#'wait M.M has trauma in it?'

[arcxnumvitae]

Me explaining the plot of M.ystic M.essenger to Steph and reliving it myself.

[yarrystyleeza]

In A Heartbeat (M.M)

"I loved her, father, and her heartbeat was all it took for me to fall in love with her."

Taglist: @mindidjarin @acharliecoxedfan @v4leoftears @itwasthereaminuteago @munsonownsmyass @chvoswxtch @chronicoverachiever @bellaxgiornata @netflixmatt @netflixmatt-main

[series masterlist / main masterlist]

[Prologue]

Word count: 3.8k!

warnings for this chapter: brief mentions of trauma and mental illness, usage of pills, and panic attacks.

The winter air howled through the frigid streets of Hell's Kitchen and danced around the warmth of brick buildings, little snow droplets were swinging through the chilling wild winds. Though the scene might sound crowded, but it was filled with utter silence, even the stray dogs were taking shelter from the stinging cold. That wasn't long until something broke the silence of the storm.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

A heartbeat has caught the blind vigilante's attention. Such a young pump in this cold weather, what could force it to be out at this time of the night?

That's when a sweet fragrance hit his nostrils, put him on alert. It was a scent of a woman, so floral and sugary, but definitely captivating.

A laughter tore its way out of the snowy storm, it made his heart flutter out of his chest, he thought it had skipped a beat, and a little wave of blood rushed to redden his partially hidden cheeks.

His hearing was soon met by the soft crunches of her winter boots on the thin layer of white snow, the lub-dubs against her ripcage grew louder and her breath was warming the space in front of her a little each time she expired.

"It was a hard case to be honest with you, but it actually made me realize that I can go back to where I've always belonged to," her voice went smoothly through his ears like a satin ribbon, "mom, I guess I'm ready to call myself detective Mayfield again," she swung the plastic grocery bag softly, "oh, sweetie, you finally said it! You won't believe how long I waited for this moment..." her mother said on the other side of the call, a soft sob left her mouth, "aw, mom, please don't get me started with crying now, you won't be able to shut me off," she chuckled as a stray tear went down her blushed cheeks, she rubbed her cold nose.

"But don't get too excited about it yet, I'm still hunting some offices down to hire me," she made it to her building, walking up the stairs to her apartment floor, "offices? I thought you'd be back to the department..." her mother commented, "I don't think I'm ready for that action, I just made it out alive," she sighed, bolstered the phone between her shoulder and ear to get the key inside the hole.

"Come on, sweetie, you can do it, I know my baby..." her mother begged, "mom. I know what I'm capable of doing now--" she interrupts, "--and being back to the NYPD team is just... Out of my league," she sighs, putting the keys down on the dresser and taking her purse off her shoulder, she steps out of her boots and takes her jacket off, dusting the ice off the thick fabric before hanging it on the hatstand.

"Alright, baby... But at least tell me it's on your mind?..." she sighed at her mother's quest, a tired smile grew on her face, "alright, mom... It'll be on my mind, but not for now," she promised, with a little regretful frown, "sorry but I gotta go now, mom, I'm a little tired of today's celebration at the paper," she rubbed the front of her brows, "alright, sweetie, don't forget to have a decent dinner, you deserve it, baby... Goodnight, my dear," her face stretches widely as she smiles, "goodnight, mom, I love you," she hangs up.

Her sock-covered feet make friction against the wooden floor as she lazily drags them, she takes the wool scarf rounding her neck off, throwing it to the hanger, hoping that it would land perfectly, but it doesn't, so she turns back and hangs it manually. A loud purr followed by a trail of meows is making its way to her down the living room, "aww, look who's excited for mommy being home?" she carries her cat the moment she steps in front of her, "you're hungry, baby? I brought us drumsticks for dinner! You're getting a treat for mommy's celebration!" her cat meowed louder, getting feral for the chicken smell intoxicating her nostrils.

"You like them, right?" she cooed, her voice interrupted with her loud chewing, humming at how happy her cat is. They finish their meal and both of them get ready to go to bed, she changes into her cozy sleepwear and goes right under the heavy blankets, her cats snuggles next to her beneath them not long after.

A smile stretches his rosy lips as he supports his body to stand up off the emergency stairs attached to her building, taking the way up to the roof to jump off one rooftop after the other, taking the safest way home, though he realizes they are a street crossing from each other.

Keeping focus on her calming heartbeat, he climbs up to his apartment, he opens the emergency door and walks down the stairs to the main area. Removing his black mask off of his head, a smile unconsciously grows on his face, as he felt his heart pumping loud in his chest, like a drum solo in an orchestra performance, the blood rushed to his cheeks to redden them louder, more vibrant.

He stepped out of his dark leather boots and took his tight black shirt off, dragging his feet down to his bedroom, he threw his tired weight onto the mattress, face imprinted in the fabric of his silk sheets.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The vigorous heartbeat is pumping gently in his ears, combined with the soft crunches of the falling snowflakes, and her soft huffs of air as she breathes. Probably she's having a nice dream, he thinks. A sudden wave of guilt washes over him. He knows he shouldn't eavesdrop someone, specially in the safety of their home with no danger surrounding them. But he can't help it. As if the tick-tocks of her heart were the last thread he's hanging on, and he's holding on for life.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

It's almost two in the morning, his tired eyes kept focused on the ceiling, his lids were so desperate for a few hours of sleep. But oh poor they are, his heart was forcing him to stay awake, following his ears' orders to keep on listening to her heartbeat. He feels like he's drugged, he can't drag himself out of this, he's intoxicated by the simple sound of thumping in this cold night.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He finally gives in, he lets his eyelids fall into rest after hours of fighting back. His own heartbeat settles in, and his body feels like falling through the mattress to another level of existence. The ticks of her heart created a soft lullaby for him.

Peep. Peep. Peep.

His very annoying alarm goes off, he grunts as he lifts his heavy head off the pillow, he feels hammers pounding on his skull, he fell asleep at almost 5 am, and now that it's already six in the morning, he can't fall asleep back again, he has to get his ass off the bed and go to work.

He searches for the vigorous sound again, the loud pumps catch his ears again, this time more active, more excited. "good morning, my love," he heard her cooing at her cat, a smile stretches across his face, "mommy's gonna start searching for some offices... From the safety of our home," he loves how her tone shifts when she speaks to her cat, "yes, I know, I know, but we have to," he hears the little purrs in response to her, "don't worry about that part, you'll get fed with the same amount," her feet shuffle against the wooden floor, her cat follows her around with little tabby waddles. The strong aroma of hot espresso hit his nose, as she started to prepare her morning coffee.

He removes the sheets off of his body and takes a deep breath, inhaling the air that surrounded him, taking whatever littlest scent of hers, the feminine pheromones of her freshly washed body, the soft lavender shampoo fragrance that stuck onto her locks, the floral essence of her body lotions, the stiff aroma of her morning coffee, the funny odor of her cat's dried food, and the delicious smell of her sizzling hot breakfast.

Every scent he inhaled wasn't the first he'd ever encountered but, somehow, the combination of all of them was very unique, even new to his olfactory senses.

He got into his morning routine, barely pushing her presence to the back of his head. He took his morning shower, and put on his gray suit. He tied the thin black tie firmly around his thick neck and combed the chocolaty waves on his head. He wraps the watch around his wrist and wears his crimson red blinds. He puts his dark coat on, takes his briefcase, along with his sight aid cane and keys, and leaves the house.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

As stable as it can possibly be, he can hear it through the titanium walls of the elevator, louder than the buzzing electricity aroung him. The elevator lands down and he makes his way out of the building.

"What took you so long, Matt?" his blonde friend greeted him the moment he came into sight, "your night wasn't rough, buddy?" his friend asks gently, he shakes his head softly, "it was the best night," he answers with a slight smile, as softly as he moves with his friend along the sidewalk, "wait, you hooked up with some girl last night?" his friend stops walking, turning to face him.

He shakes his head with a chuckle, "no, at all," he shrugs, "if so, then what got you so worked up like that? Your face is red, bud," his friend digs down deeper, but he knows he can't get a word out of Matt's mouth if he doesn't want it to get out.

Matt smiles, the blush on his face grows louder and more vibrant, as he heard her faint giggles as she plays with her cat.

"Come on Ivy, catch it! " she snickers, "you're such a good girl! "

"Jesus, my man, you don't seem fine at all, are you sure you can make it to the court today?" his friend tilted his head a bit to the right, he's worried now. "I'll be okay, Foggy, don't worry about it," he shrugged with a slight chuckle in his voice, "c'mon, we got a trial to catch," he grabbed his friend by the arm.

Usually, Foggy is the one who leads the way, but today, Matt wanted to force himself away from keeping on listening to her heart, as he couldn't shut his ears off, the only option he had was to get away from the sound as far as possible.

"How can you actually catch a certain girl's attention?" Matt blurted out, Foggy stops, tilting his body to face his friend's. He keeps staring at him for a moment before actually speaking, brows shooting up his forehead, almost reaching his hairline. "You are not okay, buddy! You, Matt Murdock, asking me, Foggy Nelson, to teach you how to catch a girl's attention when you're some women magnet on feet?" Foggy spoke, Matt shrugged, "I'm just..." his brain circuit cuts again, the memory of her laughter rings in his head like a scream in an empty hall, "there's definitely something wrong with you, bud, who's that girl that's keeping you like this?" Foggy's expression softens, "like what?" Matt's brain is refusing the fact that it stopped functioning properly ever since last night, "like this! All red and blurting and probably daydreaming! Who is this lucky girl?" he doesn't even know the answer yet.

Who was that lady? Detective Mayfield? The name somehow rings a bell in his head, he's not sure when he'd heard it, but he's sure it was long ago.

"Never mind it, just a thought," he's sure it wasn't, but even if he told the truth, he doesn't even know what to say or how to say it. He's confused, garbled, and his thoughts are scattered. Foggy surrenders before they continue their way to the office — to gather a couple files before heading to court, meeting Karen, their third friend.

Hours of arguments and stress pushed the memory of her thumping muscle to the back of his head. But soon it was back into view, intertwined with the oh-sweet memory of her chuckles.

They left the courtroom after what felt like eternity, promising to catch some cups of coffee together to discuss the latest elements of the case, and maybe to get their shit back together. The office has been a total mess for a while.

Karen's phone buzzed with a message, she took her phone out of her purse to check it. "Boys can you wait for me? Just ten minutes, I'll be back," she says, gathering her sunny silky locks behind her ear, "just ten, my head is gonna explode if I don't get coffee soon!" Foggy jokes, to which she gives him a thumb up, spins and goes on her way.

"You've been silent since we got out, you okay?" Foggy starts, Matt turns at him with a slight confused smile on his face, imprinted the lone dimple on his right cheek. "We've been talking for hours, I'm barely standing now, Fog," he jokes, throwing his shoulders down.

He was keeping track of Karen meanwhile, the place was so crowded this morning after all, he wouldn't like her to get lost in the sea of people and spend time trying to find each other.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He thought he imagined it, it's faint, he's not sure if it was even real. But the more Karen moves, the louder this heartbeat got, as if she's walking towards it.

His blood raced up to heat his cheeks, making them grow all red. His dark thick brows shoot up his forehead, and a little side smile stretches on his lips.

It's her.

Again.

Her laughter cleaves the air and through his ears goes. It's her again. Was her presence a miracle? Well, he didn't believe in those but, he sure thinks this is one.

"Matt?... Matt? Matt!!" Foggy shakes his shoulder, gently but enough to snap him back to his senses, "Matt, I was talking to you! You okay, buddy? It's happening again, are you ill? Do you need to see a doctor?" Foggy was worried, his brows knitted together, he didn't know what was wrong with his friend, and surely he wouldn't ever know if Matt doesn't tell him.

His lips parted and closed multiple times. He doesn't have an answer. That's not even love if that what they call it, right? But it surely moved something inside him, it changed the chemistry of his brain. She flipped the light switch of a dark room he kept closed for a long time.

"Sorry I was late, guys," Karen breaks through the crowd and makes her way to them, and breaks the uneasy situation Matt got into. "No, don't mind it," Foggy speaks, trying to get his mind off of how weird Matt was acting the whole morning, "what was that thing that made you leave so quickly?"

"Oh," she exclaims with a shiny smile, "it was my friend from the bulletin, she wants to go back to her old job and she's here finishing some legal papers."

So she's Karen's friend? Matt knew he had to take advantage of this.

"What was her old job?" Matt asked with innocence in his tone, "like... we can help her on it," he corrects himself, readjusting the red blinds. "She was a detective back in the NYPD, the youngest in her team--" Karen answers, "--wait this rings a bell--" Foggy interrupts her, snapping his fingers, "--yeah, detective Mayfield, right?" Karen blinks and nods, "yeah, yeah... That's her, Madilyn Mayfield!"

