#the boys soldier boy oneshot

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

Sweet Thoughts

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Summary: When her shop is trashed and robbed, Y/n is scared to go to work. Fortunately, a superhero offers help and protection. But those services aren’t free. And one day, he reclaims his payment.

Word Count: 4238

Pairing: Soldier Boy x F!Reader

Warning: SMUT, dub-con, p in v, unprotected sex, manipulation, coercion, grooming, Soldier Boy being an asshole very full of himself, break in, robbery, toxic masculinity

Square: @howbadcanitbebingo Historically Incorrect / @anyfandomdarkbingo​: Grooming

A/n: Hello everyone! So this fic was requested by @lifeissomethingelse​​​! I really wanted to set up this fic in the 1980, but then, historically, it wouldn’t work. There wasn’t really any pastry shop back then, let alone owned by a woman. So for the purpose of this fic and the bingo how bad can it be, I decided… Fuck it! Enjoy, and let me know your thoughts about it! This was also for @writercole​​ millennial challenge with the song (You drive me) Crazy by Britney Spears!

Soldier Boy POV

There was a sweetness in her that was addictive.

Just like his favourite pastry. Sugary, soft, too pretty to consume but yet, it was impossible to not lay his eyes on her and wanting her. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t interested in him, or if she wasn’t available. When Ben laid his eyes on her, it was exactly as if he just discovered the true meaning of hungry. Just looking at her left his mouth watering, his tongue licking his lips slowly as his green eyes detailed her through the window of her shop.

The pastry shop opened a couple of months ago, but never before he noticed. Of course, he smelled the delicious cakes they baked there everytime he walked by. Saw people entering and leaving with their arms full of delicious looking food, a smile stuck on their faces.

But it was the first time he truly saw her.

Soldier Boy was a superhero, so he wasn’t used to getting no as an answer. After all, he was a strong, beautiful man, every woman always looked at him like he was some kind of god. It was barely if they could hold themselves back from getting on their knees in front of him, begging to choke on his cock.

The small bell rang when Ben opened the door to enter the shop. Inside, it smelled even better. It reminded him of when he used to go to his grandma’s house back in the day. Hot summer days when she baked too many pies for the mouths she had to feed. He would always bring the extra back with him and his house would smell of those bakeries for days after the boxes were empty.

His dad hated that. Said eating too much would make him fat, not that it really mattered anyway.

Ben was always a fucking disapointment to him.

“Hello there,” Ben said, walking around the line of customers waiting to be served to speak directly to the girl. Laying an arm against the top of the showcase where the pastry where displayed, he flexed his arms subtly, just enough to show his muscles through his green costume.

“Welcome,” the girl immediately answered, a big, polite and oh so cute and pure smile on her face. Her hands rested against her apron and she took the time to look at him up and down before speaking again. “Please, if you want to purchase something, the end of the line is right there,” she politely gestured towards the door where the last customer was.

That took Ben by surprise. Not only did she deny him immediately after looking at him all over, clearly noticing he was a superhero, but she also asked him in the most polite way to make the line?

There was not an ounce of anger in her voice that betrayed her beautiful face as she turned her attention back to the customer in the front line to take their order.

Soldier Boy puffed his chest, not believing his eyes. “Sorry,” he said, pushing the customer aside to be in front of the girl. Her smile stayed on her face, but he could see and hear the barely perceptible sigh as she realised the customer he was would be troublesome. “Do you know who I am?” Ben grinned, opened his arms and pointed at himself.

“You’re Soldier Boy,” the girl answered, and that only made him grin harder. Of course she knew who he was. Another fan. No one could resist him. “But you need to make the line like everyone else, please,” she added. The sweetness of her tone betrayed her words and for a moment, Ben was sure she was actually asking for his order. 

Soldier Boy stopped before speaking. The girl was looking at him, and he knew everyone else was too. He could hear their heartbeats getting faster with the annoyance growing up.

“Fine,” he grumbled, rolled his eyes and walked to the back where the line ended. 

While he waited, Ben couldn’t believe how he was denied. Minutes passed that allowed him to think of a comeback, something he would tell her that would immediately make her fall on her knees for him. So stuck in his head, his ego clearly more disturbed than he wanted to admit, Ben didn’t even notice it was his turn.

“Soldier Boy, it’s your turn,” the voice of an angel brought him back from his head. As he walked closer to the counter, he cleared his throat, trying to use his most deep and sexy voice he knew women liked. “Thank you so much for waiting. What can I get you?” 

Once again, the sweetness emanating from her took him off guard. How could someone so pretty, so innocent, so sweet and kind, could be alive at the same time as him, in the same town, and he only finds her now? 

Now that he was close to her and that there were no unwanted and annoying people around, he could take the time to better admire her and breathe her all in. The smell of the pastry was nothing compared to her fragrance. She smelled sweet, like honey, like bread baking in the oven, and those smells were probably from working here all day. There was the natural smell of sweat, but he only noticed it thanks to the V bathing in his veins that enhanced his senses. 

Her face was simply perfect. To her eyes, her nose, her lips, everything looked simply delicious.

She was driving him crazy.

“I’ll take your favourite thing in the shop,” he said after a while of admiring her. Then, his signature grin stretched his lips. “And then, I’ll take you. On a date.”

This seemed to take her by surprise, because it took her a couple of seconds to react. Heat went up in her face and she avoided his gaze, clearly embarrassed by the flirtation, like no man ever tried that tactic before.

As she picked up a napkin and a bag, she put a pastry in it, not that Ben cared what it was, and placed it on the counter. “That’ll be fifteen cents please.”

His suits had pockets, it wasn’t the problem. But never before did he have to pay for things he wanted, so of course, Soldier Boy didn’t have anything on him. “I must have forgotten my wallet at home,” he offered her one of his knockout smiles, knowing it would work.

It always did.

“Usually, I would have said to come back with the money, but since you’ve been kind enough to make the line, here,” she smiled, handing him the bag with the pastry. “It’s on the house.”

“Thank you,” Soldier Boy took the bag, making sure to brush his fingers against the soft skin of her hand. “So, when does your shift end?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, implying the meaning of his question that way.

“We close at 8pm,” she answered, and he was sure it meant a yes, but the smile she now had on her face was a sorry smile. A smile that meant no.

No.

No one ever told him no before.

“I’ll pick you up at 8 then,” he said, acting like he didn’t understand.

“Soldier Boy,” the girl interrupted him before he left. “It’s not… I’m really flattered, really, but I am… not interested,” she put it simply.

It was like she took his knife and stabbed him right in the middle of the chest. He was being denied. Refused. She refused him.

It was the first time. And it should’ve made him angry, but it did the opposite. Being denied just increased the want. The need. The challenge.

She would be his no matter what.

“Alright,” Soldier Boy shrugged like it was no big deal. Walking closer again, he whispered his next words. “Be careful, it can become scary at night.” Knowing his words had the effect he wanted on her, the hero stepped back, offered her another grin and started walking towards the exit. “By the way, what’s your name?” He asked just before leaving.

“Y/n,” the girl answered. There was no smile anymore on her face, and his super hearing informed him her heart was now beating faster.

“Well, I’ll see you around, Y/n. Thanks again for the food.”

-

Your POV

It was a long day. Usually, when the shop is that busy, you always have one or two more employees that help, but today was just…

And there had been weird people coming in and out. 

One in particular couldn’t leave your mind. How he talked to you and flirted with you, even asked you on a date, it was still so overwhelming, you had no idea how you managed to stay so calm while telling him no. You had to admit, he was hot as hell, and popular, and a hero, and he asked you out?

It was way past 8pm and you just finished closing everything. Once it was done, you walked to the front door, locked it, and started heading home.

“Crap,” you muttered, looking everywhere in your purse without finding it. You forgot your wallet in the shop. Turning around, you headed back towards the place when suddenly, you heard it.

Windows being broken. Things getting trashed out.

“No no no!” You started running towards the noise, hoping so much it wasn’t your shop that was being vandalised and robbed. But the closer you got, the more your hope disappeared. 

It was a complete disaster. The bay window was broken, and inside, there was glass on the floor, chairs had been broken, and a silhouette was right where the cash register was. Metallic noises informed you he was trying to force it open.

The thief was still there.

Stepping back slowly, you tried to not be seen. Your shop was a mess, but if the person saw there was a witness, it could end very badly for you. But then, something broke under your foot, making way too much noise, and you froze on the spot. The burglar stopped trying to open the register and you swore he was now looking at you. It was too dark to see anything but the frame and the shadow of a person, but you knew his eyes were staring right at you.

Strength finally filled your legs, or maybe it was adrenaline, and you were running away from the scene. Hoping to meet anyone that would be outside so late, anybody to help you.

Glancing back, you checked to see if he was close when your body met something hard and firm. You gasped, your scream stuck in your throat, fear so strong in your body as you thought the burglar caught you. You struggled against the hold of the body, but it was no use. He was stronger.

“Y/n? Is that you?”

You recognized the voice immediately. It wasn’t hard, he left quite the impression when he came by to your shop earlier. You stopped struggling to look up and the tears ran down your cheeks when you saw his face. 

“Help me please,” you begged, hugging him like he was the buoy that would keep you from drowning. “There’s someone in the shop, they…”

“Don’t worry, I’m there,” Soldier Boy affirmed in a steady, strong voice. “I’ll save you.”

-

After that night, you’ve been afraid to leave work alone. Even going to work in bright daylight when there were witnesses everywhere scared you.

Solder Boy didn’t find anyone when he checked your shop that night. But the cost of the reparations were way too high for you, so now, you had to work twice as much. You couldn’t afford being afraid. So of course, when he proposed to protect you and your shop and didn’t ask money for it, you accepted.

That was one of your mistakes. Yes, he refused money. But he never said it was free. 

At first, everything was perfect.

Soldier Boy would be at your door in the morning, waiting for you to be ready to walk with you to work. Sometimes, he would be stopped by fans asking for autographs, which he would always accept with a big grin. It would never make you arrive late, though. 

Then, once you were safe, he would leave you as long as there was someone else with you in the shop. In the evening, he would be back and make the close with you, or simply take a seat and watch you as you cleaned the place. Then he walked you back home.

As days passed, you discovered he was actually really a good guy, doing all of that for you. Or maybe you were simply blinded by the safety that having a superhero such as him as a bodyguard brought you. Because you did feel safe. So safe.

After two weeks, you had enough savings to repair what had been destroyed inside the shop. The front window was the first thing you repaired so you could open again to get customers and sell again. 

And two weeks later, Soldier Boy asked for his payment.

You were at the back that day, in the kitchen. The baker was sick, so you placed your other employee at the front since they were still in training. The breads were slowly getting made, you had dough all over your apron and clothes and were very focused, so much you didn’t notice he was there. You only knew when you felt his hands on your waist.

“Gosh! You scared me,” you sighed as you turned to him. “The shop only closes in 4 hours, you know that, right?” You added when you saw him with his costume and shield on, with the exception of his mask. God, he had beautiful hair underneath, it looked so soft and-

“I protected you almost everyday for two weeks. I think it’s time I get my payment. Or my reward, in this case.”

You looked at him and frowned. Even if Soldier Boy didn’t have his mask on, he still had a mask on his face that hid everything. He showed no emotions.

Expressionless. Staring at you, barely blinking. A small grin at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, of course,” you nodded, wiping your hands on your apron. “How much do you want?”

If, at first, you felt safe with him, it was totally the opposite right now. As he waited for you to answer, you could feel it, his strong, dominant aura. Soldier Boy wanted something, and you knew he would do anything to get it. 

He scared you.

“I told you, I want no money. I don’t need money,” Soldier Boy answered, stepping closer to you. 

You swallowed hard, fear starting to get stronger inside of you. Stepping back, you forced your gaze to stay anchored in his and not show him how scared you actually were. “What… Do you want, then?”

How naive and innocent of you. You knew what he wanted. It was clear. Obvious. So obvious.

“Since the first time I laid my eyes on you,” Soldier Boy kept getting closer, and you couldn’t move away anymore, trapped between him and the table. “I wanted you. And I always get what I want.”

“Please,” you started to beg, but a finger laid gently on your lips to silence you. Every movement he made was slow. Soft. Calculated. Like he was a predator hunting a poor little scared prey.

“Don’t cry. I won’t force you. This is payment for my services. It is a fair deal. So, be a good girl, turn around and bend over. You’ll love this, I promise.”

You looked into his eyes. His pupils looked so blown out, almost all the green was gone. As he waited for your answer, his fingers stroked your cheek, lowering down to trace your jaw, and settled softly against your throat.

He was right, after all. You owed him. He was protecting you, and protecting your shop. It was only normal to give him what he wanted as payment, right? And after all… It wasn’t like you never thought about it, thought about how it would feel to have sex with the superhero.

So you obeyed.

Soldier Boy pinned you against the table, flour flying around as you tried to hold on against anything. Your face was right next to the bread you were making, and you looked at it while he lifted up your skirt and lowered your underwear. You kept on looking at it as he touched you all over, whispering things like how pretty you were, how soft your skin was and how good it would feel. And you couldn’t deny it no more, it already felt good, the praising, the touching, and despite the trap this actually was, you were turned on.

“Be sure to stay quiet…”

Like you were the most important and precious thing he owned, Soldier Boy went slowly. He held you tight, but not tight enough to hurt. As you felt his length stretching you open, you almost let a moan slip out, but his fingerless gloved hand immediately blocked the noise as he pressed it on your mouth. You understood the assignment and stayed quiet as he bottomed out.

“Good girl, taking me so well… Gonna remove my hand now and I’ll start moving, be sure to stay quiet for me, all right?”

His voice was so rough, it was like sandpaper scraping your skin. Or maybe it was his beard as he kissed your neck, making sure to leave marks everywhere he could. Marking you as his.

You nodded against the table, and then, he started to move.

At first, it was slow, and you managed to stifle your moans by biting on your lips hard enough to hurt. But then, he sped up his thrusts, and it felt so good, you were crying and whimpering under him. Your fist was in your mouth and you were biting it, anything to not make a single noise.

A hand on your throat warned you to do better than this and you clenched around him, trying to make him go slower because you wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer. Soldier Boy redressed your body, your back flush against his torso, your hands barely touching the table anymore. In that position, he was even deeper but couldn’t go as fast. Still, he was deep, completely inside of you, and each thrust was well rough. 

It felt so good. So perfect. All you wanted was to tell him how good it felt and beg. For him to slow down or go faster, you didn’t know anymore. But all that escaped was a gasp as one of your hands rested on his, still on your throat.

Then, you understood why he put you in that position. Because that way, you could see the front of the shop through the small window of the kitchen. Could see all the customers and your employee. If you made any noise, they would hear. Turn their head and see Soldier Boy, balls deep inside of you, fucking you like you were only his toy.

You had no idea why, but that thought turned you on so fucking much. Your legs started shaking, your cunt throbbed and clenched and you closed your eyes, trying so hard to hold back the orgasm that was coming at full speed. Soldier Boy must have known, felt it, because next thing, his hand was on your mouth and he was ramming inside of you faster and deeper, and it felt so good, you came right there and then. Juice of pleasure went down your legs and soaked his pants, you were sure of that. 

But he never slowed down or stopped.

“You’re mine. You understand?” His voice whispered against your ears as his thrusts became uneven, and then you felt it. His cock throbbing inside of you, you could feel it with how deep he was inside of you, and then the ropes of cum filling you up as he came with a roar against your ear.

Exhausted, you could only fall back against the table. More flour flew around under the impact.

Soldier Boy pulled up your underwear, at least he had the decency to dress you up again. “Keep that inside,” he ordered, referring to his cum. His fingers pushed against your entrance above the tissue. “For the rest of the day. If you do that, then I’ll keep protecting you and your shop. Understood?”

“Y/n? We’re gonna need more bread soon!” A voice made from the front of the shop before you could answer. Gathering your last strength, you resumed a normal standing position just before your employee entered the kitchen. “Oh, I see you’ve been busy,” the employee noticed, and a wave of fear and shame drowned you for a second. You clenched around nothing and felt some of his cum leaking in your underwear. You had to be careful or else it would end up spilling through the clothing.

“I.. Uh…” you glanced behind you, but Soldier Boy was gone. “Yeah. Bread is coming, sorry,” you apologised. Your employee nodded and headed back to their post.

That was a close one.

Everyday after that, Soldier Boy came by to collect his payment. Each time, he had another request, or else, he would stop protecting you. At first, the blackmail was upsetting you, of course, you felt betrayed by the hero. But everytime he thrusted inside of you and fucked you to midnight, your head was becoming so fuzzy, you didn’t care at all about the why or how bad the situation actually was.

And then weeks passed, and you didn’t care about it anymore. All you wanted was his cock inside of you. His large, wide and rough hands, everywhere on your body. His scent wouldn’t leave your mind, driving you crazy at the point you had trouble falling asleep. You craved him. You would do anything for him. You needed him so bad.

A couple of weeks later, Soldier Boy had asked you to only wear an apron and work in the kitchen. You did as he told you and started baking donuts while waiting, but to be honest, the excitement was so strong, all you could think about as you made the correct form of the pastry was…

Your empty, leaking hole waiting to be filled.

“Good girl,” his voice reached your ears, and you felt yourself becoming even more aroused just hearing his voice. Hands slapped your ass cheeks and then spread them and you felt him stare at your privacy. Of course it was embarrassing. But you needed him too much to care. “I see you missed me,” he added and without even seeing him, you knew he had a big grin on his face.

Bending you again against the table, Soldier Boy slidded home, where he belonged. His cock felt so good, you moaned softly for only him to hear. 

“You’ve been so good to me, I think I’ll let you in on a little secret,” his thrusts always started slow, just like every time, he was discovering your pussy and wanted to feel every inch of it around his shaft. Taking his sweet time, building up the tension and the pleasure, and then he would ram inside of you until you couldn’t stand up and would see stars. “See,” his torso pressed against your naked back, it hurt a little, but the pleasure was way too strong for you to care. The anticipation of the moment he would fuck you hard and fast and make you cum. “I’m the one that trashed your shop and stole your money.”

That revelation should have given you a reaction. Anger. Betrayal. Fear.

But his hips had sped up, he was fucking you fast now, his grunts could only be heard because his mouth was close to your ear. Your head was becoming fuzzy again, it felt good, and you had to focus everything you had left on not making a sound. “Wh…What do… You mean…” You managed to say between two stifled moans.

“Baby, I'm so into you… You got that something, what can I do?” He said instead of answering. His strong hands squeezed your hips and a slap landed on your ass, almost breaking your lips with the moan that threatened to escape. “No one tells me no. I had to give you a reason…”

You were about to answer when a rougher thrust made you lose your balance and a shy moan escaped your vigilance.

“You drive me crazy… Sweet, sweet little Y/n…”

He manipulated you from the start. Lied to you. Destroyed your shop, created a strong fear in you that would make you dependent of him. And then, when it was time, he reclaimed his payment. And only when you were too deeply addicted to him did he reveal the truth. 

“Tell me you're so into me, that I'm the only one you will see, and I’ll swear you’ll never need anyone else to protect you and satisfy you.”

How could you say no? You couldn’t even think. As he fucked you hard and fast, just like you liked, it was impossible to have coherent thoughts.

And anyway, you were already in too deep.

“I’m… Yours… Always…”

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245​​​ @b3autyfuldisast3r​​​ @eevvvaa​​​​ @fictional-affairs​​​ @wickedinspirations​​​ @awkward-and-indecisive​​​

Soldier Boy Taglist: @akshi8278​​

[deanoheartspie]

No, No don't look at me with those eyes

Pairing: Butchers sister reader x Soldier boy

Warnings: Slight Smut, arguing, Dry humping, nicknames

A/n: This was Requested! I ain't the best at smut but I try lol, so I hope this is alright.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

“What the hell was that? You were supposed to help me not injure me” You shout as you cross your arms, laying back on the dusty couch in the motel room. Butcher didn't know that the green-eyed supe had injured you, you simply lied when you got asked.

'Soldier boy' or Ben, but the two of you haven't gotten on a first-name basis not quite yet was pacing around the room running his finger through his hair. “I didn't mean to. The kid who's always sucking your brother's dick distracted me”

You raise a brow, “Hughie?”

“I don't fucking know, I think so? Anyways I think I know how to help you feel better princess” The sudden nickname, caused you to look at him confused with a faint blush displayed right on your cheeks.

That little action, only caused Soldier boys ego to grow and get more confident as he picked you up sitting you down on his lap, while he was careful with your Injured wrist. He lifts your long t-shirt pulling it off, revealing your lace Bra and pantie set. “Well damn Princess” Licking his lips, he pulls you into a long deep kiss as his hands travel down.

You grind against his leg, trying to gain some friction. Letting little moans slip out, as the older man grabbed at your hips, moving you quicker against his thigh. “Never thought you'd be such a dirty girl” He smirks as he leaves love bites on your neck.

Right, when things were getting good, the motel door creaks open and he immediately stands you up ushering you into the bathroom. “Where Y/n? How's she feeling?” Hughie asks as Butcher follows behind tossing a burger at the supe.

“I'm right here, im fine” you reply with a short smile, as he glances at Soldier Boy and he shakes his head and whispers. “No, no don't look at me with those eyes”

[thewritersaddictions]

Day One: Soldier Boy + Baby It's Cold Outside

It's late december when Ben comes back from yet another search for a Vought member. He's not really a fan of christmas having never really gotten the things he wanted during his childhood.

