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thebiggerbear · 6 months ago

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"You're safe now, I'm here." - Soldier Boy Prompt Response

Summary: Soldier Boy has been on a ton of dangerous missions in his time, fought a lot of battles, but never did he imagine he would be undertaking the one you had just tasked him with. Shit.

A/N: This is a prompt from @sydnee-kom-spacekru. A sort of sequel to the prompt response for "Sleep. I'll keep you safe." Been working on this since January 3rd. I had way too much fun with this one.

Happy Mother's Day to all of the mothers out there, all of the fur baby mamas, and all those who celebrate!

@deans-spinster-witch this is what popped into my head when you said "dangerous mission" lol. Once it was in there, I couldn't get it out. I hope it's decent and that you like it.

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: Soldier Boy being himself; some misogyny; some homophobic language; some antiquated thinking (SB); angst; a lot of mentions of shit (yes, literal shit); language (I guess?); some smut; mention of breeding kink; a bit of a lactation kink (I know they did the Coke and milk thing in the show but you can't tell me he wouldn't have at least been on the verge of this kink if the opportunity arose)

Word Count: 11k+

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

SB Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith; @muhahaha303; @just-levyy

“You’re safe now, I’m here.”

SDV Leah version ✨ Russell Shaw version 1 & 2 ✨

Ben let out an aggravated sigh for what felt like the fortieth time and turned back to the table, his nose wrinkled. He glanced down and saw his daughter’s wide eyes watching him as she kicked her little legs, slobbering all over the fingers of one hand she had in her mouth. He made a face and shook his head, remembering when he told her “You’re lucky you’re cute, kid”, when she’d done the same thing about an hour before. He didn’t know what was so tasty about those fingers especially when there were other tastier options available.

Speaking of which, you just had to pick the fucking perfect time to do your pumping shit so he would be stuck doing this shit, in the literal sense of the word. Ben thought he’d been on dangerous missions before but nothing ever made him want to retreat in the other direction more than the one he was about to embark on. The smell wafted up to him once more as the baby kicked her legs again.

“Christ, this kid fucking stinks.”

“Language!”

He rolled his eyes and glanced back over his shoulder, though he couldn’t see you. “It’s not like she understands what the fuck I’m saying!”

“Ben! We talked about this!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, turning back to his little girl. “No cursing around the baby,” he mocked you in a high voice, smirking when a small smile formed on her face.

Another wave hit him and he held a hand up to his nose. “Are you almost done in there?” He complained.

“No! I still have a little more to go.” He knew that; he could hear the machine still making its weird noises almost as if it was next to his ear. He hated and loved that thing. Hated it because it was so damn loud to his ears and it ruined a perfectly sexy image in his head when he first saw you doing it. Loved it because it was helping your body do one of the natural things it was designed to do and it also allowed him to get some one on one time with you out of the house for the occasional few hours if you could get Elena or Queen Lesbo to babysit. As a matter of fact, as harsh as the sounds were and how unsexy it was, it got him downright hard sometimes when he thought of either scenario because both brought it all back to sex for him. Either he was daydreaming about fucking another baby into you while watching you or he was thinking about how he was going to be fucking you later that evening when the two of you were alone. This time, though, it was going to be neither.

You were getting ready to go out to have lunch with Elena, have some girl time or some shit. Whatever the fuck that meant. It certainly wasn’t what he’d been thinking the first time you mentioned it, which to him was a complete fucking wasted opportunity. He wasn’t into Elena at all or The One-Eyed Bitch Queen but he was definitely into seeing you get off. Just as long as it wasn’t another guy, he was good with it. But instead, his hopes had been dashed when your expression of disgust transformed into you pinching the bridge of your nose and explaining what girl time for you actually meant. His annoyance grew (and his nerves skyrocketed though he would never tell you that) when you mentioned he would be the one babysitting this time. He wasn’t happy but neither were you and when it came down to it, you were the victor of that argument.

And now he had this shit on top of it, pun very much fucking intended. Needless to say, Ben was beyond done at this point.

“Just change the diaper already,” you urged, your tone strained with the last threads of patience. “The longer she stays in her own mess, the more likely she is to get a rash and possible infection. Then she will be in pain and she’ll have to see the doctor. We don’t want that to happen. I’ve told you this time and time again and I’ve shown you how to do it. No more excuses, Ben. Just change it.”

Ben could feel his ire rising. “So you want me to do what you should be doing? I’m not the goddamn woman here!” He regretted it as soon as he said it. He heard you turn the machine off and he knew he was in for it now.

“What did you just say?” He heard you ask menacingly from the other room. Oh fuck. He knew he had about ten seconds to turn this around or the rest of the day and night were going to be shit. Worse than the actual shit he was smelling. He’d be lucky if he’d be able to sit next to you at the table later at dinner, never mind touch you again for the next few days.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, pulling a new diaper from the open package next to him and glancing down at the squirming baby in front of him. He was relieved when he heard the machine start up again and leaned over the table to lay down the law to his daughter. “Alright, look, kid, we gotta make some sort of deal here. You can’t be shitting up a storm and stinking up the place while your mother is out. Piss I can deal with. Puke, bad but doable. Shit…no fucking way.” He began to unbutton her onesie, screwing up his face in disgust as the smell slapped him in the face. “So if you really care about your old man and you want him to be happy, you’ll stop shitting all over the goddamn place. Got it?”

The baby gurgled back at him and he saw more drool coming out of her little mouth.

Ben shook his head, giving her a sharp look. The least she could do was not look so happy about him having to do this for her. He gently pulled her legs out of the onesie as you’d shown him how to do (he ripped one too many the first week she was home) and he frowned when he saw a damp brown stain, the smell becoming even worse. He lifted her legs and as he’d suspected, the shit was fucking everywhere, having catapulted past the edge of the diaper and down her back. He briefly shut his eyes and looked away, groaning loudly, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He attempted to take a breath that didn’t smell like he was wading around in the worst shit someone ever took. Like he was that little bastard Termite and he’d shot too far off the mark.

“Now what?” You yelled back.

“She shit everywhere! It’s all up and down her back.” He looked back down at his daughter. “Really?” Another gurgle. “Christ.”

“Yeah, because she’s been sitting in a full diaper for the last thirty minutes while you’ve been non-stop complaining about it, that’s why! Just get her cleaned up and into a new diaper, some new clothes, and then put her in her bouncy chair so you can clean the table. Or if you’re feeling adventurous, give her a bath. A bath is probably better.”

“Why don’t you come in here and fucking handle it then? I’ve told you, my sense of smell is about ten times what yours is!”

You huffed out an aggravated breath. “Because you have to learn how to take care of her, Ben! You’re her father for God’s sake. You should be able to handle one damn diaper change without being a child about it! What if I wasn’t here anymore? You’d be the one doing it all then.”

He straightened up at that, glaring back in your direction. “What do you mean if you weren’t here? Where the fuck would you go?”

“Language, Ben! Jesus!”

His jaw clenched and he turned back to grab a fresh wipe or five. He bunched them up in his hand and lifted the baby’s legs and began to wipe. There was so much shit, the wipes were filled instantly and it got onto his hand. “Fucking hell!” His daughter’s smile faded and she began to look as if she were about to cry.

“What now?” You snapped.

“It’s all over my goddamn hand, that’s what!” He bellowed.

“Well, wipe it off, get her cleaned up, then wash your hands.” There was no compassion in your tone, only irritation.

Ben should have shut the fuck up right then and there, and just done what you’d tasked him with. But, he was fucking done and livid at your obvious lack of sympathy. “This isn’t my fucking job! It’s yours! You should be doing this! Real men don’t change their kid’s shitty diaper! Women do!”

The machine shut off again but this time, Ben didn’t give a fuck. He’d had it. He knew you’d be pissed at what he’d just said but too fucking bad. It was true, whether you liked it or not. No matter what today’s society had to say or not. Women were the caregivers, the nurturers or whatever the fuck he’d heard on that bald-headed doctor’s show the other day, the givers of life or some shit. Real men did their job in making the kid, being the father, and putting food on the table for his family while also providing a roof over their heads. That’s how it always worked and that’s how it should still be today. He’d done his job: he’d protected you, knocked you up with his kid, and stuck around to be its father, even after finding out it wasn’t going to be the son he’d initially hoped for. And here you were, trying to get him to fucking play Mr. Mom so you could go out for a few hours and get some girl time that wasn’t even going to reap any benefits for him after you’d left the kid with him all afternoon? No fucking way. His jaw tightened as he heard you approaching quickly. He didn’t care how pissed you were; he wasn’t backing down.

But just then, the baby began to cry, having been scared by him yelling angrily (and probably because she was wet and uncomfortable and had been for some time now). He glanced down at her, his jaw unclenching and his features softening slightly. Fuck no. Ben could withstand a lot of shit (minus actual shit), and not a lot affected him, but his daughter’s cries? And because of him? That was his kryptonite. “No, no, no. Don’t cry, Princess. Daddy’s sorry he yelled, okay? He didn’t mean to scare you,” he quietly soothed. He went to pick her up to hold her, forgetting that she had shit all over her, and he only realized it when it dripped all down the front of his shirt and his hands and arms were covered with it as he balanced her against his chest. “Ahhh shit!” The baby began to cry louder.

You appeared, the top of your dress fixed and buttoned, a furious expression on your face. You held out your hands. “You’re safe now, I’m here,” you spat. “Give her to me.”

Ben glared down at you. He had been spoiling for a fight a moment ago but after the baby started to cry, some of the fury went out of him, and apparently right into you it looked like. “Listen, don’t get all pissy because—”

“I said,” you snapped. “Give her to me.”

Ben shot you a look but did as you said. He watched as you got shit all over you but you didn’t even flinch. Instead, you snatched the fresh diaper from the table and unfolded it to place behind your daughter’s poop chute before grabbing the canister of fresh wipes and a towel. You didn’t even look at him as you passed by him to head into the bathroom. Fuck, he was definitely in trouble.

He grimaced down at his messy shirt and removed it, balling it up and throwing it into the baby’s laundry basket. He made his way to the open door of the bathroom, stepping in to wash his hands and forearms at the sink as he watched you in the mirror, sitting on the edge of the tub and filling it with water, the baby’s own tub inside it. You were cooing at your daughter who wasn’t crying anymore but letting out little whines that threatened to extend back into a crying jag if need be. The baby was unhappy and from the looks of it, so were you.

He dried his hands as you began to use the fresh wipes to clean your daughter. “There we go, Ellie,” you murmured. “We’re going to get you all nice and clean, okay?”

Hearing your soft-toned reassurances to the baby, Ben figured now might be as good a time as any to try to start melting away some of your anger with him. He cleared his throat. “If you want, you don’t have to use that thing. I can get in the tub with her. I have to clean up anyway.” He gestured to his bare chest but you didn’t even look up.

“I think you’ve done quite enough today, thank you,” you answered, your tone full of ice. Yeah, he was in fucking trouble. Fuck.

“Don’t be like that. I’ve told you, my sense of smell is ten times more powerful than yours. I tried and it just didn’t work out.” He crossed his arms, his jaw tight. Why would you be fucking pissed at him? He tried his best. He got shit all over for him as a result for Christ’s sake. And he only spoke the truth.

“And what the fuck do you think this is? Chocolate? Paint?” You gestured to the shitty fresh wipes sitting in the diaper and to your ruined dress. That wasn’t what stopped him short; you never cursed in front of your daughter.

You continued to carefully clean the baby in your lap. “I told you when I found out I was pregnant that I would do it myself. You could take off and go do whatever you wanted to do after you held up your end of the deal. You could go get high, get drunk, fuck a ton of women, play at being a superhero — whatever. But no, you said you wanted to stay. Insisted on it, actually. I told you then.” You threw another freshwipe into the diaper and grabbed a clean one. “If you stay, if you really want this, then you need to be all in. Do you remember that?”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I am all in.”

“You call this all in?” You gestured towards the messy baby who had her hands in her mouth, watching her mother, tears still dotting her eyes.

Ben started to feel uncomfortable, something almost like shame itching at his skin, and he didn’t care for it. He dropped his gaze to the ground. “So I didn’t change one shitty diaper. You don’t need to make a big fucking deal over it.”

“Ben,” you seethed. “Look at me.”

He reluctantly glanced up at you, still annoyed.

“She’s your daughter and she can’t do these things for herself right now. Sometimes it’s going to be messy and sometimes it’s going to smell so bad you gag. And yeah, sometimes it’s going to make you uncomfortable, but you push through all of that because you’re her father and you love her no matter what. Because you want to take care of her, to make sure she is healthy and happy every single day. She’s our responsibility for the rest of our lives. It’s no longer about you, me, or anyone else. It’s about her. Just her. That’s it.”

He unclenched his jaw, hearing the seriousness of what you were saying, the truth he didn’t want to think about underlying your very words. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his daughter, he did, but why were you so insistent on giving him the dirty work? You knew how he felt about doing this type of shit. Not to mention, it felt like you were trying to shame him for not wanting to change one fucking diaper, like you were implying that he wasn’t a good father if he didn’t waltz into the nursery, smiling and eager to do it. He was a good father and a damn good provider. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t even have this place to call home. He was the one who sacrificed and played nice with the old bitch and Butcher. Hell, If it wasn’t for him, neither of you would even be here right now!

Ben hated himself when he had that thought. What the fuck was wrong with him? But since he didn’t want to look at that too closely, instead he turned it back on you.

“I don’t need you lecturing me on how to be a father. I am a good father, goddammit! Hell, I’m a better father than my old man ever was. I provide for her and you every single day. I gave up everything to protect you, be with you, and be there to take care of my kid. Which is a lot fucking more than some of the other dames I’ve knocked up over the years can say. I put my life on the line for you both! And this is the thanks I get? Because I didn’t change one shitty fucking diaper?” He scoffed. “You are one ungrateful bitch.”

Your eyes widened slightly and Ben regretted his words the moment they flew out of his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say those things, not to you.

Your eyes dropped to your daughter in your lap who was staring back up at you. You nodded and after a moment, you scowled up at him. “Well, since we’re such a burden and keeping you from your great life…don’t let the door hit you on your misogynistic and spoiled ass on the way out.” He could see your eyes shimmering but he could also see the absolute fury and ice daggers you were shooting him with, too. He knew then just how badly he had fucked up.

“Y/N, I—”

“I mean it. Get your shit and leave. I’ll do this alone just like I planned to all along anyway. There you go, you’re free. No more nagging from this ungrateful bitch, no more having to act like you give a shit about either of us, no more being weighed down. You’re free to go and get fucked up and drink all you want, Soldier Boy. Go knock up some more dames and then leave them to raise those kids all on their own, too. You know, like a real man does.” If your glare could kill alone, Ben would be six feet under right now, the one thing that could end him that the Ivans never found out about.

You placed your daughter in her little tub and stormed over to him, shoving him out the door. You couldn’t really move him but he was so caught off guard at your outburst, your words, that he moved where you pushed him. “And best of all, no more shitty fucking diapers!” You slammed the bathroom door in his face and locked the door, knowing it wouldn’t keep him out if he wanted in, but the message was clear. You were done and you were willing to go it alone; you didn’t need him and you had enough of his bullshit. He’d not only heard it in your voice, your words, but he’d also seen it in your eyes. That hurt way more than he ever thought it would.

He stood there staring at the door, stunned. His daughter began to cry and he heard you soothe her with “Shhh, it’s okay, sweetness. Mommy’s here. We’re going to get you all cleaned up and feeling better in no time. Don’t you worry, Ellie.” You began to coo to her as you bathed her and before long, she was making happy noises again. You’d even made her laugh once.

Ben stood there, not feeling right about what just happened or that his family was on the other side of the door. He could break it down if he wanted to, you both knew that, but he wouldn’t. Nor would he break the lock to get in. He knew he had let his irritation get the best of him and he’d said some things that he couldn’t take back, no matter how he might try to apologize now. Why the fuck had he said those things, anyway?

He loved the life you had now (minus the shitty diapers obviously) and the family you’d started to build. Hell, he loved you, something he hadn’t ever really felt before for a woman other than his mother. He thought he’d felt it once with Crimson Countess but he’d been wrong. What he thought he felt for her paled in comparison to what he actually felt for you. Not just for having his kid but also for loving him and not the suit. Yes, you’d gone to him for protection and yes, he’d done his best to take advantage of that fact, but something genuine formed between the two of you. Before long, he wasn’t just protecting you to hold up his end of the deal, he was also protecting you because he couldn’t bear to lose you. He was over a century old and he had never come across someone like you before, someone who actually saw worth in him as something more than a quick lay or a celebrity or a supe. Someone who worried for him when he left your sight or took on one of your would-be assailants. Someone who actually wanted to build a life with him — with him, not Soldier Boy.

So why the fuck had he said those things? He knew why. You had made him feel ashamed that he hadn’t gotten the job done, that he hadn’t completed the one mission you’d given him and you hadn’t even left the house yet. You’d had to come in and rescue him, do the task instead, and you hadn’t balked or even thought twice about it.

You were softly singing to Ellie and he could hear a couple of breaks in your voice, betraying how upset you really were though you were trying to hide it for your daughter’s sake.

Ben hung his head in shame when he heard you get choked up and stop for a moment, sniffling, before you started back up again. He threw on a fresh shirt and got to work cleaning the shit from the changing pad and this time, he didn’t complain.

Ben watched as you carried the baby into the room, still not looking at him. You saw that the table was clean and moved over to place your daughter on it, grabbing the clean onesie he’d set aside and began to dress her. “You’re still here?” You bit out though he could detect a hint of genuine surprise there, too.

“Still here,” he murmured, hoping you would hear how sorry he was without him having to say it.

You finished buttoning up the onesie and popped the pacifier into Ellie’s mouth that he’d left out for you. “Think you can manage to watch her while I take a ten minute shower?”

“Since when do you take ten minute showers?” He’d meant it as a teasing question, to try to lighten the mood a little, but you turned a glare onto him, beginning to unbutton the top of your dress.

“Forget it. I’ll put her in her bouncy seat and bring her in with me. You can go.” You went to pick up the baby when he held his hands out.

“I can watch her. Go take your shower.”

He could see the clear distrust in your eyes but you handed him your daughter nonetheless but not before you kissed her head. “Mommy will be right back, Ellie,” you whispered, stroking her back. You glanced up at him, unsure, but then turned to make your way to the bathroom, continuing to undo the fastenings on your dress. He let out a huge sigh when he heard the door snick closed and the shower start up.

“Daddy’s in big trouble, Princess,” he murmured to Ellie. She gazed up at him, going to town on her pacifier, her brows drawing together slightly from the effort. He smiled and dropped a kiss down on her little forehead. “That’s one thing you have in common with your old man. We love the nipples.” He chuckled under his breath, imagining just how hard you would roll your eyes and swat at his shoulder if you heard that. But instead, he heard a much more heartbreaking sound from you. You were crying…in the shower. Fuck.

At that moment, he heard a car slowing down and pulling into the driveway. One glance out the window confirmed it was Elena. In the midst of all this, he’d forgotten you had plans for the day. Just then, he got an idea and hurried towards the front door. He had just reached it by the time Elena was about to push the doorbell. He whipped it open, making her jump in surprise. After she saw it was Ben with the baby in tow, she recovered quickly. “Oh, hey Ben. Is Y/N ready yet? Hi, Ellie.” She gave a tiny wave to your daughter, smiling.

“Uh, not yet. She’s in the shower. Hey, can you watch Ellie for a few? I’ve got something I need to do and I can’t take her with me.”

Elena seemed uncertain for a moment, studying him as if she were wondering what he was about to do, but then relented with a shrug. “Sure.” He opened the door wider for her to come in and once she had put her coat and purse on a chair, he handed Ellie over to her.

“Thanks. Be right back, Princess.” He stroked the back of the baby’s head with his fingers before hurrying out of the room, intent on doing whatever he had to in order to make things right.

