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zepskies · 1 year

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Break Me Down - Part 13

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Word Count: 6,500

Tags/Warnings: Peril, hurt/comfort, angst, and a deal…

Part 13: A Generous Deal

Frank, Ben’s former henchman, gave you a quirking smile.

Beside him was Loco, who tossed you a wink. He carried a semi-automatic weapon in his hands.

“You look good, corazón,” Loco said, reaching for your sister. “Let’s get you guys out of here, no?”

“Who the hell is trying to kill us?” Louisa said, accepting his hand after you guided her up from the ground. Frank covered you all while firing back at the shooters.

Loco snorted in amusement. “Vought. Who else?”

“Jesus, fuck,” you muttered. “What do they want with me? It’s Ben they were after.”

“Who’s Ben?” Louisa asked. Meanwhile, Loco guided you both out of the apartment and down the stairs. Frank covered you guys from the back as he followed.

“El capitán, Soldier Boy,” Loco supplied as he pointed to himself and Frank with his gun, “Our boss.”

“Soldier Boy?!” Louisa shot you an incredulous look. You gave her a wan smile before you glared at Loco, pointing his gun away.

“Watch where you aim that thing,” you reminded him. Loco just scoffed. He covered you when you stepped out of the apartment building, leading you to a black SUV parked illegally on the side of the road.

Right now, you were grateful for that as bullets seemed to rain down from everywhere. But with Frank and Loco’s expertise, the four of you made it into the car. Frank was your chauffer, and he sped off down the street.

“How the hell are you alive?” you asked Frank. “You were shot point blank in the chest.”

“Was wearing Kevlar,” he said. “And I was on V24.”

“So he fucked those mall cops in the ass with hot lead and broke me out of prison,” Loco supplied, shooting you a grin.

You smiled back at him, but when you looked over at your sister, gripping the inside of the car door for dear life with petrified eyes, you grabbed her hand to steady her.

You turned back to Frank. “We need to pick up my mom. If they’re after me too, then she’s not safe.”

“Where?” he asked. You gave him the address of the hospital where your mother worked. Frank turned a corner sharply in order to change course, making you grip the car handle yourself.

“Jesus, Frank. Go a little smoother on the wheels, yeah?” Loco quipped.

“You want a nice kiddy ride, or you want to get there alive?” Frank retorted. “We’ve got a narrow window, even less now that we’ve got a second stop.”

“It’s not that far. Lower West Side,” you said. And you continued to instruct him through the New York traffic. He was an adept driver, but he wasn’t a New Yorker. You pointed out the best roads to take to get there within half an hour.

Loco stayed with Louisa in the car (albeit, first with a lot of reassuring that she would be safe with this perfect stranger that she could only suspect was a criminal).

Frank escorted you inside, where you found your mom at the reception desk (thankfully) on the first floor. Her eyes lit up when she saw you.

“Oh my God, you’re back! How are you, sweetheart? Oh, come here,” your mother said, getting up from her desk to pull you into a hug. You accepted it with a smile, but you grabbed her shoulders firmly and made her see the sense of urgency in your eyes.

“Mom, I need you to come with me,” you said in hushed tones. She looked around, from you to her confused coworker at the desk beside her.

“What? Honey, I can’t. I’m at work—”

“Now, Mom. I’ll explain later.”

“Marie, you going on lunch break?” asked her coworker.

“Yep, I’m taking her out,” you supplied, looping your mother’s arm with yours. “Come on! I found this cute little French bistro a few blocks away.”

“Honey,” your mom tried to whisper. She didn’t like the look of Frank hovering beside you. He was a tall man, broad and wearing a long black trench coat—and a gun concealed within.

“Just trust me,” you told her, gripping her hand tight.

Somehow you made it to the car without incident. But once the five of you were on the road, with all three women squished in the backseat, Louisa turned to you.

“So you’re actually helping Soldier Boy now?” she asked, and with a sly raise of her brow, “Or should I say Ben?”

Your face began to heat up, but you clung to your stoicism.

“Soldier Boy,” Marie gasped. “Didn’t he kill Homelander?”

“May that prick get fucked in the ass for all eternity in hell,” you muttered. Once again, your mother gasped.

“Young lady. I don’t like that,” she said, with all due side eye.

“You don’t like anything, Mother,” you quipped.

“Wait, wait. You’re not getting out of this.” Louisa leaned over and grabbed your hand. “What’s the deal with you and Soldier Boy? I thought the whole point of your mission was to arrest him.”

You let out an exasperated sigh.

“I was on the job, things went sideways, I got captured, and things got…complicated.”

Frank huffed. “I think the kids are calling it Frenemies with Benefits.”

Louisa uttered an incredulous laugh while simultaneously freaking the fuck out, especially at the word captured.

“Excuse me?” said Marie. You gave the man a withering look.

“Don’t help me, Frank.”

An amused smile tugged at his lips. But then it was wiped away.

“Incoming. Three tails,” he said. Loco looked in the side mirror, and his muttered curse was a confirmation: they were being followed.

“Where are we headed?” you asked.

“Supe Affairs,” Frank said. He took evasive measures, banking on corners and doing his best to beat the cars tailing them through traffic.

Until the mid-size SUV was side swiped by an even larger black one. It slammed into your side of the car, making it spin out. You all screamed as the car flipped over once and managed to land.

You had to blink drops of blood out of your double vision, but when it cleared, you saw Black Noir had landed on the hood of the car. Your eyes widened.

Noir raised his gun and shot through the windshield, but while Loco shot right back at him, Frank put the car into reverse—into the path of a coming bus.

He actually sped towards it. And at the last moment, he sharply turned the car to try and fling the supe off the hood.

It worked, somewhat. Noir was forced to stop the bus from hitting him directly, causing the front of the bus to fold up like an accordion against his hands. And while he was distracted, Loco threw a projectile at the supe’s face.

Noir caught it with ease, but he didn’t expect the way it erupted with nerve gas in his face. Before it could affect the normal humans in the car, Frank reversed again and finally managed to dislodge the supe.

He turned the car around and was able to get the car back into Drive, but the entire windshield was gone, and breathing felt like agony once again. If you had to guess, it was your broken ribs flaring up after the initial impact.

Your shoulder also ached like a bitch. You didn’t think it was dislocated, but at the very least, severely bruised.

Not broken, at least, you thought bitterly.

“Oh my God. You okay?” Louisa asked, gasping once she looked over and saw you clutching your arm.

You could also feel blood dripping over your brow and down the side of your face. Your mom also had a knock to the side of her head, but she and Louisa looked more or less fine, if scared out of their minds.

“I’m okay,” you said, giving them a reassuring smile. You directed it at Frank next, when he glanced back at you with concern.

You fished into your pocket and found your cell phone unscathed. Letting out a relieved breath, you found Grace Mallory’s personal cell in your contacts and started the call.

She picked up on the third ring.

“Who is this?”

“Grace, it’s me. I—”

“How did you get this number?” she asked.

“Stole it from M.M.’s phone,” you replied impatiently. “Listen, I have a situation—”

“You’re already on thin ice,” she said. “This better be fucking good.”

At that, the narrow thread of your temper snapped.

“I’m playing bumper cars with Black Noir in the Lower West Side. How’s that for fucking good?” you said, raising your voice. “He’s trying to kill me and my entire family. I need your help, right now!”

A beat of silence, and Grace replied.

“Understood. What are the cross streets?”

“We’re in a black SUV,” you replied, and you gave her the closest streets as they passed by. “We’re heading toward the S.A.”

“Backup will arrive shortly,” she said. Then she hung up on you.

It was a good thing too, because you lost your grip on your cell when another car bumped into the SUV, this time from the driver’s side. Your eyes widened as you saw Black Noir again, this time with a grenade launcher.

“Heads down!” you screamed, reaching for your sister.

Just as he would’ve shot at the car, a helicopter flew overhead and shot directly at the supe. CIA units swarmed in in various cars, and it allowed Frank the distraction he needed to slip away from the supe.

Frank and Loco escorted your family to the double doors of the Supe Affairs building. You hung back real quick once they were inside, knowing the men couldn’t go in. They would likely be apprehended.

“Thank you,” you told them. Emotion made your eyes glassy. Loco gave you a smile and rubbed your non-injured shoulder.

“Just get yourself checked out,” Frank said. He gave you a scrap of paper with two cell phone numbers on it.

“Reach us here if anything changes,” he said. With Soldier Boy, his tone implied. You nodded and took the numbers from him. Loco left to start up the car, but you grabbed Frank’s arm, holding him back a minute.

“Why’d you come find me?” you asked. “You guys…didn’t owe me anything. You don’t even owe Ben.”

“He does technically owe us,” Frank said.

You nodded at that. “Well, you could just cut your losses…is it that good a payout?”

His dry smile told you yes, it would be that good.

“But that doesn’t explain me,” you pointed out.

Frank considered you, as if contemplating the reason himself.

“We knew if Soldier Boy was going to break out, it would be because of you,” he said. “We happened to be watching you when we saw Black Noir casing your building.”

“Doesn’t totally explain why you’d risk your lives for me,” you said.

Frank seemed uncomfortable with the question. So you let him off the hook with a smile.

“Thank you. Again,” you said. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

His lips curved at that. “Me too, kid.”

You ushered your mom and sister through the S.A. building, ignoring the odd and concerned looks from people going about their workday.

You knew the three of you made quite a sight, especially when your face was literally dripping blood, and your arm was pinned to your side.

You noticed Butcher striding down the hall with M.M., and you called out to him loudly.

“Still think Black Noir isn’t a fucking priority?” you shouted.

Both men noticed you in surprise, but while Butcher was mostly curious, M.M. was concerned. You then ignored them and started guiding your family up to Grace’s office.

