#Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader Series | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wildwestdean · 3 months

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sweet and sour

summary: when you get back home after drinking a little too much, a sweeter side of ben slips out to take care of you. though you quickly learn that with him, you can't have any sweet without a little sour

pairing: soldier boy x female reader

word count: 3.2k+

warnings: some (mainly) ooc ben, swearing, depictions of alcohol consumption, drunk reader, angst, mentions of drug use, allusions to past sexual behaviours, fluff, hurt/comfort, nicknames/pet names

a/n: okay so i haven't actually made it to soldier boy's appearance in the boys yet, but i had a burning desire to write for him anyway. so yeah just don't judge pls lol

“What the fuck are you doing?” boomed a voice from behind you.

You jumped slightly at the sudden noise, but turned with a grin upon recognizing whose voice it was.

“Ben!” you giggled, meeting his confused gaze with bright eyes as you slightly swayed on your feet. “What’re you doing?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, trying to fight off the smirk forming on his lips as he ignored your question. “Looks like you had a good time out, huh, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t help the heat that rose to your cheeks at the term of endearment, or the string of giggles that left your lips. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but it never failed to make you giddy - especially now. “I did!” you announced, before a frown suddenly took over your face as you remembered why you were in the kitchen “But now I want another drink, and I can’t find anythin’.”

Ben just stared at you for a moment, taking in your rosey cheeks and glossy eyes; but most importantly, the frown that currently adorned your adorable face. He would never admit it, not even to himself, but he suddenly wanted nothing more than for that frown to disappear.

“Alright,” he sighed, heading over to you. “What do you want?”

You watched as he approached, taking in his more casual appearance of a t-shirt and sweats - and, you noticed with a shy grin, a pair of old man slippers. He came to a stop just before you, and you paused as you stared up at his stoic face while he towered over you. You didn’t even hear his question, too distracted by his overwhelming everything to even realize he asked something.

He softly called your name to rouse you from your stupor, repeating it a little more gruffly when it didn’t work the first time. “What?” you asked, blinking up at his annoyed yet smirking face.

“I asked you what you wanted,” he murmured.

“Oh,” you said, your face scrunching together as you thought about it for a few moments. “I dunno,” you determined with a shrug.

“And you expect me to find something for you?” he asked curtly, his brows rising in disbelief.

Your brow unfurrowed as you grinned up at him. “Yes, please!” you declared eagerly, oblivious to the fact that he did not want to cater to you.

He clenched his jaw, extremely irritated with his urge to smile at the sight of your cheesy grin. “Fucking-” he started, before he cut himself off with a long sigh, rolling his eyes. “Alright, fine. Just go sit down or something.”

“Why?” you asked sadly, the frown taking over your face again.

“Why?” he echoed incredulously. “When I came in, you were trying to find a drink while just staring at the fucking glassware for over a minute. That’s why.”

“Were you watchin’ me?” you asked smugly, smirking up at him. “Besides, that doesn’t mean I can’t help find a drink!” you argued, completely missing his point.

His blank expression faltered for a second, a flash of colour fleeting across his face so quick it may as well have never been there. Then he simply barked a laugh, which only deepened your frown. “I bet you wish I was, huh? And you know, that's actually exactly what it means, dollface,” he chuckled darkly, tracing his knuckles along your cheek before suddenly grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up onto the counter. “So sit this one out,” he said, ignoring your shriek of shock and protest.

“Fine,” you grumbled, completely bewildered by the ease in which he manoeuvred you; as if it cost him zero effort. Which, of course, you knew to be true.

“Good,” he said, smiling in satisfaction before ghosting a kiss against your forehead. “Now don’t fuckin’ fall off,” he warned as he walked over to the coffee machine.

You watched him in confusion, your swirling brain trying to figure out why he was suddenly so much more affectionate with you. You were used to him teasing you, or returning your flirtations and banter, though this felt like more than that. Maybe he was just being extra nice since you were drunk. Or maybe you only thought he was being extra nice because, well, you were drunk.

“Okay, knock it off,” he demanded, glancing over at you. “Why are you so frowny? I thought you liked your stupid girls’ night thing,” he added, leaning against the island with his arms crossed.

“I do like my girls' nights! And I’m not frowny” you grumbled, almost offended he would suggest otherwise.

“No?” he challenged, arching a brow as he took a few steps towards you. “‘Cause last I checked, this wasn’t your pretty smile,” he teased, tracing a thumb against your persistently downturned lips. Your smile naturally grew at that, and he beamed in response. “There’s my girl.”

Your eyes widened at his words, and your reaction must have made Ben realize what he was doing. With slightly widened eyes of his own, he dropped his hand from your face as if burned and turned away from you once more, busying himself with making your coffee - exactly the way you liked it.

You watched in silence, your feet softly swaying against the lower cabinets as your mind drifted in and out. “You don’t have any company tonight?” you found yourself asking suddenly.

“Think I’d be in here doing this if I had fucking company?” he asked hotly. “And I’m pretty sure you know when the last time I had company was,” he added bitterly.

Through all the months of you living with Ben, you had noticed when his parade of bed warmers had started to dwindle down; and you had definitely noticed when it stopped altogether. Part of you likes to wish you had something to do with it, while the other part knew that was insane.

“Okay, grouchy,” you scolded with a chuckle. “Don’t act like it’s my fault.”

“When the fuck did I act like it was your fault?” he snapped, growing exasperated.

“Are you almost done?” you asked brazenly, ignoring his question. “I’m thirsty.”

“Coming right up, princess,” he sneered.

You knew it was meant in a derogatory way based on his tone, yet you couldn’t help the warm tingle that spread through you anyway.

“Here,” he grunted after a few minutes, nearly shoving the mug at you. He raised his eyebrows impatiently when all you did was stare down at it. “I better not have made this for nothing,” he warned.

You gingerly took it from his hands, staring at it as if it was a foreign object; because, with a fluttering heart, you realized that he gave you your favourite mug - though you knew it was probably just a coincidence.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, grinning softly at him before taking a sip.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes as he hastily turned his back on you once more.

“You seem extra grumpy tonight,” you pointed out, watching him intently as you happily sipped away.

“Who fucking cares?” he grumbled, keeping his attention off you as he made himself a drink - a strong one. He had a sinking feeling that if he looked at you he’d feel all warm inside again, and he refused to let that happen. “Besides. Maybe me being extra grumpy has to do with the drunk girl currently sitting on my counter.”

“Oh,” you said meekly. “I’m bothering you?”

“You always fucking bother me,” he mumbled, slamming the bottle down.

“I don’t mean to,” you assured quietly, your vision growing blurry with unshed tears. “I thought we’ve been getting along,” you added sadly.

“Me putting up with you isn’t us getting along, dollface,” he sneered.

You inhaled sharply at his declaration, your tears finally breaking loose and running down your face. “I can just leave you alone, then,” you offered, your voice a mere whisper.

Ben made the mistake of glancing over at you, and the pang of guilt he felt inside his chest really pissed him off. He begrudgingly made his way over to you, standing between your swaying legs as he tried to meet your gaze - but you refused to acknowledge his presence.

“Look at me,” he ordered, placing a hand on your chin to force your gaze on him.

“No,” you said, closing your eyes.

He let out an honest chuckle at your stubbornness, and if you had been able to see him, you would’ve noticed his eyes sparkle with affection. “Look at me,” he said again, much softer this time as his thumbs wiped away your tears.

You let out a resigned breath, slowly looking up at him.

“There she is,” he cooed, a small smile growing on his face. “Hey, darlin’.”

“Hi,” you replied solemnly, your face scrunching ever so slightly in confusion over the interaction.

He didn’t speak for a while. Instead he just stood there, staring at you with your face in his hands as he tried to figure out what the hell to say next.

“Look, just- stop crying, alright?” he said awkwardly, almost nervously.

“Is that your idea of being comforting?” you asked dejectedly, almost laughing in disbelief.

His grip on your cheeks tightened ever so slightly for a fraction of a second, before loosening again. “You and I both know that offering comfort isn’t my thing.”

“You could at least try,” you muttered snidely. “I’m tired of being the only one of us who tries.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” he snapped, letting you go and taking a step back in order to glare at you.

You scoffed, frustratingly swiping away angry tears that began to stream down your face. “It doesn’t matter.”

A heavy silence blanketed the two of you, and you picked up your mug to idly sip at it once more as he stared you down. He suddenly let out a frustrated huff, swearing and muttering under his breath as he turned away from you and grabbed his glass. With disbelieving eyes, you watched as he left the kitchen without a second glance. You weren’t a stranger to arguments with Ben, but this time, it felt different.

You stayed where you were perched, silently finishing your coffee and trying to make sense of everything that happened. You worked yourself back up into another frenzy as you thought everything over, and by the time your mug was empty you slammed it onto the counter with so much force you were surprised it didn’t break. Hopping off the counter, you began to stumble your way to your bedroom while angrily grumbling to yourself. A new inferno was set alight within you when along the way you came across Ben, nonchalantly lounging in the den as if nothing ever even happened.

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to do that inside?” you snapped, watching in growing contemptment as he merely glanced in your direction before turning his attention elsewhere, smoke billowing over his face.

“Tell you what, princess,” he muttered, taking another long drag from the joint he held. “I’ll stop smokin’ inside, as soon as you start payin’ for this fucking place.”

Without so much as giving it a second thought, you marched over to him and ripped the joint from his hands. He raised an eyebrow as he watched you with curiosity, a smirk already forming on his lips.

“I said,” you seethed, grabbing the ashtray from the side table as you stared him down. “Stop.”

He stayed silent, watching as you crushed the joint in the tray before tossing it back on the table with a clang. The corners of his mouth twitched as he fought back an amused grin before he steeled himself.

“I’ll go ahead and give you ten seconds to leave,” he announced calmly, though you knew him well enough by now to notice the hint of warning in his tone.

“Or what?” you challenged, stubbornly crossing your arms.

Normally, you knew when to stop trying to push his buttons, but you had just enough alcohol still coursing through you to keep on going this time.

He leaned forward, his presence completely imposing despite the fact he was sitting and you were standing over him. “Do you really want to find out?”

You shifted nervously as you took in his expression, and you knew he was both pissed off and annoyed; then again, it was rare that he wasn’t.

“Whatever,” you finally muttered, turning away to leave.

It wasn’t due to you being afraid of him - yes, he was intimidating as all hell, but he had never once actually physically hurt you. Despite the many times the urge struck him, and no matter how much he despised it, he quickly learned that you’re the one person he could never lay a harmful hand on. No, you simply left because you were growing exhausted over this whole night, and you just wanted some peace and quiet.

“Thought so,” he grumbled behind your back, snickering as you momentarily stopped in your tracks.

“Oh, just go to hell, Benjamin!” you exclaimed, whipping the closest thing you could grab towards his head.

He caught it easily, laughing heartily when he realized what it was. “Thanks, doll. This is just what I needed,” he teased with a grin, rattling the pill bottle as he held it in the air for you to see. “It’s the only way I can fuckin’ put up with you.”

You stared at him carefully, and you could tell just by the look in his eyes that he only said it to get another rise out of you, but you couldn’t help the way your bottom lip trembled as you fought back more tears.

His face instantly fell as he noticed your reaction, and while it was his intention, he instantly regretted it. With a heavy sigh, he tossed the bottle aside and stood up.

“What are you-” you began to ask as he made his way over to you, but he cut you off.

“Just shut up for once,” he muttered, a trace of a lighthearted chuckle in his voice as he shook his head.

You opened your mouth to fire off more insults when he shocked all the words out of your vocabulary by wrapping his arms around you. He rested his chin on the top of your head, and even though you felt insurmountable anger towards him, you quickly found yourself melting into his touch, your arms tightening around his torso. A few moments passed by before he let out a small sigh, his fingers tracing a feather-light pattern along your back; a gentleness neither of you knew he was even capable of.

“Look, I-... I didn’t… mean it,” he finally said. His tone was tight and awkward, and you knew it was a near impossible thing for him to actually admit. Honestly, hearing those words from him was nothing short of a miracle.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, knowing this was the closest you would ever get to an apology from him.

“How about we get you to bed, huh?” he asked lightly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Yeah,” you said, pulling away from him. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

You quickly left before he could respond, making it to your bedroom and locking yourself away in the bathroom to get ready. You took your time, carefully scrubbing away all the traces of the club, and the rest of the night, that you could before slipping into your night clothes.

The first thing your bleary eyes noticed when you reentered your bedroom was Ben, paused in the middle of your room with a glass of water in his hand.

“What are you doing?” you asked curiously, rubbing at your tired eyes.

He let out a heavy exhale, looking at you with an expression you’ve never seen on him before. “Was just… bringing this to leave for you."

“Thanks,” you replied awkwardly, meeting him halfway to take the glass from him.

He stared at you for a moment, watching as you made your way to the bed and under the covers. He wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what.

“I’ve been trying, you know,” he suddenly grumbled, unable to take the tense silence any longer.

“What?” you wondered aloud, glancing over at him.

His face was scrunched in concentration as he stared at something straight ahead, unable to bring himself to meet your gaze. “With you. To be… I don’t know… better.”

His words took you by surprise, and you felt a little guilty for making him think you never noticed. “I know that,” you admitted softly.

“I don’t think you do,” he quipped, his voice more aggressive than he meant it to be. “You bother me all the fucking time.”

“You know-” you began to argue, anger starting to simmer deep within your bones again.

“Stop,” he all but growled, holding up a hand. “Just fucking listen for once.”

You glowered at him, folding your arms as you sank further under the covers, as if seeking some kind of protection, while waiting for him to continue.

It took him a while to speak up again, and you almost thought he’d never continue, but he hesitantly explained himself. “You bother me… because you make me different.”

“What do you mean?” you asked tentatively.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, chuckling humourlessly. “I’m a dick. I don’t care that I’m a dick. But you- I’m around you, and I want to be less…” he trailed off with a sigh, unsure of how to go on.

“Less dickish?” you offered, fighting off a smile.

“Yeah,” he agreed, awkwardly clearing his throat. “Yeah, I guess so.”

You hummed thoughtfully, thinking over your response. “In case you haven’t noticed, you don’t exactly send me running for the hills, Ben.”

“I know that,” he said passively. “I just… I don’t know. Don’t think that I don’t try.”

He finally turned to look at you, and you could see the pleading in his eyes; the hurt. You sighed in defeat, sitting up and gesturing for him to take up the space beside you. He hesitated, raising a brow in contemplation before making his way over. You peeled back the covers for him, and he carefully slid in; cautious, as though he thought it was a trap.

Neither of you were sure what to do next, and after a few minutes of awkward silence, you laid down to settle in for some sleep. Ben followed suit, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in close; you instinctively nestled against him, relishing in the warmth he provided.

“I hope you don’t think I’m drunk enough to forget that you were actually sweet tonight,” you said suddenly, your voice a playful whisper.

He let out a chuckle, his chest rumbling beneath your cheek and forcing a small giggle from you.

“Just don’t expect it all the time,” he declared, a playful undertone in his voice as well. “I’m mostly sour.”

Though despite his declaration, his grip tightened to pull you in a little closer.

“Well,” you said, closing your eyes and relaxing against him. “Sweet and sour does happen to be my favourite combination.”

“And thank Christ for that,” he muttered, more to himself than anything.

You smiled to yourself, hearing his words despite them sounding far away. You had a fleeting intent to respond, but your mind grew too heavy, and you quickly fell asleep to the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your head - though, not before you felt him placing a lingering kiss to your hairline, paired with a murmured goodnight, sweetheart.

tagging: @roseblue373

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fic #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fluff #soldier boy angst #jensen ackles #jensen ackles soldier boy #the boys tv #the boys #the boys series #soldier boy the boys

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cheynovak · 1 month

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Payback

Soldier boy x F/ plus size reader

Warnings: 18+, cursing, smut, unprotected sex, age difference, body shaming, just a LOT of SMUT.

Side note: English isn’t my first language.

*Does not follow The Boys storyline *

Story:

A few years ago, Y/N an old friend high school friend of Hughie, was the most beautiful girl in school, or so did her boyfriend think. She was the only girl who wasn’t a cheerleader or popular IT girl that got the quarterbacks attention. Now years later, Y/N finds out her man has been cheating on her for some time.

“I can’t believe you two are still together.” Hughie said smiling, he looked at Annie “Y/N was the only girl in school this fella had eyes for, and it took him quite some time to convince her to go out on a date with him. You are a very lucky man, Jack.” Jack swirled his drink around “I used to maybe. But now a days... she just doesn’t seem to be taking care about herself anymore.”

Hughie, Annie and Soldier Boy had just stepped into their house. Hughie needed a place to stay for the night, just to lay low and the only person he knew in town was Y/N. Who was she to say no to her oldest best friend.

Soldier boy didn’t seem to want to join their reunion, so he asked for his room. Y/N had just shown him and was walking back, now here she stood, listening to what Jack was saying, hiding in the hallway.

His voice floated to her on a current of disbelief and hurt. "She put on so much weight, man. I don't know what to do. I'm just not as attracted to her anymore."

Y/N's heart broke.

She felt the weight of his criticisms pressing down on her, each syllable a cruel reminder of her insecurities. "Her thighs are massive, ass to thick, her breasts used to fit in the palm of my hand, perfect. Oh, and don’t get me started on her stretch marks," Jack's voice echoed.

"What we used to call not fuck-worthy," he scoffed. Leaving Hughie and Annie speechless. “I’m sure you are over reacting?” Annie tried to lighten the air. "Yeah." Hughie added. "She didn't gained that much."

Is that why he didn’t touch her anymore Y/N though, eyes filling with tears. “Than why are you still with her if looks are so important?” Hughie asked slightly irritated. “Guilt, we wanted a kid that didn’t work and now she gained weight, eating her feelings away."

"Fuck Hughie you should see her without clothes, man, I’ll turn off the light just to fuck her.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N is amazing, I don’t see a difference from my best friend in high school.” Hughie spoke soft. "You liked her curves back then" “Then you need glasses buddy. She was perfect then, but now? Na-ah.” Jack said standing up.

Y/N heard the chair moving, not wanting to get caught sneaking around, she took a step back and turned quickly. She stumbled, and bumped into Ben, whose silent figure stood behind her.

He looked down at her, she could swear she could see the pity in his eyes. “E-excuse me.” she whispered before wanting to pass him, to hide in the bedroom. But Jack just opened the door to the hall looking at Ben and Y/N standing close looking in each other's eyes.

“Sweety, it’s dinner time. Why don’t you get started, I’m sure our guests are hungry.” Jack’s voice changed to this normal caring guy. “I’ll be right there.” She said holding back tears, rushing to the kitchen.

Leaving Ben in the hall alone.

Y/N's heart felt heavy with the weight of her own vulnerability as she retreated to the kitchen. Her movements were slow, weighed down by the echoes of Jack's hurtful words and the ache of betrayal that lingered in the air.

Ben's gaze followed her every move, his eyes tracing the curve of her silhouette he couldn’t see what Jack’s problem was. Lost in her own thoughts, Y/N was unaware of the dark fantasies that danced behind Ben's eyes, the primal urges that stirred within him at the sight of her curves.

In that moment, she was nothing more than a muse, a tantalizing vision that fuelled his desires. When she walked out the kitchen to put the food on the table their eyes meet for a split second.

He found himself imagining what it would be like if she were his girl. She seemed like wifey material to him, something he wanted once long, long time ago. She cooks, the house is clean and is probably a firecracker in the bedroom.

His thoughts wandered into forbidden territory, his mind conjuring vivid images of running his hands over her soft skin, of tracing the contours of her body with eager fingers. He imagined the taste of her lips, kneading her skin, the sound of her voice as she whispered his name in the heat of passion.

As the dinner was served Jack decided to bring out the good stuff to drink. It wasn’t everyday two superheroes were joining you at dinner. As Jack's words slurred with each sip of alcohol, “So, soldier boy, I heard you were quite active in your days. How many women did you have?”

Ben looked up his eyes moving from Jack to Y/N and back. “I don’t keep count.” He said unimpressed. “I bet women were different then ay? You’ve seen them all, what was your favourite type? ”

Y/N felt a knot tighten in his stomach. The question was innocent enough on the surface, but the underlying implications sent a shiver down his spine. Leaving both Annie and Hughie speechless.

"Favourite type of woman, huh?" Ben's echoed his question. "I don't know, man. I guess I don't really have a type. I’ve fucked women in every decade."

But Jack was persisted, as Ben’s gaze flicking over to Y/N for a split second.

"Come on, everyone has a type. What gets you going?"

"If you put it that way, I don't mind a woman with a bit of...curves."

His words hung heavy in the air, the tension palpable as Ben's gaze lingered on Y/N, his intentions unmistakable.

Leaving Y/N blushing bright red. Jack’s discomfort grew as Ben pressed and gave even more details, while he took another bite.

"There's something...special about them, you know? The way you can feel the softness of their flesh beneath your fingertips, the way their skin yields to your touch. How you can knead their flesh while pounding into them."

He paused, his words hanging in the air as he locked eyes with Y/N, who by now was unable to look away, stunned yet ashamed. "And when you're with them," he continued, his voice growing deeper.

"There's this...intimacy that comes from seeing their bodies move, feeling the rhythm of their curves as you...as you thrust inside, and when you take them hard, there is no need to be afraid to break them."

Everyone at the table was quiet, unable to form words. “But that is just my preference.” Ben added before he placed his fork on his plate. “It is delicious.” He said to Y/N handing her his plate.

