What happens when you and Jensen break up and meet again after months of not seeing each other.
jacklessweetheart masterlist
note 1: This is kind of a part 2 to When in Rome, and you don't need to read it to understand this one, but...
note 2: I mean no hate towards anyone, this is just a work of fiction. Don’t like it, don’t read it. Be aware that English is not my first language, you can tell me if something doesn’t make sense. Also, please, comment! It means a lot to me to know if you like my work.
The bar was crowded, bass hummed low, lights soft glowing, the sound of clinking glasses also filling the place. I was out with my girls, laughing a little too loud, drinking colorful drinks, trying to pretend the last few months hadn't carved a hole in my chest. It had been almost a year with him. Jensen. A year that still felt like a fever dream.
He and I met at an after party in Rome. He was there in his amazing green suit, matching his eyes, sleeves rolled up, looking unfairly good for a man who could've been my dad's slightly younger brother. He was concerned with it since moment one, but to me it never mattered, not when his hand found the small of my back like it belonged there, not when his voice dropped low in my ear with his not-always-there Texas drawl, and definitely not when he had me pressed against his hotel room wall hours later, filthy, but gentle, whispering exactly what he was going to do to me like it was the most natural secret in the world.
After we spent that night together, after going back to our homes and our lives, we just couldn't stay away from each other. Messages turned into phone calls and facetime, that turned into a fancy dinner at his favorite restaurant in LA that he wanted to show me, and when I least expected he came over to my house with flowers and asked me to be his girlfriend. He’d always been perfect. Patient when I needed space, present when I didn’t. He showed up for my family dinners, charmed my mom, talked football with my dad like they’d known each other for years. He checked in when I was stressed, made me laugh until my ribs hurt, and in bed… God, Jensen was a gentleman everywhere else, but between the sheets he was devastating, subtle at first, almost shy in the way he’d watch me like he couldn’t quite believe his luck. Then that quiet confidence would slide in, his voice roughening as he told me exactly how my body felt around him, how pretty I sounded when I fell apart for him. Dirty in the softest, hottest way possible. And unforgettable.
Until the age thing started mattering to everyone else. The whispers. The looks. The way our friends joked about “daddy issues” one too many times. It chipped away until one rainy afternoon us both admitted it was getting too heavy. The breakup wasn’t dramatic, no screaming, no slammed doors. Just quiet sadness and the kind of hug that felt like goodbye and I’ll-miss-you in the same breath. He left my apartment and the rain immediately started to fall, like it wasn't just me crying. And I hadn't seen him anymore. Not until tonight.
I felt him before I saw him, his presence is always magnetic, making me feel a familiar prickle on the back of my neck. When I turned in his direction, he was leaning against the bar maybe twenty feet away, talking to a couple of guys, and something in the way he holds himself already made me melt. His eyes locked on me almost immediately, like they’d been waiting. He looked good, as usual, dark Henley stretched across his shoulders, jeans, that slight scruff along his jaw, his necklace picking off his shirt. His expression flickered: surprise, then something softer, almost hesitant. Shy, almost. My friends noticed too, one of them nudged me:
– Holy shit, isn't that…?
– Yeah – I murmured, heart hammering, but I didn't move and neither did he at first.
I was taking a sip of my drink when he excused himself from his group and started walking towards me, slow, like he was giving me time to bolt if I wanted. I didn't. When he stopped in front of me, close enough that I caught the scent of his cologne, he gave me that small, crooked smile.
– Hey, darlin’, – he said, voice low, subtle, a gentleman, but his eyes dragged over me for half a second, appreciating, remembering and making heat pool low on my stomach.
– Jen, – my voice came out steadier than I felt. – It's been a while.
– Too long – he confirmed and then glanced at my friends, a polite nod, then back to me. – You look… damn. You look good.
Our conversation started easy, just surface stuff, my work, his work, how my family was doing. He asked about everything like it really mattered to him, like he always did, and I hated how natural it felt. But underneath it, the air between us thickened. I caught his gaze on my mouth when I laughed or smiled, his fingers flexing around his whiskey cup, like he wanted to reach for my waist.
My friends drifted off to dance for a while, like they wanted to give us space, shooting me knowing looks. And suddenly it was just the two of us in the noisy bar, inches keeping us apart. He rubbed the back of his neck, that shy flicker again:
– I think about you a lot, more than I probably should.
My breath caught, I looked at his mouth.
– Yeah?
– Yeah! – His voice dropped, he stepped closer, shielding me from the crowd without getting into my space, classic Jensen.
When he noticed that he still had the same effect on me, that still could make my body melt just by looking at me, his confidence shifted in, like a switch. His eyes darkened as they held mine. He got even closer, his mouth near my ear, no more than a whisper:
– I think about how you used to look at me right before I’d pull you into my lap. How you’d say my name all soft and needy when I had my mouth on you. How fucking perfect you felt squeezing around me while I told you how good you were taking it.
Heat flashed through me. He said it so quietly, so matter-of-fact, like he was commenting on the weather, but the words were pure sin. Gentleman on the surface, filthy underneath. Exactly how I remembered. I swallowed:
– Jen…
– I miss that… I miss everything about you, I know I was the one that broke things up between us, I was afraid that you'd hate me because of what people said, but… – he breathed – I was wrong, and I know that now… I miss the way you’d get shy when I’d talk dirty, then beg me for more. Miss waking up with you tangled around me. – His hand brushed my arm, light, but it sent electricity across my skin. – He continued, voice rougher now, direct. – I miss being inside you… Tell me I’m not the only one who still feels it.
He wasn't. God, of course he wasn't.
– You're not – I whispered.
His smile turned knowing, that subtle heat flaring.
– Good. Because I’ve been standing here trying to be respectful, but all I can think about is taking you home, peeling that dress off you slowly, and reminding you exactly how well we fit. – He leaned in, lips brushing my ear. – I’d start gently, baby. Kiss every inch I’ve been missing. Then I’d get greedy. Have you riding me while I tell you how tight and wet you still get for me.
My thighs pressed together, the bar noise faded to nothing. He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, searching. A gentleman again, giving me the out if I wanted it, but the heat in his gaze said he hoped I wouldn’t take it. And I didn't.
– Take me home, Jensen, please.
His exhale was shaky with relief and want. He slipped his hand into mine, warm and sure, thumb stroking my knuckles like he used to. He left his cup and mine at the counter, left enough money to cover both of our tabs at least two times, and led me out into the cool night air. I felt the familiar pull, the one saying this might be too complicated in the morning, the reasons we broke up still between us. But that night, while his arm was sliding around my waist and his voice was murmuring low promises against my ear, none of it really mattered. I'd deal with the problems tomorrow.
The cool night air did nothing to settle the heat humming between us. He didn't say much, just opened the passenger door of his car for me like he always did, his fingers lingering a second longer than necessary on my waist as I slid in, and the look he gave me before closing the door made my stomach flip.
He started the engine, the low rumble filling the quiet space. For the first few blocks, he kept both hands on the wheel, driving with that calm focus he always had. I could feel him stealing glances at me, though. Soft at first, almost shy, like he was still processing that I was really there in his car again after months apart. Then his right hand left the wheel. It settled on my thigh, high enough that his fingertips brushed the hem of the dress, warm palm pressing against bare skin. Not demanding, just claiming. Gentle, but possessive in that quiet way that is only his.
– You're so beautiful – he murmured. His eyes flicking from the road to my face. THe streetlights washed over his face as he looked at me like I was the only thing worth seeing in the whole city. – I mean it. Every time I look at you… It hits me all over again. – His thumb started a slow, lazy stroke along the inside of my thigh, inching just under the fabric of the dress. The touch was light, almost reverent, but it sent sparks straight through me. He kept driving, one hand on the wheel, the other mapping my skin like he was memorizing it all over again. I shifted slightly, pressing my thighs together around his hand, and he let out a low breath. – Easy, baby – he said, voice dropping into that rougher tone that I love. A small, knowing smile tugged at his lips. – We’re not even halfway there yet. – But his fingers didn’t stop moving, doing subtle circles, teasing higher, then pulling back just enough to keep me wanting.
He glanced over again, longer this time. His green eyes darkened as they traced my face, lips, the way my chest rose with each quick breath. The city lights blurred past the windows while his hand kept its slow exploration. He squeezed my thigh gently, then let his fingers drift higher, brushing dangerously close to where I was already aching for him.
– I've been thinking about these thighs wrapped around me – he admitted, voice low and direct now, confidence fully slipped into place. – How soft they are. How they shake when I’ve got my tongue on you… or when I’m buried deep and you’re trying so hard to stay quiet for me. – He looked over once more, the same reverent, almost awed expression mixed with pure heat, before turning his attention back to the road. His apartment building came into view a few blocks ahead.
Jensen’s hand stayed right where it was, warm and sure on my thigh, thumb still stroking like he couldn’t bear to stop touching me. When he pulled into the underground parking garage and killed the engine, he didn’t move right away, he just turned to face me fully, eyes dragging over me slow and hungry.
– C’mere – he said softly. He leaned across the console, one hand still gripping me, the other sliding into my hair as he kissed me, deep, slow, like he'd been starving for it. When he finally pulled back, forehead resting against mine, his voice was barely above a whisper. – Let’s get upstairs, baby. I’ve got months of missing you to make up for.
The elevator ride up was torture in the best way. Jensen kept me close, his arm wrapped around my waist like he was afraid I’d vanish if he let go. His thumb traced slow circles over my hip through the thin fabric of my dress, and every floor that dinged by felt like it took forever. The mirrored walls caught us, his tall frame curved around mine making my legs feel weak, my flushed cheeks, his dark eyes locked on my reflection like he was already undressing me in his mind. When the doors opened on his floor, he didn’t rush. He guided me down the hall with that same quiet confidence, keys in his other hand, but he paused right outside his door. Turned me gently so my back was against the wall beside it, caging me in without touching me fully. His forehead dropped to mine again.
– You sure? – He whispered, voice low and rough. – We walk through this door and I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off you, darlin’... Not tonight.
I answered by sliding my hands up his chest, feeling the steady thunder of his heart under the soft Henley, and pulling him down into a kiss. It started slow like the one in the car, but hunger won fast. His tongue slid against mine, deep and claiming, one big hand cupping the back of my neck while the other gripped my waist hard enough to bruise in the sweetest way. He fumbled the key into the lock without breaking the kiss.
The inside of his apartment smelled like everything his, his laundry, his cologne, his aftershave, and that special smell that is only his. He kicked the door shut, backed me up against it, and kissed me like a man starved.
– Jen… _ I breathed, surprised by his actions.
– I've been dreaming about your mouth on mine for months.
His hands slid up my thighs, pushing the dress higher, slow and reverent. He pressed open-mouthed kisses along my face, my neck, pushing my hair aside for better access. His green eyes were almost black with want.
He knelt in front of me, and started to kiss my legs, calves, the inside of one knee, then higher, raising my dress with it, until his breath ghosted over my lace panties. He looked up at me and said:
– You're so fucking pretty, baby. – He got up, took my dress off completely, and kissed my mouth again. Then hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties and dragged the lace down my legs. He helped me step out of them, then tucked them into his back pocket with a wicked little grin. – Mine now.