As it turned out, you didn’t have to. She stepped off the elevator and led the three of you into a private office. She had already requested an on-call doctor for you, and he was there waiting with his supplies.

Marie helped you into a chair, where you let out a shaky breath. The doctor came over to check your shoulder, during which Marie stroked your good arm and Luisa brushed your sweaty hair from your face.

“Not broken or dislocated,” he confirmed. “Just bruised. You’ll need to ice it for a few days.”

“What happened?” Grace asked at last. You met her blue-eyed gaze.

“I told you. Black Noir tried to kill us. I assume I was the target, because he found me at my apartment,” you said with a wince, rubbing at your aching ribs while the doctor wrapped your arm in a temporary sling. He next worked on blotting and stitching up your head wound, which he remarked was shallower than it seemed.

What you needed were some painkillers.

“I want my mom and my sister placed in protective custody,” you told Grace.

Both women protested at first.

“What are you going to do?” Luisa asked incredulously. “You can’t do this by yourself.”

“We’ll take care of this,” you tried to reassure her.

“And what about school? I can’t just drop out for God-knows how long.”

“I’ll talk to NYU, get them to let you complete your classes online.”

“What about me? My job isn’t so flexible,” Marie pointed out. You frowned, at a loss for what to say. Your guilt was growing by the moment; not only had your family been put in danger because of you, but their lives were about to be completely uprooted.

“We’ll work it out with your employer as well,” Grace said.

You gave her an appreciative look. Grace could be a bitch, but it seemed she wasn’t a complete asshole.

When you turned back to your family, hot tears welled up in your eyes and slid down your cheeks unbidden.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked on a sob. “This is on me.”

Luisa tearfully shook her head, holding your hand. Your mom was in a similar state as she wiped your tears away.

“I just want you to be safe,” Marie said. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

You nodded, but you couldn’t force yourself to lie to her this time.

In a few hours, you saw your mother and sister off as Grace directed them into protective custody. They would be taken to a safe house tonight, and would remain there until the matter of Black Noir was settled.

You were exhausted, in pain, and emotionally spent, and you were going to need a safe house of your own. But you agreed to spend the night here at the S.A. building, where there were cots available upstairs for when supes where occasionally held overnight.

You debated the idea growing your mind, whether it would be good for you in this moment…

But you couldn’t help yourself.

You had to see him.

Your steps were slow, but you eventually made it to the “cellar.”

The guards raised their brows at the state of you, still with dried blood, bruises, and your arm in a temporary sling. Your hard gaze warned them to mind their fucking business.

“Open it up,” you said, raising an expectant brow. After glancing at one another, one of the guards shrugged. He pressed the button to disengage the outer walls, which parted for your entry.

You stepped inside, this time grateful for the way those walls closed behind you. You knew the guards would be watching regardless, but the semblance of privacy was enough for you.

Ben was sitting up in his cot, back against the wall with his arms crossed. The stance was familiar to you; he was probably awake, but trying not to fall asleep due to the nerve gas making him drowsy.

His eyes opened when he heard you coming. His mouth opened, poised to be snarky, until he actually caught sight of you. Whatever acidic words he’d been about to say died on his tongue as he took in your injuries, from stitched and bandaged head to your arm in a sling.

He got up and approached you, until only the glass separated you two by a few feet.

“What the fuck happened?” he asked. His voice was gruff, but you thought you detected concern behind his green eyes.

“Black Noir,” you rasped.

You explained to him what happened from the very beginning. Your sister showing up at your apartment, followed by Noir shooting at you, then Frank and Loco showing up to extract you from the building.

“Those fuckers are still alive?” Ben noted with surprise. You could see that he was pleased by the news, and you smiled.

“Yeah, they saved me,” you admitted. But then, your lips trembled. “Black Noir tried to take me out. Me and my whole family.”

Ben watched you tear up, his jaw tightening. The fury lighting in his blood gave him new energy as he contemplated just how slowly and painfully he’d take Stan Edgar apart for this. He had no right to sick that damn bootlicker on you.

And probably just to get to him.

Ben began to pace. He had no other way to vent his frustration, other than hurling up his cot against the wall with a guttural sound of rage. (Which he did, not seeing how it made you flinch.)

He was in this cage, and meanwhile, you were out there. Unprotected. Taking bullets that should be his…and his alone.

He wiped a hand over his mouth and looked back at you. You were wide-eyed, vulnerable, not sure what to make of his reaction.

Ben wanted to continue blaming you for his imprisonment…but deep down, he knew you weren’t the one who put him here. He also knew why you wouldn’t break him out either.

You were stubborn about your convictions—something that frustrated him to no end. But ultimately, he admired you for how you always held your ground, even against him.

Especially against him.

But right now, you looked exhausted, in pain. He just couldn’t do anything about it. And that irritated him, he discovered.

“Did your dad order the hit?” he asked. “Stan said he was still alive.”

You tilted your head, like you hadn’t thought of that before. Despite your lingering tears, your expression briefly became cold as stone.

“If my father knew about this, he’s a dead man,” you said.

Ben inclined his head in agreement. It looked like even you had a limit on what was forgivable.

You sighed and stepped closer to the cell. You implored him, first with your eyes, and then with the truth.

“Ben, I need your help,” you said. “As long as Stan Edgar and Vought still stand, it’s a target on your back. Now it’s on mine too. My mom, and my sister. Please.”

Ben seemed to consider it, as his gaze left your face.

Then, he came up closer to the glass window.

“Call your boss. Tell her it’s time for a talk,” he said.

You sighed in relief, covering your eyes with a hand as your tears fell anew. You looked up at Ben, trying and failing to get ahold of yourself.

“Thank you,” you said.

Ben’s anger crumbled that much more. He sighed and pressed a fist up to the glass on his side to lean against it. You laid a hand against the glass, opposite his.

His eyes met yours. As resentment drained out of him, slowly, his fingers uncurled.

His hand laid on the glass in line with your smaller hand. You could almost pretend the window didn’t exist between you, and the cold glass under your palm was really his. A moment later, Ben let his hand fall and returned to his cot.

Soon, you wanted to tell him.

You would make sure of it.

Grace’s heels clacked on the metal ground as the fortified barriers disengaged, allowing her entrance into the observing area of Soldier Boy’s cell.

The man himself looked up at her from where he sat on his cot, his hair falling over his brows. He straightened and stood, and he met her at the forefront of the cell.

She stopped a foot behind the glass and crossed her arms. Ben’s gaze seized her up lazily—the gray pantsuit and white blouse, the coif of blonde hair piled on her head, the light layer of lipstick across her thin lips. She looked even less fun now than she had in the 80s.

“You’ve gotten old as fuck,” he remarked.

“As I hear it, a few wrinkles don’t bother you in the slightest,” she countered.

His lips curved. He’d never fuck this broad on mere principle, but she was still easy on those baby blues.

“So,” she began, “Two options. One: you can sleep in here forever, until you look as old as I am. Or two: you’ll work with my team to bring down Vought, on our terms. Which means executing approved targets only. Collateral damage kept to a narrow minimum.”

Her gaze was unyielding, clinical at best.

“Operate within the confines of the law. And if by some miracle you pull all of that off…you can publicly retire to South America, never to step foot in the U.S. again,” she said.

“We will leave you alone, provided you don’t actively create havoc. And if you deviate from the plan in any way, we will hunt you down and bring you right back here. You will never know peace.”

Ben stared at her, almost amused at her audacity. “That’s your idea of a goddamn deal?”

She ignored him, her expression turning thoughtful.

“Oh, yes,” Grace said, a finger tapping on her arm, as if she just remembered something. She mentioned your name, making Ben’s brows furrow.

“Should you fuck up your end of this generous deal, I will also personally make sure that you never see her again,” she said.

Ben’s jaw tensed, his green eyes narrowing a fraction.

But he figured his best play here was to bluff.

“What makes you think I give a flying fuck about that?” he said snidely.

For the first time, a bit of humor lightened Grace as her mouth tugged at a smile.

“Actually, it seems you do. And a great deal of one,” she said. “That you’re considering this agreement at all is because of her.”

Ben’s lips pressed together.

“The fact of the matter is, Benjamin, I can make her disappear,” she stated, “even more thoroughly than I’ll bury you if you cross me.”

That threat nearly unhinged him. A vein pulsed in his neck as he ground his teeth.

But he managed to keep his cool, smooth as he crossed his arms and stared back at this platinum-haired bitch.

“See, you can talk big behind that glass. But the truth is, you need me,” he said. “All you bitches do. And you’re all afraid of me. So if you want to threaten me, by all means…just don’t forget who the fuck I am.”

M.M. carefully watched the archive footage from yesterday between you and Ben from his laptop. He saw the shift in the supe when you walked in, battered with your arm in a temporary sling. M.M. watched the man’s anger build, but for you instead of at you.

By the time he made it to the end, watching Ben’s hand meet yours on his side of the glass, M.M. sat back in his seat and frowned, resting his chin in his hand. What the hell…

Maybe Soldier Boy did give a fuck about someone other than himself.

M.M.’s phone buzzed, breaking him out of his reverie. It was Grace.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Team meeting,” she said, instructing him to head up to a conference room on the third floor in ten minutes. Sighing, M.M. closed his laptop and made his way up.

Annie and Hughie were already there, followed by Frenchie and Kimiko, and finally Butcher, strolling in to make his entrance as always.

You were the only one not in attendance, having gone back to full-time in the Surveillance department. Though considering what happened yesterday with Black Noir, he was surprised you weren’t here…

But once Grace started the meeting, explaining what had become of her meeting with Soldier Boy, M.M.’s already precarious mood darkened even further.

“It’s an insane fucking deal,” Butcher agreed, breaking the steely silence of the room following Grace’s little report. “But it’s one we’ve made before.”