Y/N retrieved to the kitchen, cheeks blushing unable to sit across from him or besides Jack for that matter.

Her hands moving mechanically as she scrubbed at the dishes, her mind still reeling from the uncomfortable conversation at the table. She felt Ben's presence behind her, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the kitchen.

"You know, you really didn't need to do that," Y/N spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she addressed Ben still looking down at the soapy water. "Do what?" Ben's voice was gentle, tinged with curiosity as he stepped closer, his gaze fixed on her body.

Y/N sighed, setting the dish she was washing aside before turning to face him. "Defend me like that," she said, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. "You didn't have to speak up for me. I know there are a million different body types more attractive than this.”

Ben's eyes darkened as he met Y/N's gaze, a sincerity shining through the depths of his gaze. "I meant every word," he said, his voice steady and sure.

Y/N had no idea how to cope with his flirtations, trying to lose him by walking to the garage to empty the trashcan from the kitchen. Ben followed quietly, his eyes tracing the curve of her silhouette with a mixture of admiration and longing. His footsteps fell in sync with hers.

“Listen Soldier boy. I..” - “It’s Ben.” He interrupted her. “What?”

“My name is Ben, sweetheart.” - “Ok, Ben... I don’t get what you are trying to do here but... It’s not working.”

Ben’s hand moved over her mouth as he rested his index over his lips. The warmth of his hand spread a jolt of heat through her veins. For a split second she imagined how his hands would feel on her body.

“Listen.” Ben whispered.

Jack's voice, drifting through the stillness of the garage like a ghostly whisper. Y/N froze, her heart skipping a beat as the words registered in her mind.

"I miss you too, sweety" Jack's voice crackled over the phone, the desperation palpable even from a distance. "I need you, baby. I need to feel you, fuck I’m so horny. Can I see you tonight?"

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, a knot tightening in the pit of her stomach as the full weight of Jack's betrayal washed over her. She felt as though the ground had been pulled out from beneath her.

Beside her, Ben tensed, his jaw clenching with the effort to contain his anger. He had heard enough to know that Jack's infidelity ran deeper than mere words, deeper than a fleeting moment of weakness. But as he glanced at Y/N, her face pale and drawn with shock.

With a gentle touch, he reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, as they stood together in the quiet sanctuary of the garage. He could see the gears in her head spinning.

As the weight of Jack's betrayal hung heavy in the air, Ben felt a desperate need to break the tension, to lighten the suffocating atmosphere, "Well, if you're looking for payback," Ben quipped, his voice strained with forced cheerfulness, "you could always...Fuck me."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze flickering uncertainly between Ben and the ground beneath her feet. “What? No!” "I...I appreciate the offer, Ben, but...I don't think that's the answer." Her voice shook slightly.

“Your loss.” he walked back to the living room. Seeing how Jack quickly ran toward the kitchen. "I...I have to go," Jack muttered, his words tinged with a sense of urgency. "Work needs me. You understand, right?"

Y/N's gaze flickered to Ben. They both knew the truth, knew that Jack's sudden departure had nothing to do with work and everything to do with his mistress.

Y/N nodded numbly, her voice barely above a whisper as she replied, "Of course, Jack. I understand."

As the evening wore on and the house gradually quieted, Hughie and Annie bid their farewells, retreating to their room. Ben and Y/N found themselves sitting together in the dimly lit living room.

Ben shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flickering uncertainly as he struggled to find the right words to break the tension.

Y/N, too, felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her like a heavy burden.

As Y/N turned to leave the room, trying to get away of the hungry looks Ben gave her. As she bends down to grab a drink from the fridge she felt a sudden presence behind her, a warmth that sent a shiver down her spine.

Before she could react, Ben's gentle touch caressed her curves, his fingertips tracing the contours of her body. A soft gasp escaped Y/N's lips. She turned to face him, her heart pounding in her chest as she met his gaze, the intensity of his eyes sending a thrill coursing through her veins.

"How long has it been since Jack touched you?" Ben's voice was barely above a whisper, his words hanging in the air between them like a heavy weight.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her mind racing as she struggled to find the words to respond. She hadn't dared to admit it, not even to herself. "Too long," she murmured softly, her voice tinged with a mixture of longing and regret.

“Did he... satisfy you?” Ben asks, eyes still roaming her body. Y/N hesitated, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. "It's been a long time since I've felt...truly satisfied." Y/N could hear a soft growl in the back of Ben’s throat. “If you ever need...someone to make you feel truly satisfied, I'm here. Let me know."

Y/N's legs felt like jelly beneath her, her resolve weakening in the face of Ben's teasing words and the electric tension that crackled between them. She longed to give in, to surrender to the magnetic pull that drew her towards him like a moth to a flame.

Ben's playful smirk sent a thrill coursing through her veins. "Come on, Y/N," he teased, his voice low and husky close to her ear. "You know you want to give in to the temptation. Get fucked by a real man."

She thought of Jack for a second. What did she had to lose? With a hesitant smile, she leaned in closer, her lips hovering just inches from his. "Maybe I do," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

As Y/N's lips brushed against his in a fleeting kiss. Pulling back slightly, Ben's eyes met Y/N's with an intense heat, his voice a low, husky whisper that sent shivers down her spine. "You have no idea what I want to do to you. “

His gaze darkened with longing as he traced a feather-light trail down the curve of her neck, his lips hovering just inches from her skin. "I want to worship every inch of your body," he breathed, his voice thick with passion. "I want to make you feel things you've never felt before, pleasure beyond your wildest dreams."

Leaning in closer, Ben's touch grew more urgent, his hands moving with a newfound intensity as he traced the contours of her body with a fierce hunger. His fingers dug into her skin with a possessiveness that left her breathless, a silent promise of the passion to come.

"I would make you mine," he growled, his voice low and guttural with desire. "I would claim you, leaving my mark on your skin.

In a haze of desire and urgency, Ben's hands moved with a primal determination as he guided Y/N towards the bedroom, the heat of their passion fuelling their every movement. With each step, the tension between them crackled like lightning in the air.

As they reached the bedroom, Ben's fingers grew rougher, more insistent, as he tore at the fabric of her clothing from needing desire. The sound of ripping fabric echoed in the silence of the room, a symphony of urgency that drowned out all other thoughts.

His eyes traced the curves of her body with a tender appreciation, taking in every line and contour as if committing them to memory. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine admiration. She met Ben's gaze with a soft smile, her heart swelling with gratitude for his words of affirmation.

Ben pushed Y/N onto the bed with a force that left her gasping for breath, the mattress sinking beneath her weight as she landed with a soft thud. Y/N's heart raced with excitement as she felt the weight of Ben's body pressing down on her.

As Ben's hand moved between Y/N's thighs, a surge of anticipation coursed through her veins. He pressed his fingers against her skin, his touch both gentle and possessive as he explored the depths of her desire.

His fingers moved with a skilled precision, seeking out the most sensitive spots and igniting a firestorm of sensation within her. “Fucking hell doll, so wet, it really has been a while, hasn’t it?”

Y/N's breath hitched as she felt the warmth of his touch spreading through her like wildfire, every caress sending waves of pleasure coursing through her veins. She arched her back, a soft moan escaping her lips as Ben's fingers worked their magic.

And as Ben brought her to the brink of ecstasy, Y/N surrendered completely to the pleasure of the moment. "Please," she begged, her voice a desperate plea filled with longing and desire. "I need it, don’t stop..., Oh Ben.”

“Are you ready for me sweetheart? Are you going to take me like a good girl?”

She whined of need, nodding desperately wanting to feel him.

As Ben entered her, a sharp sting of pleasure and pain shot through Y/N's body, igniting a firestorm of sensation that left her gasping for breath. Her nails dug into his skin as she clung to him, her body arching towards his with a mixture of pleasure and anticipation.

The initial discomfort soon gave way to a wave of intense pleasure as Ben's movements grew more rhythmic. “Fuck you're so tight," he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he kneaded Y/N's curves. "It's like you were made for me."

His hands moved with a gentle yet possessive urgency, tracing the contours of her body with a fervour that left her trembling with pleasure.

Ben's movements became more forceful, his thrusts growing harder and more urgent as he sought to satisfy Y/N's primal desires. He grasped her tightly, his hands gripping her curves with a fierce intensity, as he pushed her towards the edge of ecstasy.

"Harder," Y/N gasped, her voice a desperate plea filled with longing and desire. "I need you to take me harder, Ben." As he complied with her pleads, he heard her hiss. “Are you ok, did I hurt you?” He slowed down. “Don’t stop... please, I love it.”

“Hmm, you like it really rough don’t you.” He bit her nipple earning another hiss that turned into a moan. “Good to know.”

Ben turned Y/N around, his movements fuelled by a raw desire that left them both gasping for breath. As she arched her back, offering herself to him completely, he couldn't resist the urge to give in to his most primal instincts.

With a swift motion, he brought his hand down on her behind with a sharp smack, the sound echoing through the room like a thunderclap. Y/N gasped in surprise, a rush of pleasure coursing through her veins at the unexpected sensation.

"Like that?" Ben growled; his voice thick with desire as he admired the red mark blossoming on her skin. "You want more?" He saw how she grabbed the sheets tight in her hands. Stretching her arms in front of her, her face against the bed.

His touch was both possessive and tender as he trailed his fingers over the sensitive flesh, his movements sending shivers of pleasure racing down her spine. Again, Ben's hand connected with Y/N's behind, the sharp smack echoing through the room as a surge of pleasure shot through her body.

"You like it, don't you... a little pain?” Without waiting for a response, he delivered another firm smack, each strike sending waves of pleasure crashing over Y/N like a tidal wave.

Ben could see the red spot on her behind forming. He leaned in, grabbing her breasts tight, pulling her back onto her hands, while his hips pounded hard against her. The sound of flesh hitting flesh mingled in the air with Y/N’s moans.

As the hours passed and their passion reached new heights, Ben and Y/N found themselves lost in a haze of desire, their bodies entwined in a symphony of ecstasy. Ben heard Jack getting inside the house.

Ben loved the idea of showing him how well Y/N could take him. "Do you...want more?" Y/N, lost in the throes of passion, was oblivious to the presence of her boyfriend in the house. With a pornographic moan of pleasure, she nodded eagerly.

With a silent nod, Ben's gaze darkened with desire as he moved to fulfil Y/N's request. There was a primal urgency in the air as he repositioned himself.

Her throat covered with his hand, his muscles tense with anticipation as he prepared to give her exactly what she craved. "How do you want me?" he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire.

"Hard," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with undeniable conviction. "I want you hard." With a silent growl of determination, Ben surrendered himself completely to the intensity of the moment. Ben knew there was no way Jack didn’t hear the bed.

As Y/N's body trembled with the waves of her climax, screaming his name when he didn’t stop. Ben felt a surge of primal desire course through him. Ben whispered hoarsely, "Again. I need you to give me one more. Come on... You can do it doll."

Ben leaned in close to Y/N while his eyes locked on the door when he noticed Jack standing there. His eyes lit with anger, but something in Ben’s gaze made him leave instead of bursting in anger.

Before he closed the door, he heard Ben "Does Jack take you like this?" His voice dripping with raw desire. "Does he make you scream his name the way you're screaming mine right now?" Leaving him standing outside the door, listening with the door in his hand.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat at the intensity of his words, her body trembling with a heady mix of excitement and apprehension. "No," she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. "No one makes me feel like you do, Ben. Only you... Oh fuck!"

"Maybe I need to teach Jack a lesson," he said sucking on her neck. "Show him how to take care of you, fuck you the way you deserve." With a fierce possessiveness, Ben lifted Y/N's head, his fingers wrapping around her neck in a firm grip. As he continued to pound deep within her.

In that moment of ecstasy, as Y/N's body arched beneath his touch, Ben's voice was a low, husky growl in her ear. "Look," he murmured, his words a whisper against her skin. "Look who's watching."

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, and through the haze of pleasure, she saw Jack standing there. But in that moment, she was too far gone, too consumed by the intensity of her pleasure to care.

With a primal cry of release, Y/N surrendered herself completely to the ecstasy of the moment, her body trembling with the force of her climax.

Ben felt his release building, a wave of ecstasy threatening to consume him completely. As he approached the brink of climax. "Where do you want me?" he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Tell me."

"Inside," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath but filled with undeniable conviction. "I want you inside me." With a primal roar of satisfaction, Ben surrendered himself to the feeling, Y/N felt how he filled her up, while he clenched to her body.

As they both came down from their high, she looked back at the door. “Fuck.” She whispered while getting up to clean herself up in the attached bathroom. “You sound almost guilty.” Ben said as he stood behind her, his hand caressing her behind, fingertips moving over the red marks he left.

“He is the fucker who didn’t see the potential in you, doll. He got what he deserved.” - “I know... but I didn’t want him to see us.” Ben chuckles, his hand moved to her overstimulated core between her legs.

“Are you telling me you regret it?” He asked, Y/N turned to look at Ben. “What? No, are you kidding me... It felt amazing.” - “Good” he mumbled his lips against her neck, beard softly scratching her skin, while pulling her closer to him.

“Because I'm not done yet. “

Taglist: @yvonneeeee

Let me know what you think, feel free to like, share or comment. Make sure you check out my masterlist.

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waynes-multiverse · 25 days

Text

Polaris – Chapter 1

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, fluff, angst, hints to a slight drinking problem, mentions of murder, serial killers, divorce & death, set after & before the events of season 3

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: Welcome to another series, loves! I'm so excited to share this one! 🤍 You may read the Dirty Drabble that inspired it first, but there's references to the events of it throughout. Enjoy, babes! 😉

Huge special thanks to @blackcherrywhiskey, @deans-spinster-witch, @roseblue373 & @ladysparkles78 💚 for kicking my ass to write a whole series from that little one shot. I know y'all wanted me to bring the smut, and while I certainly did that, I couldn't resist bringing the angst. And well, once that angsty stone started to roll, it couldn't be stopped and downhill it all went... 😝 I usually do slow burns, so starting off hot and going in reverse for once was such a fun change!

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 1: Caught Up In A Moment

September 2023

One. Two. Three.

At the third knock, your bare feet sprinted to the motel room door from the bathroom, a towel still in hand as you dried your damp hair.

“Coming!” you called out and twisted the knob, opening the door with a keen smile.

Beau stood in front of you in all his glory – washed jeans Sherpa jacket, a button-up in your favorite color, and some tight denim clad his muscular bow legs. That man always effortlessly took your breath away when he really shouldn’t.

A cocked brow graced his features as he eyed you from head to toe, a smile twitching on his plump, kissable lips underneath the scruffy beard. “You open the door always like this, darlin’?”

The familiar drawl made your knees weak. Back home, the accent was nothing special, but his deep timbre of a voice that made your bones tremble surely was. The combination of the two was heaven-sent and hell-bent.

“I just got out of the shower.” You shrugged innocently, your golden halo swinging with your sinful hips.

As you rubbed the rest of your hair dry, your black silk robe swayed with the movement of your legs before you leisurely discarded the used towel on your bed and waited for the handsome sheriff to follow you inside.

“Brought you something,” Beau said and wiggled a thick folder over his head as he walked in, closing the door behind him with a kick of his boot. He ceremoniously slapped the file on the small desk in your room.

Your lips curved into a sly grin. “Oh? Almost feels like my birthday, Mr. President.”

Beau let out a hearty laugh, showing off the endearing crinkles around his shimmering green eyes. “I think you’ve got something confused there, darlin’. It was Kennedy’s birthday.”

“Huh, so I’m the president and you’re my Marilyn?” you teased.

“Oh, I’ll happily be your Marilyn,” he said with a cheeky smile.

As your fingers eagerly leafed through the file, you could feel Beau’s breath fanning against your neck as he came to stand behind you, shiny leather boots plodding on sordid motel carpet. The hair on your skin saluted him as goosebumps rose.

You could smell his cologne as it tingled your nose, bergamot and cedar mixed with a hint of vanilla flooding your senses and washing a sea of memories into your mind. Memories you wished were lost and never found.

Postponing the deep dive to tomorrow, your eyes only skimmed over the contents of the folder. But just as you suspected, the victimology and modus operandi were all too familiar. You’d seen this before, and it wasn’t good.

You’d be here for a while.

“And?” Beau’s voice broke you from your thoughts before you felt his fingertips softly brushing the flesh on your hips. An electric shudder ran down your spine at his touch, your mind on the fritz.

“Definitely my jurisdiction,” you replied and closed the file.

Moaning with pleasure, you felt his lips on your neck, kissing a pathway down to your shoulder. One of your hands wandered up and tangled in his thick, luscious locks, grabbed and tugged until he groaned against the shell of your ear. You still managed to blab about the case with strained concentration.

“There’s been similar cases in, uhm… Texas… Utah… Colorado… Wyoming… and now here.”

“Hmm,” Beau hummed, not letting himself be disturbed. The vibrations of his voice thrummed against the column of your throat.

Your cunt clenched; you could feel the rising wetness between your legs and the growing bulge against your ass.

A large hand brushed stealthily across your stomach and snaked past the silk fabric to grab a generous breast, squeezing the tender flesh and tweaking the nipple between his thumb and a finger. His hardening cock pressed at the crack between your buttcheeks, your arousal dripping down your thighs.

A second palm wandered to your front but was bound southward this time. His digits pried apart your folds, two of them running through your slick with a growl in your ear before slipping inside your pussy. A whimper left your lips as you braced your palms on the surface in front of you for support, your legs threatening to buckle under the pressure.

But Beau wasn’t going to let you fall, his grip like a vice around you as he held you flush against his chest, hot breath tickling your earlobe and beard burning your cheek. You moaned his name with a few expletives as he thrust his fingers in and out of your soaked channel.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn wet. Want you to come for me,” he husked into your ear and pushed his erection even more against your ass. Your pussy clenched around him. “Yeah, that’s it. Squeeze those fingers like you’ll squeeze my cock… It’s been too fucking long. Wanna finally fill you, darlin’.”

“God, yes,” you whined in agreement as the coil in your belly tightened with each plunge into your heat.

He curled his knuckles and expertly thumbed your clit, making you cry out. His strokes became harder, your breathing grew labored. Your body quaked with each thrust, cunt throbbing around his fingers.

“Fuck,” you moaned as the heel of his palm rubbed your clit, igniting the fuse to the fireworks in your belly. Your explosion could be seen in the sky from miles away without binoculars.

“I gotcha,” Beau whispered as a strong arm wrapped around your ribcage, your pussy pulsing with his fingers deep inside you. Brushing your damp hair to one side of your neck, his teeth sunk into your shoulder as you steadied in his embrace.

“You’d think as the sheriff, you’d care a little more that a serial killer is running around and murdering citizens of your county,” you teased breathlessly.

“Oh, I’m not worried,” Beau said simply, removing his wet fingers from your drenched cunt.

You lifted an eyebrow at him and bit down on your lower lip. “No?”

“Nope, not since you’re here,” Beau quipped and kissed your shoulder blade. “I know you won’t rest till you got that bastard all nicely cuffed up.”

You huffed a laugh. “Wow, you’ve got a lot of confidence in me, huh?”

“You betcha. Got nothin’ to do with confidence, either. I just know you, darlin’,” Beau stated with a cocksure grin and palmed one cheek of your ass as he rutted against you.

“Beau, fuck… I still have to lock the folder into the safe,” you managed to say, your mind in a haze of desire as your pussy whined in starving anticipation.

“C’mon, who’s gonna steal it, huh?” he muttered against your skin. “Would be a damn fool to break into a room with a sheriff and a federal agent.”

“You can never be too careful,” you argued lightly.

“Says the woman who can’t lock a damn door,” Beau sassed with a chuckle and threw you a raised look as he spun you in his embrace.

You laughed, your cheeks blushing when you were reminded of your little unfortunate adventure at lunch. Your arms draped around his neck as his hands wandered to your lower back, the two of you gently swaying from side to side.

“I’m sorry, okay? I told you. I thought it was locked.”

“Uh-huh.” Beau chuckled, shaking his head. “You’d think with all those criminals running around, you’d know better.”

“Look, the Academy doesn’t technically teach us how to lock doors, just how to kick ‘em in, alright?” you retorted. He pecked the tip of your nose, flashing you a grin. “Is your deputy, okay? I felt bad. He looked traumatized. You know, he couldn’t look me in the eye when I left.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Beau laughed and rubbed his bearded chin before his palm moved back to its original place on the small of your back. “As soon as his shift was over, he bolted straight outta there. But Papa Smurf will be fine. Don’t worry about it,” he assured you with a warm smile that could melt several hearts. It sure did yours. “You do know, though, I’ll get teased for this, right?”

“I know.” You laughed and buried your face in his chest upon Beau’s playful glare. He pursed his lips as his cheeks flushed with color before placing a kiss on your crown. “I’m sorry. Maybe no one knows?”

“Y/N, this ain’t Houston. This is a small town. Everyone knows by now,” Beau reminded you with a small laugh.

Guiltily, you looked up at him and bit your lower lip, one corner of your mouth tugging upwards into a smirk. “I’ll make it up to you?”

“Oh?”

On tiptoes, you then nuzzled your nose against his, hands traveling from his neck to his cheeks as you tenderly caressed his beard and felt his breathing quicken. Your gazes locked. You got lost in pine green.

