DEAN having a run away phase but its at 17 and he joins the army (probably: i know john was a crayon-eating Marine stick with me here) the army knew he forged his dads permission papers and let him in anyway. Dean only does his four years and gets out so hes 21 when he tracks down his dad and brother and sam is 17 now, and dean is built like a tank and Sam starts following his orders instead of johns and john is pissed but also cant help but be proud of his little meathead son so he lets it slide. Dean gives Sam his dog tags etc etc
Summary:Worked to exhaustion as Soldier Boy’s assistant, you endure weeks of relentless verbal abuse, manipulation, and humiliation—until you decide to take back control by refusing to give him the reactions he craves. Masking your resentment behind forced politeness and professionalism, you quietly unsettle him, turning his intimidation into confusion. When his crude advances are met with calm indifference instead of outrage, the balance of power begins to shift. For the first time, Soldier Boy doesn’t see you as disposable background noise—but as a challenge he can’t ignore.
Warnings: Soldier Boy need I say more, mentions of drug use, language, mature, MDNI, use of y/n
A/N: Thought I should drop it early as it was ready! Pls lmk in the comments if you would like to be tagged when I next upload :)
Monday: 2:00pm
The tension hung thick in the air as the final bell went off to end filming for the day, as you sat waiting by the door, coffee in hand waiting for him. Always waiting. It felt like with this job all you ever did was wait. “What you thinking about doll?” a sharp rough voice cut through your thoughts as you shot up from your chair holding out his fresh black coffee, like the trained puppet you were. “Christ on a cross, I leave you for two fucking minutes and youre already slacking.” he spits, looking down on you. You bite your tongue and smile up at him. “Won’t happen again sir” you force out. You were met with a scoff as he took a sip of his coffee once again. “Your meeting is in 20 minutes, you have a car waiting outside.” you say as you start to grab your coat and bag from the floor. “You have another assistant accompanying you for your meeting as I have not been put on the schedule for the rest of today.” you try to contain your grin as you slide into your coat, waiting for chaos to ensue. You throw your bag over your shoulder and start to walk out off set as a firm grasp pulls you back, spinning you to meet his hard gaze, and furrowed brows. “That's bullshit, and you know it sweetheart.” his voice hoarse, firm. You look up at him in disbelief not knowing what to do, you swallow hard. “Youre being accompanied by your second assistant James.” You force out trying not to focus on the restriction of blood in your arm. “New’s flash sweetheart, schedules changed, your coming with me, I can’t trust that fuck to do anything, hes a fucking nobody, who can’t do him job properly. You are coming with me and that's final, or kiss this job goodbye” He looks down at you with a smirk plastered across his face. Losing this job would probably be the worst and best thing to ever happen to me. You thought to yourself not speaking up, you just sigh and nod as you start to head towards the car that is waiting for him outside.
Monday: 2:34pm
Vought tower was more intimidating than you’d like to admit, just walking into it made your skin crawl. The conference room smells like stale coffee and expensive cologne, all glass walls and polished metal meant to intimidate rather than invite. A Vought logo glows on the screen at the front as a man in a crisp suit clicks through slides. Soldier Boy sits at the table like he owns it, his boots stretched out, arms crossed, jaw tight. He hasn’t looked at the screen once. You stand off to the side near the wall, clipboard tucked against your chest, pen moving steadily. Numbers. Percentages. City names. You write everything down anyway, neat and organized, even as it becomes painfully obvious none of it is sticking with him. “As you can see,” the analyst drones on, “violent crime in metropolitan areas has dropped seven percent following Soldier Boy’s most recent public appearances”
Soldier Boy scoffs, leaning back farther in his chair. “I don’t need a room full of suits telling me how fear works.” he mutters, loud enough to derail the room. A few nervous chuckles ripple through the executives. You don’t look up. You just underline 7% decrease and add a note beside it. The presenter clears his throat and continues. “We’re recommending a shift toward strategic visibility, less brute-force engagement, more targeted appearances backed by-” They continue to drone on as Soldier Boy checks his watch. Then his reflection in the glass wall. Then messed with his cup of coffee. Anything but the presentation. You catch the movement in your peripheral vision but don’t react. Instead, you jot down targeted appearances and PR-driven deterrence, even adding a small star beside it. This is important, whether he thinks so or not. One of the executives glances at you. “Y/N? Can you make sure this gets added to his schedule?” You nod immediately. “Of course.” Calm. Professional. Unbothered. Soldier Boy finally turns his head then, eyes flicking toward you like he’s just remembered you exist. There’s a beat. Longer than necessary,before he scoffs again. “She’s my assistant, not my fucking babysitter,” he says. You don’t respond. You just keep writing. The analyst moves on to projected hotspots, graphs spiking red across certain districts. You adjust your stance slightly, shifting your weight as your hand starts to ache, but you don’t miss a word. Soldier Boy leans forward suddenly. “Are we done yet?” “Almost,” the analyst says quickly. “Just one final slide.” Soldier Boy groans, dropping back into his chair dramatically. You finish your last note, click your pen closed, and lift your eyes for the first time,just briefly to meet his gaze. He’s watching you now. Not the screen. Not the executives. You offer him nothing. No smile. No irritation. Just quiet competence. When the meeting ends, chairs scrape back and people begin talking over one another. Soldier Boy stands first, already halfway to the door. “Send me the highlights,” he tosses over his shoulder. You speak without hesitation. “Already have them.”
