as he slowly slides inside, lets her feel every inch that fills her tight hole to the brim, her small body sinking down on him till they’re inseparable.

A moan escapes them both when he’s fully sheathed in her heat, and Dean knows lasting long would border on a miracle. Her mouth falls open as he stretches her tight walls, her eyes seeking his and not daring to look anywhere else. Unsurprisingly, Y/N takes direction well. She remains connected to him – mind, body, and soul.

“Fuck, Dean,” she breathes and swallows at the sheer thickness inside of her, her eyes finally falling closed as their foreheads meet.

Dean caresses her cheek and softly pecks her hairline. He then shuts his eyes as well and just focuses on the feeling of her wrapped around him for a blissful heartbeat. This is all he ever wanted.

Her. Here.

“You good?” he checks, his fingers trailing soothingly up and down her spine as she relaxes her muscles and adjusts to his size.

A gentle smile twitches and tugs on her lips. “Yeah, I’m great… You feel great.”

“You know, if you keep giving me compliments like that, it’s gonna be hard for me to smack your perky ass purple and blue,” he chuckles and watches a grin form.

“I like to make things hard for you,” she sasses and kisses his lips, her pussy purposely gripping his throbbing dick.

“There’s my bad girl.” Dean can’t fight the smile on his face. “Alright, you ready?”

Dean doesn’t have to wait for an answer as her hips begin to lift and rock against him, calming like the Pacific waves and soothing like the lullabies his mother used to sing when he was sick as a child.

“M-more,” Y/N whines, the needy desperation haunting her vocal chords.

“Beg for it,” Dean whispers, nuzzling his nose against her ear with a smirk.

“Please… Please fuck me, boss,” she rasps her pleas. “Need it hard and fast.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” Dean catches her lips, the kiss scorching and lasting before his hands smooth up her bare thighs and grab her ass tight, lifting them both from the chair.

Swiftly, her soles hit the ground as he swirls her in his hold and bends her over his desk. Her tits press flush against the wood, his palms finding her hips as he pulls her closer to him, ass up until it brushes against his solid length. With his knees, he spreads her legs wide and easily slots between them. He palms both asscheeks, caresses the skin before he administers his first slap, the sound echoing through his quiet office with her whimper as he watches the juicy flesh ricochet, completely entranced.

“You got a safe word, Y/N?” Dean asks as he soothes the red spot on her cheek.

“Hmmm,” she muses and bites her lower lip, and he can see the mischief twinkling in her orbs. She giggles, “What about ‘camera guy’?”

His palm strikes the other globe, making her yelp and jolt on the spot.

“Ow, fuck!” Y/N’s moan drowns in a laugh. “Jesus, Dean, I was just kidding.”

The director chuckles, “Yeah, well, I wasn’t.” With one harsh and fast thrust, he drives his cock back into her tight cunt, causing her to slam forward, her hips bruising against the desk. Her fingers curl tightly around the edge, knuckles white as she keeps herself pinned in place. He leans forward, his chest pressing against her back as his warm breath fans against the shell of her ear, his blunt fingernails denting the skin on her hips. Smirking, he demands, “Safe word. Now.”

“Fuck, uhm…” Breathlessly, her mind spirals, his cock slowly dragging in and out of her and not stopping to give her even a second to ponder. “Squirrel?”

“Squirrel it is,” he agrees amusedly, straightening as he picks up his pace and drives in deeper, watching as his dick gets swallowed by her soaking cunt, his swollen shaft glistening with her slick. “Shit, baby girl… Wish you could see how well you take me. Your needy little pussy sucks my fat cock right in,” he groans, listening in delight as his balls slap against her ass with each roll of his hips.

“Maybe you can bring your camera next time, boss,” Y/N mewls her suggestion as she falls apart underneath him.

“Yeah? Would you like that, huh? Would you like to see how fucking desperate you are for me, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh, would love that, boss. Wanna see how you fuck me and split me open,” she breathes hazily, her moans getting louder with each slam of his hips. “F-fuck, so close… Wanna come on your cock, please.”

“Oh, we can arrange that, sweetheart,” Dean chuckles, his breathing growing more labored as well as sweat starts to collect on his skin in sticky beads. He’s close, too, feels his cock throb and swell inside of her. His palm smacks her asscheek one last time. She cries out with pleasure as the sting burns her skin, her pussy clenching around his dick and gripping it tight.

But just as his hand sneaks to her front and finds the sensitive little nub, their ears both perk up as the big metal door of the gym flies open and a wave of female chatter floods inside.

“Oh, shit!” Y/N moans loudly at his last violent pound into her pussy before Dean’s palm covers her mouth and stops the rest from spilling out.

Pulling her up, her back straightens and presses flush against his body. He slows his thrusts but still pushes in deep enough to tickle her cervix and keeps the little circles on her clit alive, feeling her knees give in as her legs become putty. Her breathing is harsh and restricted against his palm, her lips straining and tightening to keep the screams inside.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh… you’re doing so, so good, baby,” Dean whispers his praises into her ear and chuckles as she clenches hard around his dick. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Trust me, they won’t hear us over their blabbering,” he chuckles. “Relax, okay? Let loose… little more,” he orders her, feeling the tension in her muscles shift to her head as she bites down on his fingers to keep it locked inside. “There you go… Gonna need you to come quietly, and I’ll be right behind you, alright? Can you do that?” Y/N nods against his hand. “Good girl,” he coos and pecks her temple quickly.

And then, he draws out till only the tip remains inside her drenched channel before he roughly slams back in. His thrusts become relentless in both speed and force as he fucks her, her screams of pleasure only muffled by his palm and the harsh bite of her lip. Tears sting her eyes and stream down her cheeks, trickling onto his fingers at the intense pressure as her walls tighten. One more thrust, and they begin to flutter, her body convulsing as she falls over the cliff and milks his cock for all he’s got, pulling him over the edge with her.

A primal grunt rumbles in his chest and crawls out of his throat, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips behind as he spills hot ropes of his seed into the condom, his cock throbbing in rhythm with her twitching cunt. His hand falls from her mouth as she braces her palms on the wooden surface in front of her.

Deliriously, they both gasp for air, every breath jagged before the storm within them calms. Dean brushes her hair from her sweat-covered neck and lovingly kisses the salty skin on her shoulder blade, a blissful smile gracing his lips.

The sun blinds her eyes as Y/N stands on the green, perfectly cut lawn of the Dusty Spur. The boys have called an emergency meeting at the motel this time, gathering all the women in front of the reception outside.

It’s been three days since she has fucked the director in his office. He was careful not to leave any marks on her throat behind or anywhere else where it might catch unwanted attention, no one batting eyelashes at the new bruises on her hips that joined some of the old ones from training.

Dean told her he wanted a repeat of their encounter, whispering the dirtiest and most sinful promises into her ear. However, they haven’t seen much of each other since then. Both of them have been quite busy after the news of their new time slot and impending cancelation broke. And while it certainly dampened the lighthearted mood in the gym for a day, hope was not entirely lost, though, and still thrived in everyone but Y/N and Jo.

Yet, the two of them played along with the illusion the show still could be saved for the sake of the team. She didn’t know why Jo was entertaining the farce, but Y/N did it for her friends and, well, Dean, who’d been pondering and working nonstop to try and figure out what went wrong in his well-oiled machinery.

Y/N hates that he blames himself, not having the guts to tell him it’s in reality all her fault. Even with his sunglasses on his freckle-dusted nose, she can see the bags under his green eyes from the lack of sleep in recent days and feels more guilt pooling in the pits of her stomach. She doesn’t want him to be mad at her again, which is why she’s glad she can use Billie’s new, harsh training regiment as a good excuse to avoid him.

“They gave a men’s wrestling show our slot! And you wanna know why, hm?” Cas throws his rhetorical question into the group. Y/N has never seen the producer so angry and swallows more shame down. “Truth is, they’re better! They fly higher and hit harder!

“They hit harder because they’re bigger. It’s physics,” Y/N points out and tries to keep her annoyance at bay. It’s a men’s world they’re living in, and she’s getting sick and tired of the comparisons.

“Oh, fuck physics, Y/N!” Cas yells, causing her to flinch at his tone. “I need you to take everything you got and push it all the way to the limit, okay?”

“I don’t know what else we can do. We’ve been training for hours almost every day. Sun up till sun down,” Donna says and sighs.

Maybe it’s not too late, and Y/N should request a private meeting with Dick at the network, try and smooth things over before they get any worse. Maybe a blowjob in the office is enough to get them their old slot back and save the show. Dean wouldn’t ever have to know, right?

Besides, would he even care? Maybe he’d be grateful. After all, she doesn’t have much worth beyond fucking someone if you asked anyone here.

“I don’t need to hear excuses. I need to hear results,” Cas huffs and places his hands on his squared-off hips, shaking his head.

“You want bigger moves? Fine, you’ll get ‘em,” Billie assures him with a biting fighter spirit.

Cas’ lips curve into an enthusiastic smile. “That’s what I wanna hear! Look, I know this is gonna be hard, but I believe in miracles, and we’re going to make this miracle happen!”

Jo heaves a sigh. “Right, so we break our bodies and wrestle harder and magically get our time slot back?” she asks wryly, but her sarcasm is sadly lost on Cas.

“Yes!” the producer agrees joyously. “Look, I have it from Richard Roman himself that this is what they’ve been missing.”

At that, Jo’s blaming eyes wander to Y/N as the two former friends share a look. Shamefully, Y/N averts her gaze to the green grass underneath her feet, and Jo clenches her jaw tightly and starts to grind her teeth. Ever since their heated conversation in the gym, things have went downhill between them. Nowadays, there are just judgmental looks and passive-aggressive comments passed between them.

“So you met with Richard Roman?” Jo turns her unresolved anger towards the guys.

Cas groans loudly and rolls his blue eyes back. “Jo, I’m sorry, okay? It was a guy thing. We had to storm the gates,” he explains.

“Yeah, don’t get back up on your feminist high horse, alright? We didn’t leave you out, okay?” Dean jumps to Cas’ defense and unsuccessfully smooths things over. “We just think your focus should be on performing this week, you know? You and Y/N have a big match coming up. The, uh, continuing tale of the bereaved mother and the insane Russian, right?”

Jo nods and clenches her jaw once more, biting back her surely fiery comments.

“Okay, enough talking! Let’s do it!” Cas announces eagerly and claps his palms together as the women scatter back to their rooms to get ready for today’s training.

“What time do you wanna rehearse today?” Y/N bitterly asks her blonde opponent, already expecting a bitchy answer.

“Oh, any time, really. I mean, we could rehearse all day and night. It won’t make a difference,” Jo replies in an annoyed tone as anticipated. “You of all people should know that.”

Y/N watches Jo leave, trying her hardest not to strangle her former friend. She gets it. She fucked up, but she still doesn’t agree with Jo. Would sleeping with Roman and sacrificing her dignity really have saved the show?

“Hey, everything alright?” Dean’s deep voice startles her. She was so preoccupied with killing Jo in her mind, she hasn’t even noticed the director sneak up on her. “I know Cas was a little intense today. Never seen the guy this riled up before. It’s like a puppy getting rabies.”

Y/N forces a chuckle from her throat and brushes him off. “Oh, uhm, yeah, wasn’t so bad. I get it.”

Dean’s brow creases, sensing something is off with her. Shit. She does not want the director to find out about what happened.

“You’re not mad at me, right? I know I’ve been a bit MIA the last few days. It’s just been crazy with everything going on,” he explains sincerely and shoots her a soft smile. “I meant to call you or at least talk to you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, no, like I said, I get it, Dean. Don’t worry about me, okay?” she assures him and compels another smile to her face before her curiosity takes over. “Did Roman really say our moves weren’t good enough?”

Her hope comes flooding back. Maybe it truly wasn’t her fault. Maybe the guy hits on so many actresses on a weekly basis that he doesn’t even care if one rejects him. Maybe it’s just all in her goddamn head, and it was just bad luck all around.

Dean shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but you girls are amazing. He’s gonna change his mind, and you’ll be back in your old slot in no time,” he promises her hopefully.

“Yeah, I guess so…” Fuck. It’s definitely about her.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean checks again, noticing her absentminded behavior. Y/N’s usually chipper, eager, talkative, and hard to keep contained. She’s a warrior. The woman in front of him right now is the complete opposite, however. He almost doesn’t recognize her, and it worries him a little.

Is it him? Did he break her?

“Uh-huh, yeah, just tired, you know? Billie’s been riding us pretty hard this week,” Y/N excuses her strange mood with a half-truth, and Dean seems to buy it.

“Yeah, I bet.” He nods understandingly, chuckling. “Well, uhm, I’ve got some free time tonight. You wanna come over for dinner and I don’t know maybe… stay? You could ride me pretty hard, too,” he suggests, making her snort. “Admittedly, that sounded better in my head. Sorry.”

“No, uhm, I’d love to,” she replies honestly, giggling at his bashfulness. “But I’m pretty beat. Probably gonna fall into bed around seven like a dead person. Raincheck?”

Truthfully, there’s nothing she’d rather do than spend her nights (and days) with Dean, but the guilt in her belly is eating her alive. She can barely look him in the eyes. As of right now, though, she can see even more disappointment shimmering in his green orbs.

“Sure, yeah. Open invitation, sweetheart,” he says and acts as if her rejection doesn’t bother him. “But still, if all you wanna do is sleep, then you’re welcome to do that at my place as well. I do have the better mattress than the motel. Maybe a good night’s rest and a hot bath is all you need to recover, you know?”

Hot bath. The words make her skin crawl and take her right back to that horrible night where it all went wrong. How could she have been so stupid?

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat and fights for words. “Oh, uhm… I don’t, uh…”

“Hey, it’s okay, alright? No explanation needed, sweetheart,” Dean says and lets her off the hook. “Just wanted to offer, you know?”

“Thanks, another time.” Y/N forces one last smile to her lips.

Dean hasn’t seen Y/N in a whole week. Well, that’s not entirely true. He sees her every day at training in the gym, rolling around with Jo in the ring. But he hasn’t seen her privately since their little naughty stint in his office.

By now, he’s sure she’s avoiding him for some reason, but he doesn’t have the guts nor the balls to ask her straight. He’s too afraid of her answer, scared she has changed her mind about them and their arrangement. He’d accept it, of course, but he still doesn’t want to find out if that’s the reason why she keeps her distance. It would most certainly break his heart.

A knock on his office door makes his head snap up with hope that it’s Y/N. Either she’s here for another booty call or to end it. He’s prepared for both. To his surprise, though, it’s Donna who’s stopping by for a visit.

“Dean? Can we talk?” the curvy blonde asks insecurely, concern etched into every crease of her face.

“Sure, uh, what’s up?” Dean knows Donna and Billie have given their all to train the girls over the last few weeks, and if production could afford it, he’d give them both a gigantic raise. Unfortunately, he can’t but hopes it’s the thought that still counts.

“It’s about Y/N and Jo,” she informs him, and his ears perk up at that.

He’s noticed some tension between those two as well, so he’s not as surprised as he should have been. But honestly, sometimes it’s hard to tell what those two are fighting about. If it’s something new or just the same old beef.

“Usually, they do a good job of keeping their weird friendship stuff out of the ring, but not in the last week. There’s something wrong with them,” Donna tells him.

No shit, Dean thinks. Those two having issues is not an entirely new thing.

“What d’you want me to do about it?” Dean asks. He knows Donna didn’t just stroll into his office to chat and gossip. She’s looking for direction. Like the rest of these women downstairs, the blonde expects him to solve their problems. In the end, that’s his job.

“Postpone the match,” Donna prompts, the worry deepening. “I don’t think they should fight. They’re not communicating properly. Someone’s gonna get hurt.”

Dean tries not laugh, but in reality, it’s just fucking funny. Do these women ever think things through? Y/N and Jo’s match is the main storyline, the two of them being the best fighters as well. If they’re not entering the ring, he might as well just throw in the towel now and quit. The show would never make it back on air.

“Donna, I can’t do that,” he tells her frustratedly and runs a palm over his face. “C’mon, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like they’re gonna kill each other.”

“Dean–” Donna is about to interject when he stops her.

“Fine, all right? I’ll talk to her,” the director assures the blonde.

Donna’s brow shoots up. “Her?”

“Them. I’ll talk to them,” Dean corrects quickly and watches her leave his office, clearly dissatisfied with his solution.

Dean hates West Hollywood like a mouse hates a cat. He can’t believe he fucking agreed to this thing in the first place. And the only reason he did agree was his stupid daughter, who’s not even here tonight because she’d rather spend time with her boyfriend than with her dad.

Fucking teenagers…

Honestly, Dean’s got no clue why he still came here without Claire. Maybe because he’s old-school and actually keeps his commitments, or maybe it’s because he’s got nothing better to do since neither his kid nor his not-girlfriend want to spend time with him. So, it was either getting drunk at home alone like he always does or do this.

As Dean enters the dark theater, he notices not a lot of seats are taken. Surprise, surprise! No one cares about him or his movies…

There’s a group of teenagers in the front row, though, who seem to be way to young to watch one of his films. But who is he to judge? He’s not their fucking parent. God knows he’s got his hands full with one teenager already.

He’s about to take a seat somewhere in the back when his green eyes spy a familiar head of hair. His heart skips a beat when he recognizes his favorite actress. Out of all the places in all the world, he’d never thought he’d meet her here.