Detective Madilyn Mayfield... He knew something was so familiar about her.

"Matt, you remember the cop who returned that whole school bus back to their families years ago?" Foggy pokes his bicep. He does remember now. She was the talk of the town back when he used to work with Foggy at Landman and Zack's.

"Yeah, I-- she was amazing," he tried to play it cool, but he couldn't help the smile that tore his face into two halves. "Well, she still is," she nodded animatedly, "she wrote amazing articles at the bulletin boards as well as reporting some of the massive events in the past couple years, I think you might've came across one of her articles before. Frank's case? She was supporting him a ton!"

It was under his nose this whole time.

"So what is she looking for?" Matt stirred his cane as he spoke, "Maybe we can help her."

He has to take his chance.

"Well, she's looking for private investigation offices to hire her," Karen answers, "she's still not ready to be back in the NYPD yet," she shrugged, curling her lips downward a bit.

"Maybe we can link her to Jessica Jon--" Foggy suggested, "--maybe she can join our team," Matt interrupts him with a higher tone, laying his winning card, his last card, hoping it actually wins. "Maybe it's time for us to expand our services a bit," he smirks oh-sure.

Foggy raises his brows, throwing eyes between Matt and Karen, who is eyeing Matt with surprise. Karen blinks multiple times, mouth gaping and closing. "You know what, you're right!" she nods.

Exhale.

Foggy shoots his brows higher, still looking back and forth between Matt and Karen. The idea looks fine to him, he doesn't even disagree, but Matt doesn't look fine at all. His smile grew wider and his cheeks are redder than ever. But still, he has no idea what got his friend so worked up like that.

Her heartbeat fades slowly out of the place. She must be leaving now.

"You can talk to her and offer this new job," Matt speaks, "if that wouldn't be a problem," he smiles sheepishly, "no, don't worry about that, I'll talk to her about it," she smiles back.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going to send Ellison my resignation letter tomorrow, I'll talk to him about it, I know he'd understand, he should," her voice rang softly in her warm apartment after the night has fell. "I've been struggling with working at the paper lately, and I think he already knew something was wrong so I think it would be a win for both of us," she caresses her cat's white fur.

"But d'you really think he'd understand and wouldn't be so pissed off about your leave?" her mother asks. Madilyn sighs. She's not so sure about it, but he can't force her on the job, can he? "I dunno, but I hope his mood is good tomorrow morning... But I just checked my inbox, he sent me an email asking why I didn't come over this morning, and my phone... Well, it has about twenty missed calls from him and other paper staff... Did I take this decision at the worst timing?" she rubs her forehead until it's reddened, standing off her seat to aim for the window.

She knows it's a very frigid night and that she'd catch a rough cold. But she needed to breathe, she felt the air being squeezed out of her lungs. Her panic attacks were less frequent lately, but it happened twice this week.

And this is the third.

She slides the glass up and sits by the frame, heart beating faster than a racer on the run, sweat hurling down her skin like the British showers despite the coldness of the air streaming through the window.

"Maddie?... Maddie, are you still on the line, baby?" her mother calls out from the other end. Her vision gets blurry. Her mouth is dry. The sound in her ears feels numb. She slides against the wall finding shelter on the ground.

One. Two. Three...

One. Two. Three...

One. Two. Three...

The salty sweat travels along her forehead, passing over her trembling lips, her teeth grinding onto each other.

The thought of things going bad after years of waiting and trying to go back is definitely worse than a nightmare.

Her shaking fingers fidgit as the world spins around her head, lights and shadows twirl against her eyes. She's scared, as if death is coming for her head. She's groping for anything around her as if she's drowning in the middle of the ocean, feeling her lungs suffocating as if the water rises to her neck.

Those eight minutes felt like a lifetime.

"Mo-- mom?... Mom, are-- you here?" she finally speaks, throat feels like bounded in thorns, dry and scratched. Her eyes shakily travel down to find her phone lying on the wooden floor. "are you okay, baby?... Was that an episode?... Are you still on the pills?..." her mother watered her with questions, voice cracking a sob.

She stopped taking the pills as she thought it made her feel worse. It did. She's been consuming a lot of medical substances for the last couple years, trying to find something to help her recover and forget about all the traumatic events she's gone through.

Nothing was working, eventually. Therapy helped a little, yes, with time and practice, but she knew she couldn't tell her mother she stopped the meds. She'd be even more worried.

"I'm-- I'm okay now, mom..." she rubbed the front of her head multiple times, sighing after what felt like eternity of holding breath, "I'll be okay..."

A swift movement caught the corner of her eye, a soft shuffle in the thick snow piling over the metal emergency stairs.

"you're still there, Maddie?..." her mother asked, "did something happen to you again, baby?..."

She peeped her head out of the window but couldn't see anything out of place, things were... Strangely calm tonight. Ground is painted with white, while the sky is pitch black, clouds are crowding over her head.

"hello?..." her mother calls on the other end. "yeah, sorry, mom, I...--" she answers, her honey irises are roaming right and left, "--I thought I heard something outside my window..." she takes a final look before sliding the window back down. The room no longer frigid. Neither is his heart.

He might've went too far tonight, he knows it. He went to bed with thoughts storming his head, he didn't expect things to go this way or, to his surprise, witness her going through a solid panic attack.

He knows he can't help it, and he knows it's so wrong to eavesdrop someone in the first place, but... Something about her drew him in closer and,

He couldn't get away anymore.

END NOTES:

Our blind vigilante caught a heartbeat that changes everything for him. Well, he's well aware of how wrong eavesdropping sounds, but he simply just couldn't help it, he's getting addicted to her.

Basically, Madilyn leaves the bulletin paper and makes the decision to go back to the battlefield. But still, she is afraid of her decision, actually she is terrified, which leads her to this panic episode. She's not taking medication for her condition on a regular basis which makes her situation falter. And Daredevil, he witnessed all of this.

[next]

[18-2024]

Revisiting The Woods

Sam decided to go with Mother's Milk, Frenchie, and Kimiko. They had just exited elevator into the Woods.

Seeing the Woods again, Sam was overfill with fear and anxiety over trauma that he was inflicted on him here.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turns to his side and saw Kimiko's hand on his shoulder.

Kimiko (signing): Hey, are you right?

Sam (hesitantly): Uh yeah, I'm fine.

Kimiko: Hey, I understand, this has to be a scary place come back to. If you can't handle this, you and I can wait upstairs while Frenchie and M.M. get samples of the virus.

Sam: Thanks Kimiko- but I'm fine.

Sam, Kimiko, Mother's Milk, and Frenchie walked to the containment cell where the virus was. To Kimiko, M.M. and Frenchie's horror, they saw what remain of an infected supe.

Sam (whipsered): Andy

Kimiko (looking at Sam): Fellow prisoner of yours?

Sam: Yeah- he was funny, but also sad-

Kimiko started to feel bad for the deceased supe.

Sam: He was bipolar.

Kimiko looked away from Sam and to Andy's remains, feelings sorry her fellow supes who would endure what the woods do to them.

M.M.: So you said this virus would affect supes right?

Sam: Yeah.

Mother's Milk.: You and Kimiko stay here, me and Frenchie will take it from here.

Sam: Okay M.M., I trust you.

Mother's Milk: Frenchie?

Frenchie (putting on his gloves): You got it

Frenchie and M.M. opened the cell and down and went inside. There Frenchie begins extracting samples from the corpse.

Sam and Kimiko were there outside they watch Frenchie carefully get samples of Andy's corpse. Kimiko's face had horror on it, she couldn't imagine Vought had resort to a supe killing virus.

Sam's had similar feelings, he feel remains stoic. He thought to himself. He was upset by Andy's death, but he's thought about how this would've happened to him, if Emma didn't him break out before.

Eventually Sam was unable to deal with he was seeing and thinking, he walked, trying to clear his mind.

Kimiko noticed Sam leaving. She wanted to go after him. But she knows after what Sam has been, she should probably give him space. She would've wanted the same if she did Sam's experience.

Sam walks down the hall, passing cell by cell, until he reached his own. There, he remembers the terrible experiment being done him. Flashes came quickly, as he remembers all the torture and pain he has been through here.

Including the times, where Dr. Cardosa had nailed needle into his spine. One of the most cruel and brutal he ever felt.

Suddenly he felt a touch on his spine. He jumped, but looked behind him to see that Kimiko had placed her hand on his back, right where the needle went.

Kimiko: You're alright?

Sam: Uh- yeah.

Kimiko (looking at the cell): Was this your cell?

Sam: Yeah- alot stuff happened to me here. Bad stuff.

Kimiko with sorrow in her eyes just places her hand his shoulder again.

M.M. (walking up to them): Okay we got the samples, let get out of here-

M.M. looking from the cell to Sam's face.

M.M. (placing a comforting hand on Sam): Sam, I know this gotta scary for you, we'll get you out of here

Both him and Kimiko escorted Sam out halls and back into the elevator where Frenchie waiting with the samples.

As the elevator doors closes, Sam gave one last look to his prison.

[zepskies]

Thank you, I did my best to get their voices right! 😭 M.M. and Butcher were my favorites actually. loll

(YAY! I love rambles. 😘)

I absolutely love how we can see how her friendship with Butcher is developing, because he's starting to ignore her less and tease and joke with her a little more. And we can see her relationship with M.M. grow by the way he starts to take care of her the way he does the rest of the team. 😍

Butcher's a hard nut to crack, but over a period of weeks of actually being helpful, she finally wore him down. 😂 But I love that observation about M.M. as well! 💚He's def the mother of the group, and that's a key indication that he likes you lol.

She's so smart for this and for realizing that a person is many things, and the outward persona is just one part. We definitely learn a lot about people from what they try to keep hidden.

Exaaactly. That's going to be an ongoing theme throughout this story.

Hmm...I'm curious when that's gonna start to change. 🤔

Oh yeah, she's going to go on an evolution of character as well. 👌🏽

Wow, very cool insight into her relationship with her father in just one short paragraph. I'm so intrigued.

Thank you!! Without any spoilers for ya, I can say that that relationship is...fraught lol.

Yeah. 😞 This is one of the big things (there are others) that keeps me from hating Soldier Boy. The trauma is so real and heartbreaking. Like obviously he's done terrible things, but I think 40 years of torture is payment for his crimes, and he needs someone to help him figure out who he is on the other side of that and beyond all the bravado and bullshit. I can't WAIT to see how the reader manages to kick-start that in him.

So eloquently said, and I wholeheartedly agree. Yes, he's a callous asshole who doesn't really care about his crimes, and he wears that SB persona as easily as his supe suit (AKA: costume 😜). But Ben is still capable of change, with the right catalyst. 😉

😄 That'll get Butcher on her side that's for sure. But she's gonna need that kinda attitude if she's gonna take down Soldier Boy!

LMFAO facts on both counts! 🤣 She's gonna need a lot of chutzpah. 🤌🏽

😬😬 I'm more worried someone will overhear her outside. Go talk in the bathroom with some running water for white noise! 🫣

Ahh in hindsight that would've been a more realistic idea. 😆

Again, that "out from under Dad" has me wanting to know more about her relationship with him. I wonder if her and Ben will be able to bond a little over shitty dads. ☹️

And again, your instincts are spot on, hun. 😂👌🏽 Trust me, we'll get to both of those questions.

😱😱 I knew it!! Oh Ben, don't do something awful with your newfound information. Unless...it isn't Ben at all, but the other "familiar voice" that was mentioned at the beginning of the prologue? Hmmm... 🤔

Ooh such delicious questions. 😏 And all I can say is, the answers will come in due time.~

I'm so glad these first couple of chapters managed to hook you, friend!! Things are going to start ramping up for real in the next chapter. 😘💚

Break Me Down - Part 1

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: 5,200 Warnings: Some male skeeviness lol.

Part 1: The Game Begins

Two months ago…

You and M.M. continued to pour over all the records that the CIA had been able to pull on Soldier Boy.

This had been your life for the past month: locked in one hotel room after the next, up to your eyeballs in research. Or pounding the pavement in the sweltering summer of Brazil, on any whisper of Soldier Boy.

Right now it was the former. You all were piled into M.M.’s room, as it was the only one with a kitchen.

You smiled at Frenchie and thanked him when he offered you a steaming mug. At least you would finally get to experience Brazilian coffee.

You hiked a foot on the table where you and M.M. were working and sipped carefully; the mug was filled to the brim. Your companion eyed your pajama-clad leg, which only encroached an inch or two into his space.

“Excuse the fuck outta me,” said M.M. “Can you not?”

You briefly looked up from the (completely fabricated) biopic you were reading on Soldier Boy. “Hmm?”