I laughed a little, skeptic. But before I could respond, his mouth was on my body again. Hot, slow, devastating, in every corner that he could reach. Jensen groaned against me. He scooped me up like I weighed nothing, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me through the familiar apartment toward his bedroom. He laid me down on his bed like I was something precious, then stood back for a second just to look at me, totally naked to his mercy, chest heaving, lips swollen. He peeled his Henley off slowly, revealing the broad shoulders and defined chest I’d missed so badly. His necklace glinted against his skin. Jeans next, pushed down with his boxers until he was gloriously naked, cock heavy and flushed, already leaking at the tip. He crawled over me, settling between my thighs, forearms braced on either side of my head.
– Look at me, sweetheart – he said softly. And I did. Those green eyes were everything: soft, hungry, full of that quiet love that always undid me. – I missed you – he whispered.
– I missed you so much, Jen – I murmured, my eyes never leaving his face. – I don't want to stay away from you anymore.
– Me neither, love. I'm so sorry I left. – He breathed against my face, and left open-mouthed kisses all over my face. He lined himself up and pushed in slowly, inch by thick inch, stretching me open in that perfect burn I’d craved for months. – Fuck… This pussy is always so tight for me. – When he bottomed out, we both groaned. He stayed there, buried deep, forehead pressed to mine, breathing hard.
His hips rolled in tiny, maddening circles, slow. I wrapped my arms around his neck, nails digging into his back, I whispered against his ear:
– Fuck me, please – I begged.
– Yes, ma’am – I little playful smile on his lips and he started moving. His hips were slow at first, deep rolls of his hips that dragged every thick inch of him along every sensitive spot inside me, no rush like he wanted to savor every second, every flutter of my walls around him. – You’re pulling me in so deep. – He breathed against my lips, voice low and wrecked.
One of his hands stayed buried in my hair, fingers threaded through the strands, cradling the back of my head like I was fragile. The other hand never stopped moving, sliding down my side, gripping my hip to hold me open for him, then smoothing up my ribs, thumb brushing the underside of my breast. He kissed me like he was trying to pour every missed month into my mouth, wet, hungry, and then he pulled back just enough to trail those same kisses across my cheek, my jaw, the corner of my eye. When a soft whimper slipped out of me, he caught it with his lips again.
– Look at me, darlin’ – he whispered, forehead pressed to mine, green eyes dark and burning. Another slow, grinding thrust that made me arch my back off the bed.
The pleasure was already overwhelming, every drag of his cock, every circle of his thumb over my nipple, every time he tugged gently at my hair to tilt my head exactly how he wanted. I felt completely surrounded by him, consumed. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.
– Jen… – My voice cracked. His hand slid back into my hair, cradling my head as he kissed the tear that slipped free, tasting it.
– Too good, huh? – A mischievous smile on his face.
He kept the pace devastatingly slow but deep. His body covered mine completely, hips rolling in a perfect rhythm, chest pressed to my breasts, skin hot and slick. His free hand mapped every inch of me he could reach, down my thighs, hitching it higher around his waist, then back up to cup my face, thumb stroking my cheek while he kissed me again, tongue sliding against mine in time with his thrusts.
– You feel so perfect, – he murmured right against my mouth, voice rough – so wet, so tight. Missed this pussy squeezing me like it never wants me to leave. – He kissed my wet eyelashes, then the bridge of my nose, then my parted lips again.
Another tear slipped down my temple, and he chased it with his tongue, then sealed his mouth over mine in a deep, filthy kiss as he ground against my clit with every thrust. The pressure inside me coiled tighter, hotter, almost unbearable. My hands clutched at his back, nails digging in as my thighs started to shake around him.
– That’s my good girl – he praised, voice dropping even lower. His hand tightened gently in my hair, the other sliding down to grip my ass, pulling me into every stroke. – I want to feel you come all over me while I’m deep inside you. – He angled his hips just right and hit that spot inside me again and again. The combination of his cock, his constant touch, his mouth on my face, his voice in my ear was too much. My orgasm crashed over me hard, long, devastating. A broken sob tore from my throat as my walls clamped down around him, pulsing, flooding with heat. Tears streamed freely now, and Jensen kissed every single one away, murmuring soft, filthy praise against my skin. – Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing me so tight.
He fucked me through it, slow and steady, drawing it out until I was trembling and whimpering beneath him. Even when the last aftershocks faded his hips were still rolling gently, keeping me full of him. He brushed damp hair off my forehead.
He stayed buried deep inside me for a long moment after my first orgasm, kissing the tears from my cheeks, his cock still twitching with the effort of holding himself back.
– I want you to turn over for me, baby, – he murmured, voice husky. I nodded and he helped me turn, as I was boneless, but still eager. The large mirror leaning against the wall directly in front of his bed caught us perfectly. – Face down, ass up – he commanded and I did as I was told.
Jensen positioned me right at the edge of the mattress so I had a clear view: my flushed face, swollen lips, eyes still glassy with tears and lust. And behind me, him. He looked devastating: strong, broad shoulders flexed as he knelt behind me, chest glistening with a light sheen of sweat. His hair had fallen messily over his forehead, those green eyes dark and locked on my body in the reflection. The necklace dangled as he leaned forward. Every muscle in his body stood out as he gripped my waist with both big hands.
He spread his knees wider, pulling my hips back toward him. One hand stayed firm on my waist while the other slid down to my ass, squeezing, then gently opening me for him. I felt the thick head of his cock nudge against my soaked entrance, teasing once, twice, before he pushed in, stretching me open again in one long stroke until his hips were flush against my ass.
A broken cry left my lips.
– Fuck… Look at that – he groaned, watching in the mirror as he sank all the way in. His head fell back for a second, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure, before he forced them open again. His jaw tight, lips parted, raw pleasure written across every feature, made heat flood through me even harder.
He started thrusting, deep and powerful, one hand anchored on my waist, the other sliding up and down my back, then gripping my hip again so he could open me wider for every stroke. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, wet and filthy, mixed with his low, guttural groans.
I moaned, repeating his name like a prayer, unable to stop. Every thrust pushed a new cry from my throat asking for more. His hair fell further into his eyes as he leaned over me, one hand leaving my hip just long enough to brush it back before both hands returned in a possessive way, grounding, never leaving my body. Hips snapping harder now, the angle letting him hit that perfect spot with every stroke. It seemed like he just couldn't stop telling me how good my pussy felt around him, voice rough with pleasure. In the mirror I could see everything: the way his abs flexed with every thrust, the intense focus on his face, the way his mouth fell open on a moan when I clenched around him. All I could do was push back against him, desperate, chanting his name between sobs and moans. He growled, one hand sliding around to rub tight circles over my clit while the other kept a bruising grip on my hip, holding me open as he drove into me harder. His eyes never left mine in the mirror.
– I want you to come for me again, sweetheart.
The combination of his thick cock pounding deep, his fingers on my clit, the raw sight of him behind me looking wrecked with pleasure, his constant touch, sent me spiraling. My second orgasm ripped through me even harder than the first. I cried out his name, walls pulsing violently around him as my arms gave out and my face dropped to the sheets.
– Jensen… Fuck!
He kept thrusting through it, slower now but still deep, groaning my name like a curse and a blessing while his hands stroked soothingly over my back and hips, never once letting me go. His hair was messy over his eyes, chest heaving, that gorgeous face twisted in pleasure as he watched me fall apart for him in the mirror. He leaned down to press open-mouthed kisses along my spine.
When I finally caught my breath, I looked at him in the mirror. My voice came out hoarse, needy, and shameless:
– Jen, baby, please. I want you to come in my mouth. – I swallowed, cheeks burning.
His eyes darkened instantly. A slow, filthy smile spread across his face, part surprise, part pure sin. That gentleman mask slipped completely for a second.
He pulled out carefully, leaving me empty and aching, then helped me turn over onto my back with gentle but eager hands. I settled against the pillows, looking up at him as he moved over me. He straddled my chest first, then shifted higher until his thick thighs bracketed my face, knees planted on either side. The view was overwhelming, his powerful body towering above me, abs tight, cock heavy and slick from me, hovering just over my mouth. His hair fell messily into his eyes as he looked down, one hand braced on the headboard, the other already wrapping around his shaft.
– Open that pretty mouth for me, darlin’ – he murmured. I did, tongue out, eyes locked on his. He stroked himself slowly at first, base to tip, his fist slick with my wetness. The muscles in his arm and chest flexed with every movement. He looked wrecked, jaw slack, lips parted, that dirty smile still playing at the edges as he watched me wait for him like this. – Such a good little slut for me – he praised, voice dripping with heat. His free hand reached down to cup my cheek, thumb stroking my bottom lip. – Look at you, huh, so fucking eager.
His strokes grew faster. Low groans slipped from his throat as his hips twitched. I could see the way his brows pulled together, the way his mouth fell open further, the flush creeping up his neck. His thighs trembled slightly against the sides of my head.
I moaned softly, tongue ready, hands sliding up his thighs to hold onto him. That seemed to push him over the edge. His rhythm faltered, a deep guttural groan tearing from his chest as the first thick rope of cum landed across my tongue. Then another, and another. Hot and salty, coating my lips and tongue as he kept stroking through it, milking himself empty with shaky breaths.
He looked so beautiful like that, head tipped back slightly, hair in his eyes, chest heaving, lost in pleasure because of me.
When he finally finished, he stayed there for a second, breathing hard, then slid back down my body. He immediately leaned in and kissed me deep, tasting himself on my tongue without hesitation, groaning into my mouth. His hands cradled my face, thumbs wiping the corners of my lips where some had spilled.
– Goddamn, you’re perfect – he whispered against my lips, voice soft again, full of love. He kissed me slower, sweeter, then pressed open-mouthed kisses across my flushed cheeks and damp eyelashes. – Come here. – He pulled me into his arms, rolling us so I was tucked against his chest, his big hands never leaving my skin, holding me like he never wanted to let go again. – Don't go, please. Never again.
note 3: I hope you liked it! Please, comment and reblog :)
SUMMARY : you comfort jensen when he returns to the hotel room after that hellish panel.
WARNINGS : estalished relationship. strong language. fluff. angst. smut. oral (m. receiving). unprotected p in v. rough sex. sadistic!jensen (if you squint). masochistic!reader (if you squint). dom!jensen. sub!reader. mention of verbal abuse. hair pulling. dacryphilia. cream pie. cockwarming. asphyxiophilia.
A/N : so sick about what happened to jensen over the weekend and all the hate that still follows. fuck all who are encouraging his mistreatment and those who are doing it. i love you jensen, you deserve more!
You anxiously waited for his return in your shared hotel room. How dare they?! After all he’s given to the character, they treat him like that?! You’re livid! Jensen is a kind person who listens and treats everyone with respect. He uses his days off to attend last-minute conventions, only to be treated like absolute trash! Your heart broke, and if you knew he wouldn’t get backlash from your actions, you would’ve thrown hands. The second the door opens, you jump off the couch and greet him.
“Hey, baby,” you say with gentle precaution.
“Hey.”