“Hey,” he says as soon as he’s made it to her row. Her head darts up, but she doesn’t seem too surprised to see him here, which makes this coincidence even weirder. He assumed she strolled by this theater by accident and saw one of his movies was showing, deciding to check it out, which just so happens to flatter him and stroke his ego perfectly fine. “What are you doing here?”

Dammit. That sounded way too aggressive. He’s honestly happy she’s here; he just hasn’t expected it. Call it a ‘pleasant surprise.’

“Oh, uh, Claire invited me,” Y/N explains and gulps nervously. “But I can leave if you don’t want me here.”

Damn that kid. Of course, she meddled in his affair. Does she know he likes Y/N? Is it that obvious? Well, either way, someone’s getting a bigger allowance this week. Doesn’t he have the best kid?

“No, uh, stay. Please,” he says and sends Y/N his best smile. “Can I sit with you?”

Her face lights up. “Sure.”

Dean sits down on a red velvet seat next to her and feels like a goddamn teenager on a first date. His knees are shaking as he anxiously taps his boots on the sticky movie floor and drums his palms repeatedly on his thighs. Something inside of him urges him to hold her hand and interlace their fingers, or do one of those moves where he yawns and slings his arm around her shoulders.

In fact, he can barely concentrate on the movie until he takes her hand in his. But who cares? He wrote and directed this masterpiece, so it’s not like he’s missing out on anything important. He already knows the plot and every single shot.

Once their fingers touch, his heartbeat accelerates to light speed. She shoots him a look and raises her brow with a teasing smirk. He can catch it from his periphery but doesn’t dare to look straight at her. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat and glues his green eyes stubbornly to the silver screen, pretending it’s not a big deal.

When did holding hands become such a fucking thrill? He’s not goddamn sixteen anymore, for crying out loud.

Y/N takes note of his uncomfortableness and focuses back on the movie but still gives his hand a small squeeze, telling him everything is all right. They remain exactly like this till the end credits roll across the screen.

And then, to his greatest surprise, there are cheers and claps from everyone in the theater. Y/N lets go of his hand to clap as well and bites her lip to hide a smile once she sees him blush furiously at the attention and admiration.

The group of teenagers then approaches him and stops by his row as a young, scrawny boy speaks up, “You’re a genius, Mr. Winchester.”

Mister?! How old do they think he is? Well, granted, he probably shot that movie before those kids were even born. Talk about feeling old.

“Your disorientation factor is truly masterful,” the boy continues. “Claire told us we’d love it.”

His brow shoots up in surprise. “Claire? How do you know my kid?”

“Oh, we’re all in AV club together,” the boy replies and gestures to his peers before they filter out of the theater.

“Huh.” Dean is gobsmacked, truly. For one, he didn’t even know Claire was in AV club. And secondly, he’s goddamn proud of her. Who knew the kid would take after her old man?

“See?” Y/N pokes his arm with her elbow, a big grin adorning her face. “You have a whole fan club of teenagers who adore your movie that they are, for sure, too young to see.”

Dean chuckles softly and wishes he could hide his reddening cheeks from her.

“I liked your movie, too,” she says then and watches his reaction closely.

“Oh, c’mon,” Dean tries to brush her off. She’s probably just saying it to appeal to his ego. He knows she’s not the biggest fan of his work. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Y/N says enthusiastically. “Those kids were right. It was disorienting. You were doing your own thing.” But then she catches her mistake and corrects herself, “Are. Sorry! You still are doing–”

Dean, however, shakes his head at her correction. “Nope, you’re right,” he admits and scoffs. “That was me twenty years ago. My hands all over everything like the biggest control freak, driving everybody nuts. I mean, my operator actually became so frustrated with me that he quit the first day and threw his camera at me. I had to shoot the rest of it myself.”

“You shot that?” Y/N’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Wow.”

“Yeah, I did.” Dean sighs and pensively scratches his beard. Something’s been bothering him for a while now, and talking to Y/N usually helps him sort through his jumbled thoughts. After all, she’s his Alma. “You know, I’m accustomed to a certain level of failure. When a project usually goes wrong, I know exactly what happened. It’s just-… with our show… I have no idea what went wrong there. I don’t know why they shit-canned us. Not a fucking clue. None. It’s driving me insane.”

Y/N grows quiet next to him and fumbles with her fingers. She swallows deeply before she opens her mouth. “I have an idea. I know why,” she confesses.

The director’s brow furrows. As he looks at her, he recognizes her nervousness. It causes him to worry. “What d’you mean?”

“Richard Roman, the head of the network? He-, uhm, he invited me to dinner… at his hotel room,” Y/N begins, the uncomfortableness growing inside of her and expanding in her chest.

Dean, on the other hand, stays perfectly still and quiet. The calm before the storm, so to speak. Because as soon as she said those words, he could feel his heart stop and drop several feet into the depths of hell. There, he’s sure he’ll find some kind of weapon he can use to kill that motherfucker before he comes back topside. The director knows how that story ends before she has even finished it, and it makes him want to puke his guts out and burn this godforsaken city down.

“He came on to me. As in… he wanted to have sex with me,” Y/N continues and clarifies in case he didn’t catch on. She’s not entirely sure the director is getting the message since he hasn’t said a word yet. “But I left before anything could happen. Ran away, actually. Bolted right outta there.” Her little chuckle at the end is a futile attempt to lighten the mood.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Dean’s furious, his nostrils flaring. He wants to punch and kill someone, but most of all Dickhead Roman himself.

“No, I’m not,” Y/N replies meekly. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Bewildered, he frowns. “Mad?” That’s when he notices that she suddenly seems scared. Is she frightened… of him?!

“Maybe I can still fix it. Just call him and ask him if I can come by his office,” Y/N suggests, her voice laced with desperation. But not the good kind that usually turns him on. This time it’s just plain sad.

“To do what exactly?” Dean prompts grimly, already knowing her intentions. Over his dead body is she doing that!

“Well–”

“Fuck no!” Dean doesn’t even allow her to finish her sentence. In fact, he doesn’t want to hear it at all, or he might have to scratch his ears out afterward. God, he doesn’t even want to think about it. “You’re not fucking doing anything, alright?”

“But–”

“That stupid fucking son of a bitch,” Dean huffs and shakes his head. “What a goddamn prick!”

“So you’re not mad?” Y/N checks insecurely.

For a moment, Dean stops his rage to look at her, his heart almost breaking as he does. She deserves so much better in this life than all the shit she’s getting. How the fuck is any of this fair?

“At Dick cocksucking Roman, yeah. But not at you. Never at you, okay?” he emphasizes and sees her nod in relief. His heart shatters anew. How could she even think for a second he’d hold some sleazebag’s actions against her? But then his suspicions grow as he puzzles the pieces together. “When the fuck did this happen?”

“Uh, a little over a week ago,” Y/N answers quietly. “The night before they moved us to the nighttime slot.”

“That’s when you came to my office, and we–” Dean doesn’t finish his train of thought and cards a hand through his messy hair. Now, it makes sense. Her strange behavior, the inexplicable need for punishment, and everything in between.

‘You’re the best guy I know,’ he remembers her words. ‘I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more.’

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Was that why you were avoiding me?”

A part of him feels unbelievably relieved. It’s not him but literally someone else’s fault. For once, he’s done nothing wrong. For once, he hasn’t ruined everything. But another part of him, the bigger one, just wants to rip Dickbag Roman’s throat out with his goddamn teeth. What a pathetic fucking loser…

Dean wishes he could beat the guy black and blue and leave him bleeding on the highway till a truck runs over him. He wishes he could cut off that guy’s dick and put it through a meat grinder. His mind can’t stop imagining the most gruesome ways to make that asshat suffer and die. In fact, he wishes Manson was still roaming Spawn Ranch and would send his Family over to that Roman’s mansion and leave Sharon Tate the fuck alone.

“I’m sorry. I guess I was scared you’d react like Jo.” Y/N gulps and averts her eyes to her trembling hands in her lap.

His brow knits, Donna’s warning words echoing through his mind. “Jo knows? What did she say?” But before Y/N can answer him, the director stops her again. “No, wait… I can take a fucking guess,” he mutters bitterly. The blonde bimbo probably told her to blow the guy in his goddamn office. Typical…

“Well, she’s not entirely wrong, you know,” Y/N mumbles and bites down on her lip without looking at him.

“What d’you mean?”

“All I’m good for is a fuck,” she says with a wry smile and wipes away a small tear. Dean’s heart twinges and hurts for her, but that pain is nothing compared to the cool blade of a knife he feels soon instead. “I mean, you of all people know that…”

Dean’s quiet for a moment and bites his nails as he ponders. His mind is a maze, and he knows he has to pick and choose his words carefully in order to get out of it.

“No, I actually don’t know that,” he states and catches her attention.

He tries his best not to sound angry or offended, even though he is a little. Hasn’t he been building her confidence for weeks now? Hasn’t he been instilling in her that she’s his favorite – and not just among the cast but on this planet in general? He figured she knew how much she truly means to him, but maybe he hasn’t been clear enough yet. He knows Y/N’s self-worth issues could fill every damn swimming pool in California, so maybe he shouldn’t expect a miracle so soon.

Mostly, he’s angry at Dicksuck Roman and Barbie for ruining all his hard work with one asshole move and a few bitchy words.

Dean wets his lips and lets out a sharp exhale through his nose before he looks at her. “Y/N, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’re never just a quickie in the office to me. Do you understand that?”

She nods in slow reluctance. “I think so.”

“Good,” he says sternly. “Now believe it ‘cause it’s true.”

The green-eyed director cups her cheeks and pulls her to his lips, tongue meeting tongue in a searing kiss. The old seats creak when their weight shifts, Y/N leaning into his touch as she wrings for oxygen with heavy breaths. And where words fail, he tries his best to show her how he feels through his actions.

“Sorry,” Dean apologizes cheekily once he lets her get some air. “Couldn’t hold myself back any longer. That’s okay, right? We’re still on?”

Suddenly, it dawns on him that she might’ve still changed her mind about him. Has he just sexually harassed a woman right after she told him how she’s been sexually harassed by a superior? Jesus fucking Christ, he’s goddamn tone deaf, isn’t he?

To his luck, though, Y/N finds his stupidity amusing and giggles, placing another sweet kiss on his plump lips as she shakes her head. “We’re still on, boss,” she assures him and hears him heave a big sigh of relief.

“Awesome.” He grins from ear to ear and brushes a strand of rogue hair out of her face. “Are you and Jo okay? ‘Cause if you’re not, you gotta tell me. You wanna postpone the match?”

Now that Dean knows there’s no chance in hell the network’s going to let the show survive, he doesn’t even give a shit if the girls resort to doing the chicken dance in the ring or taking a dump on stage. No one truly gives a fuck anymore, least of all him. He never has.

The only thing he cares about is sitting right next to him.

Y/N, however, vehemently shakes her head. “No, we’re fine. I wanna fight. ‘Sides, I’m supposed to win this match, and I can’t wait to kick Jo’s bitchy ass.” She grins broadly.

“That’s my bad girl.” Dean smirks and pecks her lips. “You’re gonna stay over at my place tonight? Play a little Cold War in my bedroom?”

“Only if I can do my accent,” Y/N says, beaming.

The director playfully rolls his green eyes, even though he’s direly been waiting for that sort of role play. “Oh, you’ve got yourself a deal, Natasha.”

22. Girls, Girls, Girls – April 20

Hope you enjoyed this one! We came back with a literal bang 😂 Next up we deal with more drama and a hospital stay 👀

Don't forget I re-did the tag lists after the break, so pick your new place (everything, specific character, or series) and put your username in there ❤️

TAGS:

Old Series Tags (only for this part): @jessjad @mrsjenniferwinchester @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @yeahmynameiscool06 @luci-wiggles @darkened-writer @mimaria420 @samanddeansannoyingsis @sarasolros

#christen reads #christen’s fic rec #christen’s fic recs #christen’s fic recommendations #christen’s fic recommendation #fic recommendations #fic recommendation #fic recs #fic rec #dean winchester fic rec #dean winchester fic recs #dean winchester fic recommendations #dean winchester fic recommendation

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xlynnbbyx · 26 days

Text

WAYNE! I am so emotional right now over this right now. This is a bitter sweet ending. You scared me for a moment in the beginning. I really thought that Nancy had lost her Sid with the way she was talking. Although her there with Homelander aka John it kind of reminded me of Misery for a moment. Except she wasn't obsessed with him she just wanted him to suffer. I love how she was trying so hard to read what Ben wrote for her to say as insults. Somehow I think his handwriting would be hard to read. But I was still like WHAT HAPPENED IS BEN STILL ALIVE?! But then when she got in the car and we see Ben is still alive I was able to sigh with relief.

To see what she did in order to save her husband Ben is a swoon worthy moment. She knew that they would betray them both. She risked herself to save her love. But the fact that she can't even touch him is heart breaking. The fact she has to leave him until she can find a cure breaks my heart cause I want them to be together so bad. Her sitting Ben up with a child that could defiantly be Ben's with his attitude they are defiantly father and son. I mean the kid called him a pedo before trying to hot wire a car. 😂 At leat we know Ben will have his hands full. But the face he risked kissing her cause he loves her was so sweet! I know this is the end for now but I really do hope she is able to find a cure to go be with her husband.

This was a great rollercoaster of a mini series finishing this was one hell of a way to return!! Can't wait to see what you have in store for us next!!

This still has me like..

Rehab – Epilogue

Series Summary: 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.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, some crack, a bit of fluff and angst, hard decisions, a lot of goodbyes & all the feels

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: We're here, babes! End of the road! Thank you guys so much for everything. This was a wild ride, and I'm glad I had you in my passenger's seat 💚

Feedback is my fuel 🖤

<< Chapter 8 || Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Epilogue: twin flame

You’re gonna be nowhere The loneliest kind of lonely It may be rough goin’ Just to do your thing’s the hardest thing to do…

“Morning.” Y/N smiles brightly as he stirs and slowly wakes. “Wakey, wakey, sunshine.”

Blue eyes flutter open and fearfully widen, his brow scrunches in confusion as he looks around and scans his environment. He tries to wiggle free of the handcuffs around his wrists, keeping him tied to the metal bed frame.

Not that it matters – he can’t leave either way.

She turns off the radio with a blissful sigh. “You know, that was one of his favorite songs. Your father’s,” she clarifies. “He sang it all the time. It was fucking annoying.”

“Why the hell can’t I move? Get me the fuck out of here,” the man in a sky-blue hospital gown demands and lifts his head off the mattress, only a few inches, attempting to get up.

Needless to say, that attempt is futile and fails miserably.

“Don’t strain yourself, John, or you might shit the bed. And I ain’t cleaning that mess… You’ve been in a coma for three weeks,” Y/N tells him with an amused smile. “Oh, and you can’t move because you’re paralyzed from the waist down. I even doubt that meager dick’s still working.”

His nostrils flare and let out a huff. “It’s Homelander, you bitch. No one calls me by that name.”

“Yeah, not anymore.” Y/N twitches her shoulders in mock apology. Her mouth curves into a Machiavellian grin. “Scared yet?”

“Where the fuck am I?” he growls through gritted teeth, upset by her blatant disrespect.

“You’re at a rehab facility for former supes. I mean, it’s discontinued. Abandoned, really. It’s just you and me,” she replies flatly and then forces a customer-service smile to her lips. “So, guess I’ll be your nurse for the day. How are we doing, you–”

Her brow furrows as she tries to remember the exact words, pensively pursing her lips.

“Wait…” She holds up a finger to stop him from interrupting her as she fishes out a crumpled piece of paper from her jeans pocket. She squints her eyes in concentration as she skims over its content.

“Ah yes!” With a smile, she clears her throat and reads from her paper. “So, how are you doing, you bootlicking… carpet-munching… cockboy?”

Homelander frowns at the insults. Y/N does too, but for a different reason as she shakes her head.

“Jesus fucking Christ, your dad’s handwriting is an atrocity,” she mutters as she tilts her head with narrowed eyes at the paper in her hands.

The blond man’s eyes narrow in both shock and confusion. “How do you know my father?”

“Oh, uhm, I’m his wife,” Y/N says and smiles complacently. “Which technically makes me your step-mommy, but let’s not go there, you–… Wait.” She peeks once more at the paper in her hands. “You cumguzzling… cowfucking… cuck fluffer.” Her brow draws up, impressed. “Huh, nice. Little alliteration going on there. Guess all those books paid off…”

“Can we skip to the part where you tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?” Homelander snaps impatiently, annoyed with the shenanigans.

“Alright, your dad sent me here to, you know… gloat,” Y/N says simply and shrugs, flashing him an easy smile. “He wanted you to know that he’s the one that put you into this damn bed. Funnily enough, he once woke up in this very room, tied to a bed. Not in a kinky way, though. Although, he probably would’ve loved that…” She chuckles fondly. “This place really changed him, but I doubt it’ll do the same for you.”

“And why the fuck isn’t he here telling me this, huh?” John asks with a challenging look. “I didn’t reckon him for a fucking coward.”

Y/N’s facade cracks a little at his words, a vicious smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, he was not a coward. He was the bravest man I’ve ever known. He was and is a fucking hero and surely getting celebrated as one.”