“You’ve made before,” Annie retorted. “This is crazy. We can’t trust Soldier Boy.”

“But we all know who does,” M.M. said. His gaze shifted to the door, where you had just stepped in. It seemed you were invited to the meeting after all.

You were late, quite literally holding Starbucks. It looked like a caramel macchiato, iced, light froth. You sipped it through a green straw and took a seat beside Frenchie, who offered you a smile as he smoked a cigarette. You returned it before you addressed the group.

“Take my personal stake out of the equation,” you said.

“So you admit it’s personal,” M.M. remarked. You shot him a glance, but you didn’t let him deter you from your point.

“Ben is our best play against Black Noir. That’s just a fact,” you said. “He was cloned in part with Homelander’s DNA.”

“Okay, sure,” Hughie said. “Despite all the…potential logistics problems there, what about Stan Edgar? He’s been one step ahead of us this entire time.”

That was a fair point, one you acknowledged with a nod.

“I think we should look into Victoria Neuman. She turned on Stan once to protect herself, who’s to say she won’t again?” you said.

“Or, she’ll pop our heads like water balloons,” Frenchie pointed out, letting out a puff of his cigarette. Hughie frowned and waved his hand across the plume.

“Do you have to do that right in my face?” he asked. Frenchie blew a kiss (and a small ring of smoke) at Hughie with a playful smirk.

Again, you smiled. “Ben can help with that too.”

Most of them didn’t like the idea. Annie and Kimiko frowned, while Hughie looked unsure. Frenchie might’ve been persuaded…

Butcher actually seemed to agree with you, shockingly. He looked over at M.M., whose stance in all this was obvious.

“You wanna make things safe for your daughter, taking out Vought is fucking it,” Butcher said. It wasn’t what you expected him to say…but maybe the men had had this argument before.

M.M. was tense, his hand clenching into a fist on the conference table.

“You don’t have to tell me that shit,” M.M. said tersely. He looked up at Mallory. “I’m assuming as a part of this fuck-ass deal, Soldier Boy walks free after all this is said and done?”

Grace confirmed this with a short nod, though you could see she wasn’t happy about it either.

“After the work is done, he won’t be allowed to step foot in the U.S. again,” she said.

You frowned, upset at that little footnote, but you held in your reaction as you watched M.M. rise out of his seat, his chair roughly sliding against the ground. He dented the table with a heavy fist as he strode out of the conference room.

Ben rolled his eyes as he took the contract. It had been laid on the tray compartment where his meals were usually slotted through.

You, Grace, and Butcher stood on the other side of his cell. You also thought the contract was stupid; you all knew if Ben didn’t comply with this arrangement, a measly piece of paper wasn’t going to do shit. But Mallory was nothing if not thorough.

He signed it with the pen and shoved both back through the slot. Mallory collected it and turned at Butcher, and then you with her sharp eyes.

“On your head be it,” she said. Then she departed the cell, where the additional fortifying walls were left open. With a raised brow, Butcher signaled to the guards to cut the nerve gas.

Once the mist cleared from the inner cell, Ben took his first real breath in a week. He blinked as the heavy fog he’d been resisting for days cleared, and he stood straighter. His green eyes were on you as the cell finally disengaged, sliding open with a hiss.

You bit your lower lip as he stepped through barefooted. He still wore the clinically white clothing the S.A. provided, like he was the inmate of a psych ward or something. He eyed Butcher warily.

“Ello, gov. Back in business again,” said the Brit. Ben rolled his eyes.

“Just stay out of my fucking way,” he replied.

You wanted to pull him into your arms already. But professionalism be damned, you didn’t want to show your vulnerability around Butcher.

Instead, you held up a plastic bag of clothes and shoes for him to change into, meeting him with a smile. The tightness in his face eased a bit when he glanced over at you, then took the bag with a nod.

“Hungry?” you asked.

Ben’s lips curved into a smirk. “I could eat.”

You felt heat flare in your face as your mouth dropped open slightly.

Butcher rose a brow as he glanced between you two. He chose to ignore the supe’s blatant eye-fucking. He just wanted to get this over with.

“First off, let’s get something squared away,” Butcher said.

He then turned his head and released a wet cough that didn’t sound pleasant. The man also looked pale, and if you thought about it, he hadn’t been looking well in the meeting earlier either. You gave him a concerned frown.

“You okay?” you asked. Butcher gave you a side glance.

“Fucking phenomenal. Here.”

He provided Ben with an S.A.-issued cell phone, and you with the address of a safe house.

“His and hers,” Butcher said, handing you the keys. You understood his meaning; since Black Noir was after you as well, it made enough sense to put you and Ben in the same safe house.

“Now, lest you think of pulling another Houdini act, it won’t hurt to remind you that you will be watched,” he said to both of you (but mainly Ben). “I myself, along with other agents, will be checking in from time to time, making sure everything’s on the up and up.”

“Whatever, are we fucking done?” Ben snapped with impatience. He started walking out of the cellar, towards the open door that showed the brighter lit hallway. Once he stepped out though, he wasn’t sure where to go.

You gave Butcher a parting look before you caught up with Ben in the hall. You laid a hand on his arm and led him to the nearest bathroom so he could change while you waited outside. You texted with the agent that would be your driving detail, making sure the car would be ready.

After a few minutes of waiting though, you began to get antsy and impatient yourself. You went to the bathroom door and knocked, opening it a crack.

“Ben, you okay?”

“Yeah. Come in,” he said.

You paused, not sure if that was a good idea. But you also didn’t know why that was your instinctive thought.

Taking a breath to steady yourself, you hesitantly opened the door to the men’s bathroom and stepped inside. Ben was already dressed, just fixing his belt.

He wore a pair of dark wash jeans, a plain black shirt, and some boots. It wasn’t his normal look, but even this suited him well. He stretched out the shirt in all the right places, particularly the arms.

But you blushed as you noticed the smirk on his face; he’d totally caught you checking him out.

“Well, that answers my question,” he remarked.

Your lips flickered at a smile as you drew closer.

Looks good, you were about to tell him, but nothing came out. Your voice got stuck in your throat as you looked up at him. It seemed this moment was finally hitting you.

There was still so much unknown shit on the horizon, between Black Noir, Victoria Neuman, Stan Edgar, your family in protective custody, and all the rest. But at least you had helped accomplish one thing today.

Your eyes stung as they welled up with tears, and you bit your bottom lip to keep it from wobbling.

The smirk on Ben’s face faded. But then his brose rose in surprise as you surged forward and caught him in a hug. Your arms slipped around his middle, and his arms fell around your frame, mostly on instinct.

When he felt your tears dampening his shirt, heard you crying softly, felt the tremble in your body, he collected you tighter against him, his hands splaying across your back. Something in his chest clenched up…but then it eased. He dropped his lips to your hair.

“What’s this now?” he asked, somewhat teasing. You shook your head against his chest, not willing to answer. His hand fell to your waist and gave you a squeeze.

“Come on, baby doll,” he said. He grinned a little, though you couldn’t see it. “Where’s that steely bitch who didn’t cut me any fucking slack this week?”

You choked on a laugh, despite the tears still slipping down your cheeks.

“She’s a good actor,” you replied. Ben chuckled and soothed a hand over your hair. It gave you hope that he didn’t resent you too much. You were just so damn relieved.

“I’m sorry this couldn’t happen sooner,” you whispered. You weren’t sorry for not breaking ranks to get him out, but he had to know you’d never wanted him to go from one cage to another.

Ben’s grin faded. He stayed quiet, unsure of what to say to you.

After a moment, your cell phone chimed and buzzed in your pocket. Sniffling, you pulled away from him enough to reach into your pocket and read the text.

“The driver’s ready to take us to the safe house,” you said, pocketing your phone. But you still clung to his shirt with your other hand. You were also avoiding his gaze. Embarrassed, maybe.

It made him smile. He tugged a strand of hair behind your ear, prompting you to finally look up at him. He then bucked a gentle fist under your chin.

It got a small smile on your face, because you knew then that he didn’t hate you. The rage and contempt he’d levied at you this week, it hadn’t been the real him. This was the man you’d held out for…the man you’d caught glimmers of over the past two months.

Ben cleared his throat.

“Well. You ready, sweetheart?” he asked, raising a brow. You nodded and let go of him, wiping your face to make sure it was dry before you stepped outside.

Once the two of you left the bathroom, you led him out of the S.A. building. The car was waiting, another mid-sized SUV, and the driver transported you both to the safe house, which looked like it was going to be outside the city.

Makes sense, you thought. You turned to Ben, who sat with you in the back.

“How do you feel?” you asked. Still drowsy?

He didn’t look it. The moment the Novichok cleared the cell, he seemed to regain his faculties. Now, you were more concerned about the potential psychological effects. You were worried about how the past week might’ve set him back.

But Ben only gave you a wry curve of his lips.

“Like a million bucks,” he replied. His gaze roamed over you, noting your healing cuts and bruises from the car chase yesterday.

“You’re not wearing the sling,” he commented. You rubbed your bruised shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you said, downplaying a little.

Pain meds were doing wonders for you though. Frenchie had slipped you some of the “good stuff” this morning, which had the added benefit of chilling you out for hours. You had come off it a while ago, but you had some normal painkillers in your suitcase.

You’d been escorted home to collect some of your things, and the suitcase now laid in the trunk. You felt bad that Ben didn’t have anything but the clothes on his back…but you were sure the CIA would provide other things for him once you two got to the safe house.

Ben surprised you, however, by thumbing an outline around the butterflied cut on your head as he examined it. “Doesn’t look deep.”

“It’s not,” you agreed, blushing a little. “I’m fine, Ben.”

