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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 days ago

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Epilogue: I Don't Want To Lose Your Lovelight

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy

Word Count: 10.8K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Illusions to past sex, Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Teasing, Fluff, LOVE, Talks of Pregnancy/thinking about pregnancy, little bit of self-deprecating thought. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Listen While You Read🪴: Lovelight by ABBA

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Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: Well here we are... The people have spoken and I will be leaving the happy version as is! Enjoy!

One Year Later

“I don’t understand why we need to have a realtor to look at apartments. Why can’t we just camp out in front of a nice apartment building and wait for an ambulance to wheel someone out like everyone else?” You huff looking down at the apartment listing on your phone that Ben was taking you to. “Or better yet, we could use Apartments.com. I trust Jeff Goldblum with my life.”

Who doesn't? The man is a national treasure.

"The guy from the movie about the dinosaurs?" Ben asks easing his car into traffic before taking a right.

Sunlight filtered through the windshield and down onto your lap illuminating the embroidered patches of flowers on your favorite blue jeans, the same jeans that were getting just a little tight at the top and the ones you wouldn't be able to wear for the next 6 months or so. You smile to yourself at the thought, and drop your left hand to your stomach that was just starting to swell beneath your botanical printed t-shirt, brushing a thumb over the soft fabric.

This year had been full of surprises, some good, some bad, but you didn’t care. Through the good and the bad, Ben had been there for you just as you had been there for him.

If someone had asked you what you thought your life was going to look like, it wouldn't have been this, but you were so blindingly happy that you didn't care. Ben might not have been the person that you imagined yourself with, but that was the funny thing about love, it could come with whispered breaths, soft caresses, and gentle promises or sneak up behind you and hit you over the back of the head with a frying pan.

There was no in between and your ears were still ringing from when it smacked you.

Ben quit his job at Vought over the phone the morning after the two of you finally realized what you should have known the moment you let Ben stay in your apartment the first time. It had been surreal waking up with him in your bed, his body hard and unyielding, curved around yours as if he wished to protect you while he was asleep. It was the same way you remembered from the morning you woke up with him on the couch when Darren was crashing in your room.

That night had seemed so far away then, an unpleasant flicker of emotion swelling when you thought of your brother, but then dissipated the longer you stared at Ben.

In the sweet relief of sleep he looked younger. His dark hair fell forward into his face, his bearded cheek laid gently on the pillow, and his usual frown pulled down into a neutral expression, but he looked just as handsome as he always did. Ben hadn't woken up until you raised his hand to your mouth and kissed the inside of his palm gently. And the smile he gave you when he did made you wish to exist in that moment with him forever. The look on his face then was so unlike the man you'd seen in the heat of battle the first time you met and everything like the man you'd fallen in love with.

Stan Edgar had been furious, said that Ben was purposely trying to make him look bad, but Ben didn't give a fuck what Stan thought of him, the only thing he cared about was curled against his chest, and was holding his hand to her lips.

Jake opened up the new plant shop re-named "Please Don't Die The Revenge," a title Jake and you had thought up after drinking way too many brightly colored margaritas at happy hour while Ben sulked and wished he was anywhere else.

However, Ben thought it was adorable how much of a light weight you were, and lead you home while you made jokes, giggled, and whispered things into his ear that only tested his restraint. Your boyfriend might be a lot of things, but he didn't want to take advantage of you when you were like that, especially not when you couldn't remember that you had feet and wouldn't stop crying until he took your shoes off and showed you that you still had them.

When Jake re-opened the shop, he insisted that you were going to be a partner, not an employee, and when he'd told you, you'd burst into tears while Ben grumbled under his breath something not worth repeating. Ben still didn't like Jake, and despite your numerous insistences for Ben to be nice, Ben was just as sullen around him as he had been since the first day they met. However, now Jake was used to it so you no longer felt the need to apologize.

You'd also decided to retire from working with Butcher, something that Ben wholeheartedly agreed with, especially now that you were pregnant. Sometimes you'd help out with something on the computer, but never in taking down a supe. It made you happier to work in the plant shop anyway, but didn't make you worry any less about Ben or everyone else.

The shop was doing well, and on weekends the store partnered with other businesses to host a block wide farmer's market, where you sold fruit, vegetables, dried herbs, hand crocheted goods, and jars of jam while Jake took the weekend off to visit his new girlfriend that he'd met when he went home for Christmas.

Ben may or may not have encouraged Jake to call her and you were sure it was so that Jake didn't get any ideas about how much time the two of you were spending together. You had an inkling that Ben still believed that you liked Jake no matter how many times that you proved to Ben you didn't. You didn’t think that there was any competition between Ben and Jake, not when being with Ben made you feel alive in the best way and being with Jake was like being with an overactive golden doodle.

However, despite how many times you told Ben that he didn't need to come with you on his days off, he would sit beside you frowning, but following your movements with his eyes while you helped customers. Every so often you'd see a half-smile twitch on the end of his lips, happy that you were happy- but not happy to be there. It was a theme with your boyfriend, but you knew it stemmed from how much he loved you. Being in the plant shop and seeing Jake reminded you of that, because Ben had made sure that the shop re-opened for you and he had saved Jake's life for you. Ben had done more for you in the time that you'd been together than anyone else that you'd allowed into your life and into your bed.

Ben was it for you, and you were going to prove it every day for the rest of your life to him if that was what it took.

Days at the farmer’s market were fun. You would close down for an hour so Ben and you could wander to different booths to see what everyone else was selling.

Those days always felt normal. It reminded you of the farmer's market that your hometown had each Saturday and the same ones you dragged Annie to at the crack of dawn to get the first sample of freshly churned honey butter or the first sample of strawberry ice cream. When Ben and you walked hand in hand through the crowded marketplace stopping along the way to sample fruit, cheese, honey, and whatever else you could find with the warm sun on you back, it was the happiest you'd ever felt.

It was what you'd always wanted, the kind of relationship you’d longed to have for so long, the same one you’d seen growing up with your parents and grandparents, and the one you'd thought you'd never have.

You could see yourself marrying Ben. Odd given the first time you met, you'd thought he was just a big grumpy brute of a man with the attitude of a caveman and the impatience of a toddler. But now things were different, Ben was your caveman with an impatience of a toddler, and you'd never felt this way about anyone else.

You'd never wanted anyone like you wanted Ben and couldn't see a future without him in it. Even in the earlier months the two of you were dating, you could see your life unfolding before your eyes. It felt crazy because you’d never been one to rush into anything, but with Ben the things that used to hold you back from jumping into the great unknown disappeared.

These days the unknown seemed to grow larger and larger by the minute, but instead of feeling uncomfortable about not knowing, you felt free.

Of course, the pregnancy was holding the gold medal for biggest source of the unknown.

It had been a surprise to find out that you were pregnant two and a half months ago. Not completely, given how enthusiastic, insatiable, and eager your boyfriend was when it came to sex or really how you were when it came to him.

In all honesty, you couldn't blame it all on Ben.

You were just as responsible for this as him given how much you seemed to want him all the time. Surprising, because you were never like this with your high school boyfriend or in any of the other sporadic relationships you'd had in the past, but you supposed that it was just Ben, that there was something about him that made you lose all sense of self-control. You also figured that you let the self-control drive long enough when you refused to admit how much you cared about him and now you owed it to yourself to throw it all out the window and lose yourself in everything he was.

That being said, you were terrified the moment you found out you were pregnant. Ben had been away on a mission and you'd had to wait a week for him to get back while you sat with your grandmother on your couch for days. You hadn't wanted to tell Ben yet and especially not over the phone.

It didn't seem like something you said over the phone anyway.

Your grandmother had shown up a few hours after you took the seventh test, because you hoped that there was some kind of mistake with the first six. She'd seen the future before you had a chance to pick up the phone and give her a call, but you were grateful that she was there.

You needed her.

Annie would have come too, but she was out of town on the same mission that Ben was. And you were afraid to call for fear that Ben would hear you say it over the phone with his supe hearing. Texting her that you were pregnant meant that it would be in print somewhere with evidence and you didn't want the possibility of Ben seeing it on Annie's phone.

That last part seemed a little far fetched, because you didn't know why Ben would have Annie's phone, but you were allowing yourself to have a mini-freak out, you were pregnant.

But no matter how many scenarios you discussed with your grandmother, it always came back to one thing, you loved Ben and you wanted to have a baby with him. You just weren't sure of the timing.

The two of you had only been together for ten months then, and although you couldn't imagine yourself with anyone else, you were hesitant.

Ben was still adjusting to everything in the future and introducing a kid into his life could be chaotic and messy. You also weren't sure if it was a good idea given how insane Ben's life had been for the past forty years and how hard you were trying to give him a sense of normalcy in the time you'd been together.

But then you'd thought about it more.

The shop was doing well, you loved Ben, he loved you, you did want kids, and you were so happy that it made you believe that it was the right time.

Ben had been excited when you told him, but then you both realized the bigger dilemma, your apartment. It was already small with the two of you, Rex, and Bean. Ben didn't fit in the shower or in your bed and he barely fit in your kitchen when the two of you were standing in it, which meant that adding a kid to the mix would only make the apartment smaller.

You'd looked at an apartment five months ago, only because you saw how excited he was about something so mundane and it made your heart warm to see that he wanted to build a life with you, but you had hated the apartment. It reminded you of the terrible one he'd had at Vought.

And the one Ben was taking you to see today wasn't much better. This was number seventeen and you didn't have high hopes.

Ben takes a left turn, going over a speed bump that you somehow can't feel inside the cab. His car was fancier than what you were used to and brand new. Ben had proudly told you that they weren't selling them in the United States yet, which begged the question: how in the hell had he gotten it? It had enough switches inside to make you fear about the probability of an ejector seat.

The first time he’d picked you up in it, you were grateful he’d opened the door for you when you tried to get out because you were sure that it would have taken you twenty minutes to figure that out on your own. You’d thought that Ben would have at least sprung for a car that was more low tech or something that reminded him of the life he had in the past, but no.

And now he was talking about getting another car for you that was higher off the ground to make sure that the baby would be safe. He kept saying how he didn't like you walking around when he wasn't there to go with you and a car would be safer, despite your protests that you liked walking and didn't need a car.

You never thought that Ben would be this overprotective, you should have, given how he acted like a helicopter parent after everything with Elijah, but he was.

The pregnancy only made it worse.

He never let you walk in your neighborhood or to work without him, claiming that it "wasn't safe" as if you weren't a supe and couldn't handle yourself. Whenever you went to the grocery store Ben tagged along frowning at whoever walked by with a shopping cart as if they were a threat. When somebody dropped a glass pickle jar two aisles over a few days ago and Ben had grabbed you and put you behind him so fast it made you dizzy.

Now whenever you tried to leave the apartment, Ben insisted that he could do whatever errand it was that you were going to do faster, and he was always reluctant to leave you at the plant shop, stating that you "shouldn't be lifting things." You'd even caught him reading one of your pregnancy books when he thought you were in the shower and he'd lied and said that it fell on the floor and he was 'just picking it up.' That didn't explain how he knew exactly what you should be eating and what vitamins you needed to take.

But instead of teasing Ben about it, you kept your mouth shut because you thought it was cute how much Ben cared about you and how excited he was about the baby. You knew that he'd been waiting for this for much longer than you.

You'd woken up a few days ago with Ben's head on your stomach listening to the baby's heart-beat while he thought you were asleep murmuring things under his breath that you couldn’t hear.

It was those moments that made any anxiety you had about being a parent fade, because you knew that you weren't alone in this, that Ben was with you and he wasn't going anywhere.

“He’s an amazing actor and he’s definitely going on the list of people I’m allowed to cheat on you with.” You snort mind flitting to images of Jeff Goldblum lounging on a table clad in black, looking much too sexy for someone who was attacked by a t-rex.

“You realize that no matter how long that list gets you’re still not allowed to do that right?” Ben glances over at you with a frown.

Ben looked good today. His dark hair was a little longer than usual- he kept saying that he needed to get a haircut but never did-, he was wearing a pair of sunglasses that made him look dangerous and sexy, and the blue jeans he was wearing were some of your favorites. They were worn in just right and each time Ben wore them it made it difficult for you to form a single sentence. Of course, the thing that made you want to jump his bones even more was the fact that Ben was wearing the dark green sweater you made him for Christmas.

You had been so scared to give it to him, but since that day, Ben wore it whenever he could, and whenever the two of you were out and he would get a compliment, because he always did, Ben would say proudly "my girlfriend made it for me."

“Sure. Just like I’m sure that no matter how long that list gets for you, if you ever cheat on me I’ll castrate you.” You reply, scrolling to a different listing on your phone. This one had a nice view of Central Park, but the living room looked big enough to park four SUV's in. It was too much, too big, and too cold.

No matter how many different apartments you looked at in person or online, you never seemed to find one that felt like home. In each one you'd found something that you didn't agree with, whether it be the bathroom, the lack of a washer/dryer, the neighborhood, or the layout, nothing felt right and you were starting to worry. At this rate you were sure that your child would be old enough to move out before the two of you found somewhere to live. You wanted a place that reminded you of your home back in Illinois with your grandmother, someplace that felt warm, someplace that you could see yourself raising a family, and something that felt permanent.

Your fingers go to the locket around your neck, rubbing your thumb over the cool metal surface, tracing the grooves and pattern on the front to ease your anxiety. It had been Ben's mother's, one of the only things that he had left of her, but it was something that he wanted you to have. It was the most important gift that you'd ever gotten in your entire life, because you knew what it represented. Your boyfriend might not be good with his words or expressing his emotions, but this locket said everything he couldn't.

Ben's eyes trace over where you sit. "What's wrong Petals?"

"Nothing-"

Ben sighs "You've got that scrunch between your eyebrows sweetheart. We both know you can't lie to me."

You hesitate. "I don't like that we haven't found a place yet."

"That why you can't sleep?"

You bite the inside of your cheek and look down at your lap. You didn't know that Ben had noticed how you weren't sleeping well and it had nothing to do with not being able to find an apartment.

At first you thought that it was the pregnancy, as if the almost constant morning sickness wasn't enough, making you have worse dreams than normal was the icing on top of the cake. You'd had nightmares in the past about your parents, but these dreams were different. They were all about your brother Darren and each time he stood in front of you his skin and flesh melted away leaving nothing more than a flickering outline that buzzed and popped like a hot stove before it fizzled up and disappeared.

You had no idea what it meant, but you didn’t want to bring it up to Ben, not when he was so happy. So you choose not to answer his question.

"We're going to find a place, this just takes time." He continues.

