hiii 💕 may i request Soldier Boy x (fem) reader? like she's really insecure about her appearance, being a bit chubby but without the "curvy" stereotype and she can't help but compare herself to Crimson Countess and can't believe that a man like him would even turn to look at her.
pd. Congratulations on getting engaged! ♡
|| Waiting For A Girl Like You||
Pairings: Soldier Boy x Chubby! Reader
Warnings: None, except some adult language, and sexual themes.
More under the line!
PS: Not engaged anymore...long story short...not the person for me. Anyway, enjoy this after two years lol.
You didn’t wear red.
Not because you didn’t like it—hell, you loved it. It was bold, confident, striking. But it reminded you too much of her. Crimson Countess. With that hourglass silhouette, those legs for miles, that cleavage like a goddamn billboard. She was the kind of woman comic books were built around, a living pin-up.
You? You couldn’t even look in the mirror without that tightness in your chest. The softness of your arms, the slight roll of your belly when you sat down, the way jeans always cut into your waist even if they fit in the legs—it all just felt wrong. Like you were the before photo in an ad that had never aired.
And yet… somehow, Soldier Boy looked at you.
Sometimes.
And God, did that make it worse.
It started with glances.
Quick, casual, meaningless. You’d tell yourself that. Had to. Because the second you believed they meant anything more, your mind would immediately summon her. What he used to have. What he wanted back.
What you could never be.
He’d crash on your couch when he wasn’t laying low in some safe house, mumble about how the others were all assholes, flick his Zippo and pretend not to notice the way your voice dipped when you answered his questions. You tried to hide it—your affection. Your awe. Your hunger.
It was embarrassing. You knew better. He was Soldier Boy.
And you? You were just… the chubby girl who blended into the crowd. Not curvy in the glamorized way. Just soft. Plain. The one who made herself small in pictures and avoided full-body mirrors.
But tonight, something shifted.
He was drunk. Or high. Or both. Slouched on your couch, boots kicked off, green eyes fixed on the TV but unfocused. His flannel hung open over a stained white tee, his dog tags glinting dully against his chest. You padded into the living room barefoot, arms crossed over your oversized shirt.
“You ever heard of pants?” he drawled, voice rough like sandpaper dipped in honey.
You flinched. Then looked down. Just a long tee and bare thighs. Chubby ones.
“I’m at home,” you muttered, tugging the hem down. “Didn’t know I needed to dress up for company.”
He turned his head toward you. Really looked at you.
And it was a problem.
His gaze lingered on your legs, then back up to your face—lazy, appraising. But not cruel. Not mocking. It made you burn.
“I like it,” he said. Simple. Grunted it out like a truth too obvious to need repeating.
You blinked.
“Don’t mess with me,” you whispered, almost too soft to hear.
His brow furrowed. “I’m not.”
You stared at him.
“You don’t have to pretend,” you said, heart thudding. “I’m not Crimson Countess. I know what I look like.”
His expression darkened. He sat forward, arms on his knees, cigarette ash dusting the carpet.
“Don’t say that name around me.”
You flinched again, but this time from his tone. Like it hurt him. Like it stabbed.
“She was... the perfect kind of beautiful,” you mumbled anyway. “Not like me. You know that.”
There was a silence that felt like walking a tightrope in a storm. Then:
“The hell I do.”
You looked at him, startled.
Soldier Boy stood, slow and deliberate, towering over you now. That flannel, that stubble, that barely restrained violence. You took a step back instinctively.
“I knew a woman who wore red like it was war paint,” he said, eyes cold. “Who kissed like a lie and smiled like a blade. Who turned on me the second I wasn’t useful anymore.”
His voice dropped, rough with memory.
“She was never soft with me. Not once.”
You swallowed. Your hands trembled.
“I’m not useful,” you murmured, meaning I’m not pretty. “I’m not—why would someone like you even look at someone like me?”
He stared at you for a long, weighted moment.
Then he closed the space.
“Because you’re real,” he said, biting off each word. “Because you don’t flinch when I lose it. Because you make eggs without acting like I’m a fucking monster. Because your laugh sounds like something I didn’t think existed anymore.”
His voice cracked. Just a little.
“And yeah, because you’re pretty. You’re fucking gorgeous. And if you ever say otherwise again, I swear to God—”
Your breath hitched.
“Say it again,” you whispered.