Y/N leans back in her chair and grabs the remote from the bedside table, switching on the TV. A news report flickers across the screen. It’s a recording from a few weeks ago, but Homelander doesn’t know that. It shows a row of celebratory parades held all over the country. A statue of Soldier Boy is being erected next to the Statue of Liberty.

Homelander finally defeated. Soldier Boy dies a hero in fierce combat. America breathes a sigh of relief.

Homelander watches the news and reads the taglines as they scroll in front of his eyes. His mouth is agape in bewilderment before Y/N switches the television off again.

“Everyone loves him… and fucking hates you. Like spit-on-your-grave hate,” she summarizes and watches his face darken. She rises from her seat and smiles down at him. “Have a nice life chained to that bed till you rot to death, you dickfaced, inbred, garbage-eating fascist.”

With a wide smirk, she then leans down and whispers into his ear, “Those were my insults, by the way.”

“Well, he’s dead, and I’m fucking alive, which means I won,” Homelander snarls from the bed with a contrivedly triumphant sneer, rattling with his handcuffs. He’s close to an explosion, she can tell.

“Yeah, you’d be telling yourself that if it makes you feel better…”

With a roll of her eyes, Y/N turns her back. As she marches out of the room, Homelander’s furious screams of agony haunt the clinic’s empty hallways, but there is no one here to hear them anymore.

Project Bloom has been disbanded. There’s only a handful of CIA nurses left, tasked to take care of Homelander until his hopefully slow and painful death. If someone decides to hold a pillow over his head at any point, she supposes she wouldn’t be that mad about it either.

Homelander is history. Soldier Boy is dead. And Ben is at rest.

Finally, Y/N can leave this godforsaken place behind her.

Y/N slides into the driver’s seat of her Prius, her head falling back as she exhales a long, exhaustive breath and rubs her temples. That damn brat gave her a fucking migraine with his whiny bitching.

“Finally,” it huffs from the backseat. “Took you long enough. How the fuck did it go?”

Y/N blinks into the rearview mirror and catches a set of expectant green eyes. Her hand drops from her temples as she chuckles.

“Your handwriting is horrible,” she says as a response and pulls out the paper, pointing at a word. “What the hell is that one?”

Ben leans forward between the seats and squints his eyes. “Mmh, pube flosser,” he supplies and frowns. “You didn’t use that one?”

Y/N sighs. “I think he’s got the gist without it.”

“Yeah, but that was a good one,” Ben mumbles and sighs disappointedly. “Did you play him the song?”

“Yes, I did. I played him the song and did everything else you wanted me to do,” she confirms patiently. “You know, you’ve got a weird knack for torture.”

“Thank you. It’s a gift.” Ben blushes and adjusts his baseball cap. “Did you sell it properly? You know, acting is a skill. The most important thing is to–”

“Ben! For the love of God, shut up or I’ll run you over with my car,” Y/N snaps. If he gives her one more acting lesson, she swears she’ll turn herself a widow.

“Fine.” Ben scoffs and rolls his eyes back. “Did he fucking buy it?”

“Yup, he surely thinks you’re dead. Like the rest of the world,” Y/N says and shoots him a smile over her shoulder.

He matches it and scratches his shaved chin, letting himself fall back into the seat. “Good. So, we’re done, right?”

“Yeah, he was the last stop on our list,” she replies quietly, her smile mixing with sadness. “How’s the arm?”

“Good, good…” He nods, his head bobbing thoughtfully as he clutches the scar on his right bicep. “Healing nicely. Finally got a real war wound. Always wanted one.”

“Okay, then… Let’s go, I guess.” With a heavy swallow, Y/N turns the ignition and starts the car.

“You know, I’d really love to kiss you now,” Ben notes, heartache swinging in his voice, and finds her eyes in the rearview mirror.

Y/N bites down on her lip and nods. “Yeah, wouldn’t that be nice…”

Three weeks ago…

A guard gestures down the hallway to the restrooms, but as soon as Y/N rounds the corner and is out of sight, she takes a turn in the opposite direction.

The good thing about a super secret government facility that’s not supposed to exist is that it only comes with the necessary manpower. There’s no abundance of guards at every corner. It’s quiet and desolate.

Moreover, no one expects a silly and weak human to cause any trouble. It surely has its advantages to be constantly underestimated.

Y/N finds the lab she’s passed on their way in, where she spied a glass fridge with vials of different colors. It’s guarded, but only by one person. It’s sloppy, honestly.

A flirty ambush, a stab to the neck with a dull pocket knife, a stolen keycard, and she’s inside. She drags the body in, too, leaving no trace of her crime behind.

Her fingers rummage through differently labeled flasks. There’s plenty of blue and yellow, but not the poisonous green she’s looking for.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” she mutters to herself as she desperately searches every drawer, every goddamn cabinet of the laboratory.

Out of breath, she stops and grips her temples, shoulders slumping as her mind spins. She wants to curse and scream, but that would draw too much attention. She knows she’s running out of time. No one takes that long to fucking pee. Decisions have to be made quickly.

She grabs a blue vial.

Rolling down her sleeves, she walks nervously back into the control room. Neither Mallory nor Edgar pays her any mind. Everyone’s eyes are glued to Soldier Boy and Homelander. Father and son. It’s biblical.

It’s as if she isn’t even there.

Her veins twitch, her blood boils. It’s tingling in her fingertips.

“Little help would be fucking appreciated!” Ben yells as he wrangles with a defunct Homelander.

Stan Edgar’s smile. So vicious. So cold. So calculating.

She knows the air in the room is about to shift. Her hands ball into fists by her side, gather their energy.

He gives his command. She screams.

“No! That wasn’t the fucking deal!”

Edgar doesn’t even look at her fully. A sideways glance is all she’s worth. “Take her out, too.”

Mallory sees it first, her eyes widening when she realizes what’s going on. It’s too late to warn anyone, however, her cries for help unheard as the acid rots her throat.

Edgar and two guards are next, metal weapons melt and mix with a puddle of human soup on the ground. Then, she goes after the one that got away.

The third guard hurries inside the prison cell, but Y/N slips through the crack of the door before it slams shut. The first gunshot goes clean through Homelander’s spine, but the second is deterred and only strikes Ben’s arm as the guard bubbles to a pond, a hot spring in the concrete.

Ben clutches his bleeding wound with a hiss before his green eyes lock with hers. They widen, and it takes him a moment to make sense of it all.

“Y/N, what–”

He takes a step forward. She takes a step back.

“Don’t come near me,” she orders him with panic blinking in her eyes like a flashing alarm. Her chest rises and falls with every anxious breath.

He holds his palms up high, surrendering. “It’s okay.”

Ben carefully walks around her and steps over the bubbling human puddle on the floor. He peeks outside the door, purses his lips, and nods in impressed satisfaction.

“Those little blobs outside–”

Y/N bobs her head at his unfinished question. “Mallory and Edgar plus two guards,” she replies.

“Nice job.” He whistles lowly and shoots her a devilish grin, taking a step closer. “Gotta say, I’ve never been more turned on by you. I’m getting fucking hard.”

“Ben!” Y/N scolds and backs away from him until she’s pressed against the wall. “I told you, don’t touch me,” she warns him again.

Ben’s smile fades as he recognizes her fear. His features soften, the jokes disappear. “Hey, it’s alright. Twenty-four hours and you’ll be fine again. Just gotta get through it.”

Y/N shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. Ben’s brow knits in confusion, his face stern.

“What-… Why are you shaking your head?”

A tear escapes and streaks her cheek. “It won’t go away in twenty-four hours,” she chokes out. “They were out of Temp V.”

Ben’s face drops at the realization. “No, no, no… Tell me you didn’t fucking do this!” he yells.

“They were going to kill you! What was I supposed to do?” Y/N explains tearfully.

“Die, Y/N! You were supposed to let me fucking die!” Ben’s jaw tightens as anger surges through his body.

“I didn’t let you die the first time! What made you think I would let you fucking die right now, huh?” Y/N cries through gritted teeth, her hands balling into fists. “Stop trying to kill yourself. You fucking promised me!”

Licking his lips, Ben swallows. He’s quiet, running a palm over his face while his mind races a mile a minute. “Okay… alright,” he says finally, his voice significantly calmer now. “Where did you get the Compound V from?”

“There’s a lab here,” she replies in the same calm manner.

“They got more?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Ben nods and finds her eyes. “Show me.”

Y/N presses her lips into a thin line, shaking her head once more. “No.”

His anger returns, nostrils flaring as his brow creases. “What d’you mean no?”

She swallows thickly. “Look, if you really wanna do this, then I won’t stop you,” she says, a pleading glimmer haunting her eyes. “But you finally got a chance. You can live the normal, boring life. You can go on road trips, see Mount Rushmore… I know you want to.”

Ben swipes his tongue over his teeth and averts his gaze. He pinches the bridge of his freckled nose, and Y/N can see that she’s right.

“I’m not even sure if I want powers,” she continues after a pause. “But at least this time it was my choice. And I don’t regret it if it means I got to save you, okay?”

When Ben finally looks at her, it breaks her heart. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

Y/N gives him a sad smile. “I know… And you won’t be. I promise.”

Their attention is then temporarily drawn to a groan on the ground. Y/N’s brow furrows as she looks at Homelander’s body and notices his fingers twitching.

“Is he still alive?”

“Looks like it,” Ben replies. But as Y/N gets ready to take care of the problem, he stops her, holding out his flat palm. “Wait, wait, wait… Judging by the wound, he’s gonna be a fucking vegetable. It’s a waste of a kill.” He then grins mischievously at her. “I’ve got a better fucking idea. The other question is: how the fuck do we get outta this place… alive?”

Y/N’s mouth opens, but she doesn’t have an answer aside from a helpless shrug for him. This is as far as she has planned. Actually, she hasn’t planned any of this at all.

“I might be able to help with that,” a woman’s voice sounds behind her.

Y/N’s eyes widen as she recognizes the newcomer, her mouth parting anew in both surprise and shock. Ben, on the other hand, furrows his brow and glares at the stranger as if she had just spoken Russian.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ben prompts and then leans closer to Y/N, whispering in her ear, “Kill her.”

Y/N frowns, but her eyes are glued to the young woman in front of her, the familiarity sinking in. “I can’t,” she grits through her teeth.

“Why the fuck not?” Ben asks now loud enough for everyone to hear, including their guest.

“Because I’m the president,” the woman replies, smiling complacently. “And an old friend.”

Ben’s brow creases even more. “President of what? Cunt-town?”

“The United States, Ben,” Y/N tells him flatly. If she could kick his leg right now, she would. Leave it to her husband to get them both killed.

“Wait, a skirt is president?” Ben arches an eyebrow and mutters, “No wonder this country’s going to shit…”

“Charming,” Victoria Neuman says with a small sigh, but seemingly unbothered by the old-school views. Much like Y/N, she ignores the comment and doesn’t take offense to it. “I can see why you married him,” she adds wryly, looking at Y/N.

“Technically, she wasn’t elected. She was Vice President till President Singer died… accidentally,” Y/N explains, knowing Ben only reads the paper for the sports section and the comic strip. She swallows the thick lump in her throat, her heart thrashing wildly in her chest.

“Ah, I know what that’s code for.” Ben smirks coolly. “Bold move. I can fucking respect that.”

“Yeah, God knows some old fuck’s approval is what I’m looking for,” Neuman taunts, the sarcasm dripping from her red-painted lips.

Ben’s face drops as a bit of anger bubbles up inside of him. That bitch is lucky he’s V-free. He forces a tight-lipped smile. “I’m just saying I would’ve done the same thing, okay?”

“No offense, but you’re too much of a moron for that,” Neuman replies dryly.

Ben’s nostrils flare as he grits, “Offense fucking taken.”

“Okay!” Y/N tries to cut the tension with a nervous chuckle, pushing herself between Neuman and Ben. “How about you just tell us what we have to do to get out of this one?”

“See? She’s smart,” Neuman says and smirks at Ben. “I’ve always liked you, Y/N. You know, when Stan and Grace told me their plan of getting you two involved, I warned them. But they just wouldn’t listen. Everyone always underestimates the orphan. I should know, and so do you. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“Yeah, guess we’re MVP, after all, Nadia,” Y/N says and makes it a point to emphasize her real name.

Victoria just smiles in response. “So, since you took care of two problems for me, one in here and one out there, I have a proposal for you.”

“What is it?” Y/N knows she’s really out of choices. Either she agrees, or Ben and her will spend the afterlife together.

“I need a new Chief of Staff. I want you to do it. You’re smart, driven, and I know you wanna change shit around here. You wanna make a difference? This is your chance,” Neuman proposes. “You can’t take the cure again. It’s going to kill you. Trust me, we’ve done studies, and the results are not pretty.”

Y/N thinks for a few breaths. “What about Ben?”

“I guess he can live. It’s not like he’s a threat to anyone,” Neuman says and almost sounds bored. “Hell, for all I care, we can even make Soldier Boy a reformed hero for dealing with Homelander. He dies heroically in battle and quietly lives out his retirement in fucking Florida or some shit. We get him a big fucking statue. It’s good publicity.”

Y/N shares a look with Ben. “What d’you think?”

Thoughtfully, Ben clicks his tongue. He supposes it’s the best deal they can get, and declining it would probably get them nowhere, although he hates everything about it.

Swallowing, the former supe nods. “Alright, let’s fucking do this,” he agrees and states his conditions, “But for the record, I’m not moving to shit-ass Florida. I want a nice lake house in Minnesota.”

Victoria rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever. Minnesota it is.”

“You okay? You ready?” Y/N checks as Ben has made it up the stone steps and halts in front of the big, red door.

“I don’t know. You really think this is a good idea? I’m not sure I can do this,” Ben says and insecurely eyes the entrance.

“You’ll do great, alright?” Y/N smiles encouragingly. “I believe in you.”

“I don’t wanna do this alone. What if I fuck up?” Ben asks.

Amused, Y/N chuckles. “Oh, you’re for sure gonna fuck up.”

The green-eyed man scowls. “That’s fucking reassuring. Thanks.”

“Look, this way you won’t be alone. I’ll wire you money every month and check in as much as I can, alright? You can always call me. This isn’t the end,” Y/N soothes his worries. “Maybe one day there’s a cure that’ll work, and we can be together again for real.”

She forces a weak smile to her lips, although she doesn’t believe her own words. But as long as Ben believes them, it’s enough.

“Okay.” Ben nods and takes a deep breath – in through his nose and out through his mouth. “I think I’m ready now.”

“Good.” Y/N sends him a smile. “You thought of a new name yet?”

“I’m still marinating on it,” Ben grumbles.

“Well, marinate faster. I have to introduce you.”

As they enter the orphanage, Y/N checks them in at the reception and fills out all necessary forms. Ben taps his foot nervously and scratches the back of his neck as they wait before one of Y/N’s former colleagues walks in with a little boy in hand, who’s no older than five.

Ben tries to smile but isn’t sure if it looks creepy, so he stops and opts for a more neutral expression. Y/N, however, immediately kneels down to the young boy and smiles brightly at him. It causes Ben’s heart to ache. She deserved to have all of this, but instead, she gave it all up for him.

“Hey, Benny,” she greets the boy. “You ready to meet your new adoptive parent?”

The boy scrunches his brow in careful suspicion as he eyes his future father-to-be. “I guess so,” he says. “Is that him? He looks like he drives a fucking minivan and offers candy to kids. Are you sure he’s not a pedo, Ms. Y/N?”

Ben purses his lips, biting the insides of his cheeks. The initial smile was definitely a mistake. They’re not off to a good start.

Y/N presses her lips together to muffle her snort. “Yes, Benny, I’m sure,” she replies patiently. “He’s cool, trust me.”

“Fine, whatever.” The kid rolls his eyes. “As long as he’s not fucking vegan like Ms. Teresa. They’re the worst.”

“Ugh, agreed! Do I look like a fucking plant-shitter to you?” Ben asks the boy rhetorically.

“No, you look like a fucking pedo to me,” the boy retorts.

Ben grins broadly at Y/N. “I like the kid. I think I get what you mean now. I see the resemblance.”

“Well, great. Glad you two are hitting it off… I think,” Y/N says with a crinkled brow, although a part of her is doubting her idea. Honestly, it’s wild she’s trusting him with a child. A year ago she would’ve thought that it was insane. “Alright, uh, Benny, this is, uhm–”

“Sam,” Ben proudly introduces himself with his fake name and shakes the kid’s hand. He then notices Y/N’s strange look. “What?”

“Nothing, just… you don’t really strike me as a Sam. That’s all,” she tells him in a whisper-tone, shrugging.

“Oh, really? Well, I don’t give a fuck. I love it,” Ben quips, grinning rather smugly.

“Fine.” Y/N sighs. She turns back to little Ben with a smile. “You guys ready to hit the road?”

“Where are we going?” Benny asks curiously and promptly takes Ben’s hand, dragging the older man through the doors. He’s been waiting to get out of the orphanage for a while, the excitement of finally being able to leave visible in every step he takes.

It’s a fresh start for both of them.

“Uh, Mount Rushmore,” Ben answers.

“Cool! Can we get burgers on the way there? I’m starving.”

“Sure can, kid.”

Y/N can see Ben’s initial hesitance until he eventually accepts it and eases into the situation, holding the boy’s hand tightly. He helps the kid into the car, even puts the seatbelt on, and shuts the door behind him.