M.M. gestured to your bare foot on the table. “Hello? What, were you raised in a fucking barn?”

With an amused smile, you lowered your leg. “I’m cramping up. We’ve been at this for six hours.”

“And counting,” Hughie said with a tired sigh. He and Annie had just come from scoping the local tourist spots and dive bars in the city. It wasn’t for pleasure though. You all had arrived in Brazil last night on a rumor that Soldier Boy had been spotted at a club a couple of days ago. 

Annie heaved a sigh as she dropped into the seat next to you. She stole your paper fan on the table and tried to dry the sweat on her face and neck. You smiled and passed her your bottled water as well.

You and Annie had been “work friendly” at Supe Affairs. Now you felt like she had accepted you the most readily into the group. She seemed genuinely interested in who you were as a person as well.

Though you tried not to give too many personal details about your life, she had a way of disarming you, getting you to open up with her genuine willingness to listen. 

You were friendly enough with Hughie and Kimiko as well, and you could also admit, you liked M.M. He was a straightforward man (and fun to tease with his anal idiosyncrasies). You got the most done with M.M. by your side. And watching him with Frenchie was pure entertainment. 

Overall, you felt respected by them, even if you knew you weren’t as close as the rest of them seemed to be. You just hadn’t been on the team long enough. 

The only one who mostly ignored you was Billy Butcher.

Butcher didn’t want you on the team. He’d made that pretty clear from the beginning.

What had his words been? Oh, yeah.

She’s a fucking amateur. Won’t last thirty seconds if, heavens for-fuckin’-bid, she encounters an A-lister like Soldier Boy. 

You knew he considered you dead weight. But as Grace had told him, her track record speaks for itself. 

No, you weren’t former SAS, like Butcher. You weren’t CIA, or any other military alphabet soup. But if there was one thing you knew how to do, it was tracking people down.

You were currently flitting through Soldier Boy’s sham career: the shitty music videos, the starlets, the ticker tape parades, and what precious little there was about his beginnings: about “Ben.” 

You did find out that his family was from Hartford, Connecticut, and stupidly rich too. You found his parents’ names to go along with that. 

And then it was a hop, skip, and a jump to him being unveiled as Soldier Boy.  

“That is curious,” you murmured. 

“Curious about the world’s most infamous granny fucker?” Butcher remarked. You slid him a wry look. 

The fact that he tried to erase his past is interesting,” you said. “The details that aren’t here are just as important as the ones that are.”

Butcher hesitated a second, an ice-cold beer poised to his lips. He tipped it toward you in acknowledgement. “On that, we actually agree.”

“What do we know about his real life? Before he became Soldier Boy,” you asked.

Butcher sat down across from you and shaded in the details he knew, mostly about a disappointed father. 

“Didn’t get enough hugs as a lad,” he surmised. 

You suspected he was understating the truth. If there weren’t that many recorded accounts, pictures, or footage of Soldier Boy’s parents and home life, then he didn’t want people to know. 

Interesting, you thought. Eventually Butcher got up to run down another lead that came in via text from Grace. Frenchie came back from the kitchen and saw how intently you were staring at your computer screen, eyes rapidly scanning. 

“Ah,” Frenchie said, gesturing between you and the departed Butcher with a hand that held three alfajores cookies. “I see the same anal tenacity that fuels Monsieur Charcutier.”

You raised a brow. “My tenacity is for the case, not Soldier Boy.”

This wasn’t a vendetta for you. This was just business.

“For money,” M.M. correctly guessed, but his eyes held no judgment. “Been there.”

You sighed, smiling a little. Yes, you were doing this for money. They didn’t need to know anything more than that. 

You liked this team well enough, but this was a job. The way you protected your family, and yourself, was by not talking about them.

That night, Frenchie’s ordered “package” arrived, courtesy of Grace. It was a healthy dose of Novichok gas—perhaps one of the only substances on Earth that could put Soldier Boy into a peaceful sleep. 

Well, you didn’t know if it was peaceful, exactly. But he’d be asleep. That was all any of you cared about.

“At least it’s in proper containment this time,” M.M. said, examining the large cannister. Annie peered at it over his shoulder. 

“I don’t know. My shitty perfume case seemed to hold it just fine,” she quipped. 

You smiled from your usual seat at your computer. Annie came over with a sandwich for both of you. It was from the café down the street, and you’d been meaning to try it. Every time you stood out on your hotel room’s balcony, you could smell fresh bread and smoked meats coming from the café. 

“Oh, yeah. How’s your sister?” Annie asked around a mouthful of sandwich. “She’s in college now, right?”

She had a good memory. Annie had heard you on the phone with your sister before you all left last month. You’d said one last goodbye, knowing it wouldn’t be safe to talk once you were locked into this mission.

While you were reluctant to answer Annie’s question, the others seemed distracted in the kitchen, fighting over who ordered chorizo and who ordered steak on their sandwich. 

Still, you lowered your voice, even as a proud smile graced your lips. “She got into Julliard.”

Annie grinned and set her food down to give a little clap. 

“She starts in the fall, so a few months,” you added.

“Aww, you’re glowing with pride,” Annie teased. And you laughed, but it was true. You wouldn’t hide that you were very proud of your little sister’s accomplishments. 

“She’s worked hard, and she deserves it,” you said. Though your eyes dimmed. “I just wish I could help her celebrate…she’s on my case for taking this job.”       

Quite simply, she worried about you. You were good at your job, but you were still human. She’d seen you come home banged up and bruised more often than you cared to admit…

Annie gave you a knowing look. “If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to. I’m sure you can get other jobs—”

“Getting into school is just the beginning,” you said. “She’s got four years to go. Then her master’s. Hell, her doctorate if she wants.”

“There are scholarships…”

“It’s not enough,” you said with a sigh. It’s never enough.

“All right, lads,” Butcher said. He wiped his mouth with a napkin as he read off his phone. “The new Strongest Cunt in the World has been spotted. Suit up.” 

“Where’re we going?” you asked, closing up your laptop. 

Butcher shot you a wink. “Colombia.”

While on the private plane, you were the only one still awake as you continued to watch the archival footage with your Airpods in. Reel after motherfucking reel of Soldier Boy. 

You really were starting to get sick of his smug face. He was clearly a good actor, if nothing else. 

Then you came across the Russia files. 

Part of you didn’t want to watch. You knew exactly what they were, and you didn’t want to see anything that would make you sympathize with him in your mind…

And yet, your father’s training was ingrained in you—like fingerprints on your skin. Like a vice grip around your throat. 

Everything is relevant, always. Even if it isn’t.

…That, and maybe your own insatiable curiosity won out. 

So you steeled yourself with a breath, and you hit the play button. 

Gradually, your eyes widened. 

You had seen awful things—as a private investigator at your father’s firm, and at Vought. 

You had filled your quota of blood and death. And you had already seen the footage of Soldier Boy blasting a tower full of people in New York with the nuclear power now housed in his chest. 

You also knew what he did to M.M.’s family. But after watching several minutes of Soldier Boy's torture, hearing his struggle, his outbursts of rage, the ragged gasps for breath, the clawing, traumatized sounds...

It was like stereo between your ears, and it was...too familiar. Too much.

So you finally turned it off, closing your laptop with an unsettled breath of your own. 

And you were unable to sleep that night.

When you all finally arrived in Colombia, you and the team surveyed the wreckage in the casino.

It was a fucking blood bath.

As you stepped carefully through the wreckage of bodies and gambling chips, you looked for clues. Anything that might tell you about what Soldier Boy was doing here (though you could guess), and however unlikely, where he might go next. 

You were disheartened to find the body of a young woman. Her big blue eyes were vacant, her blonde hair caked with blood from a head shot. On further inspection, you found a small room key in her hand. 

With a sigh and a gloved hand, you took the key. You also closed the girl’s eyes. 

You kept looking while the others had fanned out in the opposite direction. When you came across a small table that wasn’t turned over or splintered into fragments, you raised a brow. There was a napkin pinned to the top with a steak knife. 

You yanked it out and examined the flimsy napkin. Noticing that you’d found something, Butcher came over to your side. He was much taller than you, fairly looming over your shoulder. You angled the note toward him. 

Try harder.

S.B.

It was more than just a taunt. 

It was the beginning of a game. And it made you smile. 

“What the hell’re you smiling about?” Butcher asked. 

“I like it when they’re cocky,” you replied. Butcher shot you a sideways glance, one that said you were maybe more deranged than even him.

“All supes are cocky bastards.”

You eyed him with a teasing grin. “On that, we actually agree.”

True to Grace’s word, she provided you all with the full extent of the CIA’s resources. While Butcher tracked down the hotel of the room key you found, you and M.M. were able to tap into any and all local street cameras and map out the likely points Soldier Boy had hit in this city—and where he could be going next.  

According to the hotel manager, Soldier Boy had paid for a month’s stay, but hadn’t checked out after coming back for some of his belongings. The security cameras had caught him leaving his hotel room with a few men—armed ex-military types, and possibly his new entourage. 

But the trail ended there. 

Over the next two months, Soldier Boy continued to be one step ahead of you in the chase. 

Though his movements were calculated (disappearing like a coil of smoke whenever you caught his scent), he seemed to be taking an extended vacation surrounding strip clubs, casinos, and other likely destinations for sex, drugs, and money. 

And he’d evaded capture after hitting at least three banks on his way out of the U.S. alone.

At the current crap motel of the week, you shared the couch with Kimiko and Hughie while you surveyed traffic cameras.

“What’s the likelihood that he’s even still in Colombia? In South America, even?” Hughie asked. It was a good goddamn question.

“We have agents covering every major port and air hanger,” M.M. said. “If he wants to escape the continent, he’s gonna have to fight his way out, or rent a dingy and float his motherfuckin’ ass across the Atlantic.” 

“I wouldn’t put anything past him,” you remarked. “What connections does he have?”

It wasn’t the first time you’d asked that question, but it was the first time you got a straightforward answer. 

“Who knows,” said M.M. “He’s an ancient fuck.”

“Who killed all his old friends,” Hughie supplied.

“Well, his team, to be fair. I don’t think he ever had friends,” Annie said. “...Plus his old girlfriend.”

“What a spectacular bonfire that was,” Butcher dryly quipped. 

Nice, you thought, heavy on the sarcasm. 

You sighed. Clearly, you all would have to be prepared for anything.

When you weren’t pouring through surveillance, you took to the streets with Annie, playing the part of American tourists. 

“Soldier Boy don’t know who the fuck you are,” Butcher had reasoned. He’d then pointed at Annie.

“Her fame as Starlight can get you two into whatever bar, club, or fuckhole that might’ve let him in. She’ll park it at a table, attracting attention. Meanwhile, you’ll circle around and look for him.”

It was actually a sound plan, and you could be a decent actor yourself. This wasn’t the first time you’d adopted a role to find your target, and on this mission, it probably wouldn’t be the last.    

Well, a week later, the plan worked. You and Annie encountered a woman at a bar who waited tables at a nearby club, in Medellin. She’d served Soldier Boy just last night. 

Medellin was considered the party city of Colombia, and for good reason. 

Butcher had cleverly found your “disguise” for tonight, though you hadn’t liked the smirk on his bearded face when he gave you the shopping bag. 

It turned out to be a semi-legal black leather dress, along with thigh-high boots possessing a sharp heel. Annie’s dress was just as short, and gold. With her blonde hair and shimmering makeup contrasting your black dress and smokey makeup, the two of you looked like night and day. Light and dark. 

While Hughie manned surveillance in a rented van, parked outside the club, the rest of the team had found strategic points to cover in the club: M.M. was at the bar. Frenchie and Kimiko had found a table to watch the area in front of the stage, while Butcher was somewhere clinging to the shadows. 

You followed Annie into the club. Once they’d recognized her as Starlight, they’d let her right in, and you by association. You didn’t envy her fame, but you could admit, it had some perks.

Inside, the club was dark and loud, and packed with people and streams of colorful light bouncing off the walls. This isn’t going to be easy. 

Both of you scoped the area subtly before joining M.M. at the bar. 

Well, you two found your own opening further down. Sitting next to him would be too obvious.   

You subtly pressed a finger to the communicator in your ear while Annie ordered drinks. 

“It’s gonna be hard to find my own ass in here,” you said to the team. You scanned the place and noticed an entire second and third floor. “This place is huge.” 

“Then get crackin’, love,” Butcher’s voice reached you. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, but you did take the vodka martini Annie offered you. 

“Ah, you beat me to it,” a man said, his richly accented voice hovering near your ear. You turned your head and had to lean back a bit. You were met with blue eyes, tan skin, and an attractive smile. The man tipped an imaginary hat, letting his shoulder-length dark hair dip into his eyes. 