He blinked. “What?”
“That I’m pretty.”
It came out small. Desperate.
His face softened. Just barely. The tension bled from his shoulders, and he touched your cheek like he didn’t trust his hand not to ruin you.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, like it hurt to admit. Like he didn’t know how to say it right. “Not in some picture-perfect, pin-up bullshit way. In a way that makes me feel like maybe I’m not dead inside.”
You made a small, broken sound.
His thumb traced your cheekbone. Rough fingertip, tender pressure.
“I don’t know what the hell this is,” he muttered. “But when I’m with you, I don’t wanna blow shit up. I just… wanna stay. Eat breakfast. Watch dumb TV.”
You couldn’t help the tears that welled. You hated that. But his hand cupped the back of your neck and pulled you in.
“I see you,” he said, voice low. “Every inch. Every curve. Every soft part you hate. I see it. And I want it all.”
You melted.
And when he kissed you—gruff and clumsy and starved—it didn’t feel like a fantasy. It felt real. Heavy with scars, trembling with need.
You weren’t Crimson Countess.
You were something he had chosen.
And for the first time in a long, long time, you let yourself believe it.
I saw you were asking for requests so... Can you do a Dean/reader where the reader has a boyfriend, Dean has feelings but let's her be happy, then her bf uses her and leads her on. Dean comes to her aide makes her feel loved confesses his feelings fluffy and smutty?
|| ceilings and plaster ||
Pairings: Dean x Reader
Description: Dean knows you have a boyfriend, and yet finds himself wanting you more than ever. When he sees that your significant other is just using you and above all not being faithful, he takes it upon himself to take care of it.
Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and adult themes, language and sexual content. MINORS DNI.
You have been warned. Story continues underneath the line.
Play this song while you listen...and cry really hard...
ceilings, plaster
Your boyfriend, a man by the name of Thomas Devin Monroe, continued to hammer nails into the roof of your house as Dean, your best and closest friend helped him. You knew Dean Winchester to be a fairly hard working man, who definitely knew how to get the job done. So when your boyfriend Thomas needed help, you were so quick to call up Dean who knew a thing or two about construction and fixing things.
The only problem was--was that you could tell that Dean hated your boyfriend. Reasons that were unbeknownst to you entirely.
"Ah, fuck you man!" You heard Thomas holler as you raced outside to see what was the matter.
When you looked up you saw your boyfriend holding his thumb as Dean held the hammer and looked smug as ever.
"Hey...I told you not to put your hand there when I have the hammer and nails." Dean replied. Thomas grumbled a "fuck you" before climbing down the latter.
You calmly walked up to Thomas.
"Let me take a look at it-"
"No. You can tell your fucking asshole of a friend to leave. I already told you I didn't need help with the roof." He hissed brushing past you and into the house.
can't you just make it move faster
You looked up at Dean with your hands on your hips.
"Did you really have to go and do that?" You called up to him. Dean turned his head and craned his neck to look down at you.
"I warned him Y/N." He said. "I really did."
You shook your head with a smile, before you could hear your boyfriend calling you from inside the house.
"I think its best if you go Dean, we can pick this up more tomorrow." Dean sighed and nodded, packing up his toolbox and sliding down the ladder with finesse. He towered over you, with his usual look. His freckles were noticeably more prominent today, and besides smelling like his usual scent of blood, and smoked wood, he smelled much like whiskey and sandalwood. A scent that you favored a lot.
lovely to be sitting here with you
You were mid thought when Dean hugged you goodbye. It was initially quite amusing to see the large man having to bend down to catch you in a tight embrace.
"See you tomorrow Dean." You murmured.
"Mhm." He replied. "You too."
You're kinda cute but it's raining, harder.
A few weeks went by as Dean was on a hunt with his brother and hadn't been around lately, much like your boyfriend who was mostly not around now.
My shoes are now full of water
Thomas wasn't answering his phone when he was supposed to be picking you up from work. So instinctively you asked Dean for a ride. You were soaked head to toe while you shivered typing in Dean's number. The phone rang a couple times before he answered.
"Hey!" You beamed, your teeth chattering.
"Are you outside?" He asks outright. You answered with how you were just waiting on Thomas to come pick you up from work, and that it was just cold.
"Oh...do you need anything?" You were about to answer Dean when Thomas called.