His gaze found yours then, sharp as always. His mouth twitched.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he said. His voice was a rumble, deep and filled with promise. Your cheeks warmed further as you tilted your head at him.

“What does that mean?” you asked. A smile started to tug at your lips.

Ben just smirked and crossed his arms, facing the road ahead. You eyed him, but a trill of anticipation ran down your spine.

It seemed like a small eternity until you reached the safe house, several miles out into Upstate New York. It was a modest, one-story house in the middle of a gated community.

The outside walls were painted beige with a brown trim. The driveway paved with cobblestone, with a little walkway flanked by small bushes with little red flowers. It was the perfect unassuming place to house the most famous supe alive.

The driver left you with your bags, which Ben grabbed before you could barely reach out your good arm. He flashed you a grin and waited for you to unlock the front door.

“Home sweet home,” you breathed as you stepped past the threshold. Your hands fell to your hips while you surveyed your surroundings.

Behind you, the suitcase and the small duffel bag dropped to the floor. You started to turn towards him, but apparently you weren’t fast enough on the uptake—as Ben hooked an arm around your waist and spun you around.

Before you could even blink, your back was pressed against the door. You’d clung to him on instinct as a gasp fell from your lips. But you looked up into Ben’s smirk, his heated eyes filled with desire, and maybe a flash of relief.

You felt it too. The sweet craving fulfilled of finally being alone, as he claimed you with a kiss. You made a sound of pleasure, of acceptance as your hand rose to his cheek.

Your fingers soon slid into his hair as you tilted your head, deepening the kiss.

Ben braced himself against the door hard enough to shake it on its hinges. It was all you could do to hold onto his arms as his knee pressed between your legs, finding friction against your jeans.

Being with him was a relief, you discovered. And having him inside you was starting to feel like home.

AN: 😏 I know, I'm terrible for ending it there, huh? What did you think of their little reunion here?

Don't worry though, next chapter is the real reunion.

Next Time:

“You need a trim,” you said, letting out a breathy laugh. You kissed his cheek again. Slow, and with purpose.

Ben let out a sigh through his nose. His eyes closed again at your gentler kisses, your touch. Maybe he reveled in this—being able to hold you back. It felt right.

If he was honest with himself (and this time, he was), you were somehow able to ease the frayed edges of his mind. Edges that had been starting to unravel in that cell.

Keep Reading: PART 14

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann83 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @beautiful-life-coded @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

#A Generous Deal #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy/ben x reader #the boys au #enemies to lovers #frenemies to lovers #private investigator!reader #the boys amazon #soldier boy smut #break me down #Part 13 #zepskies writes

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leonardospoetry · 1 year

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And there is the thing that one does, the needle one plies, the work, and within that work a chance to take thoughts that are hot and formless and to place them slowly and with meticulous effort into some shapely heat-retaining form, even as the gods, or nature, or the soundless wheels of time have made forms all across the soft, curved universe—that is to say, having chosen to claim my life, I have made for myself, out of work and love, a handsome life.

Mary Oliver

#mary oliver #quote #writer #writing #words #art #creativity #literature

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dumpsterdivingpossums · 5 months

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I made an M.J for Hobie’s universe

here some info on them

Their intersex, they like going by they/them pronouns since it’s more comfortable for them but they definitely do not mind others referring them as something else

Their full name is

Milani jeen wiltz, but either go by Mil jeen or M.J

Their grandparents went to start a better life however after a few decades after their parents went out to live in Britain due to economic reasons and also spread the word of the black panther party. Mil would be 7 around this time (I did the math, since Hobie is either around 20 or 19 and the date he was arrested in was around 1978 in one of the flashbacks to his intro. We can assume that he was born around near the end of the 50s so I made Mil’s date if birth 1959.)

Mil is of Haitian descent and is fluent in creole so half the time they’ll be speaking in creole

As I mentioned their parents are activists due to them being in the Black panther party, Mil did develop this trait from both of their parents and became involved in activism as well, mostly protest art and civil rights.

(Originally I was going to make them the prowler for Hobie’s dimension but I decided against it but I will put subtle hint here and there to reference that when I make art of them.)

Around the time Hobie became Spider punk is when they met Hobie. A few months after he killed osborn. They had become a big fan of him after the incident and looked up to him a lot, kinda freaking out Hobie due to the fact he barely became Spiderman.

However they started hanging around eacj other more, going on little platonic graffiti dates. He did eventually reveal his Identity to them and they immediately fell in love with him. And 4 years after they’re still together, and are both still dumbasses

Fun facts:

Mil is Polyamorous but like quad dynamics more (ahem *taps on mic* is involved with spider noir and possibly my spider sona as well. Blame Hobie.)

They love making arts and crafts and do love engineering as well. Mostly helping Hobie with his new invention ideas.

They own a daisy rock heartbreaker guitar in hot red, since the brand came out in 2000 logically this wouldn’t be possible without Hobie’s dimension hopping watch, so due to this Hobie went into one of the peter parker dimensions to get this for them for an anniversary present.

They do not live with Hobie however do live near the docks to be closer to Hobie’s house boat.

They love different genres of musical c and fashion mostly being punk,goth and earthy/bohemian music.

Main colors of emotions are mostly pink, grey, yellow and purple. Most of these are due to the one around them. Pink and Purple are mainly because of Hobie or Spider noir Peter parker.

Love roller skating around places and even put in wheels in their mary janes

That’s all for now, I’m still deciding some of their personality traits but yeah.

Also baby them.

#atsv #hobie brown #spider punk #fanart #spidersona #oc art #digital art #artists on tumblr

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marislittleworld · 10 months

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TEKU Mari finished! Hope you'll like it :)

Acceleracers Mari info:

Full name: Maria da Silva Oliveira

Nickname: Mari; Marizinha

Age: 19 years old

Car: Mercy Breaker

Team: TEKU team

I'm going to make the Metal Maniacs version for her. Also new things are coming up, like her fanfic!! And I did the Coast version

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thedeviltohisangel · 6 months

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All The Things I Did (4): The Only Thing That I See

a/n: ok this is the one i warned you guys was horny but i'm sure its actually to our benefit. this is setting up the next couple big plot pieces: harding's arrival and his past with cass, john demoting himself to fly again, cass' next mission and a whole lot more. happy to chat about any of it//we had a great little sleepover in my inbox and i saved a couple to answer over the next few days. more interludes in the chute, submissions still open, and a new masterpost pinned to my blog. happy reading!

When Mary knocked on Cass’ door before the sun was out and warned her it was pancakes for breakfast, it meant the men were flying today. She was looking forward to this raid in particular as the coordinates for the U-boat pens had been passed to her by a new potential source during a previous trip to Belgium. Surveillance planes had confirmed their location but it meant that Colonel Huglin would want her to brief prior to wheels up. John wasn’t flying but he would be watching. She wanted to impress him. Offer him a little bit of insight into the work that she did. Show him the bumps and bruises were worth it if it brought the war to an end even a moment sooner.

He wasn’t outside waiting for her to get breakfast and her heart fell but she knew he was busy. A piece of her was curious what John Egan, Air Exec behaved like. She imagined he was more stoic and held quite the presence. Or maybe he was exactly the same and more of a pain in the Colonel’s side than anything else. Cass smiled to herself as she walked toward the HQ offices. Yeah, that definitely seemed more like her John.

----

He was rifling through papers when she entered the bullpen, calling out headings to the navigators and dodging orderlies delivering cups of coffee. She dropped her jacket off at her desk without anyone noticing and approached the map with small airplanes meant to simulate the raid.

“A few degrees to the east, gentleman. Otherwise, you’ll miss the last loading dock.” Her fingers nudged the group of planes in the correct direction then she stepped back and let the stares wash over her. Deep breaths, Cass. You know you’re right.

“Gentlemen, surely you’ve all at least heard of Lieutenant Cooper. She is the one responsible for locating these pens for today’s raid.” Some of them nodded with respect, others rolled their eyes or scoffed. Most of them seemed ambivalent.

“I’ll be at my desk should any questions arise, Colonel.” Yet all of them could agree on staring at her backside as she walked away.

“You make a habit out of embarrassing the brass the morning of a raid?” She paused her typing with a smile and walked around her desk to meet him in the doorway. There were wildflowers behind his back and she gripped his chin to pull him down for a kiss.

“Good morning, Major.” John hummed with pleasure before going back in for one, two, three more kisses.

“Morning, doll.” His voice was huskier at this hour than she was used to. It sparked right between her legs. “You thought I forgot?” He produced the flowers from behind his back and handed them to her. As she did every morning, she brought them to her nose and blushed like a schoolgirl.

“First mission as Air Exec. Wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.” John stepped deeper into her office, closing the door behind him, as she tucked the latest bouquet into a vase on her desk that was already filled with his previous gifts.

“Would feel better if I was going up as a squadron commander.”

“You would say that.” Cass jumped up onto her desk, welcoming John between her legs with some light scratches on the back of his neck. “I, for one, am happy you’ve got two feet on the ground today.”

“That’s very selfish of you, Lieutenant Cooper.” He stepped closer and kissed her slow. Deliberate. Decisive. Dangerous. He kissed her like he flew. “I’ll stop flying when you stop spooking.”

“But then I wouldn’t get to see you all hot and bothered over my well being again.” John licked his lips as she fiddled with the knot of his tie. Cass wasn’t sure what was coming over her if not, just simply, the allure of John Egan. They had claimed each other publicly. All that was left was privately.

“Did that turn you on, Cass?” She nodded, pressing her chest against his as her tongue slipped between his lips and stirred an ache within him. “Do you like that they could walk in on us at any time?”