His fingers played with a wet strand of your hair, a smile fluttering on his mouth as he tucked it back behind your ear. His palm wandered to the back of your head and pulled you to his lips. The first kiss was tender and hesitant, like a kid testing the temperature of the ocean with its big toe before fully diving inside and getting carried away by the waves.

The kiss grew needier and rougher as he pushed you back until you hit the edge of the small desk in your room. Effortlessly, strong arms lifted you on the surface, your bare buttcheeks feeling the worn wood underneath. It was too easy for you two to fall back into an old rhythm.

“This is very handy, by the way,” Beau said with a smirk as his fingers opened the loosely tied bow of your robe and revealed your naked body underneath.

“Thought you’d appreciate it,” you purred as he slid the silky material off your shoulders, letting it billow around your waist.

“Oh, I do, darlin’,” he rasped, his voice loaded with lust, nibbling along your jaw. His mouth wandered down to your throat, sucking the skin purple and blue before he claimed your first breast, his tongue rolling over your nipple until it peaked.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered breathily, your head lolling back as he worshipped your body, running a river of kisses from your collarbone to the end of your ribcage. “Need you inside me, please.”

It had been so long, you had almost forgotten how good he was at making you come undone. Or better said, you had tried to forget it on purpose.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” Beau growled huskily in your ear.

Cupping his cheeks, you needily brought him back to your lips, your breathing ragged between a dance of tongues. His kisses were addictive; one taste and you were hooked. Consumption became an obsession.

Your hands climbed down his body, unbuckled belt and unzipped jeans, palming his massively hard cock that only grew even larger in your hand. Everything was indeed bigger in fucking Texas.

While you popped every button of his maroon shirt, he slipped out of his jacket and boxers, his erection springing against his stomach. It was perfectly wide and long, dangerously able to stretch you to your fullest. Your mouth watered, the taste of him still fresh in your mind.

His shirt joined the graveyard of clothes on the floor as your legs wrapped around his waist. He positioned his head at your waiting entrance, catching your gaze as he pushed inside, sheathing his cock fully in your soaking channel.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he groaned and rested his head on your shoulder as he momentarily stilled when he was at your deepest. He inhaled your scent and memorized every note like a love song. His lips bit and soothed your skin in a vicious cycle. There was no escaping him.

His harmless words caused a sting in your chest, however, cutting deeper than any knife could. You tried to ignore the dulled pain, reminding you of your oath to keep it casual this time. Your heart couldn’t get dragged back into his mess. Once was enough for a lifetime.

Beau had a punch list. You had a forget-about-him list.

A part of you doubted your decision to come here. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe no amount of time would ever be enough.

Beau grabbed you tightly and carried you to the bed, your legs still wrapped around him, still connected with him inside of you. Your back touched the light sheets underneath you as his weight heavily laid on top of you, pressing him further into you until you felt him at the spot you loved so much.

“Oh, fuck,” you mewled as he moved your thigh over his shoulder and thrust even deeper inside of you, filling you to the brim. It felt like he had remembered every move, everything you’d ever loved.

His hips then began to snap faster. Harder. He bottomed out each and every time. You felt him everywhere, your nerve endings catching fire as the flames inside you rose, climbed and burned down walls.

Beau could feel you were close, and he was right there with you. His hand snaked between your sweat-clad bodies and found your sensitive spot once more, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit till he pushed you over the cliff and you lost sight of the shore.

Ocean. Waves… Your boat capsized and got lost in them.

His lips sought out yours. His kiss was deep and passionate and lasting as his hips stilled, spilling his release inside of you with a guttural grunt. Your muscles trembled, your pussy tight and throbbing around his cock, and yet, still craving more. He was the worst drug you’d ever known.

As he slipped out of you and rolled next to you, both of you were panting heavily on the mattress. You stared at the water-stained ceiling above you, your skin glistening and sticky.

Chuckling, Beau ran a hand through his hair and whistled lowly. “Man… this was… wow,” he said and opened his arm, inviting you into his embrace.

“Yeah,” you breathed in agreement, your cheeks flushed as a blissful smile haunted your features. As your head rested safely on his chest, you listened to his heartbeat, steady and reliant, and concentrated on his tender and calm caresses on your arm.

“You know, I really did miss this,” he told you and placed another affectionate kiss on top of your head.

“Me too,” you admitted quietly and felt your heart crack a little more.

“You know, this kinda reminds me of that night in that shabby motel in Mexico,” Beau reminisced with a soft laugh. “Not Juárez but, uhm… Culiacán! Minus the food poisoning.”

“Sure as hell taught me to never eat tacos from some shady street truck again, no matter how hungry a stake-out makes me,” you agreed, chortling.

“Yeah, pretty damn sure that wasn’t beef,” Beau added. “Tasted like armadillo.”

Amused, you lifted a brow. “How do you know what armadillo tastes like?”

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know,” he replied and shuddered in disgust to drive the point home.

Laughing came easy with Beau. During stormy times, his heart was your lighthouse, burning in the distance. But then, it suddenly wasn’t one day, swallowed by fog and leaving you surrounded by darkness. Walking down memory lane also reminded you of that – the times when your tears could fill an ocean.

Moving out of his arms, you left the familiar and irresistible warmth and grabbed one of your navy FBI shirts from your duffel bag, pulling it over your head. Soon you found a pair of gray sweatpants as well. With each clothing item, you added another layer over your heart.

Beau watched you get dressed in silence, feeling you pull back from him. His heart twinged with anguish; his soul throbbed with longing. It was rare that he was at a loss for words, but you had a habit of leaving him speechless.

Softly, he cleared his throat to catch your attention and get you out of your head. “I meant what I said today, you know? I want you to stay, Y/N. Even when this case is over. I was serious about that.”

“I know.” You nodded, an amused snort involuntarily escaping your throat. “Just hard to believe, I guess… especially with Carla being available again.”

You bit your tongue and closed your eyes as the words slipped out of your mouth. You didn’t mean to, but it did.

“Y/N–”

You quickly turned around and faced him, doing your best at damage control. “Beau, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Beau said and shook his head.

He grabbed his clothes from the floor, feeling his time with you quickly coming to an end. He wanted to at least be dressed in case he had to chase after you. He figured one naked public outing per day was enough for Helena’s sheriff.

“Look, let’s just talk about it. Get it all out in the open, alright?”

“Beau, really, I get it. You don’t have to explain,” you replied in an attempt to brush him off.

“Yes, I do,” Beau insisted as he slid back into his jeans and buttoned his shirt, his gaze drilling into yours and pleading with you. Rising from the bed, he stalked closer to you. “A lot’s changed since the last time we saw each other. I told you. I moved here to be closer to Em.”

You rolled your eyes back and scoffed. Carding a hand through your hair, you spun on your heel in disbelief. You had to take a moment before looking at him again. “Are you kidding me right now?”

Beau sighed and conceded, hands held high in defense in case you fired another shot. “Alright, I hear ya. Maybe that wasn’t entirely true… initially. But it certainly is now, alright? It’s more complicated than you think. It just-… There’s so much I need to tell you… Carla and I… that’s over. Resolved, okay? Trust me. You don’t need to be worried.”

“I’m not worried!” you lied. Badly, might you add, but you didn’t care if he believed you or not. You let out a deep sigh and tried a calmer approach. “Look, uhm, maybe this was a bad idea. We shouldn’t have–… We-, we got caught up in a moment. I mean, that’s our thing, right? It doesn’t mean anything. Let’s just concentrate on the case and then go our separate ways again, alright?”

“Don’t do this, Y/N. Don’t push me to the sidelines,” Beau contended firmly. “It does mean something. It never didn’t. You know that.”

“Do I? I didn’t push you anywhere, Beau. You’re the one who left,” you snapped and unapologetically shrugged your shoulders once the words escaped. You held back the tears that brimmed in your eyes. The afterglow evaporated. Soberly, you walked to the door and nodded towards the exit. “I think you should go… After all, it’s what you do best.”

Beau smacked his lips, his brow creasing as he averted his green eyes and thoughtfully glanced out the window, his hands resting on his squared-off hips. You knew it was a low blow, but you couldn’t stop yourself, either. It was the truth, and sometimes it hurt to hear it.

Nodding, he scratched his beard. “Alright, I’ll go, but we’re not done,” he said resolutely. Internally, you sighed. You forgot they grew quite stubborn in Texas, too. “Look, I know I’ve made mistakes. I screwed up a lot… especially with you. But I’m not giving up… He wouldn’t want me to.”

With that, he walked out the door. As it closed behind him, you exhaled a deep and long breath. Looking out the window, your eyes drifted from the parking lot and gazed up at the famous big sky above you.

You found yourself fascinated by the twinkling spots of light in the midnight blue. Pensively, you glanced down at your hand and twisted the golden band on your ring finger. Your eyes then found one of the brightest stars in the dark night sky, Polaris, hoping it would guide your sinking ship back home.

September 2021

“This is the most boring stake-out ever,” you complained and blew a raspberry in frustration, leaning back against the metal hood of the car as the Milky Way shone brightly above you and the cicadas chirped their song in the distance.

You had parked the SUV on top of a plateau in the middle of the Chihuahuan desert somewhere in Mexico, overlooking a cartel hideout, but far enough away to not be spotted.

“Yeah, I don’t think they’re coming tonight. We better check that intel again tomorrow,” Beau said with a sigh and took off his cowboy hat, laying it on the hood behind him.

“I’ll talk to my CI again,” you replied and sighed as well, your eyes feeling more tired than they’d ever been. It had been a long few months and sleeping wasn’t exactly high on your priority list.

Beau nodded and ran a hand through his hair, scratching his head in impatient irritability. He then pulled out a silver flask from the inner pocket of his Sherpa jacket and took a big swig.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “We’re still on the job, you know?”

He stared straight ahead, not daring to look at you as the crescent moon hung high above him. “Yeah, so?”

“Nothin’.” You shrugged, not wanting to start a fight or upset him. “Just noticed you’ve been doing that a lot lately. Since the funeral… It’s not like you.”

“Yeah, well, things change,” he said bitterly and took another sip.

“I worry about you,” you confessed quietly, the concern shimmering in your eyes.

At that, he finally turned his head and caught your gaze. “Don’t. You’ve got enough to worry about. You don’t need me on your list.”

“Well, it’s too late for that,” you said and sent him a small smile. “In fact, all I do is worry about you. You’re the only thing on the list, actually.”

“Hmm… I guess it’s nice to know that at least someone cares,” he muttered and drank again.

“Oh, don’t gimme that! Stop with the sulking and the feeling sorry for yourself,” you chided and sat up straight, getting a better look at him as you leaned your arms on your knees. “Did you talk to her since… you know?”

He threw you a sideways glance, lifting a brow. “Since we signed the divorce papers? Nope,” he replied and popped the p, taking another swig.

“Maybe it’s not too late. Just talk to her,” you repeated words you’d said a thousand times by now. “That’s all she wants, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Beau nodded quietly, a thick swallow stuck in his throat as he stared at the desolate landscape ahead.

“You talk to me about it. I’m sure Carla would understand,” you added.

“I talk to you ‘cause I got no choice. You deserved to know how I fucked up. ‘Sides, you were already knee-deep in this shit. No stoppin’ ya,” Beau said. His eyes found yours briefly before he averted his gaze again.

“I prefer shoulder-deep,” you joked lightheartedly. Then, the familiar heaviness returned, weighing down your chest, your heart aching. “Feels like quicksand around my throat.”

“Yeah,” Beau agreed quietly, tongue swiping across his lips. “That’s why I don’t want her anywhere near this. With Carla… I have a choice.”

“She’s a defense attorney. She’s seen some shit, you know?” you pointed out. “I mean, is it really worth losing your family over?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Beau said stoically. He then let out a humorless laugh that you couldn’t place before putting the flask to his lips again.

“Okay, enough. Gimme that,” you snapped and grabbed the silver container from him, swallowing down a big gulp. You grimaced in disgust, everything in your body shuddering at the awful taste. “Dear fucking Lord! What the hell is that?”

In response, he snorted and gave you a passive twitch of his shoulders. “Little bit of everything I could find in the motel minibar.”

“Ew! You’re pathetic,” you retorted with a crinkle of your nose and meant it partially as a joke. You had always bantered like this, but this time, he took you by your word.

“Yeah, that’s what Carla said, too,” he belittled himself.

“Okay, stop with the pity party. I can’t take any more of this sad face you’ve got going on there,” you remarked with a huff. It broke your own heart to see his shattered like this. You missed his sunny laugh and the endless bad jokes and the nonstop chatter. He’d always been a good man, despite this newfound darkness of his, and deserved better.

“Well, get used to it. It ain’t going anywhere,” Beau replied, much to your dismay.

“Fine,” you relented and let out a sigh.

Silence fell between you two, only filled by the cicadas and the coyotes roaming about. Thoughtfully, you stared up at the beautiful night sky and spied a shooting star, feeling almost silly for daring to make a wish.

“Randy always said you should fight for the things that are worth fighting for,” Beau’s voice finally broke the silence. “Never give up.”

You peeled your eyes away from the stars above and looked at him. You chuckled softly at the memory. “Yeah, that sounds like him. He was annoyingly persistent like that.”

“I just don’t know if it’s worth it, I guess,” he said quietly.

“Of course it is,” you insisted. “You love Emily and Carla. They’re your family.”

“I’ve let them down… I’ve let a lotta people down, actually,” Beau said, and you could feel his eyes on you from your periphery.

“It’s been a tough year,” you said sympathetically.

“It has,” he agreed soberly and turned his gaze to the night sky above you. “You know what star this is?”

“The North Star, right?” you guessed, following his gaze to the Little Dipper constellation.

“Yeah, Polaris. It’s fixed in the sky while everything else moves ‘round it. It’s supposed to help you find your way when you’re lost,” he explained. “True north.”

“You’ll find your way again,” you told him confidently and nudged his shoulder, giving him a small but encouraging smile. “No one’s blaming you for what happened, Beau, so give yourself some grace, okay?”

He nodded, swallowing harshly as he met your gaze. “Thank you.”

Confused, you furrowed your brow. “For what?”

“Not leaving when you should’ve…”

You smiled softly. “We’re friends… and trauma bonded. I’d never do that to you.”

Beau matched your smile, but you could see the tears stinging in the corners of his forest-green eyes as the sadness overwhelmed him. “Shit,” he cursed, burying his face in his palms. He sniffed.

Concerned, your brows drew together. You laid your hand on his shoulder and gingerly stroked his back. “Beau, what’s going on?”

“I can’t…” He struggled for words, shook his head. Whatever was on his mind, he refused to voice it. His lower lip quivered before he covered his mouth with his palm, running a hand over his beard. Then, a sad smile grazed his face. “You know, I always thought Randy was the luckiest bastard alive.”

“Why?”

Beau didn’t respond. Instead, he closed the distance between you until his lips crashed against yours. You were shocked for a moment, froze down to your core. But then your hands found his cheeks and reflexively pulled him closer, a magnet you had no power over.

His hands did much the same, needily roaming your body and holding you flush against his own. His tongue hungrily slipped inside and devoured yours, tasting like the contents of the flask. Tequila, whiskey, and vodka were only a few you could decipher, but now the aftertaste was heaven instead of hell.

The kiss lasted till your head spun, a lack of oxygen forcing him to withdraw. It could’ve been chalked up to a drunken misstep, a glitch in the fabric of the universe that could’ve been swallowed by a black hole just as suddenly as it happened. But for you, it was enough to turn your whole world upside down and toss your planet out of orbit.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispered, his breath ghosting against your lips. The further he retreated, the more you could see the battle raging in his mind. “Fuck,” he cursed and clasped his mouth with his palm.

He jumped off the hood and walked a few suicidal-crazed steps towards the cliff, his back standing like a tall wall between you. You watched his shoulders tense as his gaze drifted upwards to the sky. It seemed like he was praying.

Your fingers touched your kiss-swollen lips, hot and yearning for more. There was a tug on your heart, a rope lassoed around the muscle that pulled you to him.

“Beau?”

Your call of his name forced him to face you. An apologetic and torn look pervaded his features as he fought a combat in his mind and wrung with the feelings in his heart.

“It’s okay,” you said gently.

He met your eyes, a shimmer of hope in his as a glimpse of a smile twitched on his lips. Something you hadn’t seen in well over a year. It was so delicate, you weren’t sure it wasn’t a malfunction. A damn counterfeit.

“How?” His question hung from the moon with despair.

“I don’t know.”

He stared at you for a moment, the hesitation behind his eyes still prominent. You felt the magnetic pull again, and you could tell that he felt it, too.

And then, with a few strides, he was in front of you, hands in your hair as he claimed your lips in a scorching kiss that set your entire world on fire. You sunk into him, forever lost in a cosmos of green, sucked in by his gravity, air gone from your lungs, and feet never touching ground again.

Beau sat in his car in the quiet parking lot of the motel, his gaze wandering up to the night sky above as he thoughtfully rubbed his chin. His other hand rested on the steering wheel, fingers tapping.

The same old war waged in his mind. Guilt filled his heart and bubbled to the surface. He debated whether he should turn the ignition or knock on your door. He always felt torn, unsure if you were a mistake or the best damn thing of his life.

His green eyes then fixed on the North Star, praying it would show him the way to your heart once more. This time, he swore to whoever was listening that he wouldn’t lose it. He’d keep it safe.

‘Cause the first time he kissed you, it surely changed everything for him.

Chapter 2: No Signs, No Compasses – MAY 8

If you've caught my not-so-subtle hints throughout this, you can already smell the drama and angst this series has in store for you 😂

Any ideas who Y/N is yet? Let me know in the comments 😏🤍

Hope you enjoyed this smangsty introduction!

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thesilmarillionblog · 8 days

Text

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 3

Click here to read the first part!

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, hurt, cruel Soldier Boy, reader gets hurt, mention of violence, betrayal, Soldier Boy being a dick, reader is a supe, Crimson Countess is a bitch

Word Count: 2194

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

Ben’s lips parted to say something when you told him that he would never hear you saying those three words again, but he clenched his jaw, and his eyes sharpened with fury.

“Don’t even bother, because those words already mean nothing to me.”

You caught him looking at your lips for a second, but he let go of your chin immediately and pulled himself together like he would kiss you if he waited for another second. His unreadable face was filling your heart with hope since you knew he would be far more different if he really didn’t like you at all as he told.

You walked over to him and gently touched his rough hand, asking, “Then why does it make you mad when I tell you I would leave Payback? If you don't really care at all, why do you want me here with your side so much that you threat me with hurting Noir? Ben, please be honest with yourself, at least. I know you won't be honest with me.”

You looked at him with desperation, pleading him with your eyes and touched his hand like you could never get that chance again. You didn’t understand what exactly caused his soft side to slip in your hands so suddenly, so sharp. What had happened to you exactly? You knew it wasn’t about Crimson or someone else, but you didn’t know the cause behind why you failed to solve the true reason behind all this pain.

You withdrew your hands just before he pushed them away. When you posed those questions, he seemed so confused and lost that you nearly thought he would finally crack and put a stop to the cruelty between you going on. Since you were aware that he wasn't good at expressing his true feelings from the very beginning, you were willing to push him a little. You would fight for it if you had to be the one to help him overcome his inner demons and open himself.

“I won't be giving a fuck seeing you fucking go away if I find a stronger supe than you,” he simply said.

You answered, “Neither the team nor you need a strong one,” knowing what he was talking about was just another lie. “Ben, you never care who is powerful or not as you know you are strongest. Your ego is too big to care about what other people are capable of.”

“What on earth should I tell you to get off my ass and stop bothering the Countess and me, huh, Y/N?” He inquired, showing no interest in what you had to say. It didn't even seem like he was paying attention to what you were saying. “I'm warning you; don't talk to me about love or other bullshit again.”

He retreated a step, sat on the couch, and sniffed the cocaine on the table before his eyes darkened. When your lips parted to respond, he lifted his hand menacingly, to prevent you from say another thing to make him angrier.

He yelled, “Shut the fuck up,” and started sniffing coke before you did, startling you with his unexpected outburst. “Do you think you know me? Are you fucking naïve?”

You also raised your voice, but it was rather shaky, saying, “I do know you.” You eventually lost patience with his attitude because of how much his persistence was getting on your nerves.

“You’re a fucking naïve then,” he chuckled, but his tone was rather angry than amusing. “Get the fuck out of here and leave me alone.”

You turned away, your eyes watering, and opened the door without saying a word to Ben, fearing that he would become enraged since he was too busy getting high like a real jerk. You heard Countess's voice in the distance. She gave you a tiny smirk to irritate you, as she usually does, but you left the trailer without looking at her and without creating any drama.

After a few weeks, you gave up attempting to get in touch with Ben because you could tell he was preoccupied with all the dumb advertisements and other bullshit. You also stopped participating in anything Payback-related, even though you were still required to perform these things along with the rest of the team. You informed Earving that you were completely well and needed some time for yourself, despite the fact that he had visited your home numerous times to check on you.

But it was a lie. You were either ill or simply lovesick. You had a difficult time falling asleep since you could recall every last detail of Ben and Crimson's interactions. They appeared in every movie, television show, and advertisement. It didn't matter if you simply vanished; you couldn't run away from your own sentiments that were killing you or their reality.

Earving told you that Ben was becoming crueler and harsher to him and the rest of the crew every day, but you couldn't really care because you were most likely going through the worst.

After a month, you were compelled to flee your home due to a terrorist attack, and all of the members required you on the battlefield. Ben was busy commanding the soldiers haphazardly, using heavy and hazardous weapons like toys, and showing off his whole range of abilities to them with an arrogant smile on his face.