His eyes are heavy and kept low as he enters the room. He barely acknowledges you with a small peck to your temple before slumping on the couch, exhausted from the heated panel. You kneel down and take off his boots, relieving his tired feet of their confinement. He closes his eyes with a sigh after you set them aside and begin massaging him. He leans his head back on the cushion, trying his hardest to be swept away by the sensations your hands bring.
“Thank you.”
You hum in response, focusing a little longer on his feet before making your way up his legs. Words bounced around in your head, hoping for the right ones to come out. He looks so peaceful, you almost don’t want to disrupt the warfare going on up there, but you’re bursting to make him feel better. Your hands rub up his thighs a few times before you lift yourself off the ground and straddle his hips. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even open an eyelid to peek at you, so you continue your massage.
Your hands rub over his silk black shirt before working his neck and shoulder muscles. The poor man was tense, and you tried your hardest to massage the knots out of them. Small groans and grunts fall from his lips, and each one breaks your heart a little. When was the last time he took care of himself when you weren’t with him? You didn’t even want to imagine what he’d do if he came back to an empty room. Whether he wanted it or not, you’re going to do your best to ease his mind as best as you can. Your hands move to his head, then face, adding just the right amount of pressure to provide relief. Yet, he’s still troubled.
“I’m so sorry you had to put up with that.”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t even wrap my head around how disrespectful they were. To try and force you to believe—”
“I don’t want to talk about it, sweetheart.”
You nod, but he doesn’t see. “Okay. I understand.”
“I just want to forget about it.”
“I can help with that.”
You lean forward and press your lips against his in a soft kiss. He returns it before you trail your kisses downward. From his cheek to his neck, over his collarbone, and onto his chest, before his shirt impedes further down. You slide off his lap and kneel between his legs once more, your hands working his belt. He adjusts in his seat as his boner reacts. His face scrunches, and you bite your lip, wanting more.
“Baby...”
“What?” You ask as you kiss the outside of his jeans.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
You unzip his pants and yank them down without his help. His boxers try holding down his erection, but his dick jerks, begging to be set free.
“Mm, don’t have to.”
But his body says another thing. He scooches down, allowing you more access. You move the briefs out of your way, and his member springs up. His tip is as red as your face was earlier, and all you want to do is suffocate on his length. It stands tall, proud, and ready to be swallowed, just like it deserved to be. Your mouth waters, needing your husband’s cock.
“I want to. I really, really want to.”
Your hand wraps around the base of his phallus, guiding it at an angle before leaning over his lap and engulfing him. Jensen moans the second he feels your lips around his bellend. Your eyes close, and you let your tongue take over, like it had a mind of its own. It circles around his burning tip, even dipping into his slit, making him jump in his seat. His hand flies to your head, his fingers interwining with your roots as his teeth clamp down on his lower lip.
Fuck everyone else. This woman is going to be the death of me, he thought. His tune changed from before, trying to pretend like he didn’t want you relieving his stress this way, to now shoving your head further on his dick. You take a deep breath and allow Jensen to guide you. With your tongue flat against the back of his member, he glides down your throat until he reaches your uvula, until he can’t go any further, until you’re gagging.
He opens his eyes just enough to see you. Your nose is pressed against his pelvis, his unshaven hairs tickling your skin. He finds it cute how your hands rest on his clothed thighs, your nails digging in as you slowly begin to asphyxiate. He felt a little sick for seeking pleasure in watching you struggle to breathe, but finding it so damn hot that not only did he enjoy it, but so did you. Your head begins to swirl, and on instinct, your eyes fly open from the lack of oxygen. You look up and make eye contact with your partner, a smirk replacing his frown, and if you could smile too, you would.
Jensen pulls your head back slowly and uncorks your windpipe. Your nostrils inhale sharply, filling your lungs with as much air as they can hold before you’re pushed down again. His tip hits the back of your throat again, and you know with his mood, you’re no longer in control. And you’re perfectly fine with that. He guides you, up and down, fast and slow. You hollow your mouth, work your tongue, bob your head, and suck just how he likes it. He’s sure he tastes blood from how hard he bites his lip, but he doesn’t care.
The way you worked in your tricks with little control amazed him. The way tears fell from your eyes, but you didn’t ask to stop once. The way you moaned when his hips began to jerk, pushing his cock deeper down your throat. The way your saliva dripped down his shaft, allowing an easier glide for him in and out of your pretty hole. The way your eyes rolled to the back of your head because you loved the way he fucked your mouth.
Your underwear is drenched with wetness, and he knows it. Despite being his wife, he still referred to you as his slut, the way you reacted to him. You clench around nothing, aching for him to fill you there, too. He’s close, and you know it. You work with him, trying to speed your bobbing as if it were humanly possible. That’s it, he thought before ripping you away and pulling you up with him.
You’re dizzy and disoriented before he falls onto the bed with you. He tears your bottoms off, making you squeal. He shuts you up real quick when he shoves his wet dick into your wetter pussy. The motion is so strong, you gasp, and he groans. Your mouth falls open as he sets a fast and deep pace. Your arms fly around him, holding on for dear life as he pounds you like tomorrow isn’t promised.
Holy fuck, is the only thing your mind keeps repeating that your voice can’t quite repeat. You squirm underneath him, but his body holds you in place. His tip hits your g-spot, over and over again. Tears fall like summer rain, and his hips are lightning. Your skins slap together, echoing like thunder. The bed frame slams against the wall, knocking on it and asking if its neighbor is awake. You know you’d hear it from Jared tomorrow.
You cry out, Jensen’s grunts only encouraging you to get there faster. His breath fans your neck as his breathy moans lick your eardrums. His hands grip your body as he holds you as tight as you him; you’re sure they’ll be bruises soon, and you can’t wait to indulge in them. Your feet dig into his lower back, just above his perfect ass, your thighs squeezing his hips as you try to last. Only, you can’t, and neither can he. His hips slam against you, halting as he shouts for all to hear. You join him, screaming as you cum on him just as hard as he cums in you.
Holy...fuck...
He slumps on your body, refraining from adding all of his weight on you, not that you couldn’t handle it. Your heart pounds against your ribcage, like a prisoner on its cell bars. Sweat coats your bodies after the unexpected and spontaneous workout you both participated in. Your feet push the rest of his jeans off his legs, and it falls to the floor in a clump. He quickly removes his button-down, and you follow with your upper garments, needing every bit of air your body could get. It was as if the heater was working on full blast in the tainted room, but it was only the heat from your bodies.
“Fuck, baby girl, that was...thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, that was all you.”
He catches your lips, deepening the kiss for as long as his lungs would allow. He comes up for air, his lips hovering above yours as he opens his eyes. Feeling his stare, you open yours and gaze into his dark green orbs. He pushes your sweat-drenched flyaways away from your face, completely captivated by your beauty. Yet, not like you were by his.
“I am so in love with you.”
“Not as much as I love you, baby.” You look down, knowing he doesn’t want to talk about it, but needing to say your peace. “It was really hard for me not to speak up for you. Seeing you on that stage...it broke my heart, and all I wanted to do was fight everyone in that room that booed you and agreed with them.”
His finger lifts your chin so you can look at him once more. “I know, sweetheart, but at the end of the day, that won’t fix anything.”
“It’ll make me feel better,” you murmur.
He chuckles, knowing you’re telling the truth. “Trust me, you and me both, but people will be people, and unfortunately, we can’t change who they are or their opinions. So, fuck ‘em. We just gotta let it go and move on. And darlin’, after that, I can’t even remember why I was upset.”
A bright smile graces your face, lifting both your spirits. Suddenly, nothing and no one else mattered. Just you and him, your shared happiness, love, and support for one another. That’s what mattered. That’s all that’ll ever matter.
JENSEN ACKLES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | JOIN THE TAG LIST
Summary: The reader has been quietly dating the Ackles for close to two years now. When a bad day gets even worse, she questions what she’s doing running around with a married couple when she can’t even say who she’s dating…
⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Ben might gloat otherwise, but he's a sucker for missionary. He’ll frame your face with his hands and kiss you between slow, deep thrusts. "That must feel fucking amazing," he’ll chuckle, his thumb wiping a stray tear of pleasure from your cheek. "Alright, lean into me, come on."
⋆｡𖦹°‧★ He gets hot for a tight, face-to-face spooning position. He’ll pull you against his chest, wrapping his arm completely around you so you’re tucked perfectly under his chin. Your leg splays over his waist, and his hand gropes at the back of your thigh. It’s lazy, intimate, and allows for his sugar-talking in your ear while he pumps into you steadily.
⋆｡𖦹°‧★ When you're feeling high energy, he loves when you straddle him while he’s propped up against the headboard. He keeps his hands at your waist, guiding the frantic roll of your hips and becomes intoxicated by your expressions. Push him down flat on the bed and reverse... he's a lucky man.
⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Afterward, he won't let you slide away. He pulls you against his chest and winds his legs around yours to keep you at his side. "Fucking masterful," he’ll mutter sleepily, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder.
I obviously tag everything so it won’t show up for people who filter out AI, but if you still happened to see this by some miracle — just scroll past and don’t look.
Barely offstage, Jensen glances around — and before Jared can take another step, he grabs his wrist and pulls him sharply into the folds of the heavy, dark drapes. They vanish almost unseen, sinking deeper until the light fades and the noise dulls to nothing.
They’re holding each other.
Jensen buries his face into Jared’s chest and wraps his arms around his waist so tight it almost hurts. But the huge, touch-starved beast inside him just purrs, curling up small and satisfied.
Jared laughs, hugging Jensen back, resting his chin on his head, eyes closed. The embrace feels like a blanket. The world shrinks down to just them — a warm, quiet shelter made of their own scent, breath, and heartbeat.
I haven’t written in maybe six months — probably more — but I saw this photo, and… well. Here we are.
Jensen breathes in, slow and deep. Jared’s smell fills him up, spreading that familiar warmth inside. Feels good.
He could stand like this forever. Jensen growls softly, rubbing his forehead against Jared’s T-shirt as if trying to burrow closer, and grins when Jared chuckles — a quick burst of warm air against his hair.
“love you, babe,” Jared murmurs, tracing lazy circles along Jensen’s shoulder and back with his fingertips.
And Jensen feels so good he doesn’t even want to answer — because Jared already knows.
Still, he hums in agreement, eyes half-closed.
A heartbeat later, he lifts his face, a smug grin creeping across it, and nips at Jared’s chin before sliding his mouth up his cheek.
“How much, exactly? I demand proof.”
Jared laughs again, bumping his forehead against Jensen’s. Their eyes meet, and Jensen’s gaze goes soft and heavy, glued to Jared’s lips.
“Come on,” Jared says, smiling. “I’ll show you in the room.”
That look doesn’t escape him — but Jared still slips free from Jensen’s grip, winks, and slips backstage through the dark curtain.
the moment jacob imprinted on you, it hit him like a collision.
one second he was walking through the woods. the next, your laugh cracked through the trees and he froze. the world tunneled. everything else faded.
and you, you, suddenly became the center of his universe.
for days after, he couldn’t stop staring at you.
not in a creepy way, but in the i-don’t-know-how-i-ever-lived-without-you kind of way. the pack teased him mercilessly for it.