“Good evening, mi vida,” he said. “I was gonna buy you a drink, but I see you’ve got one. Mind if I finish my beer with you?”

Inwardly you wanted to sigh, but you gave a flirtatious smile to keep up appearances. “Sure.”

“Where are you from?” he asked, and with a more teasing smile. “I’m having a hard time placing your accent.” 

You affected a giggle. “Oh, really? You mean I don’t have a massive, neon sign over my head that says, ‘American Tourist?’”

“Well, maybe not neon,” he joked. “I’m Antonio.”

“I’m Jess,” you lied, shaking his hand. He turned it over and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. Annie raised a brow behind you, but she sipped her drink.

Antonio must’ve been a local. His dark blue buttoned-down shirt, jeans, and boots were more casual than the obvious tourists with their flashing finery. And by his accent, you could guess that he was at least Latino. Colombian, most likely.

You were able to subtly dodge the question of exactly where you were from. And the two of you flirted for a few minutes while you continued to survey the people passing by, scanning the gaps between bodies.

When Antonio finally asked you to dance, you agreed. It would get you further into the club with a better excuse than walking around aimlessly. You turned to Annie.

“Catch you later?” you asked. She tossed you a wink.

“Yeah, girl. Have fun!”

You smiled and let Antonio lead you to the dance floor. You discreetly used every movement to your advantage, looking beyond your dancing partner to continue your search. If Soldier Boy was here, you would find him.

“He’s not here,” said Antonio. It actually managed to jerk you out of your focus.

“Who?” you asked, feigning confusion.

“Whoever you’re looking for that isn’t me,” he said, injecting a fair bit of charm into his voice. 

You actually felt your face warming up at that. The way he was looking at you now, there was very little doubt as to what he wanted. His grip on your hips tightened. 

Part of you was getting impatient with this part of the game, but at the very least, he was a good dancer. He pulled you effortlessly through the cumbia, Colombian salsa dancing, even if he was starting to sweat on you. 

Now, you could almost swear someone was watching. Though it might’ve been the sweat dripping down your spine, you felt that strange prickle on the back of your neck.

Well, besides Annie. You knew she was keeping an eye on you from the bar, as were Frenchie and Kimiko as they joined a poker game in the far corner, away from the dance floor.

Your gaze continued to flit through every corner of the room between spins and the movements of your feet and your hips. 

When Antonio’s hands started get a bit too familiar with the curve of your ass, you took his hands and used them to spin yourself. He brought you back in tight. A bit too tight.

“Come on, baby…” he whispered in your ear.

And you felt his hand slide up the inside of your thigh. He even had the audacity to try and slip past the lacey front of your underwear.

That’s when your patience snapped. 

You grabbed his wrist and “accidentally” drove your heel into his foot. With precision you felt it land between two vertebrae. 

The girlish yelp he made brought a flicker of a smile to your lips, but you covered it with a doe-eyed look and many bumbling apologies. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

He all but shoved you as he limped away, cursing you in Spanish. You’d taken four years of it in high school, and you still only caught half of it.  

Hiding your smile, you walked away and pressed a discreet finger to the comm in your ear. 

“The stage front is clear. Scoping the back.”

“Wait for me,” Annie said. She was still sitting at the bar. “I think you broke that guy’s foot.”

“He had tenacity,” Frenchie remarked.

“All balls and no brains, as usual,” you muttered. “Stay there and look shiny, Annie. He’s less likely to recognize me, but he might come out to play if he spots a familiar face at the bar.”

“She’s right,” Butcher said to Annie. “Stay where you are.”    

You made your way to the bathroom and scoped the hall. There in the privacy of the shadows, you adjusted the gun holster on your thigh. It was a miracle Antonio hadn’t felt it. 

Not that a gun would do much against Soldier Boy, but you didn’t feel right without it. 

Then you kept moving and dodged various couples making out (and more) on your way upstairs.

“Going up,” you informed the team quietly. The second floor was a series of rooms, none of which you wanted to pop in on without an invitation.

After you made it to the end of the hall, you turned a corner and noticed a door hung open a crack. Sliding it open, you found a wall of music there to greet you.

And that wasn’t all.

Inside was a room of people drinking and drugging and generally doing things to one another. You didn’t want to go in, but you wouldn’t put it past Soldier Boy to get caught up in a mass orgy. 

You walked through the room, only taking in what you needed to with your eyes. 

Focusing on the far wall, you saw a leather chair by the window, with a still smoking cigar laid to rest in an ash tray on a small table. Your head tilting with interest, you went over to the table and found another hand-written note. 

Once again, you sighed. “He’s not here, guys. He bounced.”

Once you all regrouped with Hughie outside the club, you handed the note to Butcher with a grimace.

“You have a love letter,” you said. And Hughie too.

With a wry brow raise, Butcher looked down at the scrap of paper.

Butcher, you’ll die first. Then the cum-guzzler. 

S.B.

That night at the hotel, after you'd showered and peeled off that ridiculous dress, you poured over the Soldier Boy files again.

You hadn’t touched the Russia ones since that first night, but you knew you were missing far too much. In order to anticipate his moves, you needed to understand how he thought.

You couldn’t do that if you didn’t even have the full picture of who he was. And the movies, the silly music videos, even the exploded skyscraper and Homelander’s death—none of it told the full story of Ben. 

It didn’t tell you what he wanted. What he cared about. Why he was playing cat and mouse instead of just taking his stand, like his soldier persona would’ve demanded of his pride.

Or maybe that pride's just like everything else: a well-crafted costume.

A knock at your door jolted you out of your thoughts. 

You got up to your feet, briefly looking down to make sure you were decently dressed (you supposed pajama shorts, a bra, and a tank top would suffice). You grabbed your gun and checked the peephole before you answered the door with a smile.

It was M.M. with a mug of tea for you. “I knew you’d still be up, killin’ those files. It’s almost morning, you know.”

You accepted the mug with a warmer smile.  

“Aw, you do care,” you quipped. He rolled his eyes. 

You laughed a little. “Seriously, thank you.”

He pointed at you.

“Go to sleep,” he said. You raised two fingers to your temple in salute. 

“Sir. Yes, sir!” you joked. Really, you appreciated his concern. After hearing many a story about his daughter Jennine, and seeing how the rest of the team respected him, you knew that he was a good man. 

And thanks to him and Annie, you were actually starting to feel like part of this team.

After you wished him goodnight (or good morning, at this rate), you closed the door to your hotel room, followed closely by your laptop. 

You took out your phone, silently contemplating what time it would be in New York right now.

Well, it would be very early in the morning. Still, you thought it was worth a try, since you had the time.

You dialed your sister, Luisa. While it rang, you remembered just how thin these hotel walls were. So you stepped out to the rickety balcony. Jeez, hope it holds my weight throughout this call.

When your sister eventually answered, she murmured your name sleepily in confusion.

“Hey, sorry for waking you up,” you said, feeling bad. 

“It’s okay.” She yawned. “I should be up soon anyway. Got 8 am classes Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

“Ech. Screw that shit,” you teased. 

“You’re the one sweating balls in South America.”

“I’d rather be drowning in my own sweat than listening to some old bag drone on for eight hours,” you volleyed back, and leaned against the balcony’s railing, even as it creaked suspiciously with your weight. 

“You, my friend, are uninspired. You mean to tell me mosquitoes and drug cartels are better than Mozart?” your sister asked incredulously. Her sleepy voice was starting to lose some of its gravel as you two fell into familiar bickering. 

“Wow, way to type cast. Not all of South America is about drug-running,” you pointed out. 

“Aren’t there, like, entire shows about people shoving cocaine up their ass to get from Colombia to Miami?” Luisa asked. 

“…Yes, but that’s not the point,” you said with a giggle. “And good guess. I’m actually in Medellin right now.”

“Are you supposed to tell me that?”

“Not really, no, but I don’t think you’ll sell me out to the cartels,” you joked. Or to the Russians, your mind added. That thought made your lips twist sourly. 

“Anyway, are you okay? How’s school, really?”

“It’s good, sis. You know I’m good. I’m worried about you,” she countered, and you could hear the concern in her voice.

“You know me. I’m always good,” you replied with good humor. The silence on the other line told you that you hadn’t been quite convincing enough. 

“When do you think you’ll come home?” she asked.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that night (or morning), you sighed. “That’s hard to say.”

The answering silence told you even more about your sister’s thoughts, and you felt guilty for it. 

“I’m happy just knowing you’re doing so well. With school, starting your adult life, doing your thing,” you added.  

“You need to start thinking about yourself,” she told you.

“What do you mean, Lou? I’m fine.”

It was Louisa’s turn to sigh.

“You know, I was so proud of you when you decided to leave Vought," she said. "When you finally got out from under Dad. When you started working at Supe Affairs…you seemed happy, like you were finally proud of yourself too.”

Emotion started to burn behind your eyes. Part of it was probably sleep deprivation, but you heard the sincerity in your sister’s voice.

She just knew you so well. And she wasn’t lying there—what she’d said was all true of you. However, after the joke that was Victoria Neuman running Supe Affairs, you didn’t know what you could trust anymore. 

Maybe not even your own judgment. 

“But I really wish that you’d consider more than just your work,” Luisa said. “Like a hobby. Take a painting class. Go to karaoke, like we used to do in grade school after Choir practice. You have such a beautiful voice! Like Grandma’s was.”

“I’ll leave the performing to you, Lou,” you said with a chuckle. She was serious, however.

“Work isn’t everything,” she reminded you. Now her voice was firm. “You should go out with your friends. Go out with Annie! Rub shoulders with her celebrity friends.”  

“Right.” You huffed a laugh. You’d been around plenty of famous supes while at Vought. You’d ran down the leads and tracked down the criminals, just for the supes to swoop in and “save the day.” You did the grunt work, and they claimed the credit. 

You’d had enough of “celebrities” to last you a lifetime. 

“Maybe then you’ll—and let me not shock you here—meet someone,” Louisa said. “And finally put an end to that goddamn dry spell. What's it been, like three years?” 

“All right, all right.” You held up a hand of surrender, even if she couldn’t see it. You were grateful she couldn’t catch you blushing. “That’s enough about my non-life, thanks.” 

You shook your head. Embarrassment actually clawed inside your belly. 

Yes, it had been a while since you’d actually been with anyone, relationship or otherwise. You just didn’t have time to have a life, you’d reasoned. Working at Vought had been grueling, and your hours at the S.A., while better, were still demanding.

…Still, you could appreciate that your work-life balance left much to be desired. And that was on you. 

Case in point, you were on this job.

You tipped your face heavenward, letting the sunrise spill some warmth on your face. 

“But…I hear you, okay?” you replied with your eyes closed. 

“You do?” she asked suspiciously.

“Yeah. When I get back, I…I’ll work on it, okay?” you said. “I love you.”

“Love you too, sis. I should probably get going, but…please be safe.”

“Always,” you promised.

After you hung up, you finally opened your eyes. 

That prickly feeling was back, almost like you were being watched.

You scanned around, but your human eyes didn’t find anything out of the ordinary in the sunshine pouring in between the rows of buildings. 

In fact, you didn’t see a damn thing that wasn’t supposed to be there.

So you clutched your phone to your chest, letting out a deep breath. Then you headed back inside.

But mere feet above you, if you had only looked up to the roof, you would’ve seen a hunter lazily eyeing his prey.

AN: Ok! So a little bit slow in this chapter, but it’s all important setup.

In the next chapter, the reader meets Soldier Boy:

You laid a hand on his chest, fingers spreading between the open buttons, and felt his warm skin. 

He glanced up at you with another challenging tilt to his head. What are you gonna do now?

You met that challenge, boldly leaning down to press a kiss against his lips.

Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @pallographsunspot @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @syrma-sensei @muhahaha303 @123passwort @xoxovienna @magnificentnightmarehadi @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @yvonneeeee @fckinel

[softrozene]

There For You

Anonymous requested: Nice to see your taking requests again! I actually got into your aizawa inspired story recently and it is was so nice to see you bringing awareness to abuse in many forms. 🥺 It hit close to home. So I was wondering if I could get a platonic headcanons or scenarios of aizawa touya and hawks x fem reader? Just comfort/platonic feels of these men helping their friend (y/n) get back into routing after being sexually abused by someone close to them. I hope that's okay! If not don't worry about! thank you for your time! 🥺💞

m.m

Hey anon, first off, I apologize that this took so long. I had to make sure that it was up to my standards of the perfect comfort for the topic. Thank you for trusting me with it and I am so happy that my story is bringing awareness. Sad to hear it hit close to home though : ( I hope you are feeling much better! Enjoy lovely!