He was taken aback to see you because you were the last person to enter the territory. Ben walked up to you with a sneaky smile on his face after he dropped the rifle on one of the twins from his shoulder, but you turned your back on him and continued talking to some soldiers to give him courage because you didn't want to hear what Ben was about to say to distress and upset you any more.

You were desperately missing Ben and were helpless for any kind of interaction or words to rekindle your already fading hope, but you were also proud. You were aware of everything that happened between you, and excepted the turth that the wonderful memories between him and you had long faded. More than anyone you didn't get to know, he was more of a stranger than any stranger. You were certain there was nothing left in you for him to break because he had broken your heart so many times. Struggling to change the past and pushing yourself too hard will only exacerbate your situation. You knew the pain wouldn’t fully disappear soon, but it would ease by time.

He didn't move again once you turned your back to him, indicating that you were right to let it go.

After Ben tormented him more severely than ever on your third day on the battlefield, Noir's patience ran out, and he kept saying Ben that he didn't deserve to be a leader and that he was simply a bully on cocaine. Despite your attempts to dissuade Earving from approaching Ben too closely and to push him back before things got physical, he was adamant about ending Ben's leadership.

“You don’t deserve to be the the leader of Payback. All you do is getting high and bullying all of us. All people here looking at us with hatred, not respect and the reasson behind this all is that we don’t have a respectful leader,” Earving said raising his voice.

Knowing that Ben was pretty nerveous espcially nowadays and fearing he was already ready to hurt anyone in the squad, you pushed Noir by his chest back trying to calm him down. He was right about everything, but it wasn’t the way to solve this mess Ben caused. Besides, no one would stand a chance against Soldier Boy. After all, he was indeed the strongest supe.

“Noir, please calm down,” you whispered him as if no one would hear you. “Don’t do this.”

Your body clenched with terror, knowing that he would be severely wounded by Ben, who was already looking for a small excuse to beat him up. Earving was digging his own grave for sure.

“What’s wrong with you?” Earving suddenly snapped, pushing your hands from him. “Why do you even support him?”

“Violence with get you nowhere,” you said sharply, implying he must stop or he’ll be the one to get hurt.

“And what the fuck will you do about this, huh?” Ben asked with an evil smirk on his face. “You just fucking disrespected me, you fucking weak fuckface. All you do is whining like a newborn baby yet you crave for respect and all shit.”

When you saw Ben make a move to face Earving, you stopped between them to prevent what was to come. Some soldiers were watching you all with curiosity, and some with fear.

“Ben,” you said with a serious tone. “Let’s not make a scene and let others talk behind you. How can they even respect you if you lay a hand on one of us? This won’t be good for your reputation; you know this.”

Instead of taking a step back and pressing his anger down, your effort to save Noir made him see red.

“Will you now fucking defend him against me?” Ben glared at your hands, which were tightly gripping his suit, and said, “Step fucking aside or you'll get hurt first.”

As you take a step back, you realize how you came so close to Ben without recognizing it, despite your repeated assurances to yourself to keep away from him. He had done many things to you lately, but it was the first time he threatened you with such severity.

Just as you are about to react, you hear Crimson approaching Ben.

Placing a touch on Earving's arm, you showed your understanding and concern for him when you noticed him fisting his fists and standing motionless. It was Ben's harsh attitude toward nothing that he got in return for all the respect he deserved, which was all he asked for. Although Earving had been performing rather well up until this point, everyone has their limitations.

“You know, you shouldn't let others treat Soldier Boy disrespectfully,” Crimson said as she gave you one of her venomous glances. “When Black Noir tries to seize control of the team and instigate a revolt, how can people still acknowledge Soldier Boy as the team's strongest supe and leader? How are you even going to support it, Y/N?”

She scowled and remained by Ben's side, uttering more venomous things to incite Ben's hatred of you. Simply because you were aware of Ben's vulnerability to manipulation over his authority, you took a deep breath and declared, “I'm not supporting any of this. Who the hell are you to read Noir's intentions that way?”

Ben raised his finger right up to your face, his eyes were darkened with disappointment. “So, that’s it. You fucking betrayed me for that cocksucker.”

Your eyes burned with fury as the corner of the Countess’ lips curled with satisfaction.

“Are you really talking about betrayal now?” You raised your voice as your hands were in fist now.

Earving felt your hazardous tension with Soldier Boy, and your fury subsided his own anger. You pushed his hands away from you, even though he touched your shoulder to convey his support for you in a gentle way.

You could see how effortlessly the Countess was able to influence Ben; your eyes were burning with pain. You had come to terms with the idea that he couldn't see his actual emotions through them, but it appeared he couldn't see yours either.

He'd pretended to be concerned about you, deceived you, threatened you, and now accused you of betraying him. But the truth was, he was the one who did them. You didn’t know if he was blind or just a coward who couldn’t even face himself.

“You know what?” Ben angrily remarked, “Since you wanted to go away from the team so much, you can fucking leave now. You are free to fucking go.”

With a heavy heart, you murmured, “Fine. Neither do I want to be a part of this.”

Next Chapter

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A/N: I had planned Losing You to be a one-shot story, but it seems it will take a little more chapters to make a final. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! You can also check masterlist for another multi-chapter Soldier Boy / Reader story called “Protect Me From What I Want” Thank you for reading this! <3

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daughterofcain-67 · 2 months

Text

𝒞𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒟𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃: 𝓅𝓉 1

(Dean Winchester x Artist/Bartender!Female Reader)

(𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 2) (𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 3)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You’re an artist that fell in love with a mysterious boy right before college. Then he left without any way to contact him. Decades later you’re an artist/bartender and you’re surprised to see who comes walking through the door.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none that I can think of.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: I have no idea who actually did the cover art for The Prince of Thorns, King of Thorns and Emperor of Thorns by Mark Lawrence, the comic illustrations of the Maximum Ride series by James Patterson, or Cinder by Marissa Meyer. But I loved the artwork for the cover art and illustrations, so they deserve all the credit for their creativity. ((The artwork and references to the books is just to use to build Y/N’s portfolio, I do not own any of the artworks.))

It wasn’t easy being an artist. And it didn’t help that you seemed to be a starving artist at that. Everything seemed to have been done already. You supposed that your creative mind wasn’t as unique as you originally thought it would be.

You had countless sketchbooks in your home, just on one of your many bookshelves, purely dedicated to the sketchbooks you’ve had over the years. You’ve been sketching and drawing for as long as you can remember. You picked up on using water color and oil pastels sometime in high school when you were being experimental with your styles. But over the years you found that your luck expanding on your career was sort of a fifty fifty shot.

When someone hadn’t commissioned you to paint a wall of theirs, or if you weren’t working on a cover for some author - which was also another rare opportunity - You spent your time working at a bar in Wisconsin. It was some way to make some money after all, plus you did get to meet some pretty interesting people.

As for tonight, it was just another Thursday night for you and you were on your break. With that being said, you had your sketchbook out and you were sketching yet again.

Lately, in your personal sketchbook, you would draw the familiar face of a man you used to know. One that probably didn’t even remember your name, but you’d always remember his. You’d always remember his beautiful eyes that reminded you of the green forest, or the way his smile would light up any room he’d step into. You could remember the smell of his leather jacket, or the way that unusual pendant looked a little too good around his neck. You could still remember the sound of his laugh, or the flirtatious little tone and his mischievous smirk. He was a man you knew you could never forget, even after all these years.

“Drawing that mystery man of yours again, Y/N?” A work friend of yours named Danielle asked.

You glanced up at her while she adjusted her glasses and sat in front of you, “He’s no mystery.. just a memory.”

“You know, if you really can’t forget about him then maybe you should look for him.” She suggested and you shook your head.

“That’s not possible. Even when we first met during the summer before my freshman year of college, he was always traveling around with his father. It was a part of his career. And if anything, the guy’s still going it. They always traveled around the country.” You explained and Danielle pouted a little.

“You mean you can’t even track down what business it was? Not even by phone number or anything? Some company they ran.” She said and you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Did he even tell you what kind of business he was a part of?” You shook your head.

“No… he was really secretive and he always told me he didn’t want to freak me out. A part of me wonders if he didn’t trust me. Then after like two weeks together he ghosted me.” You admitted.

“And you’re still obsessing over him? Come on, you’ve really got to let it go. If he was that much of a douche to ghost you and if he didn’t even leave you a way to contact him, then you have got to move on.” Danielle told you and you knew deep down she was right.

You looked down at the picture again of your ‘mystery man’ as Danielle liked to call him. Just as you were about to put the pencil to your paper once more, Danielle’s hand got in the way and she dragged the book across the table and rotated it so she could take a look at your work.

“Okay, this guy can’t actually be real. No one is that attractive.” She said with a chuckle before she looked up at you once more.

“So what did you say his name was again?” She asked as she handed you the sketchbook again.

“Dean… Dean Winchester.”

“Dean… Not a bad name I guess. Better than like Brad or something.” She laughed.

“Any chance that he’s a reader? Maybe he’s seen your cover art on some books.” You shook your head.

“No, he’s not much of a reader. His brother is a reader though so.. maybe? Although who knows if Sam would read any of the books I’ve done the artwork for.” You shrugged, unsure if Sam read any fantasy novels or science fiction.

“His brother’s name is Sam? That’s a little anticlimactic isn’t it? Is it short for something?”

“I don’t think it’s anticlimactic. Simplistic. And no, I don’t think it’s short for anything, but I never really asked Dean about it. Never met Sam.”

“Hey! Y/N! Danielle! Y’all can’t leave me by myself, I just got here!” A second voice said and that was your other friend, Callie. She had a bit of a southern twang in her voice that was definitely different compared to your other coworkers.

You and Danielle both laughed and you got up from your seat. You closed your sketchbook and went back to the back of the bar to put your sketchbook in your backpack. Then you began to resume your shift. The sooner the night was over with, the sooner you could go home and maybe check your emails and see if anyone has reached out to you for any projects.

The next several hours went by and it was closing time at the bar. You walked out of the bar with the two coworkers.

“Have you two heard the news yet about the Nelson’s wife?” Callie asked and you glanced over at her, brow arched upward.

“No. I didn’t even know something happened.” You said.

“Well apparently when Mr. Nelson came home last night, his door was opened up and there were some kind of freaky claw marks on the door. When the boss went inside he saw that his wife’s guts were literally outside of her body. But you wanna know the weird thing of it all?”

“There’s a weird part? Just when I thought things couldn’t get any better!” You asked.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Callie replied, not finding your sarcasm amusing at the moment.

“The weirdest part was that her heart was missing. No weapon was found, no evidence of some kind of fur if it really was an animal attack. The police have searched the place top to bottom to find any clues or evidence of an animal attack. But honestly I’m surprised the bar was even opened tonight.” Callie continued.

“That explains why I hadn’t seen the boss tonight. He must be going through a lot. I couldn’t imagine losing my boyfriend in such a horrific way… and to actually see his wife like that? I can’t imagine.” Danielle said and you frowned a little.

As difficult as it was to learn about the loss of your boss’ wife, you didn’t think that your boss would be missing that much. The Mrs. didn’t exactly have a great reputation after all. She was a bit of the town harlot to put it lightly. It was common knowledge that she had been cheating on her husband for the past three years with several men.

“How is Mr. Nelson taking it?” You asked.

“Well as far as I know he’s been at the sheriff’s office all day for an interrogation. You know how it is, always suspecting the spouse first. I don’t know if he’s actually had the time to really mourn.” Callie replied.

“Well… surely it’s just some freakish accident. It couldn’t possibly happen again. The same animal wouldn’t strike the same town twice, right?” You said.

“I wouldn’t think so.” Callie said.

“Well just incase that animal is still around… make sure you get home safe! Why don’t we create a group text now just to make sure we all get home okay.” Danielle suggested.

“Honestly… that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” You said and pulled out your phone.

Once the three of you were on the group chat, you split off into your different vehicles to go home. You made it to your apartment and shut the door behind you. You tossed your bag on the couch before you plopped on the furniture, then you reached for the remote and turned on the television.

There wasn’t anything good on TV so you changed the channel to Boomerang and watched some cartoons. They were playing the old episodes of Scooby-Doo and you smiled to yourself. You hadn’t watched this show in years and you felt nostalgic watching it. Then your mind wandered off to the old days. You started to think about the summer with Dean.

You shook your head, deciding that Danielle was right and you really should forget about Dean. It’s been years and you never saw Dean again after the best two weeks of your life. It wasn’t worth thinking about. So you grabbed your computer and checked some emails to see if anyone’s reached out.

Evidently there was an email for some author named Marissa Meyer. She was emailing you to compliment your illustrations for James Patterson’s Maximum Ride comics and for the cover art of some other books. Honestly you were surprised. She was writing to see if you’d be willing to do some cover art for one of her books. She emailed you the plot of whatever story this would be and she said the title she planned was Cinder. It seemed to be an interesting plot so you started typing out the response, letting the author know you’d be willing to make the cover art and that you just needed a deadline for it.

Shortly after you sent the email, you started looking at some inspiration photos on Google and Pinterest and that was when your phone started ringing. When you glanced down, you saw that it was a group call with Danielle and Callie. You smiled and you answered the phone before you lifted the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Oh good, you answered!” Danielle exclaimed on the other line and you chuckled.

“Don’t worry, no animals have broken in to attack me yet.” You clarified and Callie laughed.

“See, I told you there was nothing for you to worry about. She’s probably getting ready to draw something and you broke her concentration.” Callie said and you hummed a little.

“Haven’t started just yet. Though about water coloring though.” You admitted since it had been a while since you’d used that medium.

“Well next time send a text! That was the whole reason why we made the group chat, remember?” Danielle continued and you grinned.

“Sorry for worrying you. I’m alright, and I’m glad both of you are alright too.” You insisted.

“Are both of you working tomorrow night?” You asked.

“I know I am.” Danielle replied with a little bit of an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not. I’ve got the rest of the week off.” Callie spoke up.

“The whole week? So we’ll see you when, Monday?” You asked.

“Yep. Needed a little me time and what perfect time would that be than having the weekend all to yourself?” She said.

“What about Dylan?” Danielle asked, referring to Callie’s boyfriend.

“He said he was… busy with something.” Callie said.

“You know, Danielle, you and Chris may like this one restaurant on South drive.” Callie said, talking about Danielle’s boyfriend and you felt like the odd one out, not having gone on a date in about three years.

“I’ll let the two of you talk about your boyfriends and your little date ideas.” You said and you were about to hang up before the both of them started talking to you to not hang up.

“Woah woah woah! Why don’t we get you hooked up with someone?” Callie asked.

“Yeah, that would be fun! I mean it’s been a while so what’s the harm in it? We can take you to the bar after work this Saturday night.”

You arched a brow before you looked at your bag that still had the sketchbook with the pictures of Dean in it. You supposed maybe going out this weekend maybe help you get over the memory. Dean was more of a phantom of that summer anyway.

“I suppose that could work. I get off at six. I can get home and get ready by seven or something.” You replied.

“Oh good! Maybe on break tomorrow you and I can go looking for some cute dresses for you to wear!” You cringed at Danielle’s words and you used your free hand to rub the back of your neck.

“Great.” You muttered with nervous laughter.

“Hang on, guys. I have to go. Dylan is calling me.” Callie groaned with some sort of annoyance in her tone and you wondered if everything was alright. However before you asked, she hung up.

“Wonder if she’s alright.” You said since Danielle was on the other line.

“Honestly I think she and Dylan have been in a bit of a rough patch recently. I wouldn’t be surprised if they break up by the end of the month.” She sighed.

“Rough patch? What’s been going on?”

“Well from what Callie’s ranted about, Dylan is developing some trust issues ever since she told him she didn’t want to live together.”

“What? They’ve only been dating for like a month and he wanted to move in?”

“Something like that…”

“Well you’re being awfully gracious for giving them the end of the month to end things. I’ll give them a week and a half if that.” You chuckled.

“You never know. Anyway, it’s getting late. See you tomorrow?” Danielle said.

“I’ll be there.”

Dean rubbed the back of his head as he walked down the stairs. Then he tied the strap of his robe around his waist as he made his way into the library just to see Sam reading a book. Not much of a surprise there. But this time it didn’t seem like it was a research book in his hands.

“Whatcha got there?” Dean asked, hearing his brother hum in response.

“It’s a fantasy series by Mark Lawrence. I’m reading the second one called King of Thorns.” Sam spoke.

“I didn’t exactly take you to be a fantasy ready. Always thought of you as more of a realist.” Dean admitted as he sat down across from his brother before he moved the laptop across the table. Then Dean opened it up so he could see if there was any new cases that sounded like his and Sam’s thing.

“Charlie recommended the book to me. Said that it was pretty good. Like it’s not Lord of the Rings good or Harry Potter good, but she thought it was worth the read nonetheless.” Sam said.

Dean hummed as he looked over at the book again and he caught a glimpse of the front cover, “Cover art’s pretty good.”

“Yeah… Charlie said the artist has done quite a little bit. She’d done the cover art of this trilogy and the illustrations for some sort of comic series based off some YA science fiction books. I think her name is.. oh hang on I think her name might be in the book.” Sam said as he flipped to the back.

“Oh here it is. Cover artist, Y/N L/N.”

Dean’s gaze shot from the book in Sam’s hand to Sam right after he read the name. That was a name he hadn’t heard in years. Felt like centuries really.

“Let me see that. I want to get a better look at the cover.” Dean said and Sam put his bookmark between the pages and handed the book to him.

As Dean looked at the cover, he admired the work. He suddenly began to recall that summer when he was a couple decades younger. Still fresh and when John was still around. He remembered meeting this beautiful girl in Wisconsin. You, in fact.

That was the best two weeks of his entire life. He remembered how great of an artist you were, how much he loved looking through the sketchbooks you showed him. He remembered you telling him way back when that you wanted to be an artist. Seems like you’ve come quite a ways if you’ve done some illustrations and some book covers.

“Has this artist done anything else?” Dean asked curiously.

“Since when were you interested in art?” Sam asked with a smirk as he leaned in, his arms folded in front of him on the table. Then the look of realization went across his face.

“Wait… Y/N. Isn’t that the girl from-“

“Wisconsin? Yeah.” Dean said and he chuckled.

“Honestly the best summer I’ve ever had.” Dean admitted.

“Why didn’t you ever go back to visit her? Is she a hunter? Maybe she could help us on some hunt sometime.” Sam said, trying to be encouraging but Dean shook his head a little.

“No, she wasn’t a hunter. In fact she was far from it. When I met her, she hadn’t even started college yet. Just graduated high school. She had no idea of the darkness in the world that we deal with and well… I wanted to spare her from it.” He said.

“Sounds like you had it bad. Dad wondered why it took you two weeks to end the case. He said it was awful long for you.” Sam smirked.

“Honestly, yeah. I did. if I wasn’t a hunter, I might have stayed. Maybe even go to summer school or work as a mechanic there to make a living just to stick around while she was on her campus. She was a sweet girl but I knew if I stayed, monsters would come and I didn’t want her exposed to that kind of shit just because I stayed around. I finished the case in a week but I stayed the extra week before I had to decide to move on.” Dean continued.

“Do you ever regret it?” Sam asked.

“Honestly, I don’t think she would even remember me.” Dean replied and handed the book to Sam yet again. Sam took it and set it down on the table beside him.

“I think she’d remember… anyway, as far as I know she’s just illustrated for that series and the covers for this series.” Sam said but he pulled out his phone to search your name.

“Here’s something… She’s painted some walls in the local elementary school building as well as a pediatrician’s office. But honestly I think that’s the only commissions she’s had. Other than that, based off her social media she’s just working in a bar.”

“A bartender? A girl of her talent should be working for some comic company. Maybe even character designing for some animation studio.” Dean said with a bit of surprise.

“Well, sometimes people aren’t always that lucky in life. But I agree with you, she is good.” Sam sighed as he closed out his phone before putting it back in his pocket. Then he turned his attention back to Dean who was looking back at the computer screen in front of him.

“Find anything worth while?” He asked his older brother.

“Well speaking of Wisconsin…. Turns out some bar owner’s wife was found dead. Police are calling it an animal attack but there wasn’t any evidence of an animal left behind. Then again there wasn’t exactly any evidence of humans either because apparently, intestines were outside the poor woman’s body and her heart was missing.” He said.

“So… werewolf maybe?” Sam suggested.

“That’s my first thought. We might as well head that way and check it out for ourselves.” Dean said and Sam nodded before Dean decided to get up so he could take a shower and get dressed before going on the hunt.

When Dean made it into his room, he decided that’s before he’d get dressed he’d look for something.

Honestly he wasn’t even sure if he still had this amongst his memorabilia. He didn’t exactly carry ugh outside of his pictures of his parents, Bobby and Sam and himself when they were younger. But when Dean opened up the auto man at the end of his bed and started looking through old pictures and papers, he moved his father’s journal to the side and then he found a black folder.

Dean let out a breath of relief as he pulled the black folder out and he sat down on the bed. The field was made of paper and it was a bit worn with the years of being moved around since they went from motel to motel a lot. Then Dean opened up the folder and he was pleasantly surprised to find that what he was looking for was still inside.

Inside of the folder there was a sheet of sketch paper with a drawing of both you and him on it. It was an old picture, Dean’s hair was longer and he didn’t quite have bags under his yees from the years of losing sleep because of a hunt. Then there was you, and you were even more gorgeous in person. Your talented hand didn’t give you justice on paper.