The first time Ben hears the song it's during his time away at war. Ben is just thirty, and he loves music. Warming his heart in a way that not much else can. He hums to himself during his time away at war, and as his mother used to. It keeps him clam, and striaght with his thoughts.

It's when Vought takes Ben to be their test subject and their propaganda device, does the song come back to him. Years had passed, Vought wanted, and tried like hell to make the face of thier company sell.

What was worth selling? Sex has alway sold, and by the standards of the world then and now Ben is a deliciously sexy man. Now mix that together with money and you've pretty much got yourself anything you can dream of.

It forces Ben, or what Vought called him "Soldier Boy" to become apart of a few things. Movie titles, pinup posters, and songs. During the sevetnies, and eighties when the tech get's better the songs he laid down on records turned into shitty music videos.

During christmas time one of the years before he was caught by the russians. He does yet another albums filled with winter songs. Speicallifly the song he had used to keep himself level headed during the war, down in the trenches dirt and blood splattering his face.

Shaking the thought he does what he's told, and sings the song. That damn song that has been stuck to him like glue for the past twenty years at least. Ben does a few good things before getting caught by the Russians like buying the song on record his version and the orginal stuffing them away with other importnat documents, and things from his childhood.

Ben can see the stupid LED christmas lights from the apartments window as he walks up his duffel over his shoulder. With that he jams the brass key into the lock twisting and turning the knob before the door gives and he's let in. The lights are dimly light, and the sound of the tv plays in the background.

"I'm home." He says loudly so you can hear over the tv. He can the scampering of your feet on the hardwood, as he drops the duffel kicks the door shut with his boots, and sits down to unlace his boots.

Theres that beautiful smile he wishes he could see everyday whenever he's away. "Hey beautiful." He says with a contentment that you can hear in his voice. You smile sweetly down at him, and when ben gets up from his kneeled postion you smother him kisses.

You taste of choclate and mint, "What have you been up to while I've been gone?" He asks even though he really doesn't have to. The apartment is decorated ceiling to floor in christmas decorations. Ben feels as if he just walked into a christmas store, or maybe a hallmark.

"Well," You start with a smile written all over your face, "I've been trying to get into the sprit of christmas, and  I pulled some of your old records out looking for something a least a little bit chirstmassy." The words "your records."

"You weren't through my things?" Ben doesn't mean for the words to come out so harsh, but they do. Ben is and has always been protective of what he has and that includes you, but he wishes you could have waited till he was home and you had asked him instead.

The smile on your face starts to fall you open your mouth open to apoliges, but nothing comes out. You drop your hand from his, and get quiet moving over to the couch. "I'm sorry Ben." The tv is still playing but the sound is lower.

Ben can feel the tension in the air. Thick and it annoys him. He forgets just how sensitive you can be not used to being home just yet. Ben needs a drink before he can deal with that mess he's created.

He leaves you in the living for now, to mutter in your feelings while he finds in the kitchen a jug of eggnog. An old recipe card sits out, he internally groans. 'Fuck you for being so damn sweet to him.' and 'Fuck him for having such a sweet spot for you.' He pour himself a glass and it hits him with a tingle down his thoart. His eyes scan over the recipe card, In cursive, "Just a dash or two cups of whiskey."

He can't hear you, but cna hear the tv. He rolls his eyes has he pour himself anther cup, and you one as well. When he comes out of the kitchen you are right where he left you. Setting your cup on the side tablebut not before you move a coastar underneath it. He set his cup down on the other coastar. The silence isn't uncomfortable for Ben, but he can feel you messin' with your fingers and nails. He starts to scan what you took out. His records, and one catches his eye.

He slides his fingers over the old package, and pulls the record from the safety of it's home. The record is safe from marks, or scratches and so Ben slips it onto the record player. Grabbing the remote, turning the tv off.

"Listen baby," You don't look at him, "Honey, look at me." Your eyes are glazed with hurt, but you look at him anyways. He has to stifle his laugh at how adorable you look right now for him.

"I'm sorry for being short with you, you know it takes me a few hours to get back and used to being home with you love. Now get up here and let me fix it." Ben says, reaching out his hand palm up so your much smaller hand can fit right in it. You chew your bottom lip for a moment like your thinking of denying him, but as much as Ben's missed you you've missed him tenfold.

You grab his hand and Ben pulls you up effortlessly. He smiles for the first time since he arrived home, and your shoulders fall with contentment. Ben only lets go of your hand for a few seconds just enough to let the needle fall on the record and his hands to slip back into yours. One hand holding onto your hand and the other your waist. The two of you sway as the music crackles and then starts to play.

You rest your head against his large chest, and breathe him in. The first few tracks are not the song Ben's looking for, but he waits patiently. He likes being able to hold you like this, there's no rhythm or reason to your swaying.

That is until the song Ben had been waiting for hit his ears. The songs start slow, and then your movements become more fluid. Your socks glide on the carpet, and even if you accidentally step on Ben's feet he is still okay with having you in his arms. By the chorus of the song Ben's humming in your ear with his hand holding you with a warm grip 'round our waist.

"You'll sing it for me?" You ask with your cheek pressed into his chest. Ben's humming stops and for a moment so does the little swaying the two of you have gotten into. Ben thinks for a moment, "Maybe sweetheart. Maybe." But he can already feel you getting excited at the thought of him singing, "But for now can you take the hummin' and the swayin'?" He asks, putting a stray piece of hair behind your ear. Nodding, you place your head back on his chest, swaying, and humming resumes.

Completed on: 10/06/23

Posted on: 12/01/23

The Anti-Hero-

The Boys Master List // The Anti-Hero Master List // Christmas Stoires Master List

[admirxation]

in that case... something nsfw with soldier boy? i was thinking him being a dom but then getting more sub as things go if it makes sense? 😏

Heya anon! Thank you so much for the request, I hope this lives up to your expectations. Love Soldier Boy sm so I’m glad I got to write for him !

Everyone that likes it, please like and reblog (it rlly helps) and if you're interested maybe read some more of my stuff? click here for masterlist.

Also, I have a Kofi, if anyone is willing to donate the link is here (you don't have to donate ik this economy is awful) <3

Dynamic Change | Soldier Boy one shot request

Pairing: Soldier boy x fem!reader (afab)

Summary: Soldier Boy is the answer to stop Homelander, Butcher's secret weapon, to get his revenge. While you're sceptical of this idea — sharing M.M’s concerns — you decide to just roll with the punches and see what happens. While waiting for Butcher and Hughie, you have to sit around and catch Soldier Boy up with the 21st century and try to keep him happy, convincing him to partner up and heal from his team's betrayal — but soldier boy notices something in you and wants to change the subject.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: NSFW 18+, so MINORS DNI. Female anatomy is used for the reader, and she/her pronouns and the reader is similar to Kimiko with enhanced strength because of compound v experiments. Detailed smut: dominance and submission (m starts dom and switches), pinning up against the wall, dirty talk, neck kissing, neck biting, thigh fucking, hair pulling, pushing to the bed with enhanced strength, f on top, p in v, cumming inside and begging.

As the evening sun cast a long shadow across the room, Soldier Boy sat in the bed and was dumbfounded at this strange and unique experience. He was a relic of the past; disorientated and confused, he found himself surrounded by an unfamiliar world of technology and societal changes. 

He was the key to Butcher’s new plan, the weapon to use against Homelander, but the one thing that was in his way was that Soldier Boy wasn’t complying with the “team up”. You, like M.M., were sceptical of all of this; could you really trust a supe to destroy another? Especially when looking at his history. But this feeling didn’t last long; you decided that this was the only option to get revenge that everyone was craving — to get Homelander to suffer finally. 

You were sitting on the sofa waiting for Butcher and Hughie to return; they told you they were running a few errands, which you knew meant ‘he’s your problem until we get back’. It wasn’t like you were in a vulnerable position, especially with the compound V that coursed through your veins and was the catalyst for your misery. It was something you and Kimiko could relate to; after learning her variation of sign language, you became closer and became each other’s comfort; you were similar to her in having enhanced strength, and this was another key component to the team — after Butcher was comfortable enough to accept you. After all, he couldn’t say no to extra manpower, especially when going against the worst villains. 

You looked to your side to look at Soldier Boy holding an empty bottle as he watched the television; he seemed to be in a sense of comfort but also tense with trying to understand the new world. Every joke that happened, every bit of news and culture change was swirling through his mind; you felt bad for him and wondered what it would be like to be in his shoes — frozen and betrayed. This sympathy lasted until his intolerance slowly emerged; you tried to ignore him and understand that he was literally from a different time. Your modern presumptions were unfair, but that was still a hard pill to swallow.

“What the fuck is that?” he questioned with an exclamatory tone. 

“What? The guy with his baby?”

You were watching the adverts, which showed a device a man could use to have his baby close to him, to help fathers. 

“That’s what being manly is now?” he took another sip of his new and fresh bottle, “Man, you lot went soft.”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to rock the boat too hard. You didn’t want to have to answer to Butcher if you ruined all his plans. You had powers but were still intimidated by Butcher; after getting into trouble with Vought, you didn’t want to face the future alone without your team.

“Just a man wanting to be with his baby… Probably helps the wife out as well,” you paused momentarily, “I know it’s a shock, but we don’t live in the detergent commercial anymore; things changed.”

Soldier Boy furrowed his brows, looking at you with a confused expression. 

“Personally, I think it’s sweet to see a man care that much about his child; it shows he doesn’t want to leave the mother and the child,” you felt the need to stand up for your beliefs around him. 

Soldier Boy started to look away from you and thought about your words; you could tell he was slowly seeing your point while thinking he couldn’t be caught wearing the contraption. He knew that being frozen didn’t damage his intelligence. 

“I know what you mean… I always wanted children.”

You were surprised; the Soldier Boy wanted children; he seemed like the player that would never properly settle down with anyone; you also felt a strange feeling with acknowledging that this was the beginning of Soldier Boy being vulnerable with you, wanting to break some barriers. 

“Really, Soldier Boy, wanting children… Don’t take offence, but I never thought about that.”

“I don’t take offence,” he paused momentarily, “Also, just call me Ben… I know you by Y/N, not your hero name.”

“I don’t have one.”

“What? But —”

“Forced to have it,” you took a deep breath, “I didn’t get the opportunity to choose; I was experimented on.”

“Wow,” he had to process what you said, “I’m sorry… That must have been hard.”

“It was, but at least I can protect myself now.”

Ben was already accustomed to your powers. He wasn’t impressed by them but was glad to see someone without a costume on, someone grounded; still, he had sympathy with knowing that his powers were on his terms while you were the guinea pig — at least a surviving one. 

“Guess that guy was right… I can’t find my team without the knowledge of today.”

“Yeah, Hughie was right,” you started to get up from the sofa, “Look, I don’t want to rock the boat, but —”

Ben cut you off: “Then don’t, already told that Hughie, Butcher and now I’m going to tell you… I’m not interested in helping anyone; I don’t care what you did for me… My old team used to be there for me and look where trusting them got me… Handed to the reds.” 

“That was the past, we will help you, and all you have to do is add one more person to the list… We practically made Countess a human sacrifice for you, Hughie and Butcher have found the rest and Black Noir is a part of the Seven. Now we can —”

“Y’know, sweetheart, you might think having a team is a good thing; you get the job done, then you can laugh when the working day is over… Look, I’m sure you’re a great person, but one day, your team won’t see that. I see the way Butcher talks about people like us,” he motioned with his hands to sign you both, “He’ll make you bait in a plan one day. Get rid of you as mine did… Betray me and made me think they loved me.” 

Ben was momentarily lost in thought, and you could tell he was thinking about Crimson Countess. When you met her, you were with Frenchy and Kimiko; you felt sympathy for her after watching her pathetic little tribute to Soldier Boy; after she spoke, you honestly thought there was a reason for what she and the team did; you had gathered the puzzle pieces a long time ago after investigations and using Annie for information. Yes, Ben was stubborn, but for a good reason; if you were in the same shoes and had the boys betrayed you and left you dead for decades, forgiveness wouldn’t be on your list. 

“They wouldn’t do that to me; we’ve gotten into too much trouble together… Think we’re thick as thieves at this point,” you let out a small laugh to lighten the mood, “I know it hurts… Especially with Countess, but you need to help us… We need you.” 

“It’s hard to forget,” he let out a deep sigh, “Y’know I wanted some rugrats of my own, with Countess, yeah ain’t that a bitch…wanted a couple of little boys and raise them up to be men, now? Now I got nothing.” 

This man had lost everything, was confused and experimented on, and you could relate to him in those ways; after being forced away from home under the name of curiosity and needing to match the American supes, you were just the surviving sample. But to lose love and know that they felt nothing for you is a different type of hurt, and you didn’t want to imagine that.

“I’m sorry, but if you do change your mind,” he shot a sharp look at you, “if you change your mind. You can live your life, be free from suffering and find a woman you can have fun with… You don’t need Countess.”

You tried to give him support until you saw a mischievous smirk that crept on his face, and he looked you up and down, taking a step towards you which you mirrored by moving behind; you clenched your fingers into a fist as you had an idea of what that smirk meant, thinking in your mind that you were probably overreacting and that nothing would happen. Your back hit the cold wall, Ben still moving in your direction, his face inches away from yours and his arm moving to pin you up against the wall; you moved your face away from him to tell him you were uncomfortable with this through your body language — but his behaviour continued. 

“Maybe I want to have some fun with you, honey,” he whispered, sending shivers down your spine. 

While standing there, you were conflicted; you had heard the stories and shared the same hatred for the supe’s with too much power, but Ben seemed different. Granted, you didn’t know everything about him and weren’t around when he was at the peak of power, but you were attracted to him. How he looked at you, feeling his hot breath trail along your neck as you made you feel helpless under his touch. 

“Do you think that is a good idea?” you met his eyes when you asked. 

“If you want me to stop… Just say,” he whispered into your ear again. 

You didn’t want him to stop, it was a strange situation to be in, but you wanted to see where this would go; after all, Butcher and Hughie wouldn’t be back for ages, and this could be used as some fun for you and to get Soldier Boy on the team. 

“Thought so,” Ben then started to kiss your neck. 

You gasped under his lips touch, feeling his smirk now and again when he heard you whimper and felt your hand place on his bicep, showing that you loved what he was doing and that you didn’t want him to stop. It felt wrong after hearing the stories about him, but you couldn’t help the attraction you felt towards him and the sympathy built up from your conversations. You wanted to just forget about the past and melt into the current situation, enjoying every sensation and feeling that made you tingle with pleasure. 

“I knew you were a dirty girl,” you moaned a little as he bit your neck, leading to a gasp every time he bit down harder and harder to the point a mark was left on your neck. 

His fingers then wandered, grazing over the deep v-neck collar on your dress, sliding his fingers down your breast as he continued to leave hickies and get harder when hearing your moans and whimpers. 

“For someone that was frozen, you’re really good at this,” you muttered with your eyes shut and feeling the sensations Ben gave you. 

“Shut up and enjoy what I’m giving you,” you got wet with his words. 

His wandering hand then made its way down to where your dress ended, lifting it up to reveal your panties already submerged in a wet spot; this sent another shiver with anticipation running through your mind — trying to figure out what Ben wanted to do to you first. He moved his lips away from you and started to unbuckle his belt, leading his pants to drop to the ground and reveal his lower half. You looked down and saw his length, getting even wetter at the sight of it. 

“Like what you see, doll?” you nodded. 

Ben smirked at your compliance, continuing to leave hickies on the other side of your neck and positioning his cock in between your thighs, moving his hips with a back-and-forth motion and feeling your wet, clothed pussy on his member. Running his fingers through your hair and grabbing fistfuls, pulling it and making you wince now and again.

“I love how you’re such a little slut for me right now.”

You couldn’t get any words out with the pleasure you felt at that moment, the dominance and power Ben had over you, but while you were enjoying it, you wanted the dynamic to flip a little bit — have a taste of that dominance he gave you. 

“How about we change some things… I’m sure you will like it,” you offered as you pushed him away from you, gently putting your hands on his biceps again, seeing him beg for you with his cock in between your soft thighs. 

“Hm, guess I’ll allow it… What do you have in mind, sweetheart?” 

He moved away from you, wondering what was happening in your dirty little mind, trying to figure you out — failing in the multiple attempts of analysing how you looked at him. You stepped towards him, placing your hands on his shoulders and pushing him to the bed, your strength showing with the way the bedframe hit the wall and leaving a large crumbly dent in the wall. 

“Feisty… I like it,” you could tell Ben wanted more, liking how you were in control now. 

You started to take your dress off, slowly unclasping your bra and revealing your naked body by stripping your underwear down your legs, slowly moving on top of him to straddle and rub your wet centre against his hard cock. 

“Mmph, that feels good,” Ben started to shudder with this new feeling, a sensation he knew he would want more of. 

“Do you want to feel me?” you asked him, grinding on him even more as you awaited his answer. 

“Please, sweetheart, please.”

“Beg for it then.” 

You loved every minute of this, seeing him vulnerable but excited by what you were doing, the dynamic flipping and making him switch behaviour. 

“Oh, come on, sweetheart, let me have it… I’m starved for you.”

“More, baby.”

“Let me fuck you, please; I’m desperate to know how you feel… Come on, baby,” he was squirming while he begged.

You decided to let him have it, let him have some sort of dignity left as you hooved over and positioned your centre to let his cock inside of your wet hole. 

“Oh fuck,” Ben moaned. 

Finally, feeling your walls surround his cock. You smirked when seeing his smile, him closing his eyes to appreciate the moment; you started to bounce up and down on his dick and moan every time you went down for another stroke, your moans being harmonious with Bens and leading to a pool of pleasurable sounds bounce off the walls; it felt so good, and you could feel Ben want more. He put his hands on your hips, you pushing them away to drive him crazy. 

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t go touching.”

“Oh fuck, you’re so good at this,” he moaned again. 

He had many experiences before he was frozen with Countess and other women, but this was different. You were taking control, flipping the dynamic and letting him feel the pleasure while he was under your touch; different but still enjoyable to Ben. You moved your hands to either side of Ben’s head, your breasts lying on Ben’s chest as you continued to bounce and feel the joy fucking him was giving you. He was biting his lip, trying his best not the cum too fast, but this was getting futile the quicker you kept feeling each stroke; wanting to feel him release inside of you — a feeling you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Please let me cum; I’m dying over here… Please.”

You thought about it for a moment, giving a lick and nibble on Ben’s neck to leave him wriggling around in gratification. 

“Go ahead then,” smirking while talking. 

You continued to grind your hips up and down, only this time your hands were placed on Ben’s shoulders, shoving him down into the mattress; leaving bruise imprints on his skin. 

“Fuck,” Ben let out a loud and deep gasp. 

While feeling Ben’s warm release inside you, this was met with your mutual pleasure, trying to catch your breath as you processed everything that happened; your eyes still rolled to the back of your head as you felt every little bit of Ben’s cum warming inside of you, dripping out when you moved away and collapsed next to him. 

“That was amazing,” Ben said in between deep breaths, caressing your arm as he turned around to meet your face covered in a red dust of blush. 

“You can have more… If you join us.”

“How can I say no?” 

Authors note: I'm sorry this took so long, been busy with going out (having a fun time what can I say) as well as doing research for a current university project I'm working on. I hope this is good, if it isn't then... idk click off haha. If anyone has more requests please message me or submit (with user or as an anon idm). have a good day/evening <3

[previousloversandmuses]

FREQUENCY: Episode 6 - A Soldier Boy Story

FREQUENCY:  A Soldier Boy Story

EPISODE 6: “You Make Me Feel So Young”

WORD COUNT: 7736 (sorry)

PAIRING: Soldier Boy X Reader 

WARNINGS: (NSFW) Foul language. Offensive slurs. Violence, depression, and mentions of suicide. Slow burn. Drinking, and drugs. 

A/N: This story is dark, and covers mature themes. The main character, as well as other major characters, are offensive in nature, and may offend some people. Please peruse with caution, and remember that this is fiction. Reader discretion is advised. Please message me for any questions, comments, or concerns. 

Masterlist | Taglist 

Everything was exactly where she usually would have left it. Hm, he thinks. Totally stumped. She’s never gone this long without telling him. Her apartment, vacant and cold, hadn't seen her around for about a month, and neither had he. Not since the last time she had come over, at least. 

He stalks around her place. Taking a peep into the fridge, only to be greeted by the smell of spoiled milk. He grimaces, shutting it so hard the door comes off of its hinges. Fuck. He leans it back up against the body of the refrigerator, not really bothering to fix it. Maybe she wouldn’t notice? 

He takes note of her bedroom. Her worn laundry is still in the hamper, including that little get up she had on the last time she came to see him. He reaches down into it, grabbing onto the black lace underwear, and taking a deep whiff. Still smells like her, which surprisingly brings him little comfort. He knew she did her laundry every day, or else the smell alone would drive her close to insane.

He rummages through her drawers, observing that almost all of her undergarments are gone. She’s also missing shorts, flannels, and her hiking shoes. Okay, he thinks, perhaps she’s just gone home for an extended period of time. Perhaps she is angry with him because of his reaction to her most recent proposition. Lord knows when she’d be back. But he knew he could always check. 