Aizawa, Dabi (Touya), and Hawks x Female Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Brief mentions of reader having gone through .sexual. abuse, PTSD, angst, mainly comfort, since dabi is a villain of course his will have a “hint” of murder toward the culprit, platonic friends trying to help reader out and:

*This is a completely serious topic and under no circumstances do I mean to romanticize the issue. Having gone through something similar this is meant for comfort to the anon and those who have also gone through something like this. Please know that you are so worthy and valid of love. You are also worthy of reaching out for help and getting it. Please do not let anyone else tell you otherwise.

Words: ~1,8k

-

Aizawa Shouta:

Bonus headcanon really quick: Know for a fact that Aizawa would be the perfect friend in the situation. Since he is a pro hero and one that has a good sense of situations and what people have gone through, he would deal with this with the utmost delicacy. He will have your back constantly and make sure you know that you are valid no matter what that person did to you. He makes sure you know that and that you can talk to him at ANY time. Will also personally make sure that the person gets locked up for life and if not, he does believe in accidents for the better good if you catch my drift. Now on to the scenario.

This man has known that something has been going on with you for a while. Just the way you have been withdrawn more than recently has him worried. He does let you know that you can talk to him whenever and he would not judge you for anything, and of course, he is not surprised when you do not take up his offer. He has suspicions that it is something serious though so he may push on some days or back off completely on other days.

It is not until you break down crying and telling him what has happened and that the person who harmed you did some serious damage to you, does he get it. You were not only physically hurt, but you were emotionally and mentally hurt. Hearing this and finally understanding the severity of the situation… It was someone close to you. Someone you trusted.

It also makes sense to him why you waited to tell him. Women experiencing sexual abuse from someone they trusted… Well, it could be hard in general to bring it up to anyone, but you bringing it up to their hero male friend? He can imagine how nerve-wracking it could be. Imagine… and not know your true fear.

That alone doubles his anger in the situation. Aizawa however, is a rather calm man and you need it more than ever, so he lets you cry it all out and tell him everything. He lets you calm down as well before he goes over your options. He sets out on helping you get justice while being as cool-headed as possible.

Once all is done and said and the process of getting what you needed, that person paying for their crime, is when he goes beyond for you and makes sure you do not spiral into the bottomless pit that trauma can be and that most victims do fall too. He understands that it will be there, and you will have PTSD from it, but he will be there to be your rock.

He will validate all your feelings – especially the negative ones, promising you that they are all normal. He does give you a good amount of time to recover emotionally from everything before he gently ushers you back into your normal routine. There he knows, might be the most difficult part and he is patient for you. He lets you have space if you need it, reassurance when you need it, just everything to know that you are just as worthy as before it happened.

He helps you ease back into your everyday life and routine by joining you. He does not hover but is simply there just in case you need someone. Just a simple way of letting you know that he is there for you and will help you through this.

 Dabi (Todoroki Touya):

Bonus Headcanon: Okayyyy so let’s be honest here for a moment… Dabi is a villain and one with serious emotional apathy issues… So I imagine him hearing about this with someone he genuinely cares about would result in hurting that person that hurt them. Aka possible or definite murder. So, beware of that. Lol I think Dabi is neat. Anyway, because of his personal issues, if he has formed a connection with someone, he will take their issues very seriously as well. It is only right especially if they have done the same, he will also not back down on wanting to know what is up with them which leads us to the scenario.

The second Dabi set his eyes on you, he knew something was up. You, his best friend, were not the same bright woman who was almost always happy to see him. In fact… You may have forced a chirpy greeting to him, but he can see the nerves in you going crazy.

You are on edge, and since you have been such a good friend to him and vice versa, he does not like that. He has always made it clear you never have to be on edge around him. So he asks you immediately what the hell is wrong. No filter and with a serious gaze. It is that simple question that makes you spill. Especially since you know that he is a rather stubborn individual. So you tell him everything, on how someone you trusted and cared for has taken advantage of you. You don’t necessarily have to share all the details that make you sick to your stomach, because he gets the gist of it rather fast.

You can feel the heat from his quirk wanting to come out and fast. However, you are more surprised when he pulls you into a hug. Dabi does not hug people, so this is huge to you. You may feel bad, but you were honestly expecting him to tease you or say something vulgar but no, he is treating this seriously and that makes you feel a lot better.

After he makes sure that you are okay here and now, the first thing out of his mouth is asking who the hell did and where are they. Whether you tell him or not, he will find out who did that to you and where they are and with his connections with the League of Villains, he will hunt them down.

He may be a tad overprotective depending on how you are with handling this trauma. He does not leave your side, knowing himself how trauma can be. However, he does not push you to do your immediate routine. No, he is the one that lets you linger in bed all day if that is how you need to cope. He will just stick with you and make sure you get food in your stomach and stay hydrated.

He will turn into a huge couch potato and even watch the most feminine movies with you if that will make you feel better.

When you are ready to go back into your daily routine, he will be happy about it. Happy to know that you are feeling better enough to do the things you love to do or just your daily life. He is very encouraging and will hold back on any of his usual teasings until you initiate it. When he deems you fine, he will return to be the carefree Dabi and be less protective.

However, he does make sure that you are in terms of an A+ on your self-defense.

What he will not do while he is with you, is ask about what happened. He will let you talk on your own terms and will not push to know the details. He is more about avoidance if that is your way to go. Your trauma is yours, but he is there for you if you need it.

 Hawks (Takami Keigo):

Bonus Headcanon: Honestly, I think Keigo would be the one who wouldn’t suspect anything ONLY because of how busy his hero life is. He is very smart though, so he could figure it out fast and once he does, I imagine him acting in two ways: guilt for not knowing that his friend got hurt in a bad way, or being overprotective and trying to make up for it, possibly overbearing as well as justice-seeking for them.

“Hey, promise me you are okay?” Keigo asks giving puppy dog eyes to his best friend.

You smile. It reaches your eyes and he knows you mean it. “I promise I am okay as can be. Honestly, lately, I feel like you are the one that is not okay,” You admit.

Keigo flinches at this before nodding his head. He has been staying with you ever since he found out someone you trusted and cared for taking advantage of you. He seethed at first, demanding to find the person responsible and delivering his own personal justice if the commission would allow him until he remembered that it isn’t about what he wanted to do for you. It was about you and how you wanted to go on about your path for healing.

So, he did take a quick turn to just staying near you and always having his cellphone on when he was out doing hero work. He may be the Number Two hero know, but he has been trying to prioritize your friendship. With his workload, he tends to miss a lot, especially with how much work the commission gives him and expects of him which is why he has been acting out and asking if you are okay every so often.

You squeeze his hand, and he finally admits his guilt to you. “I am fine. I just feel awful that you couldn’t come tell me sooner. I would have dropped everything if you wanted to tell me. I-“

“That is exactly why I didn’t. You are a hero and a good one-“

“What hero can’t even protect his friends?” He asks a bit gloomy.

It is a new look on him. One you did not enjoy seeing so you smile. “Hey. I purposely didn’t tell you and it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you or anything. I do trust you. You are my best friend. It was my fault for not telling someone-“

“Do not ever blame yourself for what that scumbag did,” He states seriously.

You nod and continue, “What I mean to say is, you should not feel guilty either. It happened and it is in the past now. I am just grateful I have such a caring friend as you. You are really helping me know that I am loved and valued.”

Hearing that, he smiles and looks better. Your words do ring true as he recalls how the past few weeks of you telling him went. How he did find out who did it and what he has his fellow heroes do to make sure you got justice while he helped you. You were stuck in your home, living through nightmares, reliving that traumatic experience and he hated seeing you wake up crying. He used his past hero training to help you begin the healing process and now, he can see it is really paying off.

You have slowly started to go back to your daily life and though there have been some hiccups in that, it is progress, and he tells you even the smallest amount of progress is good for you. He is glad he could be there for you and help you heal because as his friend, you only deserve the best.

[alisarb]

the nature of frenchie and kimiko’s relationship

in every frenchie-kimiko video about their relationship there’s always someone commenting how much they ship it and there’s always someone else pointing out that their relationship in the comics is like father and daughter

so, being the obsessive shipper that I am and weirdly overthinking everything about a tv show because i can’t enjoy things like normal people, i decided to write this post to defend why I think their relationship in the show (and even a bit in the comics) is anything BUT paternal, and why their relationship in tv vs. comics is so different

(please bear in mind this is my opinion and in no way i wanna force ships onto anyone, you’re free to interpret stories and ship characters however you want!!)

Okay, the first thing we learn about frenchie in the show is that he is a man of many skills: in his own words, a gunrunner by trade, but with a very particular niche. we also learn he used to be a hitman, probably, and then he talks about his victims like scars he has to carry forever. he’s the first character apart from hughie that expresses some kind of remorse in the show about killing someone up until that point in the show (and i know it’s only the second episode, but by then we’d already seen quite enough violence)

he’s a layered character from the beginning, going from what looks like a man who likes his pills way too much and who seems dangerous to someone who actually has more to offer. still, he has other personality traits that differentiate him from the rest: frenchie describes himself as a womanizer in a conversation with m.m, who he mocks for being in a loving relationship with his wife. he “goes to sleep every night next to someone different.” we’ve met cherie by then but we can assume they are not really in a relationship by this statement, more like a casual lovers situation

and then, like a joke from fate, he meets kimiko. and from the very beginning they form a connection like no other. one can argue that their earlier interactions are kinda sweet and tender and not romantic at all, but from what i see, they share the kind of intimacy that most tv couples wish they could convey without even touching. their chemistry is undeniable 

on top of that, as their relationship progresses, kimiko begins to return the affection. she goes from this killing machine that can’t stand to be touched to initiate contact with (and only) frenchie, because he’s her source of comfort and reassuring. at mesmer’s, kimiko looks at him because he’s the only person that she can trust and the first one to show her kindness in who knows how long

the rest of the group is understandably wary of kimiko, as she has proved to brutal and ruthless. frenchie is the only one who understands her, and that’s why he frees her that first time: to give her a choice 

in exchange, when they are at mesmer’s,he asks her to show them what he sees, and she complies. because she doesn’t trust the rest yet, but she trusts frenchie. and even with that first vision he doesn’t doubt for a second that she can’t be just a terrorist. so kimiko shares with them and relives her trauma: the murder of her parents, being removed from her home and sent to a camp with her brother, being forced to become a soldier, being injected with compound v and becoming a supe with a talent for mass murder just to be locked in a cage like an animal... 

the look they share after that revelation is anything but platonic and/or paternal:

LOOK AT MM AND BUTCHER. BUTCHER IS LIKE WTF AND M.M SHRUGGED LIKE “NOTHING TO BE DONE HE’S IN LOVE YOUR HONOR”

sorry about the excitement this scene makes me wanna squeal with delight

shortly after, kimiko is watching shark week again and frenchie comes up to her to talk about vought and how they’re hurting people like they hurt her, how she could help them stop it. at first kimiko keeps staring at the TV and looks defensive, but the moment he says: “it’s your choice, if you wanna go back and look for your brother i’ll take you to the airport” she looks at him, surprised. 

because he keeps giving her a choice, which is the core of their relatiionship

and, as another user pointed out in a post a while ago, if you watched the show with the captions on (as i did bc english is not my native language) as she holds his hand, you can hear and read that shark week talks about mating and how if a female shark returns the male’s feelings will make some sort of move. one could think that this was accidental but c’mon, this show doesn’t leave anything a coincidence 

it’s clear from the beginning that frenchie is completely smitten with her. in fact, we see small glimpses of him literally OBSESSING over her from the beginning: he meets with cherie to get the gas to sedate kimiko and we learn he hasn’t been with her in a while. i’m sure he was plenty busy with the whole vought + kimiko situation, but at that point they were all living separately and they returned to their places even if it was less frequently than usual (and cherie seemed to spend a lot of time in his place, if not even living there)

he cooks for her when she’s chained and then later on he teaches her HOW TO BAKE my heart 

I could keep listing every moment when Frenchie looks at Kimiko (because his eyes inevitably follow her at any scene) or how the rest of The Boys is so aware of what they are (”you’re dating a terrorist”/”your crazy ass girlfriend”), and (SPOILERS SEASON 2 STOP READING FOR A SECOND) in the s2 we see how Frenchie is dog tired, probably angry and frustrated, and his face automatically changes when Kimiko goes to show him the origami piece. He smiles sweetly because she makes him happy, and amidst all the chaos they are going through one of his main worries is still Kimiko and how to understand and communicate with her.

END OF SPOILRS SEASON 2 

One of the last moments is in the finale, when Kimiko is finally pulling herself back together after years of abuse and mistreatment by brushing her hair, wearing pretty clothes or painting her nails. Simple acts that make her feel like she’s a person. When she comes out of the bathroom, he looks at her with pure AWE. He even says “look at you, mon coeur”, because it’s like she’s the prettiest thing he’s seen. When the gas comes into the room he pushes her into the bathroom first thing. 