In the picture, you were wrapped up in his arms while the two of you sat down on a blanket in the grass. Both of you had a peaceful expression as you looked out at the lake. Dean could still remember the way you felt in his arms, remembering the moment you had drawn in the picture. It was the second to the last night that he spent in Wisconsin.

Dean smiled at the memory, knowing that even after so many years you still had a piece of his heart. But then reality started to get to him and he wondered if you had been married after college graduation. Did you have a family of your own? Dean calculated and by this time you had to be in your mid thirties like he was, right? Most people were arrived by then if they were lucky, and any man would be lucky to have someone so special like you.

Honestly Dean couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you still thought about him once in a while. Maybe late at night when you were watching a movie drinking some wine and drawing one of those covers Sam showed him, he wondered if you thought about him.

Dean put the picture back into the folder and placed it on the night table beside his bed before he grabbed his bag and some clothes to pack up. Then he got his other pair of jeans and a shirt to wear before he headed off to the shower.

Two days had gone by and that was the night you were supposed to go out with Danielle and Callie to some sort of club or whatever. Honestly you weren’t sure if dancing was your thing. You weren’t in your twenties anymore after all but when you were texting Danielle about it all she told you was that it was something to put you out there, give you something fun to look forward to this weekend.

At the moment you weren’t really focused on your little outing that night. You were a little more concerned about the fact that you hadn’t heard from Callie in the last couple of days.

It wasn’t like Callie. She typically texted you and Danielle at least once daily whether she texted some sort of joke or sent a picture of some silly picture first thing in the morning before going about her day and living her life on her days off. But it had been two days and you found it odd that she hadn’t sent any memes, jokes, or even talked about going out that night.

When the door opened you happened to glance up and you saw Danielle running in with a frantic expression across her features. When Danielle made eye contact with you, you realized she was rushing over to the bar to meet you.

“Y/N, have you heard from Callie lately? I saw her boyfriend this morning and he was out at some diner and he acted like he was just fine while he was sitting beside some girl.” She rambled, catching you off guard with how fast she was talking.

“What? No I haven’t, wait he was with another girl?” You asked.

“Yeah and you wanna know what else? I heard Nelson was visited by two guys in suits. I think the FBI is looking into it. Maybe they caught a glimpse of something with Nelson’s wife and they’re looking into it.”

“But the cops already talked to Nelson. That was the whole point of him not stopping by the bar at all like two days ago. Why would the FBI need to talk to him again? Poor guy’s already been through enough.” You said.

“Well, honestly I don’t think Nelson minds. I bet he’s a little glad he doesn’t have to deal with the constant heartbreak of his wife bumping ugliest with different men every other night.”

“Oh come on, that’s a little bit of an exaggeration.” You tried to give the former Mrs. Nelson the benefit of the doubt.

“Would you really be surprised if it was that often though?” Danielle smirked, you rolled your eyes a little before you started putting some of the clean glasses away to prepare for customers.

“Do you think the FBI will come here to see if we know anything? You know the manager’s out of town this week. What do we tell them if they happen to come in?” Danielle asked, starting to get a little worried, not much to your surprise.

“Danielle, breathe. If they come in and you spot them, just send them to me. I’ve got it covered. Not that they’ll ask anything we have any knowledge about anyway.” You said and Danielle took a deep breath before exhaling and nodding.

“I’m still worried about Callie.” She said.

“Well think about it… if you and your boyfriend broke up, are you going to want to spend a lot of time on your phone for the first couple of days? Or are you going to want to sleep and isolate for a while before you start making public appearances again.” You reasoned.

“I don’t know…”

“I’ll tell you what. After we clock out tonight, we can go over to Callie’s house and check up on her and make sure she’s alright.” You insisted.

“Okay… yeah that sounds like a plan.”

“Now… why don’t you go ahead and clock in and we can get the show on the road. They may not even come at all, and Callie will more than definitely be alright.” You insisted and Danielle nodded.

With that being said the two of you got to work. You were busily serving different customers at the bar with different drinks. Some you were used to making but apparently there were some visitors and they wanted something fancy. Two preppy looking guys had just walked through the door and made themselves comfortable at the bar. They looked like they were the country club type of guys.

“Hey, Miss! Can I get a Boulevardier cocktail over here?” One of them said. He had waved ginger hair and he was wearing a blue golf shirt.

“Yeah and I’ll have Vieux Carre cocktail, Darlin.” The other said. He was blond, hair parted to the side and he wore an orange golf shirt with white stripes.

These people must’ve had the worst taste in clothing, and an even worse taste in drinks. You couldn’t even try and pronounce these things and you weren’t even sure if you had the right ingredients for these stupid sounding drinks.

“Sure. I’ll get right on that for you fellas.” You replied and went to the back to get the glasses. Then you pulled out the phone to see what the heck those drinks were. Luckily for you, you had some similar ingredients, but you weren’t working in a fancy bar so you had some pretty basic drinks, they’ll just have to deal with generic.

You grabbed what you needed and started to make the drinks and you thought you heard Danielle’s voice followed by two gruff sounding voices. Yay, more customers.

You were too focused on making the drinks but that was when Danielle started walking towards the bar with the two men she was talking to.

“Y/N? I’ve got a couple of agents that would like to speak with you.” Danielle called.

When you glanced over you saw a familiar green pair of eyes, the ones that you’ve drawn numerous times. They’ve changed though, like they’ve seen so much more. But seeing Dean there… it was like everything in your world stopped and you accidentally dropped the glasses you needed.

The sound of the glass shattering on the floor snapped you out of it.

You immediately started looking for a broom but Danielle started rushing over to help you, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it for you. What did these guys order?”

“Thank you… Some cocktails with fancy names. I’ll send you the recipes.” You said as you wiped your hands on the apron.

“You okay? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” She said and you nodded a little.

“Yeah, I’m okay… I’ll tell you later.” You told her, not wanting to be wrong if your suspicions are correct.

You nibbled on your bottom lip softly before letting it go and you walked over to the two federal agents.

Dean was straightening up his tie uncomfortably. All these years later and he still hated these damned monkey suits but then he felt Sam nudge his arm and when Dean looked up, he could feel his breath taken away.

No, it couldn’t be you could it?

You looked so beautiful, time seemed to have done wonders for you and Dean almost found it hard to breathe at the sight of you.

Of all the towns this case had to take place in, it just had to be the one you lived in. Have you heard anything about the case? You didn’t know about all the ugliness out there yet, did you?

“My friend said you wanted to speak with me? How can I help you?”

God your voice brought back so many memories, but Dean couldn’t dwell on them. Besides, you probably forgot about him so what was the point? Still… it was eating at his mind.

“Um… yeah… Agent Peart, could you get us a couple of drinks and maybe talk to one of the other bartenders?” Dean said.

Sam looked over and raised a brow skeptically. Dean was lucky Sam didn’t really question it and the younger Winchester walked off, giving Dean the time to be alone with you.

“So Ms… L/N, right?” Dean asked, almost hesitant.

But he watched the corner of your lips turn upward into a smile, “Yes, Agent Winchester.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile at the fact that you did remember him after all.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d recall…”

“Dean, it may have been a few years since that summer but I’m not old enough for dementia.” You joked.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh a little and the two of you found a place to sit at the bar table. It’s been so long since he’s been this close to you and it felt just like it did before.

“So how’ve you been? How’s your father and the business?” You asked, Dean remembered that he never told you the exact truth. You had a lot to catch up on he supposed.

“Dad um… well he passed several years ago. About five years after that summer, actually.” Dean said and he watched the way you began to frown.

“I’m sorry to hear that… I remember how you used to talk about him and how close you were.” You told him and he gave a bittersweet smile.

“Things well.. they changed in the five years after. A lot did actually. But my brother and I actually take care of the family business.” He told you and you lifted a brow.

“If you’re an agent now, how do you have the time for a traveling business?” You asked and he felt his palms get clammy, knowing that might be a difficult thing to answer.

“Um… well… Agents like me and Peart aren’t always in one place, so I still travel a lot anyway and when I’m off duty I handle the business as much as I can.” He tried to explain in the most believable way possible.

“You never did tell me what kind of business your dad started. I was always so curious.” You said and Dean wished he could tell you the truth.

“Actually… I need to ask you a few questions. I’m sort of on a case and I don’t really have a whole lot of time to catch up this time around.” He admitted softly.

Dean felt his heart sank at the way your shoulders seemed to slump a little before you looked down at your glass of brandy. He wished he could spend as much time with you as possible, but he couldn’t afford to lose anymore people. People have already lost their lives because of him and he couldn’t afford to do that to you too. He couldn’t handle it.

“What is it you want to know, Agent?”

The switch to the professionalism in your tone pierced Dean through the heart. Maybe he should have asked Sam to keep him some company after all, but from the looks of it he was busy interviewing someone else and writing notes down like the nerd he was.

“The owner… did you have many interactions with his wife?” He asked and he watched you shake your head.

“No. Too busy working. Plus she seldom came here anyway. She was more of a promiscuous woman than anything else. Nelson knew that better than anyone else.” You sighed.

“Nelson.. do you think he’d ever want to take revenge on his wife or pay someone to do it?” Dean asked, making this seem like routine questions - in a way they were still important for a hunter’s case. Who knows, maybe Nelson could he the werewolf he was looking for.

“And risk losing the bar because he’s in jail? No. He was hurt by his wife’s actions, yeah. But for a while they tried to work on it, but then they separated for a month. After that they started living together again before the affairs started up again. And from the looks of it he didn’t have the time to deal with his adulterous wife if she wasn’t willing to change. But there were rumors of a divorce.”

“Do you think Nelson had any enemies? Someone that wanted to get to him through the Mrs?” Dean asked.

“Look, Dean. I don’t keep tabs on my boss and his wife. I don’t care about that kind of thing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have customers to serve and you have a murder to solve. Don’t let me keep you.” You said and abruptly stood up and walked away to get back to work.

Dean rubbed his face before pinching the bridge of his nose, “Well that looks like it was a disaster.”

Dean heard the sound of his brother’s voice and he rolled his eyes a little before he got up.

“Let’s get out of here and compare notes…”

“You okay, Man?”

“I’m fine, Sam. Let’s just go.” Dean stated and he pushed his chair in before they walked out of the door after putting some cash on the table top for the drinks.

Once the two of them got into the car, Dean started the Impala and when he was pulling out he started to drive to the hotel, then Sam started to talk again.

“So why were you so in a rush to leave? What the hell happened back there?” Sam asked, causing Dean to grimace a little but he knew his brother wouldn’t let it go until he knew what was going on.

“You remember the girl we were talking about? The cover artist?” He said and Sam nodded.

“Wait, that was Y/N? Why don’t we go back? You two can catch up! It’s just a werewolf case, a milk run. I can handle this and give you time with her.” Sam said; and as much as Dean appreciated the willingness, he knew his chances were probably gone.

“Oh no… what did you do?” Sam asked when Dean went quiet.

“Why is it always something that I did?” Dean asked and Sam scoffed.

“Because, Dean. As smooth as you are with women you’ll never see again, you always screw up with the ones that matter and you let them go. Why are you trying to let this one go?”

“Because I can’t have what happened to Jo and Lisa happen to her. Even though Jo was a hunter, she still got killed! Lisa didn’t have experience with hunting, never wanted anything to do with it, and she just got in trouble just by knowing me.” Dean said sternly, beginning to speed because he wasn’t exactly focused on the road.

“Dean! Slow down! We aren’t on a roller coaster!”

Dean heard his brother’s panicky voice and he eased on the gas and tried to focus on what he was doing and eventually they made it to the hotel. Luckily there weren’t any cops on the road so he didn’t get pulled over or anything on the way. But he turned off the car and Sam cleared his throat a little.

“Sam, I don’t want advice on this one. It’s better to just let this one go.”

“Dean, come on. I know for a fact you still have that picture she drew for you. And you said it yourself, that was the best summer of your life! You deserve to experience that kind of happiness again. Especially since things seem to be so calm right now. No angelic wars, no apocalypses, things are quiet and you deserve a break.”

Dean was still quiet.

“And you still aren’t going to tell me what down at the bar, are you?”

With a grunt, Dean stepped out of the car and started making his way up the stairs to get to their designated room.

Tag List:

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#jensen ackles #supernatural #spnfandom #dean winchester #supernatural imagine #dean imagine #supernatural x reader #jensen ackles imagine #dean x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x you #dean winchester supernatural #Dean Winchester mini series #spn fanfic #spnfamily #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader

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deans-queen · 2 months

Text

Love Or Die 💜🔪

Mini Series

Paring: Dean Winchester x Female Reader (Y/N) -> story will be told mostly in Reader’s P.O.V.

Plot: Reader (Y/N) can’t stand Dean Winchester and everything about him, but she has a secret and that is: she’s madly in love with him.

Inspired by the song: Can’t Hold On Forever by Laura Marano

Part 1 - Reader’s P.O.V.

Warning: Language

I have been hunting since I was 18 (I’m 25 now) but I’ve never worked with anyone as cocky, annoying and arrogant as Dean Winchester. I started hunting with him, his younger brother Sam and my Uncle /Godfather Bobby Singer since my parents died. Uncle Bobby has been looking after me the past year and I couldn’t be more grateful. He’s always been like a father figure to me. But Dean on the other hand….was a huge pain in the ass. I couldn’t stand him, and I made it pretty well known. But… I had a secret. A secret that no one knows. I'm also unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him. It all started last month, when he saved me from getting kidnapped by a witch that wanted to suck the life out of me to make her more youthful. He was so brave and took care of me, like a knight in shining armor. Since then I’ve had to hide how I felt….It wasn’t too hard to act like I didn’t have feelings, but it was at the same time. Under all that arrogance and self-confidence, he was so damn hot. He was tall, muscular (not like a body builder but his body was toned) and had short brown hair. He had a jawline so sharp and perfect that it could cut you in half. His hands were strong but also calloused, I imagined the way they would feel on my body. His lips were perfect. Looking soft, plump and kissable at the same time. I wanted to kiss them so damn much. And to top it off….he had the most amazing, perfect smile and GORGEOUS emerald green eyes. When I looked into them, I could melt like a popsicle on the 4th of July. There were days when he would be casually walking around, acting nonchalantly and I would find myself staring at him. I would snap out of it when he would say “Take a picture, sweetheart it’ll last longer.” Then I would have to fire back a snarky remark like, “In your dreams, Winchester.” And I’d roll my eyes. On the inside I was screaming, I don’t know how much longer I could keep this up.

The Next Day

We were working on a case, with a bunch of ghosts haunting this old abandoned New Orleans type esque mansion. This group of teenagers heard about it being haunted and wanted to check it out. And of course one of the girls winds up murdered. Her name was Jessica. What a bunch of idiots. Don’t they know it’s frowned upon to mess with haunted places. Anyways…while Sam and Uncle Bobby stayed behind to do research on the house, Dean and I went downtown to the police station to interview the teenagers. One of the things I loved about being a hunter was dressing up as an undercover FBI Agent. I always wore a black pencil skirt, with a white buttoned up blouse and heels. It made me feel like a bad bitch. Dean was wearing a suit and tie, which he looked so handsome in. Once we got there, the boyfriend of the girl who was killed was in an interview room. As we walked into the room, I noticed this kid was drooling over me, which Dean noticed. “Mr. Montgomery, I’m Agent Smith and this is my partner Agent Parker.” Dean said firmly while we both flashed our badges. “Alright, Mr…” I said while taking a seat at the table, trying to sound professional. Dean took a seat next to me. “Mike, you can call me Mike.” He said, interrupting and winking at me. “Okay, Mike.” I said, clearing my throat. “Why’d you go down to that haunted house?” “Look, I already talked to the cops about this. Why is the FBI questioning me now?” “We’re just doing our job Mike,” I said. “Now please, tell us what happened.” “Jess, my friends and I heard the stories about the house being haunted and we wanted to see if it was true.” He explained that when they walked through the house, they could feel the cold air around them. They heard strange noises, silent whispers, and objects flying out of nowhere. Warning them to stay away. “And don’t you think going in that house was a stupid idea?!” Dean said, shouting at him. I mean he wasn’t wrong, it was a very stupid idea. “Well - I - uh…” he said, stuttering. Dean was making him so nervous that his palms were clammy and sweat was beaming on his forehead. Mike finally looked at me and said, “I didn’t think anyone was gonna get hurt! Especially Jess.” He said. “Too little too late for that one buddy.” I said while crossing my arms. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for this to happen. I thought it was stupid and all a joke!” He shouted “If I could take it all back I could.” He said softly, putting his hands in his face. I sighed and looked at him. I was in his shoes once. I used to believe that all this supernatural stuff was a joke, but then my parents explained to me that it’s all real. The ghosts, monsters, everything. I got up and put my hand on his shoulder, I could tell that he was being sincere. “Listen, Mike I know it’s hard not to believe this stuff, but believe me when I say this: it’s all real. And uh, I know how hard it is to lose someone you care about. It can be tough but you’ll get through it, I promise.” “Thanks Agent.” He said while flashing a smile at me. Dean cleared his throat and I removed my hand. “Okay well that’s it for today.” Dean said, and he handed out a business card to Mike. “Call us if you find anything else.” And then he rushed out of the room. “Bye,” Mike said quietly. I gave him a small smile and a quick wave before heading out the door. “What the hell was that Dean?” I said sternly while catching up to him as he walked towards the Impala. “That kid was totally giving you googly eyes, Y/N” he said, climbing in and slamming the door. Is he for real right now? “And why does it matter if he was, it’s not like I can do anything with him. He’s a teenager.” I said, going into the passenger seat. He started the engine and drove off. “It doesn’t matter. He’s 17, probably thinks more with his dick more than his mind.” “Oh and like you don’t either Dean??” I said. He looked at me coldly, gripping his hands on the steering wheel. He continued to drive down the road. “Are you jealous??” “Uhhh no, no no no.” He said, shaking his head. “Whatever Winchester.” I said, looking away from him.

And we continued our drive back to Uncle Bobby’s house in silence.

Authors Note:

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wayward-dreamer · 2 years

Text

Coffee & Chaos - Part 5

Pairing: Producer!Jensen x Fem!Screenwriter!Reader

Word count: 2,302

Summary: Y/N starts working at Chaos Machine Productions, finding joy in the work and fitting in instantly. She knows she could really thrive in the company, as long as she doesn’t fall for her boss, the executive producer and founder, along the way. Little does she know he’s trying to suppress his feelings, for the sake of professionalism, too.

Warnings: Swearing, smut: dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), brief handjob, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it people), ANGST

A/N: All I have to say is... happy reading and enjoy! ;) beta’d by my love @evergreencowboy.

Series Masterlist | This mini-series is complete on Patreon!

A small squeak of initial shock was the only protest Y/N gave to Jensen’s lips on hers.

He was waiting for her to push him off, slap him across the face, run out and then have to deal with the aftermath, but she surprised him by resting her hands on his chest and melting into the embrace. Her hands instantly gripped the navy blue shirt he was wearing in her fists, the buttons straining. Things became heated within seconds, the weeks of built-up sexual tension reaching its limit, as their lips were locked in a searing kiss. If they could hear each other in that moment, they would know they were both thinking the same thing. That this was completely wrong and they shouldn’t be doing this.

And yet they couldn’t stop.

Jensen walked Y/N backwards towards the desk, all his belongings shifting and rattling as they bumped into the edge. A soft moan escaped her as his plump lips left hers, moving across her jaw and down to her neck, her eyes fluttering closed at the feel of them against her skin. His hands slipped down to the curve of her ass, lifting her up carefully and setting her down on the desk, her legs wrapping around his waist as she pulled him closer. His mouth met hers again as they kissed roughly, their hands desperate to feel each other as they roamed their bodies. She tugged at his shirt again, a breathy moan fanning against his lips as she flicked open the first button. She worked open all of them, her nails scraping against his bare chest as she felt a heat settle deep in her core.

“Fuck,” she breathed as she took in the man in front of her.

He hissed as her nails dug into his skin, a low grunt leaving him as he pressed his lips to hers in a hard embrace, tugging his shirt down his arms. He reached for the black t-shirt she was wearing, untucking it from her wide leg jeans and pushing it up, pulling away from her long enough to remove it. He threw it somewhere in the office, followed by his own shirt, taking a brief second to take in the features of her face. She bit her lip as she looked at him, cupping his jaw in her petite hands as he leaned in, kissing along the length of her neck. She gasped as he moved down her chest, kissing her clavicle as he nuzzled his face between her breasts, his hands roaming over her dark red bra.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered against her skin, kissing it softly.

“Jensen, I-” she stopped herself, pressing her lips together as she felt his against her flesh.

He slid down further, his teeth biting the cup of her bra and pulling it down, his mouth instantly closing over her nipple, causing a soft moan to escape her. She combed her fingers through his hair as his tongue circled the hardened peak. A groan from him vibrated against her flesh as she scraped her nails over his scalp, his mouth leaving her to continue the trail down her body. His hands were quick and rough as he undid the belt on her jeans, her legs swinging slightly to kick off the brown, block heels that she was wearing. She shifted slightly to allow him to tug her pants down, along with the dark red panties underneath. His eyes gazed up at her as he pulled them down her smooth legs, her breathing becoming more frantic with anticipation for what was about to happen.

She had dreamed about this very moment so many times, late at night in the privacy of her bedroom as she pleasured herself, but she never thought it would become a reality.

