seeds-and-sins

[seeds-and-sins]

Light My Fire - Part Seven

Pairing: Ben "Soldier Boy" x F!Reader

Rating: M (Crude Language, Curse Words, Sexism, descriptions of explicit sexual content)

Description: Phoenix faces a ghost.

Tagged: @tonixe @chernayawidow, @deans-spinster-witchs-favorites, @ophennie @virgoelf-blog, @my-obsession-spn, @capricxnt

Part Six

Your father died in the war.

1945. The Battle of Okinawa.

You were fifteen years old.

You don't remember much about him, but he was a good man. He promised to come home. When the soldiers came marching in, he wasn't with them. Your mother wasn't the same after that, but she didn't show it on the surface. She cried in the bathroom and whimpered into her pillow, but she never let anyone see her like that. You had admired her when you were younger.

But now?

You couldn't even recall what her face looked like. When you thought about her, which wasn't often, all you could think about were words: strong, independent, fierce, and hard-working. Your mother was a no nonsense kind of gal and that was how she raised you. She was a secretary for some big shot in St. Louis, a working woman that earned her own and fended for her own. If not for her, you wouldn't be here. You can imagine yourself aging, having married and had children ages ago. Maybe you'd be in a nursing home right now. Maybe you'd be in a grave.

But no.

Your mother refused to marry you off like all the other mothers of your time. She didn't believe that a woman belonged in the kitchen and she refused to allow you to think otherwise. She instilled in you a fury that remained even to today.

You both lost touch with one another when you were entered into the program. You were twenty-two years old, your mother had made the arrangements herself. You don't remember why she did, but frankly, it was so long ago you can't bring yourself to care. You never went out to find her. You were certain that she was dead by now. And of the things she left you with, 'I love you' wasn't one of them.

Don't trust anyone, she said.

And don't you dare fall in love. You'll just get yourself hurt. No one cares about you and no one ever will. Remember that.

You should have listened to her, but over time her words just became less and less valuable. You didn't take them seriously anymore. Not like you used to. You doubt she told you them under the assumption that you would live to be almost a hundred years old and look not a day over twenty-two. She couldn't possibly understand what it was like to be in your boots.

It was lonely.

Surely, that would be the exception. If you trusted someone along the way, that was okay. If you fell in love...

But no.

None of this was okay.

And you don't think your mother would approve of you attending the seventieth anniversary of the biggest hero fuck fest in history.

You were scowling in disgust as you made your way through the halls of the mansion. Tommy, Tessa, and the Deep had disappeared, but you weren't so concerned about it. If Tommy and Tessa were still alive, that meant that Ben wasn't here yet. But Ben was on his way and you needed to prepare yourself for the worst. The moaning, the exotic smells that permeated in the air, the sounds of skin slapping against skin, it wasn't making your situation any better.

You couldn't believe that the twins were still doing this. It was obvious by the look on your face that you had never been a big fan of Ben's annual Herogasm. He started it with some other heroes a long ways back and from that point forward he made it a habit to host the orgy in his penthouse every once a year. You had been invited on numerous occasions before Payback had even been formed. Back then, heroes were few and far between. You didn't have hundreds of them like there was now. The invites were little pamphlets with splashes of vibrant colors stamped down by a printing press, some poorly drawn pornographic comic scribbled on the front. They were sent out by whoever was Soldier Boy's assistant at the time. Knowing how Soldier Boy was after he met you in person, if the invites had been sent by him personally, he probably would have come and fetched you himself.

That was much like what happened after he met you. Being a member of his team didn't deter him from you in the slightest. Ben would invite you to Herogasm himself every year after Payback had been created. And every year that Ben approached you about the event, you gave a very firm and strong 'no'. Ben was so determined that he would try everything he could think of to get you to change your mind. As if him barreling through your penthouse door in the early morning wasn't already bad enough. He sent you sex toys, gave you intimate details on who was going to be there, attempted to bribe you with food and drinks and drugs.

It wasn't like you were a prude.

In your younger days, you would do anything to have a good time. You were reasonable and rule-abiding, but it was a known fact that you liked to party. And you were wild and fun and carefree. The world was your playground and you were so excited to learn and try new things. Heck, you weren't even that young then. But within the era arose a lot of great changes and great changes meant new things. Everyone was living life to the fullest and everyone was rocking and rolling, swinging, mixing drugs and drinks, learning about themselves. It was a new age. Gone were the ways of the old.

So, you weren't going to lie to yourself, part of you really did want to go to Herogasm. You couldn't count how many times you had nearly walked yourself all the way to Soldier Boy's penthouse. Be damned the reality of giving him the satisfaction, you just wanted to have fun. The rational and reasonable side of yourself would stop you. You would have to do a regroup on the top of a tower somewhere, pace back and forth as you thought up reasons as to why you shouldn't go.

Orgies were great and all, but there was nothing that beat the physical and carnal intimacy of being with someone in private.

Ben had tried to persuade you that way too: It'll just be you and I, how 'bout that? But there still was the problem of him being in a relationship. Take away the public aspect of it and there still was the fact that he was with Crimson. No matter how many passes Crimson gave him, you wouldn't be just some other girl, you wouldn't allow that. And you couldn't do that to Countess.

The idea of facing him in the workplace after that, you'd never be able to do that. You weren't sure how your teammates managed. Payback had fucked with each other in every which way, even outside of Heorgasm. Herogasm was supposed to be the fuck for free card: once a year, fuck whoever you want, however you want, no consequences. What happens in Herogasm stays in Herogasm, kind of bullshit. You would never be able to do that.

Your best bet was to stay away. And you did.

It was almost ironic that you would confront Ben, after all these years, at an event like this. You weaved through the corridors of the mansion, peeking into rooms and steering clear of naked bodies. You found a surprisingly secluded part of the home and took up a space there. You were fiddling with the edge of your cape, pacing back and forth as you waited.

"Okay. Deep Breathes." You told yourself, muttering reassurances that fell empty in your gut. "Everything will be fine. Everything will work out."

What would you even say to Ben? It wasn't his fault that he had been trapped by the Soviets all these years. If anything, it was yours. You blamed yourself for not saving him when you should have. Why did you wait to confront the team? Why didn't you just go get Ben? None of this would be happening if you did. Maybe you'd finally be retired.

Or maybe you just liked this too much...

You don't know how much time had passed, too lost in your thoughts. A sickeningly sweet smell filtered in, a cloud of smoke floating in the air. You inhaled deeply through your nose, nostrils flaring.

"Halothane?" The smell brought a sense of nostalgia. Criminals tried to use it on you a few times back in the day, assuming it would knock you out cold. Either some super kinky shit was going on or something was about to go down.

You followed the cloud of smoke, turning a corner to find it unfurling from a container that rested at your feet. Some sort of smoke grenade, you deduced. You stepped forward, trotting down a set of steps before coming upon two familiar faces. The two men were in conflict with one another, Butcher easily holding back the larger man with one hand.

"Well, if it isn't Billy fuckin' Butcher." They both paused, eyes landing on you. Butcher faced you, a small smirk lifting his lips.

"Phoenix, the fiery cunt, funny seeing you 'ere."

Billy had tried to kill you a few years ago. His team and him had been tasked with obliterating your entire career and even trying to find a way to obliterate you. They failed, of course. There was no doubt that they would. And you didn't blame them for trying to kill you, you were a loose cannon. Still were. You returned his smirk as you came down those last few steps.

"I wouldn't be smiling if I were you. Don't think ya'know what's about to happen." You paused, cocked your head to the side, your irises glowed red. All too fast, a gust of air slashed at your sides as you moved with a startling quickness. Your hand encompassed Butcher's throat and you pinned him to the wall. The wall crackled around the force of your combined strength and his weight. His colleague threw a fist at a nearby display case, the glass shattered onto the carpet floor, he withdrew a wooden baseball bat. The wooden bat splintered as it hit your back, falling into a mess of pieces. Butcher fought back with a grin, making a good effort, something you didn't miss. That grin of his faded when he realized he wasn't strong enough to pry your fingers away from his exposed throat.

"What have you been up to, you piece of shit? You've gotten abnormally strong since I last saw you." You showed your teeth, your hand as hot as a furnace, holding Butcher in place as if he were a mouse. "You couldn't have taken V, I don't take you to be that kind of guy." Your gaze wandered up and down with a sick curiosity as he continued to struggle, clawing at your hand with an iron grip. "Nooo..." You ponder with a pop of your lips. "You took something else. Ya'know you can't trust that shit, right?"

"Let him go!" His colleague stood back now, withdrawing a pistol. He fired six shots at you, the bullets hit your side and dropped to the floor in little dented beads. You plainly looked between the bullets and him.

"Really?" You spat, "Don't you guys know anything by now? For fucks sake, it's always the same shit with you people."

BOOM!

The explosion surprised you and you relinquished your grip on Butcher. The wall at your back exploded into a mess of rubble, a burst of heavy wind pushing back at you. Billy and his friend collapsed to the ground from the blast, while you stayed perfectly still against it. Your eyes narrowed in its direction. As the structure of the mansion around you wheezed and crumbled from the attack, you heard screams and cries for help follow. You made no move to save anyone. Butcher groaned as he shoved a wall off of him with ease. He smirked up at you.

"You're fucked." He laughed.

The walls were black with soot, plots of fire spanned out across the once pristine white. Your eyes vigorously looked around, you searched for the source. An explosion? Much like the one in Manhatten. John had told you that Soldier Boy had caused that. Stumbling from the sheet of smoke in the air, a figure appeared, down the same set of steps that you had come from, down the same corridor. They grew closer, Butcher stood to his full height, brushing off the layer of dust that had settled on him.

The figure halted when they came into view. His bright blue eyes squinted in your direction before a heated glare contorted his handsome features. Your heart stuttered in your chest, fists clenching at your sides. What were you going to say?

God-He looked just like the last time you saw him. Shiny and bright, a little rough around the edges, but just as strong. As if nothing had happened all those years ago, as if he was just coming back from a simple vacation, he was the spitting image of the man you remembered: the same suit, shield poised at his side, hair grown slightly thicker, no mask.

"Ben." He was going to kill you, wasn't he? You could see it in his eyes. His eyes lacked the fondness that haunted your dreams. When you wished you could be back at the beginning, before all this. Before Vought betrayed him, before Vought betrayed you. "Don't do this." You breathed, your eyes softened, the red in them was replaced by your natural eye color. You extended a hand. "Please."

"You haven't seen me for years and the first thing you do is beg." His voice. Even when he sounded threatening, you missed the deep, transatlantic accent that used to make you feel warm inside. You wished you had never rejected it. Fuck Countess. Fuck morals. You should have kissed him. You should have fucked him. You should have loved him. Seeing him here, none of that mattered anymore. Ben was alive. You were right. He was here. You wanted to run and hug him with all the strength you could muster. You wanted him to hug you back.

I'm better now. You would tell him.

You weren't sick anymore. Last time you saw him, he made you swear that you would be better by the time he got back.

Or maybe you were still sick.

Damaged. Deranged.

People could be sick in different ways.

Why would he want you?

Stop being dillusional.

You weren't the same person you were when you made that promise. When Ben promised to come back to you, he was Ben. Just Ben.

Your rational side returned: Ben wanted you dead now. He wasn't Ben anymore. He was the enemy.

More importantly, he wanted John dead. Who cares if Ben succeeded in killing you? You didn't care if you died. You welcomed it. But John? Fuck anyone who would dare hurt that man. You would fucking burn the world for John. He was like a son. He was your son. No one would fucking hurt him.

"I'm disappointed." Ben added, Butcher slowly walked to stand at his side. Butcher must have felt like he owned the world now. Butcher must have felt indestructible. With whatever substance was running through his veins, with Soldier Boy at his side, all of his dreams would come true: you would be killed and Homelander would be next. You wouldn't allow it.

"I don't know what else to say."

"I waited for you." Ben growled through clenched teeth. "Of all the people, I thought you would come for me."

"I tried." You replied quickly, almost pleading.

"You didn't try hard enough." His voice cracked with emotion as he spoke those last words, before his eyes flitted to something behind you. Someone. You looked over your shoulder: It was John, descending a staircase.

"William Butcher and Soldier Boy." He announced, halting beside you, shoulder to shoulder. "You were behind this. This whole thing. It really is all about me." Soldier Boy glanced back at Butcher, you saw a distant doubt at the edge of his gaze. "William, we made a deal. To fight to the death, you and me." Butcher's expression hardened, he was glaring at Homelander with a deep and sacred hatred in his bones. Heat rose in your fingertips, you were preparing yourself for a brutal battle. Homelander shot a beam of red in Butcher's direction and Butcher was thrown, hitting the wall behind him with a booming thud. Soldier Boy faced Homelander, a coolness washed over him and he stood at the ready. "You were my hero growing up." Homelander took a step toward Ben, "I watched all of your movies hundreds of times." Your breath caught as your gaze flicked between them, an intensity clung to the air. The corridor felt more tight and narrow than before. Fumes of smoke flowing from cracks in the walls, lingering after the explosion. "You were the only one that was nearly as strong as me." Those words came out soft, muttered off the tip of John's tongue. Homelander was wide eyed, someone seeing their childhood idol for the first time and maybe John was a bit disappointed.

"Buddy," Soldier Boy replied. "You think you're strong? You're wearing a cape." You grabbed Homelander's bicep. You could feel the tension vibrating in the muscle. You had a duty to stop this, right? You didn't want this. "You're just a cheap fuckin' knockoff."

"Shut up, Ben." You shot out through clenched teeth.

"And you?" Ben turned on you. "The Phoenix. Fire in the sky. You're the biggest fake of them all. The biggest fuckin' whore." Homelander's bicep slipped from your grasp and he flew at Soldier Boy with a roar. Soldier Boy collided with the wall, but he recouped fast and swung a fist across Homelander's cheek. You flew in to intervene, trying to rip the two apart. Soldier Boy shoved you and you stumbled back, Homelander's laser vision beamed at him. You were about to tear them apart again when a hand grabbed at your shoulder and ripped you backward.

It was Butcher. You blinked at him in shock, his fist collided with your cheek. It did nothing more than snap your head to the side, but you were still surprised. His eyes turned yellow and a beam was shot in Homelander's direction, shoving him back. John was momentarily stunned as his blue eyes lifted to Butcher.

"What did you do?" He snarled.

"Scorched Earth." Butcher replied, you returned by grabbing Butcher by his jacket and you yanked him away. Homelander directed his rage toward him, fists were flying, both of them dodging before making a hit. You turned your attention to Soldier Boy, he was rolling on the floor. You stomped to him, grabbed him by the collar of his chest plate and hauled him to his feet. He punched you. The hit drew blood, the boiling hot liquid ran from your nostril. Before you could collect yourself, Soldier Boy's hand was at your throat and he was choking you.

"I would have given you the fuckin' world." He hissed.

"They-" You choked out, "Got me-" Both of your hands wrapped around his wrist and you fought with all your strength. "Too." His grip loosened just a touch and his eyebrows furrowed at you in confusion. An arm looped around his neck and Homelander was drawing him into a chokehold. Butcher tackled Homelander from behind.

You held your throat, gasping for breath. You stumbled toward the three, reaching out for Butcher when you were shoved from behind. The shove wasn't enough to send you off balance, but you spun on your heel.

It was a naked man.

Starlight's boyfriend? He stared wide eyed at you, you stared wide eyed at him.

Upon recognition of his place in all this, you wasted no time, fire balled in your fist and you threw a wave of heat at him. He squealed, patting himself down, left intact by your attack. Your attentions went back to the trio. You punched Soldier Boy in the gut. Butcher climbed off Homelander to grapple you by the shoulder and throw you.

Soon. In a mess of limbs and fire, it was Homelander and you versus Starlight's boyfriend, Butcher, and Soldier Boy. Soldier Boy and Butcher were far more trained in specific combos of attack, while Homelander just aimlessly tossed his brute strength in where he could hit them. All of them had one goal. It was like you didn't even exist. Any move against you was one to keep you away. The three of them held Homelander down to the ground, Ben's chest began to glow yellow.

What was that?! What was he doing?! You had never seen that before.

"No! Stop!" You screamed, steam rose from the corners of your eyes. You grabbed Ben by the shoulders and pulled with all your might. "PLEASE!"

WHOOSH!

Your efforts were just enough to give Homelander an opening and he escaped their hold, flying into the sky and through the roof. You fell back, hitting the wall.

It was still.

Quiet.

You licked your lips, eyes focused ahead on Soldier Boy's hunched form. Butcher flipped on his side and Starlight's boyfriend stood with a limp and a grunt. Soldier Boy stood, one leg at a time, he slowly faced you. His chest rose and fell with every ragged breath. You held against the wall as he closed in on you.

"I'm going to kill him..." He began, pulling loose tufts of his hair back with his fingers. "And I'm going to make you watch." You tilted your head away. "And then I'm going to kill you." Your vision just so happened to land on Butcher. He was grinning now, blood staining his teeth.

"This is not fair, Ben." You said weakly.

"Aww, are you gonna' cry?" He taunted, lacking any jest, all cold and callous. "Gosh, I don't remember you being such a pussy."

"I don't remember you being so cold."

"Well, that's what happens when the only person you ever fuckin' cared about leaves you to the wolves for four decades!" He shouted, spital ran off his sharp teeth.

"Fuck you, Ben. You don't even know anything. You don't know." You whimpered back, defeated. You couldn't even believe that was you talking. You lifted into the air and flew through the hole in the ceiling.

Ben's eyed followed you, head tilting back. His fists clenched at his sides.

"What did she mean?" He asked out loud, "They Got Me too. What does that mean?"

"Who fuckin' knows, mate. You can't trust a word she says." Butcher replied, eyes narrowing on Soldier Boy in question. Soldier Boy needed to think Phoenix was the enemy. Otherwise, they would never kill Homelander. "She's just tryin' to get into your head."

"That flying fuck and her, are they..."

"What do you think?" And that was the only seed Butcher needed to plant because Soldier Boy's answering grimace was enough. He was hurt and he was fuming and that was how Butcher needed him to stay. He needed Soldier Boy on his side.

"Guys, we gotta' go. Like, now." Hughie stated anxiously, Butcher nodded in agreement.

"Come on." Soldier Boy stood below the hole in the ceiling, his fists clenched at his sides, he gritted his teeth.

You were right there. Right in front of him. As beautiful as the first day he had met you...

And he should have killed you.

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#reader #the boys #homelander #the seven #black noir #vought international #crimson countess #soldier boy x reader #oc hero name #billy butcher #hughie campbell #starlight #mothers milk #tnt twins #payback

[seeds-and-sins]

Light My Fire - Part Six

Pairing: Ben "Soldier Boy" x F!Reader

Rating: M (Crude Language, Curse Words, Sexism, descriptions of explicit sexual content)

Description: The Deep and Phoenix are sent to investigate a certain set of twins.

Tagged: @tonixe @chernayawidow, @deans-spinster-witchs-favorites, @ophennie @virgoelf-blog, @my-obsession-spn

Part Five

Sure. Soldier Boy understood you, but that didn't mean he really wanted you. It didn't mean that he would have chosen you over all else. He didn't care about you. When you think back on it, on the memories once lost in your head, now found, you were vulnerable. You allowed him into your heart when you shouldn't have. You knew better than to do that.

And Ben stuck. Ben attached himself to you like glue and you allowed it. Why would you allow that? Ben treated you so poorly back then, why would you allow him to get to you? A few words of sentiment, the exchange of an unsaid promise that was empty and forgotten. You had lived far too long to fall prey to such stupid sweet nothings. When Ben propped his chin on your head, when he wrapped his arms around you and told you that you were safe, you fell for it. How could you?

For years you tried to figure out what happened to him, and when you did Vought fucked you up worse than you already were. Why go through that for someone who didn't even care? Someone who would never choose you?

So, you chose John.