M.M’s face at the end when they’re surrounded and he sees Frenchie hitting his head against the wall because even though he’s been shot he only wants to go get Kimiko, I think it says everything. His face when he talks about Kimiko and how she made him a better person. The way he pulled the hair out of her face. 

I really love how everything is coming together this new season, so now I’d like to address the main issue of this post: the nature of their relationship and how it’s nothing like the comics. 

There’s a very basic reason to why I believe their relationship is romantic, and not only by the actors’ interactions in Instagram, or the way Amazon promotes their relationship, but because the comics are so different from the tv show. 

Every character’s background story is changed, and so are their motivations, personalities and, as far as we’ve seen, their storylines. In the show they’ve made it pretty clear that Kimiko and Frenchie share a connection that resembles that of a soulmate. 

And even in the comics, (spoiler) when they’re about to die, Frenchie turns around and tells her that he’s loved her since the beginning. I don’t think that’s very father-like. 

In conclusion, it’s likely that they’ll make us wait for a long time before we get more romantic interaction (especially since Kimiko is growing as a character and that might mean she might need to grow on her own, which I think is great), but it’s been clear since the beginning that they are meant to be. I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL 

[anunvalidcritic]

The Boys: SN1.8

(DISCLAIMER: MY OPINION IS MY OWN AND CAN BE DEEMED INVALID TO THOSE WHO DON’T CARE FOR IT.)

This is the last episodes my dude and I’m so ready for it. 

                                          YOU FOUND ME

“Howdy boys! Ohh oh sorry sorry.“ - HOMELANDER

“And remember you guys are the real heroes.“ - HOMELANDER

DANNNGGG THIS DUDE IS FUCKING EVERYBODY UP!!!!

He honestly didn’t have to kill him like that...

Oh you missed o... nvm

Conversation:

“How did they get the formula?” - SENATOR

“Honestly we have no idea“ - STILLWELL

THE FUCKING LIES THIS WOMAN TELLS!

I swear STILLWELL will reap what she sows

WANTED MEN

KIMIKO beautifying herself is the sweetest thing

FRENCHIE & MOTHER’s MILK said PEACE THE FUCK OUT!!

STARLIGHT lookin’ at that pipe like she already knows she’s about to yell.  

“You’re not a freak!” - ANNIE’s MOM

She low key sounded like Jessie from Toy Story

“So I’m the monster?“ - ANNIE’s MOM >insert meme<

THE DEEP really thinks that he’s going back DEAD

So whose house did they just roll up to?

Well hello there MALLORY

KIMIKO IS LOOKIN’ CUTE OR WHATEVA!!!!

the thud must’ve been his shoe ig??...

RUN BITCH RUN!!!

Awwhhh shit they got her.

“Fucked up your nails huh?“ - MY MOM

Damn MALLORY thank you for that everlasting image of your grandchildren being burned. 

why tf is Paul Blart following A-TRAIN

“You ain’t fast no more now bitch. She broke that motherfucking leg.“ - MY MOM

“What are you all fucking looking at?!“ - A-TRAIN

Another argument between HUGHIE and BUTCHER

“You’re a fucking pathetic cunt.“ - BUTCHER

BUTCHER went skkrrt skkrrtt in that car. 

everybody hurts sometimes

Conversation:

“You’ve got a lot of balls.“ - STARLIGHT

“I only have two.” - HUGHIE

"You have 30 seconds to get the hell out of here?” - STARLIGHT

He dead ass started walking back towards her when the 30 seconds were up. 

THAT IS NOT A CON

A-TRAIN really out here pulling a fucking train with that broke as leg HA

“Bet you can’t outrun this“ - NATHAN

In that slow ass car lol... that car went skkrrt skkrrt too dead

As soon as HOMELANDER saw STILLWELL he was like I got this bitch 

“Start thinking about the view from 82.” - EDGAR

she’s all happy now

Here goes QUEEN MAEVE with her so-called sympathetic apology and truths

HOMELANDER = THIS DUDE IS NOT ONLY TRYING TO FUCK UP OTHER COUNTRIES BUT THE REST OF THE WORLD!!!

FRENCHIE + MOTHER’s MILK = OTP

STILLWELL & HOMELANDER having a little heart to heart at the moment. 

why tf is he lookin’ like that while she’s talkin’ about the trauma of having a miscarriage?

LOL M.M. and FRENCHIE lookin’ at HUGHIE like you just done some really dumb shit but we still love you. 

HUGHIE = Smart thinker

BUTCHER sittin’ in that car like a theft in the night lookin’ for some fucking answers. 

FRENCHIE >> looking for “Mon Couer”

You really do learn something new every day. 

OH, SHIT STARLIGHT UP IN THIS BITCH!!!

savin’ lives and shit

A-TRAIN v/s STARLIGHT

Is this dude having a heart attack or something??

Well, he’s down for the count. 

DAAAMMMNNN BUTCHER HE DIDN’T HAVE TO PUT ALL THAT C-4 SHIT!!

HOMELANDER ain’t shit!

“She came 3 times.“ - HOMELANDER

If she was with him for 3 hours did she cum each time???

“You are dark and I kinda like it.“ - HOMELANDER

Oh TEDDY is going upstair alright lol.... oh shit too soon... sorry

WHat Yhe FUCK!!!!! THIS DUDE!!!! HER FUCKIN” SKULLLL

BUTCHER REALLY LET THAT TRIGGER GO

RIP TEDDY (I’m assuming the little dude is dead)

PLOT TWIST MOTHER FUCKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

--------

This season was spectacular and I can’t wait for season two! I truly loved the plot twist at the end. I knew something was up when he didn’t take that fucking baby upstairs. 

[zeeman960]

Body Building Muscle Soreness

Body Building Muscle Soreness

Muscle soreness is something that every Coaching trainer has experienced. The typical advice is to wait until you’re not sore to train that muscle again. But what if you can actually get better results by training when sore!

It’s safe to mention that muscle soreness are a few things each trainer has intimate at some purpose in their career. Severity of muscle soreness (known as Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness or DOMS for short) will vary from gentle discomfort after you move to the purpose of being virtually incapacitating.

One of the most frequent questions asked is should you train when your muscles are still sore? The answer is not quite as simple as some people make it out to be, though. Many coaching trainers will tell you if the muscle is still sore, don’t train it, and, in truth for many people that’s the safest answer.

The Fact is by not training when you’re sore, you could actually be missing out on results and slowing down your recovery!

So What Is Muscle Soreness?

Muscle soreness is basically damage to the muscle fibers as a result of training. Without going into great detail on how it happens and how the recovery process occurs (which is beyond the scope of this article), muscle soreness is your body telling you that it’s in need of repair.

Getting really sore after lifting weights doesn’t necessarily mean that you had a good workout that will lead to gains.

You can stimulate muscle growth without experiencing extreme soreness. That said, you should feel something after a tough workout.

Most people experience more soreness when dieting, but that doesn’t mean they’re gaining more muscle. To reduce soreness and build/retain muscle optimally when dieting, reduce calories for most of the day but increase your pre, intra and post-workout nutrition.

In Alternative Words

The commonly accepted theory is that after you weight train you cause micro-trauma to the target muscles, that is actually associate injury and so ends up in inflammation and pain/tenderness. ways which will cause the foremost muscle trauma – accentuated eccentrics, shock absorption, handling terribly difficult hundreds for many tries – can cause the foremost soreness.

Basically, when you’re stimulating a muscle enough or with the proper form of stress, your body will make it stronger and faster. Inflicting damage via heavy lifting is an obvious way to do that, but it’s not necessarily the only way.

Low Intensity Cardio

These days anything less than full-intensity cardio gets looked upon with disdain, but the truth is that low-intensity, steady-state cardio can have a dramatic effect on muscle recovery. It may not get you as ripped as sprinting will, but it still offers a laundry list of benefits including increased blood flow, nutrient delivery, waste removal, lymphatic flow, and improved muscle function following hard and degenerative workouts. Low-intensity work can help dissipate soreness from strength training, increase range of motion, and wake up your nervous system to allow for better workouts later on.

Most people see the simplest edges of low-intensity cardio by keeping their pulse rate below a hundred and twenty M.M.. Keep these workouts to half-hour liquid ecstasy so as to run away recent and not drained. In the gym, treadmills and bikes appear to supply the simplest edges, however a brisk walk or hike outdoors is additionally a good possibility.

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Body Building Muscle Soreness was originally published on LeFit Fitness

[zepskies]

Oooh yeah, we're delving right into the action with this one!

And thank you so much for your amazing review!! It made my night when I got to read your lovely thoughts on Part 1. 💓💓

(More comments on your comments below the cut):

I like how this part was more focused on setting the building blocks up for the rest of the angst, it was quick but not in a jarring way. It felt more concise and well put together while getting the story moving.

I'm so glad to hear that, thank you! I was very conscious of the pacing of this, to maintain a sense of urgency after she's taken. In a way, it's different from previous BMD stories I've done.

I have a feeling Ben is truly going to come to regret not saying I love you back (I swear the second I read that part I was like "ohh, you really should've said it back.").

Ohh he definitely will. 🥲 He's only said those words to her a short handful of times at this point, so he's still at a stage of his character arc where he's not totally comfortable expressing those sentiments, especially around other people (like Butcher and M.M. lol). But he'll learn real quick after this one. 🙃

I also love how well you manage to write the more gritty things, I honestly wasn't shocked about Jackson's—for lack of better words—mind crushing death, but I was actually a little shocked when he killed Tommy (I literally had to remind myself this is Ben we're dealing with. A pissed off, in protective mode Ben at that).

I feel like we do get a hint of Ben's progress becoming better despite those deaths as well. As surprising as killing Tommy was to me, it also felt like a mercy killing as opposed to what Ben was probably considering in his head.

Ahh thank you! 😭 Some of those scenes were hard to write (I held back some, trying to find a balance on the blood and violence that this world has in spades). But I'm glad that you agree on Jackson's death vs. Tom's death. I thought their respective consequences fit their crimes.

And I'm also glad that Tom's death managed to shock you!! I hoped it would take people by surprise at least a little, but I wouldn't blame people for seeing it coming either. 😅

I absolutely love how strong the reader is in the face of danger, her quick witted remarks and refusal to show her fear no matter how much she felt it is simultaneously badass and makes me wanna hug her.

She does her best, poor thing. 🥲 She has been through quite a lot and knows how to hide her fear, but she still feels her fear deeply (and already has trauma). It was hard to write some parts of these scenes, honestly, but there's plenty of hurt/comfort on the way for her. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

I hope we get to see a bit of a gentle side to Ben helping the reader heal, finding that line between how he’s used to operating and not trying to scare her away when she doesn't remember him. As always, this one was an absolutely amazing part and I can't wait to see more!! 💕💕

Oooh you've hit the nail right on the head, friend!! That's going to be a big part of their conflict in Part 2 (and beyond lol).

And thank you again so much!! I'm happy you've enjoyed Part 1, and I can't wait to bring you more of this next week! 💕💕

Wake Me Up - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, Ben is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

AN: Welcome back to the BMD-verse! Let me tell you, I’ve had this mini series outlined for months, but now I thought it was finally time to get to it. If you’re not tired of the Break Me Down world yet, I very much hope you enjoy Wake Me Up.

**As a reminder, this story is set shortly after Love Actually, and will contain references from that three-part story. 

Song Inspo: For this whole series it’s “I Can Read Your Mind” by the Doobie Brothers. (I pretty much listened to this on repeat.)

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Starting off strong in this one: with mature themes, show level violence, angst, kidnapping, PTSD, mentions of torture (not too graphic), and character death.

💚 Wake Me Up Masterlist || Break Me Down Masterlist

Part 1: “Familiar Territory”

The start of a new year continued a steady rhythm for you and Ben. Namely, another successful mission for the Supe Affairs team.

While you were patched into the team’s communications line from the safety of your desk back at the S.A. headquarters in New York, your friends were a few states over in Denver, Colorado. They’d just arrested a supe that had been committing a series of bank robberies by literally slipping away from the police, thanks to his particular superpower.

“Somebody better get this shit off of me,” M.M. groused.

He wasn’t too happy about some questionable ooze this particular supe secreted as a defense mechanism. According to Frenchie’s research, it was the same shit that certain frogs could produce to repel predators.

“Need a good hose down, more like,” said Butcher. “You smell fuckin’ foul.”

“Like Satan’s ass crack,” Ben remarked.

You couldn’t hold back a snort of amusement.

“Let’s just get the fuck outta here,” M.M. said, his tone all surly, as per usual. You didn’t envy his plight.