Ben quietly slipped into the bathroom, undressed, and snuck into the shower behind you. You had stopped crying after the doorbell sounded so you most likely knew Elena was here and waiting. You were rubbing suds-covered hands all over the front of your body.

While you cleaned your front, Ben’s eyes roamed over your back. He was already predictably hard, just seeing you naked. You had the perfect ass and even though you still had some baby weight that you were trying to lose, in his eyes, you were fucking gorgeous. You had mournfully admitted a couple of weeks ago that your stomach was soft and you were embarrassed by the visible stretch marks and your wider hips, not to mention the few pounds sticking around. Your breasts were bigger (something he didn’t see as a problem), the areolas darker than ever before, and you were feeling a bit insecure about your new shape. He loved the new you, which he made sure to tell you over and over as he fucked you that night. You were the mother of his kid, you’d given birth to her, nourished her from your body, and you could give him even more. It endlessly fascinated him that his seed had taken root in you and a healthy child grew from it, one that was half you and half him. He’d literally fucked a baby into you and every time he saw you like this, he wanted to do it again (though you’d told him your body needed at least a year or two to recuperate before you could even entertain the idea of another pregnancy). You looked so fucking gorgeous carrying his kid and now, you were even more beautiful if that was possible. It was pure beauty that he saw when you breastfed his daughter, when you smiled down at her, talked to her, and rocked her to sleep. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t want you, on your back (or your hands and knees, he wasn’t picky), taking load after load from him until he knocked you up once more.

So he had been dumbfounded and almost incredulous when you nervously admitted all of this to him, implying that maybe he didn’t find you attractive anymore and maybe he’d prefer a flat-stomached, tighter, younger, free-to-bang-all-day woman instead. That or some old lady. He’d fucked that notion right out of your head.

But now as he stepped toward you, not only was he incredibly turned on by you and how beautiful he still thought you were, but he also realized right then, just like he had many times before this moment, you were the only one he wanted. He wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your wet shoulder.

You let out a small gasp in surprise. “Where’s Ellie?”

“Elena’s got her.”

“Well, I’m not doing anything with you in this shower so you might as well get out,” you snapped and attempted to wriggle out of his embrace. When you couldn’t, you huffed out an aggravated breath and went back to rubbing soap over your skin.

He nosed your wet hair out of the way to get closer to your ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never should’ve said that shit.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” you muttered, gliding soap down your arms.

“I love you,” he murmured to the skin of your neck before dropping a kiss. “I love my little princess.” Another kiss. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Really? Because it sounds like you want to be somewhere else.”

“No, I don’t,” he assured. “I told you when I knocked you up. You two are it for me.”

You slowed down your movements and he took the opportunity to hug you a little tighter, burying his nose underneath your jaw. “I mean it, doll. This is right where I want to be.” He slowly ground his erection into the small of your back to also illustrate his point. He meant every fucking word; with you, around you, in you — there was no other place he’d rather be.

You attempted to turn around in his arms and he loosened his grip so you could. He nearly let out a soft groan at the feel of your soap-slicked skin sliding against his dick. You stared up into his eyes and the smirk that formed on his face was beyond dirty, thinking you two were about to get to the fun part, your argument a thing of the past when you cupped his bearded cheeks in your suds-covered hands.

“Ben,” you whispered. “I need to know that if something happens to me…that you’ve got this with Ellie.”

Ben’s grin morphed into a frown and his brows furrowed. “What the fuck are you talking about? What do you mean if something happens to you?”

Your eyes began to glisten and his heart dropped inside his chest. What the fuck hadn’t you told him?

“Did some cocksucker threaten you?” He growled menacingly, the rage he worked so hard to tamp down for yours and Ellie’s sakes was attempting to breach the surface at the thought of someone even thinking about hurting you. Mallory had said you’d be safe here; had the old bitch lied?

You shook your head and that only helped to quell the fire burning deep within slightly. A light appeared on your face and you glanced down as it got brighter, eyes wide in fear. “Your chest is glowing. Ben, stop! You need to calm down.”

He took deep breaths as he’d learned to do, telling himself that you were here in his arms, right now, and you were safe. You were not in any danger. Hearing the sounds of his daughter a few rooms away helped him to get this fucking thing inside of him under control. He hated it, hated what the Reds had done to him, but it was now forever a part of him. He would do whatever it took to keep you both safe, even from this goddamn weapon inside his chest.

When you met his eyes again, there was no more light, no more glow lighting up your face from below. You lifted yourself up on your toes and brushed your lips against his. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Ben nodded and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you up against him. He nuzzled you, feeling much calmer than he had a few moments before, but he still saw the same worry in your gaze that he’d seen before his inner nuke started to fire up. “Talk to me,” he implored.

You pressed your lips together and briefly looked away and he knew you didn’t really want to say what you were about to. It made him incredibly nervous. While you two had argued before and you’d told him to go when he was being an ass…what if what you meant was that you wanted out of this? Fear immediately took hold of him — fear of losing you, fear of losing Ellie, and all because he’d been a stupid fuck who couldn’t keep his mouth shut. You both were the two best things that had ever happened to him since being injected with Compound V. He didn’t want to go back to before. He only wanted now and the two of you. Hell, he wanted to keep creating a family with you, the family he’d always desired but never had. What had seemed within his grasp just hours ago now seemed to be getting further and further away.

That thought had him speaking — no, downright begging. Soldier Boy begging…only for you. “Look, I know I’ve been a dick and I said some really fucked up shit earlier but I didn’t—”

You gently placed your fingers against his lips, effectively stopping him. You stared up at him sadly and that fear kicked into high gear. Fuck, he was losing you. And all because he hadn’t been able to keep his goddamn mouth shut or change one fucking dirty diaper. He’d fucking failed and now he was going to lose you and that dream he wanted to realize with you all in one swoop. All because he really was America’s Asshole.

But when you finally spoke, you said the last thing he expected. “I spent months running from Vought’s death squads before I found you. Even with you protecting me, even after I got pregnant, I was still in danger because they wanted me dead.” Your voice broke on the last word, betraying the tears that were imminent, along with the shimmering in your eyes getting worse.

His brows drew together in concern but he gently grasped your chin, making sure that you not only continued looking at him but that you heard every word he was about to say. “But you’re safe now,” he murmured. “Vought’s gone, Edgar and Homelander are dead…I would never let anything happen to you.”

Tears began to roll down your cheeks. “I know, but I keep thinking what if something goes wrong? What if one of the supes out there finds us? What if they get wind that I’m still alive? What if the surviving board members decide that I’m still a liability?”

He shook his head, moving his thumb up to stroke your cheek reassuringly. “No one survived. I made sure of it.” He placed his forehead down onto yours. “I promised I’d keep you safe, you both safe, and I did.” Ben tenderly rubbed his nose along yours. “Still do.”

He was slightly relieved that you weren’t thinking of leaving him but also unhappy that you had still been worrying about this all of this time and he hadn’t had a clue. He was going to do whatever it took to reassure you, to remind you that you were safe and that you no longer needed to worry about any of those pricks that you’d had to run from before. He still remembered the nightmares you’d had, the jumps and startles in the middle of the night at the slightest sound. Eventually, it prompted him to hold you when you went to bed, promising to keep you safe so you could get some sleep while he kept watch. You would finally relax in his arms and close your eyes, content to listen to his strong heartbeat underneath your ear, knowing you were indeed protected.

Sure, you’d kept your end of the deal and let him fuck you once you’d gotten some rest from running nonstop, but instead of getting bored like he usually did after hitting the same pussy a couple of different times, he’d actually started to like you. So he’d kept you close while he turned the hunt around to make Onehander, Edgar, and all of those assholes the prey instead. When he found out you were carrying his kid, he decided he’d do whatever it took to make you both safe and even ended up teaming up with the Brit and his team again, though he still didn’t trust them. Hell, he’d even made a deal with them to settle in this area and get you this house when you’d told him you wanted a home for your child to grow safely up in, to put down roots. He’d put up with your nearby neighbors, with having to see the One-Eyed-WonderBitch again, and shifting from the Supe life to suburban life (which was not an easy transition for him by any means). He did it all for you…for you and Ellie and the family you had chosen to have with him.

So to see now that after everything, you still didn’t feel completely safe, well…that bothered him. What kind of man had he been for you to keep feeling scared that Vought might come back at any moment to haunt you? He’d never given you details of the day that he’d annihilated them all for you because he knew you didn’t want them, but maybe he should have. If he had, maybe that would’ve helped to allay your fears of any possible reprisals.

“I know you do,” you broke into his thoughts. “But…what if something else happens? What if I get sick or get hit by a car or I have an accident and fall or I have a medical emergency that could be fatal or—”

“Hey,” he interrupted your rambling. “You’re spiraling.” Something you’d done quite a bit when you first met. His heart sunk at the thought; this had gotten to that point and he hadn’t had one goddamn clue. He’d been so wrapped up in you and Ellie and the life you were building that he hadn’t even seen it. Maybe his father had been right; he was a fuck up. An assertion by the old man that you’d unknowingly been dismantling every single day with how much you loved and believed in Ben, but now…now he felt as if he didn’t deserve you. He watched more tears spill down your cheeks and he knew he definitely didn’t; here was the proof.

“I know,” you sobbed. “I’m sorry. I just…” You took in a ragged breath and looked into his eyes, your bottom lip starting to wobble. “I need to know that if something happens to me, that you’ll take care of Ellie the way she needs to be taken care of. If I’m gone, she’s going to need you and I need to know that she’ll be okay.”

He tried his best not to be insulted, not to show it for your sake so he wouldn’t upset you anymore than you already were, but it stung his ego a bit. “Of course, she would be okay. I’ve kept her safe this long, haven’t I?”

“I’m not just talking about safety, Ben. I’m talking about you actually taking care of her. Not just providing for her, but actually being there for her whenever she needs you. Like the diaper change I asked you to do today. Is it disgusting? Sure. No one likes dealing with it, smelling shit, getting it all over you…but she’s your daughter and she needed you to take care of it for her. What if I had gone for breakfast with Elena instead? Would she have sat in her own crap until I came back home because you feel as a man that it’s beneath you to change your own daughter’s diaper?” More tears appeared. “What if something had happened to me while I was out? Would you just push Ellie onto Elena and Maggie to take care of her so you could go back to your old life? All so you wouldn’t have to do any of the messy or hard stuff? Would you abandon her just like that?”

“Of course not,” he snapped, his consideration for you now forgotten in the face of what you’d said. “How the fuck could you even think I would do something like that? Haven’t I been here through everything like I fucking said I would be?”

“Yes, but I’ve been doing everything!” The words burst out of you. “At first, you didn’t want to feed her, burp her, bathe her — any of it! And I did it all! Why? Because that was supposed to be the woman’s job you’d said!”

Ben could feel his temper flaring at you bringing that up. You were also intimating that he didn’t do anything for your daughter. Were you blind to all of the effort he had put in to help you raise Ellie since that fight you’d had a couple of weeks after she’d been born? Didn’t you realize that most mornings you woke up well rested was because he’d gotten up with the baby in the middle of the night so you wouldn’t have to? And you were still holding that shit over his head? What the fuck was wrong with you? “That was the way it was back then,” he growled out. “I told you that! And I’ve been doing all of that shit you just mentioned since then! So I didn’t change one shitty diaper today! I said I was sorry! When are you going to fucking let it go?”

Instead of responding, you exploded into more sobs and shame churned in his gut. He really fucking hated seeing either of his girls cry. It made him want to beat the ever loving shit out of some son of a bitch. Even if he happened to be said son of a bitch sometimes.

“Christ,” he muttered. “C’mere.” He pulled you to him and you held onto him tightly, crying into his neck. His hand slid down your back in a tender caress and he pressed his lips to your hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to you.

He kept you in his arms, hoisted you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist, and let you get it all out. He even shut the water off, knowing the temperature had vastly cooled in the amount of time he’d been in there with you so far. He vaguely recalled his plan from earlier to join you, apologize for what he’d said during your argument, and begin making up with you. That obviously had gone to shit; there would be no making up happening now, that was for sure. And if anything would get his dick to go soft with you naked against him, it was the sound of you crying.

Once your sobs quieted down and turned into ragged inhales and a few sniffles here and there, he moved your hair out of the way so he could see you. “Better?”

You nodded, sniffling as you looked up at him. “Yeah.”

“Okay, let’s get you out of this tub then and get you dried off.” He placed a kiss on your forehead and went to open the shower curtain.

“Ben?”

He froze and turned to look at you.

You lifted your head, letting out another sniffle. “I’m sorry, too.” Before he could say anything, you continued. “I know you’ve been trying and you’ve been doing everything I asked you to with Ellie. I just…I freaked out about the diaper thing.” You wiped at your face. “Because it just brought back that worry, that fear I have of what would happen to her if I wasn’t here.” Your voice wobbled slightly but you forged ahead anyway. “You know, I wasn’t scared like this when I was being hunted down. I mean, I was, but not like this. Back then, I only had myself to worry about. And then when I got pregnant, sure, I was a little more scared but I also knew you’d keep us safe.” You took another ragged breath in. “But ever since she’s been born, I have been absolutely terrified. That something might happen to her, to me…to her if something does happen to me. I’m so fucking scared, Ben.” Your voice broke then, prompting fresh tears to roll down your cheeks.

Ben had been insulted before, almost as if you hadn’t believed in him or his ability to keep either of you safe, but now as he listened to your heartfelt explanation, he realized it wasn’t really about any of that. It didn’t really have anything to do with him, except that you wanted him to be ready to care for your daughter if something ever happened to you. That unpleasant tug inside his gut happened once more when you finally confessed just how scared you were. He thought back over the last few months since Ellie had been born. Your push for him to be more involved; your fighting with him over his antiquated mindset as you’d called it over his ideas of what fatherhood entailed; your rushing him during your sexual escapades the few times he’d managed to get you away from the house while Elena watched the baby no matter how much it pissed him off that he couldn’t take his time with you like he wanted; your insistence that he watch Ellie while you go to lunch with your friend; your anger today at his refusal to deal with the shitty diaper situation — all of it suddenly clicked into place for him and made sense. Fuck, he didn’t think it was possible for him to feel any worse. He had completely failed you on all fronts. He had been the blind one; he’d never seen what was going on with you when it was right in front of him this whole time. Christ on a cross.

He gripped your chin gently. “Look at me.” You reluctantly met his gaze, yours glistening with fresh tears, and he could see the fear there plain as day. Fuck, how had he missed it all of this time? But instead of focusing on that, he sought to reassure you. “You and Ellie are safe. Nothing is going to happen. I would never let anyone hurt you. Either of you. I love you both too fucking much.” He grazed the pad of his thumb over your cheek to catch a stray tear that had escaped at his words. “And if it’s something that’s going to make you feel better, then let’s sit down and make a plan in case anything were to happen to you. Or even if I bit it. I want both of my girls to be taken care of, even if I can’t be here to do it myself.” You gave him a tearful smile. “So, let’s do that and kick this fear in its fucking ass. Sound good, doll?”

You nodded and leaned in, kissing him and making him smile. He’d been able to make you feel better after all and he felt damn proud of himself for being able to do so. “I love you,” you whispered.

He fucking loved hearing those three words from you every single time you said them; he knew you fucking meant it. And so did he. “I love you, too, baby.” When you beamed at him, another tugging sensation happened in his chest but this time, it was a far more pleasant one. He pecked your lips and opened the curtain. “Alright, let’s get you out of here.”

Before he could take a step out of the tub, you reached up and yanked the curtain closed, making his brows furrow. Your smile suddenly transformed into a devilish smirk. Immediately, he could feel his dick hardening again. He knew what that smirk meant. “We didn’t make up yet,” you murmured, starting to rub your body against his. “And we always make up after we fight.”

Ben felt the stiff peaks of your nipples gliding across his skin and his mouth practically watered at the thought of sucking on them while he rammed into you repeatedly. Fuck, he loved your tits. There had been a time after Ellie was born where you’d pushed his head away anytime he tried to get his mouth on them while he was fucking you, complaining that they were too sensitive due to all of the feedings. But recently, he’d been able to start that up again without causing you discomfort and once, he had even gotten a tiny amount of milk squirted into his mouth by accident. It had been surprising for him, embarrassing for you, but it had turned out to be a major turn on. He found he didn’t mind the taste and the idea of him drinking you down, you shooting something into his mouth for once and him needing to be the one to swallow, that made him hornier than he’d ever been in his life. He’d fucked a lot of women in his time, sometimes high, sometimes sober; he’d done things that made most people blush to hear about or uncomfortable to imagine, some things which you flat out refused to do. He’d founded Herogasm and had marathon fucks that were legendary. He’d hosted orgies where he would be the only one left standing, having never tired out and still raring to go when everyone else was down for the count. And yet, when you’d unintentionally squirted the smallest bit of milk into his mouth, his dick had gotten so hard, he was shocked it hadn’t exploded right there. Well…it did, but not the way he’d originally been thinking. He’d greedily swallowed you down and kept sucking, even through the first load of cum he’d shot into you in reaction to that fucking hot as hell moment. From that point on, while he knew your breastmilk was Ellie’s main food source and he loved that, his daughter had to learn to fucking share.

That was another reason why he had such a love/hate relationship with the breast pump machine you had. When he would watch the milk fill the bottle, he didn’t know whether to cry, jerk off, fuck you, or just watch. Sometimes he even wished you’d get rid of the contraption and just let him help you; it could be a rewarding experience for you both while you made sure Ellie had plenty to eat.

Your smirk grew, almost as if you knew where his thoughts had gone, and you ghosted your lips over his. “Ben,” you called to him in a teasing singsong voice. “I said, we always make up after fighting.”

He could feel something wet moving against his abdomen as you attempted to roll your hips, knowing it had nothing to do with your recent shower, and he ground out, “Yeah, we fucking do” before he slammed his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss that was all tongue and teeth. He turned around and carefully pushed you up against the tiled wall, making sure not to break it or you. It wasn’t long before he was inside you, his hips pushing into you at a steady pace, his mouth suckling at you and your fingers in his hair, tugging roughly, as you muffled your moans with your other hand. Neither of you had forgotten that Elena was within earshot; Ben just didn’t give a fuck. He snatched your hand away from your mouth, gruffed out a command of “Let me fucking hear you”, and he didn’t give two shits who heard the fucking hot soundtrack of your making up. Instead, as you cried out your pleasure for the world to hear, he went back to your incredible rack, focusing on filling up on you while he worked towards filling you up. The thought of any fear or resentment from your earlier argument was long gone as you both chased your highs at lightning speed. The only words said between you were dirty or full of love. And even when you both had been forced to take a mostly cold shower afterwards to clean up once you both had caught your breath, only smiles, tender touches, and kisses had been exchanged along with a few laughs, both of you completely sated. Well, you were; Ben would never get enough of you and he planned to try to fuck you again later after the baby had fallen asleep.

But as for right now, seeing the bright smile on your face as he carefully wrapped a towel around you, the weight visibly lighter on your shoulders since you confessed your fears to him, he was determined to do whatever it took to not only make you feel safe but also to keep you feeling this way and being this happy.

When you’d laughed at something he’d said, darted forward to kiss him, and wrapped your arms around his neck, his embrace tightened around you and he kissed the juncture in between your neck and shoulder, making you that silent promise. Whatever it took to make you feel safe again, he’d do it.

Elena glanced up to see you and Ben stepping into the living room, both dressed and looking refreshed. You had been missing in action for at least an hour and forty-five minutes. Elena already had an idea what you two had been doing considering everything she’d heard. Maggie had even heard when she called to check in and see when Elena would be returning home, beyond disgusted at the sounds Soldier Boy was making as he railed you in the shower. She’d told Elena to call her when she was done babysitting so the archaic asshole could get laid and promptly hung up. But even if Elena hadn’t heard what you’d been up to, she would have immediately known after seeing you both. Ben’s hair was still damp and yours was freshly blown out. Both of you were touching, unable to keep your hands off of each other and sporting matching grins, looking like practical newlyweds. Ben’s hand moved to the small of your back and both of you suddenly smiled wide upon seeing your daughter.