"Not for me. Not usually. I chose my last apartment within a weekend-"

"And look at how shitty it is!" Ben huffs. "I can't believe that you lived there as long as you did without getting mugged."

"I am able to handle myself. And if you recall you have seen me fight off muggers."

Ben's frown deepens. "Don't remind me." You watch his eyes flick down to where your hand rests gently on your abdomen. "Look Petals, I know you like our apartment, but it's not just us anymore."

"I know."

"I don't want to raise our kid in that building with Mike blowing out my fucking eardrums every morning. And I could do without his mother trying to hump my leg like a bitch in heat every time I take out the trash."

Your eyes water just a little when Ben says the word ‘our.’ It solidified the thought that you weren’t alone in this, that Ben wasn’t going to leave you. You didn't really believe that he would, but it was nice to be reminded once in a while.

"Aww she's your biggest fan. And I seem to remember you being into older women before we were together-"

"And I seem to remember you saying that you would castrate me if I cheated on you."

"I will castrate you, but Mike's mother doesn't count. She's your hall pass, just like Jeff Goldblum is mine."

"No, he's not."

"Debatable."

"Petals." Ben growls, throwing you a dark look from over the console that sends a shiver down your spine.

Before Ben you never thought that jealousy was attractive, didn't think that it was cute when your high school boyfriend Newton got jealous when someone else talked to you, but Ben could make even the most annoying things look sexy.

"You should keep your eyes on the road Gramps, wouldn't want to get in an accident."

"I don't fucking care. Keep talking like that sweetheart and I'm going to pull the car over and make sure that my name is the only one on those perfect lips."

You arch an eyebrow in a silent challenge. "Promise?"

"And you say it's me that always gets us into trouble." Ben chuckles with a dark look.

The car comes to a stop and you turn away from Ben's hypnotic gaze to stare out the window, expecting to see the beautiful all glass front of the apartment that was way out of your price range, but instead the car is sitting outside a house in quiet neighborhood overhung with large trees that weave together in a canopy over the street.

The house is three stories, made of red brick, the small yard in front is fenced with black wrought iron with a garden box lying beyond the metal spikes where someone has tried to grow plants, but was not having any success. There's a dark painted archway over the black door that boldly has the number of the home written in gold, and a large round window dominates the space to the left of the door cut into the red brick, that is partially obscured by a mass of tangled vines which cling to the outside of the house.

"So we're going to have sex in your car outside of this house? Feels like the homeowner's association will have a field day." You watch a couple walk past with matching dalmatians and cashmere sweaters. "Or we'd get arrested for public indecency when fido and fido's girlfriend call 911."

"Maybe later."

"Well then why did you stop? Did you get lost?" You turn to look at him. "It's okay if you did, I won't make fun of you-" You pause. "Never mind, I can't promise that."

Ben rolls his eyes. "No, I didn't get lost. I wanted you to see this place."

"Ben this is a house." You emphasize the word, your eyes widening. "Remember when we had the conversation about trying to get an apartment so I could at least help you with the rent."

It had been an awkward conversation, you felt bad about making him try to reign in something that made him so excited.

Now that you were part owner of the plant shop you were getting a little more money and didn't need to rely so heavily on Ben, but you still didn't like taking his money. Your grandmother had always instilled in you the importance of being independent and you'd never relied on someone the way you relied on Ben.

You'd always felt the need to prepare yourself for the worst, for having a back up plan if things didn't work out, and you were realizing just how much weight you put on your shoulders each day. Ben wanted to lighten the load, you knew that, but you were trying your best to put more trust in him, inching out from beneath the piano on your shoulders by letting him do more and more for you.

It was still hard.

"Petals." Ben touches your cheek, eyes softening and making your next words dry up. He didn't often do things like that in public, but each time he did it made you feel like warm butter on a hot stove.

When Ben had started calling you that a year ago it annoyed you to no end, but now he said it affectionately, with love and hope in his eyes, and it stirred something deep down.

"Let’s just look at this one. And if you don't like it, I promise I'll drive to whatever apartment you want me to okay?"

"But it's a-" You protest, but you lean into his touch.

"I know it's a house."

"Are you sure? They say that the eyes are the first thing to go, especially with someone your age Gramps."

He huffs out a breath in annoyance. "I don't know why I put up with this shit."

"Because you loooveee me." You coo poking his cheek.

The look in Ben's eyes softens again, slowly tracing down your form to your belly again, before coming back up to your face. "Only because you annoy me so much."

"Exactly." You reach for what you believe is the door handle and Ben's smile drops into a frown.

You retract your hand. “It’s not the door handle is it?”

“Not in case you want to crawl out the window.”

“I do like to make an entrance.”

“You always do baby. Even when you’re not trying.” Ben winks and gets out of the car, walking around the back to open the door for you.

“Thank you.” You say taking his hand without hesitation.

The house looks even bigger when you gaze up at it from the sidewalk, but you can't help but admit that the house is beautiful in it's own way. It has more character than the other ones on the street that look like carbon copies of one another. It wore it's weirdness like a badge of honor, just like you always had.

And even with the small garden out front filled with dead plants that rot in the wooden garden box and the tangled vines that cover the circular front window, you can see the potential it has.

"I like the trees." You say, gesturing with the hand that's not holding on to Ben's at the canopy of large oak trees over the road that block the brilliant sunlight and leave the imprint of their outstretched branches on the pavement.

"I thought you would." Ben squeezes your hand.

"So where's our realtor?" You glance around the empty road for the sleek black Mercedes that "Tina," aka the most nosy woman in the world and your realtor, drove, but you don't see it.

"She said that she wanted to give us some space." He tugs you forward, opening the gate as he does.

"Thank God. If she tried to touch my stomach one more time or eye fuck you when she thought I wasn't looking, I was going to perform open heart surgery on her with her stilettos."

"Would have loved to see that Petals. Maybe I should have let her come today."

"Do you remember how strong Homelander was? Because I'm about to show you that he was nothing compared to a pregnant woman scorned." You warn, but Ben only laughs at you.

Your gaze falls to the attempted garden. Rosebushes, lavender, tulips, and many other flowers lie in states of decay choked with weeds, while other plants that you can't identify lie shriveled up and brown on the darkened soil. It tugs at your heart to see them that way, unloved and uncared for, left to curl up and die.

You feel your eyes shift to green calling forth the flowers, bringing them to the light, drawing them upwards to unfurl in the light of the sun and absorb the healing rays. The plants brighten and explode with pops of color that fuse the front of the house with new life and jasmine flowers bloom along the ivy that crawls up the side of the house sending the comforting smell over you as it takes on a more controlled woven tapestry rather than the chaotic snarl it was moments ago. Bougainvillea stretches up to weave itself above the front door, the dark red blooms contrasting with the black door. The circular window winks at you, and through the glass you can just barely see a hint of lightly painted walls beyond.

Your gaze falls to the small area in front of the house.

You could see yourself out here wearing your gardening hat with Bean and Rex sunning themselves in the sunlight while you weed with sweat sticking your shirt to your back and while dirt stains your fingers. Your eyes flick to the empty front steps, imagining Ben and you sitting there with cups of coffee steaming beside the two of you, with your head against his shoulder reading the paper he has open in front of him.

No, not thinking that. This is a house. Ben and I are looking for an apartment.

"Couldn't help yourself could you Petals?" Ben murmurs, dragging your attention back to him.

"No. Though I might want a commission from helping the seller with the curb appeal."

Ben rolls his eyes, but pulls you up the cheerful concrete steps to the black door before he takes a key from his pocket.

You eye it suspiciously.

"Tina gave it to me." He says with a shrug.

"That better be the only thing she gave you." Your eyes narrow, thinking of all the things that Tina could have done to your boyfriend when you weren't around.

"Jealous?" Ben's smile slips into a smirk. "Need I remind you of all the things you said you were going to let Jeff Goldblum do to you?"

"Need I remind you about the threat of castration?"

Ben leans down towards you, his breath warm against your ear, so close that you could smell his cologne. "We both know that you like what I do to you too much to cut it off Petals, especially now."

A pleasurable shiver traces your spine with his words and as much as you hated to admit it, Ben was right. As insatiable as you'd been for Ben before you were pregnant, now it had only multiplied ten fold.

In the first few weeks of your pregnancy you couldn’t have imagined wanting to have sex with Ben, the near constant morning sickness, swollen breasts, and nausea left little to be desired, but as you slowly began to inch into your second trimester you felt a change. It was like a switch had flipped. Yes the morning sickness came in waves, but your hormones bumped around inside from sick, to sad, to angry, to loving, to aroused so fast it didn’t matter for long and you were both reaping the benefits. Ben was eager to help you in any way he could and due to his supe enhancements he was able to keep up and keep you more than happy.

You fist your hand in the front of his shirt to pull his face down to yours, lips inches apart, your eyes narrowed, but pupils blown with lust. "Don't tease me right now Gramps."

"Wouldn't dream of it doll." Ben purrs, his eyes darkening.

Fuck.

You didn’t want to give in, but whenever Ben looked at you like that it made your skin heat and your heartbeat feel like thunder, vibrating through your entire body.

Ben leans towards you, but just before your lips touch his, he scoops you up into his arms and crosses the threshold.

“Ben what the hell are you doing?” You laugh, pushing at his chest.

“What? Was I not supposed to carry you across?” He pretends to be surprised.

“That’s only if we’re married dummy and this isn’t our house.”

“Oh well then it’s good practice.” Ben smirks and finally kisses you, drawing you tighter against his chest for a few precious seconds. It wasn't the kiss you expected a moment ago, this kiss was hungry, but not rushed, passionate, but not aggressive, and yet it was all consuming.

You sigh into his mouth, holding the front of his shirt tightly. You’d never gotten used to how it felt to kiss him, how everything else melted away except for him and you. Even when you’d hated him, Ben still knew exactly how to kiss you to take away all your inhibitions.

You could easily see yourself spending the rest of your life with him. And given the revelation that you potentially could live forever, it meant even more. You know that it made Ben feel good too. That he was relieved that he wouldn’t have to be alone ever again, that he could love someone the way he loved you and be unafraid of losing you.

Ben pulls back a wide smirk on his face. "I'm sorry wasn't that what you wanted? For me to bring you inside?" The look in his eyes shifts to amusement with his taunt. "Or were you thinking about me fucking you against the front door for fido and his girlfriend to see?"

"Shut up." Your cheeks heat in embarrassment that your boyfriend could read you that well.

"Because I didn’t think you were into that kind of thing Petals, but if you want we can go back outside and-"

You force his face down to yours, shutting him up the only way you know how. Ben groans into your mouth as your hands work their way up into his hair to hold him in place, your lips fervently moving against his as the warmth of arousal begins to thrum through your veins and pool in the pit of your stomach.

You pull back out of breath, fingers still tangled in Ben's long hair, your gaze locking on his. Ben's eyes are dark, lips curved up into a knowing smirk that, if Ben wasn't holding you in his arms, would make your legs give out. One of his arms is underneath your knees, but the other is around your chest, and you can feel Ben's hand fitting comfortably over the bump hidden beneath your t-shirt, absorbing the steady thud of your child's heartbeat against the palm of his hand. Something lurked behind the familiar green in his eyes, something that you could feel bubbling up in your own chest the longer you stared at him.

"Come on I want you to see the house." Ben mutters pressing one more kiss against your lips before he gently places you on the hardwood floor.

"I know. Stop distracting me." You say as you flip your hair over your shoulder.

"I'm a wonderful distraction. Wouldn't mind distracting you a little longer." His arm comes up to wrap tight around your waist, pulling your back into his chest. Ben’s lips trail down to your neck, nipping at the smooth flesh of your throat.

“Ben.” You half moan, leaning back into him. "Please."

"I know baby." He hums. "But lets look at the house first. After I'll give you what you need."

"Tease." You mutter under your breath earning a chuckle from Ben.

The two of you are standing in a foyer with a large staircase in front of you that leads to the second and third story of the house. A lightly painted hallway stretches beyond it, and a living room lies to the left through a wide doorway. The interior of the house is a mix of old and new, vintage and modern, with warm colored hardwood floors running throughout, lightly painted walls, and with dark colored wooden baseboards and door frames.

It reminded you of your grandmother's house back in Illinois and even without furniture the inside of this house felt like home. It wasn't drafty, too white, too new, too old, or too cold- it existed in the perfect harmony that Ben and you had been looking for since you started looking for an apartment.

No. This is a house. This is the complete opposite of what Ben and I are looking for.

You remind yourself as you walk into the small room to the left of the front door. There's a giant fireplace on the opposite wall with neatly placed built ins on either side. Natural sunlight came through the large circular window on the front of the house, giving you a view of the garden you'd reinvigorated with new life and the quiet street overhung with trees outside.

You could see yourself reading quietly on a plush armchair in the corner while Bean and Rex sunned themselves on the wooden floors or sitting on a couch and cuddling with Ben under a blanket in front of the fireplace when it got too cold outside, nestling into his warmth to keep the chill at bay.

You drift through the other doorway across from the circular window that leads into a dining room area. It has the same wonderfully natural colored hardwood floor so soft you were sure that it would feel like butter beneath your bare feet. You run a finger tip over the wooden doorway, feeling the smooth, strong wood beneath your hand. You could still see notches in the boards from where another family had measured how tall their children were growing with every passing year and it made you smile to yourself.

This house had character, had a history. It wasn't built in haste to house a population of people who probably would spend more time out than in, it was built with love and care, and had charm. It was what the apartments that Ben and you had seen wasn't.

Ben hovers behind you silently, watching you move through the space with curiosity. He drinking in your expressions and trying to see what you thought. You had no idea how he found this place, not when the two of you had been looking at huge modern apartments in buildings that weren't more than a year old.

The kitchen is even more impressive.

It's modern, with stainless steel appliances, light granite countertops, and a dark green backsplash, but somehow still holds some of the vintage charm that merges seamlessly together with the new appliances.

You could see yourself making jams for the farmer's market at the stove, making dinner for your family or sitting with Annie at the counter with glasses of wine lamenting over everything Hughie and Ben did to annoy the two of you while secretly loving them all the more for it. You could see yourself dancing with Ben to ABBA while the lights were low and he got home from work, just as you had seen your parents do years ago and imagined a vase filled with flowers on the counter that Ben brought home just because he felt like it, not because it was a special occasion. Ben did that for you every week, brought home flowers because he knew how much they made you smile.

"This kitchen is huge!" You exclaim, spreading your arms out to twirl in a circle. "Annie and Hughie could fit in here too!"

Ben frowns at your mention of Hughie.