"You're not going to um..." Your droopy gaze shifted in the Deep's direction and the man's words crumbled with his composure. The Deep became a stuttering mess, eyes wide, a hard frown on his lips.

"What?" You breathed, swishing the glass of bronze liquid in your hand before bringing it to your lips for another sip. "Spontaneously burst into flames?"

"Um..." He cleared his throat. "Yeah."

"No. I'm not gonna' do that." Your eyes returned to the massive screen in front of you. The pixelated words had blended together, camera footage and images of Soldier Boy flooded the screen.

"Just making sure..." The Deep began, his adam's apple bobbed as he gulped. "You've been sitting here for a little bit, drinking."

"I can't get drunk so, it doesn't matter anyways."

"Yeah but, doesn't alcohol like-make you worse-I mean-"

"Shut up." You stated firmly, in a dead tone. You hadn't had many interactions with the Deep since you had arrived back at the tower all those months ago. What you did know was that you hated him. You didn't need to know much about him to know that he was a piece of shit. The news and tabloids agreed, but even more so, the way he weaseled a spot back into the Seven made you sick to your stomach. You thought Swatto was bad all those years ago. The Deep was worse. At least Swatto owned up to the horrible accusations, the Deep tried to pretend like nothing happened. Coward. "Can you look something up for me?" It wasn't much of a question as it was a demand. The Deep knew as much when he cast a side glance in your direction.

You kicked your feet up onto the desk, still dressed in your hero suit. You tucked the glass of whiskey in your lap and crossed your ankles.

"Sure-uh-what exactly?"

"Look up me." You stared intently at the screen, not flinching once at the expression on the Deep's face.

"Are you-"

"Look me up now." And the vigorous tapping of keys sounded through a devastating silence. Images of you popped up, old and new, as well as a few files and a short synapsis of information. "Hmm..." You sipped from the glass, calm and collected. "That's my name." You pondered, the Deep squinted at you.

"You didn't know your name?"

"I forgot my name. Last person to call me by it wants me dead." You shrugged, the tip of your finger tracing the lip of your glass. "I want to know something specific." Your voice was distant, you felt like you were hovering above your body looking in.

"O-kayy~"

"Pull up my file for the year 1994."

"1994?" The Deep muttered in confusion, a few moments passed in quiet as he scrolled across the search and clicked through files. He paused with a frown. "It's classified."

"Classified?" You spat, abruptly jerking up from your seat and slamming the glass down onto the desk. The Deep flinched, he held his hands up from the keyboard.

"Look, man, I don't know. It's just classified." You stood fully and crossed your arms, eyes skimming the screen, everything was blacked out.

"Open it then."

"That's not how it works. Some of this stuff needs security clea-"

"You're in charge of fuckin' security! Do it!" You fumed and the waves of heat rolling off of you were enough to send the Deep in motion. He was shaking as he tried to find a way into your information. The Deep wasn't suited for this job, but Homelander was convinced that the Deep was a useful pawn in his quest to takeover Vought. Just then, the Deep accidentally clicked a distant file and a video popped up on the screen. "Stop!" You leaned in. It was Vogelbaum, he was wearing a mask, speaking into a camera, sitting at a desk, your unconscious body was resting on an examination table in the background.

"Day Three. It is approximately eight in the morning, eastern time, on September 23rd, 1994." The quality of the footage was old. Voegelbaum was younger then. The mask muffled his voice, but you knew what he was saying. "After repeated attempts, I have concluded it to be impossible to harvest any cellular matter from Subject 665's body. Her skin is impenetrable to the extent that even the scraping of simple tissue matter is impossible. It is fascinating how the carbon monoxide weakens her thermodynamic abilities, but retains the sturdiness of her cellular structure as a result of those abilities. Attempts at transvaginal ultrasound aspiration have failed, but I have been in the process of creating a concoction that might be capable of targeting the cells in her body, making it easier to harvest the egg follicles residing in her ovaries." You cupped a handle over your mouth, tears peeking at the corners of your eyes. What did that mean? The pills?! You had been taking them for years, only having recently stopped. What did that mean?! "We will keep Subject 665 in containment for a little longer, given that Mindstorm's treatments toward her mental state continue to work."

The video ended.

"More!" You hissed at the Deep and he aggressively began typing away, when another video popped up:

You were sitting at a white table, all too familiar to you. You were dressed in a tank top and baggy sweatpants. Your hair was disheveled and your eyes were sunken and the light inside you was fading bit by bit.

"Phoenix," It was Vogelbaum, sitting somewhere outside of the camera's view, your neck craned back and you chewed anxiously at your bottom lip. "Do you recall where we started off last? Or would you like me to refresh your memory?"

"What do you want?" You whispered, your voice was shaky and you sounded like you were on the verge of tears.

"Tell me what first made you suspicious of Soldier Boy's death." You crossed your arms, eyes frantically looking around the room.

"It-It didn't seem right. Everyone was too normal."

"Your peers didn't seem to like him, so you can't blame them-"

"No. It just wasn't right." You blurted out, jabbing a finger at your chest. "I knew! I knew it wasn't right!"

"Okay, okay, calm down." Vogelbaum urged, you saw his hand enter the frame of the camera from across the table, but he didn't dare touch you and risk burning himself. "And what did you do after that?"

"I went to Nicaragua." You said, releasing a shaky breath.

"And what did you do there?"

"I-I-" Your looked away, hands now rested in your lap, twiddling your thumbs. "I needed to find out what happened."

"Of course," Vogelbaum chirped, "I expect no less."

"The locals didn't want to answer my questions." You lowered your head, Vogelbaum pressed further.

"And what did you do?"

"I killed some people."

"Some?"

"Okay..." You sighed, then timidly admitted, "I killed a lot of people."

"Is there a reason why Soldier Boy's death affected you so?"

"If he could die..." Your breath hitched, "Maybe I could too."

"Interesting." Homelander piped in from his place behind you. You had assumed he had been standing there for a while because he wasn't looking at you the same. You were like a damaged animal and he was your abusive keeper. "I'm sending the Deep and you to go check on the twins." The video continued running in the background, but John didn't seem to care about the images and sounds circulating from the screen.

"Why me?" You snapped, John blinked down at you with cold, steely eyes.

"You think the Deep can fight Soldier Boy head on?"

The answer to that was 'no', everyone knew that.

"I know he can't, but I would rather just leave him to die."

"Wow, that was heartfelt." The Deep blurted out, immediately regretting his sarcastic remark with a hand slapped over his lips.

"Phoenix." John sighed, placing a firm hand on your shoulder, a warning. "I need your help on this. We know Soldier Boy's next marks. This is our chance to get a jump on him."

"If he's half the man he was when I was working with him, we'll never get the jump on him." To anyone else, John was Homelander. To you, John was a boy. He had the same look of fear in his eyes now that he had the first time you introduced him to a crowd. It was overwhelming. You didn't blame John for being scared, but there was something else. There was always something else.

...

You dropped Deep onto the concrete pavement of a lengthy driveway. You were about twelve feet up, he hit the ground with a hard thud and plopped onto his side.

"Fuck!" He hissed, "Was that necessary?!" Phoenix ignored him as she lowered herself, clasping her hands behind her back as she considered the mansion in front of them. Oh, how she wanted to run through it like a knife to butter. These TNT twins lived in luxury after what they had done to Soldier Boy, after what they had done to you, and you would take that away from them first before taking away their lives.

"Come on, sea slug. We got business to take care of." The Deep trotted up to your side, albeit wincing and rubbing at his arm.

"What did I do to you?! Hmm?" He had somehow gained the courage to confront you, when now wasn't really a good time. "I've been good to you."

"You sexually assaulted and raped dozens of woman, and you want to know why I don't like you? That's funny." You said in a dead and even tone that must have sent chills down the Deep's spine because he stopped walking. You approached the mahogany doors, glaring at them, feeling the fire burning in your blood. "You're going to have to do the talking."

"What? Why? Weren't these guys on your team all those years ago?"

"I want to kill them." The Deep gulped, nervously stuttering out nothing before nodding his head and bringing a fist to the door.

"Yeah, I'll do the talking." As you were waiting for the door to open, you couldn't help but get the feeling that you were being watched. The mansion was surrounded by a large plot of land, a sparse tree line bordering it. It could have been nothing, but then also it could have been something. Even with pretty much every part of yourself being 'superhuman', you never had the ability to hear someone's heart beat or see through solid objects. The most you could do in that regard was focus really hard and you might be able to detect nearby heat sources. And that was if you focused really hard. But what you did have was a sixth sense. Your old team used to comment on it all the time. You always had a feeling that something was going to happen before it did. You could always feel when something was off, not right. It was how you knew that Soldier Boy never really died in Nicaragua, it was how you found John in that lab all those years ago, and now, it was how you knew that something was about to happen. Something big.

What if Soldier Boy was here? What if that was why Tommy and Tessa weren't answering the door? Maybe Soldier Boy had already killed them? Your anxiety spiked. You weren't ready. You thought you were, but you weren't. You were anything but ready. What if he was the one that answered the door? What would you do?

You weren't the same person. Neither of you were the same person. He wanted you dead.

"Jesus Christ. Knock again." You crossed your arms, cape swaying behind you, your eyes frantically tracing the tree line once more. The Deep knocked, hitting the door a little harder this time. The door swung open. Music emanated from inside, loud moans and screams of pleasure and booming conversations and-

No. Fuck no. It couldn't be...

They were still doing this shit?

Tommy and Tessa were standing there. Tessa was wearing a leather dominatrix-esque outfit and Tommy was wearing a golden robe and a pair of dirty looking boxer shorts. They both looked aged. Old and worn down. Part of you envied Tessa's wrinkles and Tommy's grey hairs and you wanted that, but it was only a distant thought before you tuned in. They were pleased when they saw the Deep, but the moment their twin eyes landed on you, you could noticeably see the fear blossom in their very souls. Good, you thought, they should be afraid.

"The Deep..." Tommy began, "Captain of the Seven Seas, and..." Tommy choked, eyes wide as he looked you up and down.

"Phoenix." Tessa said cooly, nursing her cigarette. She was as tough looking as she was when you first met her, attempting to put on the persona that made her seem ruthless and brave. But Tessa was terrified, and you knew it better than anybody. You fed off of their fear like a lion did their meat and you were starving for it. "Long time no see."

"Well..." The Deep cleared his throat. "Sorry to drop in like this unannounced."

"Not at all, um-" Tommy froze up again at the sight of your unflinching stare, honed in on him. "We were having a bit of a celebration." He chuckled nervously, clapping his hands together. "You guys are welcome to come on in." Before the Deep could speak, Phoenix piped in:

"You know who started Herogasm?" Tommy glanced at Tessa, they sent each other uneasy looks. "Soldier Boy. You remember him, right?" This smile crept up onto your face, plastered on, hard and sharp.

"Yeah." Tessa snorted, shrugging. "Figured we'd keep the tradition alive. Why not?"

"Hmm." You sighed, stepping forward and scooping Tessa and Tommy in your arms and into a tight hug. Your head was between theirs, they stood stiff like wooden boards. Neither of them were strong enough to protest. "So good to see you guys again." You leaned back, a hand on either of their shoulders and you held them in place, looking between them with that same smile. "I just wanted to let you guys know that I know." Tessa squinted at you, she had dropped her cigarette in fear when you looped them into your death hug.

"I'm sorry?" She whispered with a wince. Tommy chewed his bottom lip.

"K-K-Know what?"

"Everything." Your whispered back as your grin widened. You didn't have to have super hearing to know that Tommy's heart skipped.

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#the boys #the seven #black noir #crimson countess #oc hero name #vought international #homelander #soldier boy x reader #the tnt twins #tnt twins #mindstorm #swatto #the deep #a train #vogelbaum

[seeds-and-sins]

Light My Fire - Part Five

Pairing: Ben "Soldier Boy" x F!Reader

Rating: M (Crude Language, Curse Words, Sexism)

Description: Soldier Boy is alive.

Tagged: @tonixe, @chernayawidow, @mrsjenniferwinchester, @deans-spinster-witchs-favorites @ophennie, @virgoelf-blog, @my-obsession-spn

Part Four

You returned when the sun had fallen, gliding down onto the balcony of your penthouse with grace. The lights were on and through the stretch of window you could see Homelander pacing inside, Ashley waiting on the black leather couch with the most panicked expression on her face, and Agnes sitting alongside her. Ashley jumped to her feet when you entered the penthouse through the sliding glass window and her face turned bright red at the sight of you.

You were calm, devoid of any emotion, and covered in dirt. The earthy substance was smeared on your cheeks, stuck in your hair, tucked under your fingernails, blending in with the black of your hero suit.

"Where the fuck were you?!" Homelander hissed as he closed in on you, you blankly stared at him, your eyes then looking him up and down. His eyebrows furrowed and his neck craned back as he stood straighter. You didn't reply, stepping into his body and wrapping your arms around him. Homelander's enraged expression devolved into confusion and surprise. You began to sniffle, droplets of tears fell over the swoops of your cheeks and sizzled into a steam. You hugged him so tightly that he wasn't able to pry you off. Moments of silence followed until John placed a palm on your back, body drooping with a sigh.

"I haven't seen you for months, you little shit." You tucked your head back and looked up at him, Homelander was making an effort to look anywhere else. "John?" You called in a whisper, but he didn't crack, a wet gloss rising in his blue steely gaze.

"Where did you go?" He spat through clenched teeth. You withdrew completely, exhaling a huff of air that flowed from your lips as smoke.

"I went to Soldier Boy's gravesite." You answered as you rounded the table toward the small stand of liquors beside the flat screen tv.

"Oh fuck." Ashley was trembling as she cupped a hand over her forehead and dropped to the couch.

"Why?! What did you do?!" Agnes breathed, Homelander remained silent. You didn't answer immediately, your cape swaying from side to side as you poured yourself a glass of bourbon.

"I dug out his coffin and broke inside."

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Ashley exclaimed, she jumped up from the couch and began pacing. "How are we going to explain this?! Fuck!"

"Just say some graverobbers did it." You offered coolly as you propped a hand on your hip, the other bringing the glass to your lips. You faced Homelander, meeting his stare over the brim of your glass. He cleared his throat, clasping his hands behind his back, collecting himself.

"And what did you find?"

"Nothing." You winced at the satisfying burn of the liquid. You were far too calm for someone who just had a surge of overwhelming realizations, but the flight to and from D.C. was long enough that you had been able to think everything through and you had lulled yourself into a lack of care. "Soldier Boy is alive."

"Soldier Boy's corpse was highly radioactive when he died..." Homelander explained, his boots clicking against the marble floor as he stepped forward. "They weren't going to risk keeping him at a fuckin' memorial."

"Possibly." You gritted your teeth, "Except I know that he's alive. I've always known. Found out a long time ago and Mindstorm fucked with my head."

"Hmm." Homelander's only reply.

"Oh, this is bad. This is so fuckin' bad!" Ashley wheezed, she was holding a palm over her chest. "Okay, so when this get's out, what do we do?! People are gonna' find out he's alive. People-"

"Shut the fuck up, Ashley!" Homelander roared and Ashley was stunned into a quiet, cowering away. And that interaction was too suspicious for you to miss because you directed your gaze back to Homelander, furrowed brow, the corner of your cheek twitched.

"You know something..." You breathed, placing your glass down on the coffee table as you approached with even steps. Homelander couldn't look at you, eyes flicking this way and that, jaw clenched. "What aren't you telling me?" Homelander sniffed, then paced away from you and you couldn't help but follow after him. "I'm not going away." You stated firmly, "This shit isn't going away, John."

"You want to go find Soldier Boy. Go on. Go find him." John's gloves squeaked with the clench of his fists. "He's alive and he's coming."

"What are you talking about?"

"Soldier Boy! We saw him." Ashley was downright haywire, having a mental breakdown right in front of you. She held her clipboard with a vice grip.

"You saw him?" You squinted at her, everything was happening so fast. Soldier Boy was where?! Here?!

"He was at the Chimp Sanctuary. We saw him-Well-He um-"

"He's killing his whole team. Soon he'll be after you, Noir too." Homelander stated the facts with a dismissive tone. Your heart leapt into your throat and you vigorously shook your head.

"But I never-"

"He doesn't know that, and frankly, he could care less." You gulped, crossing your arms. Soldier Boy wouldn't hurt you. Ben was confused. Ben didn't know what they did to you. You couldn't imagine what they did to him. How did he get here? Where has he been all these years? Everything you knew about the matter had been erased or suppressed by Mindstorm. You could at least feel that you knew. You knew that at some point you had figured everything out and Vought didn't want that. What else weren't they telling you? What else did Homelander know? "Phoenix, I need you here. With me." Homelander had turned to you, placing his hands on your shoulders, hands sliding up till he was cupping your cheeks. "I need people near me that I can trust. I need to know that you are with me."

"I-If-" You cupped a hand over one of Homelander's. "Maybe if I talk to him-"

"No, you can't. I won't allow it." His gloved thumbs began wiping away your tears, even if your powers had a habit of making the salty droplets evaporate anyways.

"Please, John. For so long-"

"What do you think will happen when people find out he's alive?!" Homelander spat. "No one's going to care about me anymore. No one's going to care about you. He'll kill us all."

"He wouldn't."

"You don't know that. You didn't see what he did." Homelander lifted his chin, hands returning to their place at his back. "That explosion in Manhatten? It wasn't a stupid fuckin' super villain attack, it was him. And he's going to do it again." You chewed the inside of your cheek, the heat inside you was gone. You were tired. So tired. So sick of this shit. You wished you were young again, and free. You wished had never signed up for the hero program in the first place. Before all this, life was simple. Before all this, you were human. Now you were bound to immortality, now you were bound to chaos and destruction. Your whole life laid out for you. You were as much a monster as Homelander, as much a narcissist as Soldier Boy, as much a whore as Countess.

"John, you don't understand..." Your fingertips pressed to your lips and you were shaking, about to break down in sobs. You hadn't cried as much as you had today in years. Heck, you don't even remember the last time you cried. It's not like your powers allowed any of it to show. Steam would shoot from the edges of your eyes, tears would boil away into nothingness. "I loved him. So much." He understood me.

It's why I decided to take you with me, John.

You were a terrible mother. There was no doubt about that. You hadn't been fit for parenthood when you found John. When you took him from that facility, you went right back to your old ways. There was no amount of pills that could save you from the depression and the negligence and the murderous rage that built within you on the daily.

You had thought John would fix that, but instead, you just let the kid do whatever the fuck he wanted. John grew up with your tender love and care, but he also grew up watching you be a shitty person. John took that in stride. Vogelbaum had ran experiments on John, Vogelbaum had been anything but loving to him for the first half of the boy's life. So, when John was taken under your wing, all you did was take what he knew and made it worse. John was always one bad day away from destroying the world. Just like you.

But John reminded you of Ben.

When John looked at you, you saw Ben's eyes.

When John smiled at you, you saw Ben's smile.

When John hugged you back, you could feel Ben's strength.

Before Ben, there was no one like you. There was no one that understood the immense power that the Compound V had imbued you with. Not even Lady Liberty compared in the old days. It was only ever Ben that knew what any of it felt like. And when you met John, you wanted to be that person for him. You saw in him a loneliness that rivalled your own. You wanted to protect him and love him, and you hoped in return that he would do the same to you.

Someone like you. Someone like Ben.

And now John was asking you to choose between the only man you ever genuinely loved and the boy now man that you considered to be the son you never had.

"If we don't stop him, who knows what he's going to do?" Homelander continued, then he shrugged. "He already killed the Crimson Countess. He blew up an entire city block, killing dozens of innocent civilians. Who will be next?" Your eyes slid shut and your shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. After a long pause of you searching your mind for a way out of this, you couldn't find an answer.