“Fuck, John.” Her lips moved to the column of his throat and he groaned at the nipping of her teeth. She was tempted to have him take her right there on the desk. He was tempted too. Wanted to rip those thin, tantalizing panty hose from her legs and hike her skirt around her waist. Had fantasized how soft the skin of her thighs would be. What she would taste like. How she would sound as he worked her over the edge again and again and again.

“Cass, baby, I want you so bad.” She was intoxicating. A siren at sea. At this moment, he was powerless to deny her anything.

“Then take me, sir.” God, he could die a happy man. He was pushing her skirt up her legs, Cass spreading them wider as she leaned back onto the desk and pulled John down with her when there was a knock on the door.

“Major Egan? Lieutenant Cooper?” Cass collapsed onto her back, panting with pent up tension, John catching himself with his hands on either side of her head.

“Just a minute,” John called. He dropped his sweaty forehead to her shoulder in defeat before standing to his full height. His mouth ran dry with a tease of lace, Cass tugging her skirt down to hide it from his starving eyes.

“You like lace. Noted.”

“I think I’d like anything that was on you.” He grabbed her hands and tugged her closer. “Or off you.” No longer able to control herself around John Egan, she stood on his toes and pressed up into his lips once more.

“Major Egan-”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” John stormed to the door and threw it open. “Private, I said we needed a minute.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Cass chuckled as he scurried away, adjusting her jacket and grabbing her briefing materials from the drawer.

“Don’t go scaring them, John. We need young men to want to stay in.”

“He’ll be fine. I’ll apologize when your spell has worn off a bit.”

“Oh? There you go with that witch motif again.” He followed her out of the office, out of the building and into the daylight.

“Has to be some kind of explanation for the way you’ve got me wrapped your finger like this.” She stopped and turned to face him.

“Maybe it’s love, Major.” His retort went right back down his throat. How the fuck did she know? He had tried to say it the other night but had since thought better of it. He couldn’t risk scaring her off.

“Maybe.” She read the yes behind his maybe.

“Maybe,” she repeated, whispering. “We should go inside.” John nodded, stepping closer and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I just need one more minute.” It was a moment John had never really thought about. The moment you realize the woman you love, loves you right back. He wanted to engrave it in his mind, heart and soul. Never forget this feeling with her. Carry it with him until he didn’t have to be afraid of losing it anymore. “Cass? You mean a lot to me, you know that?”

“We’ll make it through this, John. Together.” He kissed her one last time before heading, because how could he help himself, the sound of together silencing all the doubt in his mind. If only for a little while.

----

Cass sat quietly along the side of the room as Colonel Huglin unveiled the target for today’s mission and the unfortunate low-low position that the 100th would take. She looked around and tried to read if any of the men seemed nervous or had any understanding of what was about to happen to them. They were doing a good job of keeping it all at bay.

Eventually her eyes landed on John as they always did. He had recovered from their earlier tryst remarkably quickly. Cass was nearly positive she would need to replace her undergarments at the first available instance. Looking at him now only added to her need to shift and adjust in her seat. Back home, men were either ruggedly handsome and good with their hands or politely coiffed and intellectually impressive. For John Egan to somehow embody both was a figment of all her desires.

He caught her staring out of the corner of his eyes. Offered her a smirk and would have blown a kiss if he wasn’t sitting in the front row. As if she could read his mind, she blew a kiss of her own. John pretended to catch it and slip it into his pocket.

“Our intelligence officer, Lieutenant Cooper, will take it from here before Captain Becker delivers the weather.” Cass stood to the sound of whistles and cheers, a low chant of ‘Spook’ spreading throughout the room. John smiled but kept his decorum. Though that blush on her cheeks was going to make him go mad.

“Thank you for the warm welcome, gentlemen. Lights please.” The room plunged into darkness save for the screen she was using to deliver her brief. “Please note there are both naval and ground based anti-aircraft assets located along the Frisian Islands. Towards the mainland, you can expect concentrated flak from here all the way down to Bremen. Sources tell me they are radar enabled so they will have the capability to track you.” A hand shot up in the crowd.

“Ma’am? What kind of artillery are we looking at?”

“88 and 105.” She paused to see if there was follow up before continuing. “The most important aspect is your target to the northwest of Bremen if I could have the target map, please.”

There were no further questions, John standing to the side while she presented the bombardiers and navigators with supplemental files for the run. She didn’t offer them luck or tell them to fly safe. Just told them to remember their training and stick to the headings she had given them. Anything else would be empty words.

“I think they were very thoroughly briefed, don’t you?” Cass laughed as she gathered her maps and placed them back in her folder.

“Surprised I do more than run around Europe and get shot?” John looked at his shoes sheepishly but his jovial tone seemed to have slipped away.

“Shouldn’t joke about getting shot, Cass. Kind of scared me when that happened.” She touched his cheek gently.

“Once they all take off and you’re done being a leader of men, you can sit and read my report if you like. I’m positive your imagination is worse than the truth.” At least, she hoped it was. “You should go talk to Buck. Give him some parting thoughts.”

“You’re the one who told me there are no words to describe it.”

“Not to warn him or guide him. Just remind him why he’s going up there today and why he will again every time after.” His smile was tight lipped. Her words were very carefully chosen to not reflect the truly dire nature of their circumstances. He appreciated her for it. She held onto that quality as long as she could. Beyond the German surrender and the atomic bomb and the curiosity with what came next. But one day she would have to break. And she knew John would be there. He’d always be there. Had to.

----

It was a couple hours later when he found her again. She looked like she was fighting sleep from behind her typewriter. John couldn’t help but admire the sight, almost regretting the gentle rap of his knuckles on her door.

“Leader of men here for Lieutenant Cooper.” She acknowledged his presence with a smile but kept her chin in her hand. “One plane back with mechanical issues. Just a waiting game.”

“You’re not good at patiently waiting, are you?”

“I think I’m being pretty patient with you. With us,” he added as he motioned around them. “An impatient man would have taken advantage of your offer this morning.” Cass scoffed and sat up. Good. John liked when she was at her full capacity to spar with him. Sometimes, he said something just to get her to banter.

“You only didn’t because of that poor man that knocked on the door!”

“Well, he’s not here now.”

“So, what’s stopping you?” She looked at him expectantly. As if she was actually curious if he would just sweep her desk clean and take her right then and there. She would let him.

“Time. Need to make sure there’s no limit to how long I can take.” Cass liked the sound of that. John taking his time to work her up and up then over. Not just once. Maybe not even twice. She knew what she would be thinking about all night.

“A consolation prize then?” There was a red folder dangling from her fingertips. “It can’t leave this room.” John took it, taking a seat with enough distance from her to keep his head clear of sinful thoughts.

She typed away quietly as he read, something domestic about the whole thing that made them both incandescently happy, only the occasional grunt of concern or impressed hum slipping from his mouth.

“They teach you how to do all this at spook school?”

“Most of it. Some just has to be instinctual. Kind of like your piloting. There is only so much to learn in a training environment before the real thing has to take place.” He looked down and reread the lines about the information she had received. How she had written the tangible impact these identifiers would have on the war. Wanted to skip over the part where the local police followed her after her meeting. How they turned her in and she took a beating but convinced the interrogators she was just lost. How she made her tourniquet out of ripped cotton and a stick.

“Cass, you’re fucking incredible, you know that?”

“It’s always nice to have a handsome man tell me.” Their thoughts matching, she met him on the other side of her desk and accepted his kiss eagerly.

“We always find ourselves here,” he said with a sigh, her cheek fitting in his palm and his thumb resting on the top of her cheekbone.

“Are you complaining?”

“Never.” He leaned back in, ready to seal the world off once more, when the sirens ran off. The planes were back. And with them, the real world.

#masters of the air #john egan #callum turner #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan fanfiction #callum turner fanfiction #mota fanfiction #masters of the air fanfic #john egan fanfic #callum turner fanfic #mota fanfic

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francixoxoxo · 2 months

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Modern!Billy would 1000% listen to Tom Petty and Bruce Springsteen, you can’t change my mind

He’s absolutely putting on his Petty record, skipping to Mary Jane’s Last Dance and singing it in the most dramatic voice he can muster, and you’re laughing at him, which was exactly his goal. If you’re doing something, I’m picturing you’re standing at the kitchen counter, bookmarking pages in a new cookbook, and you hear that damn record come on. You look over your shoulder at the first guitar riffs and you see Billy dancing up to you, grinning like anything, “She grew up in an Indiana town, had a good lookin’ mom, who ne’er was around!”

You can’t help laughing at him, but he doesn’t mind. He steals you away from the counter, it’s not a slow dance, certainly not to the harmonicas and guitars of Tom Petty, but it as dance all the same. “Oh my my, oh hell yes! Honey, put on that party dress!” Who are you to deny Billy a dance? You let his hands come to your waist, even singing along with him, to his absolute delight. He’d absolutely whistle that iconic harmonica line of Mary Jane’s Last Dance while he works, while he’s walking around, all the time, same thing with humming under his breath, “Into the great wide open, under them skies of blue..”

In his truck, he’d totally have a collection of Springsteen CD’s. The truck’s pretty old and pretty crappy, so there’s no aux, just a cd slot. “I don’t mind, baby. S’ hell of a lot cooler than a phone.” Billy would tell you, grinning boyishly as he pushes the manual shift into drive (btw this guy totally swears by driving stick shift and probably is appalled that you don’t know how bc literally who does). His favorite is absolutely Dancing in the Dark, and the moment the song comes on that man is belting. The more embarrassed you are and the harder you laugh at him the more he leans over the console, singing the lyrics with even more pride. “Ya can’t start a fire without a spark! This guns for hire, even if we’re just dancin’ in the dark!” His hand on your knee you absolutely shake your leg a little, ‘cause he knows you think he’s corny. He knows that you think it’s funny that he listens to the music your dad listens to.