Her heart twinges as she watches the two, wishing she could go with them if things were different. However, she knows the risk is too big. She would never forgive herself if she hurt either of them. She doesn’t trust herself enough yet. Maybe someday she can.

“You okay?” Ben asks as he sees the unshed tears brimming in her eyes. He’d dreaded this day for the past few weeks, hoping she’d still change her mind. He hates that this is goodbye, but he supposes he has to set her free now.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Y/N says with a forced smile, but a tear escapes and rolls down her cheek.

“C’mere.”

Y/N protests as Ben slings his arms around her and pulls her flush against him, holding her tightly. He hasn’t touched her since that night, but he doesn’t care anymore. He presses his lips against hers and tastes her one last time.

Breathlessly, Y/N withdraws and sniffles. “Are you fucking insane? I could kill you.”

Ben simply smiles at her. “Hey, if I die kissing you, then that’s a fucking great way to go out. ‘Sides, insanity is contagious,” he quips and sends her a wink. “Thank you… for everything, you know?”

“You’re welcome,” she says quietly and swallows harshly as the tears fall freely now. Not every film has a happy ending. “I guess I’ve done my job as your sponsor. You’ve been successfully rehabilitated.”

Ben snorts. “If by that you mean I’m fucking boring and responsible now then yeah, you’ve done your job.”

“You won’t be bored for long. The kid’s already trying to hotwire the car,” Y/N tells him, laughing.

“Wha–” Ben spins around and points a warning finger at the boy. “Ay! Hands in your fucking lap!”

The kid raises his palms in surrender and yells, “Hurry the fuck up!”

With a shaking head, Ben turns back to her. “Gotta watch that kid like an eagle,” he mutters. He exhales a dreaded breath and licks his lips. “So, I guess this is goodbye, huh?”

Y/N smiles softly, the corners of her mouth reaching her dimples. “Maybe.”

Little Ben gets me every time 😂 Alright, now you may yell and complain, but I love this bittersweet ending 🥲 (But of course, you're welcome to send in requests. Whether it's deleted scenes, bonus shots of a potential future, or some fun Big Ben/Little Ben drabbles)

Thank you so much for reading, for your gifs and comments! It's so appreciated! Without them, this would only be half the fun 🤍

I'll announce future plans soon. The final five of Plastic Hearts will probably be next up. Get ready 'cause it's another wild one! 🌟

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @imsapphine @globetrotter28

Series Tags: @nancymcl @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @sparkydonugh

#christen reads #christen’s fic recommendation #christen’s fic rec #christen's fic recommendations #christen's fic recs #fic recommendations #fic recommendation #fic recs #fic rec #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fic recs

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xlynnbbyx · 29 days

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WAYNE I both hate and love you for this! Of course I mostly love you but this was a rollercoaster OMG! THEY GOT MARRIED!!! She really is good for Ben she brought out a side in him that he had hid for many many years. She definitely is his other half the ying to his yang. I really really want this to end with them being in Hawaii together having a great time. I wanna see Ben showing her around Pearl Harbor like he said he wanted. I wanna see Ben finally get to be a father to a normal child! More so a daughter cause I think really Ben was meant to be a girl dad. I want that so bad but sadly I don't think it will happen. The title is Sid & Nancy they even referred to themselves that way. We all know how that ended as both Sid & Nancy are dead. Although in that case Sid supposedly killed Nancy then ended up killing himself really. But in this case I think it is Edgar killing Nancy's Sid. I fear she has lost her Sid but I do suspect she may have a part of him that will stay with her. I still think she is pregnant so she will always have a part of Ben. The fact that Ben suspect he won't survive it and say he is ready to die breaks my heart so bad. I want Ben to have that life with her so bad! But you did amazing with this mini series Wayne! I can't wait for tomorrow for the Epilogue to see how you end this. I want to see if my suspicions are right but I'm still not ready for it at all.

Preview of me after reading the epilogue tomorrow:

Rehab – Chapter 8

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, some fun moments, fluff, smut, angst (aka the holy trinity)

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: Can't believe we're here! One more chapter and an epilogue, and then we're done! Thank you so much for all your support. I really appreciate it 🤍🥹 Now, hold on tight! 😉

Feedback is my fuel 🖤

<< Chapter 7 || Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Chapter 8: sid & nancy

“Y/N, we’re gonna be late, my love! City Hall just had one slot left,” Ben calls out to the bathroom door.

Nervously, he paces the hotel room. He checks his watch once more before plopping down on the king-sized mattress, blowing some air out between his lips. At least the CIA picked a nice hotel when they flew them out to DC.

The agency even granted the couple one more night of freedom before Ben was supposed to uphold his end of the bargain. The former supe then had an idea to do something special. Something he’s never done before in his life – quite the achievement, considering he’s over a century old.

Ben supposes there’s a first time for everything.

“In a minute!” Y/N yells her reply, her voice carrying a little annoyance. He might’ve hurried her more than once already.

“You know, I put on a fucking suit just for you,” Ben says as if it would make her be ready any faster and earn him some brownie points on top of it.

“Yeah, well, I put on a fucking dress just for you,” Y/N replies with a raised brow behind him as she walks out. She smiles shyly at him.

Ben’s never seen her flustered before, but he has to admit the pink cheeks suit her well. Just like him, Y/N had a hard shell when he first met her, impenetrable for most but not him. Y/N gave him her heart, and he gave his right back to her, hoping neither of them drops it.

In the past, he used to torch the butterflies in his stomach and rip off their wings, calling it a precaution. Now, he wants them to stay for an eternity and multiply, calling it a miracle.

“What d’you think? Is this good enough to get married in?” Y/N insecurely looks down on herself and spins, her short, white satin dress twirling with her. It’s the best she could find on short notice.

Ben’s lips twitch to a smile. “You look fucking beautiful, my love.”

Y/N beams like pure sunshine on a warm summer’s day, her cheeks flushing even deeper red. “I love when you say that. ‘My love.’ Sounds so old-school. Like James Stewart saying it to Donna Reed.”

“Hey, I love that movie,” Ben interjects, grinning.

“Me too! Glad we found something in common before we get married,” Y/N jokes as she slips into her cream-white high heels, the ivory glow of the moonlight through the big balcony window letting her shine even brighter.

“Finally! I was worried there for a second,” Ben says, laughing. Truthfully, though, he’s never been surer of anything in his life. “What about you? Any doubts about marrying me?”

“Oh, tons, but I’ll do it anyways,” Y/N quips. “As my generation likes to say – you only live once.”

“Yeah, and sometimes for a really long time,” Ben adds with a huff and saunters over to her as she checks herself in the full-length mirror and straightens out the fabric of her dress.

He wraps his arms around her hips from behind and pulls her flush against him, placing a sweet kiss on her cheek and one on her lips.

“There’s one thing missing,” he notes then and pulls something out of his suit pocket. She spins in his embrace, resting her palms on his biceps. “It’s not that old, but not that new either. It’s not borrowed, and it’s definitely not blue.”

Y/N laughs loudly, shaking her head. “You’re such a dork. What is it?”

Ben then opens his palm and reveals the green friendship bracelet lying in it. “May I?” he asks. Y/N nods as tears brim in her eyes, and Ben slips it back onto her wrist where it belongs.

“My friendship bracelet… You kept it. This is better than any ring,” Y/N says happily, her fingers tracing the worn emerald threads.

Ben chuckles and rubs his bearded jaw. “Guess I got lucky there. Always thought you ladies wanted fucking diamonds.”

“Well, I’m not gonna say no to one on our first anniversary,” Y/N retorts lightheartedly.

“Oh? Is that so, huh?” Ben laughs. “You mind if it’s stolen?”

Y/N shakes her head playfully and claims his plump lips, holding onto the lapels of his suit jacket. When their lips lose connection, however, wrinkles of worry spread on her brow.

“You okay? You know I was just joking about you having doubts, but if you do–”

Y/N quickly shakes away his fear. “No, no, it’s not that. I’m just worried, you know? About tomorrow… That plan is insane. I don’t have a good feeling about this, Ben.”

Ben nods and scratches his beard. “I know, my love. But we’ve talked about this. It’s the only way out. It’ll be fine, alright?” he tries to soothe her concerns and rubs her upper arms. “I wish you wouldn’t insist on coming with me, though. If something goes wrong…”

“Then I’ll be right there with you, Sid,” Y/N maintains. She’d never let him go on his own. “I know you don’t know that, but that’s what it truly means to be a team. You rise together, and you fall together. ‘Sides, they do say insanity is contagious.”

Thoughtfully, Ben bobs his head, his brow scrunching above his freckled nose. “Catch-22!” He snaps his fingers as if a lightbulb went on in his mind before a proud grin forms on his lips. “That quote is from Catch-22.”

Perplexed, Y/N furrows her brow. “Yes, how did you know that?”

“I’ve read books,” he boasts full of pride and beams a smile. Her mouth parts in surprise. “When I was locked up, they didn’t let me have a TV, but I was allowed books from the library. So I asked which ones you’ve read, and they brought me some.”

“Huh. And here I thought I was marrying an illiterate idiot,” Y/N sasses teasingly, giggling.

“Ouch! Hey! I always could fucking read, okay? I just chose not to,” he defends.

“Uh-huh, so sexy…” Y/N snorts in amusement. “So? What books did you read?”

“Well, I liked the war ones,” Ben remarks, making Y/N chuckle.

“Figures.”

Ben ponders for a moment before he lists off, “I’ve read Hemingway. A Farewell to Arms, For Whom the Bell Tolls. Uhm… Faulkner! The Sound and the Fury. The red line thingy… Ooh, that woman‘s choice!”

Y/N’s brow raises. “Sophie’s Choice?”

“Yeah, that one,” Ben confirms simply.

“Really? You read that book? You?” Y/N tries not to sound offensive. She really does.

Ben frowns, shrugging. “That’s what I just fucking said. Are you deaf?” Then, he grins smugly. “Also read that 50 Shades book. Hey, you think we can have a sex room in our house?”

Y/N’s face drops, sighing. She smacks her lips. “Loving you is like riding a rollercoaster.”

“Thank you.” Ben blushes, taking it as a compliment, causing his bride-to-be to giggle. He reaches out his hand for Y/N to take. “Now, let’s get married, my love, so we can get this forever thing started.”

Y/N nods and places her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. “One last thing, though, before we go.”

The former supe cocks an impatient brow, close to rolling back his green eyes. He scoffs. “What now, woman? They’re gonna give our slot away, you know…”

Y/N’s lips shape into a broad and mischievous grin. “Ben? What’s your last name?”

In response, Ben only snorts a loud laugh and shakes his head, kissing her cheek.

Y/N’s heart pounds a million beats per second. An impossible number, sure, but it certainly feels like it as she stands in the small, gray, and bleak control room in some undisclosed government facility. Grace Mallory, Stan Edgar, and a handful of nameless guards are gathered in front of a one-way mirror, staring at an even more depressing cell that holds the most dangerous man on the planet.

Don’t tell Ben she said that.

The facility is one of those places that’s not supposed to exist, serving as the perfect hiding spot for America’s most feared superhero.

A monster in red, white, and blue.

In nerve-racking circles, Y/N twists the golden band on her ring finger that’s sat there since last night. It’s new and unblemished, not a dent or scratch in sight, and yet, it feels like she’s been wearing it a lifetime.

She lets go of the lip she’s chewed to a bleeding degree and softly smiles at the memory when Ben slipped it on her finger. A slow and careful movement as if he could break her or scare her away. She wishes they could’ve had more time together, explored life and each other. But Ben assured her, even promised her, that they had all the time in the world.

“A century, my love,” he’d said.

But Y/N’s stomach churns in warning, her thundering heartbeat ringing in her ears now. She doesn’t trust the two high-profile puppet masters next to her. It all seems too easy, too good to be true.

But what choice do they have? They’d be crazy to agree to this deal and sane to decline it, leaving them with nothing either way. A Catch-22.

There’s no way out. Y/N doesn’t have her powers anymore, and neither does Ben. She never thought she would wish them back. It seems like asking for a curse from God. But right now, all she wants to do is melt the flesh off Mallory’s and Edgar’s bones, grab her lover’s hand, and make a run for it.

Destination: sunset.

Would that really be so bad? After all, bad people deserve what’s coming to them. Is karma a thing of the past like Soldier Boy? Ben already paid his price twice over.

But have they?

Laughing, the two run down the stone steps of City Hall. Ben then catches her and twirls her into his arms, claiming her lips in a searing kiss. Y/N’s giggles interrupt his intentions as his palms wander from her hips to her butt.

“So? What do you wanna do now, Mrs. Hunt?” Ben asks, smirking mischievously as he wiggles his eyebrows. “Back to the fucking hotel to consummate the marriage?”

With pursed lips, Y/N muses for a second and then shakes her head. “Not yet, husband. I want a… steak. Bloody. It’s only right to buy a lady dinner beforehand.”

Ben nods in agreement. “Some protein before I tire you out. Good thinking.”

“Right, ‘cause I’m the one who tires out so easily,” Y/N sasses, her tongue playfully darting out between her pink lips.

“Watch it,” Ben warns her with a hint of a grin. “Or I’ll spank that tight little ass of yours.”

But she only laughs louder at that. “Can’t fucking wait.”

“I’m fucking ready. Let’s get this shit over with,” Ben announces as he enters the control room, dressed from head to toe in his old suit.

Y/N’s heart stops in her chest, her breathing halting with it. She’s never seen him before like this, only remembering Soldier Boy from pictures in her childhood. She almost doesn’t recognize him. He looks nothing like the guy she’s fallen in love with.

He resembles just another monster.

Ben adjusts his bulletproof vest underneath his green suit, feeling strangely out of place. The vest, however, isn’t supposed to keep bullets away but is specifically designed to fend off superpowers. It’s untested, though. Not that it would matter. There’s still a perfectly fine head and four limbs to laser off.

“Good.” Stan Edgar nods, satisfied. “Now, let’s go over it one more ti–”

“Nah, no need. I don’t need a fucking briefing.” Ben scoffs in repulsion. “I know what to fucking do, alright? I can handle that pathetic pussy.”

The arrogant smirk he flashes both Mallory and Edgar, however, is nothing more than a lie. He tries his hardest to think and act like Soldier Boy, but that’s just it – it’s all an act. That guy is long gone and buried so deep he can’t possibly be revived. Now, Ben’s just trying to survive with what he has left and hopes the facade doesn’t crumble.

“Fine, as you wish,” Edgar replies dryly, probably hoping that his arrogance gets him killed. It’s one less problem to solve for Vought.

The former CEO then glances and nods at a guard, who quickly brings over a silver tray with a syringe, which holds a yellow liquid inside. Y/N recognizes it as the cure they once gave her, too.

“What happens if it doesn’t work?” Y/N voices her concern. She knows it’s not a full cure-all. Some supes need more than one jab. Ben, however, only has one shot.

“It’ll work. Don’t worry,” Mallory assures her with a cold look. “It’s a higher and more potent dose. Our scientists have tested it on his blood beforehand. We can’t risk it failing.”

Somehow, Y/N believes her. She knows Homelander would burn the entire world down if he ever escaped. The CIA might be ruthless, but they aren’t downright crazy.

“Great.” Ben shrugs coolly and takes the syringe, inspecting it closely. “So I’ll jam this little fucking thingy into his throat, and that princess in there turns back into a fucking pumpkin?”

“Not how I would have phrased it, but yes,” Edgar replies, his obvious annoyance only overshadowed by his arrogance and poshness.

“Alright,” Ben says and rubs his palms together after carefully storing the syringe in his back pocket. He saunters to Y/N and rests his hands on her hips before throwing a glare over his shoulder to his audience. “Mind giving me a fucking minute alone with my wife?”

Y/N finishes her last bite and lets it deliciously melt on her tongue. She leans back in her chair with a full belly. “God, this was so good…”

“Agreed.” Ben chuckles and takes a sip from his top-shelf whiskey, his plate completely cleaned off as well. “Although, that’s not the last time you’ll say this tonight, my love.”

“Oh yeah? You up for the challenge, old man?” Y/N smirks slyly.

Ben laughs wholeheartedly. “Always. You’re gonna wish you got me more drunk. I’m gonna make you mine in every possible way.”

“I’m already yours,” Y/N replies sweetly, smiling.

Ben grabs a hold of her hand on the table, drawing circles with his thumb on the back of it. “Yeah, you are. Lucky fucking me.” Tenderly, he pecks her knuckles. “So, where do you wanna go for our honeymoon?”

“Wow, okay, we’re doing that, huh?”

“Oh, we’re doing the full program, baby.” Ben grins broadly.

“Alright, fine,” Y/N accepts and muses, “How about Japan? I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“Nuh-uh, over my dead body.” Ben shakes his head and takes another sip of liquor, scoffing. “They’re all Commies and Nazis over there.”

Amused by his reply, Y/N rolls her eyes slightly. Honestly, she hasn’t expected anything less from him. “You do know those two ideologies are mutually exclusive, right?”

“No, they ain’t. Trust me on that one,” Ben mutters.

“Okay, fine.” Y/N sighs and suggests, “What about Mexico? It’s closer.”

“No, thanks. I don’t speak Mexican,” Ben huffs and nurses his whiskey.