So, nodding your head, you reply with your entire soul:

"I choose you, John." You croaked out, opening your eyes to find his own. He was gazing at you, a certain softness there, only reserved for you. It seemed like forever ago that Stillwell tried to put a wedge between you both, but the connection you had with John was the same one you had with Ben all those years ago. You understood each other and nothing could disturb that understanding. Your lips quirked up in a sad smile. "I'll always choose you."

...

"Jesus Christ, can you believe that bitch on the news last night?" Dan said, itching his chin and leaning back into his leather chair with crossed arms.

"You're talking about that news anchor with the big tits, right?" Countess replied in between drags of her cigarette, a bored expression on her face. "If you ask me, those things definitely aren't real."

"You think so?" You pondered, twiddling your thumbs, hunched over your edge of the black marble table, lost in contemplation and drawn from your thoughts by the ramblings of your fellow team members. "How would she have been able to afford that? What kind of salary does a news anchor even make?"

"Her salary has gotta' be in the hundreds." Came Tessa's unflinching response.

"A year?!" You smacked your hand on the table and vigorously shook your head. "No way!"

"Especially not as a female." Crimson added.

"A news anchor with big tits. I'd believe it. She's rolling in the dough." Swatto finally spoke, after having been surprisingly silent since he entered Payback's conference room.

"That means she's making more than us." You weren't convinced, nose wrinkling at the thought. "Nah, I don't think so."

"Enough about her tits!" Dan interrupted in irritation. "Did you see what she said about me?" Tessa chuckled, elbowing her brother as she pointed across the lengthy table at Dan.

"I knew it! You dicked her down!" Tessa accused, obnoxious chuckles filling the room.

"I would have you know, It was purely consensual!"

"It was purely consensual." Countess mimicked with a coy smirk, "Consensual or not, she clearly didn't like it."

"You know what they say about guys with big brains..." You began, Tessa finished it for you with...

"SMALL DICKS!" And you both jumped up and high five across the table, Dan's protests unable to mask your laughter.

"I don't have a small dick."

"That's exactly what a guy with a small dick would say." Countess chimed, the three ladies laughed before another familiar face entered the room.

"Earving!" You greeted merrily, the man rounded toward your end of the table and as he passed, you glided your fingers against his side. "How did your pitch go?"

"Uh, it went alright, I guess." He plopped into the seat next to, everything at the table quietly waited for him to elaborate. "Well," Earving smiled, "He said maybe."

"Maybe doesn't mean never!" You exclaimed, smiling in his direction, "I would love to see a comedy show with you. You always make me laugh."

"Actually..." Earving cleared his throat, nervously playing with his mask in hand. "I was thinking that maybe I could do a movie. Like Beverly Hills Cop o'somethin'. I want to be an actor." You were the only person that applauded the idea with a genuine smile on your face. You liked Earving. He really did always have a way of making you laugh. And sometimes, you needed it.

"That would be awesome! Count me in as the first person to be at your premiere."

"Premiere where?" The room shuffled, everything went drop dead silent. Soldier Boy hovered in the double doorway, staring down the table with an all too friendly grin. Gunpowder paraded in behind him, quickly shuffling to his seat at the end, but not at the head. That seat was reserved for Soldier Boy.

"Um..." You sent Noir an uneasy glance. You knew how long he had been planning this and the team had already agreed to keep it secret from Soldier Boy. Soldier Boy didn't like it when others were given opportunities, be it movies or advertisements. Ben liked being in the know about everything that his team was involved with. Unfairly so, Noir had never been given his own blockbuster because of Soldier Boy's constant disapproval of the idea. You all knew it was wrong, but only you were ever bold enough to speak up about.

"Hopefully, you're talking about my new movie coming out, The Rains of Fire." Soldier Boy entered the room, as he stalked around the table, everyone straightened themselves, the atmosphere went tense. "It's a war pic. I think you'd like it Phoenix." You could see Crimson's scowl from the corner of your eye.

"No, thanks. I only go to your movies when my profession forces me to." The insult lingered in the air, pulled the air taut like a rubber band about to snap. Dan shook his head, mouthing 'Stop' to you.

"Oh yeah?" Soldier Boy growled lowly, "And why is that, hot stuff?"

Without missing a beat.

"You're a terrible actor." You said it so bluntly, you could hear Soldier Boy's teeth gritting from across the table. He forced a smile at you, licking his lips.

"Can we go one day without you two arguing? I'm sick of it." Countess put her cigarette out in the tray at the center of the table. You adjusted your posture and nodded respectfully.

"Easy. If he keeps his mouth shut, we won't have to argue."

"Why you little-" Whatever horrid insult Ben was going to hurl at you was interrupted when the Legend entered the room in fast stride, several others following closely behind.

"Alright, Kids! We got a big agenda today, so listen up!"

Ben and you shared one last glare before tuning into the meeting.

It wasn't anything you hadn't heard before; shareholders, advertisements, upcoming board meetings, events, interviews. You were used to this kind of talk. It also helped that you spoke to the Legend regularly and so, you had already been notified about all of this before. You could just zone out if you wanted, but sometimes it was nice to poke the bear. You don't know why you bothered. Maybe part of you even liked it, but seeing Soldier Boy's face when you asked a certain question or made a certain comment. It pleased you greatly.

Soldier Boy was to do a team up with Swatto?

Are you so certain that Soldier Boy can even handle himself out there?

Soldier Boy was to do an interview on the Tonight Show?

God, who knows what he's going to say when he is up there. He'll just embarass all of us.

But you recalled something that would make Soldier Boy's skin crawl and you just had to do it. As the Legend was finishing up the meeting, you rose your hand.

"Yes, my lovely fireball, what's up?"

"For the hero gala next week, I was wondering if..."

"Yes?"

"Earving and I could go as a pairing." Before the Legend could even respond, Soldier Boy did it for him.

"Absolutely not!" Soldier Boy laid down the law immediately, standing to his full height and scowling at you. "That crosses the line, Phoenix!"

"I'm sorry, but why exactly does it cross the line? Was there even a line to begin with?" You felt only a little bad for Earving. He hadn't expected this, so you couldn't blame him for shrinking in his seat. "Neither of us have dates. I think it would be a great idea."

"Hmm, why not." The Legend shrugged, but he frowned at the sight of a fuming Soldier Boy. "If this is gonna' be a problem for you two, then maybe neither of you will be going." He asserted, except Soldier Boy didn't think of such an assertion as punishment.

"That's fine by me."

"Ben." Countess hissed in warning, "You can't be serious."

"Phoenix can't go around dating other members of the team. It will disturb the natural flow of things." Everyone knew that was a shit argument, even the Legend raised a brow in question.

"Screw that. Crimson Countess and you are engaged." You shot back, Soldier Boy's face wrinkled and he shook his head.

"Because a team needs a little bit of romance. It doesn't mean anything." Oh, that stung. You could see Crimson physically deflate into her seat at the other side of the table and you couldn't help but feel sorry for her. "I'm the leader of this team and I'm saying 'no'." Enough was enough.

"Okay, leader of the team, but you're by no means my boss." Your head tilted to look at Earving, you grabbed his hand under the table and sent him a hopeful smile. This was important. Phoenix couldn't be the only one fighting back anymore. Soldier Boy needed to realize he was not a king, or a god. Ben was just like everyone else. "Come on, Noir. What do you say?" Earving paused for a moment, then he vigorously nodded his head.

"Actually yeah, I would love to go to the gala with you." Soldier Boy must had been seeing red, the rage that flowed through him was evident in the sharp stare he directed at Noir.

"I don't care who goes with who at this point. I got more important shit to take care of." The Legend dismissed, "Don't cause trouble please." He waved at the team on his way out of the conference room.

Soldier Boy was seated in his chair again, arms crossed, lips pursed. You could only describe it as a pout. The grown man was throwing a tantrum over you. Not the first time to be honest and you knew it wouldn't be the last and you were done with it. You weren't his toy. You weren't *his*. He needed to learn how to deal with you having a good time with someone that wasn't him, someone that never would be him.

It was quiet aside from the usual shuffles and squeaks of leather chairs as members of the team stood and left. Everyone knew what was about to happen. Crimson shot up from her chair, storming out of the room, and you couldn't blame her for not saying goodbye. Noir and you walked out side by side. You acknowledged that everyone was going to be leaving Soldier Boy in that room to pout.

"You didn't have to do that." Noir said, "I know you're just trying to make a point."

"Not really, only kind of..." You smiled, looping your fingers with his again. "I know you got all the girls throwing themselves at you, but I really do like you." The tension in Earving's shoulders dropped and you couldn't see his face beneath that mask but you heard the smile in voice when he responded.

"Really? I mean, I just always thought you were being nice."

"There are very few people that I like. Trust me, you'll know when I'm just being nice." You had to play nice all the time: In front of news reporters, on movie sets, in interviews, it seemingly never ended. But arguably, there were a few people you felt you could be your true self around. The Legend, for one, someone you would kill for, Countess, who-oddly enough-didn't seem to be stopping by your penthouse that much lately, Noir, who always made you giggle and blush, and Ben-

No. Not Ben.

You hated Ben, remember?!

Biggest asshole in the world, Ben?! That Ben!

But perhaps it was true. You didn't have to play nice with Ben. You never had. It almost felt natural, removing that metaphorical mask of herodom as you interacted with him on the day to day. Sometimes you even welcomed his presence because it meant you could just unload all of your stresses. You didn't have to play nice with Ben.

The thought made your eyebrows furrow and Noir had to clear his throat to drag you back out of the recesses of your brain and into the moment.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. So excited for next week though. Seriously, I want this." You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and Earving chuckled.

"I'm looking forward to it too." He lifted your hand, cupping his other over your knuckles and caressing your wrist with his thumb. "Look, I have to go do patrol with Mindstorm, but maybe we could hang out when I get back?"

"I would really like that." You gently pulled him toward you and rose up on the toes of your boots to kiss the cheek of his mask. He chuckled adorably when you did, pressing your knuckles to the mouth of his mask.

"I'll see you later then." He released you to start a walk down the hall, glancing at you one last time before disappearing around the bend of the hallway.

You stared after his exit in silence, inhaling a deep breath. Noir was a sweet guy. And for once, you just wanted to go on a date with someone and have a good time. God, you couldn't remember the last time you had even gotten laid. Soldier Boy always interrupted. Always. You knew it was purposeful. If he couldn't have you, then no one would, as he so reminded you several times.

"You fuckin' whore." It was Soldier Boy. You knew it. He was the only person who ever dared talk to you like that to your face. You didn't give him the satisfaction of attention and you began walking away. His boots stomped against the marble floor, echoed through the empty hallway. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?!" You didn't answer once more, continuing in stride, and Soldier Boy was hot at your heels.

You were suddenly being snatched by the back of your neck. Your face being slammed into a wall, it left a crater like hole. You fought back.

"Fuck you." You got out of the hold easily, but instead of wasting your energy and physically fighting him like you always did, you paused. Soldier Boy stared at you, having braced for a fist to the gut or a slap across the face or a flying fireball of rage. His handsome face was contorted in disgust, lips turned down, eyes narrowed. "I'm sick of this, Ben. I'm sick of you constantly hovering over me. Do you not have better things to do?!"

"I'm the leader of this team."

"Bullshit excuse for treating me like I'm your fuckin' puppet." You crossed your arms so as to control the urge in yourself to hit him, hands balled up into fists.

"It's the same song and dance with you, hot stuff. If you just gave me a chance, I wouldn't bother you all the time."

"I'm not yours. I'm. Not. Yours." You emphasized each word with a snarl. "You have a fiancé! You have thousands and thousands of girls swooning after you! You have everything you want. You don't need me!" The corner of his lip twitched, his hands rose to his hand, and he turned his head away. "I want to live, Ben. I want to go out and date and have fun with someone. I am not your girl."

"But you can be. Just give me a chance." He said in a low gravelly tone, his eyes sparkling when they looked up to you. You hated the way your heart swelled, you shook your head.

"Ben, you don't want me." You chewed the inside of your cheek. "If you're with me, then you're only with me. And you can't do that." His demeanor shifted and he chuckled, itching his nose.

"Is that what you're saying? This whole time you've been acting like this over monogamy?" *Unbelievable!* You wanted to scream. He held his arms wide open. "Just say the word. I'll leave Countess. Never bed another woman again. Tell me."

"No." You answered firmly, "You're gonna' do it." You lurched toward him and jabbed a finger in his chest. "I'm not going to let you use me as an excuse to ease your guilt over you..." You jabbed his chest again. "...whoring around."

"I don't feel guilty for a thing." He muttered in retort.

"Sure." You waited, waited for him to look at you again-*look at me, you piece of shit*- and when he did you saw that he had forfeited. "That's what I thought. You're not gonna' do it." It had only confirmed your suspicions all along. You didn't mean anything to him. You were just another fuck. He just wanted to get the opportunity to control you, to say that he fucked the second strongest member of Payback. "Leave me alone. Please."

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#reader #the boys #crimson countess #vought international #homelander #oc hero name #payback #the TNT twins #soldier boy #black noir #the seven #soldier boy x reader

[seeds-and-sins]

Four Letter Word - Soulmate AU Part Three

Pairing: Homelander x Reader

Rating: M (BAD WORDS, abusive themes, Homelander-esque expectations)

Description: Homelander and you are soulmates, but you can't stand the way he treats you anymore.

Part Two

Tagged: @midnightprincess18

Hiding things from Homelander was like hiding warm bodies from an infrared. He could see the lie-or just a fragment of one-from hundreds of miles away, smell it on you the moment you entered the building, hear the nervous tremble in your voice that was near undetectable to average human ears. You had become well adjusted to his capabilities. Granted, surprises or any sort of secrets were prohibited. You tried to plan a birthday party for John one time and the response was-well-needless to say, he wasn't pleased. So, you learned to keep absolutely transparent with the Homelander on everything; all of his questions were answered with the full truth, any feeling or hint of uncertainty was made known to him. It was impossible that it not be.

In almost every capacity, Homelander was the perfect lover. He knew exactly what you needed when you needed it. He could detect the faintest skip in your heart rate, the sweat beading on your brow, the scent of arousal. He was always attentive, asking about you, doting on you, complimenting you. In this regard, he never failed to please you. However, as far as never getting a second away from his unrelenting and ravenous nosy self, that was slowly starting to get to you.

The tensions started after he had admitted, on live television, before the entire planet, that you were his soulmate. Even then, when you told him everything was fine, he knew otherwise. He eventually apologized for his transgressions against you that day, but it didn't help the fact that you were now the second most mentioned person on the news. From that point forward, something was off. And it was only getting worse with each passing day.

John was keeping something from you, that was for certain, but the total transparency you offered him was never quite reciprocated. You asked him about it, but he never cared to give you a direct answer or at least an answer that was truthful.

Then, Translucent went missing, John told you.

Then next, Starlight, the newest member of the Seven, was admitting a sexual assault on national television. The Deep was suspect to dozens of other accusations that followed.

Then, A-Train was never around, and anytime you ran into him in the hallway, he was sweating profusely and struggling to catch his breath.

"I'm fine!" A-Train obviously wasn't fine.

And Black Noir never had any drama, but with the way things were going you wondered if you just hadn't found out what was wrong with him yet. Because then you found out that Maeve's alcoholism and depression had been keeping her hauled away in her penthouse suite.

Meanwhile, John, Homelander, your lover, was on the television every other day, ranting and raving about things that made your blood go cold. First, with that plane crash. Then, the news interviews gone wrong.

The icing on the cake was when a video leaked on the web and, soon, the news, depicting the possibility of super humans existing in other countries, with deadly intentions.

Maybe you worked too much. If you had been around more often, you would know about what was going on. Maybe if you had been with him more, he would have spoken to you sooner. Instead, all of the distant looks, empty kisses and promises, it built up in your very being, your soul. Until you couldn't take it any longer. You were hurt.

You stormed to the Vought meeting room, where Homelander stood at the far end of the table. The leftover, broken members of a team you once respected sat around that table: Starlight, Maeve, Noir, A-Train. You didn't care who was there. You didn't care who was listening. You needed to let everything out. From the edge of your sight, you noticed Ashley in the corner. The room was already thick with discomfort, but when you walked in, it intensified.

John's cape flicked as he turned to face you, those gorgeous blue eyes looking at you with confusion, the fragile New York skyline laid out in the scenic view behind him. You didn't think you had the courage to do it until you saw him. He spoke your name, that lackluster smile pulling his lips, he recovered his surprise, greeted you as if he hadn't been avoiding you for nearly a month.

"I'm leaving you." You said, confident, sure, no hint of any lie in that tone. John's smile fell, you saw A-Train's eyes bulge and he tensed up. The whole room knew what he was capable of. At any point in time, he could go off and destroy everything in his path. Maeve's eyes darted back and forth, between John and you, she was preparing herself for the worst.

"Okayyy, maybe we should-" Ashley's awkward attempt at finding a solution was thwarted by a stern hiss from between Homelander's clenched teeth.

"No. You're not." He shot back.

"Yes. I am." Tears brimmed the corners of your eyes, "I care about you. I love you so much..." You spent everything in you not to cry. "But you are a horrible fuckin' person, John. Horrible." Even his shock was evident at that utterance. You could hear his gloves squeak from the force of his fists clenching, all the way at the other side of the room. "I can't do it anymore." You inhaled a deep breath, glancing around the room at the stunned and horrified expressions of Homelander's teammates and then you left.

As soon as you disappeared from the room, he was hunching forward over the table. There was a harsh silence as everyone tried to figure out what would happen next. Would he rip his way through the building? Would he start killing people one by one? Would he go on a rampage in the city? The only one to have broken up with Homelander was Maeve and it appeared to be a mutual decision at the time. And Maeve wasn't his soulmate, the idea of bonded soulmates ever so much as considering a breakup was foreign to the world. They were either together, or never together, that was it. Homelander stood to his full height, he lifted his chin.

"What were we talking about?" He said through clenched teeth, the utterance was rough and husky, strained, everyone physically leaned away in their seats.

"Um-uh-um-I think-"

"Starlight." A-Train shot out, "We were talking about Starlight." Starlight blinked, quietly looking around the table for any sort of protection as Homelander's burning rage redirected itself back to the topic at hand.

After that meeting, Homelander barreled out of the room and went looking for you. He was a fuming mess. No one in the hallway dared to get in his way.

How dare you? He was nothing but good to you. How fuckin' dare you?

He was preparing his entire rant on the way to his penthouse, but when he got there it was empty. He frantically searched with his x-ray vision, then he stomped into the shared room and noticed that all of your clothes were absent from the dresser.

He wasn't freaking out.

No.

He wasn't-

Homelander flew through the windows of his penthouse, glass exploded outward from his exit. He went oil a rage through the city, searching for you. Car alarms were going off, people were staring at the sky as sonic booms bounced around from the speeds he was going. He searched around the tower, then he searched the streets near the tower. You weren't in the subways.

His chest was tight, he couldn't find you anywhere.

You were serious! You left him!

Homelander couldn't let this happen. John couldn't let this happen. He could already feel his control slipping, bit by bit. For so long, he relied on you to keep him together. You made him feel human. You reminded him that he was not just a superhero, or a celebrity... Or a god. You reminded him that he had a soul.

He swiftly flew back to the tower. At this point, everyone was on alert. He was charging through the hallways in long and hard strides. People were ducking into rooms, hiding behind planters, pushing themselves as far up against the walls as they could possibly go. He stopped at the surveillance room. Before entering, he could hear the friendly chirping and the clicking away of computer keys. As soon as he was spotted, the room of employees went drop dead silent.

Homelander didn't care who's day he ruined, he randomly picked someone.

"You. Search everywhere." He commanded lowly, gripping the head of their seat so tight that the chair might break completely. "I'm looking for my soulmate." He watched the screen as the frightened employee rushed to work. The blue glow made the tears brimming in his eyes glisten.

He was almost on that edge. He was almost gone. He didn't know what he would do without you.