"One second, Thomas is calling." So as you hung up the phone to answer.
"Hell-" You never got to finish your sentence when Thomas spoke.
"I think we should break up..." You froze, not really understanding at first.
"It's not working out, Y/N. I just can't be with someone like you..." He continued. "You should probably find someone else to come pick you up from work, because I am a little busy at the moment." Thomas said that last part as a half-moan and chuckle. Which was how you also came to the realization that he was currently cheating on you with someone else.
The rain poured on while you chose to hang up the phone on Thomas. Overwhelmed you sat down on the sidewalk, getting drenched to the bone. You cried hard into the wet sleeves of your coat. wiping rain water from your eyes, calling Dean back, the phone rang before going to voicemail.
You tried Sam's phone, answering on the first ring.
"What's up Y/N?" He asked, a little concerned by the tone of your voice.
"Is Dean there with you?" Sam hummed.
"No, actually, he said he was going somewhere, are you sure you're okay?" You lied and told Sam that you were okay before ending the call.
You sighed tossing your phone into your pocket and hiding your face into your hands while the rain continued to drench you. You needed a moment to take all of this in. The state of your relationship was in shambles, the weight of how overwhelmed you were hung heavy on your heart.
Before long, you heard the revving of an engine and the sound of the door shutting.
Lovely to be rained on with you
"Y/N..." You glanced up at the sound of your name. Dean's worried face came into view while you buried your face into his chest. Everything came onto you all at once.
But it's
So short and you're driving me home
Dean had gotten you comfortable in his car, driving you home. Your head leaned against the window looking out, as beads of rain water dripped from both the window outside and from you onto his seat and floor mats.
"I'm sorry, Dean... I'm ruining your seat." You cried.
He reached out to grip your thigh with his hand.
"I don't mind." He said softly. "I'm happy that you're safe." He added.
And I don't want to leave
But I have to go
You slip silently out of his car as he comes around to help you out. His warmth that emitted from him made you shiver again, looking up at him.
You kiss me in your car
His eyes eyed your lips before looking up into your eyes. You looked away before he leaned down, capturing your lips in his. You close your eyes, arms reaching to wrap around his neck as he pulled you up into his arms. You pull away...
"Dean..."
"Y/N..." He answered. "Was it too much?"
You shook your head and pulled him back in for more.
Bedsheets, no clothes
Touch me like nobody else does
Feeling Dean Winchester in between your legs was something you never even imagined, yet here he was, your best friend, making you unravel and cum onto his relentless, empowering thrusts. He had one hand on your headboard, gripping it like a vice, the other hand caging you in as he fucked you. Your nails dug into his scarred back while he hissed.
He then moved to kiss you once more, then to kissing your forehead. His hands intertwined with yours as you felt his cock twitch inside you. Dean looked spent as he tiredly thrusted more and more into you, moaning "I love you's" to you. Something you hadn't heard much lately.
"Dean..." You cried out again, reaching your climax. "Dean!" As you came, crashing down, feeling your arousal dripping lewdly. Dean was next to reach his own. You felt him give another thrust before releasing into you. Holding you tightly against him, he stared into your eyes as he did so, giving another soft kiss, another one after that, then another "I love you."
You felt hot tears come flooding before the two of you laughed as he hugged you tightly to him.
Lovely to just lay here with you...
"I've waited so long for you, Y/N...." You heard his mutter, his fingertips brushing your bare hip. Turning to nuzzle his neck with your nose, you pressed a kiss to his throat.
Are you taking requests? If you are, could you do one where Soldier Boy meets pregnant Fem Supe Reader when he joins the Boys and he becomes protective of her?
|| Call Me Daddy? ||
Happy Valentine's Day!
Pairings: Soldier Boy x Pregnant! Reader
Warnings: You know....the usual
Seriously?
Soldier Boy could not believe what he was seeing right now. Besides hanging out with the fruity gaylord Hughie and the wolverine wannabe, he could not take his eyes off of your swollen belly.
Are these guys fucking serious?
"I-I can handle trying not to get my dick sucked by the fairy over here, but you guys having a fucking pregnant broad? No way." He said trying to figure out his next move.
Your eyes twitched as you turned and grabbed the collar of his suit, lifting him off the ground.
"Wanna repeat yourself, stars and stripes?" you hissed, looking up at him in your grip. Soldier boy was astonished by the mere strength you had that almost equaled his...maybe it did.