“Thank you for watching her and for waiting.” Your cheeks turned a shade of pink but you held out your arms. Elena was only too happy to hand you your baby back. “There she is,” you cooed, pressing a loud kiss to Ellie’s cheek. “Were you a good girl for your Aunt Elena?”

“She was a very good girl,” Elena confirmed, watching as Ben strode over and stopped next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him, his eyes centered on both of his girls with an affectionate smile to match. Sometimes Maggie still had trouble believing it, that Soldier Boy had been domesticated as she put it, but Elena never doubted how important you and Ellie were to him. She could see it every time he looked at you, at your little girl, and she actually thought it was beyond sweet. She had even said as much to which Maggie had rolled her eyes, muttered “Whatever, I’m going to vomit”, and walked away from the door while Elena waited to greet the three of you after she had extended a dinner invitation to your family one night. As expected Ben and Maggie didn’t get along too well, especially given their history, but the former seemed to be okay with Elena and she was okay with him because she knew how much he meant to you. And Maggie didn’t seem to mind you all that much, either. So you all somehow made the nearby neighbor thing work; for yours, Elena’s, and Ellie’s sakes if for nothing else.

“She did get a little fussy, though, so I fed her one of the bottles you had in the fridge.”

You nodded and pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead, briefly glancing at the clock on the mantle. “It’s about that time. Thank you so much for doing that. I’m sorry that we missed lunch.” You blushed once more when Ben let out a quiet chuckle.

“No problem,” Elena dismissed with a smile and a wave of her hand. “I’m glad everything seems to be okay. Ben looked a little worried when I got here.”

You glanced up at him, your brows arching in surprise. Ben shrugged, seeming unbothered at this observation.

“We can maybe shoot for next week if you’re game,” Elena offered.

You went to answer when Ben cut you off. “Actually, why don’t you guys still go and grab a late lunch or something? Elena’s already here and you both are dressed to the nines.”

Your eyes widened when you looked over at your husband, worry lining your expression for a moment. “No, that’s—it’s too late. By the time we’d get home, it would probably be dinner time.” You let out a nervous sounding laugh. “Besides, Ellie’s going to need to feed before then and I—”

“You pumped earlier, right? I can feed her.”

You seemed unsure, biting your lip. “I did, but I’m not sure—”

Ben released you and held out his hands, smiling reassuringly at you. “It’s settled. You go. Ellie and I have got this. Don’t we, Princess?” The baby had her fingers in her mouth, drooling everywhere. Elena saw Ben shake his head, seeming amused.

You glanced down at your daughter, the happiness from before replaced by uncertainty. Elena knew you struggled to leave Ellie the first few times she’d babysat for you both to have some time to yourselves. It wasn’t surprising; you were a new mother after all. But this time, you seemed even more reluctant than usual.

“Hey,” Ben softly called to you, prompting you to meet his gaze. “Remember what we talked about. We’re going to be fine. I’ve got her.”

It was moments like this that convinced Elena of your importance to him. If Maggie ever witnessed them, she was sure her girlfriend would reluctantly agree. Never had Elena ever heard him speak that gently to anyone, even his own daughter. Not when she and Maggie were in earshot anyway.

Ben gave you a meaningful look and after glancing down at Ellie one more time, you eventually handed your daughter over to her father. “There’s my girl.” He leaned down to kiss the baby’s forehead.

You watched, anxiety still apparent in your expression.“Ben, are you su—”

He immediately darted forward to kiss you, cutting you off. Elena had the grace to look away and give you two a moment.

“We’ll be fine,” she heard Ben murmur to you. “I’ve got this. I promise, baby. Go have your girl time and then come home. We’ll be here when you get back.”

“You’re absolutely sure?” You checked one last time.

“Of course I fucking am.”

“Language,” you chided.

Elena glanced over and found Ben smirking down at you, leaning closer. “You didn’t seem to mind my language earlier.” As expected, your cheeks reddened and he barked out a laugh, kissing one of them. “Alright, go have fun and we’ll see you later.” Then he leaned in to whisper something to you that couldn’t be heard and your jaw dropped, gently swatting at his hip since he was holding Ellie in both arms. He laughed and moved away, his gaze a little darker than before as it stayed fixed on you.

You kissed Ellie’s head and stroked her cheek, smiling. “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart. Be good for your daddy, okay? I love you.” Ellie gurgled and you smiled wider, leaning up to kiss Ben goodbye who immediately deepened it.

Elena was on the verge of looking away again when you pulled back, panting, and glared up at the smirking man in front of you. “You know, for someone who’s trying to get me to leave, you’re doing a miserable job.”

“Just giving you a little preview for later.” The stare between you two was so intense that it felt as if any unfortunate bystanders would suddenly burst into flames just from being too close. This time, Elena was the one nearly blushing. She would have never believed you two had just been having sex if she hadn’t heard it for herself. You both looked hungry and not for any late lunch.

You leaned in, as if to kiss him again, when you reached up and planted a kiss on his brow instead, smirking as you backed away. “Until then, Benjamin,” you snarked, turning to leave. “Love you.” You let out a yelp a moment later when Ben swatted your ass with a free hand as you passed.

You shot another glare at him and he simply smirked. “Love you, too, doll.”

Elena gently pulled you towards the door, thinking if she didn’t get you out of the house soon, you definitely weren’t going to leave at all. Or more like Soldier Boy wasn’t going to let you leave. Not with the way his eyes were unashamedly glued to your ass.

You waved one last time in your family’s direction. “Bye, Ellie. See you soon, babygirl.”

Ben picked up Ellie’s little hand and simulated a wave, making you smile.

Once Elena had you in the car and backed out of your driveway, she could see the earlier uncertainty returning. “So, what’s going on? First, Ben looked worried and now you. Something I should know about?”

You bit your lip and seemed to be mulling over whether to tell her or not. Elena gave you a moment to yourself to decide. Eventually you turned to look at her and sighed. “Okay.” You then proceeded to fill Elena in on everything you’d been feeling since your daughter had been born, everything you’d just told Ben.

Ben watched as you and Elena got into the car and left. He knew you would be worried but he was determined not to give you any reason to be. He meant it when he told you he had this. He wanted you to know that he could look after Ellie the way she needed looking after, which is why he insisted that you still go out to eat with Elena. He was going to make damn sure he passed this test and he was keeping his promise to you, that he would make you feel safe again. And if that meant he had to play Mr. Mom and change a few shitty diapers while you were gone, then so be it.

Once the car disappeared, he let out a sigh and turned to look down at his daughter. She was staring up at him with those beautiful eyes that reminded him so often of his mother’s, though absent of any of the heartbreak she had endured in her life with his father. That was why when you asked about possible names for your daughter after you’d given birth, he’d mentioned Eleanor to bestow upon her. You’d loved it, especially after Ben had explained the significance of the name to you, and so your daughter was named after her grandmother, though you both had ended up calling her Ellie for short most of the time.

He gave his little girl a smile. “We’ve got the place to ourselves, kiddo. We can do whatever we want. What does my princess want to do, hmm?”

Ellie gurgled and he nodded as if he understood.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Let your old man show you his movies so you can see when he was a star. Good thinking, babygirl.” He chuckled when she gurgled again and turned to head into the living room.

Just then, he heard the sounds he had been hoping like hell that he wouldn’t hear until you were back. Ellie began to grunt, a few short farts sounded, and an almost undetectable thud was heard as shit landed in her diaper. Sure enough, a moment later, the smell wafted up and smacked him in the face. The smell was beyond terrible, something you had told him previously couldn’t be the case since it was known that the poop of breastfed babies didn’t smell as bad as other poop. He’d looked at you then with disbelief; how the hell did you not smell it when you were wiping the kid’s ass? Then again, thanks to his super-powered nose, you wouldn’t detect what he would. Like right now. It was fucking awful, like sour milk mixed with shit. Christ.

“Ugh.” He extended his arms and held Ellie out, away from him. He should’ve known this would fucking happen. It was just his luck. “You know, kid, for such a small thing, you sure shit a lot.” Ellie continued to make happy noises as if she hadn’t just taken a massive shit that was rapidly stinking up the room. Ben pulled her closer, his face screwed up in disgust as the smell got closer, too. “You are way too happy for someone who just shit their pants for the second time today.”

He glanced around, almost as if you would somehow come flying around the corner to help, or Queen Lesbo might show up out of the blue or something. Nope, this was all on him. He remembered your words from earlier, how he needed to know how to care for Ellie which included shitty diaper changes, and he let out a huge defeated sigh. “Fuck.”

Ben cradled Ellie in the crook of his arm, relieved there were no damp spots on her back this time, and turned to make his way to her nursery. “You know something, kid, if the day should ever come that I’m in diapers, you better fucking change ‘em without any complaints. I don’t want to hear a damn word out of you then, got it?”

Ellie made more happy noises and he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” A small smile slipped onto his face and he lifted her up to his shoulder, kissing her cheek. “You’re lucky Daddy loves you, Princess.”

Almost as if she’d understood his words, she gave him a wide toothless smile, drooling onto his shirt. Instead of being disgusted, he chuckled and continued his trek. She’d unknowingly just given him a perfect excuse to change when you got home and entice you to get another shower in later. Thinking along that same line, feeling proud that this was now something he could do for you and for his daughter, something that would help you to feel better overall…well, he found now that he didn’t mind the idea of any shitty diaper changes all that much.

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godmadeaterribleerror · 27 days ago

Text

I Skip My Pride - No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: What an amazing opportunity to use that gif. Takes place in Chapter 22. Title from Lay All Your Love On Me by ABBA.

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary/Warnings: You share some music with Ben over text. Usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, fluff

whjt is empty v

What?

annie and mm are talkinng avout empty v. wat is it. Ben frowned at his phone, watching the little bubbles appear and disappear, and added theyre foghting about something calld a reeahna

The bubbles disappeared for half a second, and then-

Ask MM how to spell that.

Ben ahead of him, where MM and Annie were locked in an argument about something that sounded fucking stupid.

“How the fuck do you spell that.”

MM twisted, frowning at him. “Spell what.”

“That weird fucking word you said. The reeahna.”

“Do you,” Annie paused, exchanging a weird fucking look with MM. “Do you mean Rihanna?”

“Sure. How the fuck do you spell it.”

Ben listened as Annie sounded every letter out—slowly, like he was fucking stupid—and entered them into the phone carefully.

rihanna.

The response was immediate. Jesus fucking Christ, Ben.

wat

She’s a singer. And you’re thinking of MTV.

whats mtv

MTV was launched in the 80s. You should know what MTV is.

Ben paused, then typed, cabel channel

Good work. I’m proud of you.

shutt up. why is that shit still aroond

People love music, celebrities, and drama, and MTV provides all three.

od they still do thw msuic show

VMAs?

sure

Yes, they do.

music goood

What????

is musac still good

I’d say it is, but it’s an incredibly subjective medium.

wat music do u liek tha most

Ben knew what music She liked. He’d spent hours listening to all her fucking songs, over and over while she was gone. But the variety had almost killed him with whiplash, and he didn’t have the goddamn time to comb through the infinite amount of songs she seemed to enjoy. If She’d just spell out the best ones, he’d memorize them because he loved Her, and not bother with shit that wasn’t necessary.

The little bubbles had started up again, appearing and disappearing for several seconds before-

Did you listen to the playlist?

dont knoww how

Do you want help?

He sighed, glancing up at Annie and MM to ensure they wouldn’t reach back and grab his fucking phone from his hand, and looked back down. yes

Yes… Please?

dont puush it

I’m not helping you if you don’t say please, Benjamin.

Ben scowled at the screen. pleas

Thank you. Open the app, go to playlists, and hit the one labeled Benjamin Music Education Initiative.

Ben rolled his eyes, but followed Her instructions, returning to the messages when he was done. now wat

Listen to the music, dummy.

i dont know theese songs

That’s the point. There was a brief pause—Ben was really starting to hate these stupid fucking bubbles—before, There’s four songs per decade you missed. Three that are important for you to know, and one that I like. I also added some more familiar stuff that I thought you’d like, so you don’t listen to Toxic and explode.

stuf i like

Hughie said you like Steely Dan, so I went off of that. Ben grinned at the screen, even as the next message came through. Old fucking man music, by the way. You’re not doing yourself any favors in the “I’m not a goddamn dinosaur, Sunshine” department.

He wasn’t a fucking dinosaur. Normally, Ben would’ve immediately typed that into the phone with a glare, but something in his chest was making him all fucking soft and fucking happy. He loved Her so fucking much, and it was making him a pussy, but Christ, he couldn’t bring himself to give a flying pig’s fuck. He could picture Her perfect face in a mock frown, almost hear Her voice dropped into that dogshit fucking impression of him as he read her words, and he did like Steely Dan. He had absolutely no memory of telling Hughie that, but Ben didn’t really fucking care if he’d mentioned it and forgotten, because now She knew. And She’d added a few of their songs to the stupid playlist, mixed in with a bunch of shit Ben didn’t recognize.

doo i have to listeen now

Do you not want to?

i dont want to stoop talking to u

There was a pause, and then, You can do both. They aren’t mutually exclusive.

why

Because two apps can run at once.

Ben blinked, and went back to the playlist, hitting the button labeled play and almost dropping his phone as the music blasted through the car.

“Shit!” MM turned around the glare at Ben as he smashed his thumb onto the screen, trying to stop the guitar splitting filling up the air. “Use fucking headphones, you asshole, not all of us want to listen to Nirvana right now!”

“Nobody gave me headphone, you dicksack-“

“Here,” Annie threw a pair of thin white wires at Ben’s face, shrugging. “Those are my backups, they were like fifteen dollars. You can keep them.”

Ben scowled at the alleged headphones. “This is fucking string.”

“Goddammit,” MM muttered, snatching Ben’s phone and the wires from his hand and chucking them back into his lap, now somehow connected together. “You’re welcome, motherfucker. Go back to sulking about your separation anxiety and use those if you want to listen to music.”

Ben didn’t know how to use them to listen to music. Headphones were big, and they went over your ears. These couldn’t go over fucking shit.

how do u use wiires as headpones

What?

annie gav me string and said to use is to musicc

Oh. Those are earbuds, you put them in your ears.

Ben glanced down at the wires. There were little pieces on the end that looked bigger, and could maybe fit in his ears.

They did. It felt really goddamn weird, but when he shook his head they didn’t fall out, and when he pressed play again it was like the music was being pushed into his brain.

i got it

Good work.

shut the fhck up

Rude. Do you like the music?

its ok. loud

I’ll take okay and loud. I did start with grunge, so it’ll get quieter.

its not baad. didnt fuckinng expect it tho

I have so many old man jokes.

Ben rolled his eyes. brat

Cunt. Wait until you get to the 2010s, you’re going to hate it.

He might. Ben didn’t understand half the pop culture shit in the modern world, but She did, and he trusted her. He wasn’t listening to his music for himself, it was all for her. To find out what fucking music she deemed worthy of showing him, what stuff she loved, so he could love Her better. Maybe manage to understand her insane, genius fucking brain a little more. And he hadn’t been lying, the music wasn’t bad. A lot of it was weird as shit, but none of it made him want to rip off his ears.

And it was making something inside of Ben all fucking soft and gooey, that She’d successfully figured out what music he liked. That she’d taken the time to do this, just for him. It was the Benjamin Music Education Initiative. This was for Ben, from Her. He fucking loved Her, and she cared about him enough to do this. He was going to memorize every single fucking song on this list, and maybe she’d do it again.

He’d love Her no matter what. Even when she made old man jokes and called him a cunt, Ben would keep loving Her until it killed him.

i thogt u hated romeo an juilet

I do. Why?

song

Well, this version has a happy ending, and it’s an excellent fucking song.

its fine

It’s amazing. Do not disrespect that song, Pretty Boy. It’s blasphemy.

i said its fuckig fine

I’m going to make you listen to the whole album. The entire discography.

He could live with that. If it kept Her at his side, Ben would easily put up with listening to this twangy guitar for a million goddamn years. If it made Her smile, all the fucking better. wahtever

Don’t test me. I’ll do it.

i no

Know.

fuckk off

No. You’re stuck with me.

Ben could live with that as well.

End Note: Do you guys think Ben would be a swiftie. I feel like he would but he'd be like, angry about it.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask!

Taglist

@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles @brtodd

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krypticcafe · 2 years ago

Note

Y/N, staring at König: I bet I could take him

Soap: ... in a fight, right?

Y/N: :)

Soap: In a fight, right?

Alternatively, little ooc but

König: I could take you on

Y/N: ... like in a fight?

König: Ye- yes?

Y/N: Oh. Pity.

König: What.

Take On Me

rating: teen

pairing(s): König x GN!Reader

warning(s): suggestive themes, language, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as a sergeant, fluff at the end, possible grammar errors

a/n: decided to make this a one-shot! I enjoy writing and reading sexual tension, but ironically, I'm always on the fence about writing full smut. oh and please ignore the poor quality of the fight scene, I can't write them for shit :')

synopsis: fight or not, you're pretty sure you could take him on.

The room was filled with the smell of sweat and leather as soldiers took on their training time in the base's surprisingly sizable gym. Several were utilizing the exercise machines, some simply resting on the benches, and others making light conversation.

Currently, you were in the midst of putting your sparring partner in a deadlock, motivated by the small crowd that cheered and winced at the sight. With a face flushed red, your opponent tapped out and a chorus of boisterous laughter, groans, and exclamations rang around you. You threw yourself off of them, helping your partner up and thanking them while also throwing in a compliment on their performance as a show of good sportsmanship. As you stepped off the platform, you were given several pats on the back and comments. While it was definitely an ego boost, you were by no means the best in the base, but people knew that you were on the 141 for a reason, and your combat skills were nothing to laugh about.

Feeling a harsh slap on the back, you turned and gripped their arm, twisting it at an uncomfortable angle since your body was still working on instinct.

"Ow ow ow-! It's me!" Soap yelped, but you further clenched your hand, "I was just going to congratulate you! Christ almighty, you've got a grip-"

"You scotsmen have a real funny way of congratulating people then," you quipped, letting go of his arm, "Honestly Soap, you should know better than smacking a soldier right after they get out of the ring."

He muttered under his breath, holding his sore wrist to his chest in mock offense and sighing, "How about I treat you to a water then? Consider it an apology of sorts."

"Oh you mean the jug on the bench that's just about 4 meters away? Why, I'd be so honored to have you as my escort, Sergent McTavish."

"Awa' n bile yer heid!" He scoffed with amusement, "Can't even let me do something nice without takin' a stab at me, can ya?"

You shook your head, laughing with him while you two went to grab a drink. He at least had the courtesy to pass you a towel to wipe your sweat off. Hanging it around your shoulders, you grabbed a bottle and started chugging. Tilting your head back, you noticed in the corner of your eye another match that was going on. It wasn't surprising, considering how multiple sparring matches would go on simultaneously all the time. But it wasn't the match itself that got your attention, but rather the person that was in it.

You recognized him instantly with how he gained notoriety for his size (no, not in that way, but you'd be lying if you said the thought hasn't crossed your mind for the briefest of moments) amongst the soldiers, even though he was part of KorTac. His presence led you to the conclusion that SpecGru and KorTac were most likely holding another joint operation together again, unsurprising since they're practically sister companies. Not to mention, the two of you had small talk in the past in passing from previous missions together and whenever you bumped into each other on base.

Staring for a while more, you watched as he viciously pummeled his opponent into the ground, barely breaking a sweat. Catching sight of his eyes behind his dark hood, you caught the way they lit up at his victory, as if delighted by the violence in an almost animalistic manner. It made your arms prick with goosebumps, you didn't want to know why. It was a surprise to find him in such a state since every time you've seen him, his eyes were usually darting around like a skittish lamb, contradicting his appearance in every sense. But who were you to question it? After all, your own lieutenant was feared like the grim reaper in the battlefield, but at base with the others, he was just another British geezer at heart.