"John..." A calm and reassuring voice sounded at his side. He stood tall and his head darted in their direction. It was none other than Madelyn Stillwell. "What's wrong? Talk to me." Homelander felt suffocated, he felt like he couldn't breath.

"She's gone." He choked out, sniffling to keep the snot inside his nose. "She left me." Madelyn appeared sympathetic, John wanted to convulse in disgust when she placed a hand on his shoulder. The only person he wanted to touch him was you. Perhaps Stillwell had a physical hold on him before he found out your existence, but that was long ago. Now, he had a soulmate. He had a soulmate that loved him.

"Why even bother, John?" She reasoned, sending him a sad smile. "Why would you want to be around someone that doesn't want to be around you?" Homelander stepped from her reach and she visibly frowned.

"She does want to be around me. She's just confused."

"Maybe this is for the best."

"This is ridiculous!" He shoved the employee away and began agressively typing at the keys, pulling every traffic camera, security camera, every snap photo in the subways, every credit transactions under your name. He found nothing. He didn't understand. Vought had access to some of the most deeply integrated data bases in the world and he still couldn't find her.

"John, maybe she'll come back. If she misses you as much as you miss her." Homelander fled the room, leaving behind a disoriented employee and an annoyed Stillwell.

That night, Homelander stood at the rooftop of Vought tower. It was where he had met you, it was where you both exchanged your first words. He pressed his hand over that same burning phrase that rested on his chest and he stared into the distance. Expression completely devoid of emotion, not a single tear more.

Homelander had fallen off completely.

...

This was agonizing. You thought you could take it, but it was only getting worse. You felt sick, you could barely move without being in pain. Maybe you were just going through a bout of depression. Maybe it would wear off with time. You didn't know for sure. What you did know was that you couldn't keep driving. So, after a few days on the road, sleeping intermittently in the car, you found a motel in Nevada.

You figured you needed to rest someplace that wasn't the front or back seat of a car. The motel was small. It appeared to only have about ten rooms in total. The old woman at the front desk was kind and she didn't ask questions. Every time you had stopped for gas or went through a drive-thru, someone recognized you.

"You're Homelander's Soulmate." They would state in awe, and then they would proceed to ask you every question they could think of about Homelander. What's his favorite food? Is he a good boyfriend? Do you love him? Are you guys going to get married? Are you going to have kids? And maybe that's why everything hurt so bad. The bond between soulmates went beyond the stars, connected people that were hundreds of miles apart. All that you felt away from Homelander was pain. Horrible, excruciating, blistering pain.

The moment you entered your room, you showered and changed into a comfortable pair of clothes. Then, you laid on the bed and cried. You cried for what must had been hours. This routine proceeded for the next few days. You didn't eat, you barely slept, and you just laid there. It was like death. You felt like you were dying. Your thoughts were filled with Homelander. He didn't want you. He didn't ask for a soulmate. He could have done without.

The words on your wrist, meant nothing anymore. After meeting John, you began looking at them with a fondness, your heart would swell. Now, they haunted you.

Well, you're a fuckin' idiot.

Yeah, you were.

After a week of hell, you heard several knocks at the door. You didn't know who it could possibly be. It took all of the energy you had left to get up and answer it. You looked like how you felt, a mess. You were wearing baggy sweat pants and a tank top, nothing else. You didn't even have the energy to put a bra on. Imagine your surprise when you answered the door and it wasthe old lady that owned the motel. She had a sickeningly sweet smirk on her face, that was damn near uncomfortable, and she had a tray of cookies in her hands. Your favorite cookies. How was that even possible?

"Thought I'd check in on you, deary, made you some cookies." Your eyes narrowed at her, they were already squinted from the bright light blaring in from behind her.

"Um..." This woman went from not giving two shits who you were, to checking in on you. You were suspicious.

Suspicious of what? She was an old lady. Harmless. It's not like Homelander was hiding under that wrinkly face.

"Thank you." You replied in a tired voice. Geez, was that you talking?

"May I come in?" You bit your bottom lip, anxiously glancing behind you.

"Okay." You moved out of the way enough for her to squeeze in. You were certian the room was a mess. You hadn't had the energy to pick up after yourself, but the good news was there was no food anywhere because you weren't eating. "Sorry, I just um-"

"You're going through Soulmate Seperation. It's a brutal thing. I went through it when I was your age." You squinted at her, cocked your head in confusion.

"I'm sorry..." You crossed your arms. "How did you know-I mean-"

"Like I said, my dear, I went through the same thing." She sat down on the edge of the bed, placing the tray beside her. "Come. Sit. Have a cookie." You blinked between the tray and her, then shut the door and followed her requests.

"How did you get through it?" Your words came out as a whisper as you eyed the cookie in hand, a tear slowlt trickled down your cheek.

"Well, I had to go back to them eventually. It hurt too bad. But I realized that we could work things out."

"I mean..." You sniffled, then took a giant bite. "He's perfect. But he doesn't love me."

"I'm sure he's obsessed with you." This cookie was really freaking good right now. And you were salivating for more. You hadn't eaten in days.

"He barely noticed me until I told him I was done with him."

"Remember. He's going through the same thing you are right now."

"You think?"

"Absolutely." You frowned at the thought. You didn't want him to hurt. You didn't want to only enhance the burden that this must be on him.

"Eat some more cookies, honey."

And you did.

...

One second you were eating cookies, the next second you were passed out on the bed. The old woman's body morphed into that of an overweight middle aged man. He picked up the phone and made a call.

Moments later, a team came in to collect your unconscious body and you were being taken away.

When you woke up, you were surrounded by a familiar smell, fresh pine, rain, it nearly made you cry as you gripped the sheets in closed fists.

John.

This was your bed. His bed.

Your eyes fluttered open and you were staring at a piece of paper, and written on that paper was a scribbled message.

Answer the phone.

You squinted at the red lettering, your vision blurring in and out of focus.

Then, as if on a cue, a phone began to vibrate. It was next to the note on the end table. You sat upright, glancing around at what used to be your bedroom, your home. Your face felt wet, tears were sliding down your cheeks. You shoved the covers off of you and reached for the phone. The caller ID was from an unknown number. You gulped, stared uneasily at the golden double doors leading into the bedroom. Everything was just as you had left it. It was as if you had never even left. You felt ana che in your chest at the thoughg.

Why were you even here?

How did you get here?

The vibrating phone drew your attention again. The buzzing stopped. You snatched the phone with lightening speed and stared as the missed call appeared on the screen. Not even a few seconds later the number appeared again and the phone shook in your hand like a storm in a bottle.

You looked around one more time, eyes landing on the message in red ink.

You hit the button and brought the phone to your ear.

There was a sigh on the other end, the person cleared their throat, before speaking your name.

Your eyes darted around.

"Y-Yes."

"For security's sake, I'm not going to inform you who I am, let's just say I am someone higher up on the chain."

"Vought's chain?" He didn't answer you.

"We don't have much time. Homelander is to arrive back from a press conferance in an hour. In that time, I suggest you clean yourself up. We have taken the liberty of returning your personal items to their former places-"

"Who are you?" You fumed, rising from the bed. You stormed over to the dresser and, in fact, found that the drawers were filled with your clothes. "So what, I can't make my own fuckin' decisions, now?"

"Not when those decisions pertain to Homelander."

"My choice has nothing to do with him."

"Respectfully, your choice nearly threatened all of humanity." You shook your head.

"I'm not that important to him." There was a sigh again and you wanted to scream. This man had some audacity, whoever he was.

"You believe whatever you want, but in the meantime you'll make up with Homelander and play nice. Pretty soon you'll be free of this burden..." Your heart jumped into your throat and you felt like your breath had been sucked from you completely. "And at that time, Vought will compensate you for your troubles."

"What do you mean burden?" You inhaled sharply, "Do you-Do you-Are you saying you can remove our soulmate marks? Are you saying that you can seperate soulmates?" He didn't answer you again. Grief hit you like a freight train, it was overwhelming.

"You have less than an hour. If you try to run away again, we will have to take stricter measures. Am I clear?" You didn't answer, still caught in your thoughts over the harsh reality that was just dealt to you. Remove soulmates?! No. No, no, no. You didn't want that. You never wanted that. You couldn't even imagine what...

"Don't-" The line hung up on the other end. You went frantic. You tried to dial the number back. It never rung, it went dead. "No. No. No." You dialed the number again. It never rung. It went dead. "Please." You cried, bringing the back of your hand to your forehead, you stared at the ground in disbelief.

Could they take him from you?

Isn't that what you wanted?

Didn't you want to run away from all this?

No. Not like that.

To be seperated from Homelander, for eternity. To have a piece of your soul ripped from you? You would rather than die. You rather be sucked into an abyss of nothingness before you allowed that to happen.

You put the phone down and rushed to get ready for Homelander's arrival.

...

"If she puts me on the spot like that again, Ashley, I am going to rip her fuckin' head off?!"

"Okay, okay, let's slow down. I'll talk to her okay? There's no need for that." Homelander halted in his furious step and faced Ashley, who came to an uneasy stop on her heels. He pointed a finger in her face and snarled.

"You better, or-" He paused, the anger immediately falling from his expression. His eyebrows furrowed and then he stood a little taller.

"I'm sorry. So sorry. I promise I'll fix this. I-"

"Shut up." Homelander growled lowly, his head twisted and he stared toward the closed bedroom doors. "Get the fuck out." He commanded, Ashley didn't waste time and she booked it out of the pemthouse. John straightened, his eyes glistened and he faced the bedroom doors.

His boots thumped against the marble floor, one after the other. Before he made it to the doors, you pulled the doors back and revealed yourself. He flinched away as if he had been stung, neck craning his head back, his jaw went tight. You weaved your fingers out in front of you and stood in quiet eith your head bowed. You had showered, brushed your teeth, put on perfume, pretty much anything to make yourself look far more presentable than you were.

You didn't know what to say. All you knew was that you wanted to rush into his arms as soon as you saw him. The feeling was suffocating, being so far apart for so long, seeing him and still not being able to touch him.

You wished you hadn't ever left.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was strained and he was intently keeping himself out of arms reach. He looked fine, unmarred by any feeling, aside from irritation. It was as if the pain and suffering that your seperation had caused in you, had done nothing to him. He was invincible physically, mentally, and emotionally. He was Homelander.

You lifted your gaze to his and he rolled his eyes to look away.

"I missed you." You answered in a mere whisper, swallowing down the thickness in your throat. He crossed his arms, his back turned to you for a moment before he twisted and pointed at you.

"You've got some nerve coming back here, thinking I would take you back after what you did." You wiped a few stray tears, held your chin up.

"I had my reasons for leaving."

"Oh yeah? Because I'm what? A horrible fuckin' person?! Do you remember that?!" You blinked at him, chewing on your bottom lip. "I wouldn't forget it." He crossed his arms again, body rigid and straight. He looked so composed. He was more angry than hurt. But perhaps, you hoped he was angry because he was hurt.

"John..." You began, maybe if you had just told him your feelings before none of this would have happened. You couldn't lose him. That wasn't happening. That wasn't an option. You loved him too much. "I thought that-"

"Leave." He sternly shot out, interrupting you, like he always did before, never giving you a chance to speak.

"No." You cried, unable to hold your tamed expression. He closed in on you like a lion to it's prey.

"Yes." He hissed through clenched teeth. "Besides you've already been replaced. I never needed you." You held your hand over your chest, the sharp pains that flickered there incapacitated you. His eyebrows furrowed, one gloved hand came up to the crook of your arm to steady you. His touch burned like a fire, but the excruciating pain you were feeling never subsided. You dropped to the ground, Homelander called your name, but you weren't able to answer. You whimpered, expression clenching with a sob, a fist clutched over your chest. You sniffled and shook your head.

Fuck this.

"This was why I fuckin' left." There was no physically matching the Homelander, but when you shoved his arm away he released you. You stood up and then walked back toward your bedroom.

Punishment be damned. You were going to get the fuck away from him. You couldn't play pretend that everything was okay anymore. Not after that.

The evidence was substantial. Homelander wasn't fazed at all by your absence.

"John, these past few months have been terrible." You got your bags, opened them and laid them out on the bed. "I feel like an accessory rather than a lover to you. You lie to me. You sneak behind my back. Jesus Christ, if I fuckin' did that to you, people would die." He frowned, finally listening to what you were saying. "You don't fuck me anymore. You don't kiss me. We don't watch movies together or stay up all night talking to each other anymore. And I miss you." You were going back and forth between you dresser, shoving clothes and any of your belongings into the suitcases. "I thought I could leave. I figured, 'Well, he doesn't care much about me anyways.'" You stared down at the mess of clothes and sighed. "I was right. You're a terrible fuckin' person."

You might as well just die. You couldn't keep living like this.

"I gave you everything." He snorted in disbelief, held his hands up and gestured around. "I put you on a fuckin' pedestal."

"Sure, John."

"You're crazy!" He chuckled maniacally, "You don't even know what you're talking about. You're the one who hurt me! You left me!"

"Because you wouldn't listen to me!" You spun at him, wanting nothing more than to slap him. "Accusing me at every turn, telling me that I need to watch myself before I go too far. Maybe you're the fuckin' crazy one!"

"Watch yourself!" He growled.

"Do you see?!" You crossed your arms and shook your head vigorously. "And then you replaced me?! With who?" You sobbed, then began to nervously nibble at your fingers. "We might as well not even be soulmates anymore."

Homelanders eye's were closed shut, fists clenched at his sides.

"If you're going to kill me, do it now." You plopped onto the edge of the bed. "Because I'm not sure I could even live without you." And you were staring off with a blank stare when Homelander flooded your vision. He stepped out in front of you, then crouched down to your level. You couldn't believe he would do such a thing. He grabbed your hands in his, thumbs caressing your knuckles.

"I could never." He admitted in a choked breath. It was then you noticed that his own eyes were glistening with tears. "I didn't mean to-" He cut himself off, turned his head away. You cupped his cheek and forced him to gaze up at you.

"Please tell me you're feeling this too." You pulled one of his hands up to your chest, wrapping your arms around it. "I'm hurting, John, I-I-I can't do this anymore." He rested his head on your lap, caressed the fingers of free hand along your thigh.

"I fucked up." He whispered, "I didn't replace you. I could never." Tears finally spilled out of his steely blue eyes and you whimpered at the sight. He did care. "You can't leave me." He added in the silence, "You can't do that to me ever again."

"Then, show me that you love me." You breathed, leaning your forehead into his. "Tell me things and make time for me."

"You should have just told me how you fuckin' felt." He cleared his throat, scowling as he looked away, still resentful. He just didn't get it, did he.

"You wouldn't let me." You released his hand, but it remained there. "I'm not going to do this again. I'm a human being, John. Is that so hard for you to see?" His fingers stretched up toward your chin and he caressed at the flesh there. "You're human too." You whispered, his eyebrows furrowed and he stared deeply at you in confusion. "You are." His head craned away, he licked his lips and then his expression went stern.

"Don't do it again." Was all he said. He stood to his full height, towering over you. "Don't do it again, or I will kill everyone." You heart stuttered. He was dead serious. "If you leave me again, I'll wipe this fuckin' earth clean and you're going to watch me to do it." He paused, then his eyebrows flicked up. "Do you understand?"

You nodded.

"Say it."

"Y-Yes." You replied in a stutter, a tear slid down your cheek and you swiftly wiped it away.

"Let's have dinner." He began walking toward the double doors. "To celebrate your return, we'll go wherever you want."

"Okay." When he disappeared around the corner, you allowed your heart to drop and you inhaled a deep breath of panic.

Was this worth it?

Did you even want to be his soulmate anymore?

#the boys #homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x ofc #vought international #the seven #reader

[seeds-and-sins]

Light My Fire - Part Four

Pairing: Ben "Soldier Boy" x F!Reader

Rating: M (Crude Language, mentions of depression and death)

Description: During incarceration, you come across a special boy. Years later, memories are brought to the forefront that you don't recall ever existing.

Tagged: @tonixe, @chernayawidow, @mrsjenniferwinchester, @deans-spinster-witchs-favorites @ophennie, @virgoelf-blog, @my-obsession-spn

Author's Note: I hope this makes up for the lost time. I know it has been a while. More so the fact that I have a lot going on and definitely not the fact that I had this sitting on my laptop for weeks. Please don't hate me. :)

Part Three

You sipped from a cigarette, smoke flowing like a stream from your nostrils. You blankly stared down at the tray in front of you, flicked the excess ashes into the bowl.

"So, would you say you have seen an improvement in your time here?" Your eyes drifted up to the white coat sitting across from you. She had wrinkles all over, beady eyes, cat eye glasses, freshly manicured nails tapping against her clipboard.

You don't even remember why you were here. In this white room, with nothing around you, nothing but a table and two chairs. You had been here for weeks. After each session, they would move you from this room, into another. That other room was also mostly empty; a single bed, an end table with a lamp, a toilet and a sink. Between this room and that one, there was nothing but a hallway of doors. One door after the other, titanium metal doors.

You didn't know where you were, you didn't know why you were here, all you knew was that you weren't thinking about *him* anymore. You didn't want to die anymore. There was a strained calm that blanketed you and it was because of these pills. You were complacent to your situation. And in your eyes, compacency was a better comfort than a struggle. You had been struggling for so long. You wanted to relax. You could relax here. Everything was taken care of for you, everything was what you needed it to be, to clear your mind.

"Sure." You replied in between another drag, smoke wafted in the woman's face, she didn't react. She was used to you. She had been your lab coat since you first arrived here, after Vogelbaum started losing interest at least.

There was one thing to be noted about this room. One thing that you had never realized before, or one thing that had never been there in your previous visits. Your eyes kept darting toward it, fluttering to and fro, like a bug to a flashing lightbulb.

There.

Tucked in the corner, in the far corner of the stark white room...

A tiny red lego.

Through a sea of fog in your mind.

It wouldn't have been noticeable to the average eye from this distance. Not unless the eye was trained. Your eyes weren't average and they didn't need to be trained to see what you saw.

Your immediate explanation:

"Someone didn't do their job." You said outloud, lining a stare directly on the white coat. Her fingers wrapped around her clipboard and her eyebrows furrowed at you.

"I'm sorry?" You rolled your eyes, stamping the cigarette out in the table as you stood. You circled the table and with bare feet, trotted your way over to the miniature piece. You crouched down, pinched it between your fingers and lifted it high. You inspected it with a deepening curiosity, which only grew further when your white coat began to tremble in her red high heels. You focused on her again, extending the lego to her.

"Ya'know, you don't have kids here, do you?" You already knew the answer, so you were definitely patronizing in your tone. Luckily, you had been working on your anger issues these past few weeks; otherwise, you would have blown a fuse.

Kids?!

What the fuck was Vogelbaum thinking?!

What happened to old heroes? Grown adults that worked their asses off to get recognized for a program like this.

In your opinion, heroes shouldn't even be made anymore. The Hero Program should have ended with Soldier Boy. The Hero Program should have ended with Payback.

"My goodness, I have no idea." She feigned a gasp, holding her chest.

That answer didn't suffice.

You flicked the lego piece so hard that it put a dent in the white wall of the room.

"Okay." You looked directly up at the camera. "You want to play it that way?" The calm was gone. So began the rampage. You stormed for the metal door and easily ripped your way through it. The white coat screamed, she began shouting into the collar of her coat.

"HELP! CODE RED!" You made your way down the hallway, starting with the first metal door you came across. You broke through it like butter.

Empty.

You went for the next door, after a few seconds of walking, it was to your right.

Empty.

"Phoenix! Listen closely! Stop this!" Vogelbaum sounded over the intercom.

"Oh yeah?" You broke through the next door.

Empty.

Metal shards were everywhere. You broke through three more doors before Vogelbaum's pleas intensified, you knew you were getting close.

You broke through another door. It was the last one you broke through.

And there...

A child.