Leaving her apartment, her black lace underwear stuffed into the sleeve of his supesuit, he knocks on her neighbors door. He knows they are home, he can hear them. An older woman answers, her eyes wide, mouth dropped. 

“Good evening, ma’am, I was wondering if-“ She passes out before she can answer. 

Great. 

He knocks on the other neighbor's door. He stomps his foot with impatience. His lips formed into a tight line. He crosses his arms over his chest and swallows his irritation with feigned patriotism. 

“Hello Sir, would you mind if I asked you a quick question?”

The man stammers, completely dumbfounded.

“Wow! Homelander, what a wonderful surprise,” He turns to look over his shoulder. “Honey, come look! Homelander is here!”

John rolls his eyes, only to resume his pleasant expression once the imbecile turns back to meet his gaze. 

“What can we do for you, Sir?” The idiot asks. 

“Well, I actually had a question about your neighbor.”

“Which one?” The man beams, a goofy grin on his face. His wife joins him at the door. 

“My God! Homelander! To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Homelander smiles back at her, nodding his head. His irritation becomes a lot more difficult to hide. 

“Yes ma’am. I was actually asking your husband here a few questions about your neighbor.”

“Who, Old Emma?” The woman asks. “She’s demented. Whatever she did, we had nothing to do with it.”

He raises an eyebrow at them, shaking his head. 

“Uh…no, no, not the old—I was asking about your young neighbor. Apartment D.”

“Ohhhh,” They both say simultaneously. The woman slapping her head, showing her idiocy. “Well, we don’t hear much from her, right Steve?”

The man looks at his wife, nodding, turning back to John. 

“She in some kind of trouble? Not one of those supe terrorists, is she?”

“No, no, God no.”

“Is everything alright? Anything we should be worried about?”

“No, just curious about the last time you saw her.”

The couple turn to each other, scratching their heads. Visibly searching their brain for some sort of answer. 

“Maybe a few weeks ago? She’s quiet. It’s not out of the ordinary. She usually comes and goes late at night anyway.”

John sighs, nodding to them. 

“Alright, thanks anyway. Sorry for bothering you two. Stay safe out there, okay?”

As he begins to walk away, Steve, the husband, calls after him.

“Hey homelander!” John turns back to them, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Do you mind if we get a picture?”

Kill me now. He thinks. 

“No, not at all!” He walks up to the two of them with open arms. 

The two of them eat dinner every night together for a few weeks. He comes home from a long day of work, which again, he chose to do willingly. Something she still thinks is a feat in itself. He slips off his boots, and lays down on the couch. He’ll turn the TV on and flip to whatever channel is showing reruns of M.A.S.H. Although he does happen to enjoy Two And a Half Men, he was good friends with Charlie Sheen's father back in the day.

Last Tuesday she had borrowed one of Amas cookbooks, deciding on a southern style pot roast. Didn’t look too hard. You just stuff everything into a crockpot, wait eight hours, and call it a night. 

By the time he got home the house smelled heavenly, and had been obsessively deep cleaned by the freak herself. He had noticed during their time together that she had to deep clean every few days, otherwise it’d drive her up a wall, and she’d start acting like a deranged mental case. Although regular, established, modern people would just refer to it as irritability. He will never not call her out for it, no matter how many times she tells him that upsets her. 

Because of this interaction, his enjoyment of smelling whatever she had cooking for him would usually be cut short, ending in some ridiculous, twenty minute bicker. The two of them are equally hard-headed, and would never admit they were wrong. At this point they both give up, and begin to eat in silence, on the couch, side by side, watching some sort of movie. Finally beginning to talk normally from some obscene observation on his part. She’d never say it, but times like that she did find him funny. 

He was crass, and gross, and condescending, and simply everything she thought she’d hate in another human being. But, unfortunately, there was a part of her that found it charming. And come present day, she realized she might be sad the day he doesn’t come home to bother her. She’d been by herself for so long, the idea of even any sort of companion drove her crazy. But she had gotten used to this. And his nightmares had gotten at least a little better to the point where she could fall asleep without headphones, and lie back, being soothed to the sound of his steady heart beat. 

All that is short lived when she wakes up to a screech, or a shout--or something. Either way she knows it's him. 

Typically, in this situation, or what she’s done so far to cope, is turn on “Swan Lake” on her headphones. She cranks it up, rolling her eyes, and flipping over on her side. Facing away from his side of the house. But tonight, after a particularly heated conversation about the Star Wars Prequels, she can't help but feel a tinge of guilt.

She lies awake, staring at the ceiling, her box fan only doing so much to conceal his soft whimpers of misery. She gnaws on her lip, her heart aching with a sudden remorse for the oh-so-broken man that lies tortured by his own sleep. When was the last time he slept a full night? She thinks. When was the last time he woke up feeling rested? She knows he's strong as steel, and biologically augmented. He probably didn’t even really need the sleep. But mental anguish? Cognitive health? She knew from her own experience that can take a toll on even the strongest of Supes. Take John, for example, even he was a loose cannon for Christ's Sake!

She sighs, standing up, and making her way into the living room. It’s at least worth a try. She didn’t even really know what to try. She was never one for comfort, even with the likes of John. Hell, she didn't even know how to expect people to comfort her! 

He lies on the pull out bed, resting on his side. Small, innocent, puffs of air fall from his lips. He almost looks sweet like this. Like a little boy, so wholesome and demure. She's sure that won't last long when he wakes up. With this man's amount of pride, she's sure he'd have her in a chokehold for even thinking consoling him was a good idea. 

She softly sits to the left on him, making sure to not create too much noise. Did he wake up to stuff like this? Could he sense her presence or maybe he's well equipped to military style combat even when half asleep? She definitely wasn’t willing to find out. 

Another round of his wimpers start up again. She looks around awkwardly,  unsure how to go about this situation. She reaches her hand down, it hovers over his damp forehead. He’s going to snap my wrist, she thinks, grimacing. She bites her lip in preparation. Anything to get this wild, uninhibited man to have a full night's sleep. Shit, anything to get her to have a full night's sleep!

Fuck it. 

She begins cascading her stiff hand through his wet hair. She's moving like she doesn't have control of her arms. I look disabled, she thinks, shaking her head. It was a funny sight. If she were to tell someone she had cerebral palsy, she’s sure they'd believe it. She snorts at that. What an awful thing to think. She had definitely been hanging around him too much. 

He shifts over onto his back in his slumber, her hand moving away from him quickly. She eyeballs him to make sure he's not awake. His little breaths continue to puff away. She sighs in relief. She watches as he stiffens up, his whimpers bubbling from his throat again. Her eyes widen. She drops her hand back down to his scalp and begins to scrape her fingers through it. He starts to calm down. Like magic, she thinks. She shuts her eyes for a moment, suddenly desperate to feel any sort of electrical current dancing around underneath the top layer of his skull. And she does. It lights like a wildfire as his nightmare begins to calm down--

That is, until he nearly breaks her wrist, of course. He's up with a jolt, as he wraps his hand around her delicate, unaltered bones.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He demands, her eyes going wide.

She tries pulling her arm out of his vice grip, her bones creaking under the strength of his fingers. 

“You were having a nightmare,” She argues, slightly embarrassed. “I was trying to help.”

He laughs at her, dropping her arm into her lap. He stands up, separating himself from her.

“Only little boys have nightmares, and last time I fuckin’ checked, I’m a grown man.”

“You have kept me up every night for a week now.”

“What happened to your phoneheads?” He demands. “Those keep you from hearing things.”

She rolls her eyes at him. Hearing things. Whatever gets you to sleep at night, pal. Which was, obviously, nothing. 

“They are uncomfortable.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m uncomfortable when you come and caress me in my sleep-” He stops himself, thinking about that statement for a second. Well, maybe not that kind of caressing.  

“You’re perverted.” She already knows exactly what he's thinking.

“And you don't listen. How many times do I have to tell you I dont have fuckin’ shell shock?”

She shrugs, “You’re gonna have to keep telling me, because thirty years of captivity seems like it’d do a lot to a guy.”

“Yeah, well, maybe to one of those pussy desert storm vets. Those are the ones who were left fucking half-retarded.”

She stands up, scoffing, brushing past him, and walking back into her room.

“You liked it,” She states. “It shut you right up.”

He stares at her.

“But okay, tough guy, I won't do it again.”

He looks down at his feet, kicking at the floor. “Good, glad we're on the same page.” He says.

She closes the door on him. 

John has been sitting in Vought Security for the past four hours trying to find any surveillance he could of her quiet escape. He just wanted to make sure she really did go home. That she wasn’t flaking out on him. That she wasn’t abandoning him. Not that he cared or anything…

“Doesn’t she have a tendency to take out security cameras?” The young intern asks. 

He had stolen her from her minor duties as a security assistant. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing.

“Yes, but don’t you think we’d at least see her take them out?”

“Yes Sir, but if she left, then I’m sure we would have seen her leave by now.”

“Don’t question me. Filter through the next hour, I’m sure we’re almost there.” He breathes down her neck as he hunches over, getting himself closer to the screen to see.

And anyone could have missed it, but he didn’t. There goes her shitty old car, flashing past the screen.

“There,” He shouts. “Go back, pause it.”

The young girl sighs, rewinding the footage, and stopping on the blurry still of the car.

“There she is,” He smiles, “Now where the fuck are you headed?”

The two of them sit there for another hour as they watch her car travel from camera to camera across the city. That is until she reaches a big dumpster behind some shitty supermarket on the outskirts of Queens.

The camera on the lamp post that recorded this had to be at least twenty years old. It looks like it had been filmed on a fucking microwave.

“Is there any way we can make this image clearer?” He asks, gesturing to the screen.

The young intern shrugs, pressing some buttons, and filtering out at least a little bit of the grain.

“It’s not much better,” She sighs.

He pats her shoulder, she goes stiff, ready for this loose cannon to fire any second.

“This works.” He states, yanking her out of the seat and taking her place.

He gets obnoxiously close to the screen, squinting his eyes, and watches as Freak throws something into the trash can.

“Is that a body?” The intern gasps in horror.

John rolls his eyes, “No, it's not a fucking body.”

He begins to rub at his chin, “...At least, I don’t think so…”

The girl reaches over his shoulder, clicking a few buttons, then walks over to the printer and hands him the location.

“This is where this camera is located. I doubt whatever she threw out is still in there, but it's worth a try, I guess.”

“Wow, thank you so much for your input that I definitely did not ask for.”

Deadpan. The girl would rather him put her out of her misery by this point. They stare each other down pathetically for a moment, before he shoos her away to go about the rest of her day. 

He waits for the young girl to leave. Sighing as he turns back to the screen, he watches as Freak hops back in her car and drives off. He keeps the speed of the footage up, and only a few seconds later does he spot a homeless man walking over to the dumpster. He pauses the video quickly, putting it back into real time. The homeless man looks around suspiciously, before launching himself over the side of the dumpster.

John is at the edge of his seat. Please, Christ. He thinks. He begs. Anything that will get him on her trail. 

After a few minutes, the homeless man pops his head back out. He hops back onto the ground, something shiny under his arm. Maybe a laptop, he thinks. He follows the man on nearby security cameras until he reaches a pawn shop. The man is in there for a good five minutes before he walks back out, envelope in hand. He immediately walks next door and into the liquor store. Typical.

This is worth a try, John thinks. Although, this was recorded over a month ago. Even if it was sold, he's sure they wouldn't mind giving him the information on who bought it. I mean, he is the Homelander for Christ's sake. 

With that in mind, and location of the pawn shop in hand, he makes his way out of Vought Security, and then launches himself out of the tower. He’d find her. Even if it was the last thing he’d do.

They didn’t talk for two days after the nightmare fiasco. He’d come home to a dark house. She was either asleep, or hanging out with Ama until late. She never told her what really happened, just that his senile ass was getting on her nerves. 

All the young adults on the res had plans to go out on friday night. He didn’t really know what that meant. Partying wasn’t like it used to be, and he isn’t sure if he would even like to party at all. 

“You coming tonight?” Asher asks, taking a drag off a cigarette.

He and Ben lean up against a brick wall outside of the diner that they all frequent for lunch. 

“What’s it we’re doing exactly?” Ben asks, pulling a cigarette out of his pack and up to his lips.

“It's like a bar honkey-tonk.”

“A honkey tonk?” Ben grimaces.

“It ain’t too bad, they barely play any country, either. Usually old classics, disco, that kind of thing.” Asher adds.

“Old classics…what the hell does that even mean?”

Asher laughs. Ama and Freak had ended up telling the rest of the young people on the res about Ben. Who he was. Why she broke him out. What the plan would be come summer.

A lot of them were hesitant at first, and for good reason. The Soldier Boy they knew had not necessarily been too kind to them. He understood their resistance for acceptance. Hell, he didn't even really want to be talking to these people anyway. The further they stay away, the better. But, of course, that wasn’t how it seemed to work. Everyone had been harassing him about stories from the past. Hell, he was once the most famous man in the world at the time. 

“Old classics…80’s and under.”

“80’s and under?” Ben gapes. “Spare me.”

“Your version of old music is what…Beethoven live?”

Ben shakes his head, laughing.

“Fuck you,” He drags from his smoke. “So old music, drinking, and dancing?”

“Think you can handle that, old man?” 

“We’ll see.”

Asher finishes his cigarette, dropping it to the ground, and crushing it with his foot.

“There will be some girls there too, I’m sure. Plenty for you to choose from.”

With Ama and Freaks' admission about who Ben really was, also came everyone knowing that the two of them weren’t really together. He didn’t mind…Or, at least he didn’t think so. A few days after they let everyone know, Ben watched one of Ama’s brothers pull Freak off to the side of the outdoor pavilion. He rested his arm above her head and looked down at her with a glowing admiration. Soft, big puppy dog eyes, doing what they do best. A look she seemed to send right back to him in return. She had never looked at him like that.

Did he even want her to? He swallowed that feeling down before he let himself answer. 

“I’m a little rusty. I’ll come out for a little while and then turn in.” Ben sighs, still smoking on his cigarette.

“Your choice.” Asher shrugs, beginning to walk back inside the diner.

In theory it would probably be best for Ben's mental health to at least try to stay out later. Be social. Did he have to talk to women? No. These were baby steps. He could stay out, drink with the few friends he’s made, and listen to songs that made him feel comfortable. Think back to the good times. Hell, he might even get to see Freak let loose. 

“...Christ on a cross…” He lets out a heavy groan. He had almost forgotten about what happened a few nights ago. There's no way she’d be going out, he thinks. And even if she did, she sure as hell wouldn’t get anywhere near him. 

He felt bad for his reaction to her sweet gesture. How it was purely innocent, and kind. Something he rarely saw from her. She wasn’t cold-- well, not really. It was more like the idea of letting herself become comfortable with someone was, shocker, uncomfortable. His response to the situation ended up making him look weaker than what he was afraid of. He was acting like a little boy terrified of catching cooties.

He had always considered himself to be an open book, because to him there wasn’t much to be open about. He didn’t have any feelings that weren’t manly, and if he did, they were suppressed by bouts of irrational anger and rage. Reactions which he's sure led to his existence as a lab rat for thirty years. 

He was cold to all of Payback, especially Noir, who was always agreeable and pure. And even to Countess, who he claims he loved. No man would ever treat a woman they cared about that deeply with such discontent and hatred. He acted like she made him sick. He’s sure he had even slapped her around a few times. But he was so arrogant, and she wasn’t built like regular women. He thought she could take it. She was strong. She needed that treatment. She needed that to be stronger. 

In reality, his behavior all led him right back to his father. To his silver spoon childhood. His father, who was a disgrace. His father, who was unfair and disgustingly evil. His father, who was everything he turned out to be. Ben's personality was purely the result of mistreatment. Of parental negligence. Of deep rooted insecurity. Worst part is, he knows that now. He's been having to live with it. He’s been having to deal with these weird, foreign, repressed emotions. Ones that bubble to the surface as a short temper that's taken out on another broken human being who doesn’t deserve it. 

He remembers dinner with her about a week ago. She was freshly showered so her hair was dripping wet, making a little puddle on the floor. The back of her shirt damp, and sticking to her skin. She was ridiculously shiny, which was the result of some face mask from the nearby pharmacy. It smelled like blueberries, and he’s sure she could tell. Most definitely an overpowering mixer with their steaming plate of macaroni and cheese. She grimaced as she took a bite. 

“You put a lot of effort into yourself for a girl who’s so set on dying.” He says, breaking the silence. He had been refering to her planned suicide mission in the coming weeks. 

She widened her eyes at him, setting her fork down, and reaching over to take a sip of her water. She had been exhausted that day. There had been a big music festival thirty miles down in one of the valleys. That's all she had heard and felt for the past twelve hours. A little self care is what she needed. Anything to treat her pounding headache, and sore muscles. 

“I would've done it a long time ago if I wasn’t so set on revenge.” She stated, rubbing the sides of her temples with her fingers. 

He shakes his head, putting his fork down.

“You can’t let these people have such power over you.” He argued.

“I’m too tired to have this conversation right now.” She sighs.

She pokes around her plate with her fork, resting one side of her head on her hand. He watches her as she mopes.

“Y’know, sometimes people in my blast zones don’t even die they just…end up losing whatever fucked up thing the V did to their DNA.” He tries to act nonchalant about it.

She looked up at him. It was a sweet gesture, she thought. He obviously didn’t think she was worthy of dying. Worthy of throwing her entire tortured life away. He was willing to help her find an alternative to her suffering. The question was whether or not she was willing to do that. And at this point, she didn't think so. 

“Ben, it’s a nice gesture, really.” She smiles weakly.

She had always thought she was one of those people who were born to die. Like her whole purpose in life was death. That her existence had a deeper meaning, and that she wouldn't die in vain. She’d die in sacrifice. In the way she wanted to. She thought it was beautiful that she would be the final factor in her demise. That cancer, or John, or Vought, or an atomic bomb--any outside source wouldn’t have the ability to take control of her ultimate cessation. 

“We can keep you at a close distance so you wouldn't get hurt. It’d be quick, and you wouldn’t have to worry about shit like today anymore.” He sounded excited almost.

“This thing that V gave me, I hate it,” She starts. “But I wouldn’t know how to live without it, either.”

He nodded along. That he understands. 

“Like today for example; the ground is shaking, I feel it everywhere. It gives me a headache, raises my blood pressure. And the sound, the fact I can hear the bass from thirty miles away. I mean, to say my ears are ringing is an understatement. But, at the same time, the way I experience music is an incredible gift. I can hear chords and choruses and notes and keys--things machines couldn’t even be able to pick up…Without this curse, I would be just an empty shell. I wouldn't know how to live. So I guess, maybe the real curse, is just continuing to exist, compound V or not.”

By the time John gets to the pawn shop it had already been closed for thirty minutes. He lands just as the shopkeeper is locking up for the night. The man’s coat flies up from the force of John's arrival. He jumps in response. He turns to face him, John already putting on a shit eating, manufactured smile. The man freezes, dropping all of his belongings on the ground.

“How are you this beautiful evening, Sir?” It had been raining all day.

The man stammers, searching for some sort of coherent response. John grits his teeth. Deep breaths. He goes out of his way to continue the conversation. 

“I’m looking for something that may have come through in your shop, do you mind if I have a look?”

“I-I-I…”Almost there, it’s nearly out. “I’ve just closed up for the night Sir, can this not wait until m-morning?”

Sorry--wait until morning? Does this absolute fucking imbecile retarded fucking moron not understand who hes talking to? John stalks up closer to him, the shopkeeper trembling enough to drop his keys onto the ground. John watches them as they fall, only to turn back up to the man.

“You gonna pick those up?” John asks, cornering him.

“Uh, y-yes sir.” The man stutters, squatting down and picking up his keys. 

“Good job,” John praises. “Now, are you going to unlock this door and let me inside or am I going to have to force my way in myself?”

The man audibly swallows, turning back to the knob and unlocking the door with an old, rusted key. When the door opens John is hit with a waft of moth balls, old cigarettes, and dust. God this place was a slum. Who the hell would buy anything from there and expect it to be any quality higher than dog shit?

“Are you looking for anything in particular, Sir?”

John scans the room. There is furniture; some old and ripped, some newer and draped in red velvet. There is a section for jewelry, he's sure none of it is real. There is silver, china, guns, knives, japanese art, again, definitely not real.

“Do you have any electronics?”

The man gestures down in front of him. There is a glassed case that houses a few flip phones, a handful of Blackberry’s, some walkie talkies, and, Ah, laptops.

“We actually just got in a few new flip phones, Sir,” The man leans in closer, looking around, speaking under his breath. “Including a first generation keypad Nokia.”

John snorts, shaking his head. Unbelievable. 

“I’m actually looking for a laptop.”

The man takes a deep breath, “Aw man, we just sold our last one today. Microsoft Windows I think.”

John feels himself getting agitated. He’s sure he can no longer hide the look of discontent on his face. 

“So, no apple computers then?” 

“N-no, unfortunately not, sir.” The man swallows hard again.

John takes note of his blood pressure. One-eighty over ninety. He must be hiding something. He begins to laugh at the man.

“What was your name?” John asks.

“A-Akash.” He stutters, his palms beginning to sweat.

John could smell it.

“Okay, Akash,” John leans in closer, grabbing him by the collar. “I know an apple computer came through here a few weeks ago. And I’m gonna assume by the pounding of your heart rate that you bought it off of some homeless guy for thirty dollars and some change.”