“It’s Spanish. And I know that you know that,” Y/N says. At this point, she knows he’s only messing with her, the little smirk on his plump lips confirming her suspicions.

“You know America is a beautiful country.”

“Alright, gramps, where do you wanna go, huh?” Y/N asks curiously. “Vegas?”

Ben twitches his shoulders. “Not the worst idea. Or, you know, Mount Rushmore.”

Y/N frowns deeply and is quite frankly baffled by the strange request. “The one in South Dakota? If you think looking at the faces of four old white men is gonna get me in the mood to fuck you, then you’re sadly mistaken.”

“Really? I thought you were into kinky shit like that,” Ben teases, chuckling devilishly. “But I was a boy when they started sculpting it. Always wanted to go. Never got the chance…” He lets out a little sigh full of sadness and missed opportunities and shoots her an expectant look.

“Okay, you manipulative asshole, now you’re making me feel sad for you. Fine, we can go,” Y/N relents and sees Ben smirk widely. “But after our honeymoon. I wanna go somewhere nice first. How about Hawaii?”

“Now, we’re talking!” Ben grins appreciatively, Y/N’s hope of a nice vacation rising. “I can show you around Pearl Harbor.”

Y/N exhaustively throws her head back and runs a palm over her face. “Dear Lord! What did I get into here? It’s like vacationing with Clark Griswold…”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” Y/N shakes her head, a few giggles escaping her upon her husband’s confused look. She supposes he must’ve missed out on those movies. “Ben, I just wanna sip fruity cocktails from coconuts, get a massage, and fuck your brains out in a nice hotel suite, alright? Maybe even the beach…”

Pursing his lips, Ben nods. “Yeah, alright. I can get behind that.” Then, a cheeky smirk forms on his sinful lips. “And I’ll get behind you, doll. How’s that?”

With her face resting in his large and safe palms, Ben kisses her deeply, wishing he could stay like this for another lifetime. He wipes the tears that roll down her cheeks away with his thumbs and places one last peck on her forehead.

While it feels like a goodbye, he hopes it’s a hello instead.

Her gaze roams his body from head to toe as if she’s trying to capture him forever. Her hands rest on his chest, fingers carefully tracing the emerald star pattern on his suit. Her brow flutters and wrinkles as she’s trying to make sense of it all.

He lifts her chin and meets her watery and red eyes. “It’ll be fine, okay? It’s still me underneath,” he assures her quietly and clasps her hand, placing it on his beating heart. “This all belongs to you, my love.”

Y/N nods and buries her face in his chest, her tears staining his suit. She wraps her arms around his frame, so tight it becomes a lock.

“I love you,” she says and sniffles.

“I love you, too,” Ben replies and kisses her crown. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Stan Edgar then strolls back into the control room, a clear of his throat drawing the couple’s attention to him. “Ready, Ben?”

Ben exhales a small sigh and gives her one last kiss before turning to Edgar. His demeanor changes, brow creased and green eyes darkened.

“I was born fucking ready,” he replies in feigned arrogance. “And it’s Soldier Boy, you ass-licking beta cuck.”

Ben takes a deep, long breath before his red-gloved hand curls around the doorknob to Homelander’s cell. He flashes one last look at his wife and swallows thickly. Then, he focuses back on his mission and nods at a guard, giving him the command to open the door.

Soldier Boy is ready, but Y/N isn’t.

“Let’s hope his acting improved since the 80s,” Edgar jokes, chuckling with Mallory.

Y/N flashes them a glare, grinding her jaw. She feels the bile rise in her throat. “I have to fucking pee,” she excuses and vanishes out of the control room. No one pays attention to her, except for the guard that lets her out.

Y/N knows they don’t fucking care. She’s not important. Never has been.

“Whoa, whoa! Whatcha doing there?” Ben chides with an arched brow and snatches the keycard from her hands.

“Uhm, I’m trying to open the door,” Y/N replies and frowns as the pair stands in the hallway of their hotel.

“Not on my fucking watch you are,” Ben says with a chuckle, but before she can open her mouth in confusion, he lifts her off her feet and has her in his arms – bridal style. “It’s tradition.”

“Oh, okay.” Y/N laughs in understanding and wraps her arms around his neck. “I’m honestly surprised you know that,” she quips as he opens the door and carries her into the room.

“I told you – full fucking program, baby.” Ben smirks and ceremoniously plops her down on the mattress, listening to her giggles.

The bed dips on either side of hers as he cages her in with two strong arms. His full body weight presses down on her, his cock heavy and thick rutting against her cunt through thin fabric that doesn’t hide much. He chases her lips and rips the straps of her dress.

“Ben!” Y/N scolds his roughness through his tender kisses.

“Oh, don’t you worry. You’re not gonna wear white anymore after I’m fucking done with you,” Ben growls with a deep chuckle and devours her neck, sucking her skin between his sharp teeth. He plans to mark every inch of his wife tonight, make her his in every possible way.

His fingers open the zipper in the back, pulling the satin material down till she’s left in ivory lace. He eyes her for a moment and takes a mental image as she lies spread out before him. Her body, her heart, her soul – it’s all fucking his.

Her tits heave with each labored breath as he kisses a pathway down to her cunt. His hot breath tickles her clit before his teeth grab hold of the waistband and tear it down over her knees. He uses his hand for the rest of the way, his face already diving back into her pussy before the lingerie hits the floor.

His beard burns and scratches her sensitive nerve endings as his digits thrust violently into her tight channel. She tries to count them but can’t tell if it’s three or four as they stretch her cunt open. She can tell, however, when his spit-wet pinky slips inside her puckered hole.

Her moans grow louder, little cheers for him. His fingers then curl and hit the spot in the back. His tongue flicks her clit till she white-knuckles the satin bedsheets. She drips like a faucet, but that only spurs him on, sucking and fucking her harder.

“Shit, shit, shit!” she whimpers and squeezes her eyes shut as her toes curl, the coil inside her belly threatening to snap.

And then, he stops.

“You fucking asshole,” Y/N screams in frustration and hears him laugh loudly like the devil personified.

She manages to hit his chest once before he swings her around. She falls face first into the soft mattress, a breathless sigh leaving her lips. He slaps her asscheek hard, his handprint burning into her skin like a permanent tattoo, while her arousal trickles onto the sheets underneath.

“Didn’t think I’d let you come without my cock inside of you,” he says. He lifts her ass higher and spreads her knees wider, his dickhead nudging at her entrance. He swipes two fingers through her wet slit and licks them clean. “Geez, you’re fucking soaked. Got a little excited there, did ya?”

“Yes,” she pants needily. “Please fuck me, baby.”

He chuckles and caresses the globes of her ass with all the patience in the world. “Christ on a cross, I knew you love being a whore for me, but this is some new fucking level, baby girl.”

“Ben, please,” she begs needily, her cunt aching to be filled as the emptiness drives her mad.

“Alright, you know what they say – happy wife, happy life.” Ben chuckles and pushes inside, filling her to the brim.

Her walls stretch around his thick cock, burning with pleasure at the sensation. She’s fully stuffed, no more room to fill her as his balls slap against her flesh. And then, he fucks her, hard and wild, rough and fast, thrusts in and out until they both collapse on the bed with coarse screams of their names.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Ben asks, his skin glistening with sweat as he lies next to her, running a hand through his damp hair.

Y/N checks her watch. “Forty-six minutes. New record,” she replies with a wide grin that’s even visible in the darkness of the room.

“Good.” He nods and smiles, satisfied. “I’d like to go out with a fucking bang.”

Her face falls at his words, her heart aches. “Ben…”

“It’s okay,” he says and fights to uphold his smile. He takes her hand, interlacing their fingers, and pecks her knuckles. “I’ve had a long life. I’m ready to die.”

“Don’t say that,” she pleads, the tears stinging her eyes as she chokes on her words. It gets harder and harder to breathe. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yeah, I do,” he disagrees softly and stares at the ceiling above. He swallows. “I’ve thought a lot about this, you know? I always thought I needed fucking superpowers to be a hero… to be happy, but I don’t. All the fame, the glory, and the money… I have none of it. And yet, this last year was the best fucking one of my life.” He gifts her a smile that’s only meant for her. “If I do this, I’ll save the world. You and I both know he’s gonna destroy it if no one stops him.”

“That someone doesn’t have to be you, though,” Y/N counters. She feels desperate, trying to get through to him, but no matter what she tries, she can see the determination shimmering in his green eyes. It won’t leave.

“It does. It’s my fucking chance to make it right… To do something good,” Ben says quietly. “Make people proud.”

“Ben–”

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” he interjects. He then turns his head and finds her eyes. “Please, Y/N? I just wanna be here with you.”

Y/N sighs, every bone in her body fighting the urge to say more – to stop him. Reluctantly, she nods. “Okay, I’m here.”

She climbs atop his body, her thighs straddling him tightly. She leans down, kisses him so deeply and passionately he feels her love for him seep into his goddamn bone marrow.

Her hunger is insatiable as she pales herself on his cock and rocks her hips. Her movements are so slow and deliberate, they could be mistaken for a spell to stop time. She sure as hell tries to fight the morning light.

Every kiss, every touch, every prayer of his name is a love poem written solely for him.

Ben’s heart thunders like a rock concert in his chest as he sets his first careful step inside the eagle’s nest. If he died from a coronary right now, wouldn’t that be ironic?

Like Papa Eagle, he stays in the shadows for a moment and watches his brood, assessing the situation. The fact that he’s not a pile of dust on the ground yet is a good sign.

Ben knows his son is aware he’s here. He has noticed the pussy’s ears perk up with interest as he walked in. His stomach twists at the thought that the pathetic mess in front of him is his own cursed blood. Calling him anything but an abomination seems out of place.

This is why humans shouldn’t play fucking God.

“What d’you want?” Homelander prompts. His back is turned as he faces the wall, acting like Ben isn't even worth a glance. His tone, however, gives his true feelings away. It's hurt mixed with rejection. He wants the attention and is waiting for some groveling.

Jesus fuck, even his voice sounds whiny. Ben strains himself to keep his eyes from rolling.

“I've worked out a deal with the CIA. I’m here to help,” Ben says and takes a brave step forward, trying his hardest not to let a single muscle tremble.

Being courageous is something entirely different when you don’t have superpowers. Alas, he pretends they’re still there.

Homelander scoffs, chuckling.

“And apologize,” Ben adds with all the sincerity he can muster. He certainly has learned a ton over this past year and is willing to put it all to the test right now.

Rule #1: An apology goes a long way.

“I’m sorry, son. I shouldn’t have let that fucking Butcher drive a wedge between us,” Ben continues.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Homelander agrees and finally faces him, pouting like a fucking toddler.

Rule #2: If you want to shift blame and guilt-trip someone, admit your flaws.

“I was blinded by my rage. After what the fucking Commies did to me… I hate to admit my weakness, but I guess I was an easy target for these cunts,” Ben explains and takes another step closer.

“Butcher and his friends can be quite manipulative,” Homelander says, nodding in thought.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, son. But I still hope you find it in your heart to forgive me,” Ben pleads.

Homelander looks up at him, tears welling in his eyes. “I had no idea what they did to you in Russia. I would’ve been there for you. I could’ve helped you. But you had to trust fucking Butcher instead of me…”

Rule #3: Empathy is a useful tool for emotional manipulation.

Ben swallows harshly and forces tears to his eyes. “I know, son. I know… I guess you’ve always been stronger than me. I finally see it now. You’re everything I wish I could be…" He takes a deep breath, tries to loosen the tightness in his jaw. "Let’s put the past behind us. Start fresh. Be a family. What d’you say, slugger?”

For a brief moment, Ben thinks he might've gone too far and embellished too much. After all, the guy in front of him is not some naive, dull-witted damsel he's trying to rail.

But Homelander locks gazes with him, his lip quivering. “Daddy?”

Ben smiles warmly and takes one last step forward. He knows he has won. He rests his palm on Homelander's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “I promise I’ll make it right. No more mistakes. I’m so fucking proud of you, son.”

“It’s so good to finally hear you say it,” Homelander cries happily. “Of course, I’ll forgive you.”

Ben leans closer and keeps eye contact with his target. His arms then wrap around the man in blue and pull him in for a hug, patting his back. Stealthily, Ben’s free hand dives into his back pocket and pulls out the syringe. He works fast, too fast for Homelander to make sense of the metaphorical knife in his back as the needle pricks his skin.

The cure works quickly, but not quick enough. Homelander’s powers are on the fritz and go ballistic. Ben’s arm wraps around the guy’s neck, however, and puts him in a strong chokehold. He ducks behind his son, using him as a shield as laser beams shoot chaotically through the room.

Not even a minute later, it all thankfully stops. Scarlet laser beams flicker off like the dead bulb of a lamp.

Homelander manages to free himself from Ben’s grasp and scowls, anger seeping from every pore. He tries to get his laser eyes to work, squeezes and squints with all his remaining power, but they won’t power on. “What the hell did you do to me?”

“Like I said, fixing my mistakes,” Ben reiterates slyly and smirks.

Homelander huffs furiously and swings his fist at Ben’s face, but Ben ducks out of the way, letting his hand hit the concrete wall. It didn’t even leave a dent or a crack.

“Ow! That hurts!” Homelander whines and clasps his surely broken hand.

“Yeah, no shit, you fucking wimp.” Ben scoffs, shaking his head in amusement.

As Homelander charges angrily at him, Ben manages to hold him at bay, caging his arms around him. But the guy‘s still stronger than expected, and it’s a struggle.

“Little help would be fucking appreciated!” Ben yells with a grunt to the door and the one-way mirrored window.

Y/N exhales the breath she’s been holding in for the past few minutes as she stares with parted lips at the scene in front of her. He did it.

He fucking did it. And he’s still alive. It feels like a goddamn miracle.

Ben sends her a small smile through the window. She knows he can’t see her, but she also knows it was meant for her. Her heart pounds a parade in her ribcage.

Happily, her glance drifts to Mallory and Edgar. Ben upheld his deal. They got what they wanted.

Stan Edgar watches quietly as Homelander fights against Ben’s arms, trying to hold him in place. The former CEO remains stoic until an eerie smile twitches on his lips.

Y/N’s hands ball into fists by her side, nails digging into her palm so harshly it’s a surprise she doesn’t bleed. Something is wrong. Something is off. She feels the trembling anxiety and pure rage rise in her chest.

Edgar then turns to a guard, his smile more prominent and morphing to smug as he formulates his order. “Kill them both.”

Y/N screams. Two gunshots echo through the facility.

Rule #4: Beware of double crosses.

Epilogue: twin flames – March 30

Oooh boy... 👀 Welp, let me hear your screams, swoons, and conspiracy theories. I'll see you back tomorrow for the bitter end 😘

TAGS:

Series Tags: @nancymcl @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @sparkydonugh

#soldier boy x reader #christen's fic recs #christen's fic recommendations #fic recommendations #fic recommendation #fic recs #fic rec #christen’s fic rec #christen’s fic recommendation #christen reads

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xlynnbbyx · 1 month

Text

Wayne why are you doing this to me?! WHY?! Even being imprisoned his thoughts was still on her! Ben showing vulnerability was so sweet. Stan showing up was shocking and definitely sus. I wonder if Stan gave Ben her address? 🤔 But glad Ben went to her and laid everything out for her. She definitely was still hung up on him her heart belongs to Ben. Ben now knows his heart belongs to her. He just doesn’t want to admit it out loud fully. But damn it Wayne why couldn’t you give me a full on fluffy sweet make up smut?! His mission is definitely risky he knows it! The fact she wants to go with him shows she does love him. But sadly I don’t think one is going to make it out alive. I sadly have a feeling it will be Ben dying cause no way he would ever let it be her. But I have a feeling she will always have a part of Ben not just his heart always but maybe cough🤰🏻cough. I so want these two to make it out together then runaway together to live a full happy life together! But I know sadly this isn’t going to happen and I’m not ready for it. You owe me a sold fluffy sweet smut & a ultra fluffy happy ending after this Wayne!!

Rehab – Chapter 7

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, light smut, fluff, angst

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the warm responses (and loud screams) last week. Feels good to be back and cause some chaos here. Enjoy this one! It's all downhill from here 💚

Feedback is my fuel 🖤

<< Chapter 6 || Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Chapter 7: make up sex

Ben carefully traces the marks on her skin with his fingertips, her naked back illuminated by the soft spring morning glow that streams in through the window. Tenderly, he kisses a path down her shoulder and hears her giggle at the tickling of his beard.

He loves her. Yet, she’s too good for him. Maybe he could change, though. He feels the endless possibilities pumping through his veins.

“Morning, my love.”

Ben smiles when she stretches her limbs with a blissful yawn and turns to face him. He leans down and claims her lips in a bruising kiss as if they were his newest addiction. Who knows? They might just be.

“Morning, stud.” Y/N’s smile is brighter than the sun and lights the way to his dark heart. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, doll.” Ben kisses her deeply and swallows the cute little giggles that escape through her mouth, his heart full of happiness.

Ben wakes cruelly as a bucket of ice water is dumped over him and hits him full frontal. He shivers as he wipes the remaining water out of his face, hair, and eyes with the hem of his dirty white t-shirt before blinking and glaring at the guard with the sadistic smile in front of him.

“Morning, shithead.” The guard snickers and slides a tray of runny eggs over to him. “Breakfast.”