You found a blonde haired, blue eyed boy on the other side. He was hunched in the corner, arms held up defensively, but there was no fear in his eyes.

"Phoenix, Go back to your room. Walk away." You ignored Vogelbaum's evenly voiced demands. He sounded completely devoid of the panic he previously expressed. Now there was just stillness. Now there was just calm. Your eyes narrowed on the boy, you stepped forward.

"Hi," You greeted, not certain of what exactly you were looking at. What exactly was happening here? "What's your name, kid?" He was wearing a red, white, and blue stripped shirt and jeans. To any outsider, he appeared to be a normal kid. And despite his living conditions, they weren't terrible living conditions. But no child should be imprisoned, no child should be experimented on.

"John." He said, eyeing you up and down, he stepped from his corner. "What's your name?"

"I don't remember," You replied honestly. "Haven't gone by my real name in decades." You lifted your chin, inspected the room with a quick glance. "People call me Phoenix."

"Why?"

"Because I became something else." You said with confidence, "like fire."

"You're fire?" He squinted at you, "You don't look like fire." You inhaled a deep breath, that was a fair deducation. You crouched down to his level, despite the distance that he stood from you. You lifted your hand in front of you and snapped your fingers, a small flame appeared at the tip where your thumb and pointer convened. The boy's eyes balloned with wonder.

"I'm a special kind of person, kid..." You smiled, dismissing the flame with a swing of your hand and standing up. "I'm betting you're special too."

As you finished your sentence, armed men, dressed in all black, and wearing masks, flooded the hallways on either side of you. You jolted into the room and spun, standing your ground between the boy and the men that soon filled up the entrance. Their guns were trained on you.

"I didn't want it to be like this, Phoenix." Your eyes flashed red, fists balling up at your sides.

"He's just a kid, Vogelbaum."

"He's not yours to worry about."

"I'm not leaving this room without him."

"Maybe he doesn't want to leave." You paused, then glanced over your shoulder at the boy. He seemed unfazed by the events taking place before him, but his wide blue eyes stared up at you expectantly. You cocked your head at him, the red in your eyes faded.

"Where are your parents?" He blinked at you, like he didn't even know what you were talking about. You spun around and crouched in front of him, grabbing his shoulders with your hands. You conpletely ignored the armed men lined up behind you, guns now trained on you and ready to fire. They wouldn't be able to hurt you anyways. "Listen to me, kid, how did you get here?"

"I've always been here." He replied, your eyebrows furrowed, you rubbed his shoulders, not exactly knowing how to react to that response. What you really wanted to do was go find Vogelbaum and shove his head up his ass. A child?! Really? That was some piece of shit scientist bullshit.

Something overwhelmed you in that moment. Something you hadn't felt in years:

Purpose.

This was the reason you were here. This was the reason you had been willingly waiting in that stupid white room, week after week. You were here for this boy.

"Do you want to come with me?" You asked, lips forming a tight lipped smile. John's eyes scanned every inch of your face, you could tell he was trying to figure out if he could trust you.

"Are you my mommy?" You didn't hesitate in your response.

"No." You said firmly, "And I don't know who your mommy is." You sighed, "But I do know that you don't belong in a goddamned box. You're a person, John. You're a very special person-"

"Phoenix-"

"Shut Up, Vogelbaum!" John's head tilted, attention moving between the intercom, the camera in the corner of the room, and then back to you.

"You want to take me with you?"

"Yeah." You stood up, hands still held on his shoulders. "I'll get you out of here. You can see what the real world is like. I'll take care of you." John rushed into you, his arms wravelled around your waist and a gasp escaped you in surprise. You patted him on the back, the strength in the hug increased as he adjusted his arms, but you didn't mind. He was really strong. Strong to the point that if you didn't have powers too, you'd probably be crushed by now. "Vogelbaum..." You cupped the back of John's head and he withdrew enough to look up at you. "I think it's time for me to get back out into the world again." You smiled brightly, and this time it was the first genuine smile you had given in years. "And John is coming too."

...

2022...

"The unexplained explosion at the Chimp Country Sanctuary is now being attributed to a gas leak. At this time, the bodies of countless chimps that were harbored at the sanctuary are being recovered by authorities. Including the body of the beloved hero, Crimson Countess. As you know, she was a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's fiancé. More information-"

"Those goddamned gas leaks..." You muttered under your breath, standing directly in front of the giant flat screen TV with a consterned expression on your face. "You can never trust'em, ya'know. One put me out a while back and I scarcely think I recovered from it." You were talking to no one in particular. You were in a smaller room with a window that spanned one side, giving a quarter view of a city landscape. There was a leather couch behind you, a coffee table in front of you, a bookshelf in the corner. Behind you, an elderly woman with silver hair, who had her back turned to you, was preparing a cup of coffee.

"I'm sorry, dear, what was-" As the elderly woman turned, she gasped and nearly dropped the steaming cup of coffee in her hand. She startled with a jolt, having to cling to the surface of the counter beside her to keep herself steady. "What the fuck, Phoenix..." The woman grumbled through bright red lips. "What happened to your clothes?!"

"I took them off. Helps me think better. Agnes!" You spun around, the woman rolled her eyes and began a slow walk toward you. "I've decided I'm going to be a vegetarian."

"Phoenix, honey..." The woman took her time bending down to put her coffee on the table. She then stepped up to you and placed her hands on your shoulders. "That is wonderful, but you have an interview in ten minutes and you are completely naked."

"Oh, it's no big deal." You waved Agnes away and stepped past her toward the window. "I'll throw my suit on when I'm good and ready."

You had become erratic over the years. Your train of thought was constantly everywhere, thinking everything, all at once. If you weren't keeping yourself busy somehow, you were thinking about things you didn't want to think about and that just wouldn't do. You were thinking about things that never even happened.

Oh no.

Too much thinking.

"Do you think I should be more upset that Countess is dead?" You sighed, Agnes plopped down on the couch in defeat. She had been working with you for the better half of twelve years and she knew you all too well to know that you weren't going to relent. "Like I'm not going to her memorial or anything, but..." You chewed the inside of youf cheek, "I thought I would be more upset."

"I don't know, dear. I really don't know."

Knock. Knock.

An orange head popped into the room, you recognized that it was Ashley, Vought's newest hero executive.

"Hey-" Who entered the room with a chirpy energy about her. "JESUS CHRIST!" There it was. "Why are you naked?!" Ashley cupped the side of her eye and turned her head away, clutching her clipboard like a vice to her chest.

"What's wrong, Ashley? See something you like?" You purred, leaning your shoulder into the window. "Urgh. You guys are so boring." You snapped your fingers at Agnes expectantly, she reached into the pocket of light pink button up and procurred a small packet of white powder. It was tossed haphazardly across the room, you swiftly swiped it from the air. "Is John coming?"

"Just uh-" Ashley was a stuttering at this point. "Will you please put clothes on?"

"Fine. I will. Answer my question." You scooped some cocaine from the packet and shoved it into your nose. White residue covered your nostrils and your finger as you had messily used the subtance. You sniffed heavily, nostrils flaring. You shoveled a second scoop and repeated the motion.

"No. Homelander has other pressing-"

"Fine." You shook your head, lips flapping comically. "Okay." You stood tall, "Get me my suit. It's show time."

Within minutes, the three of them were walking down a hallway. Persons were speeding back and forth with papers in hand and tasks to complete. You were at the head of the trio, weaving between the workers with ease, walking with purposeful and long strides. Your black cape flowed behind you with each step, boots thumping in time. Agnes was off to your right, struggling to keep pace in her old age and her high heels, and Ashley was already a nervous wreck so she was keeping up just fine but building a sheen of sweat.

"Let's go over the rules again." Ashley breathed heavily, the three of them paused at an elevator. Agnes hunched forward and tries to catch her breath. You paused and then sent Ashley the blankest expression. "Tell me. I need to make sure you know them."

"No telling people to fuck off on live TV."

"Yes. Next." Ashley prompted, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. The three entered, Agnes hobbling behind.

"No mentioning sex on TV."

"Anything sexual, don't mention it." Ashley explained further, nodding to herself. "Next." You crossed your arms and pinched your chin, eyes narrowing in thought.

"Um..." You shook your head, "It has something to do with minorities, doesn't it?"

"Politics." Ashley firmly aided, "No political talk."

"But-"

"No. Please." Ashley was genuinely begging. The last time you were on TV and you made a major messup, it wasn't on Ashley's shoulders. Now, it was on Ashley's shoulders to make sure that this interview went as smoothly as possible. And it only made matters worse in knowing that the person hovering over her was not the normal Vought executive. It was Homelander now.

Stillwell was gone. Stan Edgar was on his way out the door. And Homelander was officially set lose. No one was safe.

The doors dinged open and they walked out, arriving at the floor on Vought tower typically used for the news. The studio was already set up, workers were everywhere. You made a path straight for the empty spot on the couch beside Cameron Coleman: Vought's celebrity news anchor. As soon as you came into view, the usual ruckus of a studio set dissipated into murmurs and quiet. Coleman stood and held his hand out, he was anxious. You had a reputation for being a hastle to keep control of, you didn't blame him. You only made it worse when instead of shaking his hand, you grabbed it, flipped it over and kissed his knuckles.

"Wrong answers only." You winked at him, to your amusement, he became more flustered than he already was. You took your seat, swinging your cape up behind you to keep it from getting caught. Through all the bright lights directed at you, you saw Ashley waving frantically. She pointed at you when you met her gaze and mouthed, *Behave*. You spotted Agnes beside her and stuck your tongue out between two fingers, the obscene gesture made the woman turn red and she turned away.

"Are we ready?" Coleman asked as he buttoned his suit jacket and sat down. Someone behind the camera held up a thumb and then a count down started. Loud music blared in the background, Coleman's face grew stern and he stared at the camera.

"Is our government doing what it needs to protect us from this super-villain threat? Can we trust our leaders to take the proper stand and protect our nation? Here, I invite a former member of Payback and current hero against the super-villain threat overseas, Phoenix, how are you today?"

Everything was going well...

At first.

Ever since heroes were allowed into combat, publicly, Vought had put you in the Middle East. You had been taking down terrorists in caves and capturing enemy territory for almost an entire year before Vought brought you back. Vought didn't tell you why they brought you back, but you could assume it was because of your conduct. You weren't being very merciful over there. Targets that were supposed to be detained, were killed.

And how were you supposed to know the difference? They all acted the same anyways.

The truth was, you had gone way off the rails over there. Bringing you back was Vought's way of trying to maintain the peace. At this point in time, the government liked having heroes overseas. They wouldn't like it much longer if you continued being a problem.

So now, in the months following your return to America, you had become something of a spokesperson. You were labeled an American hero, a soldier, another defense against those 'vile super-villains'-as John so insisted they be called.

But really. Truly. You weren't okay. You hadn't been okay for a long time. Something was off. In your head. Your ventures in the Middle East had only made it worse.

You answered all the questions with conviction and a charming smile. Ashley even gave you the thumbs up, because everything was going great.

Until it wasn't...

"Phoenix, I'd like to touch on one more subject before you leave us today and I'm sure it will be a tough one..." Oh boy, you thought, another curve ball that you hadn't prepared for perhaps? "Crimson Countess..." Dread filled you, Coleman shifted in his seat and sent you a sad smile. You knew it was all an act and you prepped yourself to do the same. "In light of her death, is there anything you'd like to say? Any fond memories you have that you'd like to share?"

"Uh..." You shrugged, feeling a little panicked. You still didn't know how you felt about any of it because, frankly, you felt nothing for her. "Not really. Her and I weren't very close." Coleman's eyebrows furrow, that answer didn't seem to satisfy him.

"Really? But didn't you serve alongside her for four years?" You saw in the corner screen, facing the set, the images they were broadcasting. They were of the past. Crimson and you were clinging to eachother in one photo, laughing about a joke you don't recall. Another photo of the both of you, fighting crime together. Another photo of you standing side by side at a charity gala, dressed to impress, smiling brightly. "Surely, you both used to be great friends. What happened?" You squinted, head cocking to the side, the photos were removed from the screen and the small tv went black. Then it was the mirror image of Coleman and you, sitting on the red leather couch. You stared at yourself, at the consternation in the mirror image. "After Soldier Boy passed, I imagine you both would have gotten closer? Am I wrong? Phoenix?" Coleman insisted, your head began to throb.

Soldier Boy?

What did he have anything to do with this?

You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head.

"Soldier Boy?" You were trying to catch yourself, but miserably failing. Your eyes shot up to Coleman and he raised a brow at you.

"Phoenix, are you okay? Talk to me." He was just prodding, as any interviewer would, given the circumstances. You gulped, then looked to Ashley who waved aggressively at you to continue talking.

But before you could speak, a rush of memories overcame you. You felt like your brain was being trampled on by a herd of buffallo.

Images of what you knew...

Fading.

The nuclear power plant in Ohio...

Soldier Boy laying on the ground...

It was almost like...

"Please try not to cause trouble out there." That charming smirk encompassed his face and you felt warm at just the sight of it. You were surprised to say that you were glad he stopped by. It wasn't like anyone else on the team had bothered.

"Honey, trouble is my middle name." You laughed at him, but your giggle was cut short with a harsh cough that sent you hunching forward. You felt his hand at your back and when you looked up you saw the deep scowl on his expression.

"Get Vogelbaum in here again. I don't like this."

"It's fine. I'll be okay. When you get back from Nicaragua, I'll be good as new." You attempted a reassuring smile, but it failed you. You looked more uncomfortable and the wince from the sharp inhale in your lunge did not go unnoticed.

"You better be." Soldier Boy cupped under your chin and you both stared at eachother before he withdrew. "I'll be back before you know it, hot stuff." He winked at you before turning away and heading down the hall.

...

It never happened.

The nuclear power plant never happened, but how could that be?! You have memories of escorting people away from danger, putting out fires, and Soldier Boy? You recall him telling you to...

"Go save the civilians. I'll take care of this."

You could hear his voice echo in your head, those exact words.

Before he died.

Before you found him laying in a mess of concrete and he was in your arms and you were crying because even if he was an asshole a part of you always loved him.

And then nothing...

"Phoenix?" Coleman called, snapping you from your trance like state once more. You blinked at him, then you gulped. Your throat had gone dry.

"I don't know." You answered grimly, "Actually, I should be going." You stood up and slowly walked off the stage. The crowd of crew members surrounding the set parted for you and watched in confusion as you walked away. Ashley met your side with furious steps.

"What happened?!" She was panicking. Everything was going good. What happened?! "You need to go back up there!" You had gotten as far as the elevator when Agnes was jogging up behind the both of you.

"Phoenix, honey, what's wrong?" You stared blankly at the seam of the elevator doors.

"Soldier Boy..." Your eyes rose to Ashley and they furrowed at her. "Where is his grave site again?"

"Washington D.C., I think, next to the Lincoln Memorial." Ashley answered in a weak whisper, she was looking at you in horror. "Why?"

Ding!

The elevator doors slid open and you entered them. Neither Agnes or Ashley followed, they gazed at you with questioning looks and you didn't give them any answers.

The doors slid shut behind you.

You were gone.

Return to Master list

#soldier boy x reader #reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy #the boys #payback #oc hero name #crimson countess #vought international #tnt twins #black noir #homelander #the seven

[seeds-and-sins]

Light My Fire - Part Three

Pairing: Ben "Soldier Boy" x F!Reader

Rating: M (Crude Language, Graphic depictions of violence, Mentions of depression and death)

Description: Soldier Boy is dead. And his absence affects you more than you expected.

Tagged: @tonixe, @chernayawidow, @mrsjenniferwinchester, @deans-spinster-witchs-favorites

Part Two

Author's Note: Apologies for the long wait. I have had a lot going on, but I am always ready to dig back into my writings. I have a few other stories I am in the process of catching up on as well.

"What?" You could feel yourself on the edge of your sickness, having recovered almost fully to excellent health. You waited then, and waited, and waited, and you waited because you found yourself excited to show Soldier Boy that you had gotten better. The last time you were together, for some reason, it made you wish he had never left. You still found him infuriating, but the reality of the situation was that you tended to enjoy the odd ball conversations and quips that teeter tottered between you two, despite that. "What do you mean?"

They chose Countess to give you the bad news. You didn't know why. You hated that they chose her. Although, there was no one that could inform you of this tragedy that was free from your wrath.

"He-" She had tears in her eyes, but they didn't feel very genuine, did they? "He didn't make it."

"You're lying!" You jumped up from your seat in the meeting room, nearly everyone flinched aside from Stan Edgar. Edgar remained suspiciously calm at his seat at the head of the table. "You're lying to me!"

"Phoenix, he's gone. I watched it with my own two eyes." The Legend was standing at the corner of the room, you looked to him for an explanation, even knowing that he never would have witnessed what your fellow team members had. He shrugged at you, the pity filled and morose expression on his face made you heat up with rage.

"I don't believe you. I want to know everything. What happened? It's impossible!"

"Phoenix. Honey." The Legend was unable to stop you as you began to pace, eyeing up the others like they were fresh meat and all of them were about to be thrown in the fire.

"He saved us. He saved all of us." Mindstorm ducked his head after speaking those words and it was in that moment you knew something was wrong because the air thickened with a harsh tension. Mindstorm was never a good liar.

"Then where's the body? None of you got the body?!"

"How could we? W-We would have died." Gunpowder cried out, his bottom lip wobbling, but he too couldn't meet your eyes.

"Then I will." Your white cape swung out behind you as you booked it for the doors. It would take you a couple hours to get to Nicaragua, but you could do it, you would do it for Soldier Boy.

"One moment, Phoenix..." Stan Edgar's calm voice penetrated you from afar, you didn't face him. "Think rationally. If Soldier Boy did not survive that minor nuclear blast, then neither would you survive it's remnants." You closed your eyes, a wetness rippling down your cheeks that turned into steam off your lashes. Your fists clenched at your sides and you bit down on the inside of your cheek. "You are not the only person mourning a great loss, the world is mourning for a fallen hero, and they need the remaining members of Payback to stick together and rise up."

"How can we rise up? We don't have a leader." You glared back at him, unable to hide the red burning in your irises.

"We don't need him, we just need each other." Even more proof that they were lying, Crimson so swift to give up on Soldier Boy, so swift to forget his importance.

"I should have gone, I should have been there. Maybe I would have done a better fuckin' job than you shit heads."

"Hey!" Tessa protested, you were at the other end of the table, glaring back at Stan Edgar.

"Perhaps..." His next words would haunt you for ages to come. "But you weren't."

...

1994...

You stood before a lengthy window that spanned the entirety of one side of your home. The view of a New York skyline, metal structures reaching toward a crystal blue sky. The sun bled through, your shadow cast against a pristine marble white floor. You were wearing your hero suit, which had changed over the years. It was mostly black, with red accents that followed the curves of your body. Your former suit was all white, but Vought claimed you had been wearing that suit for too long. You needed to rebrand. This new suit still had a cape, it was slanted off one shoulder and it was cut shorter than your last, ending at your lower back. The boots were knee high, with latches of vibrant red.

They started having meetings about your name too. The board hadn't come to a consensus. They wanted to keep you, relocate you after Payback finally disbanded. The issue was no one could ever get ahold of you. The Legend called nonstop, he could barely get your attention at scheduled events. You were never in your penthouse, never available for a quick conversation. You knew what they wanted, but for nearly an entire year you had been avoiding it. In fact, you had been putting all of your energy into a separate project. Outside the knowledge of twisted Vought executives and nosy journalists.

Where was Phoenix? They all asked.

What is the former Payback hero up to? Newspapers read.

The other members of Vought became bought out poster children for big corporations. Vought occasionally had them doing shows and special appearances. Crimson Countess became the face for a nationwide insurance company, the TNT twins had rights to their very own movie franchise, Mindstorm was an author of a New York Times bestseller, Noir, despite his impairment, continued doing signings and attending Vought funded events, and Gunpowder's fame dissipated into nothing as he grew older. There was the occasional memorial for Swatto. And then, of course, the annual Soldier Boy celebration of life. They even put up a poorly crafted statue in his honor, directly in front of the ever-rising Vought tower.