"What?" You lean over the counter to stare at Ben. "You know that if we get a bigger place they're going to come over for dinner more often right? I'm thinking Friday nights they could come over for dinner and a movie-"

It was a tradition that your parents had started, that Annie and you carried on when they died, and now Ben picked up the slack. Spending Friday nights on the couch under a blanket eating greasy pizza out of the box had seemed like a foreign concept for Ben, but now it was him that always made sure that he was home on Friday nights to make it to movie night so you could cuddle up against him under the warm blankets.

"I think we see them enough." Ben leans on his side of the counter across from you with a frown. "Plus, I thought that you would like a kitchen a little bit bigger to make me dinner."

“Or maybe," You tap your chin as if deep in thought, eyes narrowing. "The kitchen is big enough for you to start pulling your weight. Doing the dishes, cleaning up, trying to make dinner for your pregnant girlfriend-“ You count off on your fingers.

“How long are you going to use that excuse?”

“For the next 7ish months or so."

Ben huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes at you, while you continue to move through the kitchen.

There's a giant living area just beyond that you can imagine Ben and you sitting on the couch in front of a TV watching another one of his ridiculous films or see you and your child sitting on the couch reading a book together while Ben sits beside you with his arm around your shoulders. You didn't know the sex of the baby, wanted to wait a little longer to see how things progressed before you found out.

But each day it became more real.

You could hear the pitter patter of feet across the floor and the squeals of an imaginary child racing through with Ben hot on their heels trying to catch them, could see a child with a smaller Rex wrapped around the back of their shoulders feeding him bits of strawberries, and could see a child in a highchair while Ben and you tried to feed them spaghetti. Your left hand drops to your belly again as you think of what the future could look like and the longer that you stand inside this house the more you can see yourself living here with Ben, having a life here together.

You hadn't seen that anywhere else that the two of you had gone to see in the past few months. It made all of this even more real.

I'm going to be a mom.

The thought lodged in the back of your throat. You were excited, but you were also a little worried. You didn't know the first thing about being a mom and no matter how many books you read or how many blogs you found, you felt underprepared.

Not to mention you could still remember all the videos that you'd had to watch in middle school about childbirth that were made to scare students into being celibate and it only made your anxiety worse.

"What are you thinking about Petals?" Ben asks, coming around the counter and turning you in his arms. His face is twisted into a concerned frown.

Tears were building behind your eyes now, your emotions getting the best of you. It was easy for you to cry about nothing at all, but this was different. Your future was slipping through your fingers, unfolding in front of you in this house. It reminded you of how you'd felt for the past few years when all you wanted was to fall in love and be loved by someone. The lovesick feeling that followed you around as you tried your best to find a man who would make you happy the way that Hughie made Annie happy, but never seemed to find the right one before you met Ben.

"This place it's perfect, but-"

"But what?" Ben's thumb brushes the tears away, eyes focused on you. Whenever Ben looked at you like that you thought that he could see through you to the pieces that no one else ever cared to uncover.

"It's a house." You breathe leaning into his touch.

"And you don't like it?"

"No, I love it." You whisper, but you feel a little frustrated. "I can see us here. See a ridiculously big Christmas tree in that corner," You point to the living room. "See breakfasts on this counter," you gently slide your hand along the marble countertop. "See us watching movies in the living room on our couch and see our kids running around outside in that back yard." You gesture to the all glass back wall of the house where there's a finished patio and a surprisingly large lawn outside, but stranger is the giant greenhouse that sits just beyond.

"So what's the problem?"

"I mean… it's not what we talked about. Can we even afford this?"

You knew that Ben could afford it, you just weren't sure about you.

Ben is quiet for a minute, before he takes your hand and tugs you in the direction of the backyard. "I want you to see something."

"Something? The house isn't-"

"There's one more thing." He squeezes your hand and takes you outside.

There is a canopy of trees that shields the patio from the sun overhead that has begun to descend behind the houses on the street, the clouds turning a burnished gold in the light as it says goodbye.

The two of you follow the path of stones neatly laid in the lush grass, leading to the greenhouse that looks much bigger than it did from inside. It easily reaches to the second story of the house and has a black iron skeleton that holds together the pieces of glass artfully placed in different shapes and sizes.

Ben turns to look at you. "Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Do you trust me Petals?" He looks at you, his green eyes catching yours, wide and open. You knew that he knew the answer to that question, but you also knew that Ben never believed that someone like you could or should trust him.

You promised yourself when the two of you started dating that you would make Ben feel special each day the same way he made you feel special and made Ben understand that you loved him and you weren't going anywhere.

The things that Countess did to him still weighed on his heart, but you were happy to see that after one year with you, Ben was different. He was more open to telling you what he was feeling, (one word answers), he was more open to sharing memories with you, (only a sentence usually), and Ben was getting comfortable using the word "love." It had taken him a solid three months to say it, but Ben didn't need to say it, you knew it was true long before he uttered it aloud.

"Of course I do." You lean into him, your free hand coming to rest on his chest. There was a slight chill on the edge of the wind, a promise of winter, but the warmth of Ben's body shields you from the breeze.

"Then close your eyes." He repeats.

There's something dancing in his expression that you can't place, but your gaze travels down to his shoulders and you realize that Ben is nervous. You'd never seen your boyfriend nervous in a while, the last time was when he gave you the locket that hung between your collar bones.

But you do as he says and he brings you inside. "Okay, open."

When you do, your heart stutters to a stop in shock.

The greenhouse isn't empty. There are rows of citrus trees with lemons, oranges, and tangerines, apple trees with bright red fruit, potted blueberry plants, vegetables, and herb plants sitting on low tables, woven vines of raspberry and blackberry plants on trellises that cover the walls, and a collection of potted strawberry plants one of which is in a pot that looks a lot like the one that Darren broke when he came through the window of your apartment one year ago.

There's a circular staircase to the left of the door that would take you up to a second story where there are even more plants, but also a sitting area that feels warm and bright, and has a fan hanging over to make sure that it stayed just a little cool in the warm month. It would be the perfect place to read and relax, more so than the room inside you noticed when you walked into the house.

On the bottom floor there is a potting bench surrounded by flowering plants pushed against the right wall where new tools hang and colorful pots are placed. There's also an obscene amount of bagged potting soil stacked up higher than you are tall just to the left of it.

You gently lay your hand on the wood of the bench to feel how soft it is. The wood has been sanded down to be smooth as silk and you look to the right to see that next to it, is a identical bench but smaller with tools made of plastic for a child and a small apron that matched the one hanging from a hook fastened to the greenhouse wall.

Is that for-

The thought stutters to a halt. You didn't understand why this was here. A greenhouse in New York City wasn't odd, but the fact that there was one almost two stories tall and contained everything you might need to expand the farmer's market you had grown to love so much at the back of this house was odd.

There's a potted gardenia sitting on top of the bench and the bright smell brings the gentle comfort of home as the delicate flowers bend towards you.

Being in here is the same way you feel whenever you're in the plant shop. You could feel the new life curling beneath the soul, feel the thrum of energy from the plants that turned towards you expectantly, and feel the way your powers reached out to them to offer a healing hand.

"Ben, why is this here?" You ask confused.

Ben clears his throat. "You know I hate that fucker, but he works fast."

"Who?" You turn to him.

"Jake." Ben says simply. He's leaning against the doorway watching you with an unreadable expression.

"Jake did this?" You gesture to the greenhouse full of plants, enough plants that you would be able to supply the farmer's market each week without batting an eye. Now, you used the plants in your apartment, but there never seemed to be enough to keep up with the demand, but here-

Wait a minute this is crazy. This isn't our house. What the hell is going on?

“I thought you needed a little more product and he told me he’d take care of it.”

"But why was Jake-"

"I figured it out Petals, why none of those other places felt right." He interrupts. "I didn't get it before, why you didn't like the apartments we went to see, why you kept finding something wrong with them. Fuck, I made fun of you for saying shit like 'the ceiling is too high,' but as soon as I found this place I knew it was right."

"What are you talking about?" You still didn't understand why any of this was here.

Why would Ben want Jake to bring all these plants here if we're just looking at this house.

“I lied." Ben crosses his arms over his chest and rolls his shoulders as if it makes him uncomfortable to admit it.

“About what?” You frown.

Ben didn't like lying to you, you knew that, and you liked how brutally honest Ben was about everything. Trust was a two way street between the two of you, and just as Ben didn't lie to you, you didn't lie to him- well… Ben always seemed to know when you were lying, but that didn't change the fact that you didn't like lying to him.

“I didn’t tell Tina not to come today and we were never going to see that apartment. I told you that to get you to come with me.”

“Why?” You draw out the word still confused.

“Because I already bought this house.” Ben smiles tightly.

“You WHAT?!” You screech eyes widening. “Why?!”

“For the same reason you said Petals, it’s perfect.”

“But- But-" You don't know how to respond to what he's admitted. "You said we were just looking! That this place is-"

Ben shakes his head with a sigh as he takes a step closer to where you stand. "It's funny that I lived this long and still somehow happened to fall in love with someone a little more old-fashioned, but I fucking love that about you, that you're not like anyone else." He reaches across the space to take your hand in his, the warm calloused palm fitting perfectly over yours.

"What does that have to do with the house?”

"Apartments don't feel permanent, not to you, they feel temporary, but a house… it makes this real." Ben swallows. "And I want this to be real."

You blink in confusion, worried about him. "Ben, what are you talking about?" You squeeze his hand trying to comfort him. "This is real." Your free hand comes up to cup his bearded cheek, that prickles against your skin. "I love you. Nothing is going to change that. Not the baby or where we live or-"

"I know that." He laughs. "I mean this." Ben gestures with his free hand to the greenhouse and then back at the home behind the two of you. "There's room for our kid and for as many as you'll let me give you. There's room for Diana, and even though I know she'd rather die in that house in Illinois than move here, I'm going to try my damndest to get her here so she can be with you. I know how much you miss her. And as much as I hate the idea, there's even room for Annie and fucking Hughie if they want to stay the night." He grumbles with a sigh. "It's a good neighborhood, so I won't have to worry about you getting mugged or some shit when I'm stuck with that British fuck somewhere else, and it's close to schools that my old man would have probably liked, but I want our kids to be safe and have a good education."

“But-“

“I know it’s a house.” Ben breathes. “But just listen for a minute.”

You swallow the lump in the back of your throat, more tears building in your eyes. It was hard to be angry with him over something that you wanted as much as he did. And the truth was, you weren't angry with him for buying the house. It again represented the one thing that you'd told Ben that night at Vought, that you liked gifts that meant something, and standing here in the greenhouse that Ben had made sure was filled with enough plants to support your dream in the backyard of the house Ben bought not only for you but for your children, made you want to melt into a puddle.

Because Ben was ensuring the two of you had a future, that your children had a future, and you didn't think that you could love him any more than you already did.

“When I took you to Vought I didn't know any better. I was comparing you to the women I used to fuck around with and what they would have wanted, what they would have thought was special." Ben's jaw tightens and you wonder if he's thinking about Countess. "But I wanted to give you that life because I thought it's what you would want and because I wanted to take care of you, but I was wrong." Ben gestures with his free hand back to the house again and then looks at you, the sunlight catching the flecks of gold in his eyes like stars. "This is what you want Petals. This life. A house on a quiet street away from it all where you can garden and read and exist in a world that isn't fucked up with supes and compound V."

You’re speechless now, tears trailing down your cheeks.

“I’ve lived in a lot of different places and I forgot what it was like to have a home and for the longest time I didn’t understand what I was missing. I had money, I had fame, I had women willing to do whatever I wanted, and I had people worshipping me, but I was missing something.” He trails his thumb over your cheek again with a soft smile. “Turns out it was you. You’re fucking annoying, you get under my skin, you make me feel like a complete asshole when I make you cry, you somehow find some little thing to complain about when I do something for you-“

“Again why do you always sound like you’re insulting me whenever you try to confess how you feel?” You laugh, but it comes out more of a sob.

“Shut up.” Ben rolls his eyes with a sigh, but there’s not bite to his words. “You always interrupt me.”

“Because you always insult me!” You rub at your eyes with the back of your hand.

“I have told you on numerous fucking occasions that I’m not good with words!”

“But-“

“Shh.” He puts his hands on your cheeks. “You're so different than anyone I've ever met. You drive me fucking crazy. Any other man would have jumped off a building by now, but-“ He shakes his head with a wide smile. “I fucking love it and I'm so fucking lucky that you decided to love me."

"You didn't give me much choice. It was you that insisted on living in my shitty apartment." You breathe, your hands moving up the soft fabric of his t-shirt to rest against his chest. "I did my best to drive you away, but you wouldn't leave. And you call me stubborn."

"Nothing you could have done would have driven me away Petals." His hand falls to where yours rests on his chest, and gently holds your wrist. "Nothing you can do will drive me away. Not now, not ever."

The love in his eyes makes your lungs stop working. He was looking at you the way you always wanted someone to, as if he could see past flesh and bone and into your soul and saw your worth, as if Ben saw every little piece of you that you tried to hide and didn't care.

"And nothing that you've done will drive me away Ben." You whisper leaning in to him. "You can't change the past."

"I know." He swallows tightening his grip on your wrist. “And I know you keep saying that you don’t want me to pay for everything because you want to be more independent, and you’re worried that we can’t afford this, but fuck even if you told me you wanted to stay in that shitty apartment building, I’d buy the whole thing and make everyone leave just to make sure that you and our kid is safe."

Determination flickers in his eyes and you believe it, because you know that Ben would do anything for you.

"But I knew the moment I saw this house that this was what you wanted, that this life is what you've wanted. I know that you like to do things for yourself, but I didn’t buy the house because I didn't think that you couldn’t help me… it’s because I wanted to do this for you. I like doing things for you because I love you.”

"I love you too." You smile up at him a little misty eyed, but happy.

Ben's jaw tightens for a moment before he says his next words. "I'm not going to lie, I've imagined this kind of life before when I was with Countess."

You fight the wave of anger that surges with her name in your chest. You hated her for what she did to Ben and what she did to your grandmother, and wished that before Ben blew her to kingdom come, you had an hour with her to show her what it was like to get poison ivy shoved up her ass.

But it was unusual of Ben to mention her. He didn't often bring her up in conversation.

"I started imagining it after I visited Diana. I saw how happy she was with your grandfather and with your dad when he was a kid. I wanted that. But each time I tried to imagine what it was like with Countess, it never fit, something was wrong. And I know now that it's because it wasn't with you. It never looked like the life we have together and I wouldn't trade that for another second of fame."

"Ben-" You breathe his name, tears cresting over your cheeks.