But he also knows that you think he’s never been hotter, practically shouting more than singing, his brow and neck sweating a bit from the hot New Mexico summer in a pickup truck without any AC besides the wind blowing past. With his left arm hanging over the rolled down window, driving with one hand on the bottom of the wheel, the defined muscles in his arms shown off by his navy, sleeveless shirt. Those eyes peering at you now and then, those stupidly plush lips pulling over his teeth to laugh at you, tell you that you’re staring. So what if you are? Billy’s yours to stare at— and laugh at.

Might have written this bc I whipped out the Tom Petty record last night when I lost my phone

#we love manly men #that aren’t toxic #big beefy men #billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #tom blyth #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid x you #billy the kid 2022 #william h bonney x reader #modern Billy #modern #Billy the kid modern au #tom blyth characters #tom blyth imagine #Spotify

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ultrone · 1 year

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possessive!jackie. thoughts?

💐 ⨟ 𓂃⁩ᵎᵎ dating possessive jackie taylor

she's possessive most likely due to insecurity—an insecurity stemming from the fear that you might not love her as much as she loves you and that you might replace her with someone better, or something along those lines.

jackie likes to show her affection physically, whether it's holding hands, hugging, or kissing. she wants to ensure you know how much she loves you, and she wants everyone to be aware that you’re together. pda is afraid of her fr 😭😭

sometimes she does it a bit too much, though. for instance, if you're driving and, for some reason, you place both hands on the wheel, she'll pout and grab your hand, placing it back on her thigh or intertwining your fingers together.

or she'll follow you like a lost puppy at parties, either snuggling up beside you or dancing with you. and if she's jealous of someone, you're in for a long night because she won't leave your side FOR ONE SECOND—she'll even come pee with you ☠️

“babe, i really have to pee,” “it’s ok! i’ll turn around 😁”

she needs lotssss of reassurance; however, making her feel loved and happy isn't that hard tbh. even a simple gesture like a forehead kiss or an "i love you" will make her heart flutter in her chest 🤭

if she ever sees you hanging out with someone new, she'll go to the depths of the earth to know everything about that person, instead of simply asking you because she's that extra 🙄 like she'd even be capable of asking misty for help LMFAOO or asking mari cuz we all know that mari knows all the hot goss

she gets upset if you don't pick her as your partner in school or whenever there's a need for partners. for example, one time in chemistry class, you chose van as your partner because you thought jackie was going to pair up with shauna. to your surprise, she avoided you the whole day, looking all pouty. finally, when you asked her what's up, she was like, "did i do something? don't you love me anymore?" 🙄 GIRL STAND UP

goes into a rabbit hole of insanity every time she notices your instagram following go up by 1 LMFAOO

#𓏲 📂 ⋮ my works .ᐟ #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor x y/n #jackie taylor headcanons #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x y/n #jackie taylor thoughts #yellowjackets thoughts

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emisprocrastinatingbywriting · 7 months

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Alone and Forsaken

Chapter 3 Summary:

Falling back into old habits, you snoop through Joel's things only to find pieces of his past. After catching you with a certain photo, Joel leaves you in a panic.

Warnings: Angst/Comfort, Religious Trauma, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of drinking, Joel being mean and then soft, spiciness near the end, A/B/O Dynamics

A/N: Hey guys, I'm glad you guys are enjoying it so far. Thank you so much for reading. As always, watch out for a bit of religious trauma if that is something that is a trigger. Minors DNI! Joel is also fighting a losing battle with himself, do we think he's going to be able to keep it in his pants for 6 months?

Chapter 3/20

Chapter 3: The Rebel & The Old Man

Sweat poured down Joel’s back as he ran as fast as his legs would take him. He had been here before, he had run through the halls of Saint Mary’s hospital time and time again only to find Ellie’s corpse. Sometimes it was even Sarah. Either way, he was always too late. The feeling of loss, insurmountable and piercing, burying itself in his chest was usually what woke him up, but this time was different.

This time Joel had ripped open the door, breathless as he always was and filled with rage, only to find you. You, draped in a gown similar to the one Ellie had worn, except no open skull greeted him. They had put you out, and you laid on the cold table blissfully unaware of the firefly about to start picking at your brain. A fresh wave of panic hit Joel and made him stumble forward into the sterile room.

An all too familiar voice pulled him from his despair, “What are you doing here?”

Joel’s head snapped up, a low growl bubbled from the depths of his chest as he came face to face with the man that he wished he could kill twice. Perhaps sensing the bloodlust that had Joel practically frothing at mouth in front of him, the doctor turned away only to grab a scalpel from the surgical tray behind him.

The man held the scalpel out in front of himself, his hands shaking as he tried desperately to ward Joel off. As if that could hinder the hulking beast that clawed at the confines of Joel’s chest, screaming at him to rip the shaking man apart for even thinking that he could harm you. Pathetic really, Joel thought.

“I won’t let you take her. This is our future. Think of the liv-,” the blade that Joel had shoved through his throat cut the doctor off as he fell to the ground choking on his blood, eyes wheeling around the room as he retched and shook. Joel had heard the speech before, he didn’t need to hear it again with you in such a vulnerable position behind him.

Joel heard the nurses screaming as he moved towards you and began to pull the wires off of your frame, cradling you to his chest and breathing in your warmth.

“NO! YOU FUCKING ANIMAL!,” he heard one of them scream and it made him suppress the laugh that threatened to spill from his lips. An animal? You’re goddamn right I’m a fucking animal, Joel thought to himself as he pushed through the doors.

As he sprinted through the hospital, trying to dodge the fireflies at every corner, he spoke to you over the bullets whizzing past his head, “It’s okay darling, I’ve gotcha. I’m gonna protect you, I ain’t gonna let nothing happen to you omega.”

Joel turned the corner, fireflies hot on his heels and swallowing the bile that soured his mouth, only to find an open elevator. For a moment, he felt relief as he moved towards his goal. But then, just as he thought he might actually make it this time, Joel felt his limbs suddenly grow heavy.

“No, no, no, no…,” Joel cried out as his pace slowed, his voice breaking as tears began to blur his vision, his legs feeling as if they had been filled with cement.

Joel turned towards his pursuers, suddenly feeling the sickening sting of deja vu as he began to plead for your life. He knew it wouldn’t matter to them, just as it didn’t matter twenty four years earlier when the soldier had killed Sarah. It didn’t stop Joel from crying out, desperately begging for them to spare you. They shot anyway.

Gasping, Joel shot off the couch like a bat out of hell. He whipped his head around the room, disoriented and unsure where he was for a moment. His chest felt tight and as he stood in the living room getting his bearings, he worried for a moment that he was having a heart attack. No, Joel decided, assholes like him didn’t get off that easy.

Finally catching his breath, the pounding in his head left little black dots in his vision as Joel was greeted with the aroma that crept down the hall from his bedroom. He swayed on his feet as it beckoned him closer. Groaning, Joel scrubbed the tears from his eyes as he lowered himself back down on the now sweat soaked couch.

What the fuck was he going to do? What had he already done? He shouldn’t have talked to you like that, shouldn’t have let you stay, shouldn’t have pulled you into his lap and let you scent him, he shouldn’t have basked in the feeling of an omega rubbing themselves all over him as he willed himself not to pop his knot like he was a fucking teenager. What the fuck was he thinking? Gritting his teeth, Joel shoved the heels of his hands into his eye sockets as he tried to wade through the shame that filled his being. A shame that was almost like an old friend, one that Joel had grown accustomed to, comfortable even. This process was made incredibly difficult with the delicious smell that had him lifting his nose, a smell that reached into his aching chest to sink its hooks into his lungs and pull him to his feet.

Fighting against his own nature every step of the way, Joel trudged towards the bedroom. He tried to reason with himself as he moved to open the door, trying desperately to remain in the comfort of his own torment. You were probably sleeping and plus, being the creepy old guy that watched young women sleep is not a good look he tried desperately to hammer into his brain. It was no use and Joel crept into the room as quietly as he could, mouth watering as he gulped down the warm air.

And there you were, even breaths soothing the sting of loss that plagued him and replacing it with something new. Joel felt a deep sense of purpose slam into him, his movements not even registering as he saw you shiver atop of the blankets. Joel carefully lifted you from the soft mattress, your hand coming up to grasp two of his fingers in a loose fist. Pulling off the covers, Joel laid you back down, allowing you to keep holding him as he fussed with the pillow behind your head for a moment before he was satisfied. The need to provide sated, Joel moved towards the door feeling as though he might fall asleep before he even reached the couch.

This plan was thwarted as the loose grasp on his fingers tightened, holding him hostage. Joel stood over you a moment, unsure of what to do. Yes, Joel could pull his fingers from your grasp easily, yet he hesitated. Looking down at you sleeping, Joel suddenly felt greedy. He needed to stay, to make sure you slept well, to make sure you didn’t need anything, and how dare he think of doing something that might disturb your sleep? Joel sighed, coming to the realization that fighting off the overwhelming urge to satiate your every need was like fighting with the wind.

Letting his own instincts overwhelm him, Joel dropped to his knees along the bedside and covered your hand in his. Ignoring the ache that already bit at the muscles in his legs, Joel laid his chin on the mattress and watched you through tired eyes. The feeling that Joel felt as he looked at you in that moment was indescribable, like someone had found a way to pump ativan into the air he breathed. Feeling his heart rate slow and tense muscles finally ease, Joel drifted off at your bedside.

- You -

A breeze woke you from a dreamless sleep, your hair tickling your nose as air bristled through the strands. You hummed, moving to stretch your arms over your head before you felt a warm weight covering one of your hands. Your eyes snapped open, gasping as you found a beautiful yet confusing sight.