Jensen wasted no time as he dropped to his knees, placing her calves over his shoulders as looked up at her one last time, moving between her spread thighs. Y/N dropped her head back as her mouth fell open in a wanton moan, feeling his tongue lick a long stripe against her folds, instantly moving over her clit. One hand slapped against down on the table to keep herself from falling back, as the other found its way into his hair again to keep him in place. She gasped as he moved the skilled muscle over the swollen nub, the circular movement causing her thighs to quiver as she gripped his short locks tight between her fingers.

“Fuck, Jensen I-” she muttered, glancing down at him through hooded eyes. “Just like that…”

He groaned when he felt her arousal growing over his tongue, smirking as he held her thighs tight in his hands and felt her hips shift against his mouth. She grinded against him slowly, causing his eyes to flick up and see sheer euphoria etched on her features. He pulled away briefly, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh as his eyes met hers.

“Taste so fucking good,” he husked, nuzzling his nose against her skin. “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about this.”

She hummed, biting her lip as she glanced down at him. “As much as me?”

He chuckled; the sound rumbled deep in his throat as he kissed her thigh again. “This what you wanted, Y/N?”

“Yeah.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she moved closer to him, tugging at his hair and making him growl. “But more, please… I need more,” she begged.

“So desperate for me, darlin’.”

He shifted and pressed himself further into her, a long, rasping moan leaving her as he continued his ministrations. She threw her head back as he alternated between paying attention to the bundle of nerves and her entrance, moving his tongue in lightly before drifting back to her clit. She could herself getting close, the bliss she was craving teetering on the edge as she felt the muscles in her core tighten.

“Oh god,” she breathed, her hand slipping back slightly as her arm struggled to keep her upright. She was completely overwhelmed by the pleasure he was giving her. “I’m… fuck, Jensen…”

“Can feel how close you are, baby,” he groaned as he pulled back briefly. “Cum on my tongue, wanna feel it.”

Her hands pulled tighter at his hair as her neck strained back, a husky scream of bliss escaping her lips as the coil within her snapped, her release spreading over his tongue as he lapped at everything she had to give. He moaned at the taste of her as he held her close, not wanting to let go. She panted heavily as she came down from her high, not even registering him standing up slowly. She looked at him once she heard the clink of his belt, her hands instantly reaching for it. A guttural whimper left her as she got desperate, yanking the belt through the loops, and pressing her lips to his in a rough kiss.

Their movements were frantic as she worked on unzipping his jeans and pushing them down his thighs along with his boxers, her hand wrapping around his hard cock. He ripped his mouth away from hers, a low grunt falling from his lips as she pumped her hand along his shaft, her thumb circling the head as she moved up. He lightly pushed her hand away, taking them both and draping her arms around his neck, as he pressed his forehead to hers. He took hold of his cock, lining it up to her entrance. She shifted her hips forward just as he did, a whimper escaping her as he sunk deep inside her, her walls sheathing him completely.

“Fuck,” he husked, squeezing his eyes shut.

He wasted no time in setting a pace as his hips began to move, matching their frenzied embrace as the desk underneath them started to shake. She moaned loudly as she tugged at his hair, her hand clenching over his shoulder, her nails digging into his skin. It urged him on, causing him to cup her face and pull her into a feverish kiss. His breath fanned against her lips as they gazed into each other’s eyes, every thought they had about this being wrong long forgotten. It felt too good to be wrong.

“Fuck, right there,” she whimpered, pushing herself closer to him. “Don’t stop…”

He growled, leaning into her as he laid a hand on the surface of the desk to balance them. “Feel so fucking perfect wrapped around my cock.”

“Jensen, please… fuck me harder, please,” she begged, gripping both of his shoulders, tightly.

He held onto her hip with his other hand as he pounded into her, a pleasured shriek falling from her mouth as her head dropped into the crook of his neck. Neither of them cared as papers slipped and pens rolled off the desk, too consumed by what they were feeling to pay any attention to that. Whimpering moans escaped her with each thrust, her fingers digging deeper into his skin as her hands slid down his sweat slicked, muscular back. A sound somewhere between a grunt and a moan ripped from his throat as her teeth scraped over his neck, biting him as he continued his hard and fast pace. Her walls clenched around his shaft, just as the familiar heat flickered within her.

“Fuck, darlin’, I can feel how close you are,” he rasped, cupping her face in his hands and staring deep into her eyes. “Want me to make you cum hard on my cock, don’t ya?”

“Yeah,” she moaned, clinging tighter to him as she felt close to the edge. “P-Please… make me cum, Jensen, please.”

Jensen leaned down and pressed his lips to Y/N’s in a searing kiss. It was practically bruising, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. His hips smacked against hers as he hit that sweet spot inside her with each thrust, making her fingers dig deeper into his flesh as her eyes squeezed shut. Her nails could almost draw blood to the surface, but he wouldn’t have cared if she did. The only thing that mattered was what was happening in that moment. They held onto each other as she felt the pressure low in her belly build, a string of moans and a scream of his name escaping her as her body convulsed, her release washing over her.

“Y/N… fuck, I-” he choked on his words as her orgasm triggered his, his head dropping down to her shoulder as he grunted with each hard thrust into her, ropes of his seed coating her walls as he came with a strained moan in her ear.

Soft whimpers and low groans were the only sounds in the room as their bodies heaved with each labored breath. Jensen pressed his face into the crook, kissing her softly as her hand lightly combed through the short hair at the nape of his neck. Her eyes fluttered open, her vision finally focusing on a spot on the light gray wall in front of her.

With his lips continuing their sweet caress over her skin, the reality of what they had just done sunk in.

“Fuck,” she muttered, shaking her head as she took in her surroundings. Clothes scattered across the floor, her shoes flung in different directions, the scattered papers and pens.

He huffed a small laugh, lifting his head and nuzzling his nose along her jaw. He couldn’t help but think of the same way to describe what just happened. Fuck, it was incredible. “I know.”

“No…” she whispered, shifting away from him.

Frowning, he moved back to look down at her, confused by the sudden change in her demeanor. He pulled out of her and started getting dressed again, watching her closely as she did the same. Just as she picked up her shoes and began making her way to the door of his office, he stepped up behind her, taking her hand in his.

“Y/N, stop,” he said, calmly as he tried to get her to turn around. “Stay, please…”

“I-I can’t,” she stuttered, yanking her hand away just as she opened the door.

Y/N ran out of the room as fast as she could, snatching up her jacket and purse as she made her way past her desk, and sprinted down the rows to the hallway.

“Shit!” he yelled as he fixed his shirt and jeans, taking off after her.

Y/N threw the doors of the building open as she quickly made her way to her car, getting in as fast as she could, flinging her belongings into the passenger seat. She saw Jensen coming out just as she revved the engine, reversing and pulling out of the parking spot, her tires screeching against the concrete. She pressed down on the gas with her bare foot, the car driving through the open gates and onto the main road before he could reach her.

“Fuck!”

Jensen stared out the open entrance, watching her car disappear around the corner, his hands roughly combing through his hair as he cursed repeatedly. He shut his eyes tight, shaking his head as he couldn’t even think of what to do. He thought everything was okay, that they both wanted this, but he must’ve read things wrong. Now he had ruined everything, and she was never going to see him the same way again. She probably wanted nothing to do with him. She would likely move on from Chaos Machine, find somewhere else where her boss won’t violate any rules, and he wouldn’t stop her leaving even if he wanted to.

And after the mess he’d made of the situation, he had no right to ask her to stay.

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#Coffee & Chaos #Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader #Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader Series #Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Female!Reader Insert #Producer!Jensen #Screenwriter!Reader #Jensen Ackles Fluff #Jensen Ackles Smut #Jensen Ackles Angst #Jensen Ackles Series #Jensen Ackles Fanfiction #Supernatural RPF #Supernatural Fanfiction

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anundyingfidelity · 3 months

Text

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part I)

Summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 1,536.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Notes: As soon as I saw him my feminism left my body immediately and my inner voice agreed that I'd let him take away my human rights with no question. He's an absolute idiot, would sleep with him 100%.

Heads up as English is not my native language sooo, yeah you know what follows. Lord pls give me inspo to finish this fic, amen.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

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GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part I: For The Common Good

Two months.

Two months ago Grace Mallory decided to put the former greatest supe into sleep. Somehow, you managed to get in her head, explaining your new project to her and finding a new use for Soldier Boy, who had enough rest for 40 years.

You knew what happened at the Seven Tower, how Soldier Boy and Butcher's team ended up there to finally kill Homelander. Grace tried doing some shit against Vought before, but she never managed to win. It wasn't different this time. What was better then, that to develop a cure for supes like you, who didn't ask for it? People who never used their powers in public, nor seeked fame and money.

As a doctor in Chemistry, you were developing a cure for Compound V with a secret team. Suitable for you, you were in the same CIA tower Colonel Mallory decided to encapsulate Soldier Boy to, initially, spend the rest of his days in. You had luck Grace gave green light to the project, even though your team was already working on it without her approval anyway. But it was so much better if she found out properly.

Making your way to the super secured wing where Soldier Boy was held out of his sleep, you gripped the folder in your hands. You were scanned thoroughly before going inside a cold space, where two different crystal windows and metal doors separated the place. The armed guard guided you to the first room to check first through the window. You sighed, seeing a man sitting down, hands cuffed to a harsh steel table, gaze lost. It was him.

"The keys," you requested the guard by your side.

"Doctor-"

"I said, keys. He doesn't need to be cuffed."

He complied to your order, clearly annoyed but with a straight face and you walked to the closed door.

"If something happens, I can take care of myself. Don't let anyone inside understand?" you said.

He gave a nod. With that, he let you inside the room, the doors closing behind your back.

The prisoner observed you carefully as soon as you entered. His gaze was tired, but he seemed ready to attack, and it was completely hard to ignore his rough stare on you as you made your way to your seat in front of him. Soldier Boy observed you, placing the folder on the surface, and you held his gaze, not flinching for a second. Until you decided to talk first.

"I am glad you're awake. My name is Y/N, I am a doctor at the facility. Just wanna know how you're doing today," you spoke in a calm and soft way, so he could see you were not a threat.

He saw you roaming through the pages of the file, which he recognized as a copy of his file, and you took a pen from your lab coat to make some anotations.

"Not a smart move to let a fucking doctor here," he said with a deep voice, lips forming a straight line. "What do you want?"

"I want to help you."

"Cut the bullshit."

"I want to talk. If you let me, I will uncuff you so we can have a chat, like civilized people. Just don't try to escape, you won't go too far."

He raised an eyebrow as you reached his wrists and carefully, you set him free from the metal grip.

"I know what happened with Butcher and his boys," you said, confident that he would not try anything else. "About Homelander and your relationship with him."

"What the fuck do you know?" Soldier Boy tensed visibly hearing the name of the bastard. Still, he remained on his seat. "Want some info? You can lick Grace's pussy for that."

"She is, actually, the one who approved me to be here right now," you answered, brushing off his vocabulary. You used to deal with assholes like him all the time.

He scoffed. "Why?"

"Ben," you called his real name softly. "You've been sleeping for four decades. You deserve a second chance, I am offering you that. In some sort of way."

"I'm not going to be part of that freakshow-"

"This has nothing to do with Vought," you cut his words, his tone rising and you knew perfectly why. "You just need to be here in the facility, awake, in a dignified place we will give you so you can learn everything you missed. We can give you therapy, a comfy room, anything you want that's legal, of course..."

His jaw clenched, feeling you would ask for something more. "In exchange of what?"

"I know it's hard, unfortunately you won't be able to get out, but you don't deserve to sleep forever again," you sighed. "I will pay you visits and follow your improvements because you're human, after all. That's all I ask from you," you gave him a smile for the first time.

For a few moments, he said nothing, as if making up his mind about it. "Alright, anything but coming back to that shit hole. I need reefer though."

"Lucky you, that's legal now. We can certainly make it happen."

He looked around the room as you let him go inside first. Not the fanciest, not the shittiest. It had the basics: a bed, a sofa, a TV, a closet, a bookshelf with different books, magazines and newspapers he wasn't sure would read any time, a separate door for a bathroom, enough privacy, and no windows though. It wasn't really a cell, but he did look and felt somehow like a hostage. Just a little less if he could say.

"This is what we have for now, I am all ears if you request something else to have in here," you began as he paced around and tested the bed, sitting down on the mattress.

Ben still wasn't convinced on why you offered this to him. Sceptic, he gave a good look at you, roaming his eyes at your standing figure in a fucking lab coat. Christ, he hated those. Too pretty for a doctor, but too dumb to be locked with a supe like him. He was so tired that he didn't try and hit on you like he normally would with any walking pussy that appeared in plain sight. He was too exhausted to even give a shit.

"Lemme think about it, doctor."

"Of course, take your time," you replied as he walked toward the bookshelf, scanning through the titles there were. He recognized only half of them.

"So, I will be imprisoned here instead of a fucking eggshell," Ben said, turning around to meet you. "Charming," he smirked, dragging the words out of his mouth. "Doing charity."

He watched your face drop as you shook your head. "It's not like that-"

"Then why keep me awake?" Ben insisted as he gave steps to get close to you. "I can't die, it's much easier to force my sleep in a capsule your boss made specially for me."

He stopped mere inches in front of you, your eyes never turned away from him. He thought you were fucking brave just by keeping his dark gaze.

"Ben, I told you I will be watching your progress. You can grow from all of this with our help-"

"What kind of doctor are you?"

"A psychiatrist. That's why I'm here."

Ben scoffed with a grin showing on his lips. He didn't believe in that kind of shit, but oh, well. What was he gonna do about it? He was tired of sleeping, Mallory captured him, and you were here, giving him a shelter for no cost, but his freedom. In his mind, that was temporary of course. With time, a plan would come. Right now, he just needed to keep up with the fucked up things of the modern world.

"I guess you would come and babysit me then," he said, going back to take a sit on the bed.

"Wouldn't use 'babysit you' but I will come to see you, that's for sure."

He nodded. Silence was his answer, so you continued.

"Just general rules. Our people will bring you three meals a day, if you're missing something that you need then just push the button by the door, there will be guards outside to assist you on that. Also, there are clothes your size on the closet and personal products so you can change and take a shower," he stayed silent again, just taking in your words. "If you don't need anything then I leave you to get comfortable," you said, about to leave.

"Wait. I do need something," he hesitated for a moment, but he continued anyway. "Don't use those lab coats when you come in."

Your eyes widened, he quickly realised you already knew why he was requesting that when you started to take off the coat, revealing your formal attire. You wrapped the coat on your arm and cleaned your throat.

"I totally understand, I will keep that in mind when I come tomorrow. And I will ask for your reefer too."

You flashed a final polite smile and left him to get settled. Ben breathed out. Fuck, he really needed a shower.

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys amazon #the boys series #the boys tv #the boys fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 18 days

Text

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 16: Please Come Back To Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter sixteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 7.6K (You know you love it)

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Alot of Angst, Crying, Heartbreak, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

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

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Additional Warning: This chapter contains severe amounts of fluff and angst. Ben is SUPER OOC and really soft in this chapter, I will not apologize for that, but I will say you're welcome 😉 If you don't like either of those things, then probably shouldn't read this?

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When you wake up you think you dreamed it all, but one look at your blotchy red face in the mirror of your bathroom, dried snot on your shirt, and your inability to find your phone means that it did happen.

Ben was back and you didn't know where to go from here.

Bits and pieces of the conversation explode in your head like fireworks and your grip on the bathroom sink tightens so much that the countertop cracks beneath your hands.

Shit.

You extract your fingers from the marble that crumbled like gravel in your iron grip and glance down at your watch. You’d been asleep for 7 hours, which meant that now it was 10 pm and you probably weren't going to sleep tonight.

As if you could after everything that just happened.

Honestly, you were surprised that you had been able to, but you figured it was just the exhaustion of everything that happened, the heartbreak, the shouting, the tears, the inability of you to let go of the past, and Ben's confession of love that you waited 80 years to hear. You had wondered in the past if he wanted to say it the night that you decided to come with him, if he really did care for you as much as you cared for him all these years. Now that you knew, you wish you didn't. You wish that you could let him go, let go of the things that happened all those years ago, and wish that you hadn't fallen for him and expected him to catch you.

You think about crawling back into bed and hugging your pillow until you fall asleep so you don’t have to think about Ben. You wince at the thought of his name.

He apologized, admitted that he loved me, said that what he did was wrong, said that he wouldn’t leave- The urge to cry lodges in the back of your throat. How do I have any tears left?

You think about how much you wanted to run to him, to throw yourself into his arms, but you knew that you shouldn't want to. Ben broke you. What he did weighed on your heart everyday, but you wanted to forgive him.

How can I still want him as much as I do? How can I want him to fix this even after he did everything he could to push me away?

The look in his eyes when he confessed his feelings to you flashes through your mind in black and white.

Ben admitted weakness, said that he was scared of all things. Ben wasn't afraid of anything.

Over 40 years of friendship meant that you knew every part of him, but the part you had seen in your apartment, him practically begging you to forgive him was not one that you were used to and was not one that you had ever seen.

It was unusual for him to look broken and vulnerable.

The closest you'd ever come to seeing it was on the nights back in Philadelphia when he tapped on your window, on nights when his father gave him a hard time and Ben needed a place to crash. When the look in his eyes made you want to pull him into your arms and never let him go, to tell him that everything was going to be okay, that he wasn't a disappointment. Because despite everything with Countess, Ben wasn't a disappointment to you.

Everything was easier when you were kids, when Ben would fall asleep beside you in your bed and when you woke up in his arms, you wished that he did it on purpose.

I guess he was trying to say that he did it on purpose. You sigh as you walk into your closet to find a soft t-shirt while avoiding the duffle bag that you threw inside the double doors before you collapsed onto the bed.

But even if he was sorry, how do I know he won’t just act like the boy I used to know and tomorrow pretend he doesn’t exist? It was so easy for him to do that, to say that I meant nothing to him, to act like he didn't care.

You think about the morning after your birthday, when he looked soft and happy in your bed and how quickly he shifted into the cold mask he wore as Soldier Boy. How easy it was for him to push you away and ignore you, act like you didn’t exist and cling to Countess at the premiere.

How do I know he won’t do that again? How can I trust him? How can I forget everything he did?

You think about the night you found him with Countess, think about the moments before at the premiere, when she made you believe that you were the ugly little girl who watched Ben prance around your birthday party with Missy Callahan. Your mind stutters on her name, remembering the last time you heard it in conversation on the night that you wished would never end.

"Don't be jealous of Missy Callahan. She's nothing compared to you. Never has been, never will be."

You hear Ben whisper it to you while your song played and remember that it made you feel like you were floating, made you feel understood and seen for the first time in your life. The memory of the night you spent together rises to the surface and you allow yourself to remember, remember how it felt to finally have him completely, how much it meant to you for him to be there with you, and how he made you feel special and loved.

Your jaw clenches as the image of him with Countess sours the memory of the perfect night you had together, as the memory of the words he shouted at you rip through the happy glow you had the morning after your birthday when you told him everything you'd always wanted to.

And then the memory of what he said to you a few hours ago rises.

"We made love. I understood that when I woke up the next morning and I was happy to be there with you. I knew that I loved you and I wanted to tell you, but I fucked it all up instead. I fucked Countess because I was scared of what loving you meant. But I'm ready now, I'm not scared anymore. I love you!"

Damn it why does it have to be like this. You clench your teeth together in anger and frustration. Why did he have to do this? Why did I have to love him? Why couldn't he have just stayed gone? Why did he have to come here-

"No. I love you and I'm not leaving!"

The words reverberate around in your skull, shaking through your body like an avalanche, shaking the foundation that you built to push him away. Because you didn't want to. You didn't want him to leave. You didn't want him to leave ever again. But you weren't sure if you could survive again if he did that again. If you opened your heart to him only to have him crush it under his heel all over again.

It was so long ago. 40 years. 40 years that he said he spent regretting what he said that night. We both said things that night.

Sometimes you wondered if Ben was as broken as you were after the fight. You think about how he looked when you went into your room and think about what he said.

Maybe he was.

Apart of you didn’t want to forgive him and didn’t believe that he really understood what he did to you. The other part wanted to leave your apartment and find him, ask him to stay, forgive him and let him back in to your heart.

More frustrated tears slip down your cheeks as you look for a pair of your soft sweatpants. When you walk out of your closet you think about going back to bed again, but you knew that sleep wouldn't come.

Maybe I should call Rosie. She'd be proud of me for not forgiving him, but probably would be mad that he came here. And I should probably tell her that I didn't have to go to Russia.

That thought gives you the strength to leave your bedroom, bare feet padding down the cool floors of the hallway back to your living room. The lights are all off, save from one single lamp on the coffee table next to the plush leather couch, the same one that you'd thrown Ben over when he grabbed your arm.

But when you cross from the hallway into the living room, you realize that you aren't alone.

Ben is sitting on the couch, leaning forward on his forearms, a blunt perched in his right hand where his arm rests against his knee, looking down at his feet. He looks up at you when you walk in, eyes piercing in the warm light of the lamp, familiar in a way that almost makes you start crying all over again.

"What are you still doing here? I thought I told you-" You begin to say, voice hoarse from crying, trying to summon up enough anger to push him away, but then your eyes shift to your kitchen counter.

A pretty glass vase of fresh cut lavender sits on the counter, the sharp clean smell floats through the air soothing the anger and frustration that you drew on to speak.