"The moment I walked in the front door of this place I knew it was right. I knew this was the place that we were going to raise our children. I see us here too Petals. I see myself coming through the front door and you fucking tackling me because you can't wait long enough for me to close the door. I see us on the couch in front of the fire making love. I see you upstairs in the nursery painting the walls with paint in your hair even though I told you I was going to do it. I see you singing a fucking ABBA song while you rock our child in your arms. And I see you out here in this greenhouse doing what you love and me being happy because I know you're safe and I don't have to worry that I'm going to get home and you won't be there or worse." Ben's jaw tightens at the thought. "I want this with you for the rest of my life and I don't care if I sound like a fucking pussy for admitting that."

Ben drops down to one knee

"Wait what are you-" You begin to say, but Ben pulls a small box out of his pocket that makes you forget how to breathe entirely.

"So I’m asking you to let me give this to you and to our children, because I feel like I’m finally coming home and I don’t want to be anywhere else, just with you."

You stand there for a moment speechless, staring down at where Ben is on one knee. "Are you asking me to move in with you?" You try to smirk at your joke, remembering what Ben asked you the night he came home.

"No." Ben smiles opening the box. "I'm asking you to marry me."

You'd like to say that the ring is beautiful, but truthfully you don't look at it. As soon as the words are out of Ben's mouth you throw yourself against him so hard that he loses his balance and tumbles back onto the pavement, while catching you on top of him to make sure that no part of you hits the ground and make sure the baby is safe.

"Wha-" He begins to say, but you shut him up, your mouth falling against his so hard that you think that you hear the click of your teeth, but you can't stop.

Not when the man below you has your whole heart and had it the second you let him spend the night in your apartment all those months ago, not when he has been everything you needed for so long that the thought of him leaving would destroy you, and not when he is the only person in the world who sees all of you and asked for more.

Ben's body relaxes under yours as he deepens the kiss, drinking you in like he can't get enough, his hands coming up to hold you tighter against him, before he flips you over onto the ground as gently as he can so he's hovering over you. His dark hair is falling forward into his face, eyes bright with mischief, as he stares down at you.

"Is that a yes?" He smirks.

"It's a maybe." Your hands entwine at the back of his neck. "If you reconsider the hall pass option with Jeff Goldblum."

Ben kisses you so hard you see stars. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

"You know you love it, and I plan on annoying you for the rest of my life Gramps. You should get used to it."

"Do you promise Petals?" Ben breathes against your lips, eyes focused on yours.

"I promise. You're stuck with me."

"I can't imagine anything better sweetheart." He kisses you again, but pulls back with a unreadable expression. "Are you mad I lied?” He breathes against your lips.

“No. Because I lied too.”

“About what?” Ben looks confused.

“All of this. It isn’t what I imagined. It isn't what I thought falling in love would look like. It isn't what I expected and it's different than what I told you at that fundraiser.” Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck to hold him above you, refusing to let him go for even a second.

Ben's smirk drops into a worried frown that you kiss away, the warmth of his body around you like a warm bath.

“It’s better.” You breathe against his lips, watching the way his eyes brighten.

When he looked at you like that it made you feel like you'd swallowed the sun and it was bursting out of your fingertips. You never wanted to lose his lovelight and you wanted to spend the rest of your life being his.

The world outside the greenhouse falls away and you're left with Ben, the man you couldn't help but fall head over heels with the night you decided to take a chance.

A/N: I'm not crying, it's just raining on my face 😭. This reader and this version of Soldier Boy hold such a special place in my heart. Oh goodness I didn't think that we'd ever get here, but wow😊. This fic series wasn't just me writing, it was me being filled with the constant love and support of all of y'all helping me towards the goal and I am so grateful for everyone who reblogged, commented, liked, and loved the story just as much as I did 💗. I could not have done this without y'all. I am going to write a mini-series for them and I have some fic ideas for the two of them, so it is not goodbye completely, it's just I'll see you in a little while. Seriously though, thank you so much to everyone 🥰

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307

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@acciosherlockholmes @minas-fantasies @fireskyy

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@livya99 @cherrygirl444 @tulipsvanilla @angrydragon90 @chi-raz

#jensen ackles #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic #soldier boy/ben #jensen fucking ackles #jackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #the boys fanfiction #the boys series #the boys fanfic #the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon #take a chance on me one shot

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homelanderbutbig · 12 hours ago

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A collection of Homelander GIFs where he does that rapid blinking thing whenever he gets confused or flustered. Genuinely one of my favourite little eccentricities of his, I wonder if he's even aware that he does it. >w>

#the boys #the boys tv #homelander #my gifs #watching his brain short circuit in real time

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metal-beer · 3 days ago

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The boys :)

#the boys #boys night

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venus-haze · 2 days ago

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Your Name in Lights - Chapter 1 (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: Nothing could have prepared you for your big break, co-starring in one of Soldier Boy's movies and the undeniable chemistry the two of you have on- and off-set. [AO3 Link | Masterlist]

Note: Woman reader, but no other descriptors are used. I left the time period intentionally ambiguous, but it has some '50s/'60s classic Hollywood vibes. The actress you're replacing and the director are made up for this fic.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Period-typical misogyny. Implied age gap. Power imbalance. Soldier Boy is his own warning.

Sweat gathered at your brow under the bright studio lights, and you hoped it wouldn't show in the costume test photos being taken. You turned to the side at the photographer's direction, wondering what the hell you were even testing for in the first place. Your manager had called you at nearly five in the morning, telling you to come to the studio right away, because if you didn't, some other starlet would get the part. Practically everyone in the room looked stressed, from the costume designer with her furrowed brow to her assistant, hovering near the clothing rack.

"I'm sorry," you began, taking the dress that was handed to you once your navy blue sweater-skirt combo was adequately documented. Sleek, black, with a slit up the side. Obviously for a nightclub scene. You hadn't done many of those. "What movie is this for, again?"

"The latest Soldier Boy picture," your manager Frank said, following you behind the privacy screen toward the back of the room to help you into the dress. You'd long since foregone any sense of modesty around him, the only person looking out for you in Tinseltown.

"In what role?" You wiggled into the dress and peeked around the screen. "This is gonna have to be taken in around the bust."

"Are you kidding? You're the leading lady," he said, zipping up the dress for you.

Your eyes widened. "What happened to Olivia Yearly? I heard months ago that she was cast in Soldier Boy's latest picture."

"Stormed off set and quit. She's a real diva."

"But she's Olivia Yearly, and I'm—"

"You're gonna be a hundred Olivia Yearlys if you play your cards right with this one."

"I haven't even auditioned or done a screen test. How did they find me?"

"Audiences liked you in your last few pictures. It was the people over at Vought who wanted to take a chance on you," Frank said, letting you steady yourself on his shoulder as you slipped on the heels that accompanied the dress. Of course Vought had the muscle to get just about any studio to lend out their stars to them, who could pass up being in a movie with a superhero? "Besides, this way Soldier Boy won't have to share top billing, and obviously you won't be getting an Olivia Yearly salary, so it's a win-win for them."

"Frank—"

"Don't worry, kid, you're not getting stiffed."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

"They only filmed two scenes, small ones, from what I've heard, so it's not a big reshoot. You'll get the script this afternoon, the writers are changing a few things, a little less femme fatale, you know? I told them that's not your image."

You sighed. That wasn't your worry either, but Frank already had his mind made up. You'd only recently gotten fourth or fifth billing in your movies. Soldier Boy had been America's favorite leading man and a guaranteed box office draw for as long as he'd been on screen. It'd be a big break for you, the kind you always dreamed of. "Okay, let's give it a shot."

"Attagirl."

The script you received wasn't the most imaginative or groundbreaking, but it was good, a solid film noir that softened its femme fatale lead, the sultry Laura becoming the ingenue Laurie to accommodate introducing you to a wider audience next to Soldier Boy of all people. A sweet girl who'd become his partner and confidant as the plot progressed, eventually his lover by the end of the film. After all, Soldier Boy always got the girl.

From the moment he stepped into your powder pink dressing room, any notions you may have had about your co-star's clean-cut persona went out the window. The smell of marijuana took you aback. You recognized it, knew to stay the hell away from it unless you wanted a scandal that ended your career before it even began.

Still, you tried to be gracious and courteous, thanked him for taking a chance on you, let yourself giggle at the compliment he threw your way about how the makeup artist wasn't going to have a thing to do as long as you were in the picture. Except he steered the conversation clear off course. You supposed he expected you to be more naive than you let on, but you'd been around the industry to know better, tried to stay as professional as possible even though he kept pushing it.

"You know, if you ever wanna run lines, just you and me, I got a suite up at the Chateau Marmont," he said. "All the privacy you could want, get to know each other better."

"That won't be necessary," you said as politely as you could. "Thank you for the offer, though."

"Are you a virgin?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, it's either that, or you're frigid as hell. I can relieve whatever your issue is, sweetheart. You just say the word."

Your face heated up, and you turned away from him. "I'd like you to go now, please."

"Suit yourself," he said. "See you on set."

As soon as you heard the door shut, you reached for the glass of ice water on your vanity with a shaky hand and brought it to your forehead, staring at your bewildered expression in the brightly lit mirror in front of you.

No wonder Olivia Yearly quit, though you didn't dare imagine what he could've possibly said to her. But you had to try, if not for your own career, then for Frank's sake. He believed in you, even when you were just starting out in an industry that you'd seen cannibalize so many others. He must have pulled some impossible strings just to get you this role. You weren't going to let an unpleasant co-star ruin the opportunity of a lifetime.

Except he almost did, as you faltered ad fumbled your way through your scenes with him that first day. Frustration radiated off of the crew, and every time award-winning director Julian Garrett yelled 'cut', he sounded tired, as if he wondered if the movie were ever going to be made. They were all doing you a favor, especially the people at Vought, giving you a chance, and you had yet to prove you earned it. You knew if you didn't get it together, you wouldn't have another chance to.

Standing next to Soldier Boy by the facade of a made-up bar, you pushed your hair out of your face as a giant fan just out of frame kicked on to fabricate a windy night. The chill, the uncertainty, the tension, all set up perfectly for the scene.

"Haven't you ever had that feeling? Where you know something's not right, but you can't explain why?"

He nodded. "Sure I have, it's what's gotten me this far."

"Then you have to trust me, Soldier Boy," you implored. "Something about Everhart's plan doesn't seem right—seem on the level—"

"Cut!" Julian yelled.

Soldier Boy turned to the representative from Vought, hovering on set, probably a lawyer to cover any liabilities after the Olivia Yearly situation. "This is what you get for hiring some fresh piece of ass who doesn't know what she's doing."

Your hands balled into fists at your side. He said what everyone was surely thinking after having to start the scene over for the dozenth time, but it still hurt to hear. "I'll have you know my ass and I know exactly what we're doing!" you snapped. "Let's start from the top, Mr. Garrett. I'll get it this time."

The director sighed. "Alright, one more time."

When you turned back to face Soldier Boy, you caught a glimpse of his smile before it fell from his face in preparation for the scene.

The tension between you and everyone else on set fizzled out as you spoke, finally finding the sweet spot where you could match Soldier Boy's energy, your determination to succeed and prove him wrong far exceeding how intimidating you found your co-star until then.

"I really hope it won't take so long to get a performance like that out of you tomorrow," Julian said, looking relaxed for the first time all day.

"It won't. I promise."

"Better not," Soldier Boy muttered.

You kept your word, ran through your lines every night until you could hardly keep your eyes open, showed up on set early, even when Soldier Boy was an hour or two late, started getting on people's good sides, or maybe they were finally recognizing your potential now that you were only having to do two or three takes of each scene.

Despite your rocky start and the trepidation you felt about him, there was no denying Soldier Boy's charisma, how easy it was for you to play off of it. Then, between takes, he was more amicable, though you doubted his intentions were as mundane as wanting to get along with his coworker. But you found yourself flirting back when he did, telling yourself it was to keep up the chemistry between your characters rolling, even when the cameras weren't. Frank even told you over dinner one evening that industry chatter had already begun talking you up as the find of the year, whispers of your chemistry with Soldier Boy already drowning out the drama with his previous co-star.

During the second week of filming, the lawyer from Vought had pulled you aside to let you know someone from one of the big Hollywood gossip columns was going to be on set that week. You figured someone from Hedda Hopper's outfit, as she sung Soldier Boy's praises in her articles, though you read both her and Louella Parsons' columns religiously, especially after you were cast in the current picture, and public interest in you piqued. He didn't tell you about it to keep you informed, but rather to warn you to keep your mouth shut if you wanted your career to stay on the upward trajectory it was going.

You tried not to look at the unfamiliar woman too much, cigarette dangling from her lips, notepad and pen in hand, writing a sentence or two every so often. Her face was unreadable, but you tried not to let it get to you, not when the next scene was so important.

Outside of the same bar facade where you finally found your place in the film, you stood as Laurie in the black and white houndstooth coat you'd come to love, preparing to distract the two-faced Everhart so Soldier Boy could gather intel, the first big step in foiling his enemy's plan. Laurie was being thrown to the wolves.

"Soldier Boy," you simpered, "I don't know if I can do this without you."

"Laurie—"

Your eyes glistened with tears, voice breaking ever so softly as you placed a manicured hand on his chest. "No, I don't want to do this without you."

He took you in his arms and kissed you, deeply enough that you had to steady yourself on his biceps, that certainly wasn't in the script, but no one seemed to mind. "Be brave for me, honey," he husked against your lips.

"I'll try."

Again, his lips on yours, and you nearly lost yourself in his embrace until a loud "Cut!" tore through the scene.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from Soldier Boy. Your heart was racing. You could hardly gather the courage to look at him. It almost felt…real.

"Goddamn, I think that was it," Julian said.

"Should we do another take?" the assistant director asked.

"I don't know if we'll get anything better than that. Yeah, let's go through it one more time."

Out of the corner of your eye, the columnist scribbled frantically in her notepad.

The rest of the day, it seemed like you and Soldier Boy were on fire, requiring fewer takes as scenes grew tenser, more intimate—close-ups on yearning faces, the subtle brushing of hands, worried glances across the room. More than once, you felt your heart actually skip a beat when you made eye contact with him.

The movie magic dissolved by night, and a well-deserved day-off of filming awaited you in the morning—as did headlines that screamed of the latest Hollywood romance, spurred on by a photo the columnist had taken the day before, Soldier Boy and Starlet Sizzle on Set!

Starlet. You frowned. They couldn't have even bothered to use your name?

Small potatoes, Frank assured you over the phone when you called him about the papers, soon enough, your name would be in lights.

Vought was certainly pleased with the way you stole the focus from Soldier Boy's beef with his former co-star, all eyes on the two of you with just murmurs of undeniable chemistry.