Soap whistled and stood by you, eyeing the way you were fixed on the match in front of you. "Looks like someone's caught yer eye, aye?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah I guess." You hummed, not taking your eyes off the Austrian as he pinned his opponent down.

Soap raised a brow and smirked. It wasn't hard for him to catch on, but he was surprised to see you so entranced by a person for once. "I see... well, I don't blame you. The guy sticks out like a sore thumb and he's an absolute unit."

You nodded absent-mindedly, a little too focused on the way König flexed while keeping his enemy down. Much to your demise, his shirt was painfully tight-fitting, especially when damp with perspiration and christ, you felt like you had to tear your eyes from staring at his thighs for too long. How can someone be built so... so...

Delicious?

Before you knew it, the fight ended and König was beginning to head your way, most likely to grab water. Without thinking, you turned to the side and muttered under your breath, "I could probably take him."

"Oooo, cocky now, aren't ya?" Soap laughed, missing the message. You, on the other hand, tried to keep your composure, rubbing the towel on your neck.

"Uh, sure... You could put it that way."

The scotsman had a look of confusion and was about to ask you to elaborate until he saw König pull up beside you. "Oi, König! You did a real good job out there-"

Looking at Soap, you saw a mirth in his eyes that you immediately recognized, your eyes widening as you began to mouth silent protests to him and gesturing for him to 'not do whatever the fuck you're thinking of doing'.

"-you think you can handle another round? You two already know each other, right? I was thinkin' you could use a change of pace, and what's better than going against a prized member of the 141?"

You watched as König eyed you up and down cautiously, and you had to resist letting a shiver run down your spine. Why did he have to look at you like that? You knew the bare minimum of the guy, and yet you were acting like a fool in your own head.

After he was done sizing you up, he nodded, his eyes lighting up, "I could take you on."

"Like in a fight?" Once more, your mouth had outrun your brain, probably fried from the way he was practically checking you out.

"Y-Yes?" König stuttered, caught off-guard by your bizarre question. What other connotation could his words have had?

"Oh. Pity." You mumbled with a sigh, tossing your water bottle to the side along with your towel, beginning to walk towards the sparring box.

"Wait what-"

You cut off König's confusion as you hopped over into the box, folding your arms and leaning on the ropes. "So we gonna fight or what, soldier?"

"I- uh," He paused, trying to get his mind into the present. He shook his head and nodded, "Yes, sergent."

There was something about the way he strided over to the ring and only needed to swing his legs over the ropes to get in that made your heart beat twice, or maybe it was the way he looked back at you, the two of you staring each other down like hungry animals preparing for a cage match.

Though your hunger was that of a different kind if you were being honest.

Soap stood outside on the side of the box, playing referee for the match. At his signal, you set yourself at a stance and got a feel for the area, preparing yourself.

As you expected, König struck first. After all, you weren't just staring at him during his match, you were watching as well, which gave you a bit of an unfair advantage, but you figured it'd balance out his size advantage. Moving to the side, you followed up your dodge with a quick jab to his side. You were about to make another, but he had more control over his reflexes than you thought. He blocked it and countered by hitting you square between your shoulder and chest. The two of you were even.

He was a formidable opponent, certainly not at the level of Ghost or Price, but good enough that you'd think he'd ought to be a candidate for the 141. Sure, his technique was sloppy, but if he cleaned it up, then combined with his strength, he could be one hell of a soldier. Soap seemed to take note of his potential, too, giving König tips here and there. You'd almost forgotten this was supposed to be practice for him.

You were starting to grow exhausted as the fight went on, it hadn't been that long, but you two were lasting for quite a while in the ring, and neither side had held back. At several points throughout the fight, one of you would get in a hit or move in a way that had Soap cringing and gritting his teeth, watching at the edge of his seat. Hmph. At least someone was enjoying themselves.

While the fight was a nice way for you to get an eyeful of your opponent, it wasn't that enjoyable when you were panting and sweating your ass off, counting all the non-sexy bruises you'd wake up with later. Wanting to put things to an end, you looked for the right chance, dropping and sliding past his legs before getting up and propelling yourself forward. With a leap, you launched yourself onto König's back, latching onto it and pulling him down with all your weight. Just before he'd come crashing down, you swung yourself around his torso, shifting to his front so you wouldn't get crushed in the fall and further push him down.

He went down like a tree, shaking the platform as he made contact. Soap hollered in awe, whistling at your takedown. "That's our sergeant! Steamin' Jesus, wasn't that a show?"

You were panting hard from the stunt, but you managed to give König a sly grin, leaning down that you were just inches away from his veil, "So whaddya say König? You done, or you want go another round?"

"I- I'm done-" His voice strained, writhing under you since the pressure on his chest was making it hard to breathe properly. In addition, he was trying his best to not stare too much since even he was aware of how this looked, with you settled on his chest, knees on either side of his head and effectively trapping him with your thighs, not to mention your hands held his wrists above his head, locking him in a very compromising position. Your view was just as nice, giving you a good look at his face, or at least what you could see of it. A part of you wanted to say it was only because they were the only thing of him you could see, but you felt your heart flutter when the two of you locked eyes. It never had occurred to you, but his eyes were a sage green with a muddled ring of crystal blue that glimmered under the lights above, and the way he looked at you alone almost made you breathless again.

When were his eyes so damn pretty?

"Good choice." Although you played it off as a friendly threat, in reality, you were relieved he didn't want to go again, far too weary for another round and undoubtedly, you'd lose that one.

Rolling off his back, you stood up and outstretched a hand to him. Even though you couldn't see his full face, you could tell he appreciated the gesture by the friendly crinkle of his eyes and the way he took your hand, yelping when you yanked him up.

"Whoops, too hard? My bad."

König shook his head, "Oh no, not at all, I was just surprised. Ah, and thank you for helping me practice, Sergeant. It helped me realize a few things I need to improve."

"It's no problem at all, König, I'm glad I could help. All that matters is that you got something useful out of that loss and turn it into a gain."

"Price really must be getting to you."

"Shut it MacTavish."

The two of you stepped out of the ring and started to pack your things, further discussing improvements for König and some for yourself. Soap left a little early to "attend business with Ghost" (probably to ramble about the fight), to which you cursed him out with a glare for ditching you so abruptly. Now, it was just you and the Austrian in the gym.

"Well, I'll be going back to my place now, I guess I'll see you sometime soon?"

"Yes, of course. Maybe we could spar again sometime soon?" König asked, much to your surprise.

"Sure, I'd love to," you smiled to yourself a moment, debating your urges and ultimately deciding to shoot your shot because when else were you going to have the confidence to? Insecurity be damned, the post-victory adrenaline was getting to you. "Maybe we can even have some more... private matches?"

"Mhm, I wouldn't mind that. But I think we'd need someone to watch, no? Or unless you want to record and we can study it."

Not what you're implying, but his response definitely could be taken that way, causing your face to warm up again. Maybe if you pushed him in the right direction, he'd realize. "Er- I was kinda thinking we'd do it in my place, maybe? Unless you're more comfortable at yours."

All your attempts were going over his head as he grew more and more confused. "Sergeant, I don't believe the rooms are big enough for a fight-"

You burst out laughing, giggling to yourself at how ridiculous it all was, you dancing around your point and how it was leading him on a wild goose chase without even knowing it. Wiping a tear from your eye, you wheezed, "I- ohmygod- I'm so sorry- it's just, wow-"

You felt bad for laughing, but it was the only way you could make things less awkward for yourself and ease the tension. "I'm so sorry, König it's just- you're not really good at picking up hints, huh? But honestly, I should've been more straightforward with you, so,"

"What I'm trying to say is," Taking in a deep breath, you stood straight and looked him in the eye determinedly, "Would you like to hang out sometime? Just the two of us? Together?"

"König?"

Silence.

At that moment, König had put all the puzzle pieces together, or at least what little of them he had, and realized that you'd been (horribly) flirting with him the entire time. He also realized how hopelessly clueless he sounded. Like a computer needing to reboot, he began to overheat underneath his mask and sputtered, an incoherent jumble of words both German and English spilling from his lips. You giggled and pat him on the shoulder, "I take that as a yes, then?"

He let out a slew of words in German, catching himself immediately afterward, "Yes! I would love that- I mean, like that!"

"Really? Oh thank god, I've actually been meaning to ask that for a while now," you nervously chuckled, grabbing a pen and notepad from your bag and taking his hand in yours, putting a note in his palm, "Hope you don't mind if I just write something down... I think the weekend I'll be available so until then?"

"Mhm," He mumbled, trying not to fixate too much on how your hand was holding his as if you two weren't throwing hands earlier.

"Great! See you then!" You pressed a quick peck on his cheek and scurried away before he could react. You sneaky lil thing.

Stunned, König stood still for a solid minute until finally looking at his palm to see what you wrote.

"Here's my phone and room number! Next time we meet, be prepared because I can and will take you on! On a date, of course."

#x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty #cod #codmwii #codmw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #könig x reader #könig fluff #könig #könig cod #könig call of duty #kortac #kortac x reader #könig codmw2 #könig fanfiction #fanfiction #oneshot

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lululandd · 1 year ago

Text

rabid; (i.)

pairing: platonic simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

word count: 956

warnings: comedy, aftermath of torture, mild gore

note: heheh >:3 (also on ao3)

summary:

ghost has a love-hate relationship with his neighbour of six years. on one hand they’re quiet enough, nice enough, considerate enough and never once had bothered him in any way, but on the other hand he is a highly trained soldier with highly trained senses and the things he hears travelling through his walls are batshit insane.

part i. | part ii. | part iii. | part iv.

He guesses they are an entertainer or a comedian or some sort because on rare occasions, they—whether he wanted to or not—made him laugh. The absurdity of the questions and things that came out of their mouth really makes him feel like he has a glimpse of what a worry free civilian life could be.

On one particularly rowdy night he heard the one sided conversation about anal, which rapidly escalated to how peoples arseholes can stretch up to seven inches in diameter and therefore, theoretically could fit two smaller raccoons.

He listened in fascinated horror how that thought came into their mind, how they associated arseholes with raccoons, and why in christ fuck did they sound so cheerful about it. Maybe he’s just a battle hardened, workaholic soldier that has only seen carnage and suffering, but even if such a thought came to his mind, it would not be classified as a happy thought and he would not laugh about it.

Until eight months later where he’s interrogating an American that he really wants to just straight up murder and remembers his neighbour.

He opens the door that leads to the rest of the warehouse and calls out to his men, “I need two raccoons. Small but not pups.”

He was met with silence and a confused looks, but he saw Gaz and Soap get on it and round up several soldiers.

“Alive!” He barked at them.

—

Soap looked worriedly at Gaz, “What do you think he’s gonna do with live raccoons?”

The other man shrugged, “You think he’s gonna threaten him with rabies?” Gaz gnashed his teeth together, “Let them bite him or something?”

One of the Lance Corporals behind them chimed, “I kinda wanna see.”

In came a chime of ‘yeah’s from the other men.

—

Ghost had made sure the American in question heard his request of the live raccoons before taking a seat on the table holding all his tools and lighting up a cigarette.

He looked at the man’s surroundings, the litter of teeth and nails on the floor, three parts of his severed ring finger, and the blood splatters on the makeshift plastic floor. The cleanup crew’s gonna at least be a little happy about that.

“You like raccoons, mate?” He offers, lighting what seemed to be his third cigarette.

The question caught him off guard. “What?”

“Raccoons. Trash pandas. Those chubby lil wankers with grubby hands.” He curled his palms and did mock scratching motions.

“You’re crazy.” He spat.

“I am.” For even thinking of trying this over his neighbour’s demented jokes.

Fourty five minutes later Gaz came knocking on his door.

“Got your furry friends, boss.” He gestures at a cage sitting by the door. The animals seemed calm, they couldn’t have just nicked it from some random bins and throw them in there.

“Cheers, Gaz.” He saw the man linger. “Anything else?”

“Can we observe, Sir?”

“No.” came his quick answer. If he really has to do what he thinks he’s gonna do, he’d rather his men not see it. They’ve seen so much in their line of work already, he doesn’t want to add to their nightmares.

Imagining one of them having PTSD from seeing a harmless animal makes him feel guilty.

He took the cage from Gaz’s hands and placed it nicely on the floor, a little way away from the American’s feet.

“You know that saying?” He puts on his best southern accent, mimicking Graves. “What crawled up your butt and died?”

The man’s eyes widened and he tried so hard to shift further into his seat, trying to create as much distance between them as possible. Ghost lets the moment go on for a little longer. It makes all the difference, really; whether you rush into the torture or letting them sit and wonder about the choices they think they have.

“I heard somewhere that your arse can stretch up to seven inches in diameter.” He pointed at the raccoons, “The normal sized bastards can fit into a four inch hole. But I’m being nice today and gonna give these smaller ones some wiggle room.”

He can’t help but crouch closer to the cage and coo at them as the man starts yelling for help.

“So.” He said in a calm voice, listing his head slowly when the man had stopped screaming his throat dry. “Since I’m a very nice man today I’m gonna give you two options.”

Fat rolls of tears had started to run down the man’s cheeks, his chest heaving as he begged for mercy.

“Do you want me to sedate these raccoons so they don’t claw your insides or do you wanna..” He remembers a word that floated into his flat one night, “..rawdog it?”

—

Soap had never seen a cleaner interrogation room before. Not from Ghost, the man’s usually so brutal about it. He remembers seeing parts of a live brain one time because Ghost had bashed their skull so badly and remembered having to shoot the person dead out of pity. But today? The intel was good, the man was still alive with almost all of his body parts; save for some of his teeth and nails and the chopped up finger,

and the raccoons.

They were alive and Ghost seemed to never have opened the cage at all.

—

When Ghost came home that month he heard his neighbour say something about a ‘little birthday celebration’ for tomorrow. He checked his watch and decided to walk to the bakery and get them some cake. That last operation went smoothly, and he has them to thank.

He can’t wait to hear what other mental things that will come out of their mouth in the future and apply them to his work.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty imagines #call of duty #scuffed writing

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waynes-multiverse · 8 months ago

Text

Rehab – Epilogue

Series Summary: Thanks to Soldier Boy, the CIA was able to develop Project Bloom under the fierce leadership of Grace Mallory: a final cure to Compound V and a hopeful end to the supe epidemic three years after the explosive incident at Vought. A secret rehab facility in Upstate New York is supposed to help former heroes find their way back to humanity. The catch, though? Soldier Boy has never fucking agreed to any of this shit and is surely not happy about being powerless for the first time in his goddamn long life.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, some crack, a bit of fluff and angst, hard decisions, a lot of goodbyes & all the feels

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: We're here, babes! End of the road! Thank you guys so much for everything. This was a wild ride, and I'm glad I had you in my passenger's seat 💚

Feedback is my fuel 🖤

<< Chapter 8 || Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Epilogue: twin flame

You’re gonna be nowhere The loneliest kind of lonely It may be rough goin’ Just to do your thing’s the hardest thing to do…

“Morning.” Y/N smiles brightly as he stirs and slowly wakes. “Wakey, wakey, sunshine.”

Blue eyes flutter open and fearfully widen, his brow scrunches in confusion as he looks around and scans his environment. He tries to wiggle free of the handcuffs around his wrists, keeping him tied to the metal bed frame.

Not that it matters – he can’t leave either way.

She turns off the radio with a blissful sigh. “You know, that was one of his favorite songs. Your father’s,” she clarifies. “He sang it all the time. It was fucking annoying.”

“Why the hell can’t I move? Get me the fuck out of here,” the man in a sky-blue hospital gown demands and lifts his head off the mattress, only a few inches, attempting to get up.

Needless to say, that attempt is futile and fails miserably.

“Don’t strain yourself, John, or you might shit the bed. And I ain’t cleaning that mess… You’ve been in a coma for three weeks,” Y/N tells him with an amused smile. “Oh, and you can’t move because you’re paralyzed from the waist down. I even doubt that meager dick’s still working.”

His nostrils flare and let out a huff. “It’s Homelander, you bitch. No one calls me by that name.”

“Yeah, not anymore.” Y/N twitches her shoulders in mock apology. Her mouth curves into a Machiavellian grin. “Scared yet?”

“Where the fuck am I?” he growls through gritted teeth, upset by her blatant disrespect.

“You’re at a rehab facility for former supes. I mean, it’s discontinued. Abandoned, really. It’s just you and me,” she replies flatly and then forces a customer-service smile to her lips. “So, guess I’ll be your nurse for the day. How are we doing, you–”

Her brow furrows as she tries to remember the exact words, pensively pursing her lips.

“Wait…” She holds up a finger to stop him from interrupting her as she fishes out a crumpled piece of paper from her jeans pocket. She squints her eyes in concentration as she skims over its content.

“Ah yes!” With a smile, she clears her throat and reads from her paper. “So, how are you doing, you bootlicking… carpet-munching… cockboy?”

Homelander frowns at the insults. Y/N does too, but for a different reason as she shakes her head.

“Jesus fucking Christ, your dad’s handwriting is an atrocity,” she mutters as she tilts her head with narrowed eyes at the paper in her hands.

The blond man’s eyes narrow in both shock and confusion. “How do you know my father?”

“Oh, uhm, I’m his wife,” Y/N says and smiles complacently. “Which technically makes me your step-mommy, but let’s not go there, you–… Wait.” She peeks once more at the paper in her hands. “You cumguzzling… cowfucking… cuck fluffer.” Her brow draws up, impressed. “Huh, nice. Little alliteration going on there. Guess all those books paid off…”

“Can we skip to the part where you tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?” Homelander snaps impatiently, annoyed with the shenanigans.

“Alright, your dad sent me here to, you know… gloat,” Y/N says simply and shrugs, flashing him an easy smile. “He wanted you to know that he’s the one that put you into this damn bed. Funnily enough, he once woke up in this very room, tied to a bed. Not in a kinky way, though. Although, he probably would’ve loved that…” She chuckles fondly. “This place really changed him, but I doubt it’ll do the same for you.”

“And why the fuck isn’t he here telling me this, huh?” John asks with a challenging look. “I didn’t reckon him for a fucking coward.”

Y/N’s facade cracks a little at his words, a vicious smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, he was not a coward. He was the bravest man I’ve ever known. He was and is a fucking hero and surely getting celebrated as one.”

Y/N leans back in her chair and grabs the remote from the bedside table, switching on the TV. A news report flickers across the screen. It’s a recording from a few weeks ago, but Homelander doesn’t know that. It shows a row of celebratory parades held all over the country. A statue of Soldier Boy is being erected next to the Statue of Liberty.

Homelander finally defeated. Soldier Boy dies a hero in fierce combat. America breathes a sigh of relief.

Homelander watches the news and reads the taglines as they scroll in front of his eyes. His mouth is agape in bewilderment before Y/N switches the television off again.

“Everyone loves him… and fucking hates you. Like spit-on-your-grave hate,” she summarizes and watches his face darken. She rises from her seat and smiles down at him. “Have a nice life chained to that bed till you rot to death, you dickfaced, inbred, garbage-eating fascist.”

With a wide smirk, she then leans down and whispers into his ear, “Those were my insults, by the way.”

“Well, he’s dead, and I’m fucking alive, which means I won,” Homelander snarls from the bed with a contrivedly triumphant sneer, rattling with his handcuffs. He’s close to an explosion, she can tell.

“Yeah, you’d be telling yourself that if it makes you feel better…”

With a roll of her eyes, Y/N turns her back. As she marches out of the room, Homelander’s furious screams of agony haunt the clinic’s empty hallways, but there is no one here to hear them anymore.

Project Bloom has been disbanded. There’s only a handful of CIA nurses left, tasked to take care of Homelander until his hopefully slow and painful death. If someone decides to hold a pillow over his head at any point, she supposes she wouldn’t be that mad about it either.

