Hello, I have a request! 🫡😄
Could you do Soldier Boy x reader, where they were lovers before he got abducted by the Russians and when he wakes up he thinks the reader is dead, but they are locked up in the Vought Tower all this time and he finds them and it’s a tearful reunion? Thank you very much!!! 🫶🫶🫶
hii thank you for the request, i love this idea!! sorry for the late response btw </3
lower case intended
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the first thing he remembers is the cold. worse than the kind that settles into your skin during winter. it’s the kind that burrowed into bone and stayed there for years. then came the noise: alarms, gunfire, shouting. then freedom.
everything after that was blurred together in fragments: bloodied hallways, unfamiliar cities, faces he didn’t recognise, decades gone in the span of a heartbeat. the world had moved on without him.
and you. you were gone too. at least, that’s what he thought, as the last time he saw you was nicaragua. smoke in the air, chaos everywhere. you screaming his name while men drag him away.
then nothing.
for years, decades, he held onto that image until it too started to rot away at the edges.
dead.
you had to be.
vought wouldn’t have let you stay around after he disappeared, not when you knew too much. not when you’d been too close to him.
so he buried it. buried you. that was easier, or it was supposed to be.
the tower smelled the same. clean, sterile and expensive. it made his skin crawl. soldier boy stalked through the halls of vought with a simmering kind of rage sitting just under him ribs. every employee who passed him froze. some looked terrified, others looked fascinated. he ignored them all. he was here for answers, nothing else.
a trembling assistant had mentioned a restricted lower level while trying very hard to not look him in the eye. said it had existed for years and even high-ranking employees weren’t allowed down there. that was enough for him.
he stood in front of a steel security door deep beneath the tower, jaw tight. the keypad blinked red.
“cute,” he muttered. one hit from his shield caved the entire thing inward.
the lower level was quiet. too quiet. rows of dim overhead lights flickered weakly as he walked through the corridor. observation windows lined the walls, most of the rooms behind them empty. cells.
his stomach twisted.
the memories came back ugly and fast, metal restraints digging into his wrists, russian voices, electricity burning through him until he couldn’t think straight. his breathing sharpened.
then a sound. barely there, a cough.
soldier boy froze.
it came from the last room at the end of the hall.
at first, he only saw the back of a chair. then the thin outline of someone sitting in it. his chest tightened painfully. he moved closer slowly, suddenly unable to breathe right. the person in the chair shifted at the sound of his footsteps. weakly, like it took effort.
and you turned your head and everything stopped.
you looked older, of course you did. but not old, just worn.
there were shadows beneath your eyes. your hair was longer than he remembered, face thinner, exhaustion carved into every inch of you. hospital bracelets circled your wrist like chains.
but despite everything, it was you. alive.
his entire body went rigid. for a second, he genuinely thought he might be hallucinating.
“...no,” he breathed.
your eyes widened slowly, like you couldn’t believe it either. the silence stretched between you heavy. Then your lips parted.
“ben?”
the sound of your voice almost destroyed him.
he crossed the room in seconds. the chair scraped harshly against the floor as you stood too quickly, stumbling from weakness more than shock. he caught you before you could fall. the second his hand touched you, reality hit all at once. warm and real.
“oh my god,” you whispered, your voice breaking halfway through it.
ben stared at you like he didn’t know where to look first. his hands gripped your arms almost too tightly, eyes frantic as they searched your face.
“you’re alive,” he said roughly. not a question. a stunned realisation.
you let out a shaky laugh that immediately turned into a sob. and that shattered whatever composure he had left.
he pulled you closer against him hard enough to nearly knock the breath from you. for a man who carried himself like he was untouchable, he held you like someone terrified you’d disappear if he loosened his grip. his breathing was uneven against your hair.
“you were dead,” he muttered hoarsely, “they told me… you were… i thought-”
“i know,” you whispered. your hands fisted tightly into the back of his jacket like you physically couldn’t let go.
“they kept me here,” you choked out. “after nicaragua… they said you died. they wouldn’t let me leave.”
his entire body went still. then tense. dangerously tense. you felt it immediately: the rage crawling beneath his skin.
“those fucking-”
“ben.”
your voice cracked softly through the anger. and just like that, his attention snapped back to you.
for a long moment, neither of you spoke. you just held onto each other in the middle of that cold room like the years between you hadn’t existed. like maybe if you stayed close enough, neither of you would wake up from this.
you pulled back first, only enough to look at him properly. he looked older too. there was something haunted behind his eyes now that hadn’t been there before, something tired. but underneath all of it, he was still him. your ben.
his hand came up slowly, almost hesitant, brushing against your cheek like he needed to make sure you were real.
“you’re really here,” he murmured.
tears slipped down your face before you could stop them. “yeah.”
his thumb brushed them away immediately, rough but careful. his own expression cracked. just slightly. enough for you to see the grief underneath it all.
“you have any idea what they took from us?” he asked quietly.
the anger was still there, but the hurt underneath it was worse.
you reached up, resting your hand on his.
“they didn’t take everything.”
something in his face shifted, softened, just a little. he let out a slow breath, forehead dropping against yours. for the first time since waking up in this unfamiliar future, since the russians, since losing everything, ben finally felt something other than rage. you were alive and you were here. after thirty years of believing he’d lost you forever, he held you like he never planned to let go again.
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