Phoenix knew that this was the only chance she had at rounding up all of Payback's former members. It was the only time of the year that all of them weren't scattered about at different parts of the country. Phoenix-You, were determined to gain their audience. You were more than prepared for it.

So, you called them to your penthouse. Unlike them, Vought didn't immediately kick you out from the tower's many different living accomodations. Vogelbaum and the Legend spoke on your behalf numerous times about your quality and significance as a hero. The others had seemingly died down in popularity, but for decades you could pride yourself in keeping an endless following. You used these facts to your advantage.

Your penthouse was usually filled to the brim with vintage furniture, little war trinkets from the old days sat on black wooden shelves. Today, you ensured it was mostly empty, or out of the way. You had a solid floor plan, no walls aside from the ones that bordered the penthouse. The walls were white, the kind of jarring white that matched the floors. Expensive paintings and photos of a distant past litered your walls, colorful decorations hung from the ceilings. The kitchen was to the far left, it was rounded with a bar counter and an island in the center, fully stocked. Your flat screen television was at the far opposite wall, accented by nothing. The couches, the mahogany coffee table, the end tables, your bed, everything was pushed up against that same wall. It made the entire center of the home barren. Not that it didn't already look somewhat empty, but there was certainly something off about the sight.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your head tilted, ear turned toward the door that was far out behind you.

"Come in." You prompted in a sickeningly sweet tone. The door creaked open, in entered Crimson Countess, a smile plastered on her lips.

"Ah, Countess." You faced her, approaching with sure strides. You enveloped her in a strong hug, which she lightly returned. You could see the discomfort on her face, despite the smile she wore to hide any suspicions from you. You held her at arm's length. "Let me get a good look at you." You smirked, giving her a once over. "You look just as good as I suspected." The offhanded insult caused her to frown for a moment before she returned to her appeasing demeanor.

"Phoenix, you look..." Countess looked you over from head to toe, cocking her head and blinking away the initial confusion. "Not a year older."

"Trust me, Countess. It's a curse more than anything." Your gritted teeth betrayed your curved lips and bright tone. "Please. Let me get you something to drink." You quickly moved from her toward the bar, while she slowly twisted around and took in the appearance of your penthouse.

"What's up with the furniture?" She rose her voice a little to reach you, words echoing off the high ceiling.

"I'm making a few changes." You went behind the bar and began making her a drink. You were mixing and stirring, grabbing things from the fridge, working with a startling fluidity. "What's your poison?" She followed up to the bar counter, tentatively placing herself at it's edge.

"I'll take whatever you got."

"Sure." You both made eye contact, and you knew that Countess' uneasiness was well-founded then. "Something troubling you?"

"Well, uh-" She snorted nervously, "What have you been up to?"

"Not much, really. The usual."

"Hmm." You shook the cocktail you were making, procured two tall glasses from below with the other hand. You placed them down in front of her and then poured, a stern glare now adorning your face.

"You nervous?"

"No. Of course not. Just uh-" She shrugged, "You haven't talked to us in years."

"Sure." You immediately grinned, another knock at the door followed.

"Come on in." Black Noir and Mindstorm were the next to enter. "Wow, we got a buddy system going now."

"Phoenix, my dear, so good to see you." Mindstorm greeted, Black Noir was his usual quiet, observing behind the protection of his mask.

"Ah, Dan, how ya' doing?" You gestured Mindstorm to come closer and embraced him in a hug. He sent you a raised brow before you attempted the same to Noir, who stiffly stood there in waiting. "I expect the twins will be late as usual. I don't mind waiting. Want something to drink, Dan?"

"Sure." His eyebrows were furrowed and he was eyeing you in suspicion. "I'll take a glass of scotch on the rocks."

"Of course." You rounded the counter to continue serving your guests.

"Is there a reason you invited us here?"

"Oh come on, a girl can't want for a family reunion?" Gunpowder was invited, but you knew he wouldn't show. Moments later the twins came in, with their false smiles and their flaunty hero personas. The general vibe though was that something was off, and they were perfectly right in thinking that, you didn't invite them for nothing. But even after everybody got their drinks and things started to get comfortable, you were waiting on one more guest. He showed up excruciatingly late, entered your home with a placid expression. You knew his tardiness was purposeful, considering that the entire fiftieth floor of Vought tower was his hunting ground.

"Stan Edgar." Your former team had remained congregated around the bar, but there was an immediate shift in their energy the moment they saw Edgar. You hovered at the opening in the bar counter, drink still in hand as you eyed the man with a steely glare.

"Phoenix," He greeted, eyes lifting and examining every other hero that stood around you. "You invited your former teammates as well, I see."

"We, uh..." Countess gulped, standing straighter, "We didn't know she had invited you too, Mister Edgar." Everyone looked at Phoenix, your eyes were flashing red and your glass was turned orange from the heat of your hand. You inhaled a deep breath and placed it down on the counter.

"The annual celebration of life is tomorrow. It's the only chance I had to get all of you losers together." You stepped into the open space where Edgar now stood. You stopped directly in front of him, you stared into his eyes. He didn't flinch, his face didn't wrinkle in fear, he didn't beg. He knew exactly why you called him here.

"Where have you been Phoenix?" He asked, a casual way about him, you swore that even the edge of his lips curled into a half smirk. He crowned his fingers in front of him. You had seen him here and there around the tower, he had aged significantly since he was in charge of the teams affairs. Now, he was promoted, an executive, taking charge on Vought's boards and in all of the slimy crevices where Vought hid their darkest secrets. He wore a business suit now in contrast to the laid back, expensive garbs you recall him wearing when you first met him. He looked as corrupted as his soul, a real life devil. "For months, the top floor has been trying to get in touch with you."

"Vacation." You stalked away from him toward the window, your boots making deafening thumps in the stark silence that followed.

"Have you forgotten that it's been my word that has kept you here all this time?" You gritted your teeth and tilted your head away from the view, eyes squeezing shut.

"Do you think I want to be here?" The venom was practically dripping from your teeth with every word, back still turned.

"Hmm," Edgar pretended to sound surprised. "You've given us no reason to think you don't." You didn't reply and your quiet forced Edgar to continue with a sigh. "The remaining members of Payback have been moved around, they have adjusted nicely to their new roles, but you remain, why do you think that is?"

"Vought is afraid of me. They're afraid of what I can do. Someone like me doesn't just get to walk away."

"Arrangements can be made." Edgar offered and then the realization of what he was doing came to you in a rush. You spun to face him, unable to contain your growl. The others were a distance away from you and everyone, aside from Noir, flinched. Even Edgar had a fear in his eyes that made you very pleased.

"You want to know where I've been, Mister Edgar?" Your demeanor shifted again, you clasped your hands behind your back, under your cape and chewed the inside of your cheek. "I've been thinking about all those years ago..." Your eyes met his. "When my team told me that he was dead."

"I know." Edgar replied firmly, he shrugged. "And what for? Why trudge up the past?"

"Because..." You glanced at Payback, at their confusion and fear. "They were lying. YOU..." You pointed at him, your eyes flashed. "Lied to me."

"Phoenix..." Countess started, "We never lied to you." Her words were practically a whisper, but it was so deathly quiet that everyone could hear what she said.

"Ya'know..." You closed your eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath. "I have been alive for sixty-four years and I have seen some fucked up shit, but this? This might just be the worst."

"What are you talking about?" Tessa, one of the twins, spat, but her body language betrayed her. She was afraid too. They all were.

"I was foolish enough to think it was a coincidence that I got sick. Right before one our first missions in a combat setting too." You faced Payback. "And then I thought some more..." You tapped your temple, "It was a really big coincidence that Soldier Boy ended up dead on that very same mission, the one that I wasn't there for." You cocked your head from side to side. "Me. The second strongest member on the fucking team."

"Phoenix-" Dan tried to interrupt, you continued.

"And then, I thought some more..." You paced. "Noir approached me a few weeks before that mission, before I was sick, and he asked me how I felt about Soldier Boy. Isn't. That. Weird?"

"You're overthinking this, Phoenix." Edgar lifted his chin, "Clearly, Soldier Boy's death has taken it's toll on you. Perhaps some therapy. We take the mental health of our heroes very seriously."

"Clearly..." You began fierce, your toes gently lifted from the ground, but you lowered yourself again. "I'm not as invincible as I thought. It took a lot of digging, but I figured it out."

"Okay, this has gotten out of hand!" Crimson had the bravery to step forward.

"Carbon Monoxide!" The room was drop dead again. You had caught them at their own idiotic game. "You fuckers were pumping it into my room. That's why no one ever visited me. And that's why when Vogelbaum came around he was always wearing a fuckin' mask."

"Phoenix, I think you should calm down." Edgar calmly suggested, you flared.

"Calm down?!" Your fists clenched, you had enough of this. "Soldier Boy has been somewhere in fuckin' Russia this whole time and you're telling me to calm down?!"

"We did what we had to do! He was out of control!" Dan explained, you could see he was shaking.

"He was the only person who understood how I felt and you fuckers took him away."

"He didn't care about you!" Countess shouted, "He didn't care about any of us!"

"He cared about me. He did."

"So, what's your plan then, Phoenix? What are we doing here? You found out what happened, what now?" Your eyes turned red for real this time, flames engulfed your fingers and Edgar was casually stepping back as if it was a day like any other.

"I'm going to kill you. All of you."

The first hit wasn't made by you. Crimson Countess threw a beam and before you could brace yourself you were being throw back into the heap of furniture at the far corner of your penthouse. It splintered and creaked, the flames from your body catching on fabric. You flew to the high ceiling and it crackled beneath your feet as you pushed off and darted down to her. Noir pounced on you after you tackled Countess, you easily threw him off and he went sliding into the corner. You could make out Mindstorm trying to get a good read on you and you knew you needed to focus on taking him out first, otherwise he'd be the one to put you out in seconds. Your fist put a hole through the marble floor when Countess rolled away from your punch. Noir kicked you in the head, you barely flinched at the blow despite the crack that sounded. Noir and Countess were more hands on, while Tessa and Tommy stayed away near Edgar, hands clasped between them as they waited for a good shot.

Noir got you into a neck lock, you were swinging about. When you flew up off the ground, Countess grabbed your ankle and yanked you down with what strength she did have. None of them could pin you for long though, you kicked her in the face and she was sent flying through the counter top of your kitchen. You spun rapidly to get Noir off your back, even bursting your entire body into flames, but he held on tight.

"This isn't going to resolve things, Phoenix." Edgar called from the seemingly safe spot that he had curled into. You removed a hand from the arm bar that Noir had around your neck and you threw a ball of fire to Stan, he dodged with a wide eyed and shocked expression, practically throwing himself to the floor to get away.

You managed to toss Noir off again, he smashed into the window and fell out, finding a grip at the edge. The high winds burst through, shattered glass spread out across the floor, your cape fluttered behind you and you faced the Twins, Dan, and a recovered Countess. Your chest heaved and smoke exited your lunges with every breath, you glared evilly at your foes.

"Don't make us do this!" Countess warned, your eyes turned red and flames rose up your arms.

"I'm not making you do anything..." You husked out, "You can just sit there." As you were whirling up a heavy wave of flames, the twins and Countess cast their beams at you. Noir jumped you from behind and held you in place. The entire penthouse went up in a massive explosion, smoke flowed from the open window, everything was destroyed, the marble floor filled with dents, cracks, and smudges of black. As the smoke dissipated, the dust cleared, you were rising slowly up from the floor. Noir was laid out flat, unconscious perhaps, you glanced at him to be sure. Countess was squatting, hands still branched out, blood dribbling from one nostril. The twins were propped back against the wall and Dan was hunched forward, arms shielding his head. Edgar was laid down in the corner, legs spread. He eyed you, scurried himself deeper into the wall. You scowled, with rushed strides you made way for him, about to fill your fists with his blood. Just as you were nearly there...

Mindstorm jumped out in front of you, your eyes caught his, the world disappeared around you.

You fell into the abyss.

...

"Phoenix..." His eyes raked over you like he was hungry, and not the kind of hungry where your stomach growls. "Not what I expected." You accepted his offered hand, you gave it a firm squeeze that even made his eyebrows lift. "Vogelbaum told me about you, a real spitfire."

"Soldier Boy. Vogelbaum told me about you too."

"Good things I hope?" Your hands returned and you both walked side by side through the sea of rich socialites that crowded the room. Light jazz music played in the background, you both were wearing your hero suits, visually putting you apart from the dozens of others dressed in expensive suits and sparkling dresses.

"As good as our profession would allow."

"Spoken like a pro."

"Well, I have been doing this for a while after all." He stopped and cocked his head at you, you turned to face him and smiled at the confusion written all over his face.

"Wait, what?"

"I got my first hero gig in the 60's. You're not the only one that's been around." He chuckled in disbelief, shaking his head.

"That's impossible. That would mean that you're-well-" He squinted at you. "How old are you?" You laughed, then twisted yourself and slowly began walking away.

"It's not gentlemanly to ask a lady her age." He followed after you like a lost puppy, immediately taking the space at your side and keeping a slow traipse with you.

"How come I've never heard about you before?" Soldier Boy was fascinated, wide eyed, intrigued beyond his own belief.

"Before Vought came up with this..." You stopped walking with a shrug. "Team up idea, I was operating on the West Coast."

"So, California?"

"Sometimes." He blinked at you, reeled back.

"Sometimes?" He questioned, you rolled your eyes but you still had that coy smile on your face.

"Vought sends me all over. If I fly fast it takes me about three hours to go cross country. I go where they need me, I guess." This time, he looked you over again with an entirely different energy about him. He nodded his head with approval and lifted his chin.

"Damn, not even Lady Liberty could fly that fast."

"Lady Liberty can't do half of what I can, hun." You were bragging, flirting, laying on all the charm. He was a hot piece, you weren't going to deny yourself a little taste.

"That would make you the most powerful woman on the planet."

"Most powerful person." You corrected slyly, he bit his bottom lip, the action made your toes curl in your boots.

"Oh, I'm sure we could put that to the test if you'd like." The both of you held a deep stare and just as you were about to reply, red manicured fingers were curling around Soldier Boy's bicep, interrupting the moment.

"Phoenix, I see you've met Soldier Boy." Soldier Boy didn't look away when you did, staring intensely at you as you directed your attention to a beaming Crimson Countess.

"Countess, it's good to see you. You look amazing!" You reached for her and the both of you embraced in a hug. Your stomach immediately dropped when you saw how clingy she was being with Soldier Boy and how he was unflinchingly accepting it. You trained your disappointment not to show, instead keeping a sweet rapport with someone you considered a good friend.

"Thank you! You too." You both fell into easy conversation back and forth.

In the distance, past waves of people, conversing, drinking, swaying to the music, you watched. Your heart was pounding in your chest, sweat beading on your brow. There was a blurry haze that clouded your vision, but your focus was solely on the scene playing out leagues ahead of you. You could hear every word, understand every cue. Meanwhile, your presence was absent to all others around you. No one saw you: the obvious dark aftermath of the Phoenix they knew. Lonely. Completely devoid of life. With an uncontrollable desire to die. Numerous people had passed through your being as if you were a ghost, a mere image, a shell of your former self. This was a dream. That was the only explanation you had. A cruel, cruel dream.

"Ben." You whispered to yourself, watching your separate visage deflate as Crimson told you about Soldier Boy and her being an item. The former Phoenix forced a smile, collected herself and patted Crimson on the shoulder in congratulations.

"You guys make a cute couple."

"Aww, thank you, you're too sweet." She stepped toward you and wrapped her arm through yours. "I'm so excited for us to work together. The Legend is already talking about getting a photoshoot with you, me, and Tessa." Soldier Boy defensively crossed his arms, his demeanor taking a major shift.

"If you ask me, women don't belong in the hero world." Countess scowled, you were slowly starting to notice the animosity between them.

"Are you seriously going to start this again?"

"Just saying..." Soldier Boy looked between you both. "Women are really only good for cooking, cleaning, taking care of the children..." He tilted his head and his shoulder twitched. "Sex." He added with a finishing smirk and a wink in your direction. Countess went to make some nasty comment in response, but Phoenix was already speaking up.

"That's the old ways talking. This is the new world. Female heroes are the future."

"Keep telling yourself that, hot stuff."

The bantering continued, entering into a more political discussion that you recall being very one-sided; With Soldier Boy making outrageous claims and you immediately disputing them with facts. Countess was silently standing there after that. Upon her first entering the space that Soldier Boy and you shared, you had been the third wheel. After a few minutes of talking, it became very evident that the third wheel had become her.

You stepped closer to the scene, the distant memory, the dream, whatever this was. You looked so much brighter then. You were practically glowing with life and happiness. Things seemed simpler. You had a job, you did your job, you were happy with your job. You felt supported and stronger than you had ever been. Those times, you missed desperately, to only feel as you had in your younger self. As you were taking tentative steps toward the past, another figure invaded your path with swift and confident strides. You immediately recognized the person as a young Stan Edgar.

"No." You spat, the sight of him unleashed a venomous reaction you hadn't anticipated in yourself. "NO!" You shouted, following after the man. You realized then that all of your powers were gone. You couldn't fly or shoot flames from your hands or, in this case, beat Stan Edgar to a pulp. "YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" He burst the invisible bubble forming around Soldier Boy and you, reminding both of you that you weren't alone or in a private setting.

"Hope you all don't mind my interruption."

"YOU DO! HEY!" You waved your hands around, swatted them at Soldier Boy. They ran through his image as if he was fog. You didn't exist to them.

"Stan. Not at all." Soldier Boy greeted, Edgar sent him a half nod and then continued.

"We were hoping to gather up Payback for a team photo."

"Of course, that would be so nice." Countess answered for the three of you. She grabbed onto Soldier Boy's arm.

"Perfect. Follow me."

"Ben!" You were backpedaling directly in front of Ben with every step he took, your former self and Countess at either side of him. "PLEASE! YOU CAN'T TRUST THEM! You can't trust-" You inhaled a sharp breath, tears ran down your cheeks. "BEN!" You stopped walking and the images ran through you, you dropped to your knees and your palms shot up to cover your face. Your sobs were muted, wracking your body with harsh twitches and shakes. The world vanished around you, and another image took it's place. You sniffled, wiping your tears away as you lowered your hands to get a better look at your new surroundings.

It was your old apartment. From way back in the day. Your first home inside a growing Vought tower. They didn't even have fifty or so floors at the time, but the board was determined to go taller than the Empire State Building. Everything was as you remembered it; 70's styled furniture, peach colored wallpaper, the eyesore of a tv in your living room, the fluffy yet itchy carpeting. You could hear muffled conversation, only growing louder as you watched your older self enter the home. You stood to your feet, eyes narrowed on the man following you in.

You remember him, you thought, he was a Vought executive. Someone with a big name. But you didn't care about any of that as much as you cared about getting a quick release. It was always easier to date or sleep around within company borders, you didn't have to worry about someone spreading rumors to the paparazzi or the news. They had to look out for their necks as much as they had to look out for yours. And Vought was very, very particular about news that traveled and where it traveled from.

"Wow, they set you heroes up big time." He commented, adjusting his tie. He was of average looks; slicked back hair, a nice smile, a freshly shaven face.

"You think this is nice? Wait until you see my mini-bar." You bit your bottom lip, closing the door behind him and giving him a lusty once over.

"Oh yeah?" He snorted nervously.

"It's in my room..." You closed in on him, grabbing him by the tie and yanking, he had no choice but to come forward. "If you want?"