Akash nods, beads of perspiration forming at the top of his hairline. 

“And I’m gonna bet that since you got such a good deal on a new, nice laptop, that you decided you were gonna keep it yourself. Is that right?”

Akash squeaks something, but John can hardly understand him due to his crushing vice grip.

“Sorry, what was that?” John says, pulling Akash up closer to his face, his feet hovering off the ground.

“Y-yes!” Akash cries, “P-please, Homelander, I have a family at home. Take whatever you want!”

“Where's the laptop?” He asks.

The man points down to his briefcase.

She stands in the kitchen, doing her makeup in the reflection of the microwave. She likes the natural lighting. She turns around, reaching to grab the controller, and turning the TV on. The New York news station is reporting about some Pawn Shop that caught on fire. Good, she thinks. As long as it has nothing to do with Ben. She's relieved to know that the two of them continue to be white noise. 

And ugh, speaking of Ben, she prays he won't be going out tonight. Maybe he’ll continue to be antisocial and isolate himself at home, watching reruns of “Happy Days”, and snorting mountains of benzos. She's tired of getting them for him. 

After she finishes up on her mascara, she walks back into her room and slips on her dress for the evening. It's black, tight, vintage Guess. She had gotten it from the consignment store the other day. Everyone had planned on going to dinner first, but most of the guys had a long day. They would rather go home and relax, and then go back out later in the evening. The club had alright bar food anyway. Well, at least from what she can remember. 

Smoothing out the edges of her dress with delicate hands, she sits back down on her bed, and turns on the TV. Waiting for when everyone was ready to go out. She’d rather be ready early than having to scramble during an already stressful evening. She hadn’t gone out in ages. 

As she settles back onto the pillow, she hears the front door creak open. She goes still, hoping he won't come in to bother her. He doesn’t, just goes to hop right into the shower. He must be going out then, she thinks. And if he is, there is absolutely no way he's leaving after her. She will be fashionably late. He can happily go early and hopefully turn in before midnight like the old man he is. Anything to guarantee avoiding an unwanted interaction. 

She's still and silent as she listens to him get ready. Her TV on mute. Her face heats up as she hears the familiar zipper of his jeans. She had gotten used to hearing that everyday. He clears his throat, keys jingling as he shoves them into his pocket. The clock on the wall now read 9:03. People would slowly start to turn up at the bar. 

Suddenly his phone rings, the one that she got him from Wamart. It was a cheap flip phone that had minutes. He still didn’t understand how any grown man is ever able to type on the tiny little keypad. His whole fingertip takes up half the screen.

“Yeah?” He answers, opening the front door and walking outside. It was Asher. “I’m leaving now…No, I don’t know if she's coming…Well tell Ama to call her that’s not my fuckin problem.”

She hears Tough Guy’s big ass truck pull up outside of the house. It growls as it comes to a quick stop on the gravel drive. He hops in, hanging up the phone as he does so. 

Thats not my fuckin problem. What an asshole. 

She bolts up after that phone exchange. Her skin was hot. She was embarrassed. Why the hell is he acting like this whole situation was her fault? All she was doing was trying to help him! She stomps over to the floor mirror, reaching for the ties on the back of her dress. She pulls it tight so her waist cinches in significantly. She reaches over to her makeup bag again, adding a load of eyeliner and an even thicker layer of mascara. Popping off the lid to her perfume, she drenches herself in it, making sure to get all of the parts any man would love to smell. The places that catch in the wind, only to make their breaths catch in their throats. 

What was this going to do for her? What sort of gratification was she wanting here? Is this her way of getting back at him for being a piece of shit? By acting like a slut and taunting him with something he couldn't have? Maybe. She’s sure it might work. She’s sure it would do something. Even if he didnt feel that way about her. The fact that she was letting loose and having so much fun without him. 

But what if this made him angry? What if this backfires and he blows the whole place to the fucking ground with everyone still in it? Or worse, what if he decided to back out? He says “fuck you, and fuck the family,” and leaves in a cloud of dust? She’d really be fucked then. Well, her rational brain wasn't thinking tonight anyway. She grabs her keys off the console and says fuck it. 

The car ride there was hot, and sweaty. Tough Guys AC in his car had stopped working and he was too tired to fix it. Although he must've been 200 more pounds than Ben, he wasn’t blessed with the likes of Compound V. That shit made him a human heater. They had the windows rolled down, which made everyones hair look fucking crazy.

Once they make it to the bar, all the guys hop out of the car. The place is buzzing with people. All different ethnicities too, which surprised him to say the least. You’d think the rednecks would've ran these people out of town by this point, he thinks. One thing everyone had in common though, almost all of them were wearing cowboy boots. Ben felt significantly out of place, and not just because he was a century older. 

The inside of the club is blasting “Stayin’ Alive” by the Bee Gees when they walk in. Okay, he could get behind that. In the center of the dance floor is a good amount of people, mostly couples or groups of girls. Some of the couples were grinding up and down on each other. It was inappropriate beyond gross proportions. I mean, some of these girls were literally rubbing themselves on these guys' thighs. The older crowd, anywhere between 40 and 70, stood by the bar, watching the dance floor. A lot of them were grimacing, although slightly amused by the ridiculous display of affection. Feeling the same way about it that Ben was. There were high top tables over there, one of them just freeing up as they headed over. The four of them wrap around the table, looking around for their friends. 

“I’ll go look for the other guys.” Tough Guy says, they all nod at him.

Asher looks around, craning his neck, searching for his girlfriend. 

“Ah, there she is,” He says. “Just in time.”

The music changes in the club “Who’s That Lady” By The Isley Brothers coming on. Ben turns his head to follow Asher. Ama and the rest of the girls begin to walk in the door. Perfect timing for this song, he thinks--And then his breath catches in his throat.

She walks in behind the rest of them, sticking out like a sore thumb. Girls like her beelong on the silver screen. They belong in films. On the cover of magazines. In art museums hanging up on a wall surrounded by a sea of onlookers taking her picture. She is it. She is money. She is light. She is so radiant in that tight, black dress he thinks the whole place quiets down when she walks in. Okay, he was not expecting that. 

The herd of girls say hello to him as they walk up to the bar. He nods, not paying attention. His eyes glued to the sight across the room. Adohi, the guy that had her up against the pavilion the other day, saunters towards her, two drinks in his hand. He passes her one, she accepts it happily, leaning in to give him a hug. 

“I'm surprised you could make it!” He yells over the music, she grimaces.

What an idiot, he thinks. Who the hell would forget that about her?

“Sorry,” Adohi says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just surprised you can even handle the music.”

She smiles at him, gesturing towards a pair of earplugs. She knew they didn't do much. But, those plus the gifts of alcohol made it much easier for her to tolerate. Once she got drunk enough her body would end up feeding on the sensation of the bass through the floor. She downs the drink quickly at the realization. Then starts sauntering over to the bar. 

She catches him in her peripheral, not daring to look at him. She knew where he was sitting the moment they pulled up. His heartbeat was so unique, it was easy to spot even from a mile away. 

“Freak,” He calls. Fuck. She wasn’t expecting that.

She looks over her shoulder quickly, not stopping her pursuit towards the bar.

“Hey,” She says, sounding completely uninterested. She said it in a way that you talk to someone whose name you don't remember. She is ice cold. Leaving him frowning on the chair.

Ouch, he thinks. This was going to be harder than he thought. Good thing he's persistent.

Throughout the span of the next few hours the both of them had their fair share of drinks. Ben was buzzed, and so was she. Not to the point where the two of them were incapacitated, but enough so the room was brighter, and they were significantly happier than they were the moment they walked in.

The two of them stood at opposite ends of the club all night. Both stealing glances, pretending that they didn’t catch the other one looking. She made it obvious she was putting on a show. Dancing with Adohi provocatively when any sensual songs came on. Ben gave up on moving slowly with women about an hour ago. After she had her first dance with Adohi. Currently, Ben sits at the bar leaned into a woman's ear. He has her howling with laughter, his hand resting on the small of her back. 

Ama and Asher watch from the entrance of the club after going outside for a smoke break. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. It was embarrassing, and immature, to say the least. These were two grown adults acting like petty teenagers to get back at each other for the sake of their own pride. They had had enough. 

Ama stomps over to Freak, who was currently grinding on Adohi on the dance floor. She was flushed and sweaty, her hair poofed up from the humidity within the club. 

Ama grabs her arm, “Mind if I steal her for a minute?” She asks.

Freak gives her a what the fuck look, as Ama drags her off to the bathroom.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to go alone.” She says, blatantly lying.

“Couldn’t you tell I was in the middle of something?” She asks as the two of them walk through the bathroom door. 

“Yeah, exactly why I pulled you out of it.” Ama pulls them into a bathroom stall. It's small enough where their feet are on top of each other.

“I was having a good time.” Freak argues.

“Adohi is three years younger than you and has a heart murmur, there is no way you are dancing with him because you want to.”

“I am so.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

“You are not,” Ama argues, looking down at the time on her phone. “Okay, one second.”

Ama reaches up and ruffles Freaks hair. Making it sexier, messier, voluminous. Then she takes her thumbs and drags them under her eyes, wiping away the running mascara.

“Didn’t your mom ever teach you about waterproof?” Ama teases.

“I don't have a mom.” Says Freak plainly.

Right, Ama thinks. She then reaches to unlock the bathroom door and pulls them back out.

“Hey, I thought you had to go to the bathroom!”

Ama drags them both out onto the dancefloor, the familiar intro of “How Deep Is Your Love” beginning to play from the speaker.

“It, uh, went away?” Ama says, looking around for Asher.

He sees him coming towards her, and just as Barry Gibb begins to start singing, Ama pushes Freak into Asher, who pushes Ben into her. The two of them running into each other. Out of habit, Ben wrapped his hand around her back to steady her. Having no idea who it was at first. They both stare at each other for a minute, not knowing what to say. It would be too immature and awkward if the other decided to just storm off, leaving the other one alone.

Looking around, all the other couples slowly start to slow dance with each other. A new one coming off of the side lines and onto the floor every few seconds. Freak eyeballs him, then slowly lifts up her arms and onto his shoulders. Not looking him in the eye. In fact, she looks everywhere but him. The ceiling was interesting this evening.

He rolls his eyes at her. He was so sick of her acting like a little teenage girl. Although, he thinks he's no better. The two of them dance in silence until the song is almost over. 

“I’m sorry,” He says suddenly, breaking the tension. “I’m sorry for all of it.”

She blinks at him, tilting her head to the side. She wasn’t expecting that to come from him so easily. 

“I was just- It was- I haven’t…” He trips over his tongue trying to find the right words to say. 

He takes a deep breath, looking her in her eyes. 

The song switches to “You Make Me Feel So Young” By Frank Sinatra. They usually played Frank this time of night before the older couples decided to turn in.

“I’m an asshole, and I’ve always been an asshole. And I know that now and I’m trying to be kinder and to adapt but I don’t know what to do or what to say or how to even exist…” He trails off, looking over to the side of the club.

“I get it,” She says, smiling softly. He turns back to her as she continues “I have a hard time feeling like a real person too.”

He looks down at her outfit, his voice getting quieter, his eyes becoming heavy.

You make me feel so young

You make me feel there are songs to be sung

Bells to be rung

And a wonderful fling to be flung

“You look so beautiful.” He says.

“Thank you,” She says, her eyes watering, her throat dry.

She doesn’t think anyone has ever said that to her in her life.

He thinks he's never said it and meant it before in his whole life. Not until now. This was the first time in his life he's ever felt it. The first time in a hundred years. When he looked into the eyes of someone and had the answers to every question he’s ever asked. 

And even when I'm old and gray

I'm gonna feel the way I do today

'Cause you make me feel so young

“I’m sorry,” He starts, resting his forehead on hers. “This is the closest to home I’ve ever felt. I’m such an asshole.”

She looks up into his eyes with a misty glimmer, a devious gaze. One that holds the whole world within it. A soul pouring out into another. And he caught all of it in the palm of his hands.

She leans up and places a gentle kiss on his lips. He’s reluctant at first, but slowly begins to smile into it.

This felt like home.

Masterlist | Taglist | Episode 7

Taglist: @sl33pylilbunny @Lanassmarty @Sydneyyyya @1-800shootmeplease@muhahaha303@nancymcl@speedyrebelfan@ghh05ttt@agentorange9595@let-me-luve-you @peachytits @darkdahl @deans-spinster-witch @soggybasementfries @ladysparkles78 @madamthemoo @lyarr24@sadlittlecountess @mickaelly007 @mrscountryclub @vtheoneandonly @decadentanchorwerewolf @wonderland2022@buckybarnes-1917@rebeccathefangirl@daisy-the-quake @tiredbibi @greyish-wallpaper@previousloversandmuses@is-this-a-febreze-commercial@justrealizedimmascifygurl@broimamy@freewastelandstrawberry@breadsgalore@savagemickey03@franblaq6466@lustendreams@atinylittlebee @VtheOneandOnly

[forgetminot]

MASTERLIST

♡ Fluff ✷Angst メDeath ✧Smut ✿My Favourites

Leon Kennedy

Three Questions - Leon Kennedy x gn reader ♡✷

Talk To Me - Leon Kennedy x gn reader ♡✷✿

Be Careful - Leon Kennedy x Ashley Graham ♡✷

Till Death Do Us Part - Leon Kennedy x gn reader (Based on Corpse Bride) ✷メ

Promise - Leon Kennedy x gn reader ✷✷メ

Teach Me - Leon Kennedy x gn reader ♡

Trust Me - Leon Kennedy x gn reader ✷♡

Broken - Leon Kennedy x gn reader ✷✷

Egg? Egg. - Leon Kennedy x gn reader ♡

Promises And Excuses - Leon Kennedy x gn reader ♡♡✿

Safe And Sound - Leon Kennedy x gn reader ✷♡

Home Sweet Home - Leon Kennedy x gn reader ♡♡

Bubble Bath - Leon Kennedy x gn reader ♡♡✿

All For You - Leon Kennedy x gn reader ✷♡♡

Aftercare - Leon Kennedy x gn reader ✧♡♡

A Familiar Face - Leon Kennedy x gn reader ✷

Arthur Morgan

A Quick Sketch - Arthur Morgan x gn reader ♡♡

Sharing Cigarettes - Arthur Morgan x gn reader ♡♡

Distant Memory - Arthur Morgan x female reader ♡✷✿

Paranormal - Arthur Morgan x gn reader ✷

Daryl Dixon

My Hero - Daryl Dixon x gn reader ♡♡✷

Please Don't Go - Daryl Dixon x gn reader ✷✷メ

Dean Winchester

All Of You - Dean Winchester x male reader ♡♡

I Don't Bite - Dean Winchester x male reader ♡✷

Rick Grimes

Stay With Me - Rick Grimes x gn reader ✷✷

I'm Not Going Anywhere - Rick Grimes x gn reader ✷♡

Incorrect Quotes

Incorrect Quotes - The Walking Dead Edition

Incorrect Quotes - Resident Evil Edition

Incorrect Quotes - Resident Evil Edition Pt.2

Incorrect Quotes - Leon Kennedy x Y/n Edition

Incorrect Quotes - Leon Kennedy x Y/n Edition Pt.2

Incorrect Quotes - Stranger Things Edition

Incorrect Quotes - Leon Kennedy x Y/n Edition Pt.3

Incorrect Quotes - Arthur Morgan x Y/n Edition

Incorrect Quotes - Red Dead Redemption Edition

[call-me-mrs-winchester]

When a random idea pops in my head for a story/oneshot:

[sunnami]

❝time will tell.❞

[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]

summary. ❝you are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.❞

pairing/s. poly!mauraders x reader. (james potter x reader, sirius black x reader, lily evans x reader, and remus lupin x reader.)

word count. 9.5k.

tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf

note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one

HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort — or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all they’ve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society. 

At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry can’t even count the amount of conspiracy theories he’s read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black. 

Even Hermione’s shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort — of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harry’s already forgiven her. But there’s a part of him that despises the way he’s never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables — to Harry’s surprise, you glare right back at her. You’re awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss — Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears he’d like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remus’s eyes.

Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun. 

Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways. 

But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun. 

Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE — Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine — you are not amused. 

You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when she’s miffed with the twins. “You are aware, right, that just by existing here you’ve changed the future? Your future? And, that’s not even the worst thing that could happen.” 

Harry sulks. “Yes, mum.” He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt. 

“Don’t call me that in public!” You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him — to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. “The less people that know about this, the better. It’s bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what you’re going to do?” 

“Considering I was thrown here against my will, no.” Harry shrugs. “And to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.”

You reach over to smack his head, scowling.

“Ow! That hurt!” Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. “This is technically child abuse, did you know that?” 

You roll your eyes. “Do you at least have a plan to get home?” 

“Of course I do,” Harry retorts with a scoff, “Her name is Hermione Granger.” 

“Hopeless.” You groan exasperatedly. “Absolutely hopeless.” 

Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present — his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parents’ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isn’t the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy who’s pestering his mother — even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)

“Right then,” You say after your tangent — which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. “If I’m going to help you get back home—” 

Harry’s heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didn’t want to go home just yet — not to where people just took and took from him. He’s exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. It’s for the greater good, of course, because his existence — present or past — is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society. 

“—you need to answer this one question for me.” Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly. 

Harry nods slowly. “As long as it’s within reason, yeah.” 

You inhale sharply. “Do I outlive Dolores Umbridge?” 

The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it. 

That’s all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.

“That slimy bitch!” 

Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take — you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father won’t notice the way you shy from Ferguson’s touch. You’re not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wife’s passing — as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your father’s jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare — you do not need anyone’s pity. 

The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give. 

You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. It’s not until you’re unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress. 

You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. There’s nothing you can do but cry. 

You’ve used up all your smiles for tonight. 

But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat. 

You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human you’ve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt — period. 

When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. It’s not a familiar one to you, but then— 

“That’s Sirius.” 

You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.

Sirius Black.

“Oh, none of that,” He tells you when you move to stand. There’s barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you can’t figure out what he’s planning. What you don’t expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit. 

“You’ll get creases,” You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched — but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. “Your mother will be cross with you.” 

Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. “Walburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.”

You gasp. “That’s horrible!” 

Sirius gives you a look. “You don’t believe that.” 

You really don’t, but you don’t have the courage to admit it either. 

After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, “So who was that?”

“Who was who?” You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still can’t wrap your head around how weird this is — sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your mother’s hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.) 

“Bald guy, older than Merlin himself.” Sirius makes a face. “Looks like a troll. Smells like one, too.”

A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right — Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. “My betrothed.” 

Sirius nods in understanding. “My mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.” 

You grimace. “Which cousin?” 

He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, “Bellatrix.”

This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. “O-Oh, that’s golden.” 

“No, it’s not,” says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. “It’s horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.” He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. “Oi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.” 

“S-Sorry.” You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. “I just can’t imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.”

“That’s disgusting.” Sirius gags. “You’re horrible, I hope you know that.” 

When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. “Here’s to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.” 

You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. “Cheers, Black.” 

“Will you go to Hogwarts next year?” He asks you once he’s bitten off the tail of his mice. 

You nod. 

Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. “We’ll be friends when school starts?”

Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. “Friends.” 

The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.

You pretend that Allegra doesn’t throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you don’t notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe. 

You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.

They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; there’s no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.) 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“SO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.” 

Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. “What’s the rush?” It’s unfair, he’d only just met you, and now he’s losing time with you. 

You sigh. “Harry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. It’s not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.” 

When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. “Harry? What’s wrong?” 

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. “What do you know about the Mirror of Erised?” 

Your head tilts in confusion. “That it shows our heart’s deepest desire.” 

“Yeah,” says Harry, nodding. “I was eleven when I found it.” 

“Oh, Harry. . .” 

It’s almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. “Did you know, before today, I hadn’t known at all what your voice sounded like?” 

You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath. 

“When I looked into the mirror, I saw my parents—all of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind me—happy.” Harry swipes a tear from his eye. “I wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.”

“It’s—”

“Dangerous, I know.” He laughs bitterly. “Just like finally being able to meet you all here.”

“Harry, you aren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly. 

“I know that!” He exclaims desperately. “But is it so selfish to just want some time? I don’t want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why can’t I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?” 

“Your friends,” You tell him firmly. “Your friends who must be worried sick that you’re gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.” 

“I know.” Harry wilts. He’s got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Sirius’s death. “I know. But can’t I just have this one thing?” 

You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: “Do you want to hear a story?”

“What?” Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes. 

Shrugging, you say, “Stories to remember us by. I’ve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but it’s better than nothing, right?” You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. “We’ve got time to spare, anyway.” 

Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when you’re the gentlest creature he’s ever known — just not gentle in what the world expects you to be. 

“What do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.”  

Harry snickers. “Not a chance, mum.” 

“Worth a try.” And the smile you give him is nearly blinding. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading others’ personal space. 

A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat — but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses he’s ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away — sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered. 

Before them, you hadn’t really known the different ways to love and be loved. 

Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into James’s requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much — one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didn’t even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease. 

(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at James’s flexed muscles, mouth wide open. 

“As I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!”

“Sure, dove, whatever you say.”)

But now, you really aren’t so sure of your decision. 