“jake, dude. seriously, you’re smiling at your phone like she’s gonna text by telepathy.”
“shut up, paul.”
jacob was terrified to tell you about the imprint at first. not because he didn’t want it. god, he wanted you. but because he didn’t want you to feel pressured.
“you’ve got a choice,” he said, quietly, eyes locked on yours. “even if the universe picked you for me… you still get to pick me, too.”
when you finally admitted you felt it too. that inexplicable pull, that comfort in his presence, the way his arms felt more like home than your own bed, he physically exhaled in relief. then pulled you into the tightest hug you’d ever felt.
jacob is fiercely protective of you. not possessive, but primal. the moment anyone makes you uncomfortable, he’s beside you in a blink, tall and broad and unreadable.
“everything okay?”
just those two words. calm, low, and absolutely threatening.
his wolf instincts are always on when it comes to you. you could be across the field at a bonfire, talking to someone else, and he still notices the way your shoulders tense or your fingers fidget.
he’s always watching, always tuned in to your energy.
you calm his wolf better than anything else. when he phases back after a bad patrol, he finds you. buries his face in your neck. breathes you in.
“you keep me human,” he whispers once. “don’t even know if you realize it.”
physical affection is nonstop.
jacob is a furnace and he’s always wrapping around you. laying his head in your lap, pulling you into his hoodie, holding your hand under the table like he needs the anchor.
and when you’re not around, he wears your scent like armor.
the first time you get sick or hurt? jacob panics.
he’s at your side in seconds, flustered, pacing, asking if you need anything, until you tug on his shirt and say, “just stay.”
so he does. he stays until you fall asleep. and then longer.
imprint fights hit differently.
not because you argue often, but because when you do, it hurts. like a soul-level tear. he can feel your pain, and it drives him mad.
he’ll give you space if you ask, but he paces, restless, desperate to fix it.
“i hate when we’re like this. i can’t… breathe right without you.”
the bond gives jacob this uncanny ability to know what you need before you do.
he shows up with your favorite snacks after a long day. hands you his hoodie when you’re just starting to feel cold. pulls you into his chest the second your anxiety spikes, even if you haven’t said a word.
he’s so gentle with you. for someone who’s built of muscle and heat and power, he holds you like you’re made of light.
jacob kisses your temple like a promise. runs his thumb along your jaw when you’re tired, like he’s reminding himself you’re real.
sometimes you wake up and find him staring at you, eyes warm, voice still raspy from sleep:
“how’d i get so lucky?”
and when you say you love him. genuinely, freely, not because of the imprint but because you chose him, he breaks. full-body stillness, eyes wet, voice cracking.
“you mean that? you really… love me? because, god, i’ve loved you for so long, i don’t know how to be without you anymore.”
jacob black is so touchy once you’re together.
he always has a hand on you, wrapped around your waist, fingers laced with yours, a casual arm draped over your shoulders, even when you’re just standing in line somewhere.
it’s instinctive. protective. warm. grounding.
he calls you “babe” most of the time, but sometimes, when he’s sleepy or worried, he murmurs “sweetheart” under his breath like he doesn’t even realize it’s slipped out.
he builds you things. shelves, little wooden carvings, a custom seat for the back of his bike. he never says it outright, but he wants to leave his mark in your space. proof that he’s there, and not going anywhere.
you always know when something’s wrong because jacob shuts down. his jaw clenches. he gets quiet. he’ll go on a run to clear his head, but when he comes back, he always wraps you in the tightest hug, like he needs to feel you breathe just to calm down.
you once told him, half-jokingly, that you liked wolves. now he brings you random little wolf trinkets and says things like “thought you’d want something that looked like me,” with a cocky smirk and that damn dimple.
the first time he got really hurt on patrol, he tried to hide it. didn’t want you to worry. you found out anyway and lost it on him, tears in your eyes. he was stunned into silence.
the next day, he showed up with a small first-aid kit and asked if you could keep it “just in case.” he never hides injuries again.
jealous jacob is very real.
even if someone just looks at you the wrong way, his entire body tenses. you’ll grab his hand and squeeze it to ground him, whispering, “you’ve got nothing to worry about, jake.” he just kisses your knuckles and glares at the guy over your shoulder anyway.
the pack knows not to make any comments about you around him.
once, paul made a teasing joke, and jacob had him pinned to a tree in seconds. “say something like that again, and i’ll send you to the fucking hospital.”
he loves when you sit in his lap. like… loves it.
especially when you’re both hanging with the pack and you settle there without thinking. he gets all smug and wraps his arms around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
he’s surprisingly insecure at times. not because of you, but because he worries he’s too much. too intense, too broken, too wrapped up in the world he didn’t choose.
you always make him look at you when he spirals, pressing your hand to his chest and saying, “you’re more than enough. and you’re mine.”
jacob leaves your favorite snacks in your bag or car when he knows he’ll be gone for patrol. they’re always labeled in sharpie:
“for my girl. don’t forget to eat.”
“miss you already :(.”
“my pretty girl, i love you.”
jacob is so softly obsessed with you. the way you talk with your hands. how you hum while brushing your teeth. the little crease in your brow when you read. he memorizes it all.
sometimes, when you’re sleeping, he stays up just watching you. he brushes your hair back, traces the curve of your cheek with his finger, and whispers, “you don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”
when you say “i love you” out of nowhere, he melts. no matter how many times you say it, it still stuns him.
Hey, could you please write a one-shot featuring Soldier Boy and a reader? So the reader is Billy's younger semi-civilian (kinda like Jessica Jones from Marvel) sister who got kidnapped by Vought because she hacked into the Vought system to try to expose their dark secret to the world. Before she was taken the reader left something very important in the safe (videotape of the reader leaving a cryptic message along with USB and files.) which will help the boys take down Vought and Homelander for good meanwhile, the reader is being shipped off to a facility in Serbia where Vought owns that does experiments, etc, also Vought knew that both Billy and Ben (who has feelings for the reader) will rescue reader so they stage her death by showing fake evidence, while the reader was in captivity she meet a young girl who also was taken and has powers the two of them form a sisterly companionship the reader protected her from the scientists and the guards. A year later, Maeve told the boys there was a possibility of Reader being alive in captivity at a facility in Serbia and evidence of the supposed death was fake, so they flew to Serbia for a rescue mission then stormed into the base where both Reader and the girl were being held ben found them but the reader was in a critical condition so Ben carried her along with leading the girl out of the cell into the plan then suddenly the reader stopped breathing ben tries to do cpr to save her but no heart beat, ben down broke down about wishing he told reader how he felt and then reader's sister like figure used her powers to transfer some of her life force to reader to resurrect her everyone is relieved of the reader being alive along with ben kissing her and they fly back home and reader recovered along with her and ben are now in a relationship, also help her sister figure to adapt the new environment.
The dead don’t stay buried
Soldier Boy x reader
Everyone believed Billy Butcher’s younger sister died in a fiery explosion after trying to expose Vought’s darkest secrets. Even Soldier Boy was forced to mourn her, haunted by the feelings he never got the chance to confess. But somewhere beneath a hidden facility in Serbia, she’s still alive—broken, experimented on, and fighting to protect a frightened little girl trapped beside her.
When Queen Maeve uncovers evidence that the death was staged, The Boys launch a desperate rescue mission across the world. What they find is far worse than they imagined. And when Soldier Boy finally reaches her after a year of grief and torture, he realizes he may already be too late.
Warnings: survival, found family, and love that refused to die—even when the world tried to bury it.
A/N: Let me know what you think 🫶
Requests are open 💞
The first thing Ben noticed was the silence.
Not the normal kind—the tense, waiting kind that always hung around safehouses and war rooms—but the hollow kind. The kind that made the air feel wrong.
Billy stood frozen in front of the steel safe hidden behind the bookshelf, jaw clenched so hard it looked painful. Frenchie hovered nearby with Kimiko while Hughie kept glancing toward the television screen where Vought News Network replayed the same headline over and over.
WANTED HACKER DIES IN EXPLOSION.
Your face flickered across the screen.
Ben watched Billy carefully.
No screaming.
No punching walls.
That was worse.
“Open it,” Billy muttered.
Mother’s Milk exhaled sharply. “Butcher…”
“Open. The bloody. Safe.”
Frenchie finally cracked it open.
Inside were stacks of files, a bundle of hard drives, and an old videotape labeled in black marker:
IF YOU’RE WATCHING THIS, SOMETHING WENT WRONG.
Ben’s stomach dropped.
Billy shoved the tape into the VCR.
Static crackled across the screen before your face appeared.
You looked exhausted.
Hair messy. Lip split. Fingers trembling slightly as you adjusted the camera.
But your eyes—
Still stubborn.
Still defiant.
“Hi, boys.”
Billy visibly stopped breathing.
“If this tape is playing, it means Vought found me before I could finish exposing them.” You swallowed thickly. “Which means they’re either going to kill me… or make everyone think they did.”
Hughie frowned. “What?”
Your eyes darted off-camera like you expected someone to burst through the door any second.
“There’s a USB in the folder marked Red River. Don’t give it to the CIA. Don’t trust Neuman. And whatever you do—”
The screen glitched.
“—don’t let Homelander get to Site Lazarus.”
Frenchie immediately began digging through the files.
You continued.
“And Billy…”
Your voice softened.
“For once in your miserable life, don’t come after me.”
Billy scoffed bitterly.
Ben stared at the screen like it might somehow pull you back into existence.
Then your expression changed slightly.
More vulnerable.
“And Ben…”
The room went still.
You smiled faintly.
“You deserved to hear this in person.”
Ben’s chest tightened.
“I think I was starting to fall for you too.”
Static swallowed the tape.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Then Billy grabbed the nearest chair and hurled it across the room.
—
Serbia smelled like bleach, rust, and blood.
You learned that within the first week.
The facility sat beneath an abandoned chemical plant buried deep in the mountains. No sunlight. No clocks. No names.
Only numbers.
The scientists called you Subject 42.
The little girl in the neighboring cell was Subject 51.
She couldn’t have been older than ten.
The first time you saw her, she was shaking violently after one of the experiments, knees tucked to her chest while electricity crackled unintentionally from her fingertips.
A guard struck her across the face.
You lunged without thinking.
The chain around your wrists snapped taut as you slammed into the glass divider.
“Touch her again,” you hissed, “and I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth.”
The guard laughed.
Then shocked you unconscious.
After that, the girl followed you everywhere she could.
She snuck into your cell during power outages.
Curled beside you during nightmares.
Held your hand after the experiments got particularly brutal.
Her name was Mila.
And slowly, impossibly, she became your little sister.
You taught her card games using scraps of paper.
Taught her how to curse in English.
How to survive.
How to hide fear.
And every night before she fell asleep, she’d ask the same thing.
“Do you think they’re looking for us?”
You always answered yes.
Even when you stopped believing it yourself.
—
One year later.
Maeve arrived at the safehouse bleeding and furious.
“She’s alive.”
Billy’s head snapped upward so fast it startled Hughie.
“What?”
Maeve threw a folder onto the table.