It’s been six months since the former supe has last seen Y/N. After his outburst, they put him down like a wild dog with rabies, but Ben wasn’t one for giving up. He tried five more times to escape the rehab facility and killed three nurses before they threw him into solitary. He’s proud of that number. He’d never forgive himself if he went down without a fight.

A part of him hoped they’d kill him for it, but his luck has apparently run out.

Ben’s been imprisoned in this bleak cell ever since. He didn’t even know this place existed. It’s located deep underground in the clinic’s basement. There’s no sun and no warmth. There’s only him, gray and cold concrete, fluorescent lights, and a whole bunch of nothing. The scratch marks on the wall tell him he’s been here nineteen weeks.

His beard is unkempt and wild, as is his hair. He hasn’t seen a mirror in an eternity, but he probably looks like a caveman by now. Reeks and feels like one, too. The only showers he gets are the ice baths that wake him every morning. Unfortunately, that’s not the only torture they’ve thought of. There are other punishments, too, but nothing as bad as what the Commies did to him.

American pussies…

“There’s someone here to see you, champ,” the guard says as he comes to collect the empty tray.

Ben tried to starve himself once before, but that only got him a tube stuffed down his throat. Whoever’s in charge clearly wants to keep him alive and suffering.

There’s a jolt in his gut that bounces to his forlorn and desolate heart, a shimmer of hope burning brightly inside of him that direly wants to convince him that the love of his life has found him. A drop of precious water in the concrete desert. And if she’s not getting him out, at least she’s visiting.

By now, he knows that’s not the case, though. In fact, he’s pretty damn sure Y/N doesn’t even know he’s here, living her life topside, outside, and carefree. Free of him.

A vicious circle that keeps repeating itself.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Ben mutters disinterestedly. Whoever has come to see him surely isn’t worthy of it. After all, he suspects it is just plain ol’ Mallory. She’s come by a few times to lecture him about consequences with that self-satisfied smirk of hers.

“You don’t look well, old friend,” a man’s voice chimes through the cold cell.

Curiously, Ben’s head raises with his brow as he squints his green eyes at the black man in front of him. The voice sounds familiar, as do the man’s features.

“Stan Edgar. I’ll be damned.” A laugh almost escapes him at the realization. “Didn’t think you were still the fuck alive. You got fucking old.”

“I could say the same thing, Soldier Boy,” Edgar retorts as he takes off his glasses and cleans them with a pristine white handkerchief. “Or is it Ben now? I can see the gray in your beard even from here.”

At Edgar’s amused smile, Ben balls his fists, wishing he could wipe off that smug grin. He gets it. Everyone greatly enjoys his downfall, being reminded once again what a shitty asshole he used to be. Y/N really was right when she said that people don’t forgive and forget. So far, it’s been Ben’s experience as well.

“What the fuck do you want, huh? Just came here to fucking laugh and gloat?” Ben prompts, his patience wearing thin. He’s not a zoo animal. He doesn’t need to be gawked at.

“I have a proposal for you if you’re interested,” Edgar says cryptically and dangles a metaphorical carrot in front of his nose. “I heard you’d like to see your girlfriend, right?”

Ben sighs deeply. He knows the game they’re playing. He’s played it a million times before, especially with Vought, and wonders if he ever actually won at it. He used to believe he did, but not anymore.

“And what do you want in return, huh? What’s the catch?”

In response, Edgar’s lips curve into a triumphant smirk.

Nervously, Ben clears his throat several times and fidgets with his fingers, close to biting off his nails. His hand runs through and scratches his trimmed beard. It feels weird to have it short again after so many months.

Once he set foot outside the clinic, his green eyes even had to adjust to the brightness of the sun. It’s been so long since his pupils have actually seen natural daylight. His lungs practically inhaled the oxygen provided by air that’s fresh and wasn’t filtered and smelled fabricated. Those few molecules of realness were life-supplying in the literal sense.

Ben unfolds the crumbled piece of paper in his left hand with an address written on it and checks once more if he’s got the right apartment, even though he’s already done that a couple of times. 5B it reads on his piece of paper and the apartment door with golden letters.

One more swallow, and his knuckles hesitantly tap the wood. Then, his boot taps the floor in a manic beat until he hears the door unlock.

“Ben…” Y/N’s brow furrows. She seems both bewildered and pleasantly surprised. But then worry spreads across her delicate features, looking suspiciously left and right down the hallway. “What are you doing here? How did you get out?”

Ben can’t form a functioning sentence for the life of him. He keeps trying, but his mind is too preoccupied with taking her in – every little bit of her. The color spectrum of her brilliant eyes, the shape of her godforsaken lips, the shine and flow of her hair, and the freckles that grace her perfect skin. She’s still the girl he met a year ago. The girl from his memories. The girl from his dreams.

He also takes note of the changes, though, because she’s surely changed a lot, too. And it’s not just the new clothes she’s wearing that aren’t hoodies and sweats or the different length and slight change of color of her hair. It’s first and foremost the glowing aura of happiness that cloaks her entire being.

She’s a masterpiece, and he can’t help but keep staring at her like she’s an exhibition at the Louvre.

“Ben, say something. Wha–,” she starts anew when he still hasn’t said a word.

“I’m sorry,” he cuts in. The words come out so fast, it’s just one word altogether, really. But he’s been wanting to say them to her for so long, practiced them every day in his cell that they just escaped him in a blurb.

“I. Am. Sorry,” Ben repeats more slowly and coherently. “Look, uhm, I’m not good at this shit. There’s about a million different speeches that I’ve prepared over the last few months, and I figured once I saw you, I’d know which one to pick…”

“Ben–”

“Just let me say this, alright?” Ben interjects and gulps nervously. Being locked up and lonely for months, he’s had plenty of time to think about his mistakes and find ways to fix them. “I’m so sorry for what I did, Y/N. I was, uhm… hurt, and I lashed out, and this should’ve never happened. I know people don’t forgive and forget. Trust me, I know… But still, I’m hoping you can. Just this once? You think you can do that?”

Ben’s a shadow of his former self. A broken shell of a man. And while one would think that’s a bad thing, it’s truly not. His hardened armor, shield and suit, peeled from his skin and revealed a soft core of heart, hope and humanity underneath it.

“Wow, uhm…” Y/N gasps, speechless as her head bobs in both acknowledgment and thought. “That’s–, uhm, that’s a lotta words. Especially coming from you.” A soft and tender smile forms on her mouth as she chews on her lower lip. “Always thought your generation was more the silent type.”

“I’m full of surprises, doll.” Ben shrugs endearingly and adds a wink, parts of his charm returning. He matches her smile as his heart fills with hope. Not all is lost. At least she hasn’t slammed the door in his face. Yet. “So? Do you forgive me?”

Ben doesn’t care if the world forgives him for his sins. He doesn’t care if God or what- and whoever forgives him. He doesn’t care about the people he hurt in the past. He doesn’t care about the lives and families he’s destroyed. He knows he’s done wrong – a lot of wrong – and he also knows he can never ever fix any of it.

Yes, Ben doesn’t care about a lot of things, but he cares about Y/N. And he cares if she forgives him.

Y/N’s eyes brim with tears as she fights to keep the smile on her face alive. “Only if you can forgive me,” she says quietly as her throat closes, making it harder to breathe. “I’m sorry, too. I never meant all those things I said to you that night. I was just scared.”

“Of me?” Ben cocks an eyebrow, simultaneously puzzled and afraid of the answer.

Luckily, Y/N shakes her head. “Yes… and no, it was never about you, you know? I knew if I let you in fully, I’d never leave the clinic. I would’ve stayed for you. Forever,” she explains. “And I also know I played a role in what you did. I mean, I didn’t technically push you into another woman,” she mutters sourly and continues with a deep exhale through her nose, “But I know I pushed you too far… You’re not the only one who’s broken, you know?”

“So, what does that mean? What do we do now?” Ben asks. This is truly as far as he’s thought ahead. A part of him even believed she wouldn’t open the door for him in the first place. To say he feels lost right now would be an understatement. After all, it’s the first time in his long life he’s doing a big Soldier Boy Apology Tour.

“Two broken halves make a whole, right?” Y/N sends him a weak smile that he mirrors.

“I mean, yeah.” Ben chuckles with keen nods, scratching the back of his neck. “I never graduated high school, but that sounds like fucking perfect math to me.”

“Good.” Y/N laughs, her smile rising. She takes a deep breath and swallows the goddamn lump in her throat that’s sat there for half a year. “I love you.”

Ben’s heart crashes. For a second, he even doubts he made it out of that dark cell in the first place because this surely feels like a dream. He might have even died and against all odds went to Heaven.

He can’t hold himself back any longer, every muscle in his body trembling at the sound of those glorious three words. He never thought language could have such a massive impact on him.

The dam then breaks, but he’ll be damned if he lets her witness a single tear. Instead, he pulls her close to his massive body and presses his lips on hers. He kisses her so hard that they both see not only stars but different galaxies altogether.

For a moment, he worries if she’s going to reject him once more. But she doesn’t. On the contrary, her arms drape around his neck and pull him so close they might as well merge into one single entity. She deepens the kiss with a newfound need until they’re both breathless and blue in the face.

Ben, however, would’ve gladly died from the lack of oxygen. What a way to go out after a hundred years…

Resting her forehead on his, Y/N pants heavily as her hands slide down to his broad chest and hold onto his shirt as if he might disappear into thin air if she doesn’t.

“I love you, Y/N. You’re the only friend I ever had. You’re everything to me,” he mumbles into her hair and kisses the top of her head. He closes his eyes and breathes in her scent, trying to memorize it all. It almost killed him when he couldn’t recall it during his captivity.

She smiles broadly and looks up at him. “Wanna come inside?”

Ben nods softly, reining in some of his eagerness. “I’d love to.”

“I see the vinyl collection has grown,” Ben notes with a happy chuckle as he takes in her apartment, his eyes glued on the oakwood shelf that consumes an entire wall and reaches up to the ceiling, filled from top to bottom with records. “You’re gonna need a bigger place soon.”

“Yeah, I spend a lot of time in record stores these days. Not to mention half my paychecks…” Y/N laughs as she prepares a pot of coffee in the small kitchen, her cheeks flushing as her adorable dimples make an appearance.

Ben’s missed them, too. He thinks they’re always more prominent when he makes her laugh.

“You work?” His brow shoots up at that information, a curious smile curving his mouth.

While he was locked up for months, he has wondered every single night what she was up to, what her life must look like now, before his eyes grew too tired and closed, ending another grueling day without her. He always hoped, though, that she was happy wherever she was.

“Yeah, I’m interning right now at an orphanage and taking night classes at a community college, so I can become a social worker,” she replies with a sheepish smile.

His face lights up, his smile spreading from ear to ear. “College, huh? That’s great. I’m fucking proud of you.”

It’s a phrase Ben always wanted to hear – from his father, from the world. It’s something he imagined he’d say to his sons someday, but he never got the chance. Frankly, neither him nor any offspring of his deserved to hear it. Y/N, on the other hand, does.

She deserves the world and so much more. Could Ben ever give it all to her?

“Thanks.” Y/N blushes even more and hands him a mug with coffee.

These past months have been hard for her, too. She’s tried to build a life for herself, a future worth living, and not fall into a dark hole like so many former supes before her. She’s had no one on the outside. Nights and days got rather lonely until she made some friends at work and college. It took a long while until she didn’t feel lost anymore and found her purpose.

And yet, she never felt complete. Her mind always raced back to him, wondering what he might think of her if he could see her now. Ben haunted her hopes and dreams every single day since she’s left the clinic, wishing he’d be right here by her side.

“I work at a former supe orphanage. Mallory arranged it. They actually managed to cure every single kid without losses. Now, we’re just trying to find them good homes,” Y/N tells him excitedly, beaming with pride. “For the first time in my life, I finally feel like I’m making a difference. I’m doing something good.”

“That’s awesome,” Ben says, smiling. “But for the record, you’ve made a difference even before that. You’ve changed my life.”

“Right back at you,” Y/N replies and then her smile shines brighter than the sun itself. It’s blinding. “There’s a boy at the home that actually reminds me a lot of you. And not just because you two share a name.”

Ben curiously arches an eyebrow, smirking. “Yeah?”

“Yes, cocky son of a bitch,” she says with a laugh. Ben chuckles at that. Y/N then saunters closer to him as if she can’t stand to be apart from him a minute longer. It makes his heart race faster than a rocket to the moon. “I thought a lot about you. Actually, there’s not a day that went by where I didn’t think about you, you know?”

“Yeah, same, my love,” Ben replies and chokes down the damn lump in his throat. When did he become such a fucking sap?

“I wanted to visit you at the clinic a couple of times, but they wouldn’t let me,” Y/N tells him then, sadness shimmering in her eyes. “They said you moved on and didn’t want to see me, but I had a feeling that wasn’t true.”

Ben tries not to get goddamn angry at her words. It was one thing to torture him. Throw ice water on him every morning, electrocute and burn him, but fucking lie to her? Making her believe he didn’t want to see her when that’s all he wanted this goddamn time? Those bastards are lucky he doesn’t have his nuclear powers anymore, or they’d all be turned to ash.

But the past doesn’t matter anymore. It took him almost a century to learn that lesson. What matters, though, is that he’s here right now. With her.

Even when you’ve lived forever, time is precious. It’s a gift you don’t waste, no matter if you have an abundance of it.

With one stride, Ben’s in front of her and cups her cheeks, looking deeply into her tear-filled eyes. “It’s not true. I never moved on, okay? Every single day, I would’ve died and killed someone to see you, alright? Believe me.”

Y/N nods in his palms and hugs his hands with her own. “Are you alright? What did they do to you? Did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” Ben assures her but knows Y/N won’t buy his lie. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine now, okay?”

“Did you escape? Because if you did, we can’t stay here. They’ll find you here,” Y/N worries, and he can see the panic rising in her features.

“I didn’t escape. They let me go, alright?” Ben says but can already see her mouth opening again with more questions, so he resorts to kissing them shut. “As I said, don’t worry, my love. We’ll talk about this later, and I promise I’ll tell you everything, okay?”

Even though she’s reluctant, she agrees with a weak nod. “Okay.”

“Now, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do for months,” Ben announces and smirks slyly.

Y/N matches his smile and meets him halfway as he fiercely claims her lips in a searing kiss. On tiptoes, she then hoists herself up and tightly wraps her legs around his waist as he carries her promptly to the bedroom.

With a giggle, she’s dropped onto the mattress as Ben hungrily trails kisses from her cheek to her jawline and down her neck. Eagerly, he unzips her jeans and shimmies them down her smooth legs, leaving her only in a pair of onyx lace panties.

“Were you expecting someone?” Suspiciously, Ben lifts an eyebrow. He wouldn’t hold it against her if she found someone during the time they were apart, but he sure as hell wouldn’t be happy about it.

Well, okay, that’s a lie. In fact, he’d like the guy’s address so he can commit a murder.

Y/N giggles in response. “No, I’m just really bad at doing laundry. Those were the only clean ones left,” she explains. Internally, he sighs in relief. “I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

The look she gives him is one powerful guilt trip since they both know he can’t say the same. Christ on a fucking stick, he feels shitty. During all the times he’s cheated on Crimson Countess (and there were many), he’s never felt like this before and can’t say that he particularly enjoys this feeling.

Softly, he rests his forehead on hers and pecks her lips, his fingers gingerly stroking her cheek. “I’ll never fucking do that to you again. I promise.”

Y/N nods. “I know. I believe you.”

“It’s just you and me from now on, alright? Us against the world,” Ben assures her.

“Like Sid and Nancy?” Y/N grins teasingly up at him. “Or Ross and Rachel? Beyoncé and Jay-Z? But without Becky…”

“I have no fucking clue who those people are.” He chuckles, placing another kiss on her cheek. “But yeah, like Sid and Nancy. Bonnie and Clyde. Whatever you want, doll.”

More kisses follow, wet and hot as he works his way down her body. He has missed touching someone’s warm skin. He has missed hearing someone’s laugh that wasn’t full of cruelty. He has missed feeling loved and adored. He has missed feeling freedom and peace. And most of all, Ben has missed her.

Y/N’s breathing grows more labored with every inch he climbs down her body. His fingers hook into the elastic of her panties, feeling his hot breath on her mound before he flings the fabric across the room. His length brushes between her thighs, hard and thick, and elicits little jolts of electricity on her skin that travel through her nerve endings and cause goosebumps of anticipation to form.

“Fuck, Ben,” she moans and arches her back as he pulls the little sensitive nub between his teeth and sucks.

The former hero chuckles in delight at her reaction. “Oh, my love, I’m just getting started…”

Gentle and soft, Ben kisses her naked shoulder blade, trailing a flock of kisses down her spine till he reaches the beginnings of her asscheeks and hears her adorable giggle.

“That tickles,” Y/N says, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah? You know, I actually had a dream about this,” Ben says with a peck on her crown.

Y/N cocks a curious eyebrow at that and rolls in his embrace, facing him. “Really? Tell me.”

“Well, it was a lot like this,” Ben starts. “And then…”

“And then what?” Y/N prompts when he abruptly trails off.

“And then… you told me you loved me,” Ben confesses and clears his throat. He’s not used to open and emotional pillow talk, but Y/N makes it easy, practically forces his emotions to the surface like a mountain spring.