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Jamie!” Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. You’re engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would — and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what you’ve been missing all along — the thought stabs you right in the heart. “Please excuse the mess, dear, we haven’t had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.” 

“I-It’s okay,” You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears. 

“Oh, what a darling you are!” Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. “Come, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart — James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Don’t think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didn’t owl me letters for two months straight!” 

James whines as he hides behind you. “Mum, I’m seventeen, stop embarrassing me.” 

Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. “You’re going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.” 

With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother — you don’t understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum who’d welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece she’s created on a grumbling James, who’s rubbing his skin to erase his mother’s affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after you’ve unpacked. 

Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and James’s neck. “Welcome home, Jamie!” She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, “So happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?” 

You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godric’s Hollow — it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (they’re not the only ones spoiled; they couldn’t refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Sirius’s motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations. 

“It was fine,” You say in a daze.

Lily sees right through you — and frowns sadly. “You alright?” 

Were you? 

You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. There’s a swell in your throat that you can’t seem to push down. There’s a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend! 

There are hints of life all around the manor. Remus’s textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lily’s O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledore’s letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagall’s previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. There’s a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. It’s a wall dedicated to them, you realize. 

Then, you find it. 

Right there, up above James’s spot, and beside Sirius’s display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face. 

It’s a space on that wall just for you. 

James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. “Mum left a space when I first told her about you. I-It’s yours, you can put anything you want there.” 

“I can’t,” You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. It’s too much. 

James blinks. “Can’t? It’s yours, I promise. Mum won’t mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I won’t tear it down — Marauders’ honor. I can help you if you want. I-I’m not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade of—”

“James, I can’t do this.” 

That’s all you say before you run out of the door. 

(And you’re absolutely delusional if you think James won’t follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.) 

You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots — designer couldn’t help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe. 

James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. “Come on, dove, it’s not safe out here. Let’s go back home, yeah? I’m sorry for upsetting you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I’m so sorry, dove, please don’t cry, it’s killing me to s–see you like this.” Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you can’t go back to the manor. “What did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love you—I’m sorry.”

You bat his chest. “G–Go home, Jamie. I’ll just take the train back to the castle.” 

“What?” He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. “Y–You can’t. Not in this weather. You’ll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.” 

You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well. 

James rises in an instant, reaching for you. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-I’ll fix it.” 

“Goodbye, James,” You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes. 

He grimaces. “That won’t work on me, princess, and you know it. Don’t push me away—please.” 

“Go home, James!” You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lily’s voice grow louder in the distance. “Just go!”

He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. “You’re a coward if you walk away from here—from us—right now!” James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. “And I hate cowards more than anything!” 

You don’t look back. 

(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. He’s all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate. 

“Don’t want one,” He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remus’s gift. “Just want her.” 

Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling James’s head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to James’s hair. 

“I said I hated her,” James says weakly. “I don’t—I never will. I just hate that she’s out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be here—with us. I hate not knowing that she’s safe, or that she thinks I don’t love her anymore—that’s a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I don’t deserve her.” 

James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. “I miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.”

“You’ll cry yourself sick, love.” Remus wipes each tear away. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.” Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moon’s command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are — smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus can’t fault you for running away.

You’d kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you. 

Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“AND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.” Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. “If he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my name—oh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes I’m haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?” 

Harry nods excitedly. “Definitely.”

“Got anymore stories?” He asks. 

You cackle menacingly. “Boy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifoot’s!” 

Harry grimaces. “Do I even want to hear about this?” 

“Oh, pish-posh.” You dismiss him with a wave. “You do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the day—how strange. I wonder why.” 

Harry stares at you in disbelief. “You’re joking.” 

“I most certainly am not, Harry Potter.” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear — last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girls’ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater. 

Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic — then the girl screams again, and you realize it’s Allegra. 

You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, “I-It’s alright. I’ll handle it.” 

“Are you sure?” Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more. 

“Certain,” You respond, yawning. 

As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegra’s side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty — silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones. 

“I don’t want to marry him—I can’t! He’s old enough to be my father!” Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. “They said they’d wait until I graduated—they promised! I’m supposed to marry him this summer!” 

Your heart breaks for your friend — there’s nothing you can do but hold her until she’s cried every bit of her soul out. 

“I hate them,” Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came. 

“I know,” You say defeatedly. 

“I wish I was dead,” She replies lifelessly. “He can’t marry a dead bride.” 

“Don’t say that,” You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. “Please.” 

Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. “The world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And it’ll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?” 

“I don’t know,” You say honestly. 

Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. “Pansy,” She mumbles.

“What?”

“If we lived in a better world and I married for love, I’d want to name my daughter Pansy — like the flower.”

(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap — you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good — more than good, it was liberating. It’s like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face — because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girls’ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank — and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora. 

You get what you want, naturally — as princesses do. You decide then that you’re going to create a world where girls like Allegra don’t cry anymore.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon — no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. “I-I’m sorry—” 

“Yesterday was hardly your fault,” You interrupt him. “There’s no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didn’t know, but now you know. I don’t hold it against them — anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least they’ve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother — erm, Lily — she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.”

Oh, Harry knows.

And Hermione knows it all too well. 

“Others call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,” You tell him grimly, “But I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.”

At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.) 

“LOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.” 

You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. “I don’t drool, idiot.” 

Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t, princess.”

Currently, you’re lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; it’s the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby — the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; you’re good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and there’s no other place you’d rather call home. 

You’re in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. It’s the most beautiful set of jewelry you’ve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lily’s hand rests under your jumper, Sirius’s thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order. 

“You need a haircut, my love,” You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets — it’s gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips. 

Lily buries her nose in your hair. “She’s right, Siri.” 

“I’m always right.” You pout. 

Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Course you are — our girl’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she, Lily-pad?”

“Without a doubt.”

You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Sirius’s chest — they’re not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.

“I love you,” says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. “I don’t know who told you that you don’t deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you don’t even know how much. This right here is real — and nothing could ever change that.” 

As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give — only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your mother’s friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lily’s, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didn’t mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back. 

How lucky you are. 

“Let’s get married,” You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Sirius’s hand on your waist stiffen. 

“What?” Lily gasps breathlessly. 

You smile up at Lily. “Let’s get married. All of us. I don’t care where, o–or about the rings, let’s just get married. With the war going on, we deserve s–something good.” 

Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. “Yes. Oh my Gods—we’re getting married!” 

Sirius stares at you in wonder. “Bloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?”

You grin. “Is that a yes?” 

“It’s a yes — forever.” Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. “Couldn’t get rid of us now even if you tried.” 

“I don’t think I’d want to, anyway.” 

Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor

“We’re home!” James announces in the entryway. 

Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:

“We’re all getting married!” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

“That ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,” You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. “It’s meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.” You chuckle at Harry’s perturbed grimace. “No, I didn’t marry him — thankfully. After Allegra. . . I—I. . . I couldn’t bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, I’d give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, I’d resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone else’s hand.” 

You shake your head. “I want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.” 

Harry won’t let that happen, he won’t ever let your name be forgotten. He’ll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lily’s defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. He’ll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will. 

“What do the words mean?” He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.

You smile. “Time, devourer of all things.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“REMUS—THE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!” 

Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows — still too small to carry three people but hasn’t given out yet, anyway. He takes Lily’s legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. “It’s a film, dove, they’re acting.” 

You purse your lips. “They’re trapped inside, then?” 

Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. “Not quite, princess, it’s recorded. Movies are like moving photographs — but they’re an hour long with sounds.” 

“Oh.” You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit — the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. “Lily-pad, she’s singing — again.” 

Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. “She’s supposed to sing, dove, it’s a musical.” 

“Well, yes,” You begin, and James groans into Sirius’s chest, “But they should just talk instead of singing all the time — Sandy’s got a lovely voice, though. I just don’t understand why Danny’s treating her like that! Truthfully, I don’t like any of Sandy’s new friends, other than Frenchy — she’s harmless. If I was Sandy I’d move on from Danny — but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I can’t blame her.” 

Sirius glowers at you. “You like his leather jacket?” 

“His hair?” James exclaims in horror. 

Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. “If I were you, dove, I’d be quiet and just watch the film.”

“Oh, no, no.” Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. “Since when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Let’s unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?” 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Play the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.” 

“I’m telling Euphemia on you!” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

“—and then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.” Harry’s arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you — it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll. 

Your eyes grow wide. “A troll? In Hogwarts? They can’t have, not unless—”

“Someone let it in—I know!” Harry grins. “You’re not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.” 

You snap your fingers, “Malfoy, the older one. I know that lump’s got something to do with this. Can’t have been Snape or Quirrell.”

“Just you wait.” Harry’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “—and so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces — was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and you’re fairly certain that you’re a better fighter and survivalist than him — not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harm’s way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them. 

(“It’s not some game out there!” Remus runs through his hair in frustration — he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. “Every time you step into a raid, there’s a possibility of you dying, don’t you understand that? And even if you survive — you’ll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.” 

“So what?” You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. “I just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?” 

“Yes!” Lily angrily replies. “That is the whole point of us joining the Order — so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!”

You grind down on your jaw. “You have got another thing coming, if you think I’m not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.” 

James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. “There are horrors out there you can’t even imagine. I-It’s worse than we thought. It’s our every nightmare come to life.” 

You raise your chin defiantly. “Then we face it together.”)

Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home — scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness. 

Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago you’d never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters. 

The alley was quiet �� too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement. 

Peter shivers and you glance at him — he’s become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you can’t quite make out. It’s different from all the other times you’ve been asked to search and rescue. 

“Don’t you feel like there’s something wrong?” You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead. 

“Dunno, kid,” Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. “Everything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.” 

“I get what you mean,” You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. “I’ll scout ahead, who knows what’s been here before us. I don’t want to risk any of our lives, so let’s be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?” 

When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast. 

“Avada Kedavra!” 

You scream as Gideon’s deathly pale body falls to the floor. 

“No!” 

You aren’t given a moment to rush to his side — someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. It’s not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice. 

“Rosier.” You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh. 

“Stupid witch,” He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. “Where are your lovers now?” 

“Jealous?” You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. “We don’t have room for one more, sorry.”

“Shut up!” He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and that’s all the opening you need. 

“Expulso!” 

Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. You’re winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down. 

“Accio wand!” 

The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out who’s stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater — except it’s Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows — it doesn’t make sense. 

“Peter?” You call out. 

“Crucio!” 

The curse finds its home in your body — and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon — hand desperately reaching for his shirt. 

“Crucio!” Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. “Scream for me again—Crucio!” 

It’s as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.

“You—fucking—traitor,” You gurgle, throat welling up with blood that’s risen from your stomach. “They’ll—never—forgive you—never.” 

“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch — SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.” 

You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideon’s hand. I’m sorry, you want to tell him. I’ll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you — one you know you won’t survive — you snatch the wand from Gideon’s hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat. 

“Defodio!” 

You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwick’s quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground. 

That just leaves one more problem. 

Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. “I-I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I had to. . . T–They killed my mum, they killed M–Mary, and t–they said I would die too if I d–didn’t do this. I’m sorry. Y–Your father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you l–live if you joined us. W–We can live, t–there’s still a chance for us to survive.” 

Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening — you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.

“I’d rather—die.” You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. “You’ll die too—you’ll feel my blood on your skin—everywhere you go, Peter.” 

Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. “Y–You were the only o–one who d–didn’t laugh at me. N–Not like the others.” 

“When they find out—you’re dead, Pettigrew.” You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. “There’s nowhere you can hide—you’re a dead man.” 

“P-Please die,” Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. “Please die,  s–so I can live. I c–can’t fight anymore, I’m tired.” 

Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peter’s silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godric’s Hollow. 

Oh.

Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. It’s like coming home after a day’s work. 

You just wanted to rest now. 

The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peter’s next words. 

“Avada Kedavra.” 

(It’s past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where it’s been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms. 

You’ll feel my blood on your skin.

You’re a dead man. 

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe — welcome home — thank the Gods you’re alive,” Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. “Merlin, what happened? There’s too much blood on you. It’s on your shirt and your face.” 

“It’s not mine,” says Peter hoarsely. 

Sirius’s gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. “Where is she?” 

Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. “Peter? I–Is she alright? Has something happened to her?” 

Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peter’s soiled shirt. “Where the fuck is she, Pettigrew?” 

Peter begins to weep. “I–It was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon r–ran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and I–I was too far away.” 

Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.

Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peter’s face. “Where is her body?” 

“It was a disintegration spell.” With Severus Snape — brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors. 

James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. “It should have been you—” James snaps at Peter. “If it came down to you or her—you should have saved her!” 

“W-What?” Peter stammers, eyes wide. “She chose to save m–me.” 

James sneers at him. “You should have just died.”)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.) 

ST. JEROME’S GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lily’s graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand — four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. There’s no funeral for Sirius as there’s no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing — there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail won’t come out of whatever hole he’s crawled into. Either him, or Severus. 

He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains. 

You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemia’s in her tombstone, and Remus figures it’s the fitting place to leave you be — with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes you’re at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.) 

Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at James’s headstone and raises his bottle to him. “Not even in death, huh?”

He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James — Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; it’s a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks it’s a wonderful memory to remember them by. 

“Take care of them for me, Jamie.”

And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for. 

end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!

[hellbornsworld]

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATION(9)⛓

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

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❤︎ definition of love | Jungkook X Reader | OneShot | @sparklingchim

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❤︎ Come Back to You | Reader x Soldier Jungkook | OneShot | @ahgasegotarmy116

❤︎ Endless Summer | jock!Jungkook x nerd!reader | OneShot | @koostattoos

❤︎ By your side always and forever | jungkook X fem!reader | OneShot | @le3worl

❤︎ Birthday Cake | Jungkook X Reader | OneShot | @blueberryarchive

❤︎ Lucifer | demon jungkook x (f) reader | @elijeon

❤︎ KNOCK OUT | Jungkook × reader | OneShot | @btsbrat

❤︎ Daddy Daycare | Technician! Jungkook x Teacher's Assistant! Reader | @miraclesatnightfall

❤︎ Semantic Error | Techie inexperienced fem!reader x Artist fuck boy Jungkook | Series | @ahgasegotarmy116

❤︎ LOVE. | pinkcoquette/Sanriolover!oc x bf!jk | OneShot | @sayokodiary

❤︎ Aşk-ı Memnu | non idol! Jungkook x fem! married! Reader | @sweetcarrotsandroses97

❤︎ new beginnings | ceo!jungkook x figureskater!oc | OneShot | @nochukoo97

❤︎ timing | Ex!JK X Reader | Series | @spideyjimin

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

Trapped

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Summary: Soldier Boy is tired of getting slowed down by The Boys. Luckily, he has something he can use to his advantage to get left alone… M.M tried to hide her from everyone, but nothing can be hidden forever. Especially not from Soldier Boy.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x F!Poc!Reader

Word Count: 3987

Warning: Violence, brief description of a deadly injury, blood, angst, Soldier Boy being his manipulative self, vulnerable reader, manipulation, kidnapping, drug, needles, anger, guns

Rating: Mature

A/n: Hello people! So this was requested by @duhitzdae​ thank you for the request! I worked weeks on this fic, so I really hope it’s good! Feedbacks are really appreciated!

The Boys were seriously starting to annoy him.

First, they free him from his longtime prison in Russia, and for that, of course he’s grateful. No one from his team came for him, no one looked for him, they fucking put him there in the first place. So when a weird group of losers were the one to break open that door, he was surprised, but not for long. 

The explosion left him enough time to run away.

But now, they were there again, offering him the Countess on a plate to show him they could help him. And of course, Soldier Boy didn’t need help to do anything, especially not killing. He was created to kill, after all. But a little help wouldn’t hurt, or so he thought.

Their little squad broke up in two, the ones that wanted to kill Homelander with his help and the other trying to put nails on their road to stop them. But all it did was slow them down. Because Soldier Boy wanted to take revenge on his old team, and he would get what he wanted. No matter what.

So, while the British bearded one and the skinny scared asshole were looking for the twins, he prepared a backup plan, just in case those annoying bastards showed up again to stop him. 

There weren't only computers and the internet he could use to learn more about people.

First, Soldier Boy asked The Legend, after all, that guy was so scared of him he wouldn’t hesitate to throw someone under the bus if it was to save his ass. But it turned out, he was very fond of the one named M.M. and refused to give him anything. Perfect, The Legend didn’t want to give information on his dearest friend? He would target that one.

While the other two useless twats were out, there was only him and The Legend. And one little magic pill in his drink was enough to knock him out for the next couple of hours, leaving enough time for Soldier Boy to check through his office. Files, evidence, anything he could learn about M.M and then use against him.

It didn’t take long to find the drawer labeled “The Boys Initiative”. It was locked, but nothing is very locked for long for Soldier Boy. The drawer broke when he pulled it hard, and finally, he had access to what he needed. 

A smile crept on Ben’s face as he read everything about Marvin’s life. God, he had plenty of choices to make his life miserable, even more than he already did. According to what he had in his hands, he killed members of his family in the past, not that he remembered it or cared.

M.M hated him. He was about to hate him even more and regret trying to stop him. As Soldier Boy turned a page, his eyes fell on something even more interesting.

“This is fucking perfect.”

The superhero closed the file and walked back to his room to put on his suit. There was someone he had to meet.

-

Four hours by car, that was how far she lived from her family. On a farm, isolated from everyone. It wasn’t such a bad life, actually. Spending her days with the animals filled her days with joy, and filled her head with good thoughts so she didn’t think about…

The cows were waiting for her this morning. She couldn’t hear what they were thinking, but she was starting to understand the meaning behind the colors and the forms she could see in their heads. Animals were closer to humans than most people could ever think. But because they were different… No one cared.

“Good morning Lilly.” A hand on her muzzle to caress it, the other was carrying some grass she offered to the animal. The cow made a happy moo before eating slowly from her hand. Pink and round forms filled her head. Lilly appreciated being seen first and getting the first pat on her head.

“Can you hear them think too?” 

The voice was coming out of nowhere. No warning signs, no sounds alerted her of someone behind her.

And especially… No thoughts. There was barely anything, she could hear mumbling and see static, but that was it.

She turned around quickly, already stepping back. “Who are you?” She asked immediately.

“I always wondered if animals had thoughts as well.”

The man she had in front of her was wearing a weird outfit, all green, with stars all over. The only reason she recognized him was because of the shield he was holding in one hand, a shield she saw one time in a newspaper her dad forgot to hide.

“I think you know who I am, Y/n… And I sure do know who you are. Your dad says hi, by the way. Wait, no he doesn’t. He never talks about you, it’s easier to forget you exist.”

"How do you know my father?" Y/n asked, still backing away. The stable wasn’t very wide, she would soon be wedged against the back wall, but she had to save time until she knew what to do.

"Old friends," the hero muttered, walking cautiously towards her. He cocked his head to the side.“Trying to read my thoughts now? Why don’t you just ask me what you want? Use that power of yours. Show me what you can do.”

Y/n stopped moving. She hated doing this, especially against someone who knew what she was capable of. 

Her pupils dilated as her mouth opened. “What do you want?”

Uncomfortable tingles invaded Ben's body. His whole being stopped working, a cloud of static flooded in his brain, confusing and blocking the path from his brain to his body. So that was the feeling of having your consciousness invaded and your free will stolen. A smile crept onto his face as the answer was snatched from his lips.

“I want you. For your power. To be sure daddy won’t cause me any more trouble as I kill Homelander.”

At this confession, Y/n frowned. It had been a while since she was forced to leave home and her father, so her memories of him were rather hazy, but she did remember one thing. He had that mind wrecking obsession of bringing down superheroes. It was to protect her that he sent her this far, because families of all those involved were in danger. 

So, losing the opportunity to kill Homelander… It wasn’t like him.

But no one could lie under the influence of her power.

“He wants to stop me, Y/n. Just like he didn’t want you around anymore and sent you here, because you were in his path. It wasn’t to protect you, he was disgusted by you.”

Y/n shook her head. No, it was impossible. Her father was a good man, the desire for revenge messed up his head, yeah, but he was good, he would never do that, he loved her, that’s why he sent her here! “Stop lying!”

“I would never lie to you,” Soldier Boy started to approach again, and it was only then that Y/n saw that he was holding something in his other hand. The closer he got, the more she could see what it was, a brown folder. “Everything is in there. He was disgusted that his first child had powers, just like your mom.”

There was nowhere to go, Y/n's back was against the wall already. Soldier Boy made no attempt to attack her, he stood in front of her, his hand outstretched, waiting for her to grab the folder. “My dad sent me here to protect me, because he was fighting you fucking supes… He did that to protect his family…”

“Very respectable,” Soldier Boy nodded. “But then, why is his ex-wife and second daughter still out there, where he can visit them? Sweet little Janine… He must love her less if he doesn’t want to send her away to protect her, right?”

Y/n’s eyes were filled with tears as she reached for the file. She didn't want to believe it, she couldn't believe it. Her father had rebuilt his life, had another child that he saw often, while she... If she saw him once a year, she considered herself lucky. Her hand trembled as she grabbed the papers, the need to know stronger than the crushing pain she was feeling.

Troubled by Soldier Boy's words and the folder, she didn't focus on the fact that it was impossible for her to hear his thoughts. That was the first red flag. Or how he had found her. Her own thoughts were jumbled up in her head, preventing her from concentrating properly.