Joel slept at your bedside, leaned forward on his knees with his face almost meeting yours on the pillow. One hand covered your own, a layer of sweat forming between you, while he used the other for a pillow under his pink cheek. His breath puffed out from his lips, fanning out over your face and making you smile. He looked so peaceful like this, almost childlike with the lines on his face soothed by rest.

You reached out a hand, tentatively smoothing down the curls that had flopped over his forehead and cupping his whiskered cheek. Joel made a small noise, nose twitching for a moment before he settled back into his slumber. You wondered if he knew how striking he was and you longed to wake him so that you could tell him, but you decided against it.

Suddenly feeling how parched you were, you took him in once more, memorizing his beauty before you eased your hand out from under his. Joel’s fingers twitched momentarily, as if annoyed by your departure, and you waited until he settled before you crept off the bed and out of the room.

Shivers shook your frame as you moved into the living room, the floors biting unforgivingly at your feet. It was so much warmer in the room with Joel, heat seemed to radiate from his large frame and cover you like a blanket. Ignoring the urge to go back into the cocoon of his company, you drifted into the kitchen and pilfered through the fridge before finding a water bottle. Tearing off the lid, you tilted your head and let the cold water slide down your throat.

Thirst quenched, you decided to poke around some more. Curiosity killed the Christian, you remembered hearing Josiah say when you had questioned his teachings once. You laugh quietly, remembering how Rachel shot her mate a sharp look as she had sucked her teeth at that. Miriam had pulled you aside after that bible study, your arm smarting from the surprising strength the small woman had used to yank you into a corner. You remember Miriam telling you not to listen to him, that you came from a people that asked questions about everything. Before you could ask what she meant your mother had snatched you from Miriam’s grasp, sending an icy glare her way.

“Do not fill her head with your own beliefs,” your mother had spat, twisting your wrist in her grasp as you winced.

Miriam opened and closed her mouth, softening her gaze as she looked between you and your mother before she spoke.

“But her father…,” she sighed before continuing, “She has a right to know about her own people, he wouldn’t have wanted his daughter -”

“Do not think to speak to me about what Abe wanted, you have no right,” your mother had replied, her voice now cold.

You watched as Rachel moved towards her mate, smelling the anguish that was souring Miriam’s scent as she stood in front of your mother. Arm wrapping around her waist, she accessed the situation before asking if everything was okay.

“Fine,” your mother had said, her voice dripping with sarcasm before she stepped towards Miriam threateningly.

Lowering her voice she practically growled at the older omega, placing her body in front of you in a show of protectiveness you didn’t even know she was capable of.

“I would like to remind you of the situation you are in, with your… history. Do you think he would forgive you if that got out? That he would just let it go?”

Miriam’s head snapped up, her eyes widening in fear as your mother snarled at her.

“Do you think that my daughter is protected because of me? That he would let it go if he knew?,” a bitter laugh left your mother’s thin lips before she continued on, “No. She would end up like the rest. So the next time you want to be valiant and teach MY pup something out of some misplaced loyalty to her father, I would like to remind you that Abe would have wanted her ALIVE.”

After that incident your mother had locked you inside for nearly a month, not even allowing you out to go to bible study. Punishment, she had told Josiah, for being too nosy about sinful things. He hadn’t questioned it, seemingly thrilled at your mother’s show of righteousness. Annoyed, and confused as to what had passed between Miriam and your mother, you had swallowed your protests and scrubbed every inch of the house while mulling over what Josiah had said.

You decided that you agreed with Miriam, even though you couldn’t grasp what she had meant by YOUR people. You would have to swallow your curiosity for the foreseeable future. You resigned yourself to silence, but not compliance. You would not ask Josiah where he put the books he had confiscated from Jake’s aunt, books that had her locked in the pit for two weeks, rather you would wait until he looked the other way before snatching them from the burn pile. Sliding two of them under your thick sweater, you had feigned a sudden burst of nausea so that you could run home and shove them underneath the floorboards in your room, where they would stay until Jake could collect them.

Sneaking around had become a second nature to you, and you were comforted by the habit as you tiptoed throughout the cabin, softly opening drawers and sifting through the contents. There wasn’t much, a few fishing flies, a couple of comic books from a series called Savage Starlight shoved under the extra blankets in the linen closet, a few guitar picks here and there, nothing that out of place. That was until you reached the side table next to the couch. Kneeling down and easing the drawer open, you were greeted with pictures.

The first was of a younger Joel, maybe mid twenties, smiling next to a younger man dressed sharply in a military uniform. The younger man is handsome, with his black curls slicked back and an easy smile on his face as he jokingly saluted the camera, but not quite as handsome as the man that stands at his side, sticking his thumb out in the younger man’s direction as if to say get a load of this guy. It dawned on you that the younger man is Joel’s brother, had to be, as your eyes bounced between the two faces frozen in the picture. You flipped the picture, reading the loopy cursive writing on the back.

Tommy’s Basic Training graduation, look at my handsome boys!

You smiled, placing the picture on the side table before grabbing the next one. The next one showed two young boys, the older one undoubtedly Joel as his puppy dog eyes stared back at you. You suppressed a giggle as you took in his cowboy costume, Joel’s thumbs hooked into his belt loops, and a fake scowl on his face like a true gunslinger. His brother, Tommy you remember, stood next to him dressed like a vampire as he sobbed at the camera. A man with Joel’s eyes and nose was crouched in between them with his arms around their shoulders, a vein popping out of his forehead from how hard he was laughing. Curious once more, you flipped the picture.

After weeks of begging, Tommy decided he wanted to be a cowboy, maybe next year we should get two of whatever Joel wants - haha!

You laughed at that, placing the picture atop the other one before digging out the last one. You stilled as your eyes scanned the glossy paper, the bitter feeling of guilt swirling in your gut. You shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be going through Joel’s stuff when he has already done so much for you, you should put the pictures back and forget about them. But you don’t. You sit there and look at a younger Joel, smiling easily as his large hand covers the eyes of a curly haired young girl. One of her hands covers his, clearly trying and failing to pull his hand off as she laughed at his antics. You shakily flipped the photo, bile rising from your churning stomach as you read the back of the last photo.

Joel and Sarah Miller - 2002

Guilt filled you as you read the words over and over. It was his daughter, you knew that for sure as you saw the shape of his lips and his dimples mirrored onto the girl’s face. You felt like you had been punched, your heart shattering for Joel. He had lost his pup? A small whine left your lips as you turned the picture around. Poor Joel, poor alpha.

“What the fuck are you doing?,” a gruff voice snapped, breaking you from your pity.

You froze, a feeling of dread making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Sighing, you looked up at the dark figure standing in the doorway. Joel’s hair was a mess, curls matted against his face on one side and standing straight up on the other like he had been electrocuted. His cheeks lined from the sheets and eyes slightly watery, you watched as Joel went from groggy to alert in seconds as he took in the scene before him.

So many emotions flickered on his face. Confusion, surprise, sadness, before finally landing on anger. Squaring his shoulders, Joel stomped over to you, snatching the pictures from you before he shoved them back into the drawer. Slamming it shut, Joel flared his nostrils as he looked down at you in a sullen silence.

“I-I…Joel, I am so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have gone through your stuff, I didn’t… I’m sorry,” you said, eyes pleading as you looked up at his face while his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

The glare Joel gave you felt like a knife through your heart. You couldn’t even stop the whimper you let out as he narrowed his eyes before letting out a venomous, “Don’t.”

Joel turned from you then and picked up his jacket from the hook near the door, shoving his arms into the sleeves aggressively. Grumbling to himself, he worked on lacing up his boots as you trailed behind him anxiously.

“Joel, I didn’t mean to. Please, don’t go, it’s not even light out yet. Just wait a few hours until sunrise. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sor-,” he cut you off with just a look and tears began to spill down your cheeks as he pushed past you, slamming the door on the way out.

Silence hits you like a freight train, a bitter feeling of loneliness drawing a loud sob from you. Sinking down to your hands and knees as your cries echoed off the walls of the empty cabin, you felt like you had just lost a limb. You flopped forward onto the cold ground, curling up into a ball as hot tears ran down your cheeks, filling your open mouth as you wailed.

- Joel -

Betrayal.

There’s no other words for what Joel felt in this moment. He felt betrayed by you. It wasn’t the fact that you had gone through his things, he almost expected that. You’d be stupid not to make sure he didn’t have a closet full of skin suits or something creepy like that. Joel had expected a certain level of snooping. It wasn’t that you had found his pictures either. He did feel slightly uncomfortable seeing you hold a picture of his dead daughter, feeling like he should have told you for a moment before shaking himself out of his reverie. He had to remind himself that didn’t know you like that, you weren’t his.

None of that had bothered Joel, which was surprising to him. No, what had bothered him was the way that you had looked at him. Pity had drawn your features in tight, regarding Joel like he was a kicked puppy. It had shocked him, anger boiling his blood as he watched you looking at him like he was helpless. How dare you? He wasn’t helpless, he was perfectly fine, fuck you for making him feel that way.

Joel walked through the twilight, the sun teasing the dark sky with its presence as he growled to himself. He didn’t know where he was going, he just needed to get away from you before he said something he would regret or worse, before he broke down in tears. He couldn’t do that, that would just serve as proof that what you thought about him was true. Helpless, he thought as he angrily kicked the rocks beneath his feet.

Maybe Joel was overreacting, he knew that, but the look you had given him seemed to solidify what he already knew. That he was incapable of doing… literally anything he was supposed to do. You knew that Sarah had died now, proving that he was a bad alpha, a bad protector. Imagine how much worse it would be if you found out about Ellie. He groaned, imagining how his already bruised dignity would be squashed under your pitiful glance. Joel tore at his hair for a moment before continuing to weave through the trees, stopping as he came to the river.