Homelander is history. Soldier Boy is dead. And Ben is at rest.

Finally, Y/N can leave this godforsaken place behind her.

Y/N slides into the driver’s seat of her Prius, her head falling back as she exhales a long, exhaustive breath and rubs her temples. That damn brat gave her a fucking migraine with his whiny bitching.

“Finally,” it huffs from the backseat. “Took you long enough. How the fuck did it go?”

Y/N blinks into the rearview mirror and catches a set of expectant green eyes. Her hand drops from her temples as she chuckles.

“Your handwriting is horrible,” she says as a response and pulls out the paper, pointing at a word. “What the hell is that one?”

Ben leans forward between the seats and squints his eyes. “Mmh, pube flosser,” he supplies and frowns. “You didn’t use that one?”

Y/N sighs. “I think he’s got the gist without it.”

“Yeah, but that was a good one,” Ben mumbles and sighs disappointedly. “Did you play him the song?”

“Yes, I did. I played him the song and did everything else you wanted me to do,” she confirms patiently. “You know, you’ve got a weird knack for torture.”

“Thank you. It’s a gift.” Ben blushes and adjusts his baseball cap. “Did you sell it properly? You know, acting is a skill. The most important thing is to–”

“Ben! For the love of God, shut up or I’ll run you over with my car,” Y/N snaps. If he gives her one more acting lesson, she swears she’ll turn herself a widow.

“Fine.” Ben scoffs and rolls his eyes back. “Did he fucking buy it?”

“Yup, he surely thinks you’re dead. Like the rest of the world,” Y/N says and shoots him a smile over her shoulder.

He matches it and scratches his shaved chin, letting himself fall back into the seat. “Good. So, we’re done, right?”

“Yeah, he was the last stop on our list,” she replies quietly, her smile mixing with sadness. “How’s the arm?”

“Good, good…” He nods, his head bobbing thoughtfully as he clutches the scar on his right bicep. “Healing nicely. Finally got a real war wound. Always wanted one.”

“Okay, then… Let’s go, I guess.” With a heavy swallow, Y/N turns the ignition and starts the car.

“You know, I’d really love to kiss you now,” Ben notes, heartache swinging in his voice, and finds her eyes in the rearview mirror.

Y/N bites down on her lip and nods. “Yeah, wouldn’t that be nice…”

Three weeks ago…

A guard gestures down the hallway to the restrooms, but as soon as Y/N rounds the corner and is out of sight, she takes a turn in the opposite direction.

The good thing about a super secret government facility that’s not supposed to exist is that it only comes with the necessary manpower. There’s no abundance of guards at every corner. It’s quiet and desolate.

Moreover, no one expects a silly and weak human to cause any trouble. It surely has its advantages to be constantly underestimated.

Y/N finds the lab she’s passed on their way in, where she spied a glass fridge with vials of different colors. It’s guarded, but only by one person. It’s sloppy, honestly.

A flirty ambush, a stab to the neck with a dull pocket knife, a stolen keycard, and she’s inside. She drags the body in, too, leaving no trace of her crime behind.

Her fingers rummage through differently labeled flasks. There’s plenty of blue and yellow, but not the poisonous green she’s looking for.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” she mutters to herself as she desperately searches every drawer, every goddamn cabinet of the laboratory.

Out of breath, she stops and grips her temples, shoulders slumping as her mind spins. She wants to curse and scream, but that would draw too much attention. She knows she’s running out of time. No one takes that long to fucking pee. Decisions have to be made quickly.

She grabs a blue vial.

Rolling down her sleeves, she walks nervously back into the control room. Neither Mallory nor Edgar pays her any mind. Everyone’s eyes are glued to Soldier Boy and Homelander. Father and son. It’s biblical.

It’s as if she isn’t even there.

Her veins twitch, her blood boils. It’s tingling in her fingertips.

“Little help would be fucking appreciated!” Ben yells as he wrangles with a defunct Homelander.

Stan Edgar’s smile. So vicious. So cold. So calculating.

She knows the air in the room is about to shift. Her hands ball into fists by her side, gather their energy.

He gives his command. She screams.

“No! That wasn’t the fucking deal!”

Edgar doesn’t even look at her fully. A sideways glance is all she’s worth. “Take her out, too.”

Mallory sees it first, her eyes widening when she realizes what’s going on. It’s too late to warn anyone, however, her cries for help unheard as the acid rots her throat.

Edgar and two guards are next, metal weapons melt and mix with a puddle of human soup on the ground. Then, she goes after the one that got away.

The third guard hurries inside the prison cell, but Y/N slips through the crack of the door before it slams shut. The first gunshot goes clean through Homelander’s spine, but the second is deterred and only strikes Ben’s arm as the guard bubbles to a pond, a hot spring in the concrete.

Ben clutches his bleeding wound with a hiss before his green eyes lock with hers. They widen, and it takes him a moment to make sense of it all.

“Y/N, what–”

He takes a step forward. She takes a step back.

“Don’t come near me,” she orders him with panic blinking in her eyes like a flashing alarm. Her chest rises and falls with every anxious breath.

He holds his palms up high, surrendering. “It’s okay.”

Ben carefully walks around her and steps over the bubbling human puddle on the floor. He peeks outside the door, purses his lips, and nods in impressed satisfaction.

“Those little blobs outside–”

Y/N bobs her head at his unfinished question. “Mallory and Edgar plus two guards,” she replies.

“Nice job.” He whistles lowly and shoots her a devilish grin, taking a step closer. “Gotta say, I’ve never been more turned on by you. I’m getting fucking hard.”

“Ben!” Y/N scolds and backs away from him until she’s pressed against the wall. “I told you, don’t touch me,” she warns him again.

Ben’s smile fades as he recognizes her fear. His features soften, the jokes disappear. “Hey, it’s alright. Twenty-four hours and you’ll be fine again. Just gotta get through it.”

Y/N shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. Ben’s brow knits in confusion, his face stern.

“What-… Why are you shaking your head?”

A tear escapes and streaks her cheek. “It won’t go away in twenty-four hours,” she chokes out. “They were out of Temp V.”

Ben’s face drops at the realization. “No, no, no… Tell me you didn’t fucking do this!” he yells.

“They were going to kill you! What was I supposed to do?” Y/N explains tearfully.

“Die, Y/N! You were supposed to let me fucking die!” Ben’s jaw tightens as anger surges through his body.

“I didn’t let you die the first time! What made you think I would let you fucking die right now, huh?” Y/N cries through gritted teeth, her hands balling into fists. “Stop trying to kill yourself. You fucking promised me!”

Licking his lips, Ben swallows. He’s quiet, running a palm over his face while his mind races a mile a minute. “Okay… alright,” he says finally, his voice significantly calmer now. “Where did you get the Compound V from?”

“There’s a lab here,” she replies in the same calm manner.

“They got more?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Ben nods and finds her eyes. “Show me.”

Y/N presses her lips into a thin line, shaking her head once more. “No.”

His anger returns, nostrils flaring as his brow creases. “What d’you mean no?”

She swallows thickly. “Look, if you really wanna do this, then I won’t stop you,” she says, a pleading glimmer haunting her eyes. “But you finally got a chance. You can live the normal, boring life. You can go on road trips, see Mount Rushmore… I know you want to.”

Ben swipes his tongue over his teeth and averts his gaze. He pinches the bridge of his freckled nose, and Y/N can see that she’s right.

“I’m not even sure if I want powers,” she continues after a pause. “But at least this time it was my choice. And I don’t regret it if it means I got to save you, okay?”

When Ben finally looks at her, it breaks her heart. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

Y/N gives him a sad smile. “I know… And you won’t be. I promise.”

Their attention is then temporarily drawn to a groan on the ground. Y/N’s brow furrows as she looks at Homelander’s body and notices his fingers twitching.

“Is he still alive?”

“Looks like it,” Ben replies. But as Y/N gets ready to take care of the problem, he stops her, holding out his flat palm. “Wait, wait, wait… Judging by the wound, he’s gonna be a fucking vegetable. It’s a waste of a kill.” He then grins mischievously at her. “I’ve got a better fucking idea. The other question is: how the fuck do we get outta this place… alive?”

Y/N’s mouth opens, but she doesn’t have an answer aside from a helpless shrug for him. This is as far as she has planned. Actually, she hasn’t planned any of this at all.

“I might be able to help with that,” a woman’s voice sounds behind her.

Y/N’s eyes widen as she recognizes the newcomer, her mouth parting anew in both surprise and shock. Ben, on the other hand, furrows his brow and glares at the stranger as if she had just spoken Russian.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ben prompts and then leans closer to Y/N, whispering in her ear, “Kill her.”

Y/N frowns, but her eyes are glued to the young woman in front of her, the familiarity sinking in. “I can’t,” she grits through her teeth.

“Why the fuck not?” Ben asks now loud enough for everyone to hear, including their guest.

“Because I’m the president,” the woman replies, smiling complacently. “And an old friend.”

Ben’s brow creases even more. “President of what? Cunt-town?”

“The United States, Ben,” Y/N tells him flatly. If she could kick his leg right now, she would. Leave it to her husband to get them both killed.

“Wait, a skirt is president?” Ben arches an eyebrow and mutters, “No wonder this country’s going to shit…”

“Charming,” Victoria Neuman says with a small sigh, but seemingly unbothered by the old-school views. Much like Y/N, she ignores the comment and doesn’t take offense to it. “I can see why you married him,” she adds wryly, looking at Y/N.

“Technically, she wasn’t elected. She was Vice President till President Singer died… accidentally,” Y/N explains, knowing Ben only reads the paper for the sports section and the comic strip. She swallows the thick lump in her throat, her heart thrashing wildly in her chest.

“Ah, I know what that’s code for.” Ben smirks coolly. “Bold move. I can fucking respect that.”

“Yeah, God knows some old fuck’s approval is what I’m looking for,” Neuman taunts, the sarcasm dripping from her red-painted lips.

Ben’s face drops as a bit of anger bubbles up inside of him. That bitch is lucky he’s V-free. He forces a tight-lipped smile. “I’m just saying I would’ve done the same thing, okay?”

“No offense, but you’re too much of a moron for that,” Neuman replies dryly.

Ben’s nostrils flare as he grits, “Offense fucking taken.”

“Okay!” Y/N tries to cut the tension with a nervous chuckle, pushing herself between Neuman and Ben. “How about you just tell us what we have to do to get out of this one?”

“See? She’s smart,” Neuman says and smirks at Ben. “I’ve always liked you, Y/N. You know, when Stan and Grace told me their plan of getting you two involved, I warned them. But they just wouldn’t listen. Everyone always underestimates the orphan. I should know, and so do you. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“Yeah, guess we’re MVP, after all, Nadia,” Y/N says and makes it a point to emphasize her real name.

Victoria just smiles in response. “So, since you took care of two problems for me, one in here and one out there, I have a proposal for you.”

“What is it?” Y/N knows she’s really out of choices. Either she agrees, or Ben and her will spend the afterlife together.

“I need a new Chief of Staff. I want you to do it. You’re smart, driven, and I know you wanna change shit around here. You wanna make a difference? This is your chance,” Neuman proposes. “You can’t take the cure again. It’s going to kill you. Trust me, we’ve done studies, and the results are not pretty.”

Y/N thinks for a few breaths. “What about Ben?”

“I guess he can live. It’s not like he’s a threat to anyone,” Neuman says and almost sounds bored. “Hell, for all I care, we can even make Soldier Boy a reformed hero for dealing with Homelander. He dies heroically in battle and quietly lives out his retirement in fucking Florida or some shit. We get him a big fucking statue. It’s good publicity.”

Y/N shares a look with Ben. “What d’you think?”

Thoughtfully, Ben clicks his tongue. He supposes it’s the best deal they can get, and declining it would probably get them nowhere, although he hates everything about it.

Swallowing, the former supe nods. “Alright, let’s fucking do this,” he agrees and states his conditions, “But for the record, I’m not moving to shit-ass Florida. I want a nice lake house in Minnesota.”

Victoria rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever. Minnesota it is.”

“You okay? You ready?” Y/N checks as Ben has made it up the stone steps and halts in front of the big, red door.

“I don’t know. You really think this is a good idea? I’m not sure I can do this,” Ben says and insecurely eyes the entrance.

“You’ll do great, alright?” Y/N smiles encouragingly. “I believe in you.”

“I don’t wanna do this alone. What if I fuck up?” Ben asks.

Amused, Y/N chuckles. “Oh, you’re for sure gonna fuck up.”

The green-eyed man scowls. “That’s fucking reassuring. Thanks.”

“Look, this way you won’t be alone. I’ll wire you money every month and check in as much as I can, alright? You can always call me. This isn’t the end,” Y/N soothes his worries. “Maybe one day there’s a cure that’ll work, and we can be together again for real.”

She forces a weak smile to her lips, although she doesn’t believe her own words. But as long as Ben believes them, it’s enough.

“Okay.” Ben nods and takes a deep breath – in through his nose and out through his mouth. “I think I’m ready now.”

“Good.” Y/N sends him a smile. “You thought of a new name yet?”

“I’m still marinating on it,” Ben grumbles.

“Well, marinate faster. I have to introduce you.”

As they enter the orphanage, Y/N checks them in at the reception and fills out all necessary forms. Ben taps his foot nervously and scratches the back of his neck as they wait before one of Y/N’s former colleagues walks in with a little boy in hand, who’s no older than five.

Ben tries to smile but isn’t sure if it looks creepy, so he stops and opts for a more neutral expression. Y/N, however, immediately kneels down to the young boy and smiles brightly at him. It causes Ben’s heart to ache. She deserved to have all of this, but instead, she gave it all up for him.

“Hey, Benny,” she greets the boy. “You ready to meet your new adoptive parent?”

The boy scrunches his brow in careful suspicion as he eyes his future father-to-be. “I guess so,” he says. “Is that him? He looks like he drives a fucking minivan and offers candy to kids. Are you sure he’s not a pedo, Ms. Y/N?”

Ben purses his lips, biting the insides of his cheeks. The initial smile was definitely a mistake. They’re not off to a good start.

Y/N presses her lips together to muffle her snort. “Yes, Benny, I’m sure,” she replies patiently. “He’s cool, trust me.”

“Fine, whatever.” The kid rolls his eyes. “As long as he’s not fucking vegan like Ms. Teresa. They’re the worst.”

“Ugh, agreed! Do I look like a fucking plant-shitter to you?” Ben asks the boy rhetorically.

“No, you look like a fucking pedo to me,” the boy retorts.

Ben grins broadly at Y/N. “I like the kid. I think I get what you mean now. I see the resemblance.”

“Well, great. Glad you two are hitting it off… I think,” Y/N says with a crinkled brow, although a part of her is doubting her idea. Honestly, it’s wild she’s trusting him with a child. A year ago she would’ve thought that it was insane. “Alright, uh, Benny, this is, uhm–”

“Sam,” Ben proudly introduces himself with his fake name and shakes the kid’s hand. He then notices Y/N’s strange look. “What?”

“Nothing, just… you don’t really strike me as a Sam. That’s all,” she tells him in a whisper-tone, shrugging.

“Oh, really? Well, I don’t give a fuck. I love it,” Ben quips, grinning rather smugly.

“Fine.” Y/N sighs. She turns back to little Ben with a smile. “You guys ready to hit the road?”

“Where are we going?” Benny asks curiously and promptly takes Ben’s hand, dragging the older man through the doors. He’s been waiting to get out of the orphanage for a while, the excitement of finally being able to leave visible in every step he takes.

It’s a fresh start for both of them.

“Uh, Mount Rushmore,” Ben answers.

“Cool! Can we get burgers on the way there? I’m starving.”

“Sure can, kid.”

Y/N can see Ben’s initial hesitance until he eventually accepts it and eases into the situation, holding the boy’s hand tightly. He helps the kid into the car, even puts the seatbelt on, and shuts the door behind him.

Her heart twinges as she watches the two, wishing she could go with them if things were different. However, she knows the risk is too big. She would never forgive herself if she hurt either of them. She doesn’t trust herself enough yet. Maybe someday she can.

“You okay?” Ben asks as he sees the unshed tears brimming in her eyes. He’d dreaded this day for the past few weeks, hoping she’d still change her mind. He hates that this is goodbye, but he supposes he has to set her free now.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Y/N says with a forced smile, but a tear escapes and rolls down her cheek.

“C’mere.”

Y/N protests as Ben slings his arms around her and pulls her flush against him, holding her tightly. He hasn’t touched her since that night, but he doesn’t care anymore. He presses his lips against hers and tastes her one last time.

Breathlessly, Y/N withdraws and sniffles. “Are you fucking insane? I could kill you.”

Ben simply smiles at her. “Hey, if I die kissing you, then that’s a fucking great way to go out. ‘Sides, insanity is contagious,” he quips and sends her a wink. “Thank you… for everything, you know?”

“You’re welcome,” she says quietly and swallows harshly as the tears fall freely now. Not every film has a happy ending. “I guess I’ve done my job as your sponsor. You’ve been successfully rehabilitated.”

Ben snorts. “If by that you mean I’m fucking boring and responsible now then yeah, you’ve done your job.”

“You won’t be bored for long. The kid’s already trying to hotwire the car,” Y/N tells him, laughing.

“Wha–” Ben spins around and points a warning finger at the boy. “Ay! Hands in your fucking lap!”

The kid raises his palms in surrender and yells, “Hurry the fuck up!”

With a shaking head, Ben turns back to her. “Gotta watch that kid like an eagle,” he mutters. He exhales a dreaded breath and licks his lips. “So, I guess this is goodbye, huh?”

Y/N smiles softly, the corners of her mouth reaching her dimples. “Maybe.”

Little Ben gets me every time 😂 Alright, now you may yell and complain, but I love this bittersweet ending 🥲 (But of course, you're welcome to send in requests. Whether it's deleted scenes, bonus shots of a potential future, or some fun Big Ben/Little Ben drabbles)

Thank you so much for reading, for your gifs and comments! It's so appreciated! Without them, this would only be half the fun 🤍

I'll announce future plans soon. The final five of Plastic Hearts will probably be next up. Get ready 'cause it's another wild one! 🌟

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @imsapphine @globetrotter28

Series Tags: @nancymcl @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @sparkydonugh

#rehab #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy reader insert #the boys reader insert #the boys x reader #the boys amazon #the boys season 3 #the boys fanfic #soldier boy fanfic

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hiswordsarekisses · 8 months ago

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“This is what the actual death of Jesus would have looked like if we are to be realistic. His death is not depicted in the movies as to what most likely would have actually happened in the days of Roman Crucifixion. This article is realistically more of what took place that infamous day.

(The physical Death Of Jesus )

“In 1986, The American Medical Association published an article titled "The Physical Death of Jesus Christ". It details the entire process of Jesus' trial to His death on the cross. In Luke 22, before Jesus is arrested, it is written that He was in great distress & sweating blood. Although rare, it is recognized as Hematidrosis, caused by high amounts of stress.

At the time, the crucifixion was considered the worst death for the worst of criminals. But this is not all Jesus faced. He endured whipping so severe that it tore the flesh from His body. He was beaten so horrific that His face was torn & His beard ripped. A crown of thorns, 2-3 inches long cut deeply into His scalp. The leather whip used to flog Him had tiny iron balls & sharp bones. The balls caused internal injuries while the sharp bones ripped open His flesh. His skeletal muscles, veins, & bowels we're exposed, causing major blood loss. Most men do not survive this kind of torture. After Jesus was severely flogged, He was forced to carry His own cross while people mocked & spat on Him.

Crucifixion was a process meant to instill excruciating pain, creating a slow & agonizing death. Nails as long as 8 inches were driven into Jesus' wrists & feet. The Roman soldiers knew the tendon in the wrists would tear & break, forcing Jesus to use His back muscles to support Himself to breathe. Imagine the struggle, the pain, the courage..Jesus endured this reality for 3 hours!