"So, how does dinner sound? Anywhere you want," Frank said.

"Anywhere?"

"Sure, you're the talk of the town. Long as Soldier Boy's with you."

"Tell him it's his choice," you said. You'd make the most of the good press as you could, play his game within reason if it meant finally getting somewhere in your career.

"Alright, well, he'll probably pick you up around eight."

"Here?" You glanced around your modest apartment. Decently furnished for when you had a few friends over for drinks, though the striped wallpaper was peeling, and you were more than used to the smell of mothballs that permeated the air. "No, Frank, that won't do. Have him pick me up at your office downtown."

"You got it," your manager said before hanging up the phone.

By the time Soldier Boy picked you up, you'd already helped yourself to some of the bourbon you knew Frank kept in his office to settle your nerves. The drive wasn't too bad, he wasn't as handsy as you were anticipating, a bit disappointing, if you were being honest with yourself.

Somehow, word of your and Soldier Boy's date was leaked ahead of time, a crowd of fans and reporters waiting outside of the nightclub for your arrival. Its simple, sleek white facade would've been classy if not for the giant neon palm tree sign next to the actual palm trees.

You offered your best smile for the cameras, played up your relationship with Soldier Boy, giving him a kiss on the cheek and practically clinging to his side.

"It's been such a dream working with him," you told one reporter. "I couldn't ask for a better leading man."

As for whether or not the rumors of romance were true, "A lady doesn't kiss and tell," Soldier Boy said, his arm around your waist as he finally ushered you inside. The gaudy, tropical-inspired decor throughout the club was almost tacky, but you supposed it had a certain charm to it.

Sitting down in the booth reserved for the two of you, you felt like you just finished running a marathon as you settled into the plush red upholstery.

Soldier Boy looked at you, amused, "Just wait 'til the movie actually comes out, sweetheart."

A waiter arrived, asking if you'd like to start with drinks or hear the specials first.

"What're you drinking?" Soldier Boy asked.

"Bourbon, neat," you said.

"Make that two." He turned to you, his green eyes giving you a once-over, as if regarding you differently than he had before. "I wouldn't peg you as a bourbon girl."

"It's what was in my manager's office earlier," you said, quickly adding, "I don't make it a habit."

He nodded. "Good girl."

You didn't know whether or not to be grateful when the waiter arrived with your drinks, giving you an excuse to look away from him for a moment, flustered by the simple praise.

Soldier Boy waved him off after the glasses were set down, claiming you needed more time to look at the menu.

"Look, I know we didn't start on the best foot," he began, almost reluctantly, "but you're not half bad. And you kiss like you mean it. I can't tell you the number of times I've had to kiss a broad for a scene and might as well have been kissing cardboard."

"So I'm not frigid?"

He chuckled. "Hell no."

The two of you so engrossed in conversation, you'd forgotten to even look at the menu when the waiter returned, and Soldier Boy ended up ordering for you—as soon as the two of you were alone again, he muttered something about the drinks being the only thing worth going to the place for. The dry baked potato and rubbery steak presented to you on an otherwise gorgeous plate proved him right, and you tried your best to pick at your food without too much of a puss on your face.

Drinks kept flowing, and you switched from bourbon to your usual order, though Soldier Boy was outpacing you by a mile.

"How are you not plastered?" you asked.

"Takes about three times as much alcohol to get me drunk than a normal person."

"What's it like, being a superhero? I mean, I've met plenty of other actors, but no one like you," you said.

"It's a lot of responsibility," he began, his canned answer disappointing you a bit, "from the day I was born I had these powers, I don't know why it was me over anyone else, but I have to use them to help people, to do good."

"But what does it feel like? Some kind of adrenaline rush coursing through your veins? Is it something that just happens?"

"You asking if being a supe gets me hard?"

Your face heated up, "No, not like that, I mean—"

"I don't get whisky dick, I can promise you that, sweetheart."

"Have you ever heard of subtlety?"

He shook his head. "That's the limit of my powers. I can do everything but fly and be subtle."

Despite yourself, you laughed. Maybe it was the drinks, or finally having a chance to talk to Soldier Boy outside of a professional setting let you scratch just beneath the surface of the world's first superhero. Since his debut, when the country was in desperate need of a superhero like him, there had been other supes, each with unique powers, but none inspired the awe that he did.

Over the course of the conversation, he moved in closer to you, your space becoming his until you finished your drink, and he managed to talk you into just one more, his hand squeezing your thigh.

"The table service takes too long, I don't mind going up to the bar," you said.

He shrugged, and you took that as permission to go ahead as you slid out of the booth. Not quite steady on your feet, you made it to the bar in one piece, feeling light as you told the bartender your orders.

The bar's polished surface allowed you to see your reflection—and Olivia Yearly's, right next to you. Striking black hair with hardly a strand out of place, green eyes practically made for technicolor, and her signature pouty red lips, you tried not to swoon at the sight of her. She didn't pay any attention to you, of course she wouldn't, she had no real reason to, until you forced yourself to speak up and say something to one of your idols.

"Miss Yearly? I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm such a big fan," you said.

"Thank you. It's always nice to—" She raised a neatly plucked eyebrow. "Hold on, you're that new girl, the one in the Soldier Boy picture, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am."

"He hasn't scared you off yet? You can't be that desperate for a job."

"Soldier Boy's been a wonderful co-star," you said.

She scoffed, her upper lip curling in a sneer. "How much is Vought paying you to say that? He's the most shameless, unprofessional man I've ever had the displeasure of sharing a sound stage with, and I've been on a lot."

"I know, I've seen almost all of your movies," you confessed quietly.

"Then take my advice, stay the hell away from him, and that company, too."

"What did he even do—"

"Olivia," Soldier Boy said coldly, appearing at your side unexpectedly. "Surprised the place made an exception to its 'no hag' policy for you."

You nearly gasped. Olivia Yearly was a star. A goddess. An institution. Definitely not a—

"Hag? Who the hell do you think you're talking to you fucking—"

"Just shove it, Liv."

"You're digging your damn grave if you stick around the sorry likes of him," she shot at you before storming off.

He scowled, moving so he blocked her retreating figure from your line of sight. "Whatever that bitch told you about me—she's gonna be old news as soon as they see you on that screen. That’s why she's trying to scare you."

"Do you really think so?" you asked, trying to ignore the doubt that crept up on you.

"She sure as hell couldn't kiss like you can."

As if to prove it, he leaned in, his plush lips pressed against yours, the same sparks you felt on set flying between you. His hands on your hips, soft and strong as he pulled you closer, something like that couldn't be faked, not so naturally as the two of you seemed to do. Almost couldn't help but lose yourself in his embrace—until a camera flashed in your peripheral vision, tearing you from the intimacy of the kiss and reminding you that you were only there with him for publicity. You wondered if it could ever be anything more.

Taglist: @waynes-multiverse @youdontknowe @sl33pylilbunny @ladykitana90 @urmomissuperhotsworld @riah1606

#the boys #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #the boys x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy the boys #soldier boy fanfiction #your name in lights fic #jensen ackles #the boys amazon #the boys tv #soldier boy fic #soldier boy imagine #jensen ackles characters #the boys fanfic

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muldermuse · 3 days ago

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butcher crowding you against a wall and kissing your neck, his thick beard hair irritating the already sensitive skin

his thick hands keeping your hips firmly against the wall, not allowing you to grind against his jean clad thigh- you whine when you realise he’s stopping you from rut against him

#billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon #billy butcher imagine #the boys series #billy butcher the boys #karl urban #billy butcher smut

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snmenji · 1 day ago

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femlander says YOU'RE THE REAL HEROES 🦅💫

#the boys #the boys fanart #homelander

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little-wicked10 · 1 day ago

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Wanna Bet?🌹

Summary: After inviting her to be his date to some dinner, she finds out about the cruel and sleazy bet between Soldier Boy and his sidekick.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, cursing, dirty talk, body insecurities, self-doubt, Gunpowder and Black Noir being dicks, use of the word ‘fat’, body worship, mirror sex, overstimulation, creampie

Notes: I read this headcannon by @zepskies that really hit me in the feels. I deal with body insecurities, and I was inspired to write this for anyone that’s ever felt insecure or ashamed of their body🩷 Plus, Soldier Boy gives off the vibe that he’d like a thick girl😈 Prepare to cry and be horny (it’s a confusing feeling).

The reflection she saw in the mirror she didn’t like. It was too easy to pick apart every aspect of her body that she found undesirable: her stomach wasn’t flat, love handles, stretch marks on her thighs, arms kinda flabby, and her ass was too big. Don’t even get her started on her breasts. At least, that’s how she saw herself, a collection of undesirable, unattractive features. While some would refer to her as curvy, she knew that was a nice way of saying she wasn’t thin.

Fat to be exact.

Despite all the things she thought was wrong about her, Soldier Boy apparently didn’t. It was hard not to be intimidated by the supe when he approached her with that confident swagger, sitting on the edge of her desk. She blushed when he flashed a charming smile and began complimenting her.

“So listen, I need a date for this bullshit dinner in Payback’s honor,” his tone was playful, “I came around to ask if you’d be my arm candy for the night.”

Her eyes widened in shock, “Y-You want me to go? With you?”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to, sweetheart,” he chuckled, “What do ya say? Wanna spend a night with America’s Hero?”

Of course, she said yes. She’d have been an idiot not to. It wasn’t until she was by herself did she realize what she agreed to, and her stomach fluttered with anxiety and excitement. She was about to go on a date with Soldier Boy. THE Soldier Boy. The supe that has his pick of any woman asked her to be his date. She recognizes he probably asked out of convenience. She was the one female employee he hadn’t tried to or succeeded in sleeping with.

He wouldn’t want to sleep with her anyway. Why would he? Rumors around the tower were he had playmates and supermodels on speed dial, so why would he want to sleep with her? She was just a plain office employee that blended into the background.

A knock interrupted her reeling thoughts. Opening the door, a young man from Vought stood balancing a clothes bag and a couple of boxes in his arms. She let him in and watched as he set the items out on her kitchen counter. She thanked him as she handed him a decent tip. The poor kid probably wasn’t making enough to run errands for a bunch of supes.

Delicately, her fingers began to inspect the items before noticing a note attached to one of the boxes:

‘Pick you up at 7. Wear this for me, doll - SB’

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach seeing his handwriting. She quickly unzipped the bag to reveal a beautiful black silk dress, “Holy shit.” The boxes contained a pair of strappy black heels and glittering diamond jewelry. If she wasn’t in disbelief before, she definitely was now.

Looking up at the clock, she shifted gears and began to get ready. She was meticulous in her routine: shaving and moisturizing until she felt soft and smooth, redoing her makeup to perfection, taking extra care with every strand of hair curled. She hadn’t felt this giddy and nervous in a long time. God knew the last time she put this much effort into her self-care. While her insecurities still rested heavily in her thoughts, a little bubble of hope settled in her chest. Maybe he would find her attractive enough to sleep with.

It should have been more upsetting that she could potentially be another notch on his belt, but the way he looked at her made her feel so….beautiful, attractive, sexy even.

She didn’t stare at her reflection too long, simply glancing to make sure everything was together and perfect. She felt so beautiful and studying herself would only ruin that feeling. Suddenly, there was another knock at her door. Looking at the clock, nerves chewed on her stomach realizing he had arrived right on time.

She stepped towards the door and, with trembling hands, opened it. Leaning against the door frame, looking like the Marlboro man himself, was Soldier Boy. His eyes blatantly roamed over her head to toe, “Christ on a cross! Aren’t you delicious.”

She nearly melted into a puddle, “T-Thank you. You have great taste.”

He smirked before producing a rose from behind his back, “I know what looks good on a woman’s body. Usually, it’s me.”

He chuckled when her whole face broke out in a deep blush before taking the flower from him. “C’mon, sexy. Got a limo and champagne on ice waiting for us downstairs,” he smirked as he held out his arm to her that she quickly accepted.

All eyes fell on Soldier Boy and his date the second they entered the room. They all wanted to know who the supe had decided to bring. He encouraged her to feel up his muscles with a mischievous grin as they moved about the party. She was quiet as she walked with him, observing the charismatic way he interacted with everyone that approached. People were just captivated by him. It was too easy to get caught up in his charming smile and hearty laugh.

Her back stiffened when she noticed they were getting closer to Payback, one of the more nerve wracking tables to be a guest at. He must have felt her tense because he chuckled, “Don’t be so uptight, baby. You’re rollin’ with Soldier Boy. Have some fun.” She looked up at his forest green eyes, biting her lip and nodding with a smile. He suddenly stopped a waiter with a tray of champagne flutes, taking one for himself and urging her to do the same.

He gently clinked their glasses together before downing the liquor in one go. He groaned in satisfaction which sent her imagination running wild. God, was that man a walking sex dream. They finally stood around Payback’s table. The team members didn’t seem too friendly with one another. It was more like they tolerated each other, but that wasn’t new.

Soldier Boy released her arm to pull out a chair. She mumbled a shy thank you before sitting down. Glancing around the table, she noticed Gunpowder and Black Noir whispering to themselves before laughing. Doubt crept into her mind, body nearly closing in on itself, when a large hand rested against her lower back. Eyes darted over to see Soldier Boy smirking at her. Her stomach fluttered again, skin breaking out in goosebumps from the warmth of his palm. The look on his face gave away the fact he loved seeing her so flustered.

It was nearing the end of the night when he excused himself, “Don’t go anywhere, gorgeous. Gotta talk with the big wigs before we get outta here.” Her cheeks pinked, and she nodded, watching him disappear into the crowd of people. A content sigh leaves her lips, fingers admiring the rose he’d given her. She was having a great time, which she hadn’t expected. She assumed she’d be ignored the second they arrived, but Ben (which he insisted she call him) had been nothing but a charming date. Flirting and little touches that had her heart racing and heat pooling between her legs. It was like he knew the effect he had on her.

“Can’t believe I owe that son of a bitch a $100.”

“I told you it was a bad idea.”

Gunpowder and Black Noir’s voices caught her attention. She looked around and found them just a few steps away from the table near the bar. They either didn’t know or didn’t care how loud they were as they continued their conversation. Whatever they were talking about, Gunpowder was pissed off.

“You know better than to make bets with that asshole,” Noir chastised, “You lost $500 betting he couldn’t convince Farah Fawcett and Cindy Crawford to a threesome.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Looks like he’s actually gonna go for it,” Gunpowder groaned, “I thought he’d be too shallow to sleep with her fat ass.”