It was so fast that she didn't realize what was happening at first. It was only when her body was limp in his arms that she realized the pinch she felt in her neck was actually a needle and not a bug. Soldier Boy took advantage of her confusion to get closer, take the syringe he hid in the inside of his shield and stabbed her with the drug. Before she succumbed to the darkness, Y/n tried to operate her mouth, give an order to the superhero, but her tongue was too heavy, thick, like her mouth was filled with paste.

“I’m sorry. But we have a long way to go before we get there. I’m sure you have a lot of questions, sweetheart, and like I said, I won’t lie to you.”

Her body and consciousness may have been paralyzed, but she was still conscious enough to see Soldier Boy above her and feel his hand on his forehead. Brushing. Barely touching her. It was a soft gesture, but her stomach turned with betrayal. She was so fucking naive.

“You matter too much, sweetheart… Daddy abandoned you because for him, you’re a burden… But all I see is a young woman with so much potential. You are perfect. And you’ll never be alone anymore…”

That was the last thing she heard before darkness drowned her.

-

“M.M, mate, please calm the fuck down, we’ll find her.”

“How can I fucking stay calm? I told you trusting him was a bad idea, look at her!! Fucking look at her!”

The two men were at The Legend’s house. The latter had called them immediately when he woke up and expressed his concerns when he noticed a missing document and a locked drawer that had been forced open. The missing document was M.M’s file, so he rushed to the house, only to find Butcher was already there. 

Butcher asked him to stay calm, that it was nothing and that they would find her, but M.M didn’t even hesitate to send his fist in Butcher's face.

That bastard found her, he had Y/n. Soldier Boy had his daughter and he sent a video of her to them. As a warning, a threat, simply. 

The video started blurry, but then the focus was made on a person sitting on a chair. Y/n was bound and gagged, she couldn’t speak or move, but a newspaper was held on her thighs showing today's date. She didn't look hurt, but her eyes said it all, it was a cry for help. Then, the perfect face of the hero they had freed from Russia flooded the screen.

“I found your little secret, Marvin. You sent her far, but not far enough… Now, if you don’t leave me alone while I kill all of my team… I’ll have to damage her pretty face.”

Soldier Boy stepped back to stand behind Y/n. A knife pressed to her throat and he leaned down so his face was level with hers. Tears rolled down his daughter's cheeks.

“One little slice, and goodbye to her voice… For now, I only gagged her, you know how she can be dangerous, that’s why you sent her away and never talked about her to anyone, am I right?” The smile that stretched Soldier Boy's face made M.M.'s hands itch. The urge to repaint him, to butcher him until his pretty face was a pile of blood and flesh was getting unbearable. Taking his family was not enough, now he had his first daughter.

“Stay out of my way. Oh and Butcher, I want the TNT Twins. I think you can speed up the research. Cut!”

Butcher's nose had just stopped bleeding when M.M finished watching the video for the sixth time. He was about to play it again, maybe a detail had escaped him, a sound that would indicate where he was holding her prisoner, anything, but the phone disappeared from his hands as Butcher took it back.

“It's your fault!” M.M rose quickly to enter Butcher's bubble, ready to hand him another one.

"Relax!" Butcher stepped back. At the same time, Hughie entered the room, breathing fast, showing he ran his way over there. The young man was made aware of the situation and immediately began looking for Soldier Boy. It took a couple of hours, some phone calls and favors from people who owned him for Hughie to find a strong lead.

“I think I found them,” Hughie interrupted what was about to become a battle no one wanted to see. M.M let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and turned to the newcomer.

"Where," he growled, ripping the piece of paper Hughie was holding out of his hands. He read quickly what was written there, and already, walked towards the door. "I'm going alone," he specified as he heard the other two following him.

"Hell no," Hughie shook his head. “We’re coming. It’s kind of our fault after all…”

Butcher rolled his eyes. Of course, sentimental Hughie was going to have some regrets. "What I don't understand," Butcher muttered as the trio walked towards the car parked on the street. “Why did I never hear of that gal? You never, ever mentioned her.”

“If you plan on asking me about my past, then you can fuck off,” M.M paused to turn to Butcher, his fists clenched.

Butcher raised his hands in defense. “Just asking, yeh? Soldier Boy kidnaps your daughter we never heard of before, talkin' about how dangerous she can be. Isn't there something we should know?”

The tension got impossibly stronger as the three men were gathered near the car. The air was getting harder to breathe, even the birds seemed to know what was happening, because it was dead silent. 

It got too much for Hughie. "We won't find her if we keep fighting," the young man sighed, rubbing his eyes. “The longer we stay here, the more time she’s with him.”

At that, M.M relaxed his fist, groaned, and took the driver's seat. The other two men got into the vehicle, and then, with a shrill screech of tires, they were gone.

-

Soldier Boy really got softer and careless because the place he was holding Y/n captive was really easy to find. No traps were waiting for them to fall in, the door of the small house wasn’t even locked. Besides, it had been far too easy for Hughie to locate the phone that had been used to take the video. It was Y/n's, and it couldn’t be a coincidence... Location had been turned on a few hours prior.

It was far too easy.

The three men had just entered the house, searching in silence for the room where Y/n was in, when Hughie realized another detail that didn’t make sense. A strong feeling of uneasiness crept up through his back as he stopped moving. “Wait a minute, Soldier Boy doesn’t even know what’s internet, how did he recorded and-”

Hughie couldn't finish his sentence as he was thrown around the room, his back absorbing all the shock as he crashed into the wall. He fell to the ground, knocked out on the spot.

M.M already had his gun in hand and was advancing in the room. The sun was about to set, so it was still bright enough to see inside, yet he saw no one. Butcher had rushed to Hughie's side to make sure he was okay, and when he had the confirmation that the young boy was only unconscious, he joined M.M, his gun ready to use. Bullets wouldn't do anything against Soldier Boy, this was a suicide mission and more than once on the way here, Butcher thought about leaving M.M's daughter with Soldier Boy. He wouldn’t hurt her, she wasn’t on the list of people he wanted to eliminate.

“You found me, and fast, good!”

Like the whole thing was only a set up, a light turned on in the room, finally illuminating the surroundings. It didn’t make sense, they should have been able to see perfectly, but yet, that light showed them stuff that was left in the dark.

In front of them, sitting on the chair, Y/n had her head hanging limply to one side. The gag over her mouth was undone, but she didn't need it with all the blood covering the front of her body, her formerly white shirt now stained with dark red...

Soldier Boy stood beside her and shook his head, a disappointed look on his face. “Not fast enough, I'm afraid.”

“Nooooo!” M.M screamed, emptying his magazine on the hero who didn't even flinch from the impacts. “You motherfucker, she did nothing wrong!!”

“You're right,” Soldier Boy walked towards them, a grin on his face. “She did nothing wrong, and yet, you sent her away. All those years she spent alone in her little farm cause daddy was scared of her, disgusted by the powers she inherited from her mother…”

"What?" Butcher lowered his gun, his head slowly turning towards M.M, but the man didn't even acknowledge his presence. His whole being was focused on the hero in front of him. The murderer who killed his daughter.

“It was to protect her,” M.M spat, his jaw so tight the words hissed between his teeth. “I always wanted to protect her-”

“Then why did you keep Janine so close to you? And Monique? Hm? Why did you never mention Y/n to anyone, not even her own little sister? Sounds like excuses to me,” Soldier Boy crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head.

"This is none of your business," M.M threw his now empty gun to the ground to raise his fists. They were shaking. His whole body was shaking. With rage, pain, it hurt so bad it was unbearable to live in his own skin. His whole body was hurting, inside and out. If he had to, he would fight with his fists, avenge his daughter's death. Even if it would be the last thing he did.

“All she wanted was her dad,” Ben sang with a soft voice, mocking the tone of a child. “To hold her when she was scared. To tell her she wasn’t a monster. That she deserved love. But instead, all that love, you gave it to Janine.”

“Shut up!” M.M yelled, taking a step towards Soldier Boy. The hero took a step back raising his hands, now grinning with all his teeth.

“That’s why you never told us about her? Your daughter’s a supe?” Butcher asked. M.M completely forgot he was there.

“Yeah, why did you never talk about me?”

M.M's heart skipped a beat upon hearing her voice. That voice he never thought he'd hear again. The tears that had so far failed to fall finally rolled down his cheeks.

Animated like a puppet, Y/n rose from the chair. Her head repositioned itself correctly on her shoulders and she stepped into the light, stopping beside Soldier Boy. Her eyes once so full of life were now extinguished. Heavy. Empty and dark.

Filled with an anger that scared M.M.

“Y/n, please, I can explain, please, step away from him, come here…” M.M held up his hand, prompting his daughter to get to his side. But she didn't move. She kept staring.

“No need to explain,” Y/n shook her head. She ran a finger down her throat to scoop up some of the red liquid and raised her hand to eye level. “I read the file… and Soldier Boy told me everything. He couldn’t lie, I made sure of that.” Y/n's finger disappeared into her mouth as she cleaned it. “Ketchup,” she smiled. “I thought if you saw me dead, the truth would come out easier.”

“Please,” M.M kept begging her. Everything was messed up. He had to tell her… He could explain himself. He could fix things. “Please, just, you can hear my thoughts... If you don't believe me, force me to say it! Use your power on me, I don’t care! Please… I always loved you, Y/n…”

“Not enough, apparently,” Y/n shrugged. “Not as much as Janine. You thought I was a burden, a monster, you were scared of me… you are scared of me. But Ben made me realize I could be so much more…” Y/n's gaze quickly shifted to the right, and before M.M could even intervene, Butcher was already firing into the room towards his daughter.

Bullets hit metal and bounced off the ground as Soldier Boy placed his shield protectively in front of Y/n.

“Stop fucking shooting!” M.M screamed as he pushed Butcher to the ground, both men falling and fighting for the gun. Butcher struggled a bit but eventually, the gun slipped out of his hands. “Are you fucking crazy!”

"She's a bloody supe! And she's with him!” Butcher shouted, trying to get back his gun.

The two men were about to fight again when a voice echoed in the room. Uncomfortable shivers ran through their bodies, like a mist numbing their minds and freezing their limbs as soon as the words reached their ears.

It was impossible to move.

“Stop. Listen to me carefully.”

Frozen in the last position he was in, M.M didn't have the best view of Y/n, but she fixed the situation by crouching down next to them. “Leave us alone. Or next time, I won't only freeze you.”

Tears continued to roll down M.M.'s cheeks. “Please… Y/n, he’s manipulating you…”

To that, the young girl tilted her head to the side, her gaze now filled with sadness. All the years spent apart, alone, were reflected in her big, sad eyes… The loneliness. All those years she grew up alone, without a father or a mother.

“So were you. Take care of your daughter, Marvin. Be lucky he didn’t kidnap her too. Don’t try to find us.”

Those were the last words she uttered to M.M. The last thing he heard from his daughter were threats and the last thing he saw was all of the darkness that was now living in her beautiful eyes.

And it was all his fault.

To this day, Y/n wasn’t his daughter anymore. Even if M.M would forever love her as such, and would always try to get her back. 

Now, she was their enemy. And when Soldier Boy’s vengeance would be done, who knew what they would do. And the chaos they would spread on the world. The hero was already dangerous on his own, but with her by his side, he would be unstoppable.

Butcher didn’t really care about her, it was their fault, yeah okay, he messed up pretty bad. But for him, she was just another supe he had to eliminate. Still, a thought kept hunting his mind forever after this incident: what if… they decided to join Homelander?

The end of the world, that was for sure.

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @b3autyfuldisast3r @eevvvaa @fictional-affairs @wickedinspirations @awkward-and-indecisive

Soldier Boy Taglist: @akshi8278

[vampiric-tempt]

When Kenshi, Jonnhy, Kung Lao and Reader (female or GN, if you don't like writing a female reader) go after Shang Tsung and arrive at the Tarkatan camp, while the three men are fighting against the soldiers and Tarkatans, the reader is chasing Shang Tsung when her attention is diverted by a soldier hurting a child (orphan or with parents also infected). The reader, instead of continuing his pursuit, decides to save the child, calming him down (perhaps in a very maternal way?), picking him up without fear (may or may not know about the infection, and have immunity?) and return to the camp. And then the attraction of Baraka would begin.

request by @multiverse-fandoms-2001

❝ [kind, even to monsters] ❞

✦ oneshot : baraka x fem!reader

(♡) synopsis: During the event of trying to capture Shang Tsung, your pursuit was halted as a child infected with tarkat was seen being harmed. You stopped everything to help him and someone had witnessed your kind actions. . . but why help people like them?

a/n: Hiii lovely! I enjoyed writing this, but I'm a bit worried it was not what you asked for. I hope you like it and please, tell me if I did anything wrong. Thank you and I appreciate the request!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ "Y/n! Go after Shang Tsung, we can handle this here!" Kenshi yelled from across the field.

You nodded and quickly chased after the creature you were sure Shang Tsung had shifted into. You tried your best swerving past as many as you could. Many of them trying to attack from all sides. It was troublesome to say the least, but just as you were about to snag a hand around Shang's arm, a small child-like scream could be heard.

Your feet dug into the ground as your head shot in the direction of the scream. One of Shang's soldiers had a sword held up to one of the child creatures. You hissed and made a dash toward the two, your body crashing into the child just as he swung his blade down.

A guttural scream leaves your throat, the sword cutting open a large gash into your calf.

The soldier glared at you as you tried to crawl away from him with the child in your arms. The kid had no idea who you were, but couldn't help but cling to your body as your arms shielded him. "It's okay," You whispered. "It's okay, everything is going to be alright." Your hand caressed the little boy's head in an attempt to comfort him.

Your breathe hitched, arms tightening around the boy as you watched the soldier raise his blade above his head, ready to swing down on you.

You heard the boy crying into your shoulder and all you could do was whisper comforting words as you prepared for the swing. However, it never came. Another one of those creatures had came just in time to stab the soldier dead.

Unable to be sure whether he would attack you next, you refrained from putting down your guard.

"I will do you no harm." He says.

You squinted your eyes at him until the footsteps of your teammates came rushing forward from behind.

"He's right, we made an agreement." Kenshi says, but pauses as he notices your bleeding leg. "Y/n! What happened?!"

You groan a little, the little boy still huddled in your arms. "I'm sorry, I let Shang Tsung escape... I just couldn't-"

Baraka steps forward, his eyes holding a look of confusion. "She had saved one of our own." He says.

Kenshi and the others all look down to see the young tarkatan in your arms.

You revealed the boy with a small smile. "I couldn't just let a child get hurt...you understand right?"

Kenshi nods, slowly wrapping a fabric around your leg. "It's okay, we can still track him down. You should be more careful though."

The young tarkatan had left your arms, running toward Baraka. Baraka knelt down and made sure the boy was unharmed.

"You are unharmed?" He asks the kid. The young tarkatan nods and then turns slightly to see you being tended by Kenshi. "That woman...why did she help me, we're monsters aren't we?" The boy casts a forlorn look to the ground. Baraka frowns and pats the boy's head.

"I do not know. She is. . .an odd one"

The boy's eyes flicker to you once again before leaving to his own parents. Baraka watches him leave and then turns back to the earthrealmers and after conversing with them, he had agreed to lead them to Shang Tsung's laboratory in hopes of aiding their mission.

And ever since that event, you couldn't help but notice how Baraka would stare at you. Especially during your walk to Shang Tsung's laboratory. Even after that, during the incident of being captured and thrown into a cell. He seemed to hover over you. You noticed how he would strike down opponents who would steer too close to you and give you a nod of acknowledgement every time.

Now, as you walked through the forest of souls, Baraka let you lean on his body to support your leg with Kung Lao and Johnny aiding Kenshi.

Baraka didn't spare you any glances this time. His gaze only forward. You so badly wanted to speak to him, your eyes glued to your feet as you limped. You pursed your lips and finally mustered up the courage to speak to the tarkatan. "I should thank you." You say softly.

"For what." His raspy voice reaches your ears, yet as rough a it sounded, he bore no malice in it.

You smile a little. " You saved me from one of Shang's soldiers back there. And not only that... I've noticed you've been protecting me. Is there a reason why?"

Baraka let's out a low growl. "You are a strange woman. Never once have I seen someone risk their lives to save us."

"You mean tarkatans?" You quirk a brow.

"Yes."

You hum. "I don't see why not. It's not like you guys chose to be infected. It's not right to disregard your lives because of it, plus, I couldn't let a child die. Whether that child is of a different species, infected, or just different . . . a child is a child."

Baraka's eyes finally meet yours and you suddenly felt embarrassed by his gaze. "A strange woman indeed, but admirable." He notes. "I did what I did because I felt drawn to your presence. I had never seen what you did before happen."

A warm wave rushed to your face. You didn't know why, but something about Baraka started to draw you to him too. "I see." You say.

It was then, after everything, you would be heading back home with your friends along with two new allies, Syzoth and Ashrah.

Your eyes lingered on the tarkatan as he turned to head back to his colony and your feet began to move on it's own, rushing after the man.

"Baraka wait!" Your hand grips onto his wrist. His red orbs turn to look into your own, waiting for you to speak.

"I," You hesitate for a moment. "It was nice getting to meet you, perhaps one day, we could meet again... under different circumstances."

He nods. "Yes, I agree."

"And," You end up grabbing both of his hands this time, holding them in your own. There was a notable difference in the size of your hands and you felt embarrassed once again. "I would like to get to know you more the next time we meet. . . in a more meaningful matter."

If Baraka could look just as embarrassed as you, he would, but his face had remained unmoved.

"I would love that." He says, thumbs brushing over your hands. Even his ears looked slightly more upwards, somewhat like a happy cat. "I will be awaiting your visit, y/n."

You smile and bow, leaving to catch up with the others.

Johnny's eyes flash between you and Baraka's departing figure, a disturbed look on his face. "Don't tell me that you and-"

"Shut it Cage." You hiss.

He raises his hands up in defense. "Okay crazy lady, whatever floats your boat."

╰┈➤ masterlist

[deanoheartspie]

SOMETHING RED 4

Pairings: Reader x Soldier Boy (Ben)

Warnings: fluff, angst.

Summary: you knew soldier boy since you were young until the man had gotten tested he had become a whole different person. So when he comes back after Crimson and other supes send him away, it makes him angry

A/n: Sorry for the late update!

“Why do I have to wear a suit?” you ask with a frown, picking at the tight gold and white super suit and tugging it off your ass when you hear a low won't whistle. You didn't understand why you had to pretend to be starlight.

“Well look what we have here, is it my birthday or something,” Ben says with a shit-eating grin on his face as he grabs your waist spinning you around.

You huff with a cute pout on your face, which always seemed to make Ben fold no matter how mad or upset he was.

“Don't look at me with that face sweetheart” He bites down on his lip, looking at you like you were the most gorgeous woman in the whole world. If only he had said it more in the past maybe you'd believe it.

Glancing away, you walk towards Butcher with your arms crossed. “They know who I am, they aren't stupid,” you grumbled out, pissed off that you were going to be used as bait.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Once Ben had found out the reason you were wearing the super suit, he didn't like the sound of it. As much of a dick he was, he did have his overprotective moments which you had to admit... You kinda loved it showed he cared.

“Y/n... Y/n. I don't want you doing this.” Soldier boy grabbed your arm, tugging you back. The audacity of this man to think he gets to tell you what you can and cannot do.

So why you might continue this you might be asking? Petty. Ben hated pettiness and stubbornness, especially from you.

“Quit it. I'll be fine, Soldier boy~” You sang out, as you walked through the allys, not understanding why the man even bothered following he didn't care before so why now?

“You look like a hooker in a costume, am I supposed to just leave you here to be murdered by this cheap blonde knock-off me?” Without another word, the next thing you knew you were being tossed over a shoulder.

“We are getting you food and we'll figure out another plan.” He stated not allowing you to protest, oh boy... Butcher is gonna be pissed

“Can we at least get some normal clothes then? Wait! We can get you new clothes too, we both know how much you love to shop” you smirk, as you tease him skipping off to a store. Honestly, you were excited to see him in a nice outfit rather than the super suit or a baseball jersey even though he looked hot in both.

With racks and Racks of clothing, Ben looked stressed as ever rubbing his temple insulting shirts that men nowadays we're and how they were such pussys and blah blah.

Luckily enough, you were able to find something that suited dinner. A nice brown jacket with a white button-up, even though there were a few complaints Ben had to admit he cleaned up nice.

“Your turn sweet cheeks. Unless you want to wear that all night, I can't complain I get a nice view of your a-” You immediately cut him off, as the store owner was judging you and him from the moment the both of you stepped in.

Ben looked over seeing the old greyish-hard woman, sure he liked older women since he'd be around the same age as them. Oddly enough though, he didn't understand why you didn't age...yet his attraction for you never left.

He found a lacy black long skirt with long sleeved shirt so you wouldn't get cold. “You look beautiful...”

°•••••••••••••••••°

Dinner. Laughing. Olds times.

It was weird, the way Ben tossed his head back while he laughed and mentioned old memories and how great life was when they were young with no worries... It was like the old part of him was still there and you wanted to cling to it just for a little while longer.

Holding hands, while walking through the streets the nice cold breeze hitting your face thankfully hiding your blush.

Stupidly enough you mention Crimson... His breath hitches and he pulls away from you.