“Vought fabricated the body. Dental records were fake. The facility’s in Serbia.” Her eyes flicked toward Ben. “And if you’re going, you go now. Before they move her again.”
Ben was already grabbing his shield.
—
The raid felt less like a rescue mission and more like a massacre.
Sirens screamed through the underground corridors.
Gunfire echoed endlessly.
Kimiko tore through guards with terrifying precision while Frenchie planted explosives along the support beams.
Billy shot anyone wearing a lab coat.
Ben blasted through reinforced doors like they were paper.
“Y/N!” he roared.
Nothing.
Again.
“Y/N!”
Then—
A weak voice.
“Ben…?”
His heart nearly stopped.
He tore the final steel door off its hinges.
And there you were.
Curled protectively around a little girl in the corner of the cell.
Bruised.
Too thin.
Barely conscious.
But alive.
“Oh my God,” Hughie whispered behind him.
Ben crossed the room in seconds.
You tried to stand but collapsed immediately.
“Easy, sweetheart, easy—”
The nickname broke something inside you.
Your eyes filled instantly.
“You came.”
“‘Course I fucking came.” His voice cracked violently. “Jesus Christ, look at you…”
Mila clung tightly to your arm, terrified.
You touched her hair gently.
“She comes with us.”
“Yeah,” Ben said immediately. “Yeah, kid too.”
Alarms blared louder.
The facility began shaking from Frenchie’s explosives.
Ben scooped you into his arms while reaching his free hand toward Mila.
“Stay close to me, alright?”
Mila nodded quickly.
You buried your face weakly against Ben’s neck as he carried you through smoke-filled hallways.
“You’re okay,” he whispered over and over. “You’re okay now.”
But halfway to the extraction point—
Your body suddenly jerked violently.
Ben frowned.
“Y/N?”
No response.
Your head lolled backward.
Completely limp.
“Y/N.”
Nothing.
His panic became immediate.
“No no no no—”
By the time they reached the plane, your pulse was gone.
Ben dropped to his knees on the ramp with shaking hands.
“MOVE!” he barked.
MM shoved medical supplies toward him while Hughie stood frozen in horror.
Ben pressed his hands against your chest.
“One—two—three—”
CPR.
Again.
Again.
Again.
“Come on,” he begged.
No heartbeat.
Billy looked sick.
Kimiko quietly covered her mouth.
Ben’s breathing became ragged.
“You can’t do this,” he whispered desperately. “Not now. Please…”
He pressed his forehead against yours.
“I should’ve told you.”
Silence.
“I should’ve fucking told you I loved you.”
Mila suddenly stepped forward.
Her small hands crackled with faint golden light.
Everyone stared.
The girl looked terrified.
“She protected me,” Mila whispered tearfully. “Now I protect her.”
Maeve frowned. “Kid—”
But Mila placed both glowing hands over your chest.
Energy burst through the cabin.
The lights flickered violently.
Mila cried out in pain as golden light poured from her body into yours.
Then suddenly—
You gasped.
A sharp, violent inhale.
Ben froze.
Your eyes fluttered open weakly.
The entire plane erupted into stunned relief.
Hughie actually started crying.
Billy turned away quickly, pretending he wasn’t emotional.
And Ben—
Ben looked shattered.
Relieved.
Overwhelmed.
Terrified.
All at once.
He grabbed your face carefully like you might disappear again.
“You’re alive,” he whispered.
You smiled weakly.
“Told you… I’m hard to kill.”
Then he kissed you.
Not hesitant.
Not careful.
Just desperate relief and months of grief crashing together at once.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
“You ever scare me like that again,” he muttered shakily, “I’ll kill you myself.”
You laughed weakly through tears.
Behind you, Mila smiled sleepily before collapsing into Kimiko’s arms from exhaustion.
—
Recovery was slow.
Painful.
Messy.
But for the first time in a long time—
Safe.
Ben stayed beside you through every nightmare, every panic attack, every sleepless night where Serbia came rushing back.
And Mila?
She adapted slowly too.
She became attached to Kimiko almost immediately.
Frenchie taught her music.
Hughie helped her learn English slang.
Billy pretended he didn’t care while secretly leaving snacks outside her room every night.
And one evening, months later, you found Ben asleep on the couch with Mila curled against his side while an old movie played softly in the background.
The sight hit you so hard your chest hurt.
Because after everything—
The experiments.
The torture.
The fake death.
The grief.
You finally had something none of Vought could ever understand.
summary: soldier boy doesn’t realize just how scared of him you truly are
pairing: soldier boy x female reader
rating: R for language, mature themes
word count: 5.2k
warnings: please read! language, mentions of sexual assault, attempted sexual assault, drugging, violence, forced purging (to prevent possible death), briefly mentioned nudity (not in a smutty way), much darker than anything i’ve published before
author’s note: this started out as a small idea but i got really carried away lol.
another note: sorry for kinda ghosting after uploading the last fic, my brain hates me 🙃 i can’t promise i won’t “disappear” again like immediately after uploading this so thank you in advance for any/all feedback/comments 💞💞
It was late at night (more like early morning) when you were arguing with Butcher at the door.
“Don’t you dare leave me here alone with him!” you seethed.
“C’mon, love, the old cunt’s gonna be asleep the whole time I’m gone.”
Your teeth clenched at the idea of being alone in the house with Soldier Boy, but if Billy didn’t go now to “run an errand” he’d probably have to go later that day anyway.
“Fine,” you sighed. “But if ‘the old cunt’ lays a fucking finger on me I swear to god Butcher!”
“I’ll be back by nine.”
**
A loud knock on your door woke you up.
“Hey! Sweetheart!” Soldier Boy’s voice shouted from the other side. “You up?”
“I am now,” you mumbled to yourself angrily. 7:26 your clock read.
“I heard that,” Soldier Boy said.
Shit, you thought. “What do you want?”
“The stupid TV isn’t fuckin’ working, I need you to come and work your magic for me.”
You sighed. You couldn’t ignore him at this point, that’d most likely just anger him further. If he wanted to he’d just break down the door and drag you out to the living room.
“C’mon toots, don’t be a bitch about it,” he exclaimed.
“Screw you,” you mumbled.
“Hey!” Soldier Boy exclaimed. “What’d I just fuckin’ say!” He tried opening the door but you’d obviously locked it.
“I-I’ll be out in a second,” you told him.
“That’s more like it,” he mumbled back.
You quickly got out of bed (whole outfit still on, just in case Soldier Boy had tried something in the night) and hurried to the door before you opened it. There he stood, the strongest man alive. You gulped nervously as he didn’t move and stayed blocking your way out.
He eyed you up and down obnoxiously, smirking at the sight and making your heart beat faster.
“Same outfit as last night, I see,” he said.
“S-So?” you asked, trying to mask the pure fear this man instilled in you. “I just like these clothes, is all.” He didn’t say anything, just kept smirking at you. “You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday, too, you know!”
“So you have been checking me out.” He nodded a little, the smirk still on his face.
“Did you want me to help you with the TV or did you just wake me up to be a dick?”
“TV,” he grumbled, “but would it kill you to be polite once in a while?”
“Would it kill you to move out of the way so I can head downstairs?”
He furrowed his brows before he rolled his eyes and stepped to the side; “After you, princess,” he mocked. You left your bedroom and he followed you downstairs to where the perfectly functioning TV hung on the wall.
You hated the way Soldier Boy eyed you as you took the remote out from the cabinet beside the TV and turned it on.
“It seems to be working fine?” you said, wanting to take his attention off of your ass. “What were you trying to watch?”
“Uh…how bout you pick something for us?” he offered.
“Excuse me?” you practically scoffed.
“C’mon, sit down and watch with me,” he said. You turned around, expecting to see him sitting on the couch, but he was now standing about a yard away from you. “Butcher seems to be gone…” He took a step towards you. “We’ve got the whole house to ourselves…” Another step. “Why don’t we have some fun?” He reached out and lightly touched your cheek, traced down the side of your face, and tilted your chin up to look him in the eyes.
“Soldier Boy—”
“I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me,” he interrupted you. “I know your heart starts racing when I walk into a room, I know it beats even faster when I get close. I know you want me, don’t even try to fuckin’ deny it.”
“P-Please—”
“Oh, I like a woman who knows when to beg,” he chuckled lowly as he bent down to kiss you.
“Please don’t hurt me, please,” you said quickly, tears stinging your eyes as they threatened to fall. “I-I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch to you, I-I didn’t mean it! Please don’t kill me!”
“Kill you?” He stood up straight, pulling his hand up off your face and putting it up in defense. “Kill you?” There was a moment of silence as he intensely looked at your reaction to him getting so close. “You…You’re scared of me, aren’t you?”
You nodded slightly, worried you might upset him as his face fell. He seemed almost saddened by the fact you didn’t want him near you.
“But…I’m a hero,” he scoffed slightly. “Why would you be scared of me?”
“Please don’t take it personally,” you said. “Just let me set up the TV for you and go back to my room…please?”
“You’re fuckin’ terrified right now, aren’t you?” he asked and again you nodded, again he scoffed.
“Can you blame me?” you asked. “I-If I rub you the wrong way you could snap my neck like a chicken bone without breaking a sweat.”
“But I…” He continued looking at you with confusion that seemed to be laced with curiosity. “I wouldn’t. I mean, I know I get angry sometimes but I’d never hurt you?”
“You wouldn’t be the first hero to turn on me,” you told him quietly. Soldier Boy paused and thought about what to do next. He’d never been in a situation like this before; standing alone with someone who was genuinely scared of him, someone that didn’t trust a hero like himself.
“Just uh… Just turn on a movie and you can go,” he said before he took a seat on the couch. “Another one from my time, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure,” you said; a small, forced smile on your lips. You found a movie you thought he’d like and pressed play for him before tossing the remote on the couch and leaving.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he called out, making you stop in your tracks. “I’m sorry you don’t trust me, but I need you to know that I’d never hurt you.”
“O-Okay, Soldier Boy,” you said before you hurried out of the room, up the stairs, and back into your room. “Billy Butcher I am going to fucking strangle you,” you mumbled to yourself.
**
“You’re up before noon,” Butcher remarked, seeing Soldier Boy in the living room. “And you got the TV workin’ on your own! Atta boy, gov’.”
“Actually, Y/n set it up for me,” Soldier Boy said.
Butcher sighed at that, “So, you’ve talked to her today then, huh?”
“Yeah, why?” the Supe asked before Butcher left to see you.
He knocked lightly on your door before you opened it.
“Hello—” Butcher started but a swift slap to the face shut him up pretty quickly.
“Fuck you, Butcher!”
“Did he hurt you?” Butcher asked, holding his cheek.
“No, but he almost fucking did, asshole! How dare you leave me alone with him like that!”
“Oh come off it! If you’re still in one piece then all’s well that ends well, am I right?” he said with a smirk and a shrug.
“You ever do something like that again and I swear to god William!” You stared daggers at him.
“My ‘errand’ didn’t go as planned anyways, love,” he told you. “I’ve gotta figure out another way to find where they’re hiding Homelander.”
“Or whatever’s left of him,” you mumbled.
**
“Alright, I’m off,” Butcher announced, a full duffle bag in his hand as he headed to the door.