There it was, her worst fear. She felt like cold water had been dumped on her, jolting her awake from whatever dream she’d been in. This whole thing had been a bet? Her throat constricted and tears began to burn in her eyes, stomach twisting till she felt nauseas. She felt so pathetic and stupid. How could she have been so blind? It was all just a fucked up game, and she played right into it.

She stood and quickly made her way to the nearest bathroom. Her vision blurred causing her to bump a few people on her way out. They scowled and complained, but she didn’t notice. Once hidden away, tears began to trickle down her cheeks. Of course this had been a cruel joke. Somebody like Ben wouldn’t have given her a second glance if it he wasn’t getting something out of it. She leaned against the sink, wiping her cheeks and refusing to look up in the mirror. She could scrutinize herself and all her flaws later. Right now, she just wanted to disappear.

She took a moment to collect herself before exiting the bathroom. Quietly sniffling as she walked down the hall, she held herself for comfort or else she’d fall apart.

“Hey! There ya are!”

Her heart stopped beating hearing his heavy boots approach her. This couldn’t be happening.

“Thought you ditched me. You weren’t tryin’ to run out on me, were ya, sweetheart?” he teased.

She tried to pick up her pace and keep her head down, praying he’d take the hint to leave her alone, but he easily stopped her by stepping in her path. His original words were stuck on his tongue when he noticed her distress, big tears welling in her eyes, “Hey, what’s goin’ on? What happened?”

She sniffled, a sour taste forming in her mouth, “I-I appreciate the…date, but I think it’s better if I go.”

He blocked her attempt to step around him, “Whoa, whoa, hold on. Why are ya cryin?”

Anger bubbled up in her chest at his false ignorance, “Tell Gunpowder you owe him $100.” The statement stunned him, mouth hanging ajar in shock trying to think of what to say. “Next time you make a bet like that, make sure your fucking sidekick isn’t in earshot of your ‘date’,” she clenched her teeth to keep her voice from trembling.

She once again went to step around him, but his hand wrapping around her upper arm and swung her around to face him, “Wait, c’mon. Lemme explain, doll.”

She tried to pry her arm from his hold, but he was obviously too strong, “Let me go.”

“Just listen, will ya?“ he could hear her breathing become more shaky, heart rate picking up.

“I’m not listening to anything you have to say!” she choked, struggling to escape his hold, “You tricked me into thinking you actually wanted to go out with me. That you might have thought I was…attractive.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Ben asked astonished, “You’re sexy as hell!”

“Oh, spare me! Spare me the curvy comments or whatever bullshit you come up with! I’m just some fat ass you got paid to try and fuck, but it’s not happening!” the tears came full force now, insecurities exposed like an open would, “I’m so fucking stupid for thinking Soldier Boy would genuinely find me attractive at all.”

Suddenly, she was pushed up against the nearest wall, his growl rumbling down the empty corridor. Both his hands had her shoulders pinned, their chests only inches apart. “You gonna listen, or keep bitchin’?” the look in his eyes was dark. She was frozen in place at the show of strength and aggression. She didn’t wanna listen, but what choice did she have?

“Yeah, I made the bet. Made it so limp dick motherfuckers like Noir couldn’t get to your sexy ass before me,” he rasped.

“Don’t fuck with me,” she argued, “Nobody thinks I’m sexy.”

“Says who?” he quipped.

Her eyes cast down to the eagle on his chest, “Everyone.”

“Oh really? Everyone?” Ben suddenly took her hand and pushed it against the front of his pants. He chuckled and smirked at her wide eyes and small gasp, “Might wanna tell my dick that, honey. He clearly didn’t get the memo.”

He could hear her heart race soar, blood pumping faster to pink her cheeks and roar in her own ears. She looked at him in disbelief. “This sexy body of yours has been drivin’ me nuts!” he groaned, “You know how hard it was not to bend you over that table, lift that lil’ dress up, and fuck you raw? Fuck you like a woman should be fucked?”

Her breathing had turned to desperate pants the more he spoke.

“I’m a greedy motherfucker, baby. When I want something, I get it. Right now, I wanna touch every part of ya that you don’t like and tell ya why it’s my favorite,” his lips pressed against her ear, trailing down her neck, “I know what looks good on a woman’s body. Yours would look better naked and under mine.”

“B-Ben…please,” she gasped, clutching the sheets between her fingers.

His reply was the obscene sound of him slurping at her overstimulated pussy. The man had been making out with her weeping center for what felt like hours. The orgasms were beginning to melt together making her brain turn to mush. Ben planned to worship her body head to toe. He stood her in front of a mirror and told her to point out all the things she thought he wouldn’t like.

When she tried to look away from her reflection, he gently wrapped a hand around her jaw and made her look, “Nuh uh. Do as you’re told.”

He saw her eyes glance down, “M-My thighs. They h-have s-stretch marks. They’re t-too big.”

Ben was quick to spread her out on his giant Alaskan king bed to leave his mark on her plush thighs. He could have stayed down there for a few more hours if his cock wasn’t aching to be inside her. It was when he pulled away to let her catch her breath did she notice the ceiling was actually a mirror. A surprised gasp passed her kiss swollen lips seeing Ben’s back muscles flex between her spread legs. Her body felt too heavy to move, so she closed her eyes.

“No,” his voice was stern, “That mirror’s there for a reason, baby. Look at yourself, or I’ll stop.”

A pathetic whine came from her throat that was unrecognizable before she opened her eyes. She watched as he traveled up her body, his broader one obscuring the view of herself. She cried out when he harshly sucked and bit at her breasts. Her hands locked into his hair as she arched into his mouth. Ben made sure to kiss every stretch mark he found before leaving a deep bruise in the shape of his mouth and teeth. He pulled off of her with a pop before switching their position.

Before she knew it, she was laid on top of him, legs resting on either side of his to keep her spread out. She could see in the reflection his dick hard and leaking, twitching when he rutted his hips up to coat it in her slick. Ben wrapped an arm around her under her breasts to keep her in place as his free hand lined his tip up with her entrance. The way he was manhandling her had her lust skyrocketing. She never thought a man would be able to dominate her like that until now.

“Fuck! You’re beautiful,” he growled in her ear as his tip finally slipped inside.

She moaned and tried to move her hips down to sink more of him inside. The arm around her torso held her still, “Patient, sweetheart. Just keep watching.”

Their eyes met in the mirror, the green in his had turned black with desire. Ben nibbled her earlobe and neck as he sunk himself deeper inside until his tip kissed the back of her cervix. A mix between a strangled cry and whimper came out of her mouth as he stretched her out. She struggled not to let her eyes roll back into her head as he began to move. Unable to control himself, Ben started fucking her with purpose. Deep, hard thrusts nearly knocked the breath from her lungs. He watched as her eyes moved between his flexing arm around her and where his dick disappeared inside her.

“See? Look how pretty you are, baby? These pretty tits,” his hands suddenly cupping both of them in his hands, squeezing harshly, “This soft body. Those thick thighs. All of it. All of you gets me so fucking hard.”

She moaned, unable to look away from their reflection now. She was mesmerized by his words and the way his length brushed against that sensitive spot inside her. Every time he hit it, she saw stars. Ben attacked it like it was his mission. Desperate babbling rolled off her tongue as he fucked her with intense purpose. Her brain had officially shut off, too drunk on lust to give a damn about something like insecurities.

His groan vibrated against her back when her walls started clenching down on him, “Cum for me, beautiful. Ya gonna watch? I know I am.”

The band tightened, and tightened, and tightened, so close to the end but not quite there. She cried out in desperate frustration catching Ben’s attention. His right hand left her breast and trailed down her plush stomach until he reached her clit. He circled the little wet pearl with his middle finger in time with his thrusts. She screamed at the overstimulation and came, squirting all over their thighs and the mattress. Ben kept going, drawing out the electricity coursing through her until her hips started jerking away from his hand.

“One more,” he ordered.

“C-C…can’t!” she babbled.

“Oh you’re gonna, baby. I’m ruinin’ this pussy if it’s the last thing I do,” he growled.

He snapped his hips hard, slamming into that gummy spot and making her squirt again. She tried to scream but nothing came out. Her eyes finally looked away to roll into her head, tremors wracking her body as she fell apart. Ben shoved himself as deep as he could when he came. “Fuck!” he moaned as he kept rutting into her until he was completely spent.

She felt like she was floating, barely able to string together a conscious thought. Her body buzzed in the aftershocks of the incredible orgasms he’s wracked her body with. He carefully shifted them to lay on their sides, spooning her and not daring to pull out. He smirked at her trembling body in his arms. “Just relax,” he kissed her temple before glancing up at the mirror, “Good girl. Told you I’d look good on you.”

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axnqel · 2 days ago

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ⓘ ULTRAVIOLENCE .ᐟ I will do anything for you, babe.

─ pairing .ᐟ homelander x fem!psychiatrist!reader

─ synopsis & word count .ᐟ being hired by Vought as the psychiatrist for the seven wasn't exactly what you'd envisioned for your career. and captain patria falling in love with you? yeah, that definitely wasn't on the bingo card either. you liked him—God, you liked him more than you'd ever admit—but loving him? loving him felt impossible. it was like trying to hold onto a storm; no matter how hard you tried, it always slipped through your fingers, leaving nothing but chaos in its wake. | 4.0k words.

─ content warning .ᐟ slight ooc homelander, talks of narcissism, obsessive behaviors, homelander tweaking out, lwk stalking...., reader being quite literally the complete opposite of homelander, slight arguing but tbh it's lwk one-sided, angst, hurt/not really comfort, ending can be interpreted differently tbh, takes place somewhere in season one i guess.

─ c speaks .ᐟ tiktoks gone and i had over 100 homelander edits and i was only able to save 21. this is what happens when no one turns on their saves. in mourning fr. (edit: i deleted the app when it got banned. yes i know, biggest mistake because now its back??? like omigod), also try to spot the lana songs i referenced by name !!

Vought Tower was intimidating on your first day, though you’d never admit it out loud. The glass walls, the sterile halls, the feeling that the entire building is watching you—it all felt like stepping inside a gilded cage. You weren’t naive; you knew this job wasn’t going to be easy. You’d read the reports, seen the news, and done your research. The Seven were powerful, untouchable, and deeply dysfunctional.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t done anything similar to this before. You’d worked as a trauma counselor for too long and needed something new. But although this wasn’t that different from your previous job, the paycheck Vought offered you was obscene, and the idea of helping anyone navigate that kind of mess was almost too good a challenge to resist.

Still, the reality of it was a little more… intense.

“Try not to take anything personally,” Ashley Barrett chirped, with her tangy-pitched voice and her heels clicking too quickly down the hallway as you struggled to keep pace. “They can be… uh, strong personalities.”

Well, that’s lovely. You raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond, clutching your notebook tighter. Strong personalities. Sure. That sounded like Vought’s PR-approved way of saying absolute trainwrecks and fucking maniacs.

The first meeting was set in the briefing room, a sleek conference space with a long table that was seemingly just for show. Fortunately for you, this was just an introductory meeting, and you had extra time to prepare for the sessions you would have with the supes later.

You weren’t expecting them to show up all at once—if they even showed up at all. But as you stood near the head of the table, straightening the folder in your hands for what felt like the thousandth time. the door swung open.

And there he was.

Homelander didn't just walk into a room; he commanded it. It was the first thing you truly noticed about him. Perfect posture, perfect suit, perfect smile that somehow felt more threatening than polite. His presence swallowed everything else, leaving no room for anyone else to breathe. And when his sharp blue eyes landed on you, it felt as though the world was closing in on you.

"You're the shrink?" he asked, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Psychiatrist," you corrected, keeping your voice steady.

He chuckled, low and quiet, like he'd already decided this was going to be fun—for him, anyway.

"Welcome." He said, his eyebrows raising as he walked over to the chair at the head of the table.

You stepped a few steps over, but that clearly did nothing as he subtly scooted closer to you.

My, did you need so much strength for this job.

The job was not easy. In case that wasn't already clear. Getting the supes to cooperate was like talking to a wall. You didn't want to coerce them into spilling out every detail of their life, but you weren't expecting them to be so grounded. Maybe your judgement was just clouded from what the media showed you about them.

Luckily, your office was a calm contrast from the chaos exhibited in Vought tower. The decor was intentionally neutral-earthy tones, soft lighting, and a simple desk with your tablet, folder, and notebook resting on top. A pair of comfortable chairs sat across from each other, meant to foster openness. Yet, the calm facade of the room was tested by the personalities that walked through the door.

Maeve was... okay. She was sweet, closed off, and knew exactly when to stop talking. PR training had clearly blinded her.

Black Noir was quiet—obviously but did exchange a couple words through his notepad.

A-Train was clouded and very insecure. However, that didn't change your resentment for his attitude towards you. Goodness.

The Deep pissed. you. off. But you kept a professional demeanor. His misguided attempt to flirt with you and the exaggerated confidence almost made you want to punch a hole in the wall. Ha.

Starlight might've just been your favorite yet. She was sweet and willing to talk, and her soft voice made you feel safe.

However, when the clock struck 6:00, and Homelander walked into your office on the dot, lord, you might as well have fainted.

It wasn't that you liked him or idolized him. You barely knew of him. Of course, you'd heard the name here and there, but to be frank, you never kept up and your family didn't give two shits. But the way he carried himself and spoke to you, it made your heart clench.

He was surprisingly so open to speaking, but the more he opened his mouth, the more narcissistic he seemed. If you could diagnose him with a God complex, you would. He acted like some million-dollar man, though he truly was. It just seemed he wanted to be in charge wherever he went.

"Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I want to hear about how you're doing and how I can... support you." You kept your expression neutral, though your pulse quickened.

Homelander's smile widened, but there was an edge to it. "Support me? That's cute, but I'm fine. Really. The question is, how are you holding up? First day on the job and all." His tone was so friendly and polite, it confused her.

And it went on like this every session. He would come at 6 P.M. on the dot every Friday and the atmosphere in the room would become so charged. His presence was so magnetic, and his smile was disarming, yet the more he talked, and the more you listened, you started to feel some kind of way. Not anything you could explain, as ironic as that seemed.

And there was no kidding he felt something too. But your feelings were nothing compared to his.

He felt a burning desire for you the minute he walked into that conference room and looked you straight in the eye. He was willing to give himself up for you, and it felt so weird for him. Never in his many years of living did he ever feel this way.

Plus, you were just some ordinary woman. There was nothing special about you to the ordinary eye. You weren't a superhero or an entrepreneur. At the end of the day, you were just a psychiatrist, trying to make it through the day. If that was the case, then why was he so drawn to you?

He didn't understand—no—he couldn't understand.

And as time went on, this desire only grew stronger. Mutually.