The Gospel of John writes that after Jesus' death, a Roman soldier pierced His side with a spear & blood & water came out. Scientists explain that from hypovolemic shock, the rapid heartrate causes fluid to gather in the sac

(Posted by a friend on Facebook)

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star-girl69 · 2 years ago

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Keep Me Ablaze

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: am i evil? probably. i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: mentions of fire, mentions of death, a little fighting, mentions of being tied up, crying, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Sixteen- Mothers & Fathers

—-

Grace keeps a box on her bookshelf. She calls it her sister box, and she used to cry whenever she looked at it too long. In it, she keeps a marriage certificate, a photo, and two death certificates.

You don’t have much of your mother, only the sister box and the videos she left behind, her lab coat. But you truly have nothing of your father.

Besides for the stories, of course.

As a marine, arriving in the same squadron as Colonel Quaritch, the two of them rose up the ranks with each other. Where Quaritch was, your father was a step behind. Quaritch even respected your mother enough, so it was natural to him to promise his friend that he would look after you.

They both knew that Pandora was dangerous, and they both knew what could happen. Martin dying was not only devastating to your family, but was a major blow to the general’s ego. One of his own soldiers? His own friend?

He told you about your father, protected you, and you thought you knew him well enough. But slowly, after seeing what his soldiers did, seeing him punch Jake, you realize you never even knew him at all.

You didn’t expect him to replace your father, to be your best friend, maybe you didn’t even know what you expected. But you didn’t expect this.

“You let me down, son.” He presses pause on the screen.

You stand anxiously behind Jake, rubbing your aching wrists from being tied up. You want to just grab the handlebars and push him out of there, back to the link room.

He leans down, face inches from Jake’s. You want to kiss the bruise on his face.

“So, what, you find yourself some local tail and you just completely forget what team you’re playing for?”

“Her name… is Neytiri,” you hiss, fists clenching. The Colonel has taken so much from Neytiri- the least he can do is say her name.

Quaritch let’s out a dry laugh.

“Parker,” Grace barks, “there is still time to salvage this situation. Parker…”

“Shut your pie hole!” Quaritch shouts, standing so he faces your aunt.

“Grace,” you say, wanting to reach out and pull her back, but you’re rooted in place.

“Or what, Ranger Rick?” she scoffs. “You gonna shoot me?”

“I can do that,” he bites back.

Grace shakes her head in disbelief. “You need to muzzle your dog,” she hisses to Parker.

“Yeah, can we just take this down a couple of notches, please?” he starts, arms crossed as he puts himself in between the two, like one lonely sandbag facing an entire hurricane.

“You say you want to keep your people alive?” Jake asks, chin pointed up. “You start by listening to her.”

“Those trees were sacred to the Omaticaya in a way you can’t imagine,” Grace says, but Parker only rolls his eyes and steps back.

“Oh, you know what? You throw a stick in the around around her, it’s gonna land on some scared fern, for Christ’s sake!” he shouts, his tone makes mocking, as he circles around you.

“I’m not talking about some kind of pagan voodoo here,” Grace shoots back. “I’m talking about something real, something measurable in the biology of the forest.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

Grace sighs. “What we think we know is that there is some kind of electrochemical communication between the roots of the trees, like the synapses between neurons.”

Parker narrows his eyes, face twisting into something ugly, disbelieving.

“It’s a system,” you blurt. “There’s connections between all of the trees, like this entire world is some sort of brain. And each tree has ten-to-the-fourth connections to the trees around it. And there are ten-to-the-twelfth trees on Pandora.”

It feels good to go back to what you know, to recite what you have learned through years at your Aunt’s side, from the videos your mother left. The slides and documents and samples you poured over mean something.

“Which is a lot, I’m guessing.”

“It’s more connections than the human brain,” Grace says, taking a few steps forward, as if she can force the awe of Pandora into him. “Get it? It’s a network. It’s a global network, and the Na’vi can access it. They can upload and download data. Memories. At sites like the one you just destroyed.”

Despite the grimness of the day, you cannot help but smile at your Aunt’s joy. She loves Pandora more than she loves herself.

“Yes!” she exclaims again, mistaking Parker’s silence for understanding.

He starts laughing. “What the hell have you people been smoking out there? They’re just goddamn trees!”

Grace throws her hands out, “you need to wake up, Parker.”

“No. You need to wake up.” His smile drops as quickly as it was there.

“The wealth of this world isn’t in the ground,” Grace interrupts. “It’s all around us. The Na’vi know that, and they are fighting to defend it. If you want to share this world with them, you need to understand them. You need to listen to my niece, to Neytiri, to all of them.”

“I’d say we understand them just fine…” Quaritch starts, hitting a few buttons on the screen, “thanks to Jake here. Take a look, sweetheart.” He holds his hand out to you, and you step around Jake-

“No, Y/N, don’t- don’t look, please-” he starts, and your start to frown, staring at the plead in his eyes, feeling the desperation in his grip.

But you hear his voice.

It sounds different, coming from the screen, more robotic, but still him.

“They’re not gonna give up their home,” he says. “They’re not gonna make a deal. F-for what? Lite beer? And blue jeans? There’s nothing that we have that they want.”

You think he says more, but the world is starting to crash in on you, and it feels like you’re burning alive- but it feels nothing like when you burn with them.

“I… I have to go,” you mutter, tears in your eyes, and Jake tries to grab onto your hand.

“Baby, please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

“No!” you screech, throwing his hand off of you, and he doesn’t try and touch you again. “I have to go.”

“Where?” he says, “where? You can’t-”

And what could he say? You can’t leave the base? You can’t get hurt? You cant stop loving me?

“To Neytiri,” you sob.

—-

The first thing you say when you wake up is her name.

You barely even say it, it is more like a frenzied gasp with the same number of syllables. She’s there immediately, and you recognize the Tsahik’s room deep in Hometree, the smell of herbs filling your nose.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and your eyes are still blurry, movements still sluggish, trying to adjust. It’s harder, when your mind is not really in it. “What’s wrong, my human?” she coos, her hand on your face, the other around your waist, helping you sit up so she can pull your head against her shoulder.

“Jake,” you say, vision clearer, voice returning. But you were crying when you climbed into the link pod, and the tears return now, tenfold, even while you’re in her arms.

Her eyes flick to his lifeless body.

“He knew,” you breathe, “he knew, I have to tell Eytukan, and- and Mo’at, Neytiri, please,”

She stares at you for a moment longer, confusion written on her features, and you think she might just dismiss you as crazy and force you to rest. But she must see something in you, see past your reckless emotions, so she nods, slightly unsure.

“We’ll go see them,” she soothes, already shifting to her knees, running her hand over your hair. “It’s okay,” she says, but it doesn’t feel okay. It will never feel okay again.

—-

After Neytiri helped you stand, pressed her hand to your chest and forced you to breathe in and out, you managed to have some reign on your emotions. Betrayal still stung at you like a thousand cuts, but you had to push it aside.

You were one of The People now, and you had to at least warn them. But you didn’t even know what was going to happen. All you know is that Jake is a traitor- and that the humans plan to come.

Neytiri still wraps her hand in your own, and you suppose it would be worrying to see your mate wake up, panicking and crying, so you cannot blame her for her worried grip. You like it.

“Father! Mother!” Neytiri calls in Na’vi, and you breathe deeply, even deeper when her hand drops from yours.

“I-” you scramble to translate the words, “Eytukan,” you start, when another voice rings out.

“Eytukan! I have something to say.”

His Na’vi is rough and choppy like waves in a storm, but his emotions and the pleading in his eyes makes everyone understand the importance.

“Listen!” Grace shouts.

You want to jump at Jake, burn him at a pyre, attack him and kiss him all at once.

“No!” you screech, pointing a finger at him. “He is a traitor-”

“Y/N!” Grace shouts, her eyes cutting to you, and she has never yelled at you like this before, never looked at you with such annoyance and anger in her eyes. You shut up just out of shock.

Neytiri’s arm slides across your chest, pulling you flush against her. You can feel her confusion, the tension in her chest. She carries her emotions physically, and you can feel her shallow breaths.

“Speak, Jakesully,” Eytukan says, holding a hand out, ignoring your outburst. Jake plays his character well. Why is Grace even standing next to him? Your stomach sinks. What could have happened?

“A great evil is upon us… The Sky People are coming… to destroy Hometree.”

Neytiri’s arm squeezes against you, breath quickening, and you want to say something, anything, but you can’t.

You have grown accustomed to losing all your life, but you have never felt something being so viciously taken from you like now.

“Tell them they’re coming!” Jake shouts, and Grace is quick to translate.

“You have to leave, or you’re gonna die.” Jake reiterates.

“Are you certain of this?” Mo’at asks.

Jake breathes so heavily for a moment, and tears well in your eyes again, and you reach up to grab Neytiri’s arm.

“Look, they sent me here to learn your ways so one day I could bring this message and you would believe it.” You can feel Neytiri falter against you. “But not- not Y/N. It was me.”

You can feel the understanding sink into Neytiri’s bones.

Her breathes go wild, and she lets go of you, and you imagine pieces connecting in her head with each step she takes. A puzzle falling into place. You, waking up crying, your cries of “he knows”, what Jake just said.

She puts her hand on his shoulder, grabbing his attention and forcing it on her. The decision to look at her seems easy to Jake, and your stomach rolls.

“What are you saying, Jake? You knew this would happen?”

You take two steps forward, almost hopeful you’ve hallucinated what happened before, and he’ll say no and everything will be back to how it was.

But when he gulps, says “yes”, the grief and the pain of it all hits you tenfold.

“Look, at first it was just orders,” Neytiri lowers her eyes, taking in his words, and fresh tears fall down your face. “And then everything changed.” She sways backward, and he grabs her shoulder, before turning to you and reaching for your hand.

And you are burning and miserable and in love with him, so you let him tug you forward.

“Okay? I fell in love. I fell in love with the forest and with the Omaticaya people. I fell in love with Y/N,” he squeezes your hand, “and with you.”

She bats his hand away. “I trusted you.” It is an accusation.

“With you,” he pleads, pulling you closer, trying to keep his hold on Neytiri. “With both of you.”

“I trusted you!” she sobs, and throws his hand off of her, reaches out and hits his other, so he has no choice but to let go of you too.

“Trust me now,”

His hand falling from yours is like the final ember of the fire fading, the last song, the last cheer. It makes you realize that this is all there ever was. No love, not with Jake Sully, only betrayal.

She screams in Na’vi, and you lower your head to the ground, knees threatening to fall out from under you, too distraught to translate her words.

You hear her hands hit against his chest, and he lets her.

“You will never be one of The People!”

“I shouldn’t have…” he breathes.

“We tried to stop them!” Grace shouts.

You press your hands over your face, listen to Neytiri yell more, singing her song that sounds like sobbing, like sorrow, cry into your palms.

You recognize Grace’s hands anywhere. Her fingers wrap around your wrist, and she takes them from your face, pressing them to her heart.

“My baby,” she starts, but you will know betrayal today.

“Did you know? Did you know what he was doing?”

You want her to say no. You have never wished for anything more.

“I-” she tilts her head to the side, smiles, but it doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “You’re so much like your mother, baby, so much-”

“Tell me, tell me,” you sob, trying to pull away, but she won’t let you.

She swallows. “I- I had my suspicions, but I didn’t know for sure-”

“You knew!” you cry, and she lets you push her away, and your feet are so unsteady. Jake and Neytiri made you feel like a continent. They gave you roots, a place to settle, a home to return to. But without Jake, with half of you missing, you feel like an island.

Your knees and shaking, and you push past her, try to push past him, eyes filled with so many tears you can barely see in front of you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you hear his voice, feel his hands, “I’m sorry, I-”

“Let go of her!” Tsu’tey yells, pulling you toward him. “She is one of The People,” he hisses, digging the knife Neytiri threw at Jake deeper.

“Bind them,” Eytukan orders, even as Grace screams that they can’t, they have to leave, but Jake only lets them bind him.

You feel like a flower from Grace’s book, wilting and dying. Your happiness, you bloom was quick. The next time you look up, it is Mo’at before you.

“Ma’ite,” she calls you, before leading you through the crowd, guiding you into Neytiri’s arms.

You fall against her, like the final petal, and she sobs into your neck, breathes you in, maybe trying to calm herself. She has to be strong for her people- you have to be strong for her, for them.

But all you can smell is something burning.

—-

taglist:

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everything taglist:

@monsterwasstolen @fanboyluvr @artologia-blog1 @tulipatheticee @elvyshiarieko @fluffisalliwant @fluffi19 @jeizllz @myheartfollower @fy-fy-world @minkyungseokie @ivy-plays @blueberryfailureclinic

#jake sully x neytiri #jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 1 year ago

Text

Ten Years Earlier...

All right, it's my first COD fic and it's smut (there's a running theme happening today). This is oc x canon which is know is not everyone's jam (DLDR). Also my first time writing Captain Price (so be gentle with me folks)

Set in 2012, Rory Sinclair (my oc) is a Corporal with the British army on leave and she just so happens to run into a certain Captain (Lieutenant at the time, this is mutton chop free John) at a bar where they share a bathroom cubicle together.

words: 3339

Pairing: Captain Price x OC

Fandon: Call of Duty: MW

Smut under the cut, 18+ MINORS DNI

P in V sex, hand jobs, fingering, semi-public sex, protected sex, stranger sex, with a big old heaping of praise and voice kink on top.

2012 - London, England - Lost Society Bar, Clapham 21:00

Rory shivered as the night air kissed her bare shoulders. The bass beat of the rock music playing inside thumping in her skull the same way the heavy wheels of an armored vehicle did. The kick of the drum, the steady march of boots. Blowing out the last puff of smoke from her cigarette, she stubbed out the butt on the railing she was leaning over and headed back inside to the attic club.

Five years she’d been fighting in Afghanistan, and leave always felt far too short compared to the time spent on the ground. Her father told her to take the time she was given and have some fun, it wasn’t too often a hero got to come home and rest, to everyone else she knew that meant going out on a Saturday night and getting piss drunk for fun.

Sydney, her best friend in the trenches, a perky blonde who had the choice of the army or a juvenile detention center in Aberdeen all those years ago, took her by the arm. “Come on, happy hour’s starting.”

“I don’t think I need anymore, Syd.”

“Fuck off, you and me are out to get hammered and then head home with some fit blokes. We spent enough time getting shot at, I intend to get bent over and fucking railed.”

Rory rolled her eyes but followed her friend to the bar, ordering a whiskey – neat – while Sydney lined up a row of vodka shots, quickly tossing them down her neck. Sipping from her glass, she leaned her back against the bar, her elbows propped up on the counter as she scanned the bar’s makeshift dance floor. She couldn’t help her instincts kicking in, her battle-ready brain having her scan for threats… or perhaps a partner .

Sydney tossed another shot back, her long lengths of hair shaking as she had a full body shiver, the liquor burning the back of her throat. “You need to relax, Ror. You’re going to scare the lads away. They can smell the fear on you like a pack of wild dogs.”

“Jesus Christ, Syd, I’m just getting the lay of the land.”

“We’re not in the fucking desert.” Tapping Rory’s army, she drank her last shooter and grabbed Rory’s hand to drag her to the dance floor. “Come on.”

“Nah, I’m gonna stay at the bar for a while. Might get a cab home soon.”

“Spoil sport,” Sydney huffed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rory said with a wave of her hand, unfazed by her friends mocking. “Have fun.”

“Whatever you say, Corporal,” Syd gave her a quick salute – which was nicer than the flip of the bird Rory had expected – before heading into the crowd, leaving her fellow soldier to her own company.

Sighing, she took another sip of the amber liquor, her elbow knocking against the forearm of another, and her hazel eyes drifted over to a stocky man with a five o’clock shadow, his blue eyes sparkling as he met her with a smirk. “Sorry, love.”

Pulling her arms in towards herself, she gave him a friendly smile. “My fault, sorry.”

His brow furrowed slightly, leaning in towards her so he didn’t have to yell over the music. “Are you American?”

“No.” She shook her head, her long brown ponytail swaying against her shoulders. “Canadian.”

His smirk grew a little wider, blue eyes gleaming. “Should’ve figured that when you actually apologized.”

“Our reputation precedes us, eh?” She teased, putting on a heavier, more distinct Canadian accent, the kind that brought to mind Mounties and maple syrup.

“Only a little, yeah.” He waved at the barkeeper trying to get their attention. “On vacation then?”

“No. On leave – just got back from Afghanistan.”

He looked her over, straightening in his seat. His smile fading as he blinked rapidly for a moment, caught off guard to see someone like her as a soldier. “No shit.”

Her new friend tried once more to get the attention of the barkeeper, waving his hand, failing to even get a glance. Placing her hand on top of his, she winked, “Allow me.” Bringing her fingers to her lips, she whistled, the high pitch squeal enough to grab the barkeep's attention. Adding a wave and a smile on top of it, ensuring she was served next, she turned back to the man beside her and continued their conversation, “Why? You too?”

“Urzikstan.” He said, nodding.

He spoke in short, abrupt sentences. His voice gruff. She should have known he was a soldier. Her brows raised as she hummed into her drink, taking a sip and then hissing at the burn. “Small world.”

“Apparently.”

When the barkeeper came over, she was quick to continue the interaction. “Another whiskey for me, and one for my friend here?” She asked him with a cock of her brow.

“Yeah, whiskey’s good.” His grin was charming. The way his brow lifted, and his jaw shifted as he looked her up and down enough to tell her he was interested. “I’m going to have to remember that trick, though I doubt it’ll work as well for me.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She stretches her arms out, pushing away from the bar. It had been so goddamn long since she’d flirted with anyone. “You’re handsome enough,” she said with a playful nod of her head.

He gave her a half smile and tapped the corner of his lighter on the counter, shifting his shoulders. “Glad someone thinks so.”

She leaned against the counter with one elbow, twirling the length of her ponytail around her fingers, her attention firmly planted on him. “Please, a strapping soldier like you, I’m sure you have a port in every storm,” she said half jokingly, but almost expecting it to be true.

“Not really my thing,” he said with a slight narrowing of his eyes, his voice lowering.

Looking up at him through her lashes, the lump in her throat suddenly formed. She could feel the flush coming on and she held out her hand to formally greet him before she said something that might get her in trouble. “I’m Rory. Rory Sinclair.”

“John Price.”

Shaking hands, he held her tight in his grip and she could feel the calluses on his palm brush up against her. She couldn’t help but notice how tiny her hand looked in comparison to his, and suddenly the battle-ready brain went quiet. On her own, dressed in a cocktail dress and heels, the combat gear nowhere in sight, she licked her lips, her mouth opened, and a soft sigh drifted from her.

…

The bathroom stall door burst open as John pushed her back into the cubicle, pressing her into the wall, their mouths locked in a kiss. Closing the door, he fumbled with the lock for a moment before his hand returned to her waist, the other with a firm grip on her jaw as he tilted her mouth up to meet his. Breathless, her hands grabbed at his back as she held him tighter to her. “I never do this sort of a thing,” she mumbled between kisses. Nodding, he kissed her harder, his lips overtaking hers, and she moaned into his mouth. Hands slipping to his belt, she started to undo the buckle. Fighting with it, struggling, a nervous chuckle slipped from her as his large hands held hers.

Breaking their kiss, he gave her a smile and a wink. “Lemme help you with that, love.” With a quick motion, his belt came loose. He had deft hands, used to having to work fast while under fire. Taking a piss in the desert sometimes meant life or death.

Her hand rose to his shoulder, curling around the back of his head to pull him in for another kiss, and she purred as a hand drifted up the warm skin of her thighs, fingers trailing up the hem of her skirt to rest on the waistband of her thong. His fingertips just skimmed her flesh under the material, but it was enough to send a shiver through her. Looking down at herself, her dress hiked up around her waist, and his hands hooked through her panties, she weighed out her options. She was on the pill, but…

“Have you got protection?”

“A good soldier never goes in unprepared.”