“Good job, guys,” you said, to change the subject. “Now it’s just a short flight back to New York.”

“No layovers this time. I’m not being paid to rot in a fucking airport with a bunch of mouth-breathing assholes and their screaming brats,” Ben said.

Charming. You rolled your eyes, but a smile played on your lips when you imagined his taciturn face.

“Okay, your majesty. I’ll make sure it’s a nonstop flight,” you said. “I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

That last bit, you said with a hint of more behind your words. You drummed your nails on your desk and crossed your legs underneath it. A week was a long time for you and your boyfriend to be apart, and you’d been missing him.

“You better be,” Ben said. His voice was deep and cocky. He was smirking, you were sure, and you knew that he’d understood you perfectly well.

“Anybody else hearing this blatant foreplay?” Hughie quipped.

“I sense cheeks will be cracked tonight,” Frenchie muttered.

“Ugh!” you heard Annie shudder.

You knew she supported you and Ben, but you also knew that she didn’t want to hear about the gushy details. You laughed through your embarrassment. 

“Okay, guys. I’ll see you all tomorrow,” you said, before you officially signed off. 

You grabbed your purse that was stowed away in a desk drawer, fished out your cell phone, and you called Ben’s cell. He picked up on the second ring.

“Yeah?” he said. 

“I love you,” you said with a smile. “Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

“Mhmm,” he replied. “I’ll see you soon, baby doll.”

You pouted. “Come on, say it.”

“Say what?”

You sighed. You knew he was being deliberately obtuse.

“You know exactly what,” you replied.

Part of you was upset that he didn’t say it back as often as you liked. God forbid Butcher and the others hear him express his affection for you.

But you supposed you understood that any kind of vulnerability was difficult for him, especially in front of others. As much shit as you gave him, you also knew how to pick your battles with Ben.

“I told you. I’ll see you soon,” he said.

You once again tapped your nails, on your armrest this time. After a moment, you relented.

“Okay, baby. Have a safe flight,” you said, even if you were still frowning.

When Ben hung up with you, he let out a deep sigh.

An entire week with these juvenile cocksuckers was almost too much for him to fucking take. While he often felt your presence with you on the comm line during the actual mission, and the occasional phone call on long nights in between, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough.

He was ready to go home.

The flight itself was fine, though dealing with civilians and the tiring experience of a long-ass flight made him even more antsy to land. Because even when they got to JFK, he still had a hired car waiting for him to drive him from the airport to get to Scarsdale, and to the apartment he shared with you. It had already been almost a year of you two living there, in a three-bedroom spanning two floors.

Ben hadn’t thought he would get used to such a small place, but it was all right. It had become his home, far more than the penthouses and party mansions ever were, at least.

When he finally got home and unlocked the front door of the apartment, he stepped into darkness. All the lights were off.

Odd, he thought. He called your name while he shut the door behind him, then flicked on the foyer light. He realized then that he hadn’t seen your car in the driveway. Were you still working? It wasn’t unlike you to get caught up with the paperwork and other logistics after a case.

After a quick look around of each room, from the kitchen to the living room, Ben knew you hadn’t come home yet. A frown marred his face.

He went upstairs and entered the bedroom next. He unclipped his wrist guards and took his gloves off first, followed by loosening the collar of his supe suit. The bed was made, untouched since this morning, he was sure.

Then he noticed the scrap of paper resting on his pillow. He picked it up, and his brows furrowed as he read.

By the time you find me, she’ll wish she was dead.

Ben called Grace Mallory first.

When she didn’t answer, he called Butcher next. Ben’s hand shook the slightest bit while holding the phone up to his ear.

“Evenin’, guv,” Butcher answered with a tired sigh. “What’s this about—”

“We have a fucking problem,” Ben growled.

Ben pushed the limits of his Mercedes Benz while driving himself to Supe Affairs.

The others met him there in a conference room, except for Grace, who was on an active case at the moment. There Hughie and Frenchie tapped into the S.A. security footage on their laptops. 

They eventually found you getting into your car in the S.A. garage, about four hours ago. Then two later, the street cameras picked you up somewhere in the Village. Ben recognized the street. 

You probably had dinner with your friend Yvette and her family, but you intended to make it home on time to meet Ben when you left around 9:00 p.m. 

You had parallel parked at a meter on the street. According to the footage, it looked quiet and empty when you headed back to your car. 

You were stopped by someone before you could get the driver’s side door open. It looked like a man’s height and build; he grabbed you by the shoulder and threw a punch you managed to dodge.

You put up a good fight, but you were eventually knocked out with what looked to be a crowbar, at first glance. When Hughie zoomed in, it was actually a black baton. Ben watched it all with a deepening frown. Anger churned in his gut and ignited his blood as he watched your unconscious body being hauled into a black SUV.

“That looks military-issued,” M.M. said, pointing at the baton that the suspect used to hit you.

Butcher nodded, and also noted the man’s fighting style. “That’s a professional.”

“He would have to be, to take her out,” M.M. said, glancing at Ben. “And the timing. They knew you were coming home. That note was personal, besides the fact that they were casing your place…they’ve probably been watching both of you, waiting for the chance to get the jump on you.”

“The question,” Butcher said, “is who the fuck would wanna tangle with Soldier Boy that badly?”   

“Shit. That’s a laundry list, isn’t it?” Hughie said. M.M.’s glance told him to shut the fuck up.

Ben was silent, but his fury was mounting. His head turned sharply to Butcher.

“Get Mallory on the line. Now,” he barked. When no one moved quick enough for him, his temper snapped at its thinly held leash.

“I said right fucking now!”

Slowly you blinked your eyes open. For a moment, you were seeing in double vision. It soon cleared up to reveal dark, damp, musty surroundings.

It smelled familiar; after that mission to find and subdue Sapphire a couple of months ago, you’d recognize a New York sewer anywhere.

Fuuucking shit, you thought with a groan. Your head was aching. You felt a trickle of blood down the side of your neck, and you found yourself in a familiar position—seated on a metal chair with your hands secured behind your back. Your restraints felt like zip ties.

“You finally with us, sweetheart?” asked a man. His voice was smooth and commanding.

“Jackson, I don’t know about this,” whispered someone else. Another man, though he sounded slightly younger, reminding you of Hughie.

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” Jackson snapped.

At least you had a name. He stepped into the light that came from a couple of small lanterns. One was propped on top of a bucket by the wall. The other was on a plastic fold out table that you saw a few feet beside you.

The man who stepped into your line of vision was tall, maybe around Ben’s height, if just shy of his build. He was blonde, just like his skinnier friend. They shared some notable facial features and coloring, but while Jackson’s eyes were dark brown and self-assured, the younger man’s were blue and apprehensive. If you had to guess, they looked like brothers.

“Nice digs,” you remarked, gesturing with your gaze at your surroundings.

Jackson rose a brow, crossing his arms.

“You’re taking all this pretty well,” he said. 

You huffed humorlessly.

“This isn’t exactly my first kidnapping,” you said.

He quirked his head and drew closer.   

“All right. Well, since we’re on the clock, let me tell you why you’re here,” he said. He bent down in front of you so that his face was level with yours. “I need you, sweetheart. You’re going to tell me how to bring down Soldier Boy. How to kill him. How to end him. Then maybe, I’ll let you go without gouging out those pretty eyes.”

You stared back at Jackson with an expression that didn’t change.

Then you spat in his face.

And you expected the hard, back-handed slap that made your head whip to the side. It rattled you for a moment as you caught your breath, but you recovered enough to lean back in your seat. Your eyes met Jackson’s directly after he wiped his face with his shirt. “Tommy” stood off to the side behind his partner. He’d looked away when you were hit.

You focused on the other man, Jackson. He was wearing black cargo pants to match his boots, and a belt with a gun on his hip. He carried himself like a trained killer.

“Military, government agency, or private sector?” you asked.

His head tilted. He studied you, just like you were studying him.

“None of the above really,” he said. “Not anymore.”

He walked over to the fold out table, where he grabbed a black bag and unzipped it. A flash of silver gleamed as he pulled out one sharp instrument after the next. You had to hide your apprehension, and fear that made your insides tremble.

He glanced over at you.

“Let’s get started,” he said.

Hours later, you were teetering on the edge of consciousness.

After the last hit, you spat a wad of phlegm and blood onto Jackson’s shoes. He rotated the ache out of his hand. He looked down at you through furrowed brows.

“Damn, bitch,” he said, catching his breath. “You can take a hit. I’ll give you that.” 

“My dad was a Marine, numb nuts,” you managed to reply, through labored breaths. “He used to hit harder with his open hand than all the strength in that limp-dick wrist of yours.” 

Jackson smirked. “Christ. Daddy issues, huh? Why doesn’t that surprise me.” 

You gave him a droll look. Again, to cover your fear, because you weren’t willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing it.

Angered and frustrated by that defiance, he reached down at grabbed your neck and jaw with one hand. You winced at the force of his grip, but when he started squeezing, this was the one thing that made you truly whimper. You tried not to think about the ghost of your father’s hand around your neck.

“Don’t you get it, asshole?” you gritted out while struggling for breath. “You can’t kill him. No one can. Stronger, smarter people than you have tried.” 

Moments ticked by while Jackson contemplated your words. 

Then he released you. You sucked in gulps of hair and tried not to cough out a lung.

“Maybe,” he said. “But Soldier Boy’s got a weakness. If anyone knows it, I’ve got a feeling it’s you.” 

You can’t say anything. You can’t, you can’t, you can’t. 

That had been your mantra for every minute you had spent in this hole. You shook your head.

“Look, Jackson.” You sucked in another breath to steady yourself, and blink a drip of blood out of your eyes. “He’s going to kill you. You and your brother. Take your family and run, while you’ve still got a chance.” 

“…You know what? You’re probably right,” Jackson said, scratching the back of his head with his crimson-stained hand. “But I just realized something.”

He leaned down again, until he was level with your face.

“When he finds you, drowned in your own goddamn blood…I think the look on his face might just be enough for me.”

Your eyes widened. 

It took days. Three painful days to pick up the threads, which led closer to home than anyone could’ve anticipated. 

Grace Mallory put pressure across the chain of command, and even reached out to the FBI for assistance. An alert email finally came to her phone, and she realized that an agent on her own payroll had been flagged for never reporting back for his debriefing on a reconnaissance mission.

That agent was Jackson Rawlins.

The further she read into his file, the worse her frown became. She immediately sent the lead to Ben, Butcher, and the rest of the team to run down. For the first time in years, Grace actually prayed.

She prayed that they would reach you in time. It wasn’t until then that she realized it; she hadn’t thought of you as a cog in her system for some time now—not even as leverage against Soldier Boy. She was genuinely concerned about you.

Grace worried that she was setting herself up for disappointment…if it was too late. However, she also worried about what would happen if you didn’t survive. She considered how Ben might react, with that nuclear power within him that he was still learning to control. The consequences of this mission could very well be catastrophic. 

You were losing track of time in this windowless pit. You knew it had been days, but you didn’t remember how many. The cellar was cold, and the way sound and air traveled, it felt like you were underground. It certainly smelled like it—damp and gross. It made you certain this was a sewer.

Now this is Satan’s ass crack, you thought. You winced at the pain that radiated…pretty much everywhere. Blood had dried from various lacerations across your face, neck, chest, and arms, and bruises were dark against your skin.

Your blouse was in tatters, and your jeans had bleeding rips as well, though at least he’d kept your ankle boots on. You were too weak even for hunger. And a large, heavy chain attached to manacles on your wrists had replaced the zip ties. One end of the chain was fastened between the wall and a line of plumbing.

Footsteps echoed down the hall behind you. You closed your eyes and steeled yourself.

“Are we actually gonna have a conversation today?” Jackson asked.

“Depends,” you replied, your voice dry and coarse. “Are you going to tell me why you hate Ben so much?”

An angry sigh escaped Jackson’s lips. He pointed up in frustration.

“Ben.” Jackson rolled and cracked his neck, like just the mention of your boyfriend’s real name was disgusting to this man.

“You talk about him like he’s a real fucking person. Not like the animal supe he is,” he said.

“He is a person,” you said, both in exhaustion, and in pain. “And he’s trying to be better. Look, he’s done terrible things. I’m not saying he hasn’t. I don’t know what he’s done to you in the past, but—”

Jackson shut you up with a sharp backhand. It made black spots encroach on your vision as you caught your breath.

You noticed his brother Tom come in the room as well, to watch and worry. He didn’t seem comfortable with this way of things. He looked like a civilian. Maybe you could use that to your advantage…

But you lost track of thought after that, when Jackson started in on you with either his hands, or the creativity of the instruments on the table nearby. 