Y/N grins broadly up at him. “I do love you.”

“Yeah? You sure?” A hint of insecurity haunts his juniper eyes. How many times has he been placated and lied to? At this point, it’s too damn many to count. “You’re not just fucking saying that, right?”

“And what exactly would I get out of it?” Y/N reframes his question, licking her amble lips. Sometimes asking the right question is more telling than an answer. “Money? Fame? You have neither.”

Ben clicks his tongue and purses his lips. “That was somehow both relieving and fucking insulting. How the hell did you do that?”

Y/N laughs and innocently twitches her shoulders. “It’s a talent.”

“Well, I’m gonna take notes. Jesus fucking Christ…” Ben cards a hand through his messy hair and shakes his head at her, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose.

Y/N then cups his cheeks, fingers softly caressing his beard. Her eyes wander down his body, finding scars and bruises that haven’t been there the last time she has seen him. “Ben, are you alright? What happened to you?”

The fallen supe then glances down his own chest and knows exactly what she means by her question. Yet, he brushes her off with a smile and grabs her hand, kissing her knuckles. “Nothing, my love. I told you I’m fine.”

Knowing it’s impossible to get answers out of him, Y/N nods. “I think now is ‘later,’” she states, thinking back to last night’s unfinished conversation. “How did you get out? What did you do?”

Ben presses his plush lips into a thin line, tongue poking his bearded cheeks. “Don’t worry about it.”

Y/N heaves a sigh and gently kisses his lips. “Ben, if you want us to be a team and ‘us against the world,’ you can’t keep things from me,” she tells him. “I’m your partner. Your ride or die. I’m here for you, no matter what. But you gotta tell me what’s up. You can’t always protect me.”

“I can try,” he mumbles sweetly and places another precious kiss on her hairline.

“And if there are more bad guys to kill and maim, you’re free to do so.” Y/N smiles softly, causing him to chuckle. “Please just tell me what’s going on.”

Ben’s head bobs in thought before replying, “I made a deal.”

Her brow furrows, an eerie feeling spreading in her stomach. “What kinda deal?”

“If I do this, then I’m a free man afterward. We can be together. For real, Y/N,” he says with a hopeful undertone that resembles a fairytale. Only Y/N knows those don’t really exist.

“Do what? What deal did you make, Ben? And with who?”

The bad feeling in her stomach only grows. Y/N knows only too well how the CIA works. They wait for their target to become weak, vulnerable, and hopeless. God knows Ben was exactly all those things when he first set foot inside the rehab clinic.

“An old friend visited me in lock-up. Proposed something,” Ben replies mysteriously.

Y/N’s brow wrinkles some more. “Ben, I don’t mean to sound offensive, but you don’t have old friends.”

The former supe snorts, amused. “I’m aware. And trust me, I don’t like this fucker either, but the deal was too good to be true.”

“That’s probably because it is,” Y/N throws in.

“Probably. But I still have to take it,” Ben maintains, his green eyes desperate and pleading.

“Who was it? Who came to see you?”

“Ever heard of Stan Edgar?”

Shocked, Y/N’s brow raises to her hairline. “The former CEO of Vought International?!”

But then Ben’s the one who’s surprised. “That motherfucker made it to CEO? Who would’ve thought…”

“Ben, focus,” Y/N snaps. “This isn’t a history lesson.”

“Well, he used to manage Payback back in the 80s. Now he’s apparently in it with Mallory and the CIA,” Ben explains. “They need my help. In exchange, I get my freedom.”

Y/N, however, scowls in annoyance. “Ben, I swear to God, if you don’t stop beating around the bush soon, I’ll fucking strangle you myself.”

Ben laughs and pecks her lips. “I love it when you’re feisty. It’s sexy…”

“Ben!”

“Alright, don’t get hyster–” At her glare, he abruptly stops mid-sentence and swallows thickly. “Calm down, okay? I can handle it.”

“Handle what?!”

Ben licks his lips and clicks his tongue. He supposes there’s no way around it anymore. He has to spit it out. He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Apparently, they’ve got Homelander.”

Confused, Y/N’s head tilts, more creases forming on her brow. At this point, she’s worried they’ll stay permanently – all because of this asshole in her bed. “What do you mean ‘they’ve got Homelander’? Got him how?”

“According to Edgar, the CIA has him locked up somewhere,” Ben replies.

“Would explain why the news has been so peaceful and quiet recently,” Y/N muses cynically as her head begins to spin. “But wait a minute… if they’ve already got him, what do they want you to do? Why are you telling me all of this?”

Ben lets out a deep sigh. He knew from the start she’d never approve. “They wanna cure him. You know, like us.”

“Okay, so?” Y/N shrugs, not putting the puzzle pieces together. “They want you to kill him after?” But then, her eyes widen as she realizes the sinister plan. “No… No! Ben, no! You can’t do this! You’re gonna die! Have you learned nothing from your last glorious deal with Billy Butcher?”

Ben sighs anew. “Y/N, I know, my love. I know, alright? But I’m the only one who can get close enough to him.”

“How do you know that, huh?” Y/N questions, throwing her arms up. “The last time the two of you were in a room together, it didn’t go so well. Who says he ain’t gonna kill you as soon as he sees you?”

“‘Cause he’s a pathetic fucking cunt with daddy issues. I can work that angle,” Ben insists, acting like he’s got it all perfectly figured out.

His ego surely thinks so. It’s as old and as big as the goddamn Titanic. Y/N prays it won’t sink just as fast.

“Oh, so you wanna trick your petri dish son long enough to ram a needle into his goddamn throat? That’s your fucking plan?” Y/N lifts a sarcastic eyebrow. “Are you fucking insane?!”

“Look, I know it’s risky–”

“Risky?” Y/N interrupts him faster than a gunshot and scoffs. “Ben, fucking without a condom – that’s risky. It’s like asking for an STD! This mission is just plain stupid and, frankly, suicidal!”

Ben remains quiet until her chest stops heaving and calms. He nods in understanding before finding her eyes and locking gazes. “I know all of that. But there’s no other choice. I have to do this. This is my chance to make it right.”

Y/N shakes her head vehemently, her mind in denial. “No, no… I don’t believe that.” She jumps out of bed and hauls a duffel bag from her closet, throwing everything her hands can grab inside of it. “We can go. We can leave right now and go to Mexico… or Alaska. Nova Scotia!”

Ben chuckles lightly, scooting across the mattress to her, and grabs her frantic hands, kissing them gently. “Y/N, stop. We can’t leave. You and I both know there’s at least three SUVs full of agents parked outside and surrounding that building,” he says and watches her realize their dire situation in horror and despair. “This is the only way.”

“We can shoot our way outta here. I’m pretty sure my neighbor is an arms dealer,” Y/N suggests weakly, sniffling. She didn’t necessarily pick the best neighborhood.

“I don’t think we’d make it, Bonnie.”

Old Ben, Soldier Boy, would’ve shot himself out of that apartment building, even blast himself out of it, no questions asked. He also wouldn’t have cared if Y/N got hurt or even died in the midst of it. After all, narcissistic assholes don’t care much about anything but themselves. But New Ben surely does. He cares more than he sometimes likes to admit. And most of all, he’s certainly not a big risk-taker when it comes to her safety.

“But what if you die? What then?” she whispers as tears roll down her rosy cheeks.

Ben catches them with his thumb and wipes them away, smiling warmly. “At least then, there’s finally someone who’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

Y/N catches his lips in a deep and desperate kiss, only interrupted by her sniffles. “Of course I’d miss your stupid ass.”

Ben laughs and places his palms on her hips, pulling her between his thighs as her arms lock around his neck. “Good,” he says with another kiss on her lips. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

But no matter how much distraction he provides, her worries refuse to dissipate. “When is this gloriously insane plan happening?”

Licking his lips, Ben inhales deeply. “Tonight.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Chapter 8: sid & nancy – March 29

And the plot thickens! Last chapter plus an epilogue coming next week! 💚

Is this a good time to remind you that this series doesn't necessarily have a super happy ending? 👀

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27

Rehab Series: @nancymcl @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @sparkydonugh

#rehab #soldier boy #christen reads #fic recommendations #fic recommendation #fic recs #fic rec #christen’s fic recs #christen’s fic rec #christen’s fic recommendations #christen’s fic recommendation #i’m not ready

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xlynnbbyx · 1 month

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Jensen Ackles Creation Con Burbank CA March 17th 2024

l know Jensen missed Jared I missed seeing them two together. But glad Jensen got to do gold panel with Jeffery. My favorite pics are all of the pics of Jensen smiling. When he really truly smiles it lights up a room. I could stare at him all day and never get bored. I mean look at him!! 😍😍

📸: Alana King

#jensen ackles #simping for jensen ackles #i love him #forever crushing on jensen ackles #jensen ackles makes me smile #spn bur #creation con #supernatural convention #spn con #spn burbank 2024 #supernatural con

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xlynnbbyx · 1 month

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eep this was from my friend Charlie’s post! Last month he posted that video to get a lot of Supernatural lines. He noticed it was trending lately. He was so shocked to see it on Jared’s IG story and to see him comment. He is going to Orlando Creation Con to see Jensen again he got the gold pass for then. But this is the 2nd time Jared has randomly replied/commented on something of his. He did see Jared in Nashville last year too. His friend let him join in on her photo op with Jared. All he could say was I love you man. 😂 But Charlie is so sweet and amazing he deserves this!!

He got so many followers cause of this too! Which people should follow him he is very sweet and awesome. He mainly does Dean stuff but if he lets his hair grow out more he will do Sam. He has a cute doggo named Simba who appears in his videos as Castiel. So if you haven’t followed him go do it now IG(Charlies.Castle)& TikTok(charliecastles)

#that’s my friend #go follow him #supernatural #sam winchester #jared padalecki

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xlynnbbyx · 1 month

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Jensen in Burbank CA for Creation Con (x)

Idk if it’s just me but Jensen looks a little annoyed here. That or maybe he is just tired not sure. But love how he still gives the peace sign. Can’t wait for more Jensen goodness later!!

#jensen ackles #simping for jensen ackles #i love him #forever crushing on jensen ackles #jensen ackles makes me smile #forever man crush #man crush everyday

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xlynnbbyx · 1 month

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Well Wayne you said you couldn’t wait for me to start yelling at you so here we go! WAYNE why did you do this to me?! WHY?!

First we start off sweet and fluffy! He saved her! At that point he was Ben again instead of Soldier Boy. She then tried to take the fall for him! She convinced the nurse to lie to protect Ben! Then the sweet moment where she was nursing him back to health. Then Ben says HE LOVES HER! But what does she do?! She becomes an idiot and makes him leave! I literally screamed get your ass up and go after him we love him too!! Then when she finally came to her senses Ben turned back into Soldier Boy causing her to leave. Seriously did he think screwing another woman was the best way to show he loves her?! Both of them are idiots both had me like…

Ben finding the bracelet and short not got me. 💔 But then Ben was going to find her at least I hope he was! But the cliffhanger ugh it makes me anxious and wanting the next part asap! What did they do to him?! Is he ok? He has to be he has to be ok to go find her so they can make up and have hot fluffy great wonderful even more fluffy make up sex!! FIX IT!!

What a way to make a comeback Wayne!! Now I kindly say…

Rehab – Chapter 6

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, nudity/smut, a dash of fluff, a huge cup of angst & hurt

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: This one reeks of drama, guys! I feel like I just came back to get yelled at... Welp, let the screaming begin! 😂

Feedback is my fuel 🖤

<< Chapter 5 || Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Chapter 6: bad things

“No, no, no! Don’t shoot him! He did nothing wrong!”

The desperate exclamation rings in Ben’s ears, loops through his mind in circles. His muscles freeze, don’t dare to move or even twitch. His breathing stills; his heart pounds like it never has before. A violent thunderstorm in his chest. It’s so loud he almost forgets he’s not bulletproof anymore as he stares down the barrels of three guns. Then he remembers neither is Y/N.

She’s not his goddamn shield. She could get hurt, and the thought causes the blood in his veins to jitter. He can’t lose her.

His feet begin to move and shuffle in front of her, pushing her gently behind his shoulder. Y/N slots behind him and firmly takes his hand. He can feel her eyes on him, but with one brave swallow, Ben just faces the threat and concentrates on the problem in front of him, ignoring his wildly beating heart.

“Y/N, what the fuck happened here?” Derek prompts, brow creased in stern confusion before his eyes land on the lifeless human body by their feet. “Is he–” The nurse doesn’t finish the question, just stares some more at the corpse on the ground, trying to piece the puzzle together as he waves the gun in front of Ben’s face, which causes some general uneasiness in his gut. Fear of dying is an entirely new concept to the former supe, to say the least.

“Uh-huh, yeah, pretty sure,” Y/N confirms and swallows harshly, unnoticeably squeezing Ben’s hand. “I-I killed him.”

“You? Really?” Derek cocks an eyebrow in clear disbelief while Ben’s heart jumps wildly in his chest. He can hardly believe it either that she’d take the fall for him. Who in their right mind would do such a thing? “Is that what I’m gonna find on the security camera footage?” the nurse questions further.

“Shit,” Y/N curses, and it almost sounds like a damn sneeze by the sheer force of it. “Forgot about that…”

Ben’s green eyes wander up to the ceiling, finding several cameras resting peacefully above, tucked away in dark corners like spiderwebs. How has he never noticed them before? Have they really been there all this time?

“Okay, fine,” Y/N admits with a frustrated sigh as her defense crumbles like an unstable house of cards around her. “But what you are gonna see on that footage is Colt assaulting me, alright? He tried to rape me. Ben just came in time. He fucking saved me.”

He fucking saved me.

Ben stares at her as if he can’t quite believe it himself before witnessing the first dark purple bruise form on her upper arm. That bastard. Then anger boils in his chest once more, swapping over the edge of the pot into his throat. He’d kill the guy who dared to hurt her all over again. No regrets.

“Did you really have to kill him? Couldn’t just knock him out and let us fucking handle the rest, huh?” Derek barks with a brow of annoyance this time.

“Got carried away,” Ben mutters in defense and clears his throat, locking his jaw tight.

“Carried away, hm? Typical,” the nurse spits, unamused and impatient. “Powers or not, you fucking supes think you can do whatever the fuck you want. Never care about collateral damage or anyone else. It’s always about you. News flash, buddy – in the real world, we just don’t go around and fucking kill people!”

Ben shares a quick look with Y/N and licks his lips, swallowing thickly. What is the best course of action here? The nurse seems pissed, and he guesses threats won’t help, least of all empty ones. Thinking back to therapy, one idea suddenly pops into his mind.

“Look, I’m-, uh, I’m sorry,” Ben admits, albeit it’s a lie to keep him alive. Again, no regrets. But Dr. Morgan’s ‘an apology goes a long way’ rattles through his head, even though he’s aware people never truly forgive. And as he learned a long time ago, every good lie always contains an ounce of truth. That’s what ultimately sells it as believable. “I lost control for a second. I-, uh… I didn’t like seeing her get hurt by that fucking dick, alright?”

Derek’s eyes fix on Y/N, keeping contact for what feels like a goddamn eternity. Are the two of them holding a silent conversation? But Ben knows they’re friends, and judging by the nurse’s look of concern, he doesn’t approve of Y/N getting hurt either. As much as the staff seems to hate him, everyone loves Y/N here, which ultimately might be his saving grace. It’s all about checks and balances in life.

And then, with a somewhat irritated eye roll, the nurse lowers his gun and gestures for his colleagues to do the same. Sighs of relief leave both Y/N and Ben as the tension disappears with the immediate death threat, their shoulders falling.

“You guys can go,” Derek tells his companions. “I’ll handle it.”

The two other nurses nod in unison and vanish down the corridor again, probably to resume their earlier posts. Ben’s still not sure if they aren’t actually CIA and the medical training is just a sham like everything else in this rehab center. He’s slowly starting to catch on.

“You know I have to report this back to Mallory,” Derek announces then, drawing the attention back to him.

“Please, you can’t do that. You know what will happen then. They hate him,” Y/N reasons, and Ben tries not to be offended by her honesty. Truthfully, he’s pretty sure as well that he ain’t the government’s favorite person on this planet.

“Just out of curiosity… what exactly will happen then?” Ben dares to ask, although he can take a good guess. Still, he’d like to have all his facts straight before pondering his next move.

“Chair,” Derek shoots straight without missing a beat, not an ounce of sympathy gleaming in his eyes.

“Or lethal injection if they feel gracious,” Y/N murmurs bitterly.

Yup, Ben guessed correctly.

“But he didn’t do anything wrong. He doesn’t deserve to get punished for it,” Y/N insists. It warms his cryo-frozen heart that she’s fighting for him. Has anyone ever done that before? He can’t remember, but it certainly feels good. “If Mallory finds out, she’s gonna use it as an excuse to get rid of him. God knows she’s been waiting for that chance probably since he got here.”

“And what the fuck do you want me to do about it?” Derek twitches his shoulders high.

“Lie,” Y/N suggests bluntly. “Just tell her I killed the guy after he attacked me and delete the footage. She won’t care if it was me. Hell, she never cared enough before when someone died. She won’t care now either.”

“She might if she finds out he was involved,” Derek counters and motions to the ancient superhero.