“Ben... I'm sorry I didn't mean to bring it up”

Before you knew it you were being tossed onto a wall, hitting your head on the brick wall. You see what you can muster out Ben being surrounded by cars, and Butcher's voice...

Trying your best to keep your eyes open... You just couldn't anymore.

“Y/n! Y/n!!”

•••••••••••••••••••••••

Tag list: @kat-nee @globetrotter28 @hobby27

[sprout-fics]

Teaser of this filthy bunny barracks reader oneshot for Wanksgiving

“Morning, bonnie.” Soap greets, pecking your temple as he loops a brawny arms around your middle, hauling you flush to him. “Sleep well?”

You murmur a sleepy little reply, something short of actual coherence, and it makes him chuckle. When he shifts, you feel the hard line of his body flat against your spine- and with it, the thick hardness of his cock straining in his trousers. You smile, arch into it eagerly, wiggling back to slot it between your ass cheeks. Soap groans into your shoulder, nipping at the bare flesh there before reaching down to fumble for his belt. 

“Fuck, hen. Needed you so bad this morning, but ye looked so pretty while you were sleeping, didn’t want to wake you.”

You don’t know why he didn’t. Soap knows, just like the rest of the team, that you’re available at all hours regardless of sleeping or not. That’s what you are for them- a pretty, perfect, pliant little fucktoy open at all times to warm their cocks. You gave up the life of a soldier long ago, choosing instead to be this thing you are now, spoiled rotten just so you take care of your boys the way they deserve.

Soap hikes your naked leg over his hip, slotting the flushed head of his cock between your folds and pushing home in one, slow thrust. 

“Johnny…” You slur, toes curling with the stretch of his girth settling comfortably inside you. The Scot moans into the dip of your neck, securing one hand on your hip while the other snakes up to your bare chest, rolling a nipple between his fingers. 

“Steamin’ Jesus.” He breathes, hot air fanning across your nape. “Fuckin’ perfect- tightest little cunt I’ve ever had, I swear-” He rolls gently into you, savoring, not in any rush. You groan openly, clamping down on the blissful drag of Johnny’s cock inside you. He’s barely pulling out, just grinding deeper inside you, stuffing you full of him and then keeping himself there trapped in the tight clutch of your heat.

[imaginesheaven]

Bar owner!Reader x TF 141

Friendship headcanons

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injuries, a bit of angst?

This literally turned almost into an Oneshot *haha* I couldn’t help myself ;D Enjoy~

Your bar “Tango Down” is known by almost every soldier and police officer. It is the ultimate spot to meet for drinks after a hard work day or mission. Since your bar has a very good reputation you are also known and well respected.

Of course, the Task Force 141 visits frequently when they are not away for a mission. “Hey, (Y/N)”, Price greets as he enters the bar firstly. To hear his voice once again brings a big smile on your lips, “Look who’s still alive! The usual, boys?” They give you all nods as they take their places on their usual table.

Years ago, when you first opened your bar Price was one of the first customers you had. Still to this day he is your favorite and most frequent one. After the Task Force 141 was built he brought them to this place, where you all grew extremely close with time. Even grumpy Ghost has a soft spot for you.

“Good to see you all. How you are doing?”, you put the drinks down on the table. A flash of fur whizzes between your legs right into the loving arms of Soap. “Bloody Jesus, Cougar! I wish this freaking dog would love me as much as he loves Soap”, you roll your eyes playfully annoyed as the soldiers cuddles your “scary” Belgian Malinois named Cougar.

“Sometimes I believe you are only here for Cougar”, Soap shrugs his shoulders grinning like he isn’t even sorry for stealing your dog away every single time he steps into the bar. “We brought you a present”, Gaz can’t contain his pure joy as he holds out the bottle of Whiskey. “Thank you so much! That goes directly into our cabinet for special events!”

Price started this tradition years ago when he started to visit your bar regularly. Every time he came back from a mission you got another expensive and exotic bottle of alcohol like Whiskey or Wine. John was and is still incredibly grateful to have you at his side after hard missions talking to him, pouring drinks and keeping his mind occupied with happy thoughts. The Task Force 141 keeps this tradition still going. Here and there when there is a reason to celebrate you pop open one of the bottles with them.

“Don’t worry, love, at least Ghost, Gaz and I are here for you”, Price puts his hand on your shoulder smirking as you take a seat with them. Soap is way too distracted to follow the conversation at all. He keeps playing with Cougar. The two of them have an own tradition. Soap gets Cougar after every mission a new toy to play with him.

It’s usually very calm and quiet in the bar due to the high number of soldiers and police officers. They can keep everything in order for you if you need it, but you are actually able to sort it out on your own. Just like this evening…

“What is going on here, Kick?”, you ask your bartender. He rolls his eyes annoyed, “Just a round of men making trouble. They keep talking trash about the soldiers.” You let out a whistle to call Cougar to you, “We take care of it.”

“Guys, your time is over here. I don’t tolerate little boys talking bullshit about real men”, you stand your ground against the five men. They might be taller than you, but it doesn’t intimidate you at all. They start to laugh, “How about no? What will you do?” Apparently, the leader of this little gang takes out a handgun from the back of his jeans.

Without flinching you grab his hand aiming the gun at the ceiling punching with the other against his throat. That leaves him choking for a few moments as you take the gun apart leaving it useless at the table. The guy doesn’t have enough yet trying to grab you. Quite painful you twist his arm as you push his face against the surface of the table. “Leave. Now”, as you let go of the men they bolt out of the bar scared for their dear life.

For a second the silence is deafening in the bar until the Task Force 141 starts cheering. They others follow suit very fast, but you wave them off with a red dust on your cheeks, “Stop it, please.” You store the gun behind the counter, “Drinks on me for everyone … BUT ONLY IF YOU STOP CHEERING!” Within a second everything is back to normal.

“Stop messing with my jukebox, Soap”, you have your back to the machine as you prepare the drinks, but you are sure he is already on his way to turn on a certain song. Soap loves messing with you and getting on your nerves playing one song over and over again until you lose your bloody mind.  

He looks at you with his puppy eyes, “Come on! It’s my absolute favorite song!” Smirking you roll your eyes and make your way towards the table with new drinks. “What did we just witness? You absolutely wrecked this guy”, Gaz stares at you in disbelief. “You were in military, right?”, Ghost recognizes a soldier when he sees one and you were for sure one. You let out a sigh, “Yeah, Special Forces for a few years.” Price raises his eyebrows surprised. “Don’t you dare to take a look at my file, John. That’s the past”, you wink at him grinning. Sometimes you could read him like an open book.

“Enjoy your drinks, boys!” The team shares a brief glance. Every time they are at your bar they learn something incredible new about you. It is like you are a never-ending pit of surprises. It makes them wonder what person you have been in the past. Especially John Price. He might have a look into your file nevertheless.

The night comes to an end. You keep sorting out the rest of the bar alone as the light goes out suddenly. The little hairs on your neck start to stand up and your senses tingle to warn you from the oncoming danger. Upstairs where you live above the bar you can hear Cougar barking. You already brought him up so he can rest. Now you realize your mistake. He would have protected you.

A hand grabs your neck from behind as the first punch lands. The fist collides with your stomach and the pain leaves you breathless. You can’t see their faces in the dark but you are more than sure that these are the troublemakers from earlier. They keep beating you. The pain is just overwhelming until the darkness takes over.

Captain Price enters the bar followed by his team. To his displeasure you are not behind the counter to greet them with your usual bright smile. “Kick, where is (Y/N)?”, Soap asks the bartender. They all feel that something is very off and they don’t like it at all. Even Cougar can’t be seen anywhere.

“(Y/N) is upstairs. Recovering. I’m not sure about company, but I guess you can try”, Kick knows it would be useless to tell them you don’t want to see anyone. They are going to make sure you are okay and no one will stop them. Price makes his way upstairs followed by the others.

They can hear Cougar barking at them coming up the stairs. “It’s okay, Cougar, it’s just the boys”, you say calmly to the dog as you pet his soft fur. Cougar greets them happily when they come through the door. Of course, the dog makes his way towards Soap to beg for some scratches. After a few head rubs Cougar is satisfied and comes back to your side placing his head onto your leg. You have never seen the dog that clingy, but he is ready to protect you with all he has.

John seems cool, collected and focused on the outside, but on the inside he is raging. Just like the others. Your face shows the last remnants of the beating. A black eye, a bloody, split lip and so on. They don’t even want to imagine what bruises your clothes are hiding. “It’s okay. It looks probably worse than it actually is”, you try to downplay the truth, but all of them can see it in your eyes. These troublemakers broke you a little bit and no one was there to protect you.

Ghost takes a step forward and grabs your chin softly to take a closer look at your face, “This is absolutely not okay. They made it personal.” Without a further word he let go of you giving Price a short nod. They know what they have to do.

“Wait! Please be careful. All of you”, you grab Price’s sleeve to keep them from leaving. There is no chance you can stop them at all. You just want them to come back to you safe and sound. John gives you a reassuring smile, “Of course, love.”

With that they went away to deal with the problem. None of the men told you what they did to the troublemakers and you never asked. They would literally give their life to keep you safe. After that everything just went back to normal.

“Johnny! No!”, you try to pry the beer bottle out of Soap’s hands as he reaches over the counter. “You have to be faster than that, sweetheart!”, he celebrates his achievement and takes a gulp from the beer. “No jukebox for you for a whole week! It’s like I’m dealing with children!”, you give up laughing. Price shrugs his shoulders, “Now you know how I feel.” You lean against the counter watching the boys. Gaz and Soap try to out beat each other in darts, while Ghost gives Cougar some head scratches hidden beneath the table. No one should see what a softie he turns into around you and Cougar.

This is literally perfection for all of you.

   Bonus

“Isn’t that the owner of your favorite bar?”, Laswell hands Price the file after he bugged him for weeks, “Are you sure that’s right?” John shrugs with one shoulder not really interested in getting a lecture, “Yes, just making sure who’s serving me drinks. I’ll take that with me.” He leaves Laswell’s office with the file under his arm. John is going to take his sweet time to read through your past.

Laswell leans back in her chair dialing your number, “He got your file, (Y/N).” She almost can hear you grinning through the phone, “Almost everything is classified so John won’t learn much about me. He just could have asked, you know? Thanks for letting me know, Kate. Greet your wife!”

[previousloversandmuses]

FREQUENCY: Episode 7 - A Soldier Boy Story

FREQUENCY: A Soldier Boy Story

EPISODE 7: “Dead Man Walking”

WORD COUNT: 6033

PAIRING: Soldier Boy X Reader

WARNINGS: (NSFW) SMUT (spoiler sorry) (finally) P IN V UNPROTECTED SEX (pls use proper birth control in your everyday life) Mentions of suicide, depression, drug & alcohol use. Violence, stalking. Homelander and SB being themselves. Offensive slurs.

A/N: This story is dark, and covers mature themes. The main character, as well as other major characters, are offensive in nature, and may offend some people. Please peruse with caution, and remember that this is fiction. Reader discretion is advised. Please message me for any questions, comments, or concerns.

PLEASE DISREGARD SPELLING ERRORS AND FORMATTING ISSUES SOMEONE BROKE MY COMPUTER AND I HAD TO FINISH WRITING AND UPLOADING THIS ON MY PHONE. I WOLL EDIT THIS WHEN I GET HOME TMRW ON MY DESKTOP BUT I WANTED TO GET IT UP ASAP ILY

Masterlist | Taglist

Sure, he could have ventured downstairs and harassed Vought Security by now, but no. He wanted the satisfaction of guessing this. He wanted to know how well he knew her. He wanted her to know how well he knew her. That he would appear on her doorstep like a knight in shining armor. But right now, he’s convinced he doesn’t know her much at all.

He started with her birthday, which he didn't know, but neither does she-- at least, he didn’t think she did. He’s not sure when his birthday is either, and they were both raised in the lab, so. That makes sense, right? He tried her favorite color, which he thinks may be green? That would make sense? She likes the forest? But it also could be pink because she is a woman after all, and all women love pink. Celebrity crushes? Him, of course, but that doesn't work either. And he thinks he doesn’t have the emotional security to even try another name.

“ILoveJohn…”Johnandme”...“John123”… “john1234” … ”homelander” … ”ilovehomelander”...”green”...”green123”...”password”... “frequency3” … “frequency123”... “freak+john”... “freakandjohn”... “ilovepink” …

She has her real name too, not “Freak”. Her real name, her given name, her birth name-- which he's sure is beautiful and suits her well. He just has no idea what it is. He has scavenged every computer file attached to Vought for years trying to find out even a hint. It has always come up dry. Without a lead. He has brutally assaulted security personnel over it.

“How fucking hard is it to find a fucking name? A registered supe name?” He would scream.

They would stammer, and quiver, and beg for their lives. Saying some Vought files are strictly kept on paper, so they could avoid the possibility of a cyber attack. That, of course, was never good enough for him.

“And you can’t even tell me the location of the fucking file, at least? Are you that fucking incompetent and mentally retarded? How the hell did you idiots even get a goddamn job here?”

Then he would raid storage rooms all round the city. Data centers from here to DC, which contain the most sensitive information. Of course, he’d threaten them too.

The worst part of it all, the only person he’d met that knew her name, was her. And of course, she never, ever told him. She taunted him with it. He begged like a dog salivating over raw meat.

He works at it for a few more hours until he goes for help. He must've just spelled something wrong, or is having some sort of brain fart.

When he enters the security room, the intern from the other day is already there. She had the night shift tonight, he's assuming. Although he hopes she isn’t on the clock as she snores onto the keyboard in front of her.

He clears his throat, looking around awkwardly--which does nothing. He then grabs a pen from next to her, and pokes her with it. Still nothing. He rolls his eyes, then claps so hard her hair flies back in a gust of wind. She jolts awake. Disoriented. She grabs her ears in pain.

“What the fuck?” She cries.

“Move.” Is all he says as he pushes her out of her swivel chair and takes her place. He hands her the computer from over his shoulder like it's a piece of paper. She grabs it reluctantly.

“What is this?” She asks, rubbing the side of her head to self-soothe.

“You have eyes. I need you to unlock it for me.” He mumbles, peeking down at his cuticles.

She inspects the computer, then sets it on the table next to him. She squats down onto her knees so she doesn't have to bend over. Grabbing a cord from the computer, she connects it and then waits for her main system to boot up.

“I need you to move a little, please…Sir.” She grimaces, moving over his shoulder to begin working on unlocking the computer.

He sighs, craning his neck over to the left so she could squeeze in. She begins to type, pulling up some system he doesn't want, or care to know about. She taps her hand impatiently on the mouse until-

“A-ha,” She says smiling, leaning back over to the laptop and typing in the information. “There you go.”

She hands the open laptop back to him. He inspects it with hesitance. Almost nervous to see the contents inside.

“What was it?” He asks, trying to be nonchalant.

“What was what?” She asks, not daring to look him in the eyes.

“The password.” He presses, glaring at her.

“Oh, um,” She pulls at her collar. Was it getting hot in there? “It was uh, fuc….”

He tilts his head towards her in a feigend attempt to understand what the fuck she just said.

“I’m sorry, in fucking english please.”

She swallows the lump in her throat.

“It was, uh, fuckyoujohn…nicetryasshole…” She grimaces.

He nods his head. Right. Of course it was.

---

When a maaa-aan loves a woman

Can't keep his mind on nothin' else

He'd trade the world

For the good thing he's found

The club had gotten significantly more packed as the night went on. The two of them are squished together, her back to his front. He nestles his face into her neck as he sings along to the songs blasting through the speakers. They are both wasted beyond belief. Ama and Asher had bought everyone a round of drinks after the long awaited makeout.

If she is bad, he can't see it

She can do no wrong

And turn his back on his best friend

If he puts her down

This was it. This is everything he needed to feel better. It was like he was floating. Her smell was intoxicating. He had never been this close to her skin before. It radiated a bouquet of roses and vanilla, even through the sweat and cheap liquor. He would never admit it to her, but he thinks he was pining for her since the moment he saw her. Like a mirage. It was one of those moments where the breath is stolen from your lungs. Where you’re taken aback by the sheer intensity of the moment.

When a man loves a woman

Spend his very last dime

And trying to hold on to what he needs

He'd give up all his comforts

And sleep out in the rain

If she said that's the way, it ought to be

When a man loves a woman

He begins to think in his foggy, mashed potato brain, that maybe, just maybe, everything he ever did, everything he ever experienced, was to lead him straight to her. That his time hidden away, chilled to the bone, was the universe crafting her especially for him. Like she was a hot summer day, and he was a piece of ice thawing out on the hot pavement. That he got to spend thirty years in hell to reflect and remember and regret, so he could be ready for her.

I give you everything I've got

Trying to hold on to your precious love

And baby baby please don't treat me bad

When a man loves a woman

Deep down in his soul

But he could just be drunk. Lovesick after what felt like eons of being starved of affection. Maybe he was more drunk off the scent of her than the liquor. He used to be able to hold it much better than this. But as she sways, and sings, and keeps her sweet feet planted on the ground, he can’t help but imagine that this was all he was ever made to do. Gee, when did he become such a sucker?

On the other hand, she definitely doesn’t have the capacity to even think in abbreviations, let alone full, complex, and poetic run on sentences about how they quite possibly had been made for each other. She was so drunk, she almost called him John a few times now. I mean, like father, like son, right?

Ah- there it is. There’s the thing she was so eager to stow away into the deepest parts of her brain the moment she even began to feel an inkling of attraction to this ancient man.

Her hand flies over her mouth- she thinks she’s going to be sick. What a way to ruin a great moment.

She goes stiff in his arms, he doesn’t notice at first until he looks down and sees her clawing at Ama.

Her eyes are wild, nervous. She hates being sick like this. Vomiting was no fun for someone who not only was a germaphobe, but experienced the five senses tenfold. A simple puke in the toilet became something of midevil torture when you considered the sights, the tastes, the smells-

Ugh, why the hell did she take that last shot?

Ama holds onto her shoulders, cocking an eyebrow, visibly confused. That is until she sees just how cartoonishly green she is. Her skin is completely rid of all colors. Her legs giving out on the dance floor.

Ama yanks over one of the other girls from the res and peels Freak out of Ben’s vice grip.

“What the fuck?” He shouts over the music, watching as the two girls float her out of the crowd.

He follows them out, tripping over Amas heels.

“I was in the middle of using that!” He shouts.

Ama pushes Freak and her friend into the bathroom, and whips her head around to him, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, well that can’t hold its liquor and is about to spew chunks all over the place. So I’d recommend going back with Asher.”

“What?” He asks, trying to push past her and into the ladies room. “Is she alright? Let me through.”

“Oh no no no,” she says, stepping in front of him. “You can happily wait out here.”

A club goer leaves from the bathroom, her flaming, flamboyant gay as her accessory. She looks Ben up and down, scoffing.

“Pervert.” She sneers.

Her gay friend, who is wearing more makeup than she is, glares at him even harder. Ben watches them in shock as they go back out onto the dance floor.

“Was that a girl or a guy?” He grimaces.

Ama cocks an eyebrow, scoffing.

“Please go listen to NPR, or put on CNN, I’m begging you. For the good of the world.” And with that she shuts the door in his face.

Ama walks over to the stall Freak is currently knelt in. Their friend holds back her hair as she dry heaves into the toilet.

“J-John-“ she groans incoherently.

Ama and the girl look at each other.

“Who is John?”

She puked again. Coming back up for air, “John- he’s John…”

BLEH

The two girls turn back to freak, cocking their eyebrows.

“Right…John…” Ama says, reaching down to pat her back.

Freak pulls herself away from the toilet, wiping her mouth off, trying to turn around to them.

“No j-john… he- Ben..”

BLEHHH

The girls grimace as she hurls into the toilet again.

“Freak, what about Ben?”

“He’s his dad…”

“Who is who’s dad? What about Ben’s dad?”

Freak grips on to the sides of the stall now, trying to bring herself up to her feet.

“H-homelander,” She grumbles.

Now that’s a name they know. And a name they know that she knows very well.

“Wait, Homelander is Ben’s dad? How would that even work?” Asks the other girl.

Ama glares at her, then turns back to Freak.

“What about Homelander? Does he know you’re here?!” Ama is worried now, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her towards her face.

She looks half asleep. She doesn’t answer, just smacks her lips and feels around for some sort of water source.

“What about Homelander??” Ama cries.

“He-“ She hiccups. “Homelander is Ben’s son.”

Amas eyes widen. She lets go of freaks shoulders and steps back, hitting the door of the stall.

“I forgot- I feel like a pervert.”

Ama rubs her head, “No, no, you’re not a pervert.”

She squats down to get onto freaks level.

“He- I don’t know. This may change things. How angry would Homelander be if he knew you were going to screw his dad?”

Freak smiles, her eyes glossy and heavy. It’s a goofy smile, one that makes Ama grimace. There’s no way this girl had only four drinks.

“Let’s just hope,” she hiccups. “That Ben doesn’t find out I screwed his son.”

And with that she passes out onto the grimy tile floor.

-----

Her computer is exactly what he thought it would be like, organized and hard to maneuver. He didn’t understand her filing system, and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask the intern to figure out any more of her offensive passwords.

As he looked around in the files, he noticed that almost everything had been wiped clean. All the folders were empty, just leaving the titles of what could have possibly resided in them before. Bringing his eyes up to the top of the screen, he sees the history tab. He thinks there is no way she wouldn't have cleared it, but it's at least worth a try. He brings the cursor up, and selects.