You tried to block out the pain, along with his questions about Ben. If you couldn’t talk about him, you couldn’t let yourself think about him. So you couldn’t say anything.

Not about the Novichok nerve agent, one of the few things that had been found to incapacitate him. Not his imprisonment by Vought or the S.A.—nothing that your captor could one day use against Ben.

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

Even though all you wanted right now was him. 

Ben, please…

You zoned in and out of consciousness from there.

When you next registered being awake, mercifully, you were left alone. You raised your head when Tom came to blot at least some of your wounds and give you water. You’d only eaten small pieces of protein bars for days. 

“I’m sorry,” Tom whispered.

“Why does he want Ben?” you wheezed. “Why are you going along with this if you’re so damn sorry?”

Tom looked up at you with pain and grief in his blue eyes. He sighed and dragged a nearby chair from the table. He sat beside you while he fed you half a protein bar. It was a struggle to even get the pieces down.

“Last year,” said Tom, clearing his throat. “I lived in the building that Soldier Boy blew up when he got back from…wherever the Russians had him.”

Your eyes widened as you processed that. “You…but you made it out. Why—”

“I wasn’t home. I was at work,” Tom said. His voice was pained as his eyes became red and glassy. “Our mom wasn’t so lucky.”

You sighed, closing your eyes.

“She was retired, and I was taking care of her,” Tom said. He wiped at his eyes and sniffed. “Jackson wasn’t here. He was on a mission in Colombia. Told me he was cleaning up some cartel shit.”

At that, you had a sneaking suspicion that coiled in your gut. Ben had left a bit of a mess when he peaced out of Colombia, with an entire plane filled with drugs and weapons from whatever cartel he’d infiltrated. (In his words, he’d cut the head off the snake.)

Grace told you she’d sent a team in to handle that mess…

“Your brother—who does he work for?” you asked. Though you had a feeling you knew the answer.

Tom seemed to read your understanding, and his face turned grim.

“The CIA,” he said.

Fuck, you grimaced. So not only had Ben been responsible for their mother’s death, but Jackson had been part of the team that cleaned up his mess in South America. It explained why Jackson was somehow able to find your information; Supe Affairs had become a subsect of the CIA, thanks to Grace. 

“I didn’t know he was planning this. I swear to God. All he said was that he had a way to get at Soldier Boy,” Tom said. You let out a deep breath.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I really am,” you said. Tears welled up hot in your eyes. “But you need to let me go. For your own safety, believe me.”

You saw the guilt, the sadness, the regret on Tom’s face. The brief indecision was overtaken when he glanced down the hall. You knew then that he was more afraid of his own brother than he was willing to do the right thing.

Your tears spilled over, though you tried to breathe through it. You’d tried to save them for when you were alone, those seldom few, cold hours, but you were reaching your breaking point.

“Okay, before I go, do you have to use the bathroom?” Tom asked. There was a bucket in the corner, and Jackson preferred it away from the chair. It was the only time Tom was allowed to unchain you from the wall and let you stretch your legs.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, you nodded in agreement. It was humiliating to know you were going to have to do this yet again, in a bucket, with company. With the manacles still on your wrists, he brought you over to the “special” corner.

Tom sighed and looked away to give you some semblance of privacy.

That was when you used every scrap of energy you had left in you.

You grabbed the chain and yanked it out of his hands long enough to wrap it around his neck from behind. You cut off his sounds of strain and kicked out his knees, so he was forced to kneel on the ground.

You wrapped the rest of the chain around your thigh, giving you the leverage you needed to tighten your grip and choke him out, until he was unconscious. His body fell to the side, and you heaved for breath. Once again, there were black spots in your vision, but you did your best to blink them away.

Now set with determination, you made your way to the plastic table and searched for the key to your chains. After the manacles were unlocked, you rubbed at your raw wrists and rapidly scanned the room. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you calculated which way you should go to try and escape.

There were three possibilities in this clearing under the sewer: left, right, or straight ahead. Every time Tom or Jackson emerged, it sounded like it was behind you. The chair was facing to the east, which meant you had to take the left tunnel.

You ran in that direction and tried to find a metal ladder that would take you to whatever manhole cover these guys had detached. Someone couldn’t just open up any of those iron plates without the right tools, from the inside or the outside.

You walked as fast as you could manage, even though your entire body protested in pain. Then finally, you saw a black duffel bag lying on the ground, against the wall. Next to it was a metal ladder that went all the way up to the top.

“Jackson, don’t!”

You heard Tom’s voice, but you felt the presence behind you too late. Jackson hit you in the back of the head with that damn baton, so hard that even he grimaced at how the sound echoed on the walls. You crumpled to the ground.

Jackson stood over you with a grim set to his face. He turned to his brother with a shake of his head.

“She’s a walking welt, and you couldn’t handle her?” he said.

“This is too much,” Tom said in worry. He bent down and held two fingers to your neck. He still felt a pulse, at least, but when he felt behind your head, he found blood. His hand shook as he stared at it.

“If you didn’t want in on this, you should’ve said so from the beginning,” said Jackson. He spun the baton in his hand and clipped the hilt to his belt, from a small metal loop on the end of it.

“You didn’t say anything about…about this!” Tom argued. He cleaned your blood off on his jacket.

Jackson regarded his brother with disappointment, and he hefted you up into his arms. Tom followed him back to their setup with your makeshift prison. There Jackson left you lying on the ground, and chained you back up by your wrists for good measure. He then literally and figuratively wiped his hands of you.

“Come on, we’re leaving,” he said. “For good this time.”

Tom looked at you, then his brother in shock. There was even emotion in his eyes.   

“We’re leaving her to die,” he said, his voice unsteady. He knew then, that their mother wouldn't have wanted this in her name. If she saw both of them now, she wouldn't recognize them.

Jackson grabbed his younger brother where his neck met his shoulder. An iron grip.

“And what do you think Soldier Boy is going to do if he finds us?” Jackson asked. His gaze encouraged Tom to explore that reality for a moment.

Jackson nodded at your unconscious form. “Trust me, that bitch was never going to talk. But this is almost better.”

It wasn’t right, Tom thought. He knew it, deep in his heart, but he wasn’t strong like his brother, or even like you.

That was when they heard it. The rumble of engines dying and tires rolling overhead, dislodging a few stray pebbles and dust from the ceiling. Jackson’s eyes widened. 

“Fuck!” he muttered. “All right, let’s go.”

Jackson forced his younger brother to leave the sewer with him, and leave you chained up on the floor.

Ben, Butcher, M.M., and Frenchie had done much of the legwork in tracking down Jackson Rawlins and his brother Tom (with help from Annie, Kimiko, and Hughie of course). Frenchie had found your likely location with a powerful thermal scanner, courtesy of Grace.

Now, they’d driven up to the wide alley in the city and blocked off all the exits on the block. Ben was the first to get his boots on the ground and stride toward the point of entry, where according to Frenchie’s scanners, more than one body was holed up in the sewer. He held his shield at his side and at the ready when the manhole cover loosened, and slid open.

A small gas bomb rolled out towards his feet, but it was just tear gas, not the kind of thing that could actually affect him. Ben picked up the little round ball of metal and crushed it in his hand. While the rest of the team dove for the oxygen masks stored in the car, Ben stalked forward.

Seeing the silhouette of a man, Ben threw his shield hard enough to rattle a supe.

Jackson Rawlins was thrown clean onto his back with a force that stole the breath from his lungs, even through his gas mask. It also broke half a dozen ribs. Ben was soon bearing on top of him and ripping off the mask.

Jackson cried out as remnants of the tear gas seared his eyes.

“Got us a runner!” Butcher shouted. He intercepted and grabbed up a second man who tried to escape. Tom Rawlins wasn’t the threat, but he still wasn’t going free. M.M. and Frenchie also dove down into the sewer to try and find you after they got their gas masks on.

Meanwhile, Ben hauled Jackson up by his neck and walked him back until he hit the brick wall beside a nail salon. Jackson grunted in pain. Every breath he took was now agonizing, thanks to his now battered and broken ribs.

“Where is she?” Ben demanded.

Jackson actually laughed in his face, despite his now bloodshot eyes.

“All you fucking supes are the same,” he said. “But you…you’re the worst. Quite literally, the original asshole. And what does the government do? What does the world do? Gives you a pass on decades of indiscretions, fuck ups, and straight up murder.” 

Ben didn’t outwardly react, but he knew what Jackson’s problem was. He knew he killed the man’s family. Collateral damage—something that had caused Ben more than one argument with you in the past.

But he didn’t care.

He didn’t care, because all he could see in his mind’s eye was a metal bat hitting the back of your head and knocking you clean out. He saw you being taken against your will. Taken from him. And that, he couldn’t abide.

“Where. Is she?” Ben said, as his grip flexed around the other man’s neck. It would be easy. Easier than snapping a toothpick. And he warned, “Don’t make me fucking repeat myself.”

“Dead, probably,” Jackson spat, despite his red and bleary eyes. “Real tough bitch. I see why you’re fucking her…I had me a little taste myself.”

In that moment, Ben couldn’t compute.

His green eyes widened. His breath stilled.

Then his jaw clenched so tight that his teeth were grinding. A fire in his blood and behind his eyes, and fury that burned hot in his chest, almost giving it that nuclear glow.

His hand tightened and choked any salacious words Jackson might’ve spewed out next.

“He didn’t!” Tom shouted out. He was being restrained by Butcher. Ben glanced at them out of the corner of his eye.  

“He didn’t touch her. Not like that,” Tom said. He looked sincere.  

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” said his older brother. 

It earned Ben’s attention back. Jackson had the look of a man who knew he was going to die either way.

Ben’s lips curled into a sneer. He took the man’s head with both hands, and slowly crushed his skull. The scream echoed between Ben’s ears, but he was only satisfied when Jackson’s lifeless body dropped at his feet.

He turned to the other Rawlins next.

Tom had screamed as well to watch his brother’s life ended before his eyes. He now stared straight into Soldier Boy’s, pleading wordlessly for his own life. Ben started toward him.

“Please,” Tom said. He tried twisting away from Butcher, who held firm to the man’s arm. The Brit knew all too well, the rage that Ben had in his blood.

“Ben,” Annie tried, and she even stepped forward. Butcher held a hand out against her with a knowing look. It wouldn’t be wise to stand in the way.

“Hey!” M.M. shouted up from down the open hatch of the sewer. “We found her! Need help getting her loose.”

Ben paused in his steps. Tom was shaking, lips trembling, petrified.

Tilting his head, Ben let out a subtle breath through his nose. He began to turn back toward the sewer.

At the last moment, however, he drew his gun and shot Tom Rawlins between the eyes. The man was dead before he hit the ground.

Annie and Hughie flinched, but Butcher and Kimiko weren’t surprised in the least.

Meanwhile, Ben made his way back towards M.M.’s voice, and into the sewer. He heard M.M. and Frenchie arguing about first aid and head wounds, the further in he went. Ben’s dark mood blackened even more along the way.

Once he reached them, he also reached you, held in M.M.’s arms as he cradled your head.

You were unconscious with your wrists locked into heavy chains. The furrow between Ben’s brows deepened, but he got down to his knees beside you and first, broke your chains. He guided you out of M.M.’s arms and into his own, making sure to support your head. Blood was already staining his half-glove and fingers.

It was then that he noticed the small crimson pool lying where your body had been, likely from the wound he could feel at the back of your head. Ben’s mouth trembled the slightest bit, mostly in anger as he drew himself back onto his feet. Your body was littered with bruises, cuts both shallow and deep made by what looked like a blade, and God knew what else.

“I had me a little taste myself,” Jackson had taunted.

No, Ben internally shook that thought from his mind. No, you hadn’t been touched like that, at least, according to the sniveling, cock-sucking brother.

But can you trust that little cunt’s word?

Ben briefly closed his eyes, pressing his lips to your forehead. He continued walking down the hall and towards the light and fresh air of the world above.

You’re gonna be just fine, he promised you, if just within the safety of his mind.

Yeah, you would be all right.

He was going to make sure of it.

AN: 🫣 I'm sorry...BUT, I can promise it will get better (eventually). First, it's going to get worse.

Next Time:

It was a slow process, and it hurt, but you managed to turn your head. You saw a man sitting in the corner with a laptop balanced on his lap. He typed with two fingers at a time, which reminded you of your grandfather. His brown hair fell over his furrowed brows, but his beard was well trimmed.

His head soon raised, possibly feeling the weight of your gaze. His eyes widened a fraction, and he hastily closed the laptop and set it down on his seat before he went to you. You frowned when he came to sit at your bedside, and even touched your cheek with a gentle hand.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth. “How’re you feeling?”

You didn’t have the energy to lean away from his hand, but you did give him a look of weary confusion.

“I…I don’t…who are you?” you asked.

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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