Homelander began to fixate on you, quite unhealthily for that matter. It started innocently enough: more frequent eye contact in your sessions, lingering in the doorway of your office, showing up early for your sessions, or even walking you out of the tower at the end of your shift.

Being around you was like a balm for the constant chaos in his mind.

To him, you're unlike anyone he's ever met: calm, kind, and so completely human it fascinates and unnerves him. You were the complete opposite of him, and he never thought he could be attracted to that.

He's always managed to be in a relationship that was, while short-lived, with someone who elicited every ounce of his personality. Someone who was just like him. And maybe that was a good thing, who knows? But it only confused him more.

At first, he tries to justify it. You're his psychiatrist. His shrink. Nothing less, nothing more. You're meant to listen to him, to care about his feelings; he tells himself it's just your job.

However, as time goes on, he starts wanting needing more. He's tired of the patient-doctor dynamic. He begins asking personal questions, sometimes invasive, using his enhanced hearing to eavesdrop on your conversations with others, and justifying it all with the idea that he's "protecting" you. Problem is, he doesn't really know what he's doing. He's just trying to convince himself that his actions are worth being justified.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't notice the shift in his behavior and try to keep the professional boundaries. You remind him, gently but firmly, that the relationship is strictly therapeutic. But it felt like you were telling yourself that rather than the captain himself.

"What's your favorite flavor of ice cream?" Homelander brings up after a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you.

You shifted in the cream-colored plush chair, your eyebrows raised with confusion. "I'm sorry?" You spoke questioningly. The two of you were just speaking about his narcissistic tendencies and now he's asking what your favorite ice cream flavor is? How bad was his attention span?

Homelander smiled, but it had that edge to it. So much so, you couldn't even tell if it was genuine. "What is your favorite ice cream flavor? Come on, you've gotta have one." He tilted his head as he continued to stare at you, his gaze never averting.

The question was simple. Innocuous, even. What's your favorite ice cream flavor?

But somehow, it felt like the world had slowed down the moment he asked it. What?

You blinked, the words tumbling through your heads as if he'd said something infinitely profound. It was the question itself—it was the way he asked it. The casual tilt of his head, the way his lips curved in that perfect, effortless smile, like he wasn't aware of the absolute devastation he left in his wake. His eyes—bluer than any sky or ocean you'd ever seen—were locked on you, so unrelenting it felt like he could see straight through your skin. He could.

Your throat tightened, a mix of awe and panic, as if he'd plucked every coherent though from your mind and left you with nothing but the ridiculous, overwhelming knowledge that this man was impossibly beautiful. Lord.

It was embarrassing! Really. You weren't some love-struck teenager, swooning at the mere sight of him. But God help you, that's exactly what it felt like.

"Uh..." you stammered, your brain working overtime to catch up to the question. You barely managed to form words; your voice softer than you intended. "Mint chocolate chip. I guess."

His smile deepened, and for a split second, you thought he might laugh. Not in a cruel way, no, but in that teasing, playful way that made your chest tighten even more.

"I love mint chocolate chip." He said, and you swore the warmth in his tone was just for you.

And just like that, you were lost.

You walked into your office the next day to find a tiny red cooler on top of your desk, with 4 jars of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Homelander starts requesting more one-on-one sessions than originally planned. At first, he frames it as a necessity. "You know, it's stressful being me," he says with a tight-lipped smile during one session, leaning back in the chair like he owns the room. "I think I deserve a little extra... support."

You can't exactly argue. After all, this is your job, right? If he wanted extra support, he would get it. Simple as that. But even in those early days, there’s something about the way he watches you that makes your skin prickle—not with fear, not yet, but with the awareness of something unspoken hanging in the air.

It’s manageable, at first. He talks vaguely about the pressure of being perfect, about always having to put a show for the cameras, the crowd, and his fellow teammates. He doesn’t give you much, but to be fair, he doesn’t have to. You’ve worked with people similar to him before, people who hide their vulnerability behind bravado.

What surprises you, though, is how much he seems to want you to understand him.

And he clearly won’t stop until you do. Or until he makes you feel the same way he does.

It’s late—too late for anyone to still be in the building. You’ve been working late, reviewing session notes and preparing for tomorrow’s meeting with The Seven. The fluorescent lights hummed faintly, and the silence of Vought Tower felt heavier than usual.

You were so engrossed in your work that you didn’t notice him at first, not until his reflection suddenly became clear in the glass of your office window.

“Burning the midnight oil?” His voice was smooth, casual, but it startled you all the same.

You turned, clutching your chest. “Homelander—God, you scared me.

He stepped inside, uninvited, and you immediately noticed the difference in his appearance. His cape is slightly askew, his hair less perfect with strands falling into his face, and there’s a tension in his posture that you can’t seem to place.

“I was in the area,” he says, brushing off your concern with a shrug. “Thought I’d check in. See how you’re doing.”

The statement threw you off. “I’m… fine,” you said carefully, unsure of where this was going. “You didn’t need to come all the way up here for that.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s not trouble. You know, I think you’re the only person in this whole damn building who’s honest with me.”

There’s a rawness to his words that takes you off guard, but before you can respond, he’s already moving closer, standing just a little too close. His gaze felt heavier than usual, like he’s searching for something in you—validation, comfort, maybe both.

"You really care about people, don't you?" he asked softly, almost as if he's testing the waters.

You nodded, choosing your words carefully. "I do. It's why I got into this field. I want to help."

He tilts his head, his smile sharpening into something darker, more knowing. "Even people like me?"

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. You meet his eyes, trying to keep your voice steady. "Especially people like you, Homelander."

"John." He corrected.

You furrowed your brows. "Sorry?"

"Call me John."

The first kiss didn't come softly—it was a collision.

It happened after one of your most intense and deep sessions. Homelander's mask slipped completely; his usual smirk replaced with a vulnerability so raw it made your chest ache. He's sat across from you, his hands gripping the edge of the chair as if he's afraid he might fall apart.

"I don't know how to stop," he admits, his voice low and trembling. "This... this thing inside of me. It's like... it's eating me alive."

You're not sure what to say. For all your training, for all your professionalism, you're still just a person. A person who feels too much.

"You're not broken, H... John," you whispered, even though you're not sure you believe it.

His eyes snap to yours, and for a moment, there's silence. Then he's standing, closing the distance between you in a single heartbeat.

"Don't say that," he says, his voice sharp but desperate. "Don't lie to me. You don't really understand—no one understands. But you... you're different."

Before you can stop him, his lips crash into yours. It's not gentle—it's needy, almost frantic, like he's trying to our everything he can't say into you. You feel the weight of his emotions in every movement, every shiver of his breath against your skin.

And for a moment, you let him. You kiss him back, your fingers curling into his suit as you let yourself drown in the intensity of it all.

But then reality hits, sharp and cold. You pull away, your breath hitching.

"This... we can't," you stammer, stepping back. "Homelander, this isn't right."

He doesn't respond immediately. His gaze is locked on you, his chest heaving. Then, slowly, a smile curls across his lips—a soft, unsettling thing.

"You felt it too," he says quietly, and there's a glimmer of triumph in his tone.

You shake your head, and the pounding of your heart is like music to his ears. "This can't happen again," you whisper, but even as you say the words, you're not sure you believe them.

You tell yourself it was a mistake. That it was a moment of weakness, nothing more. But it doesn't feel like a mistake. Not when you catch Homelander looking at you during your sessions, his gaze heavy and unrelenting.

"I scare you, don't I?" he asks one day, his tone casual but his eyes anything but.

"You don't scare me," you reply, though your voice wavers.

He leans forward, his expression softening. "I should." He says, almost gently.

There's a part of you that wonders if he's right. If you're being reckless, selfish, delusional. But then there's another part of you—a darker, quieter part—that craves him. That loves him. Even though you know you shouldn't.

And that's the part that keeps you up at night.

You notice it the next morning—the way your mail seems disturbed, the faint smell of his cologne lingering in your hallway. It's subtle at first, easy to dismiss. But it only gets worse.

You find flowers on your doorstep. Your favorite, in fact. There's no note, but you know exactly who they're from.

When you confront him during your next session, he doesn't even try to deny it.

"You don't have to thank me," he says, smiling like it's the most normal thing in the world.

"John, this isn't... appropriate," you say, your voice firm but uncertain.

"Appropriate?" He echoes, his smile fading. "After everything I've done for this country, for this cruel world... you're worried about what's appropriate?"

You don't know how to respond, so you don't. But his words stick with you, planting seeds of guilt and confusion that take root in your mind.

You're sitting in your apartment, nursing a glass of red wine and trying to shake the feeling that you're being watched. The soft hum of the radio fills the space and before you know it, he's there, standing on your balcony like he belongs there.

"You left the curtains open," he says, his tone teasing but his expression serious.

"John," you say, standing quickly. "What are you doing here?"

He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he steps inside, his gaze locking onto yours.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he says, his voice low and raw. "You're all I think about. Every second of every day. And it's driving me insane." He's practically fed up. He could kill you, get it over with and maybe then everything will go away. But somewhere deep inside, he knows that's not the case.

You should tell him to leave. But instead, you let him close the distance between you again.

When he kisses you this time, it's softer, slower, but no less intense. And once again, you let yourself get lost in it.

The kiss ends too soon, leaving you breathless and unsteady on your feet. Homelander—or rather, John, as he’s insisted you call him—steps back just enough to study your face. His expression is unreadable, a mixture of triumph, longing, and something darker, something that makes your pulse race for all the wrong reasons.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmurs, his voice almost tender. “I’d never let anything happen to you. No one will ever hurt you while I’m around.”

You can’t stop the chill that runs down your spine at his words. There’s sincerity in them, but also a quiet promise, one that doesn’t leave room for argument. It’s like he’s already decided what your life will look like, as if the idea of you existing without him is unfathomable.

“I’m not afraid,” you lie, stepping back, trying to regain your composure. “But this… this isn’t right, John. You know it isn’t.”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, the mask slips. The vulnerability you’ve seen in your sessions flickers, but it’s quickly replaced by something colder, more calculating.

He doesn’t like being told no. You can see it in the way his shoulders tense, in the flicker of irritation that passes through his piercing blue eyes.

“But it feels right,” he counters, taking a step closer. “Doesn’t it? You can’t tell me you don’t feel it too. I know you do.”

You want to argue, to deny it, but the words catch in your throat. Because the truth is, he’s right. You do feel it. That pull, that connection, that overwhelming magnetism that makes it impossible to think straight when he’s around. It’s intoxicating and terrifying all at once, like standing on the edge of a cliff and daring yourself not to look down.

“This isn’t about what feels right,” you say finally, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “It’s about boundaries, John. About professionalism. And this—whatever this is—it crosses every line.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable. Then he smiles, slow and deliberate, like he knows something you don’t.

“You’re scared,” he says softly, almost sympathetically. “Not of me. Of how you feel about me.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. Because he’s not wrong, and he knows it.

“I think you should leave,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “This… this isn’t going to happen, John. It can’t.”

His smile falters, and for a split second, you see something raw and dangerous flash across his face. But he doesn’t argue. Instead, he nods, his expression hardening into something more familiar, more controlled.

“Alright,” he says, his voice tight. “I’ll go. But this isn’t over. You know that, don’t you?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. All you can do is watch as he steps back out onto the balcony, his cape billowing behind him like a shadow. He pauses for a moment, turning to look at you one last time.

“Goodnight,” he says, his voice soft but laced with something unspoken. And then he’s gone, disappearing into the night like he was never there.

You collapse onto the couch, your heart pounding in your chest. The room feels impossibly quiet without him, the weight of his presence lingering even after he’s left. You tell yourself it’s over, that he’ll leave you alone, that you can go back to your life and pretend none of this ever happened.

But deep down, you know better.

The following days pass in a blur. You throw yourself into your work, trying to ignore the way your skin prickles every time you pass a reflective surface, the way you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched.

The flowers keep arriving, always your favorite, always without a note. And every time you see them, you’re reminded of his words, his touch, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

And then, one night, you find a letter slipped under your door. It’s written in his handwriting, neat and precise, and your hands tremble as you read it.

I’ll wait as long as it takes. You know where to find me.

You fold the letter carefully, placing it in the drawer of your desk. You tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything, that you don’t care, that you’re not waiting for him to come back.

But as you sit there in the quiet of your apartment, staring at the faint glow of the city lights outside your window, you can’t help but wonder what it would mean if you did.

Would it be so wrong to want him? To give in, just once, and see what it feels like to be completely consumed by someone like him? Or would it be the beginning of the end, the moment you lose yourself to something you can never take back?

You don’t have the answers. Maybe you never will. But you can’t deny the tiny, treacherous part of you that whispers: what if? What if it was easier? What if loving him didn't have to be so hard? Would you still do it?

And somewhere out there, in the shadows of the city, he’s waiting.

#cece's writings #homelander #the boys tv #homelander x reader #x reader #homelander angst #homelander fluff #homelander x y/n #homelander x you #homelander x reader insert #the boys #antony starr #the boys x reader #ultraviolence #fluff #angst #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #queen maeve

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 days ago

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@pamwritessometimes

Oh my word stop, these are all SO funny 😂. The premise of someone trying to show Soldier Boy how to use social media is PRICELESS. The man would become a meme so fast (or get canceled LOL). And he one million percent would not filter anything he did 😂. I have no idea how you made this, but this was great and so in character for him!

✨pov: you talk Soldier Boy into making an instagram account ✨

Part 2 is available here

═════════ 𖤐🤍𖤐 ═════════

eagleman69 posted a story

═════════ 𖤐🤍𖤐 ═════════

this took me a ridiclously long amount of time to create.

but I'm not mad about it. 💋

Part 2

#soldier boy x you #soldier boy fanfiction #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #the boys x you #the boys #soldier boy #jensen ackles fanfiction #social media #social media au

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cheynovak · 2 days ago

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Fevered Confessions part 2

Characters: Soldier boy x Y/N Female character

Summary: Y/N got hurt during a mission with Soldier boy, Ben feels guilty and tries to take care of her. But the fever makes her believe she is imagining it.

Warnings: Mentioning of fever/wounds/ Memory loss/... -> 18+ later on in the series.

English isn't my first language.

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

**Y/N’s POV**

Pain lanced through my side when I shifted, drawing a groan from my lips. The light above was too bright, forcing my eyes closed again as I tried to adjust. Slowly, the faintest beeping became clearer—a heart monitor, steady and reassuring in the otherwise sterile silence.

Opening my eyes again, I turned my head, wincing at the stiffness in my neck. My arm was connected to an IV line, a bag of fluid dripping slowly beside me.

A hospital.