Yahtzee.

She cleared everything else but this. Quite possibly the most valuable information of all. Her search history.

He begins to scroll down, taking note of the last visited websites. Wikipedia, and mapquest. He goes for the mapquest link first. It takes him to coordinates that look to be in the middle of nowhere in upstate New York. No buildings for miles. He sighs. Scrolling back up to the top of the screen, he then selects the wikipedia link. The color drains from his face. He looks like he's seen a ghost.

“Soldier Boy”

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

----

A picturesque morning. The birds are chirping. The sun is shining in through the cracked windows. A stream crackles along in the distance. The smell of coffee brings her out of her slumber.

Ah, what a beautiful day.

She sits up slowly, stretching out her sore limbs. Cocking her head to look out the window, she is greeted by sun rays--only then to let out a rough groan, grabbing her head in pain.

Fuck, she thinks. What happened last night.

The memories flood back like a scrapbook. More like images than pieced together scenes. She can see hints of the night, the important parts obviously sticking out like a sore thumb.

She drops her hands into her lap, looking down at her palms with shame. Was that- is that blood? No, no. It’s lipstick. Okay, just lipstick.

Turning her head cautiously, she checks the other side of the bed. It wasn’t undone, so it obviously wasn't slept in. She nods, applauding herself for not doing anything too stupid. Peering down at her body, she notices she’d been dressed in her own pajamas. That’s also a good sign. She knows for a fact if Ben undressed her, he would've just put her into bed stark naked.

From what she can ponder through the ringing in her ears, and the relentless pounding of her head, she doesn’t think she regrets the acts of the night before. She knew the moment she stared into his eyes last night that she had obviously felt something for him the whole time. She wonders if it's the mutual trauma bond. Similar to the one she and John share. John…his son. Bleh, and there is the warranted nausea. She doesn’t even remember how the hell she got home.

Did Ben carry her? Did Ama and the girls drag her down the road by her hair? Judging by the Sinatra playing from the kitchen, there really is only one way to find out.

She stares at the door in deliberation, stretching one last time. Why is her heart racing? Taking a deep breath, she pulls herself out of bed and through her bedroom door.

He sits on the sofa, coffee in one hand, the paper in another. She squints her eyes at him, dumbfounded.

“I’m sorry- are you reading the New York Times?” She gapes, cocking her eyebrow.

He turns back to her, taking a quick intake of breath. He smiles softly, setting his coffee down onto the table in front of him.

“I made coffee too.” He says smiling, like it was some huge feat

She looks around with her eyes, wondering what was so impressive about that. He notices her aloof response and sighs.

“I haven't made coffee in thirty years…and that one has a computer in it.” He crosses his arms.

He refers to the digital screen on the Keurig.

“Ohhhhh,” She says, grasping the importance. “It’s not a computer you idiot.”

“A small celebration for you and an all encompassing victory for me.” His ego was visibly bruised by her indifference.

She smiles at him softly. She thinks something would have been different. That maybe he would have lifted her off her feet when he saw her. Spinning her around and placing hundreds of little kisses all over her face. Enveloping her in their beautiful slow burn love story--unless last night was really just the heat of the moment. I mean, he was the player of the century after all. She looks down at him from her spot in the kitchen, and he meets her with the same eyes he always has. A sharp pain rings out in her chest, her heart sinking down into her stomach.

What a silly little girl, she thinks. A silly little girl to think something like that wouldve really meant something to him. The guy was out of his mind on any substance the facility had to offer last night. Nearly a gallon of liquor, for starters.

She looks down at her feet, then bends down to pick up one of her earrings she assumes fell out during her wrangle inside. She stares at it, turning it over in her hands. Her eyes are bruning. Are they- is she really welling up with fucking tears right now? Because she thinks some prehistoric asshole wouldn’t be willing to give her the time of day? She huffs, turning around and making her way into the bathroom.

“I’m taking a shower.” She calls as she closes the door behind her.

He sits on the couch with a confused expression.

She looks in the mirror. God she looks awful. Her makeup smeared, her eyebags sinking deep into the pits of the socket. Her cheeks hollowing out. She looks grotesque, and gross. Obviously someone who is planning on being gone within the next few weeks.

Right, she forgot about that. The activities with him from the night before distracting her from her imminent demise. A distraction, right. Thats all he is. She doesn’t need to be wasting her time on a man anyway. The future was what was really important. Her end goal being the greatest win of all. The most satisfying feat.

She steps in the shower, letting the warm water cascade down her hair and skin. She cups the water, bringing it up to her face, rinsing off the night before. She sticks her hand out of the shower, grabbing her toothbrush from the counter. She makes quick work of her teeth, also making sure to properly cleanse the impurities from her face and body. She sticks her arm back out to place to toothbrush back on the counter. A hand wraps around hers, grabbing the toothbrush. She jumps in response. How the hell did she not hear him come in there?

He takes the toothbrush and sets it back down on the counter. She rolls her eyes at him.

“A knock would be nic-” And before she can finish her sentence, he rips the shower curtain wide open.

She jumps again, her wet body fully exposed to him.

“Ben-” She begins, going to cover her breasts.

“Don’t,” He says, stepping one foot into the shower, fully clothed. She stammers, objectively confused. He shakes his head, looking down at her figure, and then back to her face, caressing her pretty cheeks. He then leans in. She's reluctant at first, her eyes staying wide open. She still has her body covered. But he takes his arm and wraps it around the small of her back and she's putty in his hands. She melts into his embrace as her eyes flutter closed. His mouth and hers mold together as the kiss becomes heated and sloppy. She can taste the fresh toothpaste from her mouth inside of his. The waster rushing in between them making it hot, wet, and messy. The water is hard, tasting vaguely of minerals. She doesn't care. She pulls back a little, but his mouth follows the flow of her face. She takes in a quick breath, gasping for air.

“Your clothes,” she starts, through broken peppered kisses all over her mouth and face.

“So take them off.” He mumbles like it was obvious.

This was a new one for her.

His clothes are heavy and fully drenched. She goes to lift off his skin tight shirt but struggles. He just reaches up and pulls at the collar, the whole thing ripping in two from the middle.

She looks down at his now exposed torso, brining a delicate hand up to rub up the ridges of his stomach. He looks down at her with gritted teeth. He hadn’t been touched like this in a very, very long time. He thinks he feels his skin burning. He sucks in air into his parted lips. Her mouth is agape, admiring his chiseled torso. She drags her hand up to his chest, her nails digging into his skin. Bens eyes roll back into his head. She’s not sure what to say.

“I,” she starts, chasing the rest of the sentence.

He looks down at her through heavy eyelids, bringing his hand up to her jaw and gripping it tightly. He holds onto her awed expression. Searching her face for any sort of reluctance. He sees nothing, although she is hard to read. Such an intense gleam of bewilderment.

He takes her hand from his chest and moves it down to the front of his pants. He lets out a deep groan. She looks up at him with the innocence of a girl gone untouched for years. She palms him gently, trying to elicit some sort of verbal response again. She enjoys the sounds he’s made. No sex had ever felt this intimate before.

She grips onto him harder, wrapping her nimble fingers up and around the button of his jeans. He watches as her hands make quick work of the top of his pants, beginning to drag them down the length of his legs. She follows them down to the floor of the shower, now ending up on her knees. She stares up at him through her eyelashes, staring directly at his rock solid package, begging to be set free.

He steps out of his pants, she grabs them and throws them out of the shower. They plop into a puddle on the floor. Her reaches down and grabs her chin again, pulling her up to meet his lips. He slips a strong arm behind one of her knees, hiking it up around his waist, never once breaking eye contact. Their lips graze, never touching. He reaches his hand behind her and grips her ass, kneading it like dough. She tilts her head back, letting out a small gasp. He leans into her neck, leaving a trail of nibbles from her clavicle all the way up to under her ear. She writhes under each one, her body struggling to stay upright. He doesn’t mind of course, this was light work for him. She was light as a feather.

He drags his other hand up her chest and around her supple breast. He toys with her nipple, pulling and twisting at it. He watches her pleased face from the crook of her neck. Then moving his mouth down and wrapping his lips on one of her stiff peaks. He sucks on it, nibbling slightly on the top. She watches him from her spot on the tiled wall. Her hand moving up and into his hair, scratching up and down his scalp. She swears he’s moaning more than she is. His eyes have gone white, making a new home in the back of his head.

He pulls back, now hiking both of her legs up and around his waist. He pins her against the tiled wall. Their noses brush, their lips grazing over each other. Her womb aches, begging to be filled. She had never felt this way with John.

“I’m rusty,” he whispers.

“If this is rusty I’m scared to see you well practiced.” She laughs breathlessly.

He smiles into her, kissing her gently.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, genuinely curious.

“Better now,” she coos.

He chuckles, planting a kiss on her cheek. His hands massage her ass, pulling apart the skin. Grazing his fingertips around the spots she so desperately wants him to fill.

“I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression this morning.” He starts.

She rolls her eyes, leaning her head back into the headboard.

“Is now really the time for small talk?” She asks, cocking an eyebrow.

He laughs again, moving one of his hands around to her front. He cups the soft skin of her pulsating heat. Teasing his digits around her swollen bud.

She moans, which in turn, elicits a big goofy smile from him.

“I didn’t realize you wanted me so bad.” He toys.

“I didn’t either,” she starts, arching her back off the wall. She gets in closer to his ear. “If only the V worked the same way on you. The only thing I could smell last night was how much I needed you.”

He groans into her neck, slowly inserting a long, thick finger into her dripping cunt.

“You feel that?” She asks.

“Fuck, do I?” He breathes.

He starts his slow assault on her pussy, rubbing his fingertips up and around inside of her. Massaging his augmented digits around until he can hear himself reaching the right spot. With her long, strung out moan, he can tell he’s gotten there.

From that, he inserts another, and begins to pulsate his hand in even, steady beats. She writhes against the wall, her stomach pushing into his. He kisses at her neck, biting and nipping, sure to leave a mark. All this talk of V has him forgetting how fragile she really was.

He pulls his hand out, and drops her legs. He steadies her as her feet slip around on the wet shower floor. He rips the curtain open. His hard cock standing at attention. Her mouth waters at the sight.

“Eyes up here, sweetheart.” He motions his hand out for her to take.

She looks at it reluctantly, then he leads her into the bedroom.

“I’m soaking wet,” she starts, yelping as he picks her up and tosses her on the bed like a ragdoll.

“Mm, that’s an understatement.” He smirks, crawling up the bed and nestling himself between her thighs.

“What if I told you I need you inside me right now?” She asks, pleading with him to fill her up.

He smiles, leaning down to face her pretty slit.

“Then I’d tell you you’d get it right after I had myself a quick taste. I’m starving you know?” He rebuttles, only then licking a thick, wet stripe up her dripping hole.

She tosses her head back, mewling. Her legs going to clamp around his head. He grabs her knees, spreading them apart, and pinning them down to the bed.

“Keep these open.” He mumbles.

He dives in feverishly, like he hasn’t eaten in years, and all things considered, he hasn’t. He starts on her clit, drawing circles with his tongue. Going back and forth between kitten licks and long thick stripes. He makes audible slurping noises, lapping up her juices from her hole, only to spit back into it making it even sloppier.

She is writhing back and forth, shaking as she fights to close her legs. Not that she even wanted to. Her body and brain were disconnected in this moment. Her muscles constricting and spasming. Her altered touch sense doing a number on her reproductive organs.

She tries yanking him up by his hair. Obviously he doesn’t budge. Still going forward with his assault.

“Ben,” she moans, giving up on physcial methods. “Ben please, I want you.”

He mumbles what she thinks is a “you have me”, but she isn’t too sure. Either way he doesn’t stop.

“No,” she whines. “I want you inside of me, please. Need it so bad.”

He lets out a deep groan, rubbing his hard cock into the mattress. Doing everything he can to relieve the intense pressure.

He sticks his head back up, his face glistening with her sweet juices. She moans at the sight. Sticking her pointer finger up, she beckons him towards her. He crawls on top of her until he’s hovering over her mouth.

Their lips barely touch, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip. She wraps her hands around his torso, digging her nails deep in his back. He sucks in air through his teeth. He lifts her knees up and over the bend of his arms, pushing them down onto the mattress. She watches from under him as he lines his angry, red cock right up to her slick entrance.

He sucks air in through his teeth as he sheathes himself inside of her hot core. His eyes roll back into his head. Fuckin A, he thinks. He feels like an addict getting their crack fix. He feels like a caught fish being thrown back into water. This was it. This is everything. Now he remembers why he was such a fiend back in the day. When good pussy was his only kryptonite. But pussy never came like this, he thinks. Pussy with personality, and similarities to himself, and beautiful eyes, and darkness, and light, and human. For once something he dips his cock in really feels human.

“Fuck me,” he groans, beginning to move into her slowly.

Her mouth is wide open, nothing coming out but strangled grunts. She takes it like a champ. Savoring every second his big meaty cock massages her deep, tight ridges.

He watches her face in awe, bringing one of his hands up and brushing strands of hair away. He kisses her lips, keeping his mouth there as he begins to speed up, hiking her legs up higher, and plowing into her sopping wet pussy.

The room is loud. Wet sounds and muffled moans fill the space. It’s hot, and humid. He swears the windows have begun to fog up. The two of them are ravenous. He tries to hold her down but she’s able to lift her hips up to meet his in a fit of impressive determination. This girl is a dream.

He readjusts, hiking her legs up onto his shoulders, admiring her smushed, fat pussy glistening under the flourecents. He watches himself disappear into her juicy folds, hugging onto him like a warm coat. Like a life vest. Squeezing him like a fucking blood pressure monitor.

He’s relentless now, pounding into her, and leaning down to suck her perky tits into his hot mouth. She gapes, her face contorted in pure ecstasy. No sounds leave her lips. Having the breath fucked out of her.

She regains it, letting out a shallow, strangled breath.

“Just like that,” she gasps. “Please, God, don’t stop.”

He smirks at her, wrapping a secure hand around her throat. Not squeezing, just simply for his own leverage. He goes harder, her poor legs definitely will be bruised by his fingertips tomorrow.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He shouts through gritted teeth.

His head flies back as he spills himself into her. She milks him for all he’s worth. He thrusts into her a few more times before collapsing on top of her chest out of pure exhaustion. He takes deep breaths, trying to catch his breath, which never happens to him. But this took everything. Something so pure and raw and good. A craving that had finally been satisfied. She rubs her hands into his scalp as he lays his head on her sweaty chest. He leaves cute, and quaint little kisses. This is it. He thinks. This is every reason to stay.

If only she felt the same way.

——

He stalks up to Ashley’s office, an unreadable look on his face. He barges into a meeting with her and some other Vought executive. Both of their heads flying up in surprise.

“Homelander, what a nice surprise.” She exclaims.

“Shut it, Ashley,” He presses, turning to the executive. “Get the fuck out of here.”

The executive looks at Ashley, and then scrambles away out the door. She watches him in horror as he leaves the room, the door slamming behind him. John doesn’t take his eyes off of her for a second.

“Why didn’t you tell me that the CIA had Soldier Boy's body?” He asks, cocking an eyebrow.

He gets closer, staring down at her with an intense gaze.

“I-,” she starts. He holds a hand out to stop her.

“And why the fuck didn’t you tell me that he had been fucking kidnapped from the bunker in upstate New York?”

She stumbles over her words as he glares at her. She can’t bare to look him in the eyes.

“Okay, first of all, we were under the impression that he had been eliminated.”

“Well, obviously he hadn’t been fucking elimated, Ashley!” He bellows.

She trembles, finally turning to face him. His nostrils are flared, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Let’s slow down. How do we even know he’s still alive? How do we know that he’s even escaped?” She searches for the right things to say. The way she knows to console him.

“Are you really fucking questioning me right now?” He scoffs.

She just stared up at him with big eyes, unsure how to continue.

He sighs, beginning to pace around the room. If Vought found out about Freaks' plan for the summer, they would surely kill her, which he didn’t want. Killing him? Obtaining Soldier Boy? That was fine. He’d happily fly him into the arms of the military and let them do whatever the fuck they wanted to him. But she was off limits. Anything that would happen to her would be in his own hands. He decides to not push it. Maybe just letting Ashley know about his disappearance was enough.

“You know what,” he lets out an ominous chuckle. “It’s fine. It’s fine! I’m sure he’s gotten himself out and is halfway through South America by this point.”

Ashley looks around, nodding her head. Anything he says goes. She'd rather keep her head than question what the fuck he had to say.

“Forget I even said anything.” And with that, he walks out of her office.

He’d take care of this himself.

Masterlist | Taglist

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[buckys-wintersoldier]

Safe Place | Steve Rogers

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> It’s your and Steve’s anniversary but he looks kinda distracted, when he has a nightmare he tells you what’s going on in his mind.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 846

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> (T) PTSD, Bucky falling from the train, nightmare, angst, fluff

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 -> hili! I was thinking on maybe a one-shot with this one? Maybe Steve and his girl meeting on the Smithsonian? and a few months later when the relationship is going well, she helps with him a nightmare bc of his PTSD? Steve is pretty shaken up and only her can calm him down? Maybe he had a nightmare from when Bucky fell of the train and just keeps getting worse and worse? @rogersbarber

𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you for the idea for that oneshot. Enjoy and hope you like what I made with it.

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 -> 10 Years Anniversary CA:TWS | March 26 | Theme: On your left | The Smithsonian, First Meetings, Endurance, Mission, PTSD, Favourite Quote | @catws-anniversary

Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist

"Either one of you know where the Smithsonian is? I'm here to pick up a fossil," Natasha says with a smirk, looking out of the window of her car. Steve rolls his eyes and groans, frustrated, while Sam bursts out laughing.

They just finished their morning run, and Steve was once again faster than the dark-haired man. He just passed the other man, smirking and saying his favorite morning line, while Sam tried to convince him with a lot of no's not to say that line. 'On your left.' Steve said and ran faster, around the corner. Sam tried his best to run after Steve, but he was way slower than the super soldier. Now they are standing next to each other under a tree, looking at Natasha, who waits for Steve. The blond man smirks at Sam and makes his way to the car, opening the door, and then he gets into it.

"Come on, Grandpa. Don't have the whole day," she says, rolling her eyes playfully.

Steve nods towards Sam. When he closes the door and looks out of the window, Sam laughs and nods back.

"Can't walk everywhere," Steve says before Natasha drives away.

// Divider //

After the mission they had that day, Steve went another day to the Smithsonian; he heard a lot from there, and then he was back, back in the 40's, back where the small boy from Brooklyn turned into Captain America. When Steve walked a few meters through the museum, a little boy immediately recognized him, and his small eyes widened. The boy started smiling, but before he could tell his parents about Captain America in the Smithsonian, Steve lifted his finger and held it in front of his lips, showing the boy to be quiet. Later that day, Steve accidentally crashed into you. You threw your whole coffee over his shirt, and he asked you out to get a new one. After that, the two of you dated each other, got closer and closer, and now you're living with him in a small apartment.

Every anniversary, the two of you go out to the Smithsonian and get a coffee in the coffee shop you did when you first met. So you did today, but something was different. Steve wasn't as happy as he used to be. He stood the whole time in front of the memorial with Bucky and watched the movies a few times. Steve's eyes were red and teary when you went back home, but when you asked him what was wrong, he just said he was fine. You're lying next to him in bed, staring at the ceiling, while you listen to the heavy breaths of your boyfriend. He turns from one side to the other, and sweat covers his forehead.

"Stevie? Wake up; you're fine. It's just a nightmare," you mumble and turn yourself toward him.

You let your fingers slide through his hair, moving them out of his face, while you lean closer to kiss him softly. Steve groans softly, opening his eyes slowly. His eyes are red, and some tears fall down his cheek. Before you can say something, he sobs quietly. His hands are clinging to the sheets when he looks through the room before he looks at you.

"Princess?"

"Yes, I'm here."

Steve sighs softly, running his hand through his hair. Then he inhales deeply and grips you by your waist, pulling you on top of him. You place your chin on his broad chest, looking up at Steve.

"Do you want to tell me what happened in your dream?" Steve inhales deeply, closing his eyes for a moment before he exhales and opens his eyes again.

Even when it's dark, you can see his steel-blue eyes. The room was slightly brightened by the moon.

"It was- Bucky was there; we were on the train, and then there was the big guy, and Bucky was suddenly thrown out of the train. He was clinging there- there at the edge of the train and tried to reach for his hand, but I-I just didn't get it, and he fell," Steve says, and you kiss his chest, calming him down slowly. "A-And since that one mission, I-I feel like I heard someone mention that Hydra found a man in the Alps in the 40's. And they said he is now the most powerful weapon from Hydra. The Winter Solider. B-Bucky could be He could be alive. I need to find him.”

You move your hand over his shoulders, his heart racing against his ribcage.

"We will find him, but first you need to calm down. Then we eat breakfast, and then we're talking with Nat and Sam to get more information about the Winter Soldier." Steve smirks, leaning closer to capture your lips with his before he kisses your nose.

"That's why I love you, princess."

"I love you too," you mumble and bite into his chest, making him laugh and causing him to tickle you.

You're his biggest supporter, the one woman he really loves; you're his home, his safe place.

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐨

𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬.

┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛

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