She huffed out a laugh and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, shifting his hand to slip down the front of her panties, resting it against her mound. Heat radiated off her, building as his fingers began to stroke her folds. Swallowing thickly, her mouth felt dry, and she licked her lips. Already aroused from them kissing, his touch was setting her on fire, biting her lip to hold in her moan as his thumb pressed to her clit.

“Already wet for me, Rory?” He purred, his northern accent getting thicker as he leaned down towards her, his mouth sucking on her neck, his tongue dragging against her thumping veins.

“I said you were handsome,” she breathed.

Chuckling, he pressed his free hand to the wall by her head, caging her in against the cubicle wall until she was pressed flush against it. Rubbing circles against her throbbing clit, his other fingers began to delve into her dripping cunt. Entering her, stretching her, sinking deeper inside of her. Pumping in and out. Slowly. His kisses became slower, deeper. His lips bruising hers, her pink pout made swollen and sore. With a lick of his lips, his tongue entered her mouth, and she could taste the smoke and liquor on his breath.

Sliding her hand down the front of his boxers, she wrapped her slender fingers around the head of his hard cock, and it throbbed against her touch. Her fist slowly lowering along his shaft to the base, dragging the pre-cum that leaked from his cock down it, and a groan fell from his lips. Stroking him over and over, squeezing slightly as she did so, her eyes were glued to his. A hungry gleam in her stare, watching as his brow furrowed and he started to pant, a low growl building in his chest as his kisses became rougher, trailing from her mouth down her neck, and further still to her collar bone.

His hand, once pressed to the wall, slipped down her shoulder and over her chest, sliding down the front of her dress, and in past the cup of her bra. He squeezed her breast, pinching her nipple until she whined. His other hand still fucking into her, making her a whimpering mess. She bucked her hips up against him, driving his fingers in deeper. Writhing up against the wall, her back arching as he brought her close to her climax. Mumbling against his kiss, “Please, fuck me.”

Looking up at her through his brow, he gave her a smile. His voice kept low, “Oh, I like the way you beg, darling.”

Her breath hitched in her throat, the knot in her core tightening and right on the verge of snapping under his touch. Her legs started to shake, her knees damn near buckling. “Please,” she whispers a little softer.

His hand fell to the underside of her thigh, clamping around it as he lifted her leg, her knee parallel with his hip. Pulling her panties to the side, he lined up the head of his cock with her entrance and thrust up into her, giving her a moment to settle around him. Gasping as he pushed up into her, stretching her more than his fingers did, she sank down onto his shaft and a low moan escaped her, her eyes rolling back at how full she felt.

“That’s it, love. You can take it, can’t you?” He cooed into her ear, praising her as he stroked her thigh gently with his thumb. Thrusting his hips slowly, he dragged the first few inches of his cock in and out of her, her arousal allowing him to slide easily inside of her with little friction. She could do nothing but nod, her mind too addled by the feeling of his cock inside of her to even think straight enough to speak. She hadn’t been fucked in so long, she barely had the time to masturbate if she wasn’t at the barracks or back home, and here was this fucking man to take her.

“That’s a good girl,” his gruff tone sent a shiver down her spine, and she grabbed at his waist, pushing him in deeper, forcing a grunt out of him. His brow quirked up, and his blue eyes twinkled. She wasn’t some weak, timid little thing. “You want more, darling?”

“Yeah, I do.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and encircled his waist with her legs. Lifting her up in his arms, her back was shoved up against the flimsy wall of the bathroom stall, a breathy laugh escaping them both as their exploits made a thunderous bang.

“I can give you more.” He let his jeans and underwear slip down his legs, wrapping around his knees and pooling at his feet, as he fucked up harder into her, filling her with as much of his length as she could take. His gaze fell to where his cock disappeared inside of her, watching as it stroked back and forth, in and out of her, glistening because of her. “Fucking hell. Your cunt feels fucking incredible. So fucking tight,” he groaned out.

She had no answer, no response, all she could do was moan. Her cunt clenching around him, dripping all over his cock. She kissed him, hard . Her teeth dragging against his lower lip as she curled her hips up towards him, rocking against him as he continued to thrust, bouncing her up and down as his hips met with hers. The smack of skin on skin clapping together filling the bathroom even as other patrons entered and exited. It didn’t matter now, wrapped up in his arms, her head spinning – the good Canadian girl had been put to bed.

Her head lolled back as she could feel the muscles in her legs tighten, squeezing around him, locking him in. “Jesus fucking Christ,” she growled, her nails dragging across his shoulders. The base of her spine felt like it was on fire, a quick stinging cramp, and suddenly she went rigid, fighting to get out words as she came, “You are so fucking hot.”

His laugh was warm and genuine, smiling against her lips as he kissed her, stealing what little of her breath she had left. “Much appreciated, love,” he stuttered between the bucking of his hips. “I’m getting close, you mind –?” He eyed down at his jeans on the floor.

“Oh, shit, yeah. Sorry .”

His grin was unable to fade as she continued apologizing. “And to think I thought you were American.”

She rolled her eyes and loosened the grip of her thighs around his waist as he lowered her back to the floor. Bending down, he looked up at her, his glance drifting to her cunt and the sheen of her arousal on the inside of her thighs. His tongue dragged across his lips before grabbing the condom from his jeans and standing up.

“Yeah, you really don’t have a port in every storm,” she teased.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. Bringing the condom wrapper to his mouth, he tore it open and pulled out the rubber, slipping it down his still hard cock. His gaze drifted over her again, taking in her curves before focusing on her eyes. “You really are lovely.”

“Am I?” She said, with hands on her hips, pretending not to have fallen for his charms already.

He nodded, his hand collecting her chin before he kissed her again – slow, languishing, heated. “Why don’t you turn around for me,” he purred. A hint of a command in his voice.

She looked up at him and smiled, her cheeks blushing as she turned around and lifted up her dress for him once more. Glancing at him over her shoulder, he gave her another smirk as he dragged his fingers along his tongue and ran them between her thighs and across the folds of her still soaking cunt. Saddling himself up against her, grabbing her hips, he tucked up against her ass and pushed up into her still needy cunt. A tight fit at first, as he started to move inside of her again, penetrating her, she started to open like a flower.

Rory moaned, resting her forehead against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut as he filled her to the brim. Slipping his hand down the front of her panties, he stroked her clit while squeezing her hip with the other hand. His thrusts were powerful, determined. Her nails dragged down against the wall with nothing to cling to, her breath fighting to leave her as she mewled, pressed up against it with nowhere to go. “Feels so fucking good. Jesus, god , your cock is amazing.”

His mouth fell to her neck, sucking yet more hickeys on her skin. Leaving his mark. “Yeah? You like that?”

“Mhmm,” her teeth dragged over her lip, and she was getting close all over again. Grabbing at his hand between her legs, she was forced to stop him as another wave washed over her and her knees nearly gave out under her.

“Easy there, darling.” He held her, his body pressed tight against her, keeping her safe. Protected. “I’ll be gentle with you now, eh?” He whispered, nuzzling into the crook of her neck, his stubble burning her.

She wrapped her arm around the back of his neck, clinging to him as he kissed her. His thrusts slowing, getting deeper. Groaning against her, mumbling her name as he got closer to the edge himself. His grip got tighter on her hip, his pace no longer maintained, his breath huffing out against her in hot blasts, fanning against her neck. “So fucking pretty.” His arm snaked around her waist. His. “God, I’m so fucking close.” His fingers dug into her hip, hard enough to bruise and with the last few stuttering thrusts, he came inside her.

They stood there together, two strangers, only knowing each other’s name and occupation, and yet he held her tight. His hand trailing up her waist and letting her dress slip back down to cover her thighs as he slowly pulled away from her, trying to catch his breath.

Fixing her dress and running a hand over her forehead and down the side of her face, she turned around to face him. They stood there, staring, not sure what to say to each other. “Listen, I, uh –” she stammered and looked down at her heels as he grabbed his underwear and jeans from the floor, pulling them back up his legs. “I’m only on leave for a few weeks, I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

“Not to worry, love. I’m in the same boat.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smirk.

“I mean, it was…” she exhaled deeply, “It was very good. I would totally call you again.”

He clenched his jaw and smiled at her, his brow creasing as he looked up at her from under it. “You don’t have to stroke my ego, darling. I get it.”

“Well, um, I guess if I see you out there in the field, or whatever…”

He kissed her again, leaning over her. “Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?” Hazel eyes stared at his mouth as he spoke, his voice low and gravely. “It was nice meeting you, Rory.”

“You too, John.”

Saying nothing more, he ducked out of the stall, leaving her there to clean up. She shoved the door to the stall closed and couldn’t help but giggle to herself. Syd was right, they were there to get bent over and railed after all.

That was certainly one way to spend her leave.

#skelly writes #call of duty #cod mw2 #captain john price #captain price smut #captain price x oc #oc: rory sinclair #ship: you are the sword to my shield #cod fanfiction

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mybeautifulchristianjourney · 7 months ago

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Jesus Brought before Pilate

1 When morning came, all the chief priests and the elders of the people conferred together against Jesus in order to bring about his death. 2 They bound him, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate the governor.

The Suicide of Judas

3 When Judas, his betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he repented and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. 4 He said, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” But they said, “What is that to us? See to it yourself.” 5 Throwing down the pieces of silver in the temple, he departed, and he went and hanged himself. 6 But the chief priests, taking the pieces of silver, said, “It is not lawful to put them into the treasury, since they are blood money.” 7 After conferring together, they used them to buy the potter’s field as a place to bury foreigners. 8 For this reason that field has been called the Field of Blood to this day. 9 Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah, “And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of the one on whom a price had been set, on whom some of the people of Israel had set a price, 10 and they gave them for the potter’s field, as the Lord commanded me.”

Pilate Questions Jesus

11 Now Jesus stood before the governor, and the governor asked him, “Are you the king of the Jews?” Jesus said, “You say so.” 12 But when he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he did not answer. 13 Then Pilate said to him, “Do you not hear how many accusations they make against you?” 14 But he gave him no answer, not even to a single charge, so that the governor was greatly amazed.

Barabbas or Jesus?

15 Now at the festival the governor was accustomed to release a prisoner for the crowd, anyone whom they wanted. 16 At that time they had a notorious prisoner called Jesus Barabbas. 17 So after they had gathered, Pilate said to them, “Whom do you want me to release for you, Jesus Barabbas or Jesus who is called the Messiah?” 18 For he realized that it was out of jealousy that they had handed him over. 19 While he was sitting on the judgment seat, his wife sent word to him, “Have nothing to do with that innocent man, for today I have suffered a great deal because of a dream about him.” 20 Now the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowds to ask for Barabbas and to have Jesus killed. 21 The governor again said to them, “Which of the two do you want me to release for you?” And they said, “Barabbas.” 22 Pilate said to them, “Then what should I do with Jesus who is called the Messiah?” All of them said, “Let him be crucified!” 23 Then he asked, “Why, what evil has he done?” But they shouted all the more, “Let him be crucified!”

Pilate Hands Jesus Over to Be Crucified

24 So when Pilate saw that he could do nothing but rather that a riot was beginning, he took some water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves.” 25 Then the people as a whole answered, “His blood be on us and on our children!” 26 So he released Barabbas for them, and after flogging Jesus he handed him over to be crucified.

The Soldiers Mock Jesus

27 Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the governor’s headquarters, and they gathered the whole cohort around him. 28 They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, 29 and after twisting some thorns into a crown they put it on his head. They put a reed in his right hand and knelt before him and mocked him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” 30 They spat on him and took the reed and struck him on the head. 31 After mocking him, they stripped him of the robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him away to crucify him.

The Crucifixion of Jesus

32 As they went out, they came upon a man from Cyrene named Simon; they compelled this man to carry his cross. 33 And when they came to a place called Golgotha (which means Place of a Skull), 34 they offered him wine to drink, mixed with gall, but when he tasted it, he would not drink it. 35 And when they had crucified him, they divided his clothes among themselves by casting lots; 36 then they sat down there and kept watch over him. 37 Over his head they put the charge against him, which read, “This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.”

38 Then two rebels were crucified with him, one on his right and one on his left. 39 Those who passed by derided him, shaking their heads 40 and saying, “You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself! If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross.” 41 In the same way the chief priests also, along with the scribes and elders, were mocking him, saying, 42 “He saved others; he cannot save himself. He is the King of Israel; let him come down from the cross now, and we will believe in him. 43 He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if he wants to, for he said, ‘I am God’s Son.’ ” 44 The rebels who were crucified with him also taunted him in the same way.

The Death of Jesus

45 From noon on, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. 46 And about three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” 47 When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, “This man is calling for Elijah.” 48 At once one of them ran and got a sponge, filled it with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink. 49 But the others said, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to save him.” 50 Then Jesus cried again with a loud voice and breathed his last. 51 At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, and the rocks were split. 52 The tombs also were opened, and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised. 53 After his resurrection they came out of the tombs and entered the holy city and appeared to many. 54 Now when the centurion and those with him, who were keeping watch over Jesus, saw the earthquake and what took place, they were terrified and said, “Truly this man was God’s Son!”

55 Many women were also there, looking on from a distance; they had followed Jesus from Galilee, ministering to him. 56 Among them were Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James and Joseph, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee.

The Burial of Jesus

57 When it was evening, there came a rich man from Arimathea named Joseph, who also was himself a disciple of Jesus. 58 He went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus; then Pilate ordered it to be given to him. 59 So Joseph took the body and wrapped it in a clean linen cloth 60 and laid it in his new tomb, which he had hewn in the rock. He then rolled a great stone to the door of the tomb and went away. 61 Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were there, sitting opposite the tomb.

The Guard at the Tomb

62 The next day, that is, after the day of Preparation, the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered before Pilate 63 and said, “Sir, we remember what that impostor said while he was still alive, ‘After three days I will rise again.’ 64 Therefore command the tomb to be made secure until the third day; otherwise, his disciples may go and steal him away and tell the people, ‘He has been raised from the dead,’ and the last deception would be worse than the first.” 65 Pilate said to them, “You have a guard of soldiers; go, make it as secure as you can.” 66 So they went with the guard and made the tomb secure by sealing the stone. — Matthew 27 | New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition (NRSVUE) New Revised Standard Version, Updated Edition. Copyright © 2021 National Council of Churches of Christ in the United States of America. All rights reserved worldwide. Cross References: Genesis 20:6; Genesis 31:11; Genesis 50:5; Exodus 21:32; Exodus 26:31; Numbers 4:5; Deuteronomy 21:6; Joshua 2:19; 1 Samuel 19:5; 1 Samuel 20:32; 2 Samuel 17:23; 2 Kings 13:21; 2 Kings 19:21; Psalm 22:8; Psalm 22:16; Psalm 31:13; Psalm 69:21; Psalm 71:10; Psalm 94:21; Isaiah 22:16; Isaiah 25:7; Isaiah 50:6; Isaiah 53:7; Isaiah 53:9; Jeremiah 1:1; Jeremiah 26:8; Daniel 6:17; Zechariah 11:12-13; Matthew 1:16; Matthew 2:2; Matthew 16:21; Matthew 17:23; Matthew 20:19; Matthew 26:61; Matthew 26:63; Matthew 28:1; Matthew 28:11; Matthew 28:14-5; Mark 7:11; Mark 15:2; Mark 15:5-6; Mark 15:15; 15:42-43; Luke 23:5; Luke 23:9; Luke 23:53-54; John 19:9; John 19:14; John 20:1; Acts 1:19; Acts 3:14; Acts 5:28; Acts 13:28; Romans 16:7; 1 Thessalonians 2:3; James 1:5; Hebrews 5:7

#Jesus Brought before Pilate #Judas hangs himself #Pilate Questions Jesus #the Crowd shouts for Barabbas #Jesus crucified #soldiers mock Jesus #death and burial of Jesus #the guard at the tomb #Gospel of Matthew #Matthew 27 #New Testament #NRSVUE #New Revised Standard Version Bible Updated Edition #National Council of Churches of Christ in the United States of America

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siena-sevenwits · 2 years ago

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This is hardly original, but tonight I'm obsessed with how in the Passion narratives, even the words and accidental prayers of Christ's enemies are fulfilled and proclaim Him.

And Pilate seeing that he prevailed nothing, but that rather a tumult was made; taking water washed his hands before the people, saying: "I am innocent of the blood of this just man; look you to it." And the whole people answering, said: "His blood be upon us and our children." (Matthew 27:24-25)

They mean it in the most horrific and bloodthirsty sense - let us be proud to have caused this man's death! - but looking at their actual words - could there be a better prayer if meant with love? Let His blood, lovingly shed for us, mark us for all time! Not just in our generation, but in all generations to come! Let His sacrifice ensure our redemption. Let His blood be our true drink.

And the soldiers also mocked him, coming to him... and saying: If thou be the king of the Jews, save thyself... And one of those robbers who were hanged, blasphemed him, saying: "If thou be Christ, save thyself and us." (from Luke 23:36-39)

And He does! He does! He doesn't save Himself from mockery, torture, and death in that moment - He fulfills the thief's mocking "prayer" in a far more thorough and incredible way - He reverses death itself! He makes it that death has no power over Himself nor us!

And there was also a superscription written over him in letters of Greek, and Latin, and Hebrew: THIS IS THE KING OF THE JEWS. (Luke 23:38)

Pilate's plaque accurately proclaims to the world, in the local and universal languages, just who this is dying on the cross. In spite of Himself, he unwittingly proclaims the truth, though he questions what truth even is.

It's just - wild. All creation is telling the glory of God, even when we most reject Him.

#sacred #faith

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myremnantarmy · 8 months ago

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𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝟐𝟒, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐆𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥

Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion

Mk 15:1-39

As soon as morning came,

the chief priests with the elders and the scribes,

that is, the whole Sanhedrin held a council.

They bound Jesus, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate.

Pilate questioned him,

“Are you the king of the Jews?”

He said to him in reply, “You say so.”

The chief priests accused him of many things.

Again Pilate questioned him,

“Have you no answer?

See how many things they accuse you of.”

Jesus gave him no further answer, so that Pilate was amazed.

Now on the occasion of the feast he used to release to them

one prisoner whom they requested.

A man called Barabbas was then in prison

along with the rebels who had committed murder in a rebellion.

The crowd came forward and began to ask him

to do for them as he was accustomed.

Pilate answered,

“Do you want me to release to you the king of the Jews?”

For he knew that it was out of envy

that the chief priests had handed him over.

But the chief priests stirred up the crowd

to have him release Barabbas for them instead.

Pilate again said to them in reply,

“Then what do you want me to do

with the man you call the king of the Jews?”

They shouted again, “Crucify him.”

Pilate said to them, “Why? What evil has he done?”

They only shouted the louder, “Crucify him.”

So Pilate, wishing to satisfy the crowd,

released Barabbas to them and, after he had Jesus scourged,

handed him over to be crucified.

The soldiers led him away inside the palace,

that is, the praetorium, and assembled the whole cohort.

They clothed him in purple and,

weaving a crown of thorns, placed it on him.

They began to salute him with, “Hail, King of the Jews!”

and kept striking his head with a reed and spitting upon him.

They knelt before him in homage.

And when they had mocked him,

they stripped him of the purple cloak,

dressed him in his own clothes,

and led him out to crucify him.

They pressed into service a passer-by, Simon,

a Cyrenian, who was coming in from the country,

the father of Alexander and Rufus,

to carry his cross.

They brought him to the place of Golgotha

—which is translated Place of the Skull —

They gave him wine drugged with myrrh,

but he did not take it.

Then they crucified him and divided his garments

by casting lots for them to see what each should take.

It was nine o’clock in the morning when they crucified him.

The inscription of the charge against him read,

“The King of the Jews.”

With him they crucified two revolutionaries,

one on his right and one on his left.

Those passing by reviled him,

shaking their heads and saying,

“Aha! You who would destroy the temple

and rebuild it in three days,

save yourself by coming down from the cross.”