“What?” you exclaimed from the kitchen as you hurried to get between him and his destination. “What’re you talking about?”
“Everything okay?” Soldier Boy asked from the couch near the TV.
“Everything’s fine, gov’, you keep watching your movie,” Butcher said.
“Can I talk to you outside for a minute?” you asked Butcher, you didn’t want Soldier Boy to hear what you were about to say.
“After you then, love,” Butcher obliged.
The second the door closed behind the two of you, you let him have it.
“Don’t you fucking dare leave me here alone with him again, I cannot fucking take it!”
“It’ll only be for a little while, you’ll be fine!” Butcher said.
“Then let me come with you!”
“What, and leave the cunt here alone? He’ll burn the house down trying to make himself a fuckin’ sandwich,” Butcher exclaimed. “He needs a fuckin’ babysitter and that’s you.”
“Why me? Why can’t you call Hughie? Or Frenchie? Or, better than all of us combined, Kimiko?” you asked.
“Hughie’s outta state, Frenchie and Kimiko are both knee-deep in shit sussing out another lead on Homelander’s whereabouts.”
You sighed heavily, you saw his point but the thought of being trapped again made your stomach hurt; “Please don’t leave me alone with him, Butcher. You know how much he fucking terrifies me, and you know exactly why.”
“I’m sorry I gotta do this to you, love, but you know he’s our only shot at killin’ Homelander once and fucking for all.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Only a day or two.”
You again conceded, against your better judgment, and let Butcher leave you with Soldier Boy.
“What was that all about?” the Supe asked when you walked back into the house and locked the door.
You forced a smile; “Nothing, Soldier Boy,” you said, “dinner will be ready soon.”
You didn’t know Soldier Boy heard everything you and Butcher had said.
**
“Looks great, toots.” Soldier Boy walked up behind you in the kitchen, not missing the flinch you threw when he got a little too close.
“Thanks,” you mumbled.
“You still that scared of me?” he asked, leaning on the counter and trying to get you to look up at him.
“If you can hear my heart, I’m sure you’ve got something that can smell my fear too.”
“I know I make your heart race, your breathing becomes slightly quicker when I get close, and I’ve noticed your pupils tend to change when you notice I’m next to you.”
“So why is my fear such a fuckin’ surprise, then?” you scoffed.
“I guess I didn’t realize it was fear making your heart race and your pupils dilate slightly.”
“What, you thought I was into you or something?” you asked half-heartedly before you looked over at him and realized that was exactly what he had thought. “Oh.”
“So, yeah, I was surprised when I realized you didn’t like havin’ me around,” he admitted. You almost felt guilty for a moment but it quickly disappeared as you remembered why you were scared of him in the first place. “Can you at least tell me why, though?” he asked as you shoveled his food onto a plate. “Why are you so scared of me? I get that I’m stronger than you but, no offense, isn’t Butcher too? Isn’t like… almost every man out there?”
“One, I trust Butcher. I’ve known him for years and he’s been nothing but good; he’s an asshole, sure, but he’s good when it counts. And two, I don’t spend time alone with ‘almost every man out there’ so that does not help your case at all.” You handed him the plate. “Here’s your food.”
“Thanks, dollface.” He took it from you and you started getting your own plate ready. He watched your every move and his brows knitted with confusion as he did so.
“You can go sit down,” you told him. “You don’t need to watch me like a hawk.”
“I’m sorry, I’m just still tryin’ to figure you out I guess.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you scoffed.
“You know I’m a hero, right? I’m a superhero, and I would never hurt you?”
“Look, no offense, but the last time I trusted a Supe it really didn’t turn out well and I’m not gonna let myself give you even an inch of trust because you are even stronger than the last guy.”
“What happened? What’d he do?” Soldier Boy asked and you didn’t respond. “C’mon, you owe me that much! I’ve been nothing but good to you, yet you’re treating me like I did whatever this other Supe did to you!”
“I don’t owe you shit, Soldier Boy,” you snapped and you could’ve sworn you saw genuine hurt flash over his features. “If you must know, it was The Deep. I trusted him, let him be good to me, and it all blew up in my face in the most awful way I could’ve imagined.”
“I’m sorry, honey.” He reached out to touch your shoulder but you flinched away from him.
“Please, don’t touch me. I get that you’re trying to be sweet or whatever but please don’t. It’s not doing what you think it’s doing, Soldier Boy.”
He nodded and backed away slightly.
“My name’s Ben,” he told you. You looked at him with a sense of shock. “My real name’s Ben, you don’t have to say ‘Soldier Boy’ all the time, you can just say ‘Ben’.”
“Okay, Ben, while we’re on the topic of names, you could ease up on the ‘toot’s and ‘doll’s and ‘dollface’s and ‘honey’s and ‘sweetheart’s you know. Or at the very least stick to one pet name.”
He smiled at your honesty, hoping it was a sign you might be scared of him just a tad less.
“Think I’ll just stick to callin’ you sweetheart, then,” he replied.
“Thank god, I was really starting to hate dolls.”
That made him laugh deeply before he walked to the table and took his seat.
Don’t you fucking dare, you thought to yourself when you felt a feeling of almost-not-absolute-fear-and-disgust wash over you for a split second.
**
“Look, I’m sorry, but—”
“You’re sorry?” you scoffed into the phone. “Butcher get the fucking hell back here!”
“I can’t, I’ve gotta spend another night over here. Apparently—”
“I don’t give a rat's ass why you have to stay, I am begging you to please get back here now!” Tears were stinging your eyes as your voice cracked.
“I’m sorry—”
“If he does anything to me, anything at all, I’ll never fucking forgive you for leaving me alone with him, Butcher. You understand me, William? Never!”
“He’s not gonna hurt you,” Butcher sighed. “Just keep your distance and be nice to him. He does have a bit of a temper, maybe he just needs to relieve some tension…”
“That’s not funny!” You gritted your teeth as a few tears slipped down your cheeks. “When are you getting back here?”
“A few more days,” he replied.
Before he said another word you hung up on him, furious that he thought it was okay to leave you alone with Soldier Boy.
Though the Supe was in his own room upstairs, he still heard every word you said. He’d never admit it, but his heart clenched at the thought of how scared you were right now.
**
It had been over a week since you’d seen him when Butcher finally got back with some new information on Homelander’s location. He had a plan to find the exact coordinates and he wasn’t going to let his morals get in the way.
“Well, well, you clean up nice,” Butcher commented when you stepped out of the bathroom.
“Shut up,” you grumbled. You were wearing a short royal blue dress with a deep v-neckline and almost no back, the silver heels and necklace tied the otherwise seemingly plain outfit together nicely. “If this stupid plan of yours gets me killed I’m gonna come back and haunt you for the rest of your fuckin’ life.”
“Wow,” Ben beamed when he walked out of his room and saw you standing in the hall with Butcher. “You look incredible, sweetheart.”
“I look like a damn hooker,” you said.
“That’s the idea, love.” Butcher smirked.
**
A high-ranking Vought employee had been seen at a certain bar almost every night for the last two months and it was now your job to get him to trust you. If he trusted you enough, he would take you back to his place and you could find out any and all information he had on Homelander.
The plan seemed simple enough, yet Ben seemed more anxious about the situation than you were.
“Are you sure this is safe?” Soldier Boy asked when you were all seated in the van outside the bar.
“No, but if this helps us get Homelander then it’s safe enough,” you told him.
“Besides, you’ll be in there with her,” Butcher reminded him. “And if you stay focused on keeping her safe, then I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“How ‘bout we come up with a code word or something?” Ben suggested as he put in the earpiece Butcher handed him.
“How about ‘Soldier Boy’?” you said, Ben shook his head.
“And what happens if you need to say ‘Soldier Boy’ but you don’t need help?” he countered.
“How about…Ben?” You smiled a little when he nodded.
“I’ll be listening closely to the whole conversation, if you say ‘Ben’ I’ll come and get you outta there.”
“Sounds good.”
“Alright,” Butcher interrupted, “Soldier Boy keep me updated and if all goes well, Y/n, we won’t be seeing you again til later tonight.” He winked obnoxiously.
“If this guy genuinely tries to sleep with me I’ll break his fuckin’ nose,” you said flatly. “Info or no info, I ain’t letting him see me naked.”
**
Ben had gone in about a minute before you did and found a nice spot near where he knew you’d be sitting with the target. The second you walked in his eyes were glued. He stayed true to his word and listened to every word you and the target said.
“This seat taken, handsome?” you asked the man who then smirked at you.
“It is now,” he said. “And what’s your name, gorgeous?”
“Goldie,” you lied as you took your seat. “What’s yours?”
“Steven. Let me buy you a drink?” he offered and called the bartender over when you nodded.
“Vodka martini,” you ordered. “So Steven, what do you do for work?”
“I work for Vought,” he said and you faked an impressed look.
“No way!” you gasped. “Oh my god, do you know The Seven?”
“I do,” he said with a nod, clearly full of himself.
“That is so cool,” you continued stroking his ego. You nodded in thanks when the bartender handed you your drink and you took a sip. “I’ve never met someone so important!”
“You wanna know a secret?” he asked, you nodded enthusiastically. He leaned over so he could whisper into your ear; “I’m actually in The Deep’s close, personal circle.”
Your eyes went wide for a split second before you got a hold of yourself and whispered back; “Really?”
“Uh-huh,” he said. “I could introduce you if you’d like.” You pulled away from him slightly but still tried your best to keep yourself calm.
“Oh, that’s alright,” you shook your head, “I’m sure he’s too busy for little old me.”
“I’m never too busy.” The voice behind you made your whole body tense up and Ben could tell you were in trouble. You hadn’t said the code word though and he knew both you and Butcher would be mad if he screwed up the mission.
“Butcher,” Ben said into the intercom attached to his jacket, “Deep’s here.”
Butcher paused for a moment before he answered; “Don’t freak out. Y/n can handle herself and unless she says ‘Ben’ you don’t make a move, you understand Soldier Boy?”
“Understood,” he replied.
“You know,” The Deep said, still standing behind you, “I’ve had my eye on you since you walked in here, gorgeous.”
“Y-You have?” you asked, wondering if he recognized you or if your face just blurred together with all the other women he had assaulted. You took another sip of the drink in your hand and continued to keep a close eye on it to make sure it didn’t get spiked.
“I have,” he replied. “Now, why don’t you let my friend Steven here show you a nice time, then take you back to my place at Vought Tower?”
“S-Sounds good,” you trembled. “I-I’ll see you later tonight then, Deep.” You took another, smaller sip.
“Wonderful,” he said before he bent down and placed a kiss on your cheek. “Can’t wait to see this dress on my floor.” With that, he walked away and you let out a sigh of relief.
“Fish fucker’s left the building,” Ben told Butcher. “You gonna tail him or are we still focusing on Steven?”
“Stay focused on Steven, we can kill fish fucker another day,” Butcher said.
“So, you want another drink?” Steven asked you. “Or would you rather head over to the tower?”
“You know, I’d rather spend the night at your place, Steven.” You faked a sweet smile.
“Really?” He raised a brow as a smirk returned to his face. “So, another drink, then?”