Despite your age and the way most considered them to be classic, you thought that over the years roses had become generic. But you loved lavender. It reminded you of the country home your family lived at over the summers when your mother declared that the smog in the city was too much and you all needed a holiday. She always seemed softer in the countryside, all the sharp edges of the city melting away. She didn’t snipe at your figure or your paint stained hands, if anything she gave you more freedom. You spent your summers outside in the garden staring up at the clouds missing Ben, painting and sketching, while the smell of the flowers enveloped your senses. You used to send letters to him and some sketches of flowers or small painted doodles after pressing fresh lavender into the envelopes so they would smell like it when they got to him. You wanted him to think of you whenever he smelled lavender.

He remembered how much I loved lavender?

Your eyes shift to the cigar box that lays open next to it, focusing on the slips of paper that seem to spill out over your countertop.

Are those-

You reach into the box and pull out the yellowed pages of letters delicately, eyes drifting across the paper, recognizing your handwriting, remembering the painstaking moments you spent writing them to Ben, hoping that he got them, and hoping that he missed you as much as you missed him. Underneath the ones from the summers are the ones that you sent him when he was at boarding school and then finally the faded pencil sketches and faded watercolor paintings you sent him. Each piece is folded and refolded as if someone continued to look at them over and over again.

Your fingers drift over a small doodle that you did of Ben and you sitting on a bench in Philadelphia, the one that captured you laughing at something Ben said.

It was so much easier then.

“You kept them?” You breathe while looking down at the pages.

Ben stands from the couch, putting out the blunt in one of the decorative glass ashtrays on your coffee table, watching you with the same expression in his eyes that he had when you were there earlier, when you told him to leave and not come back.

"Ben-" Tears begin to fall all over again as you meet his gaze.

"I hated those summers when you were gone. I used to sleep in your room and read the letters." He whispers. "It made me realize how much I needed you in my life. I never needed anyone before." His jaw clenches together as if the thought makes him angry.

“You asked me once why I didn’t stay at those schools. It’s because when I was at all those shitty boarding schools the only thing I could think about was getting back to you, coming back home.”

The word rings in the air between you and you suddenly understand what he is saying, remember what he said the day you were together at your first baseball game and you asked him why he didn't like staying at the boarding schools.

"I don't like being there. It's not home." He had said it so casually, but you remember being confused at his reply, but now you know.

He was saying that home was with you and it made your heart feel like it was ripping itself in half because you were still so angry with him but you didn’t want to be. Not when he was saying the very thing you’d known from the beginning. That being with him was home.

“Ben-“ You say, trying to strengthen your resolve, trying to summon the anger you’ve kept close to your heart for forty years.

"Every time I came to see you, tapped on your window I thought you would push me away, turn your back on me and you never did. And when all this supe shit happened I needed you with me too, that's why I asked you to come with me. Those years before and when we were on Payback, you put up with all my shit. Even when I did horrible things to other people, you stood by me. You know more about me than anyone else, have known me for longer than anyone else-" He takes a cautionary step forward.

Tears continue to fall from your eyes, sobs shaking your shoulders, but you can't speak.

"That night with you, felt different. Even before when we were at that restaurant it was different. I didn't want to leave. It was like nothing changed, like we were in your room again just talking, before all this, when we were still in Philadelphia. The only memories that I have from Philadelphia that are worth remembering are the moments I spent with you. And when I asked if I could come back to your place I-" He sighs rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought you would say no, but you didn't. And then you told me that you had wanted me almost as much as I'd wanted you all those years, that you needed me. I always thought that it was only me that needed you."

"Ben I can't-" You voice breaks looking away from him.

Ben is close enough now that his fingers come under your chin to tilt your face up to his. “I shouldn’t have said what I said or did what I did. I didn’t want to need anyone. I thought that I had to push you away because loving you meant I was weak. But it’s not true. Loving you is the only good thing that I’ve ever done and loving you is the only thing that makes me strong.”

You close your eyes to avoid his gaze, you wanted to believe him, but you weren’t sure that you could.

"I've fucked a lot of women in my life y/n, I won't apologize for that. But I've only made love to one." His thumb brushes away another tear that falls from your eyes. "And when you told me that you wanted me to be your first, it did something to me. I wanted to be everything you needed. I didn't want just one night with you. I wanted all of them. When I woke up the next morning with you in my arms, I didn't want it to end. All those nights when I showed up at your apartment, I didn’t want to go home. I just wanted to stay with you because it was home. Even when we were kids, being with you in your room it was the only place that I felt like I belonged.”

Your hand can't help but come up between the two of you, resting solidly on his chest. Apart of you wants to push him away, but you can’t.

Ben is still touching your face, holding it up to his. Your bodies are so close together that you can feel the heat of his skin through the air between you. Another tear falls and Ben's thumb brushes it away. The smell of the lavender is intoxicating, broken up only by the familiar smell of Ben's aftershave and soap.

And somehow you find your voice. It shakes, but you hold his gaze. "I hated you for a long time. What you said broke me. I was broken so many years. I still am-“

“Sweetheart-“

“No.” You inhale sharply. “I want to believe you, but I don’t think you understand what you did. I want to believe that you’ve changed but this is exactly what happened that night on my birthday. Don’t you see? How can I believe you? How do I know that you won't pretend to be everything I want, pretend that you’re the boy I fell in love with and then the next morning you’ll push me away and act like he doesn’t exist-“ Tears leave warm trails down your cheeks. "I’m not strong enough to go through that again.”

“I promise-“

“Ben you’ve promised in the past. And I-“ More tears come. “I’ve tried so hard to put it behind me. I want to believe that you’re still you but I don’t know if I can trust you again like I did.”

"Y/n." Ben looks deep into your eyes. "I didn't pretend that night. The only time I pretended not to care was in the morning and at the premiere-"

"And how do I know you won't do it again?" You sob. "When you think that it's too weak to admit that you care about me?"

"I do fucking care about you."

"You say that now."

"I love you."

"Ben I can't-"

"I said those things because I-" He sighs, shoulders tight in frustration and anger. "I thought that I needed to push you away, that I shouldn't care about anyone as much as I care about you. But I do. I fucking care about you more than I've ever cared about anyone in my life. I didn’t want to need anyone but I do. I need you. That’s why I kept showing up in your life. That’s why I spent so many nights in your bed. I couldn’t survive the night alone and I needed you with me, even after we took the damn serum.”

“But-“

“That night when you told me that asshole, Howard proposed I knew that I couldn't lose you. I didn't want you to marry that fucker. I wanted you to be with me. He didn't know you the same way I did, he didn't understand you. He didn't deserve you. And the night we danced together I called you ‘my girl’ because I wanted you to be. I wanted you to be mine. Not because I wanted to piss him off. Because I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you. You’re the one, the only one.”

You drop your gaze to his chest, sobbing quietly to yourself. Ben tilts your head up towards his one more time, to look deeply into your eyes. There's an unfamiliar vulnerability that stares back at you, the same one you saw when Ben would come to your bedroom and wait for you to ask him to stay because he thought you would push him away the way everyone else did.

"I promise that I will never do that to you again. I know it doesn't make what I did or what I said okay. But I will spend the rest of my life trying to fix it because I can't lose you. I’ve spent forty years away from you and I don’t want to spend anymore time away. I love you. And I hate that I fucking hurt you this much."

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, hear the raw emotion in his voice, but you’re still unsure.

“Please y/n I want to fix this." He says again.

“I know you do. But you can’t just show up 40 years later And expect to fix it in one night. I know it’s not your fault that you didn’t come sooner but, you hurt me-“

“I know I did-“ his eyes drop to your shoulders as the memory of how he grabbed you that night blankets his mind.

“No not like that. Ben you don’t understand. Sorry isn’t enough. And yes hearing you say all these things was nice but it’s not enough to make me forget everything that happened.”

“But-“

“No. Ben I loved you, more than I’d ever loved anyone I-“ You shake your head tears falling fast. “I lost pieces of myself to make you happy to make sure that you had someone in your life that cared for you. I stayed for so long with you because it was all I thought I could do. And every time I thought I could leave to do something for myself you would do something to pull me back in like you had a fucking radar and knew oh if I do something that she wants I’ll get her to stay with me a little longer!”

“I knew you were unhappy! I was trying to make you happy! I wanted you to stay with me-“

“By manipulating me?”

“No it wasn’t because I wanted to manipulate you I-“ He exhales in frustration. “You told me that you wanted someone to come home to, someone who loved you, a family, I wanted to give you those things! I saw how you were looking at the other couples, I knew what you wanted. That’s why I held your hand at dinner, gave you the necklace, and that’s why I kissed you-“

“But then you pushed me away. You pushed me away when I needed you the most, when I finally said what I'd been trying to say for years.” Your voice shakes. “I can’t go to bed every night with you and wake up with the dread that you’re going to push me away again and say that I mean nothing. That you’ll be cold and unfeeling and- I can’t do that to myself again.”

“I promise I won’t-“

“I don’t know if I believe you. If I can after everything."

"Please just tell me what I can do to fix it."

"I don't know!" You shout running your fingers through your hair pulling back from him. Because you wanted him to fix it. You loved every bit of the words he said, the love he confessed to you. You loved the way he was looking at you, the way he wanted to make this up to you, but your heart wouldn't let go. It couldn't let go of the things he shouted at you, couldn't let go of the image of him and Countess, couldn't forget how happy you were to tell him you loved him and then he just acted like you were nothing. The words he said that night begin to circulate, bringing you deeper into the dark pit that threatened to swallow you whole, the pit that you'd fallen into when you thought he died.

"Ben I-" Your voice catches in your throat. "I wish that I knew what you could do to fix this. I want you to. I want to forget all of it. And I want to forgive you because I still fucking love you, but I can't do it in one day. I can’t -" And despite your better judgement you crumple against his chest, tears smearing against the front of his shirt, body shaking with sobs, and trying hard to not think how it feels the same as it always has to be pressed against him.

Ben's arms come up around you to wrap you in his embrace, tucking your head under his chin as he begins to drag his hand up and down your back in a soothing motion.

The gentleness of his touch makes you cry harder against him, hold on to him so tight that you think you'll break him in half, but he doesn't complain, he just stands there with you. It reminds you of when he came to hold you in the hotel room when your brother died, when he drove for hours to be there for you. Because despite everything that had happened between you, Ben was always there with you before that night with Countess.

You don’t know how long you standing there together, but finally Ben picks you up and carries you down the dark hallway to your bedroom and deposits you on the bed.

He waits a minute on the edge, standing as if he's unsure, brow scrunched up in frustration and anger.

"I didn't mean to hurt you this fucking much. And I don’t know how to-“ His jaw tenses and he shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut like he can't look at you. “I don’t know how to- fuck- I can’t lose you.” Ben grips his hair so tightly you think he’s going to pull it out.

“Ben.” You sigh and despite everything , you stand up from the bed to hug him, allowing him to press his head into your shoulder and hug you so tight it hurts. It breaks something deeper in your chest because you can see how broken he is, how much he wants to fix this, and how much of him he was willing to let you see.

You didn't understand how he was being so open, how he was allowing himself to be like this after all the bullshit toxic masculinity he usually spouted and how he pushed away his feelings for so long. You wondered if after this he would push you away because you had seen him like this, or if he really did love you and that was why he was doing it.

“It’s okay.” You soothe, running your hands up and down his back. “It’s alright.”

But you’re not sure it is.

"If you still want me to leave I will. I can sleep on the couch.” Ben whispers. The emotion that flashes in his eyes when he says it, breaks your heart. It's vulnerable and raw, so different that the mask Ben wore as Soldier Boy. “But please don’t make me go.”

"I don't want you to go." You whisper. “Even after everything. I want you here with me, it’s just hard.”

“I’m sorry-"

“I know you are Ben.” You both stand there for a minute and you weigh your options.

You think about making him go back out on the couch, making him sleep alone, but you don’t want that. You knew that you’d spend the whole night thinking about him. And as much as a part of you wanted to push him away, you couldn't. So you do the opposite.

You take his hand and gently entwine your fingers with his. Ben stares down at them for a moment confused, before you sit on the bed, scooting back and tugging softly, but he hesitates.

“Are you sure?” He asks in a whisper, gaze raising from your hands to catch your eye.

You nod once tugging his hand again and this time he follows you down into the mattress.

He slides in next to you beneath the covers, keeping your hands entwined between the two of you so that they are locked against his chest as you face one another on the bed, heads resting on different pillows, but close enough that you can feel his warm breath every time he exhales.

Ben's eyes search yours. “I tried to call after. I picked up the phone but every time I did I couldn’t-“ He sighs. "I was such a fucking pussy. I didn't know what to say. I should have just come over-"

"I wouldn't have let you in." You breathe. "I didn't want to see you, didn't want to see anyone. Stan Edgar tried to come talk to me and I broke his nose."

"Really?" Ben smiles.

"Yeah." You try to smile back, but you can't.

Ben raises his free hand to push back your hair and tuck it behind your ear, but his eyes drop to your shoulders tracing the imaginary bruises that he left behind all those years ago. "I'm sorry that I hurt you. I didn’t mean to-“

You press your lips into a tight line. “I think that’s the only time I’ve ever been afraid of you.” You say in a whisper. You hadn’t wanted to admit it aloud, but it was true. You had been angry and heartbroken, but the fact that Ben had laid a hand on you, was prepared to hurt you had scared you. It was what solidified that the thought that boy you loved was gone.

But the look on his face breaks something inside you, pain and anguish flashing in his eyes.

"Ben-" You sigh, shifting forward closer to him, but he releases your hand and instead wraps his arm around your waist to pull you into his chest, pressing his head into your shoulder. You know that he can't say what he's thinking right now, but he doesn't have to.

“I also remember doing something to you.” You say because you don't know what else to, you’re not used to seeing him look so broken.

“I deserved it.” He mumbles into your shirt.

“You didn’t deserve what I said about your dad-“

“I did. You were right.”

“Ben you’re not like him.”

“But I am. Everything I did to you, is something he would have done.” He mutters, pulling you tighter against him. “I don’t know how to fucking fix this.”

“This is helping a little bit.” You whisper against your better judgement, while you inhale his shampoo and lean further into his chest. It was weird to be here with him after all these years, after all the years you spent hating him. You didn't want to forgive him, you wanted to be angry but at the same time you wanted to believe him, you wanted to believe that the boy you fell in love with was still there.

And laying here with him holding you the way you always wanted him to, made you remember that boy.

“Yeah?” He breathes, raising his head from your shoulder.

“Mhmm.”

You lay there for a minute in his embrace and it's like he never left. It's the same as when you were kids and you laid in bed together. And finally you say. "As angry as I am, I still love you. You matter too much to me for me to let you go. I think that's why it hurts so much, because you're all I had Ben and I-"

"That's why I can't lose you. You're all I have and that’s enough. You are enough. You always have been and always will be.” Ben states his eyes are wide with his confession, the pain of what he did to you flashes through them. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I never could think of a way to say it.”

More tears spring from your eyes and you wonder when you’ll stop crying.

Ben leans his forehead against yours. His expression softens as he looks into your eyes, his touch gentle against your cheek. “But if you’ll let me, I’d like to show you how much I love you and how sorry I am.” The look in his eyes is softer than you’ve ever seen it, reminding you of how he looked on those early mornings still half asleep and reminding you of how he looked the morning after your birthday before he ran.

You know he means well, and you understand what he’s asking, why he’s asking. He’s trying to make it up to you the only way he knows how, but you can’t do it. It's too soon. Too much after everything that happened and too much considering you're still trying to come to terms with the fact that he's here and he's finally saying everything you ever wanted him to. Not to mention that you haven't completely forgiven him.

“Ben?"

“Yeah?”

“Can you just hold me tonight?” You breathe. You felt disgusting. You had snot and tears all over your face and your cheeks were bright red and splotchy from crying. “I’m not ready for that. Not after everything. I don't think I can-”

You watch disappointment flicker in his eyes but he recovers with a soft smile. "It's okay. We can take this slow, whatever you need."

Ben drops the hand that was against your cheek and wraps his arm around your waist to pull you into his chest. You snuggle into his arms breathing in the familiar smell before bringing your arms up to wrap around the back of his neck in a tight hug.

“Did they hurt you?” You ask before you can stop yourself.

Ben’s arms tighten around you and you know that he must be remembering the past 40 years.

“What they did doesn’t matter.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t come for you." You pull back to look into his eyes. "The others told me you were dead. I wouldn’t have left you there if I knew-“

“I know.” Ben leans his forehead against yours. “I would have come for you too.”

“I know.”

“It means a lot to me that you were still willing to come get me after everything I fucking put you through.”

“That’s what love is.”

“No.” Ben whispers. “That’s you.”

“Ben-“

“I don’t deserve you. You’ve stood by me, put up with all my shit all these years and you never turned your back on me. What I did to you is unforgivable and yet you want me here with you-“

“Ben.” You sigh. “I know that I shouldn’t want you here and a part of me wants to push you away. I should make you leave, but I can’t. You’re my best friend and I love you. And that means that even though you’re the one who hurt me, you’re the only person that I want here, comforting me. As fucked up as that is, I don’t care. What you did was horrible, but I promise that I’m going to try my best to forgive you. It might take a long time, but I want to trust you again, because I love you and I never stopped.”

He frowns despite what you confessed. “You don’t regret-“

“I said a lot of things that night. And you did too." You push his hair back over his forehead. "And for the record, I don't think your father would care about making it up to someone else. We both know that he didn't care about anyone but himself. And even after everything that happened you're proving that you aren't him, right now, by being here with me."

He presses his lips together in a tight line. "Okay."

It’s quiet for a few moments as both of you stare at one another in the dim light of your bedroom.

“Have you really loved me since we were 8?” Ben whispers.

“Yeah. Since the study.” You're not sure if you should be embarrassed or not.

He smiles. “I was 10. It was the night of my mom's funeral. My dad was giving me some shit about something, but I couldn't stop thinking about you so I climbed up the tree outside your window. I wasn't going to ask you to come in, I was just going to sit on the ledge and watch you draw. I like watching you draw, it's like you're in your own little world and you forget about everything else. You always seem so happy." Ben smiles wider. "I like seeing you happy."

You remembered that night. You had a weird feeling that someone was watching you and when you looked out your window you had seen Ben sitting there. You had made a joke about him stalking you, but then invited him in. It was the first night that he had ever spent in your bed.

"And then when we woke up the next morning, you were laying there snoring-" Ben snorts.

"I do not snore." You smile with a sniffle

"You do. It's cute." Ben's smile turns softer. "And I didn't want to wake you up, because it meant that we'd have to move and I didn't want to ever move. Because moving meant that I would have to go back to my dad and I didn't want that. I just wanted to stay there with you."

More tears pour from your eyes with his confession because again you can’t see Soldier Boy, you just see Ben, but you know it’ll take a long time until you’re completely healed.

“I didn’t want to say anything. I thought that if I did you would push me away and I didn’t have anyone else that mattered in my life. And you deserved better than me. I was always getting kicked out of boarding schools I was a fuck up. A disappointment.” Ben sighs, brushing away your tears again. “Even after we took the serum I was. You deserved someone who was-“

“I didn’t think you were a fuck up, Ben. I’ve never thought that. I hate what your father said to you, what he did to you. I hate that he made you feel like you didn’t matter.” You stroke your fingertips through his hair and Ben sighs, leaning his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. “You are worth so much more than what he told you. You mean so much to me, more than anyone else ever. That’s why I never told you. I didn’t want to lose you. You’re everything to me.”

“You’re not going to lose me. I promise I’m never going to leave you again. I missed you so fucking much sweetheart.”

“I missed you too.” You continue to move your fingers through his hair. In the past you had avoided the urge to do so, but now you wanted to comfort him. Because as much as you wanted to forget the last forty years, you wondered what they had been like for him. You wanted him to tell you what they did to him.

“Feels nice.” He murmurs, arms tightening around your waist.

“Your hair’s a lot longer.” You can’t help but smile at his reaction.

“Didn’t have time to cut it.”

“So is your beard-“

“If you don’t like it I can shave it off-“

“No don’t.” You say it quickly and Ben opens one eye to smirk at you.

“Guess you like it.”

“Maybe.”

“Then I’ll keep it just for you Sweetheart.” He leans further into you. “You know I think you look pretty good too.”

You snort. “You don’t have to butter me up just because you feel bad. I’m wearing sweatpants, I haven't brushed my hair, and my face is all puffy-“

“You look beautiful.”

“Well-“

“Stop. You do.”

“Ben-“

This time Ben raises his hand to cup your chin. “Will you just let me compliment my girl?”

The nickname is familiar. You remember the last time he called you that, when you were dancing and he finally kissed you for the first time. “Do you really mean it this time?”

“I always meant it. You are mine and nothing else matters.” The look in his eyes is determined, as if he wants you to understand how much you mean to him.

“Does that mean that you're mine too?" Your voice is almost a whisper, frightened of his answer. Although he had apologized and said that he wanted to make it up to you, you were still afraid. Afraid that Ben couldn't do this.

"Y/n." Ben's expression is pained. "I promise I will never do that again. I will never hurt you like that ever. Believe me when I say that."

"I'm trying to."

“What can I do to fix it?” He asks again.

“I don’t know.”

And you don't. Because you understood that Ben was trying his hardest to make up for what happened, and yes you loved that he was like this now, but you were afraid, afraid that the next day you'd wake up and he'd be gone and Soldier Boy would be back.