"Hey, it was only an observation...you know...you being about two months away from popping and all." You gritted your teeth as you dropped him back to his feet.
This man was an asshole and you squinted your eyes at his tall frame...his chiseled jaw...his...his....
Oh fuck.
You turned away and ignored him for the rest of his time here.
You saw how long that lasted though...
Ben Gilman was the bane of your existence now. As soon as he got comfortable on the team he was more doting on you than any man you had ever met in your life. Including the now ex- husband and father to your unborn child. Seemingly over the course of this newly found...whatever, Ben was more like a father to this baby than that prick before.
Soldier Boy stood over the railing of the balcony at your safe house where the others were downstairs raiding your booze and having a little party. You, not being able to sleep were standing right next to him, your head leaning on his shoulder, eyes nodding off every chance you had standing in his presence.
"You know, Y/N...out of all these fuckers here, you are the last person who fucking gets on my nerves..." He spoke as you stared up at him with a hint of adoration in your eyes.
"Really...out of all the mood swings, cravings, and cramps...you really believe I never got on your nerves?" You laughed half-heartedly.
"Yeah..."He replied...
"Yeah....." You repeated.
Ben towered over you as he turned in your direction, the moonlight shedding this glow over you both. He smiled down at you, placing both of his hands, rough and calloused on your smooth shoulders. Longing to close the gap between you, you hovered on your tippy toes as he bent down to almost steal a kiss from you.
Almost that is.
You felt the wet liquid break over your legs and splash onto the floor. Ben stumbled a bit backwards before looking at you again.
"Uh...Ben.." You shockingly looked back up at him with a terrified and nervous smile.
He looked back at you with the same look.
"I'll grab the car keys." He responded, racing out the bedroom door.
Could I request a Soldier Box x reader story where Ben likes reader who is part of the Boys and it's basically his entire mood changes when she's around. Like he could be annoyed or an ass when she's out of the room but when she walks in he's all smiles and sweet to her.
Sweet Girl
Description: You are the apple of Soldier Boy's eye, and it is very obvious to everyone. Everyone except you.
Pairings: Soldier Boy x Reader
Warnings: Soldier Boy is his own warning, language , cute fluffy goodness that I would eat off a spoon.
Note: Man, these requests make me feral for a husband. Thank you.
"Oi, Soldier Boy. Where the fuck have you been? You've been MIA since this morning. Not planning anything are ya'?" Butcher quips, snatching one of the donuts from the box in front of him.
"None of your fucking business, sport." Soldier Boy hissed.
"What's got your panties in a twist?" Hughie called from the kitchen as he poked his head from around the corner.
Soldier Boy growled. "Again none of your fucking business. Christ on a cross, nibshits."
Your footsteps were descending down the steps as you had heard the commotion from upstairs. Although, it wasn't likely they'd break anything in your house. You just wanted to make sure just in case. You hopped down from the steps, entering the living room where everyone had been sitting.
"We have a right to know where you run off to. Don't want you jeporadizing the mission, fuckhead." MM hollered from across the room.
"I'm not going to fucking-" Soldier stopped mid-sentence and piped down when he caught your eye.
"Everything okay in here guys?" you asked.
"Yeah, just pestering ole' Soldier Boy here." William Butcher gave you a small smirk.
You crossed your arms, tilting your head.
"They are all playing around, Princess. Don't worry I'm fine." Soldier Boy added, his eyes lighting up when he heard you laugh.
"Alright, but don't break anything." Turning away you started for the kitchen.
"Wouldn't dream of it sweetheart." Soldier Boy gives another smile.
As much as you don't believe them, you drew closer to where Soldier Boy had made room for you to sit next to him. His breath hitched, and both Butcher and Hughie noticed the supe in front of them tense up slightly.
Soldier Boy draped an arm over the couch, trying to be subtle. His eyes never left your presence, and the smiles from cheek to cheek were contagious as Hughie and Butcher tried so hard not to bust out laughing.
It was then when your phone rang.
"I will be right back. I have to take this call." You hurried out of the room.
Soldier Boy's smile fell.
"Don't say a fucking word." He gritted his teeth, a long finger pointing at them.
Description: After the situation in the basement between you and Demon! Dean. You could hear his screams to be saved and he could hear your most painful cries. Both yearning to escape the pit of loneliness that gripped you two tight.
Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader ft. Castiel
Warnings: Language, Sad Themes
Thank you all for your constant support! And finally after like two years, this series is finally finished.
The walls of the safe house trembled.
At first, it was barely noticeable—an electrical hum beneath the silence. A flicker in the lights overhead, the faintest scent of sulfur snaking through the air. Then a muffled thud echoed from the basement, and the light over the kitchen table buzzed once before stabilizing.
Y/N looked up from her journal, fingers frozen mid-sentence. Her stomach dropped.
The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful.
It was oppressive. Final.
She rose slowly, every instinct screaming. She wasn't naive. She knew what that silence meant. She had heard Dean scream from the basement for weeks now—anger, pain, hatred—and she’d started to recognize the rhythm of it. The moments of silence between his roars were predictable.
This was different.
Too still.
Her gaze shot to the basement door across the room. It stood ajar.
No. No.
She hadn’t left it open. She was sure she hadn’t.
“Dean,” she whispered, though the sound barely escaped her lips. She reached for the angel blade on the nearby table with trembling fingers.
Then she heard it.
Footsteps.
Measured. Slow. No dragging of chains. No slamming of fists against walls. Not the furious pacing of a man trying to burn off madness—but the cold, calculated footsteps of someone who had made a decision.
He was coming up.
He was free.
Panic surged in her chest, thick and suffocating. Her heart thundered in her ears. Castiel was gone—he had left earlier to restock supplies and seek new chains reinforced with grace. There was no backup. No safety net.
Only her.
And him.
She backed away from the staircase, holding the blade in front of her with both hands. Her grip was weak. She didn’t want to use it. Didn’t want to believe she might have to.
Then he appeared.
Dean Winchester—or what was left of him—stood at the top of the stairs, shirt drenched in sweat and blood, wrists still shackled, chains dragging behind him like ghosts. His skin was pale, jaw clenched, shoulders broad as ever. His once-green eyes were obsidian voids now—black, unblinking, unreadable.
But his expression…
It wasn’t rage.
It was sorrow.
“Y/N,” he said.
Her name on his lips shattered her.
“Don’t,” she warned, holding the blade out between them. “Don’t come any closer.”
He stopped. He didn’t flinch. He just looked at her—really looked at her—and for a moment, it was like the years fell away.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, voice low, gravel scraping through vulnerability. “Just let me talk.”
She didn’t lower the blade, but she didn’t raise it either. Her chest was rising and falling too fast.
“Talk?” she spat. “You’ve had weeks—months—to talk. All you’ve done is scream and tear at the walls. You tried to kill Sam. You almost killed Cas.”
“I know,” he said softly. “I know what I’ve done. I remember everything. Every second. Every scream. Every time I looked at you and couldn’t feel a damn thing except the need to rip you apart.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “Then why now? Why me?”
“Because I saw you last night.” His voice cracked. “You came down there. Thought I was asleep. Sat across the room and whispered my name like it still meant something to you.”
She swallowed hard. She had done that. She thought he hadn’t noticed.
“It broke something in me,” he continued, taking a cautious step forward. “Or maybe it fixed something. I don’t know. But I heard you. And I remembered what it felt like to be... me.”
She stared at him, blade trembling.
“You don’t get to do this,” she said, barely audible. “You don’t get to claw your way out for five minutes and pretend none of it happened.”
“I’m not pretending,” he said. “I’m fighting. The demon—he's in here, yeah, and he's strong. But so am I. I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel anything. Because I do. For you.”
The words hung in the air like ash.
She shook her head slowly. “Dean…”
“I love you.”
Silence.
No thunder. No storm. Just the soft, heartbreaking truth falling between them like glass.
“I loved you before the Mark. Before Hell. Before I knew how damn dark this world could get. And even now, in this mess of black eyes and blood and pain—I still do.”
Her blade lowered an inch.
He watched her with aching reverence, like she was sunlight on winter snow.
“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he said. “Hell, I probably don’t deserve to even say your name anymore. But if there’s anything left of me—anything real—it’s how I feel about you.”
A tear escaped her lashes.
She stepped forward, slowly, hesitantly, until they were only inches apart.
His breath hitched.
She reached up with one trembling hand and brushed her fingertips across his cheek. His skin was warm. Real. Human. Her thumb grazed a fading cut beneath his eye.