He pauses.
Just for a second.
Then he leaves.
You look down at your notes,thorough, precise, everything he ignored,and for once, you feel something close to satisfaction. You brush it off before heading straight out after him practically shouting down the hallway. Fucking hell this man walks fast. “You have an interview for Vought Network.” You watch him stop dead in his tracks, “You have got to be fucking kidding me” Soldier Boy mutters,pinching the bridge of his nose. You manage to catch up to him.
“It’s a live interview in ten minutes. If we don’t move, you’re going to be on air looking like you just came off a two week coke induced bender… again.” He stops abruptly, glancing down at you, one eyebrow raised. “And you’re gonna make sure I don’t?” His grin is sharp, teasing, like he’s enjoying having someone call him out. “Yes, seems like I don’t really have a choice. Plus ” you reply evenly, holding the clipboard a little closer. “That’s literally my job.” He huffs, leaning closer, close enough that you feel the heat radiating off him. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be all business, you sure like bossing me around.”
“And for someone who’s supposed to be a hero, you sure need a lot of reminding,” you shoot back, trying to keep your smirk hidden. He chuckles, a low, dangerous sound that makes the hallway feel smaller. “Maybe I like being reminded… especially by you.”
You straighten, brushing past him with a casual air, though your pulse has spiked. “Good. Then let’s get you ready before the network sees just how terrible you are at interviews.” you feel the mask of this new sunshine persona you’ve adopted start to slip. He falls into step beside you, smirking, clearly enjoying the banter more than the fact that he’s already running behind. “You’re lucky you’re not shit at your job otherwise, I’d probably leave you in the dust.”
“Yeah, I'm very aware.” you reply without missing a beat. The tension lingers in the air as you lead him into the elevator. He glances at you every few steps, smirk never leaving his face, clearly torn between irritation at the schedule and intrigue at your composure.
Monday: 5:00pm
The studio lights were harsh, making you squint as you set Soldier Boy’s notes on the prep table. The interviewer, a slick man with a perfectly rehearsed smile and a glint in his eye, leaned casually against the table next to you. “Well, I have to say,” he said, voice smooth and deliberate, “it’s really impressive how calm you are. Most people here would be sweating bullets trying to keep up with… him.” His eyes flicked toward Soldier Boy, then back at you. “Lucky for you, huh?” You smiled politely, keeping your voice professional. “Just doing my job,” you said, tightening your grip on the clipboard. He tilted his head, brushing a strand of hair from his face as he leaned closer. “I mean… seriously. It’s rare to see someone so composed. Most assistants would be tripping over their own feet just being in the same room as him.” You offered a courteous nod. “I’ve been around long enough to know how to manage my priorities.” He chuckled low, a little too knowingly. “I like that. Confident, smart, and not afraid to stand your ground. I bet that keeps you in the job, huh?” God he’s more sleazy than Soldier Boy. It made you feel physically sick how hard he was trying, and honestly you kinda pitied the guy. You raised an eyebrow. “That’s the plan. Keeps things running smoothly.” He smirked, stepping even closer. “I could learn a thing or two from you. Maybe after we wrap, I could buy you a coffee… or a drink? You know, just to hear some of these tricks firsthand.” Your fingers tightened around the clipboard. “I appreciate the offer, but I need to stay focused on Soldier Boy’s schedule. He runs a pretty tight ship.” You force a laugh, to not make him insecure, god forbid you bruise this poor man's ego. His grin didn’t falter. “Oh, come on. I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to take a couple hours out of your day, you’re used to being in control. I like that. Makes it… interesting.” At that exact moment, Soldier Boy strode into the room, cape flowing behind him, boots echoing on the floor. He caught the last part of the interviewer’s comment. His gaze flicked toward you, just for a beat,an intensity that made your pulse hitch. “Actually,” Soldier Boy said, voice low but sharp, “forget it. We’re not doing this.” The interviewer blinked. “Uh… what? We’ve already-”
“Nope. Canceled.” Soldier Boy’s eyes flicked back to you again, lingering just slightly longer than necessary. You swallowed, glancing between them. “Sir-”
“Not discussing it,” he cut you off, spinning on his heel to leave the room, boots clicking with purpose.
The interviewer straightened, smirk fading into surprise. “Wow… didn’t see that coming.” You could practically feel the sarcasm in his voice. You exhaled quietly, glancing at Soldier Boy’s retreating form. You reluctantly followed him out the room shouting down to him.
“You have to do this interview! Your whole career is riding on this sir!” slight panic rising in the back of your throat. “I’m not doing it. End of.” he snapped, now walking too fast for you to keep up. “What am I supposed to tell them?” you shout.
“I don't give a shit, figure something out, you’re good at that!” He barked down the hallway, followed by a door slamming so hard it left your ears ringing.
(I have watched several episodes and I don’t have yet a full opinion on him. I will come back and reread what I wrote here. That will be quite curious!)
He seems to be a shy or social awkward guy. Cute type who sits in the corner with his notebook, drawing something. And also he looks like he is ignored by staff. Hmhmm