My stomach sank as I tried to remember how I got here, but the details were hazy—like pieces of a puzzle scattered too far apart to assemble. The ache in my head made focusing impossible.

And then I saw him.

Crammed awkwardly into a chair that looked about two sizes too small for his broad frame. His head was slumped forward, his arms crossed over his chest like he’d just given up fighting the uncomfortable position. The exhaustion on his face was evident, even as he slept—dark circles under his eyes, a faint furrow in his brow.

I noticed how gorgeous he was. Sharp jaw, scruffy beard, hair slightly mussed as though he’d been running his hand through it endlessly.

Why was he even here? Who was he?

Before I could ask—or even get my own thoughts straight—a bubbly voice interrupted my daze.

“Well, look who’s awake!”

I blinked as an overly cheerful nurse entered the room, practically bouncing. She adjusted the machines near the bed, glancing at me with a wide smile.

“Mrs Jacobs, how are you feeling?”

Jacobs? My brow furrowed. That wasn’t my name, was it? I turned my confused gaze to the man, who was already stirring, woken by the nurse’s voice.

She caught the shift between us and smiled knowingly. “Your husband here hasn’t left your side. Slept for days in that chair, even though we told him he could go home for a bit. We’ve got you covered, honey.” She winked. “He’s a keeper.”

Husband? Home?

I stared at the man, my mind reeling. The nurse noticed my confusion, her cheerful expression softening.

“Oh, you don’t remember yet?” she asked gently. I shook my head slowly, too overwhelmed to say anything else.

He stood up then, rubbing the back of his neck before crossing the room to stand beside me. His hand brushed against mine on the bed, his touch warm and surprisingly gentle.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice low and rough.

Despite the questions piling up in my mind, despite every ounce of confusion I felt, his touch sent a wave of warmth through me. My cheeks flushed instantly, the traitorous blush rising as I met his tired gaze.

“Hi,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, offering a shy smile.

The nurse watched us for a moment, grinning like she’d just witnessed something out of a romance novel. “I’ll give you two some time,” she said, before bustling out of the room and closing the door behind her.

Silence lingered as his thumb brushed faintly against the back of my hand. My heart thudded harder than it should have, and I didn’t know what to say. I was in a hospital, my body was in shambles, but all I could focus on was him.

**Ben’s POV**

"Who are you?"

Her soft scared voice lingered in my mind, didn't she remember anything?

"I'm... Ben."

Her gaze locked on to mine, she had no memory of me... Fuck.

"Maybe I should let you be for a while." I turned towards the door.

The way she grabbed my hand stopped me in my tracks. Her fingers, weak but insistent, curled around mine, and my heart hammered so hard it was almost embarrassing.

“Thank you,” she said softly, smiling that damn smile again—the one that sent my brain into a tailspin every time. “For being here...”

If she only knew. Knew how much I had done, how much guilt was clawing at me every second, and how I hated myself for almost getting her killed in the first place.

She shifted, trying to push herself upright. I was at her side in an instant, helping her sit even before she could ask for it.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my usual sharp tone cutting through. Irritation had always been my safety net around her; it was practically second nature now.

She looked at me her eyes wide, clearly a little upset of my tone, but her voice was light when she replied. “I want to clean myself up. I feel like I’ve been in this bed for a week.”

“Well…” I started, my lips tugging into a faint smirk I didn’t mean, “actually, it’s been a month.”

Her eyes went wide. “A month?”

I nodded. “A month here in the hospital, almost two if you count the motel.”

She was quiet as I helped her stand, her movements slow and careful. I grabbed the IV stand and kept it steady as we made our way toward the bathroom. She didn’t say anything, but I caught the subtle way her hand brushed against mine as she walked, and I tried not to let it drive me crazy.

When she reached the sink, she fumbled for the toothbrush, but I was already handing it to her. She started brushing her teeth, her focus on the task as I stood behind her, unable to keep myself from reaching for her hair.

I didn’t even think about it—it was a habit now. I brushed her hair every day while she was out, gently undoing the tangles, keeping it soft and smooth. It had relaxed me more times than I cared to admit, grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected.

She didn’t pull away, just kept brushing her teeth as though it were the most normal thing in the world. And when she was finished, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing, I put the brush aside.

That’s when it happened.

At first, I thought she stumbled. I reached out to catch her, steadying her against me. But she wasn’t falling. She leaned back, her body soft against my chest.

I froze.

Her eyes met mine in the mirror, searching, soft and unguarded in a way I’d never seen before. She was looking at me.

And then, her free hand—the one not tied up with the IV—lifted slowly, her fingers brushing against my neck as if testing the moment, her touch as light as a whisper.

**Y/N’s POV**

When 'Ben' started brushing my hair, I thought I must still be dreaming. The sensation was too gentle, too soothing, and too intimate for a stranger.

But it wasn’t a dream.

I couldn’t help myself—it felt too good, too real, and the warmth of his presence behind me only made it harder to think straight. My mind was still foggy.

The rush of heat spreading through me when I looked at him. Must mean we are connected in a way. What did that nurse say... Your husband. Was I married? I didn't see a ring on his or my finger.

Maybe he was my boyfriend? That would explain the sudden need for him. Or was it t just because of how devastatingly handsome he was?

My ovaries had made their decision the moment I saw him cramped up in that stupid hospital chair. And now, with his hand steady in my hair, I had no chance of resisting him.

Before I knew what I was doing, my fingers moved almost on their own. They slid into the hair at the base of his neck, tangling slightly as my palm rested on the side of his neck. His skin was warm under my touch, and I could feel the subtle twitch of tension there.

I turned my head slightly, just enough to catch his reaction, to see his expression. My heart thudded harder when I saw him already looking down at me—right at my lips.

There was hesitation in his eyes, like he was fighting something. And maybe I should’ve given him time, maybe I should’ve let him sort through whatever mess was going on in his head. But I didn’t.

I tugged him closer, guiding him toward me as my lips met his. Soft, warm, and completely addictive.

For a moment, he didn’t move, frozen as if he couldn’t believe it was happening. Panic shot through me. Had I just ruined everything? But then he groaned, low and deep in his chest, the sound sending shivers down my spine.

He closed his eyes, his hesitation melting as he kissed me back. Firm, slow, and thorough, his lips answered mine like they’d been waiting for this.

**Ben’s POV**

Her lips brushed against mine, and for a second, I swore this was a dream. Everything about her overwhelmed my senses—her warmth, her intoxicating scent, the softness of her lips that tasted sweeter than I ever imagined.

Heaven.

I couldn’t hold back any longer. I spun her around so I could properly touch her, hold her as she kissed me again. The second I did, she hissed softly, her face twisting in pain.

“Shit,” I muttered, realizing I’d pressed against her injured side. My hands froze, hovering near her, afraid I’d hurt her even more. “You okay?”

She nodded faintly, her expression forgiving, but we still stood too close—her face inches from mine, her breaths brushing against my skin—when the sound of the door creaking open yanked us both back to reality.

“Mrs. Jacobs?”

The overly cheerful nurse from earlier. She stopped in her tracks, her cheeks pink as she noticed us standing in the small bathroom, and immediately backed away. “Oh, I’m so sorry, but I need to take her for some tests.”

Y/N turned her gaze back to me, and it hit me harder than I expected. Her eyes were softer than I’d ever seen, a quiet smile playing on her lips as she nodded to the nurse.

“Okay,” she murmured. Her voice was still weak, but there was something steady in it, something different.

As she turned away, I couldn’t help but follow her with my eyes, watching as the nurse led her carefully toward the hallway. My chest felt tight, and not in the way it usually did when I was angry or irritated.

No, this was something else entirely, something far more dangerous.

**Y/N’s POV**

I couldn’t believe I’d kissed him. I had just woken up out of what seemed a coma.

But then, I hadn’t really been in control—my body had acted on its own, and the heat still simmering through my veins was proof enough of that.

The way he kissed me back, though… the way his hands had grasped me so carefully, as though I might break, while still pulling me impossibly close? That wasn’t a mistake, not some spur-of-the-moment impulse. That kiss meant something, didn’t it?

But there was so much I still didn’t know.

Were we really married? I couldn’t remember. Where did we live? What did we do? How did I get here? Every detail of my life felt like a blur, just out of reach, and the hole it left was unbearable.

The doctor tried to reassure me, claiming my memory would return over time. “It’s not uncommon, you had blood poisoning, and your fever started to cook you from the inside out, ” she said with an easy smile, as though forgetting your life wasn’t the worst thing imaginable. “It had been a while but just take it easy, one step at a time. You’re clear to go home.”

Home.

The word echoed in my mind as they wheeled me out toward discharge. Where was home? What did it even look like? My gut said it was with Ben—but why? Because of the kiss? Or was it something more?

All I knew for sure was that my life before waking up in this hospital felt like a blank page.

And somehow, the only thing I felt certain about was Ben.

Ben’s arm steadied me as he helped me out of the car, his grip strong yet careful. My stomach churned with anxiety as we drove through the countryside, the house we arrived at looking weathered and abandoned, like no one had lived here in years.

“Is this… home?” I asked hesitantly, still unsure what to expect.

Before Ben could answer, the door to the house flew open, and four people rushed out, their faces filled with relief, concern, or something in between. I froze, still seated in the car, eyeing them with caution.

“Who… who are they?” I asked, my voice shaking slightly.

Ben sighed, clearly anticipating this moment. “That’s Annie and Hughie, M.M. and Kimiko,” he said.

I nodded, trying to commit their names to memory, but it was clear from their faces I should’ve already known them. Something about their familiarity hurt, like a puzzle piece I couldn’t quite fit. Ben had told me I’d lost my memories, but seeing their expressions brought the weight of that reality crashing down.

***Ben’s POV**

She nodded like she understood, but I could see the confusion behind her eyes. She didn’t know who they were, couldn’t place the faces that should’ve meant something.

I’d warned them. I told the group that she’d lost her memories. Frankly, it was a relief Y/N didn’t remember. She didn’t need to remember the blood, the chaos, or the constant fear. She thought she was just an ordinary girl—and for now, I’d let her believe that.

When I helped her out of the car, she clung to me instinctively, one hand wrapped tightly around mine and the other on my biceps for support. I kept her close, letting her lean on me as I guided her toward the makeshift living room.

The others noticed. I could see it on their faces—the way they exchanged glances at how closely she stuck to me.

“M.M. here will come everyday to take care of your wound,” I told her once inside. “He’ll help with anything while it’s still healing.”

She nodded quietly, trusting me in a way that made my chest ache. It was a fragile kind of trust, like I was her anchor in a sea of uncertainty.

M.M. stepped forward, his usual calm demeanor softening even further as he spoke to her gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We’ll keep it private, alright?”

She looked up at me, searching for reassurance, and I gave her a small nod. “It’s okay,” I murmured. “He’s good at this.”

Reluctantly, she released my arm and allowed M.M. to guide her to the bathroom.

The second she was out of sight, Annie’s voice pierced through the air.

“What did you do to her?” she snapped, her tone sharp with accusation. I turned toward her, frowning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“She’s clinging to you, Ben!” Annie fired back, her brows furrowed with suspicion. “What did you do?”

I rolled my eyes, my patience wearing thin. Annie always thought she was in charge, the righteous little hero in every scenario. She made it really hard to ignore her.

**Y/N’s POV**

M.M. was kind, handling me with the sort of care you’d give a glass figurine. He spoke a little as he tended to my wound, his voice calm and measured, like he was trying not to scare me.

“This must be weird for you,” I said, breaking the silence. “Acting like you don’t know me, but… we were friends, right?”

His hands stilled for a second, and he let out a deep breath. “Yeah,” he said eventually. “Yeah, we were.”

The heaviness in his voice told me there was a lot more to it than that, but he kept his eyes on my wound, his careful movements never faltering.

I tilted my head, curiosity tugging at me. “You said you were a medic in the army?” He nodded. “For years. I’ve seen a lot of trauma, memory loss… things like this. But I’m not here to push you, okay? We’ll take it slow.”

The way he said it reassured me, though it didn’t quell the gnawing ache of not remembering who I used to be. My brow furrowed as I thought about it. “Was I in the army? Is that how we met?”

That made him laugh, a genuine, short chuckle that somehow put me at ease. “Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “We met through Butcher. He, uh… let’s just say he recruited you for his private security gig.”

“Oh.” I bit my lip, turning his words over in my mind. “That’s also how I met Ben?”

“Yeah,” M.M. said, his tone guarded now. I nodded slowly. “Ben…” I echoed, the sound of his name rolling off my tongue feeling natural, instinctive.

“He’s… a nice guy?” The words came out like a tentative declaration, the image of Ben brushing my hair flashing in my mind.

M.M. didn’t agree. His expression didn’t shift much, but I saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes. If he disagreed, though, he didn’t voice it. Instead, he worked quietly for another moment before straightening up, giving me a small, reassuring smile.

“Alright,” he said, his voice kind. “That should hold you for a bit. Let me know if it feels off, yeah?”

“Thank you,” I said sincerely, even as my mind wandered back to Ben. Something about him felt so important, like he was the missing piece in all of this. But if even M.M. had reservations… who was Ben really? And why did my body trust him so instinctively when my mind couldn’t remember?

“There she is,” Hughie said with a cheerful smile as I walked out of the kitchen.

My steps were tentative, still unsure how I fit into this puzzle of strangers who supposedly knew me so well. Before I could respond, Ben was there, standing quickly and rushing to my side, his presence steadying me without a word.

“Do you need anything?” Annie asked, her tone warm but laced with something I couldn’t quite place.

“Food, a drink?”

“Uh, no, thanks,” I said quietly. I wasn’t hungry; everything still felt too strange. I glanced at Ben, my hand instinctively resting on his arm as if that connection grounded me somehow.

“I’d like to sleep a little,” I murmured, suddenly feeling the weight of exhaustion settle back over me.

Ben nodded immediately. “Of course,” he said, his voice lower, softer. Guiding me gently toward one of the bedrooms, he moved with surprising care for someone as rough around the edges as he appeared.

“Take your time,” he added when we reached the room. There was a slight pause, and his expression shifted as if he were deciding something important.

“I’ll get the others out of the house. If you need me tonight…” He hesitated, his voice faltering before he finished. “My room is down the hall.”

I frowned at that, the subtle emphasis in his words sparking a thought I hadn’t dared explore until now.

As he turned to leave, I stared after him, my hand lingering on the doorway. “So… we’re not married,” I whispered under my breath, the realization hitting me like a jolt.

Everything—the nurse’s earlier assumption, the kiss in the bathroom, the way Ben looked at me like I was the most fragile thing in the world—had me questioning everything I thought I knew.

If we weren’t married, then what were we?

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