For a split second, the black in his eyes flickered—faded—and beneath it, she saw Dean. The man she had loved. The man who had made her laugh in cheap motel rooms, who held her when the nightmares got bad, who whispered comfort in the darkest corners of the hunt.
“Dean,” she whispered, lips trembling. “You’re still in there.”
He leaned into her touch like a drowning man to the surface. “Don’t forgive me. Just… remember me. That’s all I ask.”
“I never stopped.”
They stood there, suspended in time, forehead to forehead, breathing the same air for the first time in what felt like centuries.
Then—
The sound of wings.
Castiel.
The room pulsed with divine presence, the air thickening as the angel stepped into view, sword in hand, grace flaring behind his eyes.
Dean didn’t turn. He didn’t flinch. He just pulled away from Y/N gently and exhaled like the weight of the world was finally being lifted—even if only to be replaced by chains again.
“I’m ready,” he said without looking at Cas.
Castiel’s face was unreadable. “You escaped.”
“I needed to say goodbye.”
Cas glanced at Y/N, her hand still hovering where Dean’s face had been. He nodded once, expression softening. “Then it was worth the risk.”
Dean turned to her one last time.
“Thank you. For reminding me who I was.”
Tears streamed down her face. “You’re still him. Somewhere in there, you’re still mine.”
And then Castiel stepped forward, wrapped Dean in glowing chains of grace, and vanished with him in a flutter of wings and light.
The room fell silent again.
This time, for real.
Y/N stood alone in the wreckage of her heart, the echo of Dean’s confession still ringing in her ears. Her hand dropped to her side. She stared at the empty space where he’d stood, a sob finally breaking loose from her chest.
Heyyy so I was wonder how would soldier boy take care of someone. Like how would he cope if left to look after someone who’s sick/injured whilst trying to maintain his bravado in front of others however he’s worried sick really. Maybe some mutual pining and unexpressed feelings going on. Idk you’re the genius <3
Love Me Like You Do//Move and I'll Tie You To That Bed, Sweetheart
Happy Valentines Week!
Description: Soldier Boy is left behind to take care of you, the reader after you severely break your leg. You do not make it easy for him.
Pairing: Soldier Boy x Injured! Reader
Warnings: None; Soldier Boy is his own warning
Note: You guys just love these cutre little drabbles. And a lot of you have expressed your undying love for me. If it is any consolation...
I love you guys too. <3
“I can walk— no biggie.” You chirped sliding on the floor, trying to stand with your newly fitted cast plastered to your leg.
Ben stood not too far from you with a look of amusement, fisting his beer in one hand he continued to stare at you. He had already put you to bed five times, but you heavily insisted trying to do things yourself without his help, which lead you to this exact predicament.
"Come on sweetheart...." He said trying to get you to at least help him not break your leg anymore that it was. You refused and squirmed in his hands.
"Darlin' I swear to god if you don't stand up..." You were staring up at him with a grin.
"So you do care about me...." You held a cheeky expression as he grimaced.
can i request some obsessive Soldier Boy (with female reader), pls? i can't stop thinking about him being obsessed with having a family and after feeling that he lost everything, he meets y/n in The Boys and decides that she's the perfect woman for him and he won't let her go.
All In The Family// I Will Never Stop With You
Description: Soldier Boy loves a good family, yet never had the time to start one. However, when he meets you--that all changes--for better or for worse.
Pairings: Soldier Boy x Reader
Warnings: Soldier Boy is his own warning, language, sexual innuendos towards Hughie, manhandling.
Note: I love this request. Forever be in my heart.
Nothing could have prepared you for the situation at hand. You, a C class supe working with William Butcher and his rag-tag team of misfit toys. Aside from that, was you were currently being stared down by the one hero you never thought you would ever see outside of a poster.
Soldier Boy.
You had been making dinner for the team, when America's #1 supe had planted himself in one of the kitchen chairs that sat in front of the island counter. Turning your head, you could instantly feel his eyes wandering your figure, practically undressing you from where you were standing in front of the oven.
"Do you need something?" you chirped, a smile stretching across your face.
He returned the smirk, his tongue licking his bottom lip as he bit it, stifling a chuckle that rumbled in his chest.
"Mind grabbing me a cold one from the fridge?"