“Well, as far as you’re concerned, he was never here, alright?” Y/N asserts and stubbornly folds her arms over her chest to make her stance clear. She won’t budge. She’s a headstrong one, after all.

Derek seems to know that fact as well and heaves an exhaustive sigh. Another eye roll follows. “Fine,” he grits. “I’ll deal with the body. Clean him up,” the nurse orders grimly and then stomps down the hallway.

Returning with a first-aid kit, Y/N closes the door of her room behind her, finding the fallen supe and former hero sitting idly on the edge of her bed.

He’s twisting and playing with his thumb in his lap before one finger reaches for the split bottom lip and collects a drop of blood on it. He hisses and then frowns at the scarlet red stain on his pad, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick at the wound and surely being able to taste the iron. Fascinated with what his green eyes find, his fingers continue to play with the injury, although it seems to burn, judging by the various flinches of his facial muscles.

“Feels weird, huh?” Y/N joins him with an amused smile, settling down next to him on the mattress. His eyes land on her as he rests his hands back into his lap and watches as she dabs some disinfectant on a cotton ball.

“A little,” Ben admits sheepishly and winces when the rubbing alcohol connects with his open wound. He tries to swat her hand away, but Y/N remains stubborn and unbothered by his action.

“Hold still and stop being a baby,” she orders him, giggling. “Accepting medical help doesn’t turn you into a girl.”

“I’m not a–… Fine.” Ben sighs his defeat and allows her to patch him up. Admittedly, it feels kind of nice to be cared for, especially by the girl he likes – a soldier and his nurse. He determines he can live with that mental image.

Once his lip stops the bleed, she proceeds to wrap an ice pack in a clean dish towel and holds it up to the left side of his face.

He huffs. “I don’t need that fucking shit.”

“Your black eye heavily disagrees with you there, stud.” Y/N giggles, a teasing smile playing on her lips as if she finds the whole torture damn amusing.

Ben pops an eyebrow in bewilderment. “I’ve got a black eye?”

“Yep, big one, too,” she confirms and gently brushes a few strands of sandy blond locks out of his face. She then grabs a small handheld mirror from her bedside table and holds it up for him.

Gobsmacked, he studies his face, pinches and squeezes the skin between his fingers, and causes deep wrinkles in his brow like someone who’s stuck in the wrong body. Freaky Friday.

“Fuck me.” He gasps in fascination and snorts. “I’ll be damned...”

Y/N grins, amused. “You look like you’ve been in a real fight, champ. First one?”

“In this century, yeah.” Ben chuckles softly, nodding. “First one was in my sophomore year, 1934.”

“Wow.” Y/N whistles lowly and laughs. “Sometimes I forget how old you truly are. Lemme guess, you got into a fight over a girl?”

Ben smirks widely. “Now, how did you know?”

“Seems to be a common theme for you,” Y/N muses and chews on her lower lip, her cheeks heating up even in the darkness of the room. Lowering the ice pack from his face, her fingertips gently trace the swelling. His skin feels sufficiently cold to the touch. “That should help for now,” she determines and sends him a smile. “Thanks for saving me. You might not have been a true hero back in the day, but you certainly were mine tonight.”

Ben swallows hard at that and wets his lips, head bobbing in pensive rhythm as he averts his gaze to the fluffy rug under his bare feet. “Well… Wouldn’t have been necessary. It was my goddamn fault, after all. If I hadn’t–… Well, I-I guess what I’m trying to say is… I shoulda known better. I’m sorry, Y/N. Honestly. I’m truly sorry.”

Y/N nods quietly next to him, accepting his admission of guilt and the included apology. Truthfully, she thought the day would never come that the Soldier Boy who slumbers deep inside of him would ever admit to any wrongdoing, but she knows better than letting her surprise show. “Why did you provoke him?”

Ben presses his lips tightly together and shakes his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly with the words he’s swallowing down as he refuses to answer. Y/N’s hand reaches out and settles on his shoulder blade, tenderly caressing his back. Ben grabs it and kisses her knuckles apologetically. “I suppose monsters can’t escape the skin they’re in. I’m a fucking asshole. There’s not much more to it.”

“Yeah, true. You can be a real asshole,” Y/N agrees with a laugh, playfully teasing him. He meets her gaze with a raised look, hoping there’s more to her statement, though. “But you’re also a lot of other things, too,” she adds finally.

Ben swallows, keeping his green eyes fixed on her with a gleam of curiosity. “Like what? Mind naming a few ‘cause I don’t really know who I am. Not anymore.”

Y/N bobs her head and rests her chin on top of his broad shoulder, offering him a smile while her fingers brush through his soft hair. “I do. I know who you are.”

“Yeah?” Ben finds her eyes and cocks an eyebrow. “Could you by any chance enlighten me as well? Help a fella out here, huh.”

“Well, for starters… You’re an incredibly bad singer. Like, really, really, really awful. Disastrously lousy,” Y/N teases him, to which Ben rolls his eyes and pouts his lips, which hide a smile behind it. “Most of all, I honestly wish you’d stop singing that damn Cass Elliot song.”

“It’s an awesome song! Your generation just doesn’t know how to appreciate great music anymore,” Ben grumbles defensively. “This is truly the reason why the world’s going to shit…”

“Oh, we do, old man. I’m all for the classics – just as long as you’re not singing them.” Y/N laughs and presses a soothing kiss to his cheek to balance her criticism. “But you’re funny. I’ll give you that.”

His face lights up at her words like a kid’s on Christmas morning, the pout disappearing. “Yeah? You know Bob Newhart once wanted me to perform with him,” he boasts.

“Oh, I bet he did,” Y/N replies with a smile and doesn’t let him catch on to her little act. “You’d probably would’ve stolen the show. You’re hilarious.“

His cheeks blush at her words, and he subtly tries to get rid of the sudden fluster by clearing his throat. “So, uh, what else?”

“You’re a great lover.” Y/N smirks, and he matches it. “Fantastic, truly. You rock my world like no one else does.”

“Yeah? I mean… damn right, I do.” Ben grins widely, his large palm running up her thigh and squeezing the flesh as he cheekily wiggles his eyebrows. “And I guess you’re easy to please, sweetheart,” he adds and shrugs her compliment off with feigned coolness, but his impossibly reddening cheeks give away his true feelings on the subject.

Y/N then swallows, looking into his juniper eyes. “You’re also a very caring man,” she admits and catches the surprise in his orbs. “If you want to be… sometimes… under certain circumstances…”

Ben snorts, chuckling. “Okay, got it.”

“You really are my hero,” Y/N repeats her earlier sentiment then, and before she can overthink and change her mind again, she leans closer and presses her lips against his, catching him off guard. Her heart jolts out of her chest.

A moment ticks away on the clock.

Ben counts each second until he reaches eleven, surprised his brain even works that well with all the fireworks exploding in his ribcage. He cherishes every second, too scared to fully kiss her back in case it scares her away.

Still, she draws back all on her own and retreats, a breathless smile dancing across her moonlit features. The tip of her nose nudges his as she rests her forehead on his, encouraging him to go on.

“You sure?” Ben checks. She nods with eagerness, and like lightning, his palms cup her cheeks like a treasured pearl, fingertips tracing the outline of her mouth. His lips crash against hers like a stormy wave hitting a rocky cliff – violent, ambitious, and wild.

His lungs wring for oxygen as he swallows and sucks her plush bottom lip between his. She opens her mouth wider for him, allows his tongue to slip inside and taste her. He savors every drop like a parched man finding water in the desert.

His hands roam. One lands on the back of her neck, the other on her waist. He pulls till she falls into his lap and straddles his legs as he explores her warm cavity with his wet lips and his thick tongue, ignoring the stings his wound causes. She’s salt, but the urge to keep kissing her, devouring her, is stronger than any pain that surges through his body.

Then, he stops and swallows the biggest lump of a lifetime, swallows like he’s never swallowed anything before. He takes a deep breath and says, close to a whisper, “I love you, Y/N. I really do.”

Y/N makes him feel happy, makes him feel like a kid again, like flying could be possible. Like everything could be possible. Maybe he could prove himself to the CIA and Mallory. He’s done great on his outings so far. No body count or outbursts. Maybe the two of them could get out of the clinic together. Maybe they could have a future together, after all. Things can change. He could change.

Ben smiles from ear to ear, his heart full of love. A love that’s visible in every crease on his face and tangible in every bone of his body.

“Ben…”

His happy smile fades like a ghost and joins the dead as he witnesses the rainbow of sheer horror and regret spreading on Y/N’s face. He pushed the wrong button, and now it’s all going nuclear.

“I think you should go,” she says quietly and averts her gaze.

“Go?” Ben’s brow furrows as he scoffs, nostrils flaring with a mix of anger and disbelief. “You’re not gonna say it back, even though–“

“Even though what, Ben?!” she snaps. “Even though I told you a thousand times what this was? Even though you knew we’d never be more?”

“But–“

“No! No buts!” Y/N’s voice is louder now as it fills with anger. She jumps up from the bed and starts pacing the room. Her throat closes. Her heart pounds a million beats. It suddenly feels like some supe sucked all the air out of the room, and now there’s no oxygen left to breathe. Desperately, she runs a hand through her hair and looks at Ben. “You don’t even know what love is. Let’s face it – the only person you ever loved was you and only you.”

Ben clicks his tongue and rubs a palm through his beard. Then, he rises from the bed and walks to the door. He knows when he’s not wanted. He knows when it’s time to leave. And yet, he still tries. If anything, he’s always been a fighter, even when the world didn’t appreciate it.

Resting his hand on the doorknob, Ben takes one last deep breath and glances back at Y/N. “You sure you can’t love me? Not even a little?”

He knows the answer, knows what the truth really is. He’s unlovable. Maybe he’s also a masochist and takes pleasure in torturing himself. Or maybe he’s simply a hopeless romantic – old-school.

Y/N sighs and shakes her head, her voice bitter. “No. I don’t love you. No one can.”

Ben’s fought battles, other superheroes, parents, ex-lovers, and friends. It’s not the first time he’s hearing this, either. Yet, it still hurts the most.

“Okay.” Ben nods in defeat and harshly swallows down the hurt in his entire body. “I guess thank you for your honesty then.” He forces a weak smile to his lips. “You’re wrong, though, by the way… I do know what love is.”

As the door closes behind the broken former supe, Y/N realizes what she’s done. She wants to run after him, tell him she’s a better liar than him, and nothing of what she’s said was the truth. That she’s never been happier than when she’s with him. That she wants everything that he wants. That she does love him for fuck’s sake.

But why should she give him false hope and placate him? He’s had enough of that his whole life. It’s better to rip the band-aid off right now. There’s no future for them. That’s the real lie. The CIA will never let him go. Y/N knows that, and Ben should know it, too. He deserves to know.

So, she stays mum and lets him go.

The rational part wins in the end and keeps her feet frozen to the ground, even though it shatters her heart.

Fourteen hours, thirty-three minutes, and fifty-one seconds.

That’s how much time has passed since Ben left her room last night. That’s also how long Y/N has thought about their conversation, replayed it bit by bit in an endless loop.

It’s also the same amount of time that regret could fester in her heart.

Maybe the world isn’t black and white, after all. Maybe it’s okay to live in the gray. Maybe it’s even healthy to hope. Maybe it’s essential for a human’s survival.

Y/N’s knuckles knock on the door of Room 11 like she’s done so many times before. It almost feels like a full circle moment.

Five months ago, she could’ve never imagined becoming friends with the narcissistic asshole that resides in that room, much less falling head over heels in love with him.

Yet, here she is.

Her ears then pick up a set of strange noises, moans and groans that echo out into the hallway. Her stomach churns, her gut already knowing what’s happening inside before her brain and heart can catch on.

Determinedly, she opens the door and storms in. As expectedly, she finds the former green-eyed superhero standing at the end of his bed with blonde Daisy on all fours on the mattress. Needless to say, neither of the two is dressed.

Y/N’s mouth fills with spit – or bile – she can’t really tell. She wants to simultaneously scratch out her eyes and brand the memory into her brain as a reminder to never trust someone again. To never be this stupid again.

Far from stopping any action, Ben continues on with his movements as he recognizes her. He even looks her dead in the eye. If he’s taken aback by her presence or feeling caught, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, a wide, cunning and petty smirk spreads across his cheeks.

“Hey, sweetheart, c’mon, get in here,” he says and slaps Daisy’s rear with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “Join us,” he extends his invitation, his voice laced with something wicked and vile.

Y/N doesn’t respond. She might have even blacked out for a second because a minute later, the door is closed again, and she’s back in the hallway with no memory of how she got here.

Inhaling and exhaling a few million deep breaths, Y/N lets the calm wash over her and feels clearer than ever before. Clarity and closure. She’s finally got it.

She rips off the green bracelet around her wrist and pretends she doesn’t feel like the biggest idiot that ever walked this planet. Truly, she should thank him. It’s the push she needed.

“It’s time,” she decides.

As the door slams shut behind Y/N, Ben pulls out and mindlessly shoves the blonde back onto the bed. Everything went according to plan, but why doesn’t it feel good?

Revenge always made him feel better in the past. It always scratched the itch and patched the hole in his heart.

Y/N was supposed to get jealous, maybe even start a hot and wild catfight with Daisy over him. She was supposed to realize what she lost – what he was goddamn worth.

Instead, she looked sad, though, and he feels like utter shit.

The blonde is complaining and yapping about something as he gets dressed, but Ben doesn’t register a single word of what she says, his mind too focused on Y/N that everything else just sounds like white noise. Daisy then leaves angrily, but he doesn’t care, either.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

Eighteen hours, nine minutes, and forty-two seconds.

That’s how much time has passed since Y/N left his room and caught him red-handed. That’s how long he thought about what he’s done like the worst prison sentence in history. It’s the amount of time he’s decided to let things cool off. If there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that neither of them are good when things get heated.

Ben knocks on her door, but instead of an answer, the door just gently falls open. As the century-old supe steps inside, he doesn’t recognize the room anymore.

Gone are the lively furniture and homey vibes. White walls, white floors, bleak windows, and an empty bed greet him.

Well, almost empty.

On the bed lies something Ben recognizes in an instant. It’s the green friendship bracelet he once gifted her, a piece of paper rolled inside of it like a scroll.

Bye, dude.

Ben crumbles the paper in his fist and throws it on the marbled linoleum, not wasting a second as he races to the nurses’ station and finds Derek.

“Where is she?” Ben snarls and plants his palms forcefully on the counter. God, does he wish he’d have his powers right now. He’d make the Earth shake in its core.

Derek, however, doesn’t even glance up from his trashy tabloid as he turns another page disinterestedly. “Where’s who?” “Y/N! Where is she? Her room is empty!”

That seems to catch Derek’s attention. He puts the magazine down and meets the former supe’s gaze. “Oh, uh, she left.”

“I know that. I can see that,” Ben grits patiently through his teeth. It’s hard being nice and polite when you truly want something. “When’s she coming back?”

The nurse wrinkles his brow. “Never,” he replies. “Didn’t she tell you? She finally left. For good. I say good for her. Was about time.”

Ben swallows. She left? Without him? Without saying goodbye? Without even telling him?

A part of him is happy for her. He wanted her to get out of the clinic and live her life to the fullest. If anyone deserved to, it was Y/N.

Another part, though, is shocked she left so easily without flinching. Without looking back and seeing him in the rearview mirror.

“Where’s she now? I need to see her. I need to tell her something,” Ben demands urgently. “Can you take me to her?”

“Nope, sorry. No more outings for you, Casanova,” Derek tells him. “Orders from the boss. With Y/N gone, you’re not allowed out anymore.”

“What?!” Ben stumps.

“Yeah, I know you didn’t realize this, but Y/N was protecting you. Without her, there’s no more privileges for you. Understood?” the nurse informs him indifferently.

Ben grinds his teeth, his furious green eyes locking on the door to the outside and then drift to the keycard hanging from the nurse’s white chest pocket.

Fast like a lightning bolt, Ben rips the card and makes a run for the exit. Screams for security, alarm bells, and red blinking lights start to fill the halls. But he’s almost made it. He’s so close to freedom, he can taste it on his goddamn tongue.

If he were naked and still had superpowers, it would feel like deja-vu.

Except the last time he broke free, no sea of arms slung around him and held him back. He screams and fights and shouts and hits. He can feel the cool prick of a needle in his jugular, feels the poison flood his veins.

And then, it all goes black.

Chapter 7: make up sex – March 22!

I know, I know they're both idiots. What d'you want me to do about it, huh? "Fix it! Fix it!" Yes, I hear ya... 😘

Since it's been a few months, I'm renewing the tags. I still linked the old one for this part as not everyone surely caught that I'm back. Join the new tag list here!

TAGS:

Everything Jensen Tag: @akshi8278 @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24

Series Tag: @nancymcl

Old Series Tag: @deans-spinster-witch @iamsapphine @jessjad @suckitands33 @ladysparkles78 @spalady26 @zepskies @syrma-sensei @muchamusedaboutnothing @deansbbyx @stoneyggirl2 @zannemes @foxyjwls007 @leigh70 @fromcaintodean @roseblue373 @globetrotter28

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #christen reads #christen’s fic recs #christen’s soldier boy fic recs #fic recs #fic recommendation #fic recommendations #fic rec #christen’s fic rec #christen’s fic recommendations #fix it now!#welcome back wayne!

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