“How about I just let you take me home?” The moment you stood up you knew something was wrong. You instantly felt dizzy and sat back down. “Ben, help,” you whispered when you realized exactly what was happening.
“Looks like we’re heading to the tower, Goldie,” Steven said. “Thanks as always, Pat.” He handed a couple hundreds to the bartender.
Ben came up behind Steven and pinned him against the bar with one hand, his other hand resting on the bar itself a few inches from where you were now slouched over.
“What the hell did you do to her, fuckface?” Ben seethed.
“I didn’t do anything! What’s your problem?” Steven yelled, drawing attention to the scene unfolding.
Ben took the back of the man’s head and brought it up half a foot before he slammed it back down onto the wood.
“Tell me what you fuckin’ did or I’ll squish you like a bug,” Ben yelled as he applied more and more pressure to Steven’s head.
“Roofie!” Steven yelled. “Ask the bartender!”
“Ben don’t kill him,” Butcher told him through the earpiece.
“He deserves to fuckin’ die, Butcher,” Ben replied.
“Yes he does but he still has information that we need. If you’ve gotta kill someone, kill the bartender who spiked the fuckin’ drink!”
Ben looked up from gravely injured Steven and saw the bartender cowering in the corner.
“Ben,” you whispered and reached out to touch the hand he still had on the counter. “Ben get me outta here.” His angered expression slowly faded as he looked down into your hooded eyes. “Please?”
“Yeah, I’ve got you,” Soldier Boy said before he quickly scooped you up in his arms and carefully kept your head resting on his shoulder. “Hey, barkeep,” he shouted and the man looked over at him. “Mark my words; no matter where you go or what you do I will find you and tear you limb from fucking limb for hurting her. Your days are fucking numbered.”
Ben hurried you out to the truck and sat you down on the seat next to his so you could lean on him if you wanted, or alternatively, you could lean against the window if you still didn’t want him touching you.
“Stay with her, I’m gonna go figure out how much they gave her and if we need to take her to the hospital,” Butcher told Soldier Boy before leaving.
“Ben,” you slurred, still barely able to open your eyes, “Ben what—what’d you do to me?”
“God fuckin’ damn it, Butcher,” he mumbled under his breath. He blamed Billy entirely for the operation going sideways and for you ending up in danger. “Fuck, you need to purge, sweetheart.” He positioned you so your head was hanging out the side door and stuck his fingers down your throat, ignoring your angered hits to his arms. “This is for your own good, stop fighting me.”
You hurled out the side door, Ben held onto you tightly and made sure you didn’t fall out or get hurt.
“Please just let me go,” you whispered when he took his fingers out, satisfied with the amount of possibly deadly alcohol you were able to get out of your system.
“I know you’re scared right now, but I can’t let you go,” he told you. “I’m sorry.”
Butcher got back to the car pretty quickly, a worried expression on his face.
“How much did they give her?” Ben asked.
“Too fuckin’ much,” Butcher replied. “We’ve gotta make her puke it all up or she might not make it.”
**
You woke up on the couch to the sound of Butcher and Ben arguing in the kitchen, a splitting headache quickly made itself known when you opened your eyes fully.
“This is your fault, Butcher,” Soldier Boy yelled, “you and your stupid obsession to find Homelander. How dare you put her life at risk like that!”
“Hey I had the strongest man alive in there backing her up, so how the hell did you screw up so badly?”
There was a pause as you kept listing, a part of you was scared you’d start to hear punches being thrown.
Ben shook his head as he looked at his ‘boss’; “You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that? She’s been scared outta her fuckin’ mind and yet you just keep on pushin’ her and pushin’ her. And for what? To kill a Supe that’s probably dead already? You know Homelander ain’t a threat since I fuckin’ burned him, yet you still put someone you say you care about in danger.”
“‘Scared outta her fuckin’ mind’?” Butcher scoffed. “What’re you on about?”
“I know she’s terrified of me,” Ben admitted. “I know that you know she is, too. And yet you keep leaving her alone with me, why? Just to make her life worse? To make her feel less safe than she already does?”
“You sayin’ she’s got a reason to be scared of you, then?” Butcher asked. “Thought you were supposed to be some kinda hero?”
“Of course I’d never hurt her! But I’m still a Supe and I know you hate Supe’s. There’s no way in hell you trust me at all or you wouldn’t have her babysitting me every time you leave the fuckin’ house. What I don’t get is why you’re so comfortable leaving her here with the strongest man in the world when you think I’m a fucking monster.” Ben walked over to the fridge and took a bottled water out before he grabbed a cup and left the kitchen.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said quietly as he entered the living room. “I know you’re up, do you want some water?”
“What happened?” you asked as he squatted on the floor in front of the couch and made eye contact with you.
“We can fill you in later, you should probably drink,” he said and held out the two items in his hands. “Would you rather the bottle or a cup?”
“Bottle’s fine,” you replied and you slowly sat up, putting a hand to your head before you took the water from him.
“You need some Aspirin or something?” he asked.
“I’m sure Butcher ‘ll bring me some,” you said, making Ben’s brows furrow a little before he nodded with realization.
“You still don’t trust me much, do you?”
“Sorry,” you mumbled before beginning to drink the water. “What am I wearing, by the way?” you asked and gestured to the dirty, large black tee you had on over the blue dress.
“Oh, uh,” he scratched the back of his neck nervously, “it was on the car floor, I think it’s Butcher’s. I put it on you when uh, when you were kinda out of it and… your boob might’ve kinda… popped outta your dress.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I didn't… like I didn’t look or anything, I just saw the shirt and immediately put it over you.”
“Sure.” You nodded before you continued downing the bottled water.
“I’ll go get Butcher to bring you some painkillers,” Ben said before leaving the room.
**
You’d just gotten out of the shower and put on a new set of clean clothes when Butcher stopped you in the hall.
“How’s your head?” he asked.
“Better,” you replied flatly, still pretty frustrated with him.
“I’m sorry I was such an idiot,” he sighed, “I shoulda told Soldier Boy to get you hell outta there the second the fish fucker showed his ugly mug.”
“We needed intel on Homelander,” you reminded him. “My safety was just the price we had to pay.”
“And that was a fucked up currency for me to gamble with,” he said. “I’m sorry I’ve been so obsessed and I’m sorry for leaving you alone with Soldier Boy so much the past couple of weeks.”
You shrugged a little; “It’s no big deal.”
“I want you to know I’m done tryin’ to find Homelander.”
“Seriously?” Your eyes went wide and you furrowed your brows.
“The cunt’s most likely down for the count anyway thanks to granny fucker downstairs and there are other Supes that are much bigger threats right now anyway. Like The Deep, for example, and the number of people he’s paying to help him get away with assaults like last night. I’ve been talking with Hughie and as it turns out, he’s already had his eye on a handful of other bartenders workin’ for fish dick.”
“So…what? You’re saying you’re gonna go back to your old job at Supe affairs and start hunting down these assholes in a more mentally-healthy way?” you asked.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
**
When you entered the living room you noticed Ben readjusting his position on the couch, as if to try and make himself appear less threatening.
“Hey,” you said quietly, a small smile on your lips as you sat down about two feet from him on the same couch.
“Hey,” he replied. “How’re you feeling?”
“Better.” You nodded. “You need help with the TV?” you asked, picking up the remote from where it sat on the coffee table in front of you.
“Yeah, thanks,” he replied. He watched you intently as you ‘worked your magic’ on the electronic contraption.
“I know I was completely at your mercy last night, Ben,” you said, focused on the TV and not looking over at him. “And I know you could’ve easily taken advantage of the fact I was out of it.”
“But I didn’t.”
“I know that, too.”
“But you still don’t trust me?”
“I want to,” you said. You reached out your left hand and gently placed it on his right one. He looked down at where your hands were touching and smiled softly. “I want to trust you, I just need time to get to know you.”
“You sayin’ you wanna get to know me?” he asked with a bit of a smirk before you nodded. The two of you stayed like that for a moment before Soldier Boy broke the silence; “So, where do we go from here?”
“How about we watch something together?” you suggested.
You had been awake for nearly ten minutes already but you couldn't bring yourself to move a muscle. It wasn't often Soldier Boy was completely relaxed and you didn't want to wake him up. His arm draped over your waist as you laid on his bare chest, light snores escaping his lips. So you stayed there, hoping to maybe fall back asleep, but it wasn't long before you realized you weren't even tired anymore. You were so focused on his breathing, his chest moving up and down, up and down.
You finally let yourself move just a little so you could look at his face. So relaxed, so at peace. You smiled as you stared, not knowing how much time had passed.
“Want me to stay like this a little longer? Or are you done staring?” He whispered, slowly opening one eye and being met with yours.
“Good morning,” You smiled. You sat up a little so you could kiss him.
“Good morning.”
You started to roll out of bed but he quickly pulled you back against his chest.
“Nuh, uh, uh!” He smirked. “Just cause I'm awake now, does not mean we're getting out of bed!”
“Butcher wanted us up by eight, Ben,” You reminded him.
“What time is it?” He asked, you looked at the clock. It read 7:54.
“Almost eight.”
“Key word; almost. Which means we don't have to get up yet! Besides, you think Butcher has any actual authority over me?”
“Maybe not you, but he is my boss.”
He ignored you and instead tightened his grip around your waist. He rolled over and hovered above you before he bent down and kissed you deeply.
“You really wanna get out of bed?” He teased.
“No,” You mumbled as he kissed you again. “I wanna stay with you.”
summary: ben hears something when he holds you close
pairing: soldier boy x female supe!reader
rating: R for language, sexual themes (?)
word count: 2.4k
warnings: pregnancy, language, spoilers for the office | mentions of/alludes to - vought torturing supe’s, sex, birth control, infertility issues and abortion
timeline: set in an au a few years after season three; this soldier boy has changed a lot personality wise, he’s a much better person then he was in season three.
author’s note: inspired by this clark kent fic by the lovely @burreaux-drys <3
another note: thinking of doing a part two because i really love how this turned out! let me know if you would like another part, cause i definitely left this fic very open ended :) there’s a part two now :)
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The smell of freshly cooked bacon slowly brought Ben out of his peaceful sleep as he rolled over to pull you closer to him. His eyes flew open when he realized you weren’t sleeping next to him, but he calmed down after a moment of assuring himself you’d never just walk out on this relationship. He put on his sweatpants from the day before and left your shared bedroom.
“Is that my t-shirt?” He smiled as he walked into the kitchen.
“I figured if I was making breakfast and bringing it to you, you wouldn’t need this shirt yet,” you replied, smirking. He walked up to you and gave you a quick kiss on the lips before taking a seat at the table a few feet behind you.
“Smells delicious sweetheart,” he yawned. “But isn’t it my turn to make us breakfast? You cooked dinner last night.”
“I woke up before you and couldn’t bring myself to wake you up.” You turned around and watched as he yawned again. “God, you’re exhausted!” You walked over to him and ran your fingers through his hair as he rested his forehead on your abdomen. “Did you not fall asleep when I did?”
“Shh!” he exclaimed suddenly. He put his hands on your waist as he turned his head and pressed his ear against you.