You nodded, moving from the oven to grab him one of the cold beers from the fridge. Realizing as you fiddled around with the things inside that you guys were all out of beer. You plopped back up onto your feet, shutting the door, swiveling around.
"Hate to break it to you honey, but we are out of beer. I can go by the store later and pick some up." You said with a soft giggle.
Soldier Boy shook his head, again giving you a sweet smile, as he continued to watch you cook.
Little things like this is what kept Soldier Boy going for the most part. The last woman he ever had arrangements with were either dead or hated his guts. But you?
You were nice to him.
He listened to you hum while checking on whatever you were baking in the oven. He slowly moved from his seat towards you, as you bent back up to return to the ingredients in the pan. He gently grasped onto your hips, which earned him a louder squeak.
"What on Earth are you doing? I'm cooking." You sheepishly quipped. His hold on your hips was not at all threatening. Pressing his chest into your back, as he swayed.
"Enjoying the moment." Soldier Boy began as you let him hold you.
This was not the first time he did this. You understood that being in the box for four decades left a person touch starved and lonely. And by knowing what kind of person Soldier Boy was you had to admit he was a bit intimidating at first. However, he was just a man with a shield that needed his attention. By all means, a few hugs were not a problem from time to time.
"Y'know you would make a pretty little housewife." You snorted. Leaning up to look at him.
"Would that make you my husband?" You felt his grip tighten around you.
Soldier Boy had always wanted a family of his own. Yet never had the time to fulfill those worldly desires. The thought of you as his wife, and having a few kids was on his mind. Slowly becoming more and more of an obsession. Though the two of you were not together, him pushing his feelings aside, yet he always thought kindly of you. It was the same problem over and over. He was busy, and didn't have the time. Didn't have the guts to say a word to you. Well, until now.
"Absolutely, sweetheart." He put his chin on top of your head, standing there with you against him. Humming while you cooked.
"Does that mean you like me, Soldier Boy?" You joke, pulling away to set the cooked food onto the counter.
"Like is an understatement." He answered dutifully.
"How so?" You replied, turning around to lean up against the counter with him in front of you.
"Sweetheart, it’s been 40 fucking years since I had anything. Never had the time for shit. But now, out of the box, out of whatever fucking mess the Brit and his team of fuckwads have me doing. With Homelander missing...I can slow down and take the time to see that you are one hell of a woman." He raised up a gloved hand to press against your cheek.
"That is sweet and all, Soldier Boy. Do you really think I'm all that? I mean, I am nothing compared to what you had back then-- I'm just..I just pick up litter in the streets and save kittens from trees." You rubbed your arms looking away from him. His hand still on your cheek, he pulled you back to look at him.
"I only see you." He bent down to press a soft kiss on your cheek, rubbing your shoulders.
"In more ways than one." he whispered into your ear before you playfully slapped at his arms.
"You are so gross." You laughed.
"You love it." He chuckled.
"You're not wrong." You stated, patting the hard textured plate of armor he had strapped to his chest.
Soldier Boy lifted you up onto the counter with ease, toying with the hem of the sundress you were wearing. His thoughts running while with all the seemingly domestic ideas that ran amuck.
"I always had thoughts of us like this." He started, but stopped as he turned his head to stare blankly at something in the corner.
"Thoughts like?" You beckoned for him to finish his statement.
"Of you and I. Getting married, popping out a few kids. Nice house away from everyone." You pulled his face to look at you. And you smiled sadly.
"Soldier Boy. It's a bit too soon to start thinking like that with me." You pushed yourself off of the counter and out of his grip to finish making dinner.
"We hardly know each other. I like you-I do, but thoughts like that...a bit fast don't you think?" Soldier Boy bit the inside of his cheek. Not saying a word.
"I'm sorry if that hurt your feelings." You added.
"None taken." with a curt nod you placed the food for dinner onto the table, walking towards the living room to call for the others. Before you could say anything Soldier Boy stopped you.
"Hey."
You stopped, "Yes?" You asked.
"Maybe you aren't ready now. Or in a couple years, whatever. Just know. You're mine." His tone was dangerously low. You gulped down a bit of spit and nodded.
As Soldier Boy watched you disappear into the living room, he again took his seat at the end of the dining table, crossing his legs and folding his hands, amused by himself and what was to become of his future.
His future life with you and the two kids he always wanted to make.