"If I want?" He repeated back, "Like I would ever say 'no' to you." His hands fell to your hips, you pulled him closer till your lips were touching. You were moving fluidly together, lips parting over one another, tongues mingling together, swapping spit, a little awkward on his part, but enough to draw a low moan from you. As things were getting heated-

CRASH!

The door to your penthouse broke entirely off the hinges, falling flat onto the floor, splinters of wood exploding everywhere. Soldier Boy stepped over the door, fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight. The Vought exec was clinging to you for safety, putting your body between him and the door. You blinked at Soldier Boy in shock, before anger fell over you like a blanket.

"What the fuck?!"

"Who's this prick?" Soldier Boy hissed, gesturing at the man curled up behind you and using you as a shield.

"That's none of your fuckin' business! What do you think you're doing?!" You stepped forward, the man kept directly behind you, fingers clenched at your shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Ben shot back, grimacing when he followed your movements and approached as well.

"I'm trying to get laid, which is none of your business! Now get the FUCK out." Your eyes flashed red, the man winced and darted away from your body, he held at his hands. His palms were sizzling from the immense heat that had risen in you. He screeched and dropped to the floor. Neither Ben or you reacted, instead keeping your rage.

"Considering you turn me down at every turn, I'm thinking it is my business."

"YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!" You yelled in his face, at the top of your lunges, getting an inch too close.

"IT'S AN OPEN RELATIONSHIP!" He yelled back, Ben and you both knew that was a lie.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" You pointed at the door, shoving his shoulder, he only budged a little.

"HELP!" The man was rolling around on the floor, wiggling his burnt hands about.

"Look what you did!" You pointed at the poor guy, literal steam was coming off your skin you were so angry.

"What I did?! That was your fault!"

"Oh. There you go again! Always blaming it on me!" You stormed away toward your kitchen. "Can't take any accountability, can you? Ya' fuckin' asshole."

"You should take accountability for being a whore." He stomped after you, watching as you pulled a handle of cognac from beneath the countertop.

"Because I won't fuck you. Real classy!" You retrieved two glasses, pouring the orangey liquid into each glass.

You snatched up your chosen glass and sprawled forward into the counter, downing the glass in one go. Soldier Boy grabbed his glass, he eyed you with a sour expression, then sipped. Holding the empty glass up to your forehead, you sighed.

"We should probably do something about this guy."

"You don't want to know what I would do to him." Soldier Boy sassed, downing his own glass he limply dropped it back onto the counter.

"Fuck you." You grabbed the phone on the wall and made a call.

As you were intently following the movements of the past, the visage changed once more. You were surrounded by police cars, news trucks, standing in front of a bank. The alarms were going off, people were screaming inside as gunshots sounded. You were twisting around, trying to find out where you were. Instead, you spotted Soldier Boy conversing with the police chief. As he stepped toward you, a loud whistling split the sky, it went silent and everyone looked up. Soldier Boy kept walking, your former self was appearing from the clouds above, dropping down to the ground with a startling swiftness. He halted and you landed directly beside him, boots meeting the pavement with a thud.

"I fuckin' hate you." You growled, crossing your arms. Soldier Boy ignored you completely, squinting at the entrance to the bank.

"Seven hostages, three perps. We can go straight in, or we can take'em by surprise."

"I'm not really in the mood to prolong this, so let's just get it over with." You both calmly walked side by side up to the bank, Soldier Boy kept his shield posed at his side and a steely seriousness on his face. You trailed after them, desperate for another memory, for another feeling. Upon entering, Soldier Boy and Phoenix were both immediately bombarded with threats. Heavy duffle bags were stacked up over by the check-in desk, each perp had a handful of hostages. One of them had their gun held to the head of a woman, a bank teller, her eyes were red, filled with tears, makeup smudged down her cheeks, and gagged at the mouth with a tie. The robber's breathing was ragged, chest heaving with each pump of adrenaline, finger held on that trigger.

"Take one more step and the bitch gets a bullet!" He shouted, Soldier Boy and you froze, you glanced at each other. He was the first to shrug and look back to the robber.

"Okay." He said, completely nonchalant to the threat. The gagged woman whimpered at the prospect that she might die in that moment. That not even her heroes would save her. You couldn't find words, dumbfounded that Soldier Boy would even say such a thing. You stared at him for confirmation, he nodded to cue you in. He was going way off script that day.

"Y-Yeah..." You placed your hands on your hips and stood tall. "Go ahead and shoot." The robber did fire the gun, but next to her head and you knew her eardrum was blown out for it. You flinched, whereas Soldier Boy remained planted and terse.

"I'm not fuckin' around!" The robber yelled.

"And neither am I, stop being a pussy and keep to your word." The robber's eyes widened, you mirrored the man's expression and immediately sought to deescalate.

"The way I see it, you have two choices..." You gestured at them, "You kill the hostages and we kill all of you, or you let the hostages go and we take you in." Soldier Boy smirked, scoping out the men as they all shared uneasy glances.

"And either way, it's all the same for us."

"Except..." You emphasized the word through clenched teeth, directed at Soldier Boy, then added. "We much prefer that no one dies today."

There was a tense quiet that followed, a precursor to the chaos that erupted out of nowhere. All perps began unloading their magazines on Soldier Boy and you, little clinks and jingles sounded as the dented rounds fell to the floor one by one. The hostages that weren't gagged, screamed for their lives, ducking down as bullets seemingly came from every direction. Loud clicks started to sound, soon all of them were on empty. Soldier Boy and you looked down at the puddle of lead at your feet, then to each other. He smiled.

"They don't make dumb fucks like you anymore, do they?" Soldier Boy commented, you held your hand out to him and he grabbed it with his free hand.

"Our turn." You prompted, just as Soldier Boy twirled and easily took you with him, he tossed you at the main assailant. Your body was rolling through the air, landing directly against the criminal with a sickening crack. Soldier Boy jerked his hips and threw his shield at another. The last perp was trying to make a run for it. You had already killed the main one by breaking his neck and Soldier Boy's shield definitely left a mortal injury on the other. Usually, the two of you would keep one of them alive for the press opportunity of standing in front of a camera and smiling, like two hunters showing off a prized stag. But Soldier Boy made a dead sprint for the third, he had different intentions.

"Soldier Boy! Last one lives!" You reminded, but it was too late and he was tackling the man to the floor, pummeling his masked face in with a barrage of fists. After a few beats, he came to stand, blood spattered all across his face and the chest plate of his suit. "Was that really necessary?!" You shouted to him in annoyance, voice bouncing off the high ceilings of the bank, whimpers and sobs sounding in the background.

"I'm in a mood today, sweetheart, so shut your pretty little mouth."

"You think I wanted to be here either!" Neither of you anticipated a fourth male shooting up from behind the counter with a bomb vest and a trigger in hand.

"I'M LEAVIN' WITH MY MONEY OR NO ONE IS WALKING OUT OF HERE!!" Soldier Boy and you had moved ahead to stand beside each other. Your hands were on your hips, his bloodied fists dangled at his sides, you both carried a stone coldness about you.

"Listen, kid, did you not just see what happened?" Soldier Boy gestured at his three dead accomplices. "If you don't put that trigger down that will be you."

"If I push this button, everyone is gonna' die." The man was shaking to the core, you could see sweat collecting on his skin through the eye holes of his mask.

"Not us," You spoke up, "We won't feel a fuckin' thing. So, just put the trigger down. You're not accomplishing anything with this."

"Fuck you!" He yelled, lifting the trigger in the air. You weren't thinking, you flew fast and gathered him up in your arms. You shot up and crashed through the ceiling of the bank. The bomb went off just as you cleared the building, blood spattered all over, you were holding bits and pieces of a mutilated body in your hands. The fiery explosion disappeared in a haze of black smoke. After the initial shock of being covered in blood and guts, you were lowering yourself out in front of the bank. Your hands were still clinging to dead pieces of the perp, hostages were exiting the double doors behind you and sprinting into the safety of police officers and EMS.

"Phoenix!" Soldier Boy barreled out of the bank, nearly destroying the doors and pushing aside an innocent woman that was in his way. He cupped your cheeks and held you there, staring down at you, investigating you for any injuries.

"Soldier Boy, I'm fine!" You ground out, grabbing his wrists and prying yourself from his clutches.

"Don't ever do that again! Do you understand?!" He pointed an admonishing finger in your face, snarling at you.

"What?! It's not like I felt anything, I'm fine, okay? I saved everyone."

"You didn't communicate at all?!"

"There was no time to!" You chuckled in disbelief, palming your face. "Besides, you're the one over here not giving two shits about the hostages."

"You didn't actually think I was going to let those fuckers hurt them." He cocked his head at you, the corner of his lip tilted up in a charming smirk before he rolled his eyes. "Seriously, I would never allow that."

"Well, this isn't the first time." You elbowed his shoulder, then looked to the crowd. Aside from the officers and the hostages, news reporters were bursting at the seams to cross that tape and rush to Soldier Boy and you for an interview. They were already taking photos, despite the hefty distance, shouting your hero names. "I'm leaving." He grabbed your wrist, tethering you to the earth.

"Now hold on a sec, why don't we go get a drink? Unwind."

"I'm covered in blood..." You tore yourself away. "And the last thing I want is to be anywhere near you." He frowned, tonguing the inside of his cheek. The wind whistled as you ascended into the sky at full speed and disappeared into the clouds. His brilliant eyes followed after you.

Meanwhile, you were drifting through the bank doors, watching every aspect of these dreams that were swirling in your head. Soldier Boy faced you, he looked directly at you, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you looked behind you.

"You." He spat, taking those few steps till he was within arms reach. The space that separated you both burned, your head began to throb.

"Me?"

"Yes. You." His strong jaw clenched and his eyes darted up and down your figure. "You can't trust them." He muttered under his breath, "They're lying to you."

"What are you talking about? What do you mean?"

"Wake up..." His words bounced inside your skull, you were hunching forward, clutching your head. "Wake the fuck up..."

Everything surged toward you, a heavy breath filled your lunges and you were jolting upright on a metal examination table. You were struggling to catch your breath, a palm naturally finding purchase at your chest to ease the pressure.

"Phoenix." Your eyes darted in the direction of the voice, Vogelbaum and a nurse were standing a safe distance away at the corner of the room. "Calm yourself." He smiled, it turned your stomach. "Everything is okay."

"W-What-" You were wearing a hospital gown. Your double vision focused until you were staring at Vogelbaum again. You blinked at him, eyes drifting shut, out of your control. "What happened?" You groaned, he turned his back to you.

"A gas valve went off in your penthouse. It's making headlines right now. You missed Soldier Boy's celebration of life."

"Gas valve?" You sat up straighter, weakly so, glancing around the room. It was all white, a lab of sorts, familiar to you from experiences that you had ages ago. You tried to prop yourself up on an elbow. "Soldier Boy?" You wiped your hand down your face. "W-What?"

"The blast knocked you unconscious." He turned to you, then started placing a bunch of stickies on your body, starting with your temple, then your collarbones, then your wrists and onward.

"What's going on?" Your voice trembled.

"Stay calm." Vogelbaum expressed, he cupped your cheek when he was done and smiled at you. "You're safe. This isn't like when you were sick."

"But how did I get knocked out? I-I-I've taken countless explosions."

"Well, you're getting old. It's normal to experience some wear and tear."

"Hmm..." You dropped your head into a palm and sighed. "I missed Soldier Boy's celebration?"

"Yes," He grabbed a clipboard, the nurse that was with him began clipping on a bunch of wires to the circular stickies, they were attached to a machine on a rolling cart. "Do you uh-remember him?"

"Soldier Boy." You propped your chin under your fist and nodded your head, a vision came over you and you were staring off into nothingness. "Yes." You gulped, shaking your head.

"Could you..." He waved two fingers at you. "Describe the day he died to me?" As you tried to collect yourself, flashes of lights and blurs filled your head.

"I uh-" Your eyebrows furrowed, the nurse flipped a switch and a short whizzing noise sounded. "Only recall bits and pieces." You shook your head, narrowed your eyes on him. "Why does that matter?"

"You were comatose for several days. You experienced a concussion," He dismissed. "I'm making sure that your brain is functioning to it's fullest capacity." He pulled up a stool and plopped down in front of you. "Phoenix, tell me what you remember about that day."

"Um..." You bit your tongue, itched your temple. "Soldier Boy and I went on a team-up. One of the Nuclear Power plants in Ohio. We saved as many people as we could. Ben told me to..." You felt a lump form in your throat. "He told me to go on ahead. The plant exploded and when I found him, he was a shell of himself. He died in my arms."

"Fascinating..." Vogelbaum mumbled, head buried in the clipboard as he scribbled notes. You glared at him and he got the message.

"What I mean is..." He tapped his pen at the paper. "It's fascinating that your brain recovered so much from the incident." You blinked at him, confused by whatever he was trying to hide. You knew he was lying to you, you could feel it. You just couldn't figure out why. "When you were under, your brain activity was off the charts. What was going on?"

"I-" You inhaled a deep breath. "I was dreaming about the past, I guess..." You snorted, shaking your head, eyes widening. "But it was like I was looking in, I wasn't apart of those memories."

"Interesting." His pen raced across the clipboard as he jotted down his thoughts.

"Look. I don't want to be here. When can I leave." He stood up, patted you on the shoulder.

"Sadly, we'll have to keep you under observation for a few more days." The nurse turned the machine off, it powered down with that same whizzing sound.

"I'll break out of here, then." Vogelbaum held his hand up, it did little to keep you from getting off of the metal table.

"Now, there's no need for that Phoenix. What's a few days to make sure that you're okay?" You sent him an uneasy grimace, then crossed your arms.

"Fine, but only a few. I'm not staying here longer than a week." You began unclipping the wires, "Scratch that. You've got two days."

"Okay," Vogelbaum nodded, scribbling something on his clipboard again. "I can do two days. Mind if I run a few more tests?" You collected the wires in your fist and tossed them to the nurse, who fumbled catching them all as they hit her chest.

"Not at all. I love being violated in every which way." Vogelbaum snorted, you sent him a sardonic look. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, he waved at the nurse.

"Jenny, would you give us a moment." As Vogelbaum passed you, you caught a reflection of yourself in the mirrored glass; two way, you were being watched. Nothing you were new to, you had been in this same position before. The metal door creaked as Jenny rolled the machine out of the room. It made a resounding thump when it shut behind her. The door must had been heavy, inches thick even. For something so minor as a bump to the head, Vought was taking some serious precautions.

"Phoenix, let's talk. Just you and me."

"This another test?" You itched the side of your neck, your fingers catching on one of the stickies on your skin. You began to peel it off, feigning a calm and collected outward appearance. Inside, your body was screaming, your head was pounding, you could feel a weight heavy in your chest. Your anxiety was getting worse with each passing second and you couldn't figure out why.

"Perhaps." He sat on the stool again, clipboard forgotten in the crook of his arm. "I know it's been a tough year-"

"Okay, we're done here." You rose to your bare feet, about to take your leave, removing stickies aggressively as you went.

"I'm trying to help you, but you have to work with me." You stopped at the metal door, with your back to him, you squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head.

"I'm tired."

"I know." You rested your forehead to the metal. "The depression hasn't gotten better, I'm assuming." You turned to him, arms crossed in a defensive stance, then shook your head. "I've created something that might help." He reached into the pocket of his lab coat and procured a bottle of pills.

"Don't you know by now that medicine doesn't work on me." You said lowly, eyeing the orange bottle.

"This will. It's more potent than any drug you've ever taken, I tuned it specifically to you." He offered it toward you, "And I guarantee, it's going to make you feel very, very relaxed." You accepted the bottle, looking between his all too friendly smile and his creation raveled in your vice grip. "Try. For me?"

"Okay..." You bit your bottom lip. "I'll try."

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#soldier boy x reader #reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy #payback #oc hero name #mindstorm #gunpowder #the boys #crimson countess #vought international #tnt twins #black noir

[seeds-and-sins]

Light My Fire - Part Two

Pairing: Ben "Soldier Boy" x F!Reader

Rating: M (Sexual themes, Crude language, Curse words; WARNING!! Mentions of Death/Desire to Die)

Description: Soldier Boy and you don't always get along, but that doesn't mean there isn't something going on. Ben isn't very good at hiding his feelings for you. He isn't good at showing them either.

Part One

"Where the hell is Phoenix?" Soldier Boy finally noticed why there was a gaping hole in the meeting room's atmosphere. With his feet propped up on the edge of the table, he inspected the entirety of his team and found that one member was missing. Stan Edgar straightened with a sigh, an almost performance worthy somberness to his expression as he shrugged.

"Sadly, Phoenix has fallen ill." Soldier Boy gritted his teeth, the anxious energy tripled as he glared around at his team mates, whom were all unable to make eye contact with him.

"Ill?" Soldier Boy spat, "That's impossible. The bitch has an immune system akin to the Berlin Wall."

"That's what we had assumed for many years, but Phoenix is currently bed ridden with a small cold, proving us wrong." Edgar redirected the conversation then, immediately, "She will not be joining us on this mission, but hopefully she will have recovered by the time we get back."

"Bullshit." Ben wasn't falling for it. Phoenix was a goddamned firecracker-You were a firecracker. Although he had never seen it, he was certain that not even the sniffles would keep you from putting on that suit and fighting. Edgar made it seem like it was so normal, nothing to be alarmed over, but Phoenix was in her early fifties and you never got sick. Something wasn't right here. "Has anyone seen her?" He peered around the table, the awkward silence giving him his answer. "Well, that's settled then. Vought sent her on a fuckin' secret mission, and now they're trying to cover it up." He was satisfied with that conclusion, until Edgar cocked his head stoically at him, and said:

"Interesting theory, Soldier Boy, but Phoenix is actually here in the tower right this very moment. Resting. You are welcome to go see for yourself, no secret mission whatsoever." Soldier Boy, as stubborn as he was, went to stand. "I would insist though, that you go find her after the meeting. This is just a small briefing before our trip to Nicaragua." Soldier Boy's jaw tightened and he reluctantly sat back down, kicking his feet back up once more.

For the rest of the meeting, Soldier Boy remained surprisingly quiet, adrift so to speak, attention completely lost to all things around him. Usually, he had a habit of complaining and making quick insults at his teammates, but this time something more intriguing had taken up space in his thoughts. You.

Was he actually worried? He never worried about anything, he was Soldier Boy. But you were not unlike him when it came to your super abilities and the idea that you were sick didn't sit right with him.

Neither of you ever really got along: not having you around for a mission should have made him happy, but it didn't. He appreciated your grit, something that was in short supply these days. He always had appreciated your grit. You were the only idiot on the team stupid enough to call him out and he loved every second of it. You were fierce and compassionate and you were a damn good hero. If anyone asked the right question, he would very openly admit that you were the only other competent little shit in all of Payback-aside from himself, that was. And his countless attempts at getting into your pants? Well, it was sort of a coverup. Because he did like you so much that it almost hurt sometimes not being near you. You turned him down every time, forever and always was your modo, but it didn't put him off in the slightest. He loved it more than he should have.

Not having you around. Impossible. Not happening. He wouldn't allow it. He was the leader of Payback and if he said you were coming, you were coming.

When the meeting finished-small, my ass-he ordered one of the interns to go fetch him a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a bottle of brandy. He chuckled to himself as he watched them sprint away to go complete his order, knowing that if they made him wait any longer than was necessary he would not be pleased.

"You're going to go see her, aren't you?" Crimson Countess popped out from behind him, leaning against the wall beside the meeting room's double doors. Soldier Boy put on his flirtiest expression, propping an arm up beside Countess' head before grinning.

"Why? Are you jealous?" He teased, thinking it would curl those beautiful painted lips of hers. Instead, she rolled her eyes.

"What's the point even?" His eyes narrowed on her.

"What do you mean, sweetcheeks?" He wasn't going to feed any assumptions, if he didn't understand said assumptions to begin with. "You're just being paranoid. You know there is only one girl for me." He winked, caressing her porcelain cheek with the crook of his finger.