“Ben-”
“Shut your beautiful mouth for just two seconds.”
“Excuse me?” you asked, slightly insulted.
“Sorry,” he replied quickly as he turned his head to look at you. You were met with his trademark puppy-dog-pout that always made your heart melt. “Please shut your beautiful mouth?” You rolled your eyes a little but nodded nonetheless. You knew he meant well.
He put his ear back against your abdomen then straightened up and put his ear to your chest. He went back and forth between the two a couple times without saying anything.
“Okay,” you suddenly said, getting a little freaked out. “Seriously Ben, what the hell?”
“You’re pregnant.” He looked up at you again with a huge smile. “Baby you- you’re pregnant!”
“Uh, no I’m not? And that’s not funny Ben,” you scoffed as you backed away before turning to face the stove.
“I’m not kidding! I can hear our baby’s heartbeat!” he exclaimed as he stood up.
“That’s my heartbeat, Ben,” you replied flatly. “If it sounds weird it’s just because I’m a Supe.”
“Honey, I've listened to your heartbeat every night for almost three years now, I know what it sounds like. Just like I know that right now, there are two hearts beating inside you.”
“You’re adorable.” You shook your head. You reached to take a sip of your coffee but he stopped you.
“Wait…” He narrowed his eyes. “You can’t have caffeine when you’re pregnant.”
“And where the hell did you learn that?” You raised a brow. There was no way this man had read a pregnancy book ever in his life, and you doubted he learned that in school a hundred years ago.
“When Pam was pregnant on The Office, Angela said she shouldn’t even drink out of a cup that used to have regular coffee,” he replied, a smile returning to his face.
“God I love how much you love that show.” You smiled. “But I’m not pregnant, Ben and I’m really tired. Can you please let me drink my coffee?”
He shook his head, “Sorry, you’re carrying my child now. Our child. No caffeine for you, honey.”
“You’re lucky I love you,” you grumbled, flipping the pancakes you’d been working on.
“I’ll finish breakfast, you sit down,” he said. He gently pulled you away from the stove before you sat down.
“Ben, this is ridiculous! I can still cook!” He ignored your protests by continuing your work in the kitchen.
The pancakes and bacon were soon finished and Ben put some on a plate for you before doing the same for himself and taking a seat at the table with you. You focused on your food as you tried to ignore Ben just staring at you. Chin resting on his knuckles, a huge smile plastered on his face, as green eyes watched your every move.
“Ben,” you sighed before looking at him. “I’m not pregnant! Would you stop acting like I’m some miracle and just eat your damn food?”
“But this is a miracle!” he protested. “I don’t think you realize how huge this is!”
“Alright, that’s it! After we eat, we’re going to the store and buying a pregnancy test. We need to run some errands anyway, we’re nearly out of food. Not to mention we’re down to next to nothing for alcohol, which is absolutely unacceptable.”
Ben knitted his brows for a moment, as if in thought, before saying, “You can’t have alcohol while you're pregnant either, right?” You jutted your jaw out in annoyance and looked at him. “Also Office; Jim and Pam’s wedding.”
**
You really should’ve opted to go to the store alone, not that Ben would’ve happily agreed, but anything was better than this. He’d been “protecting” you from quite literally everything and it was starting to drive you nuts. He wouldn’t let you drive, he insisted on pushing the cart, and when you went to reach for something that was even slightly above eye level he pulled your hand away and got it for you.
“You shouldn’t be walking down this aisle, sweetheart!” he exclaimed when you turned to enter your favorite section of Walmart. “Does this smell really not affect the baby?”
“Ben, I can be near alcohol without putting ‘the baby’ in any sort of danger,” you replied, using air quotes because you still didn’t believe you were pregnant.
He pulled you to a stop before you could actually enter the aisle. He looked into your eyes with his concern filled ones and kept his gentle grip on your upper arm.
“Promise me right now that this aisle will have no effect on the baby if you are pregnant,” he said.
“Ben, why the hell would closed liquor bottles have any effect on me or the baby?”
“The very intense smell?” he replied.
“Oh, your Supe smell! That makes more sense. Yeah, I can’t smell the alcohol unless it’s actually open, Ben. If I am pregnant, our baby won’t be affected.”
He nodded as he let go before you walked down the aisle, picking out a few drinks you liked and a few Ben liked. He followed you around the store pushing the cart, lightly scolding you every time you reached above your head or for something that looked slightly heavy.
“Oh you two are an adorable couple!” An elderly woman exclaimed, seeing Ben reaching to grab something for you.
“Thank you!” You smiled sweetly.
“How long have you two been together?” she asked. “You remind me so much of my granddaughter and her husband!”
“We’ve been dating for a little over two years now,” you replied. “How old is your granddaughter?”
“She’s pregnant!” Ben informed the woman, who then smiled widely. Before she could congratulate the two of you, Ben exclaimed; “We weren’t even trying or anything, but I got her pregnant! My super sperm just whoosh! Right through the birth control!” Your eyes widened.
“Oh god! I’m sorry!” you called out as the woman hurried away seeming horrified.
You turned to Ben, a shit-eating smile on his face. He was practically glowing with pride.
“What?” he asked, noticing your very unamused look.
“One, why did you feel the need to traumatize that poor lady? And two, I am not pregnant!”
“One, sex is a part of life, she’s not traumatized. And two, stop saying that! How can you be so positive that you aren’t pregnant?”
“Because there’s just no way Ben,” you sighed. He stayed looking at you, a confused look washing over his features. “After all the experiments with Vought, there’s just no way I can be pregnant, Ben.” His smile faded as a sad one found it’s way to you. “I’m sorry.”
“Well…maybe I really do have super sperm?” he suggested, slightly smiling again.
“Ben I’m being serious.” You shook your head a little. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Okay, I won’t,” he lied. He bent down and kissed you sweetly. “Let’s go get you that pregnancy test though, because if you really aren’t pregnant then I’m afraid you might have two hearts.”
“I love you,” you laughed a little.
“I love you too,” he replied.
When you reached the pregnancy test section, unfortunately the most trusted brand was ‘too high up on the shelf’ so, of course, Ben grabbed it.
“Uh, could you grab two?” you asked after he tossed one into the cart. Ben furrowed his brows a little. “These tests aren’t always accurate, if we want to be sure we should get two.”
“Wait, these tests aren’t accurate?”
“Not always,” You shrugged a little.
“Then we need way more than two!” he exclaimed. He proceeded to grab about ten-or-so more, tossing them all into the cart.
“Yeah that’s a little overkill,” you laughed. “We need three at most.”
“We’re both Supes, we need as many positive pregnancy tests as possible!”
“Okay, well now this cart makes us look like we’re boycotting Trojan. Besides, I can't pee ten times today!”
“You can take some today, some tomorrow; just drink lots of water!”
“Or we could just do the normal thing and I could see a doctor?”
“Hun…you know we can’t,” Ben sighed. He walked around the cart so he could hold you, putting his hands on your waist and pulling you to lean on his chest. He rested his head on yours as he continued very quietly, “If you are pregnant you…you’re a Supe pregnant with another Supe’s baby, that’s not something they’ll just let slide. Who knows what those monsters might do if they find out.”
“Right,” you breathed. “Fine, I’ll take a ridiculous amount of pregnancy tests.”
“Thank you!” He grinned.
**
“Alright,” you said as you held up the first unused pregnancy test, about to head into the bathroom, “here goes nothing.”
“Honey, wait.” Ben stopped you. “Do…Do you want to be pregnant?”
“Yeah.” You shrugged a little. You weren’t sure, really. You’d always assumed you couldn’t have kids so you hadn’t given it much thought.
“You don’t have to take the test,” he said, brows knitted with concern. “We- We can just pretend I never heard the heartbeat and maybe it’ll just…go away.”
“Ben-”
“I want to have kids with you. I really, really fucking do! But I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything! If you don’t want this baby, just…just say the word.”
“Ben, I want kids with you too.” You smiled, taking his hand in your empty one. “I really do! There’s just no way anything down there is working like it should! I mean if Vought didn’t fuck me up, being exposed to your radiation for so long definitely did.”
“Oh,” he mumbled, his expression growing even more sad. “But…I’m clean now, I- I mean the radiation’s all gone?”
“I know, and I’m not blaming you for one second Ben, it’s all Vought,” you replied quickly. “However, if by some miracle I am pregnant I’ll be fucking thrilled! I just don’t want you to be disappointed; you seem really excited about this and I’m worried about what’s gonna happen when I walk back out and this test is negative.”
“If it turns out you really aren’t pregnant, nothing’s gonna change between us! I mean, I’ll definitely get my hearing checked out and maybe you should get your heart looked at, but after that we’ll go back to bacon, burgers, and booze!”
You let out a laugh. God, you loved the man standing in front of you.
“Okay.” You smiled.
“I love you,” he said before kissing you. “Now get in there and pee!”
“I love you!” you exclaimed before walking into the bathroom.
**
Three hours and five pregnancy tests later (yes, definitely overkill, but you both wanted to be sure), you stood with Ben in the bathroom and stared at the results sitting on the counter. One negative, four positives. And yet, there was still a part of you that wouldn’t let yourself believe it was true.
You heard Ben laughing a little so you looked at him through the mirror.
“Oh my god!” he exclaimed. “You’re pregnant!” You smiled as you watched tears of joy begin to fall down his face. “You- Fuck! We’re gonna have a baby!?” He took your face in his hands and kissed you before quite literally falling to his knees.
“Ben?” you asked, a little concerned.
“I love you so fucking much!” he looked up at you. He sat up and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your abdomen against his face. “Hello little guy!” He mumbled against you.
“Or girl!” you corrected. “Or non-binary person!”
“I was using ‘guy’ as an umbrella term,” he replied, not moving, your heart swelling with pride. “That’s why I didn’t say ‘boy’.”
“I love you,” you laughed a little.
“Hear that little one? Your mommy loves me!” He still spoke to your stomach.
You couldn’t help the tears streaming down your face at this point, you were so happy to see him this excited. You felt the fear you had about this pregnancy, albeit temporarily, wash away and be replaced with pure joy.
**
Ben was staring at the computer getting more and more frustrated with himself with each passing second.
“God-fuckin’-damnit!” he mumbled, putting his face in his hands.
“Ben? What’s wrong?”
“I thought you were asleep?” He looked up at you, suddenly very worried. “Are you okay? Is it something with the baby?” You let out a soft laugh as you placed a kiss on the crown of his head.
“I’m fine Ben,” you mumbled into his hair. “Why’re you still up? I thought you were coming to bed after your shower?”
“Well, while I was in the shower I realized I know absolutely nothing about how to take care of you or a baby so I figured I should order some books but I can’t navigate this fucking website!”
“Can I help?” you asked, taking a seat on his lap after he nodded. “What books were you thinking? Any specific ones? Or just pregnancy books in general?”
“Just books in general,” he replied. He snaked his arms around you, gently securing your back against his chest.
“You know…I really should see a doctor soon to be sure our baby’s okay,” you said as you searched through Amazon’s selection of books.
“I know,” he sighed. “Is it alright if I ask Hughie to find a trustworthy doctor that won’t rat us out?”