The roar of the river distracted him for a moment, watching as the water swelled over the banks, lifting the plants that resided there for a moment before rushing downstream. Joel took a breath, coming back to himself as his heart slowed. His eyes moved over to the spot he had found you, now covered with the swollen stream. It must have rained last night. Fuck, what would have happened if he hadn’t have found you? You would have froze to death. The thought made his heart leap into his throat. He cussed softly as a guilt twisted his intestines, he shouldn’t have been that hard on you.

Pity or not, you were right. Joel was helpless, he was incapable. Why the fuck else would he be all the way out here? Yeah, you had gone through his things but he was the one that left the photos face up in the drawer for you to find. He hadn’t even put them somewhere more intimate, like a nightstand, he had left proof of his past in the living room. You could’ve stumbled upon it looking for a pencil or a bookmark. Swallowing his feelings of betrayal, Joel steeled himself before turning back towards the forest, deciding that he would check the traps before heading back to his om - to you.

Joel stopped at the door, sighing to himself as he debated on turning back towards the treeline. No, he decided, he had to face this. You were going to be here a long time and if he wanted it to be bearable, he would have to bury the hatchet. Brushing off the dirt from his pants, Joel sucked his teeth for a moment before making his way inside.

Stumbling back, Joel gagged as the smell of the room slapped him in the face. Your soothing aroma smelled burnt and rotten, the stagnant air making him panic as his eyes scanned the room. Where the fuck were you?

“Darling?,” he called out, nothing but silence answering him as his voice bounced off the walls.

Fear shot through him as he tore through the cabin, checking every room before practically ripping the bedroom door off of its hinges. Joel stomped into the room, his breaths coming out faster now with you seemingly gone. Fuck, you must’ve have run off, oh my fucking god no, no, no, no. It’s too cold, you don’t have any food, what if you get hurt? He was bad, he made you leave him, he needed to find you, he needed -

Joel’s ears pricked up, catching a small whine that pulled him from the panic attack he was about to have. Running over to the closet door, he flung it open, looking down and being met with the sight of you curled up on a pile of clothes you must have pulled from his hamper. You were faced away from him, hugging yourself as shaky breaths made their way up your throat.

“Oh sweet girl,” Joel said mournfully, feeling like an asshole as he reached out to turn you towards him.

Another whine, stronger this time, left your lips as you shoved weakly at his grasp. Joel let out a low growl and your protests stopped, resigning yourself as he pulled you from the closet and walked you over to the bed. Groaning as his knees popped and cursing himself for falling asleep the way he had earlier, Joel positioned himself against the headboard with you in his lap.

You were completely limp, the only sign of life being the shiver you let out as Joel began to rub circles into your back. Guilt sliced through his chest as he tried to pull you from this state, moving his other hand to your hair to scritch at your scalp as he had last night. He knew that he had fucked up. Why had he left you like that? Only Joel would be stupid enough to let you cry it out on your own, stupid alpha, bad alpha, fuck, fuck, fuck -, your voice pulled him from his self hatred.

“I’m sorry alpha,” you whispered into his skin, a fresh wave of cries wracking your body.

Joel sighed, swallowing his pride before pulling your face from his shoulder. He took your chin in his hands, forcing your reddened eyes to meet his. He saw guilt, the same that he felt now, reflected on your wet face and it made him want to scream.

“S’okay darling, it - I mean…,” he stopped for a moment before continuing, “I just wasn’t expecting it sweet girl, I overreacted. I’m the one that should be sorry.”

Confusion flashed in your eyes as you studied him, shaking your head at his words as they left his mouth.

“No, it IS my fault. You let me in, gave me food, a place to sleep, and I went through your things. I’m sorry I just thought -,” you froze, pulling your face from his hands and sitting back.

Joel reached forward to grab your chin, making you look at him once more. It frustrated him that you always seemed to find a way to avoid his gaze.

“What baby? What did you think?,” Joel blurted out, ignoring the way the nickname made you look at him.

“When I was with my group I-I… I used to snoop through my stepdad’s things to try and figure out what he was up to, or sometimes I would go through the stuff they took for review in the chapel. I know it was wrong, but I… I don’t know, they wouldn’t tell me anything about… well literally anything, and after they started keeping me apart from everyone -,” you stopped as Joel cut in.

“Review? What do you mean by that?,” Joel said, his face now serious.

You shrunk under his gaze and Joel made himself relax. He tried to keep the possessiveness that tensed his muscles and made him want to bare his teeth at whoever had hurt you. You watched Joel’s hand moved up your shirt, thumb starting to rub circles on your bare skin. He waited for you to push him away but instead he felt as you melted into him again.

Sighing, you looked back up at him before starting over, “When a book or anything else was sinful er… when Josiah thought it was at least, he would take it for review. If it was found guilty of heresy, then whatever it was would be burned. But I um… well I know it’s not right, but I used to steal it back if I could or sometimes I would sneak out with Jake or I would steal food from the meal hall and bring it to whoever was in the pit.”

An uneasy feeling prickled along Joel’s spine, his instincts alerting him of his omega in danger. His omega? Fuck it, there are more important things to worry about right now, he thought as he winced at your words.

Joel had experience with these types of groups, the religious types were always a bit more insidious than the others he had encountered. Desperate people taken under the wing of a twisted mind, using religion to keep themselves powerful. A brief memory flashed through his mind of David and of what he had almost done to Ellie. He went cold.

“What did they… Did they ever put you in the pit?,” Joel asked carefully as he moved his free hand up to cup the back of your neck, digging his fingers into your sensitive skin and practically forcing your body to remain calm.

You blinked and looked up at him with faraway eyes before you said, “Once. Only once. It only lasted a couple of weeks, or maybe it was months I don’t know… And then they were all dead and I was free.”

Joel had so many questions that he wanted to ask but he refrained. He recognized that faraway look that you were giving him, he had used that mask for years but he didn’t like the way it looked on you. Wracking his brain, Joel tried to think of a way to bring you back to him.

“What was the best thing you ever stole?,” he blurted out, cringing at the question.

Joel was surprised as he was met with nothing but laughter from you. Your body shook in his grasp as you threw your head back and a snort forced its way out of your nose. Joel joined, his laughter mixing with yours and warming the room. Wiping your eyes, you caught your breath and looked at him affectionately.

“I uh,” you laughed again before starting over, “I stole a bottle of whiskey that had been confiscated. Then I snuck out with Jake, his boyfriend, and a few other teenagers that they knew. We demolished the bottle and then went skinny dipping, which… I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if they found out, but it was fun. We got away with it… I mean we sorta did. I definitely didn’t escape the headache, but no siestas at the pit for anyone.”

Joel laughed at your story, soothed as the happy memory seemed to pull you back from the depths of whatever hell you had made for yourself in your mind. He brushed a stray tear from your cheek, relieved that it was from laughter rather than sadness.

“S’that right? Didn’t know I had a rebel living with me, thought you were a good girl,” he tsked, playfulness dancing in his eyes.

You gasped slightly, batting your eyelashes up at him before playing with the collar of his coat as you said, “I’m a lot of things alpha.”

Joel gritted his teeth as a moan threatened to expose him. His cock gave a hard twitch in his pants, your scent suddenly overwhelming him as you mindlessly shifted in his lap. The hand he had on your bare hip moved to the small of your back. He felt the softness of your skin before pushing you forward without even thinking. Joel didn’t even register your gasp, your scent wiping his mind of any thought as his hardening dick now rubbed against you. He moved his face towards your neck, fighting the urge to bite down as he gave you a feverish kiss on your gland. Joel’s tongue darted out to taste you, eyes rolling into the back of his head at the taste as he felt you grind yourself needily against him.

It was the high pitched moan that pulled Joel from his indulgence. He stopped in his tracks and you whined, trying to keep his face in the crook of your neck as he moved back. He looked back up at you. You looked fucked out already with your eyes hazy and cheeks hot with lust. Your breathing was as erratic as his as you tried desperately to rub yourself against his aching cock. Groaning, Joel stopped your movements.

“Darling I - we can’t. I know you think you want this, but you don’t. You probably ain’t ever been in close confines with an alpha before, and we… this can’t happen. You don’t want an old man like me and I ain’t about to take advantage,” Joel said through gritted teeth, fighting desperately to remain focused with your chest heaving in front of his face.

The whine you let out almost broke him, it clawed at every ounce of self control that he had but he held strong.

“You wouldn’t be taking advant-,” you cried, trying to weasel out of his ironclad grip on your hips so you could rub your sweet pussy all over him.

He cut you off before you could break him.

“I would be taking advantage. PLEASE baby, we can’t. It ain’t you, okay? Pretty girl like you, it could never be you. S’all me, ya hear?,” Joel said, practically begging you to relent before he snapped and fucked you into the mattress.

You stopped your motions, looking up at him curiously. You sighed, looking a little disappointed and very riled up, but you finally relented.

Joel was surprised as you swung your legs off of him and scooched off the bed. You moved towards the bathroom, leaving him on the bed with a prominent bulge pressing against his zipper and his mouth opening and closing like a fish. You turned, an innocent smile gracing your soft features as you looked back at him.

“Okay well, let me know when you change your mind,” you said simply, turning into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you.

Joel sat there for a moment in silence, his dick painfully hard and leaking at this point as he tried to figure out whether or not that had actually just happened. He heard the sound of the shower being turned on and you easing the curtain back to step under the stream. A fantasy flashed through his mind of him barging into the bathroom, of him stepping into the shower and falling to his knees, of him burying his face into your tight cunt and devouring you, of him lifting you up and spearing you on his cock, of him drilling you into the shower wall until you screamed and tightened around him. Joel palmed his length, shaking his head as he looked at the bathroom door.

“I am so fucked.”

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