Likewise the chief priests, with the scribes,

mocked him among themselves and said,

“He saved others; he cannot save himself.

Let the Christ, the King of Israel,

come down now from the cross

that we may see and believe.”

Those who were crucified with him also kept abusing him.

At noon darkness came over the whole land

until three in the afternoon.

And at three o’clock Jesus cried out in a loud voice,

“Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?”

which is translated,

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Some of the bystanders who heard it said,

“Look, he is calling Elijah.”

One of them ran, soaked a sponge with wine, put it on a reed

and gave it to him to drink saying,

“Wait, let us see if Elijah comes to take him down.”

Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last.

Here all kneel and pause for a short time.

The veil of the sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom.

When the centurion who stood facing him

saw how he breathed his last he said,

“Truly this man was the Son of God!”

#jesus #catholic #my remnant army #jesus christ #virgin mary #faithoverfear #saints #jesusisgod #endtimes #artwork #Gospel #word of God #Bible #bible verse of the day #biblevisuals #bible verse #Jesus is coming #come holy spirit

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wesleyhill · 9 months ago

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Returning to Dust

A homily on 2 Corinthians 5:21 preached on Ash Wednesday 2024 at Pillar Church, Holland, Michigan

A few years ago, a beloved friend and colleague told me that she was heading to see a doctor. She had noticed some strange, dark purple bruises on the tops of several of her toes. She couldn’t remember kicking something too hard or tripping over something. She was sure it was nothing, she told me.

Martha was my friend’s name. She was an Anglican priest, a professor of pastoral theology, and a sought-after preacher and speaker. Never married, she was a queen of hospitality. She cooked lavishly and masterfully. She sang loudly, operatically, often ensuring that the descants weren’t neglected in our seminary chapel services. She painted. She had two enormous standard poodles whom she adored. She was so full of life.

Within a matter of days, she had an explanation for the bruising on her toes. She was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia, a fast-growing cancer that starts in the bone marrow and then proceeds to the blood. All of us who knew Martha, who had been the grateful recipients of her joy and zest for life, were in shock.

This was at the end of 2013. By the time Ash Wednesday of 2014 came around, Martha had been through three rounds of chemotherapy and was then in the hospital. She asked if some of us would come to her room and give her ashes and pray the liturgy with her.

I recall stepping into her room and into the light of her smile. Her arms were reddened with rashes, and she was wearing a handknit scarf over her shaved head. She was visibly weaker than I’d ever seen her, but I laughed at the 8” by 10” on her wall — a color photo from her visit to an antique store several weeks earlier at which she had donned an ancient Roman soldier’s helmet and brandished a broadsword, teeth clenched in mock rage. There was still plenty of fight left in her, I said, and she agreed.

And then we began to pray: “Almighty and everlasting God, you hate nothing you have made and forgive the sins of all who are penitent: Create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we, worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness, may obtain of you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.”

Sean, the priest who was with us, then read these words from Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians: “For our sake God made Christ to be sin who knew no sin, so that in Christ we might become the righteousness of God.”

And then Sean dipped his thumb in ashes and made the sign of the cross on Martha’s forehead. I remember thinking her skin looked too taut and unnaturally shiny. Sean said to Martha, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

There are probably as many different reasons you are here in church tonight as there are people in the room. But I suspect that almost all of us — to some degree, whether knowingly or unwittingly — are here because we want to hear good news. We want to believe that there is some hope for us and for those we love. And maybe you are wondering as you sit here, as I was wondering standing next to Martha’s hospital bed, how it is good news that we are dust and that we shall one day return to dust?

There are two ways — two separate but interrelated ways — of thinking about this. In the first place, there’s a sense in which the words you’re about to hear and the symbol you’re going to receive on your forehead are not “good news” in any straightforward sense. Frederick Buechner says that the Christian good news is a tragedy, a comedy, and a fairy tale, but before it is a comedy and a fairy tale, it is first a tragedy. The apostle Paul calls death an enemy to be defeated. It is not good that our lives are cut off by cancer, famine, war, despair, or any of the million other calamities that can end our days on earth. And before we can really take to heart the good news of Easter — “Death has been swallowed up in victory” — we need to face squarely the depth of the tragedy we’re in. Death was not God’s original good purpose for us. Death is a thief and a tyrant.

So the good news that we proclaim here on Ash Wednesday is not that death is somehow not as bad as it seems, that it’s maybe more of a friend than a foe. No, the good news is that, in spite of the tragedy of death, we have a Lord and Savior who has conquered death by dying. Christ Jesus came into the world to share our human plight, to take on his shoulders all our pain and sin, and to go all the way into our bleakest human experience — death — and to emerge triumphant from the tomb on the third day.

So it isn’t the fact that we’re going to die that is itself the good news. You already know that, and you don’t need to come to church to hear me tell you about it or receive ashes to inform you about something you weren’t aware of. It’s rather that the announcement about our dying is the tragic prelude to the best news we could hope to hear — that the unconditional Friend of sinners has triumphed over death, and he now says with outstretched arms to everyone who will receive him, “Peace be with you” and “Nothing will ever be able to separate you from my love.”

But I think we can turn this around and come at it from the other direction, so to speak. Christ the Lord has journeyed to us, to share our death as the human being who is God, and so overcome it. But that means that in some deep sense our dying can now become our movement toward Jesus, toward the God who formed us from the dust at first.

It is still true that death is an enemy — but not only an enemy. Listen to how the New Testament scholar Morna Hooker has made this point: “Because Christ is fully one with [humanity] in all [our] experiences, these [experiences] can now be understood in terms of life in Christ.” Our dying, in other words, isn’t only our sharing in the miserable condition of Adam. It is our sharing in Jesus’ experience of the condition of Adam. We don’t go to death by ourselves. Jesus has already gone there ahead of us, and when we die, we are with him.

Or listen to how George MacDonald says it: “The Son of God suffered unto death, not that [human beings] might not suffer, but that their sufferings might be like His.” It isn’t that Jesus suffered death so that we don’t have to. We are still made of dust, and we will all of us return to dust. But Jesus’ dying means that when we return to dust in our caskets or in the crematorium, our dying isn’t just the final experience of solitary suffering we have to somehow find a way to endure. It is our joining Jesus in the suffering he underwent — our final “conformity” to him, as Paul describes it.

This is what that text from 2 Corinthians that we read in my friend Martha’s hospital room is all about: “For our sake God made Christ to be sin who knew no sin, so that in Christ we might become the righteousness of God.” It’s what Luther called the “great exchange.” Christ takes to himself the whole human condition and experience. He tastes every last drop of it. He goes all the way down into the fathomless darkness of death. And the outcome is that we, in our suffering and mortality, in our journey toward becoming dust, become in and through him God’s own beloved forever. Death is real, but it has lost its sting. It has been defanged. It is now our final passage into the arms of the God who loves us eternally.

My friend Martha died eleven months after her cancer diagnosis. When she first received the diagnosis, she was adamant that she would beat the leukemia. “God has more work for me to do here,” she said firmly. “Pray for my healing, don’t pray for a good dying.” But by the end, she had faced with hard-won honesty and humility and a beautiful Christian hope the fact that she was dust and was now returning to dust. And she said, with the martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “This is the end — for me the beginning of life.”

Amen.

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itsohh · 1 year ago

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The Enemy Bites

A/N: Female reader, vampire AU, with the baseline lore sorted here's uh a piece with actual relationship lmao anyway.

Summary: A mission lands you in a rough spot, in the arms of the enemy specifically. Held at gunpoint you have little options as Gaz and Price are forced to watch as your humanity is slowly drained.

Word count: 2791

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, slight angst

Part 1 AO3 Masterlist

Everyone remained completely frozen. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. You had been working as their handler for close to a year now, most of the time looking after Ghost or Soap. This had been your first real time looking after Price and Gaz in person.

Now caught by the throat, you couldn't feel a little guilty, you were supposed to look after them. Not the other way around. Gaz stood next to Price a few meters aways from you. They didn't dare to make a sudden move.

Price had his hands up, his gun hung off his shoulder to the side while Gaz's was settled on the floor in front of them. Both of them had rather pissed off expressions. With soldiers all around the room, all of you were outnumbered. Perhaps that would have mattered if they were human.

The only thing that stopped the two Brits from moving was the two men behind you. "The famous Captain Price. Should have figured such a renowned soldier was one of us." The man behind you mocked with a laugh. His fingers around your throat flexed a little and your eyes flashed to the man next to him who had a gun pointed at your head.

"But your not one of us are you? Any other true vampire never would have stopped fighting for this thing. A piece of cattle." He hissed and your eyes shut for a second when he squeezed just a little.

"Your men here are human." He gestured to the soldiers around the room.

"Not if they prove themselves. The gift of immortality would be bestowed upon them if worthy."

"Jesus Christ, dealt with a lot of your type in the past. None lived to tell the tale." John seemed tired, sick of dealing with him. "We've long since moved past this thinking."

"Yes and what a travesty it was. To live to these humans rules. Pathetic, they are below us. We should be ruling them. Your weakness for this particular one, disgusts me."

"Humans are a lot stronger than you think, look what happened to the council."

"Your European council was weak! Undeserving. Perhaps you have forgotten what it means to be one of us."

"Amun…" Prices voice trailed off and his eyes locked onto yours for a moment.

"You are not worthy of saying my name!" You gasped when he squeezed tight for a second and Gaz flinched towards you.

"Don't touch her!" Fury in his eyes, he was stopped by Price.

Amun barked out a laugh but his grip loosened. "Weakborn you have there Price. A runt. You dare tell me what to do? For a human? There's only one thing humans are good for. Let me remind you." He pulled your neck to the side and there was a tiny second before a sharp pain periced into the join of your neck.

"No!" Gaz went to charged again but was stopped by Prices grip and the cold metal that pressed against your head. The barrel of a gun. Amun laughed into the side of your neck and you could feel a thick line of blood start to run down your shoulder. It was caught by his tongue and he pressed his lips over the wound.

Then he started to suck. Blood rushed in your ears while he held onto you rather tightly. Price and Gaz could only watch as slowly Amun started to drain you. You knew you had to do something, but with the gun pressed against your head, you couldn't deal with that and Amun.

"Price." Your managed to get out.

"It's gonna be alright Agent." He went straight to reassuring you and Amun ripped his lips from your body to let out a laugh.

"Oh I had plans to drain your little play thing dry but, my goodness. It been a while since I tasted something as sweet as you. No, this one I think I'll keep."

"Leave them alone." Gaz growled and you could see that resolve of his slip.

"Gaz." Price's hand around Gaz's wrist tightened as the sight of the guns safety being removed. Amun resumed his meal out of you and practically hummed into the taste.

You needed to do something. The silver dagger up your sleeve was painfully iching to be used but you needed to change up the position here. Perhaps you could use Amun as a shield and you needed to stop him from feeding on you. The longer he did, the worse your body would be off. Even if he did plan on keeping you alive.

You let out a small little whimper and let your body go lip, faking a collapse. Amul was quick to catch your body a laugh as your now shut eyes. "Such little blood taken. Perhaps I was a little faster than I had thought. Or perhaps you do not practice what you preach Captain Price." He held your body and looked up to mock. "If I inspect her will I find a couple of holes that I didn't make? Or perhaps it was your Sergent here. So protective over such a delectable taste, now that I understand."

With everyone's eyes on Price and Gaz, you used your opportunity. Your fingers pulled a small strap and the knife slid down into your hand. One sudden movment had you dragging him to the ground and the knife into his chest. Being so close, it was easy to shove through the gap in his ribs directly to his heart.

Gaz and Price moved as one. Gaz snapped to the floor for his weapon and Price snatched his gun from beside him. Gunfire filled the room and you used Amun's corpse as a shield while the two men took out the rest of the room.

Eventually it went silent and the corpse was pulled from you. Price held out his hand while Gaz shoved away the body in disgust. "Risky move there Agent."

"You disapprove?"

"You used his underestimation against him and it worked. Strategicly it worked."

"But?"

"Could have backfired. Glad that it didn't." She smiled and helped you to your feet. You wiped the knife on your pants and tucked it back in your sleeve.

"Didn't know you had one of those." Gaz spoke up and you let out a hum.

"That is the idea of a secret hidden blade Sergent." You looked up and gave him a wink while you hummed. "Laswell made sure I was prepaired to get myself out of any situation-" Your voice hitched and you wobbled a bit. This time you instability was genuine and Gaz was quick to catch you.

Your hands landed on his arms while he held you up. "Captain she's still bleeding."

"Set her down for a moment. I'll patch her up then we need to go." Gaz carefully set you onto the ground and Price went for the small med-kit that was on his side. Gaz seetled next to you like Price exaimined the wound, but he also kept an eye out for any enemies.

"It's small but deep, he was experienced enough not to go for an artery. The veins busted from the looks of it but you should be fine." Price wiped it with disinfectant which caused a hiss to form on your lips and you squeezed Gaz's hand. Price was gentle in his movements, carefully raising your arms so he could secure a bandage.

"How are you feeling?" Price made eye contact with you.

"Certainly had worse. Weak though."

"Let's get you back to base. Gaz." Prices eyes made contact with his and Gaz started to pull you up.

"Can you stand?" He asked and you let out a small sound.

"Feel a bit lightheaded but yeah." You braced your self on his and this brows narrowed for a second.

"Here let me carry you, it will be easier." You nodded and he bent down. Gaz picked you up without effort and you held on around his neck. "Comfortable?"

"Didn't know you were that strong Sergeant."

"Could carry you easily even when I was human." He gave you a light smile and you rest you head against his chest. "I got you."

Back at base, Price directed Gaz to medical while Price informed you he needed to give Laswell a call. The nurse had paused when she saw the pair of you and Gaz explained you had lost blood. She didn't ask too many questions but checked your levels and hooked you up to an IV.

"Just to get fluids in you, you didn't lose too much. Only a few pints, your body will take care of it." She explained as you settled into the hospital bed. With a smile she left the room. With complete privacy, it was only you and Gaz.

"Thanks for helping me out Gaz. Can't have been easy carrying me all thay way."

"Ah it's no biggie. Our muscles don't work the same that your does. Sure there's the added strength but you know how when you carry something for a really long time and you start to ache even though it's not that heavy?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't get that. Trust me it was fine, I'm just happy your alright."

"Mm sure Price would be a pain getting a new handler." You laughed.

"Of course, they wouldn't be you. Think we all warmed to you."

"Aww Garrick, thanks it means a lot." You stretched a little bit paused when you tugged on the IV. "If it means anything, I've warmed to you too." You blinked and Gaz gave you a rather kind smile. "Come sit with me." You shuffled to the side of the bed and his brows raised.

"You sure? Don't think the nurse would be too happy with that."

"Ah, what is she gonna do? Kick me out? Come here." You patted the bed and a moment later he followed you instructions and climbed on. Gaz took up more space than you expected and the pair of you were soon shoulder to shoulder. He shuffled a bit and wrapped his arm around you.

"Smaller bed than I thought."

"I can get off if you changed your mind."

"Nah, your good. Your warm." You pressed your face into the side of his chest at the realisation and you felt him let out a breath. “Like really warm, I thought you lot were supposed to be cold.”

“Think Price said our bodies were like incubators?” He didn’t sound to sure on the fact himself.

“What?”

“Yeah so if you put something cold in us it stay colds but if you put something warm in it stays warm?”

“Your housing insulation? Gaz that's hilarious.” You laughed into him before you let out a little yawn. Your laugher continued and he let out his own little laugh.

“Hey, rest up.” He looked down at you. “You look pretty tired.”

“Thats what happens when you become someones afternoon snack.” You shuffled slightly to get more comfortable and shut your eyes. Ever so slowly, sleep took you.

When you awoke once more, the room was rather dark and a light emitted from the hallway. Your position had changed a little and you had cuddled into his chest. Despite the sleep that remained in your casually waking form, you could feel that your body was far more awake. The IV had been removed from your am and you were left with a little plaster. Your bandage around your shoulder had been replaced and now only had a plaster in its place.

With a little groan, you rolled your head around and Gaz move a little next to you. "Hey welcome back to the land of the living." You were a little stunned to hear his voice.

"You're awake?"

"Yeah, been uh keeping an eye on everything." He looked away and you could have sworn he sounded a little embarrassed.

"Protecting me in my sleep? My hero." You teased with a smile and his eyes returned to yours with a roll. His lips were curved upwards and you gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "I appreciate it, Garrick. With everything thats happened it's nice to know you have my back. Even if it's me who's supposed to have yours."

"I mean we're a team right?"

"But-"

"Team, we got each other. Speaking of they did some blood tests while you were out. Doc recon's your levels should be back to normal, honestly dunno why they have discharged you yet."

"Maybe it's because there was a big scary vampire watching over my shoulder." You gave him a wink at your tease. He huffed and pretended to be tired of the situation but you could see the smile he couldn't hold back. "Speaking of, when was the last time you had something to drink?"

"Price sorted me out earlier don't worry." He gestured to an empty to go coffee cup on the side table behind him.

"Price saw us like this?"

"Yeah, you were all cuddled up like I was your teddy bear. Pretty cute not going to lie." It was his turn to tease you and you let out a groan.

"So much for professional image."

"Ah come on Agent, no one's had that overly professional vibe since you caught Soap with his pants down."

"Why you were playing strip poker at 3am goes beyond me."

"We-"

"Gaz I don't wanna know. In fact I'd be happy if we never brought that up ever again."

"Ah your just pissed cause you weren't invited. Don't worry you can get in on the action next time."

"Next time? There better not be a next time."

"Come on, you got to give it a go. It's fun."

"Glaz if you wanted to see me strip you can just ask."

He practically choked on his own breath, what was meant to be a tease had a far stronger reaction then you had expected. He looked away and at that moment you realised the effect you had on the man. Slowly your fingers reached up to his jaw and he slowed when you made contact.

"Kyle." You whispered his name and he turned to face you, so incredibly close. Your hand caressed his face and your thumb slowly ran across his bottom lip. Gaz's eyes locked with yours and you felt the most subtle gentle kiss against your thumb, testing the waters.

"My lips are down here Garrick."

He didn't need to be told twice. Immediately his warm lips were pressed down against yours. Like a ruptured dam, he didn't cold back. Lost in in your lips, he moved to the side and mounted on top of you. His arms braced next to your head while yours wrapped around his neck and pulled him against you.

Gaz everytislly pulled back a little, his forehead pressed against your while out panted slightly. "I'll admit I've been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you." He wet the bottom of his lips and beamed at you.

"Yeah? Then why'd you stop?" That sentence was all it took for his lips to be pressed against yours.

Time seemed to pauce around you and you were lost in your little world until a knock on the wall snapped the pair of you out of it. Gaz rolled off you to the side and your eyes went wide when they locked on to Laswell's.

"Mind if I have a moment Kyle?" He looked a little sheepish as he nodded and climbed off the bed.

"Uh, go for it." He gave you one last giddly smile and left the room.

"So you and Sergent then?" She looked over her shoulder for a moment and you let out a small cough.

"Uh, recent development."

"As long as it doesn't interfere with your duties." Her voice trailed off and you nodded.

"Of course." She sat down the side of the bed with a folder in her hands.

"This is the lab results."

"For what?"

"Even though there was no intention, there's always the slightest possibility that theres a slow acting venom inside of you. Either to kill or change you."

"Gaz said they did some test, I presume that's what you were testing for?"

"Yes, they came back negative but I must stress the importance of being careful in the future."

"I'll try not to get bitten by the enemy ma'am."

"Just as bad as those boys." She tsked. "Never the less, I'm glad to see your alright."

"You didn't have to come all the way down here. I'm fine."

"Just because you can handle your own doesn't change the fact your my responsibility."

"Laswell, I'm okay."

"Let's keep it that way Agent."

"Yes ma'am."

#gaz x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #modern warfare 2 #kyle garrick #im sick rn and edited this on phone so it might be double as bad editing

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