Ben sighs. "I am yours and I don’t want to be anywhere else." His eyes are focused on you, determined, but filled with a softness that turns the beautiful emerald into a clover that reminds you of the soft grass at the park the day you painted him.

You weren’t used to him looking at you like that, like you were the only person in the world. It had only happened one other time, the morning after your birthday when you were more happy than you'd ever been in your entire life.

“Okay.” You whisper back because you don’t know what else to say. “Ben?”

“Mhmm?”

“What did they do to you?”

Ben’s body tenses. “It doesn’t matter now.”

"Please tell me.”

“Why?”

“Because you were there for forty years and I-“

“It doesn’t fucking matter. Just drop it.” Ben snaps, eyes blazing green.

You wait for a beat, watching the blaze of his eyes turn down to a simmer. “It’s okay to admit that the last forty years haven’t been easy. I won’t judge you for that or think less of you Ben. And if we’re going to do this, be in a relationship, you’re going to need to share things with me. It can’t be one sided-“

“It’s not going to be one sided, I just don’t want to talk about that.”

“Okay.” You sigh, settling back down next to him. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit disappointed. You knew that Ben kept his cards close to his chest, but you wanted him to be open with you about things like that.

The silence grows between you filled with unspoken things.

“They wanted to see if I could die, if they could make me fucking normal again.” Ben mutters into the top of your head. And then he tells you, tells you what happened that day in Nicaragua, tells you about the testing, about the nuclear bomb they put into his chest, about every single thing they did to him over the past forty years. With each revelation of the last forty years your arms tighten around his body in a hug, holding him to you while his words make anger surge in your chest like an uncontrollable fire.

How could they do that to him? How could they hurt him like that? And Payback? They were our teammates. How could they turn their back on Ben like that? Give him up so easily and not for any kind of money?

You think about what Countess confessed to you, when she said that she purposely drove you two apart.

They were right to. If they had tried any of that with me there, I would have ripped them all apart if they tried to take Ben away.

Your fingers fall into Ben’s hair, gently dragging back and forth at the base of his skull while he continues, trying to bring him some comfort.

“Ben I’m so sorry.” You say when he finishes.

“It’s okay-“

“It’s not. Nothing they did to you is okay.”

“I deserved it.”

His words make an ice cold chill travel down your spine. It was the second time that he had said something like that tonight.

“Ben.”

You lean back from him to look him in the eye, but he won’t meet your gaze. Your hands cup his cheeks, his scruff prickling against your palms as you bring his attention to you. He looks lost and it scares you. Ben never did that. He was always together, it was you that usually had that haunting look in your eyes, but you could see what they did to him reflected in the familiar green. He looked worn.

“You didn’t deserve what they did to you. No one deserves that. And yeah maybe you said some shit you shouldn’t have and maybe you did something bad, but I never want to hear you say that again. Do you understand me? Never say that again. You didn’t deserve that. And I promise you that you’re never going back. I will not let them take you again.”

Ben nods once and your hands slip from his cheeks to go around his neck once more to pull him into a tight hug.

“I didn’t mean to hurt those people.” He mutters into the top of your head remembering what happened in Mid-town.

You had heard about it through Rosemary, who had several patients who had been hurt in the explosion, not to mention every news station seemed to have it on 24/7.

“I know. It’s okay. You just lost control. It happens to all of us.” You think about killing Countess. “It doesn’t make you a bad guy.”

“Hmm.”

It was weird for Ben to allow this, to allow you to hold him, but somewhere deep down you wondered if he always wanted you to, but he just never said and didn’t want to admit it out loud.

Weirder still was that he was holding you to him too, curling his arms around you and pulling you into his chest like you belonged there. And despite everything that happened, despite how angry you wanted to be, being here with him felt like you were coming home.

“You should sleep.” He whispers after a little while, as his hand trails down your spine, moving up and down in a soothing motion.

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“If you want me to be.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I always want you here.” You breathe into his skin. “I lied when I said I never wanted to see you again.”

“Then I will be.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head that makes you cuddle further into him, tightening your arms were they wrap around his neck to pull him into you.

And you hope that one day it won't hurt, that one day you won't hear the words he yelled at you, and that one day you can believe and trust him again like you did.

******************************************************

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126 @simplyfixated @sleepjam @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts @onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn @lifeonawhim @soldirboy @liuope @brynanna @carpenterswife @xxannyxx @babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit @valryomen @cassieriddle713 @shaggzthatsnottheworm @lil-soup @ej13928

#soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #jensen ackles #jackles #the boys #soldier boy fic #soldier boy x y/n #the boys series #the boys season 3 #You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

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tom-whore-dleston · 3 months

Text

Warning: Soldier Boy thots - Minors DNI

wanna talk about this gif but I will save that for another convo kgjadlkgjd

Thinking of Soldier Boy and his toned, muscular body. He’s so strong he can stand and carry you while fucking you silly. Since he’s a supe, it’s fairly easy for him to drape your legs over his forearms, grip your hips, and bounce you on top of his cock. Feeling his tip deep inside you makes you gush around him.

At first, the only grip you have on him is your nails clawing his back and shoulders. As his skin grew slick with sweat, you can only manage to hold his thick, golden brown hair. The moment you tug at the roots of his hair, Soldier Boy turns animalistic. His green eyes are blown with lust and he unleashes a growl that he only lets out on the battlefield.

Like a snap of the fingers, he mercilessly pumps you up and down his length as if you are a fleshlight. Except a plastic toy can’t feed into his inflated ego the way you do when you remind him how good he fucks you. Your moans are music to his ears and your facial expressions are a picture perfect view.

A few hard strokes later, you are twitching and screaming in his arms from a blissful orgasm. It’s only a matter of time before Soldier Boy holds your hips tightly against his to fill you with his cum.

#soldier boy #the boys #the boys series #jensen ackles #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy smut #soldier boy fic #soldier boy fan fic #soldier boy imagine #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles fanfiction #the boys fanfic #the boys fic

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zepskies · 5 days

Text

A Line and a Half

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Dory’s eldest brother comes to visit her at Wyoming University, you don’t know quite what to make of Russell Shaw. But he knows exactly what he wants to make of you.

AN: Okay, here’s my first toe-dip into the world of Tracker with Russell Shaw! 1x12 gave me too many ideas not to explore this intriguing character. This is set before episode 12, but I have a little series I want to sketch out that will continue after this one-shot, so think of this as a “Part 1,” if you will. 😉

Word Count: 3.2K

Tags/Warnings: A kind of “meet cute,” attempts at flirting, and hints of setup for more to come…

You watched, silently simmering, as Dr. Goldstein added yet another packet of internship applications from his graduate students onto your desk.

Applicants that he, as the History Department Chairman, was supposed to review himself. Instead, he’d been adding these hours quite literally onto your desk.

“If you could review these for me as well, sweetheart. Thank you,” he said. “Get ‘em back to me by Thursday, okay?”

As a Professor of History with two doctorates in your name, you once again grated internally at sweetheart, but you tried to keep that cringe off your face as well.

Goldstein barely even met your eyes when he dropped off his burden, and then aimed to leave your office.

“Uh, Paul,” you called out, raising a finger. You stood from your desk as quickly as you could in your pencil skirt, but the man was already out the door. You followed him out, your heels clacking on the tile floor.

Damn it. Knew I should’ve gone with pants, you said, continuing to hasten after your boss.

“Paul! Just a second,” you said. That finally managed to turn the man’s head off of his phone. He glanced at you while checking his watch.

“About the internship applications…and your midterm exam essays for that matter. Don’t you think—” you started to say, but the man spoke over you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Meeting my massage therapist at noon,” he said, and rolled a seemingly stiff shoulder under his tailored blazer. “Something’s just not right here after my trip to Cali last weekend. I don’t know what I did, pulled muscle or something. But hey, they do say parasailing is a sport.”

You quirked a brow. “Do they?”

You weren’t sure that being strapped into a parachute for a nice air glide over the Pacific counted as a sport.

Goldstein shrugged at your question and he kept walking down the hall. Though he turned back to toss you a pointed finger.

“Need those by Thursday. Thanks, you’re the best,” he said.

You watched him go, as proverbial steam began to escape through your ears. Slowly you pivoted on your heels, and you went back to your office. You grimaced at the large stack of applications. You were pretty sure he padded them with an extra section of midterm exams.

Tapping your nails on your desk, you grabbed your phone next to your desktop and checked the time. 11:30 a.m.

Screw it. I’m going to lunch, you thought.

Dory had to be out of her Intro Physics class by now, which meant she’d be in her office, ready for you to drop in on her a little early. You took up your purse and almost made it out the door…but at the last moment, your anal brain made you turn back to grab a shoulder bag and the pile of applications. Maybe you could knock out a few during lunch.

Friggin’ doormat, as your brother would say. Laughing at you, probably.

You rolled your eyes and headed back out the door with your haul of papers, purse, work bag, and keys, locking your office behind you.

Why, oh why did the Sciences building have to be on the other side of campus?

It was damn near a mile walk from your Humanities building over to Dory’s office on the second floor. Your hands were laden with packets that couldn’t be contained by your heavy work bag, your purse was slipping off your shoulder, and these heels were killing your feet.

It was a miracle you and Dory had ever met on this campus. On your first day of teaching, you’d of course been hopelessly lost. Somehow you ended up at the tail-end of one of her classes in one of the science auditoriums.

She’d been gracious enough to help you, and even walked you all the way to the Humanities building so you could find your World History class before the students decided to just get up and leave. (And after fifteen minutes, they very well would.)

That day, she became your first real friend at Wyoming University. In the three years since, she’d become your best friend.

And now, her door was mercifully open halfway. You pushed it open and stumbled just a little from the transition of tile to carpet inside her office. Your papers nearly flew from your hands, so you struggled to right yourself and contain them all back into the semblance of neatness.

“Hey, girl. You better be ready for lunch because Jesus fucking Christ. Goldstein’s up my ass again and all I’ve had today is a crusty donut from the teacher’s lounge, which I’m pretty sure was stale,” you said, with your brows furrowed in frustration.

When you finally looked up from your struggles, you realized that Dory wasn’t alone. She smiled at you in amusement, sitting at her desk beside a man who made you pause. Your eyes widened.

He was leaning casually with an elbow propped up on her desk, dressed in jeans and a worn, pale green jacket—a good match for his eyes. He looked a little rugged for Dory’s tastes, but you couldn’t fault her, with the cut of that bearded jaw, and the smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” Dory laughed. “I see you’re having a good day.”

You bit your lip in embarrassment, probably smudging your lipstick.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve knocked first,” you said, though you could see she seemed to be having an actual good day. Office picnic? Or maybe the handsome stranger was getting ready to take her out.

Dory just waved you in. She stood and set a hand on her companion’s shoulder, and he got up along with her.

“It’s okay. This is my brother, Russell,” she said, and she introduced you in kind.

“Well, hi there,” he said. He subtly took you in with his eyes as he held out his hand. Already you felt your face heating up with more than just embarrassment.

You were a bit shocked as well, to say the least. Dory had told you some…interesting things about her family, including the fact that she had two older brothers. You wondered which one this was, the middle child, or the eldest.

“Hi! Sorry. Again. Nice to meet you,” you said. You tried to hold your hand out to reach his, but a few papers began to spill out. You clutched at them on reflex, but Russell drew in quickly to help you.

“Got yourself a load there,” he said. You agreed with an awkward laugh and a shrug of your shoulders.

“My boss’s idea of extra credit,” you said wryly.

“You can set it down on that chair over there,” Dory said, pointing to one against the back wall, next to a tall filing cabinet.

You and Russell meandered over and managed to set down the stack without casualty. You were able to pull up the straps of your bag and your purse from falling off your shoulder and give him a grateful look.

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said, giving you an easy smile back. “I actually crashed in unannounced, so if you two wanna to head to lunch, you go right ahead.”

“Uh, no. I haven’t seen you in months! You should come with us,” Dory said. She grabbed her purse to join you and Russell by the door.

You raised your hands in placation. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially if it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. You guys should catch up.”

Dory shook her head and grabbed your hand.

“Uh, uh. I want to hear the latest on Paul’s bullshit, and why you’re carrying half your office across campus. Let’s go,” she said, and gestured at your work bag. “Leave that here. You’re gonna eat and talk to me. No working involved.”

You laughed, but you agreed to her cajoling. With another glance at her brother, and those green eyes that seemed to be dancing, you joined them for lunch.

The three of you ended up at a diner that you and Dory frequented at least once a week. The food was good, the service was quick, and it was close to campus. Wins all around. Russell seemed to be enjoying himself, as he hummed in delight after the very first bite of his Philly cheesesteak.

“Sriracha on fries, huh?” you remarked, gesturing at the man’s plate. Your brow was quirked, but he shot you a smile.

“I said avert your eyes,” he teased. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.”

Ugh. Another sweethearting man. You narrowed your own eyes at him a bit. He caught the look and raised a hand in defense (the one that wasn’t holding his cheesesteak).

“Uh oh. What’d I do?” he asked.

“You gave her some PTSD,” Dory said with a laugh. “Dr. Goldstein likes to sugar coat his demands with sexism.”

Russell noted your souring look with apology. You’d just finished recounting your morning for your friend, and recapping years of “sugar-coated demands” for Russell.

“Why don’t you just tell him to cram it up his…uh…” he paused. Seeing his little sister’s look of amusement, he amended. “Or you know, stuff it.”

A smile twitched at your lips. “Oh, believe me, I’d love to tell him to stuff it. But he’s technically my boss, and the department chair. Even though I’ve basically been doing his job for two years now.”

“Well, that sucks,” Russell said. “And I feel for ya. I’ve had my share of shitty bosses in my time.”

You sighed and accepted his commiseration with a nod.

It wasn’t fair, but Goldstein planned to retire early in a few years. Must be nice.

When he did, it would make you the most likely candidate to replace him as department chair. The way you saw it, this was giving you plenty of practice before you (hopefully) inherited the position.

Anyway, you shook your head. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were more curious about one Russell Shaw. You now knew he was an army vet, and he carried himself like one. Calm, controlled, even though his smiles came easy. His tousled hair and beard, while well-trimmed and neat, still gave him a roguish quality.

“So let me guess. You’re…the eldest?” you asked. You blotted at your mouth with a napkin, having finished your chicken panini.

Russell treated you to another one of those smiles, though this one held a hint of more.

“Guilty. Though I’m the handsome one,” he said with a wink.

You found yourself smiling behind your napkin.

“I’m sure,” you replied.

Dory rolled her eyes. ��Don’t mind him. Apparently my brother’s an incorrigible flirt.”

He chuckled and sipped at his beer, but then he grimaced.

“Ech. Friggin’ weak,” he said. “I brew better than this outta the trunk of my car.”

You raised a brow at that. “You make your own beer?”

“Damn straight,” he said. His gaze turned a hint more playful. “Next time I’ll bring you some. You can tell me what you think.”

You shared a telling look with Dory.

“Next time, huh?” you asked.

“Sure,” he inclined his head. “I pop into town from time to time. Gotta check in and pester my little sister, the physics professor.”

He laid a hand on Dory’s shoulder, squeezing warmly. You could see the pride in his eyes, and it warmed you as well.

She turned to him with a smile, reaching up to cover his hand with hers.

“You don’t pester me. I’d love it if I got to see you more often,” she said.

“Ah, I know, I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her. “My job’s got me all over the place. But I’ll be here for a week or so on this gig.”

That intrigued you. “What do you do for work?”

“Ah, well, you could say I'm a contractor. Private security mainly,” said Russell. His shoulders shifted as he became a little more guarded, you noticed. “My company connects me with the client for as long as the job lasts. Could be a few months, sometimes a few days, depending.”

“Oh, wow. Do you live here in Wyoming?” you asked. He paused, but tilted his head a little, back and forth as he considered your question.

“I kinda bounce around,” he said. “Just go from one job to the next. Sounds a bit unorthodox, I know, but it’s a living.”

“Interesting,” you nodded, but inside, you thought that sounded like a hard way to live.

Unstable…and lonely.

“You know, it’s amazing how much you and Colter have in common,” Dory said. She folded her hands on the table and met her brother with a pointed look.

He huffed in response, though he glanced at you, then back at his sister. As if he was saying, You really want to do this now?

Dory had told you before that Colter was a “rewardist,” or some kind of bounty hunter. The nature of his work kept him busy, and seemingly too busy for his sister. But you also sensed there was an edgier history here.

For the first time, you felt like you were intruding in a moment between brother and sister that went beyond words.

After a moment, Russell shook his head.

“Look, I tried with him, all right? He won’t talk to me,” he said. He went back to eating, polishing off his fries. He offered you one that was half-smothered in sriracha.

“Come on. Live on the edge with me,” he teased.

You eyed the sauce-covered fry in distaste, but after glancing up at his more playful smile, you accepted his offer. You chewed in contemplation, and found that the tangy hint of kick wasn’t so bad.

“Eh? Eeeh? Delicious, am I right?” he said, his hands going wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded in agreement.

“It’s all right,” you replied.

“Yes!” Russell’s hands swept up higher, like he was celebrating a touchdown. "See, I told ya."

You couldn’t help but laugh. Dory shook her head fondly and gave him a clean napkin for the bit of schmutz she spotted at the corner of his mouth.

“Here, wipe your sriracha face.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said, as Russell helped you gathered your stack of papers and slung your work bag over his shoulder.

“No, no. I’m a bonafide gentleman. Ain’t that right, D?” he asked his sister. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, but she did give you a knowing smile.

“Oh, his intentions are pure,” she said.

And by that, you both understood her meaning. His intentions couldn’t be any clearer than a mallet over the head, but you kind of found it endearing.

This man really carried your stuff from the Sciences building across the entire campus to your office. All the while, he asked you about how you and Dory met, the kinds of things you two did together, and if you thought she was happy working here.

You had a feeling he was trying to learn more about his sister’s life. On one hand, it was rather sweet. On the other, it made you realize that there was distance in this family, both literal and figurative. You were glad to hear that Russell, at least, was trying to bridge that gap with his sister. Dory deserved to have more of that in her life.

As you explained to Russell while you led him down the hall to your office, your friendship with her had just…clicked. From the very beginning.

“Dory, you know. She’s more than kind,” you said. “She’s a real one. I can rely on her, even when I can’t rely on my own family.”

Russell hummed at that. “That sounds like a story.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away for a moment. You smiled and met his gaze once more. “Maybe one for another time.”

“So you’re on board with a ‘next time.’ Good to know,” Russell remarked. Your smile deepened.

It was good timing when you two finally reached your office. You unlocked it and let him inside, so he could set down your bag, and the god-forsaken stack of internship applications back onto your desk. You’d probably be stuck here working late on those.

“Well, thank you so much. You really didn’t have to schlep for me,” you said.

When you turned, Russell was a bit close. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make a trill of something zip up your spine. You smelled more intensely his cologne, woodsy and warm. Looking up at him, you once again found his smile.

“It’s no problem,” he said, but his eyes met yours for a moment, as if he lost his train of thought.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous.

“Anybody ever tell you, you got soulful eyes?” he asked.

It took your brain a second or two to compute, but when his words registered, you had to laugh. You held it behind your hand, while the other went to steady yourself on your desk.

“Well, that’s a line if I’ve ever heard one,” you said, shading your “soulful” eyes with a hand.

You didn’t know it, but Russell’s face warmed in slight embarrassment. He recovered though, taking in your pretty laugh, and the shade of your hair, let loose around your shoulders, and yes, your eyes, when you let him see them again.

If he hadn’t known before, now he was convinced.

He wanted to see more of you before he left town.

“Hey, now that was 100% genuine,” Russell said, but his grin spoke volumes. When your mirth died down, he scratched the back of his head.

“Okay, cards on the table. Would you be interested in grabbing a drink with me sometime?” he asked.

You took in a breath at that. You actually did consider his offer, because homebrew and sriracha fries be damned, there was something more to him. It was lying in wait, behind those eyes that were drawing you in.

However, this was also a man whose job basically made him a nomad. It didn’t exactly scream relationship material.

Which only left the alternative: something…casual.

You just didn’t know if that alternative was such a good idea. Not with your best friend’s brother.

“Just a drink. No frills, no more grilling you about my sister,” Russell said, breaking you from your deliberation. He gestured a hand between the two of you. “Just this. You and me.”

Eventually, you sighed. Your lips raised into a more genuine smile.

“Sometime, huh?” you asked.

He smiled back. “Tonight?”

You hesitated, but despite your better judgment, you nodded before you could change your mind. You still weren’t sure what to make of this guy, but you were willing to find out.

“Sure,” you said. “Howley’s at eight?”

“Well, all right,” Russell said.

He surprised you by sweeping up your hand into his. You looked up at him, curious, but not wary. Anticipation tingled down your spine.

He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. Soft shock made your eyes widen as you blushed, feeling the subtle graze of his beard against your skin.

Who is this guy, Cary Grant? you thought.

But when he pulled away, you had to remind yourself to breathe. Again, you caught sight of his cheeky grin.

“See you tonight,” he said.

AN: He is beauty he is grace, he is Mr. Sriracha Face. 😆

Let me know if you guys liked this! 💜 It's my first time writing a character based solely on one episode, but I'm already sketching out my outline for the little series that will continue this one-shot, tentatively titled "Every Second Counts."

Stay tuned! 😘

Russell Shaw Masterlist

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Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

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