"Don't even." She shoved his hand away and he visibly frowned. "You fucked me once and that was it for you. Then you moved on to all these other girls and that's fine. But you don't want to fuck Phoenix, do you?" Her features drawn down in a sullen glare, "You want to be with her." Soldier Boy gulped, cracking his neck and then standing back from his lean on the wall to adjust his vest.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure, I don't."

"Here!" The breathless intern returned, Soldier Boy faced him with a raised brow.

"What the fuck? That was like five seconds, kid." The intern was bent over, struggling to catch their breath. They held out an open bottle of whiskey and a container of a sloshy, mushy liquid. "Are you shittin' me?" Soldier Boy snatched the container from the intern's hand. "What the fuck is this?"

"My lunch, Sir. Chicken Noodle Soup that my mother made..." He held up the liquor, Soldier Boy winced in disgust at the half empty bottle. "And this, I stole it from the Legend's office." Soldier Boy lifted his chin in thought, his features loosened for a moment and he swayed his head from side to side in consideration.

"Points for effort, fuck nut..." He snatched up the bottle of booze and then lifted his boot, using a small fraction of his strength to tip the intern over to the ground. "But the soup is cold, so you're still pathetic." He shot a look back at a discarded Countess and then carelessly began down the hallway, leaving the Intern groaning and laying flat on the floor.

He had been in Phoenix's penthouse many times, a majority of the time he was uninvited. You had to have your door replaced at least seven times in the past year because he had a penchant for breaking and entering, especially if you weren't alone. He just couldn't help himself. The idea of you being with someone else, when he was more than capable of stopping it, it itched at his skin. He sometimes would stand outside your door for hours, contemplating whether or not to knock. And obviously, why would he knock? He was Soldier Boy. He didn't knock for anyone.

But god, what a stubborn bitch you were...

This time he would knock.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He heard some shuffling on the other end, a TV being paused, followed by footsteps.

"Yes?" A nasally voice sounded=, he almost couldn't believe that it belonged to you.

"Police. Open up." He smirked, tilting his head as he listened for your response. There was a brief silence, and then:

"Fuck off, Ben."

"Think again, cupcake, I brought you the goods." Another moment of silence, he waited, and then he was done waiting. He dug his shoulder into the edge of the doorframe, his cheek close to it as if he was listening. "God, you must love me breaking down your door."

"Urgh, stop!" You hit the door and he bounced back with a hearty chuckle. "GO. AWAY."

"Do you think that's going to work?" You unlocked the door and swung it open, Soldier Boy instantly recoiled at the sight of you. You were wearing at least three layers of sweatshirts, comically making you look thicker, sweatpants and a pair of fluffy slippers. Your hair was disheveled, dark circles under your eyes, and your skin was sickly looking. His eyebrows furrowed and a certain strictness overtook him.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Jesus Christ," He hid his concern as quickly as it had dawned on him. "Please tell me you're dying." You slumped into the door, tiredly fluttering your eyes before sniffling.

"You'll be dead in a few seconds if you don't fuck off." There it was, that fire that he loved oh so much.

"Hear me out-"

"I hate hearing you out."

"I know, but this time..." He held up the soup and the bottle. "You might give me a chance."

"Really?" You snorted, crossing your arms as a horrible shiver wracked your body. "This is what you bothered me for."

"Considering that no one else on the team has stopped by, I'd say beggars can't be choosers."

"I didn't beg to be bothered by you, asshole."

"But you thought it, didn't you?" He held the items up again, puckering his lips in an amusing pose. "Come on~" He chirped, "Let me bother you."

"I'll accept the offering, you can leave now." You reached out for them, just to shut him up, except that wasn't enough. He swiped the items back to his chest and feigned an appalled look.

"Oh, please, honey, we're a package deal." You stared at him blankly, before stepping back, about to shut the door. "You close that door, next time I'll break it down." The shift in his tone, from playful to terse, sent a bout of irritation through you. You cracked it back a little, closing your eyes and then with an exhausted exhale, you creaked it open just enough. "Yahtzee." He cheered in a sing song voice, entering your penthouse and then booking it for the couch. You slammed the door and rushed to beat him to it.

"No. Don't you dare. No. No! FUCK!" He splayed himself across the couch, blankets and all, destroying the little nest you had made for yourself. You kicked the edge of the couch, it shifted from your strength and Soldier Boy laughed.

"Ooo, what are we watching?" He sat upright, allowing some space for you to occupy. He placed the bottle and the soup on the coffee table, squinting in thought at the giant Panasonic screen ahead of him. "A porno?" You bonked him on the head as you passed in front of him to curl into the corner of the couch.

"No, dipshit, it's Footloose. VHS." He unlatched his helmet and proceeded to remove it, dropping it alongside the other items on the coffee table.

"Ahhh, who's the guy in that-uh-" He snapped his fingers aggressively, closing in his eyes to scour the farthest reaches of his being. "Steak-Sausage-He's named after some kind of meat, I know it-"

"Bacon..." You couldn't help but laugh. "Kevin Bacon." Soldier Boy smiled boyishly at you, weaving his fingers through his hair and pulling back the bangs that dropped before his eyes.

"Yeah, that Bacon guy. Not bad, I guess. Shitty movie though." You hit his arm with what strength you had.

"Don't fuck this up for me. I've never seen it before."

"Neither have I..." He snorted, "I was too busy getting a blow job in the back row. Ya'know back in my time-"

"Our time." Oh yeah, sometimes he forgot that they were almost the same age. "Back in our time." You shivered again, snatching the blanket that Soldier Boy had pinned to the couch with his ass. He showed you mercy and sat up for you, so that you could bring the fabric up and around your body. His eyes focused on you for a split second before he shook his head away.

"Back in our time, we had good actors. They'd sing and dance and do all sorts of shit. Heck, did I ever tell you about that time I-"

"Ate Audrey Hepburn out in a bathroom stall at the Academy Awards?" You finished dully, Soldier Boy chewed the inside of his cheek.

"What about when I-"

"Fucked Marilyn Monroe in the ass, in the Oval Office?"

"Okay, now-"

"When you jerked off on Lucille Ball?" He clicked his tongue and snapped at you this time:

"You made that last one up."

"Sounds about right though, you mostly only ever contribute your sexual exploits to ninety percent of our conversations, so..." You sniffled, lifting the remote from the end table and shrugging. "Unless you have a legitimate explanation, I don't want to hear it."

"Fuckin' bitch." He muttered under his breath as you pressed play on the remote, rolling the movie. It was silent for a few minutes, nothing but the music and conversation from the big screen, and then you shivered again, your teeth rattling as your body tensed. You cursed under your breath, a wave of annoyance washing over you. "Vogelbaum see you, yet?" Soldier Boy asked, from the corner of your eyes you saw his head tilt toward you. "You don't look so good."

"Why do you care?" You spat at him, shifting to stare in his direction.

"Because you're a member of my team..." You rolled your eyes back to the movie, choosing to ignore what sounded like genuine care in his words. "I mean, if I am allowing you to stay here-"

"Allowing me?" You forced out a boisterous laugh, from the pit of your belly, that slightly hurt. "What are you gonna' do? Force me to go throw myself limply at Marxist Sandanistas?"

"You still got some strength in you, kid. Squeeze my pinky." He followed this by actually holding his pinky out. You rolled your eyes, but proceeded to wrap your pinky around his and squeeze. Strong, but not that strong.

"Ben, I can hardly lift myself up from the ground, it hurts to breath, and this morning I struggled to bring my tea to a steady boil." He flicked his pinky from yours, your hand limply falling to your lap. His eyes scanned you, chest rising and falling with a heavy breath.

"You afraid?"

"No." You confessed, although you continued with, "Heck, the sooner I die, the less I have to look at your ugly mug."

"That's a brat move." He smiled at you, you couldn't help but return it. There was almost an odd way about this moment, as if you were secretly comforting each other, while trying not to comfort each other, while also trying to hate each other. Or at least, this was a much more comfortable moment compared to the usual. "Seriously. Did you get Vogelbaum in here?"

"He came and checked me out, said I was fine."

"That sit right with you?"

"Not, really, but I don't care." You bit your bottom lip, refusing to look at him.

"Why, not?" The music in the background was no longer soothing as it was needling every nerve in Soldier Boy's patience. "(Y/N)?" It was the only warning you were going to get before he destroyed the TV, he decided.

"We don't age." You clicked the button on the remote, the screen zapping into an abyssal black. You propped your head under your fist on the armrest and gazed at Soldier Boy. You hadn't slept for days and your superhuman energy could only run for so long. You were on backup at this point.

"So what..." He crossed his arms, a stern curve to his brow. "I thought woman liked that shit. No wrinkles, or whatever."

"Ben, I'm being serious."

"Me too."

"You're sixty-five years old..."

"Thanks for stating the obvious."

"And you don't look a day over thirty." He breathed, pretending not to understand the implications of what you were suggesting. He knew it already. The both of you did. You weren't the only two heroes that never aged, but it was a given that you didn't age ever and that your kind of hero was few and far between. "I'm fifty-four and look just as young as I did when I was twenty-two, getting that first injection of V."

"What are you even going on about, honey? I think you need some weed, calm ya' down, want me to-"

"Please listen to me for once." Were you crying? Oh boy, Ben thought. He cleared his throat and then sat up taller against the backrest of the couch, directing his eyes to the ceiling. "I don't want to live forever. Time gives life meaning, ya'know? And when you can't feel pain, or you're too strong to give someone normal a really good hug, it starts to get to you." You palmed at your face, willing the tears away. "I want to get married one day, I want to have kids and grow old with someone."

"Pfft, Marriage." Ben mockingly echoed, but he was silenced by your tear stained expression. He had never seen you so broken before.

"I can't believe I'm even talking to you about this..." Your breath wavered with a snicker. "You're the biggest asshole I've ever met. You don't care."

"I've thought about it..." He needed to busy himself with something, so he settled on the whiskey. He tucked in a reach for the bottle, yanking the cork out and going for a chug. The liquid left a pleasant burn behind on his throat and he winced. "Settling down with someone..." He feigned a cough into his fist. "That I care about. That I-" His head tilted back and forth. "That I might even love."

"Countess..." Hearing you say her name made his skin crawl, his fist clenched and he shut his eyes. No. Not Countess, Phoenix. "She loves you."

"She hates me." He plopped back, placing the bottle in between his legs on his crotch. "Only puts up with me because of the money, because of the fame."

"Maybe if you showed some loyalty to her, she wouldn't." His tongue slung around teeth, collecting the residue of the hardy liquid. With his head laid on the puffy pillow of the backrest, he turned it to you.

"I'm a real fuck up, I know it. My father seemed to know it too..." He fiddled with the neck of the bottle. "But I'm still afraid of failing the people I really do care about." You eyed him, not particularly sure what to do with this soft and open moment. "And Countess isn't one of them."

So you push people away.

Your breath hitched, you buried the bottom half of your face under the covers for a brief recoup in your feelings. Your face was still wet and you hate how absolutely freezing it was.

"I don't want you to die..." The admission was heaved out, shaky and choppy and all sort of scrambled, but your entire body tingled at it. "If that wasn't obvious enough." You pulled the blanket over your head, like that was going to help you.

"I don't think it was, Ben. You just told me you wished I was dying, not even a few minutes ago."

"I was joking, come on. Can't take a fuckin' joke?" He yanked at the edge of the blanket, but not hard enough to tug it from you. "What's the problem, anyways? You've got the sniffles, big whoop."

"I'm cold." You lowered the blanket to gaze at him. "I'm never cold."

"Well, you're a naturally hot person. No shame in that." He grinned, winking at you. When you didn't immediately react, as far as he could see-the blanket hiding your smile-he stretched his arm across the couch again. "I know something that can warm you up."

"I'm not going to have sex with you."

"Damn, I like the way you think." He purred, you pretended to gag at him as you settled the blanket in your lap. "But no, just come jump in my furnace for a little bit. I won't touch you." After his offer, he followed with an assertive wave of the hand that was stretch out along the back rest toward you.

"Ben-"

"I've seen you butt naked, get your ass over here." You sighed, knowing he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, he never did. You weakly shuffled across the couch and when you were close enough he dropped his arm, trapping you in his embrace. Your body melted against his and you were instantly incapacitated at the heat that drew from in thick waves. You couldn't help the moan that exited your parted lips. "Careful, you might just tempt me, honey."

"I'll-" Your eyes slid shut as you dropped your cheek to his chest. "I'll burn your dick off if you try anything." His laughter rumbled up through his chest and you felt it with a fond smile. You wished you could smell too, because you were certain he smelled amazing.

"We going to turn the TV back on, or..."

"Why don't we just..." You smacked your lips, bringing a leg over his thigh so that you perfectly curled up to his side. "Let's just stay here for a bit." He didn't promise not to touch you, his palm held the base of your skull and his other hand guided yours to rest flat on his chest.

"I'm okay with that." He allowed his own eyes to slid shut as he took a deep breath. He tucked his nose into your scalp and inhaled, you were too sleepy to stop him. "If you aren't better by the time I get back, I'm going to toss you off the top of the tower."

"Why would you do that?" You snorted, confused more than annoyed by it. You knew how he could be.

"Call it, Soldier Boy's in-home flight training experience." You smiled goofily, thankful that he couldn't see it.

"Oh yeah? Well, if I'm going down, you're going down with me."

"You won't go down though..." There was a lilt of a growl to his words. "Because you'll be brand new by then, right?"

"I hope." You didn't expect him to squeeze you even tighter.

"You will. Promise." You turned your face, your lips to his chest plate as you then looked up into his eyes.

"I promise." He wanted to kiss you so badly then, but he couldn't. He couldn't kiss you. He thought about your conversation, about how you both opened up to each other. He thought about what his father said to him all those years ago... And he didn't want to hurt you. Instead, he cupped your cheek and stared back.

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#the boys #payback #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy #mindstorm #tommy #gunpowder #swatto #the legend #crimson countess #reader #vought international #oc hero name

[seeds-and-sins]

The Only Truth Series - Only Monsters

Pairing: Oz “The Penguin” Cobblepot x F!Reader

Rating: T (Curse words, implied sexual relationship, alcholism, adult themes)

Description: You have forced down the implications of your situation for too long. Oz helps the best way he can.

Author's Note: I notice a lot of my shit is very angsty. I plan on softening it up some next part of this series. Also, you do not have to read these in a certain order. They are all one-shots that can come together to create a story, but they don't have to be put together.

First

Second

You flinched when the apartment door swung open. You hadn't expected Oz to be home so early, you had hoped to at least have an hour or two to yourself. He hobbled into the living room, you noticed the exhaustion in his hung shoulders. And you watched the cogs of his mind turn, each thought sliding into place and sifting off another: First, when he spotted your discarded clothes, he thought you were cheating. The rage came and went as quickly as he spotted you. Alone. The second thought entered his mind, something was wrong. Mascara stained your cheeks, your silk black robe barely held to your bare flesh, a glass of whiskey-neat-in one hand as the other held you steady against the island counter of your shared kitchen. The third thought-the front of his phone was pressed to his chest, he was on a call- "Honey, what happened?"

You don't respond. Your brain can't muster the necessary words needed to respond. Because all you had inside you in that moment was shame, guilt, absolute and unadulterated hatred. When he sounded so concerned, a flicker of pain in his eyes at the sight of you in pain, it felt like a dagger straight through you. It was the same dagger that had been lodged in your chest for months and months upon months and months. The months never ended, the days bled together as if connected by veins and arteries, thick with sludge and clotted by your own immorality.

He squinted at you, then brought the phone to his ear again. You knew it wasn't Falcone when he abruptly cut the person off.

"We'll talk later. Just get it done." Oz hung up, he tossed the phone haphazardly onto the couch. You hated that he was so willing to drop everything to attend to you, to make you happy, to keep you safe. The nausea thickened in your stomach, you gulped down the entirety of the crystal glass in your hand. "What are ya' doin'?" You sniffled, when he stepped toward you, you stepped away. The bar was between you, but Oz was still too close for your liking.

You wanted to be left alone. You came here to be left alone. He shouldn't be here.

Oz's eyes narrowed on you, dark and unending pools, filled with worry. Everything paused completely when you met them, you didn't look away when you poured yourself another glass-messily so, you were drunk-bronze liquid droplets spattered across an obsidian countertop.

"You should be working. You should be back at the club. What happened?" There was an edge there, your lack of words was getting to him. Although you knew if you spoke anything meaningful now, in this fragile state, it would be too much said. He gritted his teeth, jaw shifting from side to side. He tried to step to you again, a little faster this time, and you immediately stomped away.

"Fuck off." You turned your back to him because looking at him was too much. As you fled to the lengthy window that travelled the expanse of the apartment, you found you had made a mistake: the moment you saw yourself in the reflection, you broke down all over again. The alcohol hadn't done a thing to mute your pain, it only made it worse.

You didn't recognize the person staring back at you. Who was that? The messy, crazy looking shell of a soul, a pretender, a liar, a criminal. Sometimes you couldn't even remember your name, your real name.

Today it had been at it's worst. Why were you even here? To what means did this story have an end?

And when you saw yourself in the window, you didn't see yourself-not really-you didn't see a proud GCPD police officer, you saw a monster. The burn of whiskey was nothing compared to the burn of not recognizing the thing you had become, the thing you once were. Not even human. Not even deserving of a life.

You cupped your palm over your face as tears ran down your cheeks, a hard sob shook you. You felt Oz closing in, there was no bar to force the distance anymore.

"Baby..." He called, soft, soothing, he only wanted to help you.

But how could he help you when he didn't even know who you were.

"I said, fuck off!" You hissed, swatting your arm out behind you and he barely missed the impacy. You stumbled, stablizing your wet palm on the glass.

"Ey, what the fuck is going on 'ere?!" He really didn't want to be angry with you, not when he didn't know what was wrong with you to begin with, but he wasn't going to let you walk all over him either. "Look, I understand you're upset, but you don't fuckin' talk to me that way."

"I'll talk to you however I want." You growled, storming off again. He wasn't able to snatch you in time. You were already speeding down the hallway and into the bedroom, your silk robe flowing out behind you. You could hear his awkward gait pressing after you, footsteps echoing off the narrow walls of the hallway.

You chugged your drink, falling into the doorframe.

"Don't you dare fuckin' close that door!" You thought about it, but in your enebriated state you were more focused on the bright lights of your vanity. It left an orangey glow throughout the room, you must had left it on earlier. Your footing was off, your struggling to keep upright, but you somehow made it to the tiny chair. Your torso sprawled across the surface, several makeup products dropping to the floor. You released the whiskey glass, allowing it to roll off and drop onto the white pillowy carpet. You caved your arms in and dropped your head into their protection. You peaked up to stare at yourself in the mirror, hunched over yourself and huddled in a black robe like a turtle in their shell.

Oz entered the room, he flicked the light on. The room exploded in white from a diamond chandelier hanging above. It blinded you more than the vanity lights had and you tucked your head in.

"Will you talk to me? Hmm?! I can't help if you won't talk to me."

"I just..." You wiped your face, snot running from your nose, you sniffled again. "I want to be left alone."

"I can't leave you like this. Did someone hurt you?! Did I do something wrong?! Is there a reason you're fuckin' drunk?! Give me something." You heard him stop right next to you, he grunted as he bent down to lift the crystal glass off the floor. You jolted upright, forcing him to jump away from you.

"Does something have to be wrong?!" You yelled, your entire body was taut like a spring and you wished for a moment that your heart might just stop beating altogether. Oz was furious, but you hated yourself even more when you saw the tension leave him completely. He inhaled a deep breath that rose and fell in his burly chest, he licked his lips. It didn't go unnoticed that he had a patience for you that he held for no one.

"No." He answered in the calmest tone, much unlike what you expected by that sharp glare he was shooting. "Nothing has to be wrong." His voice turned into gravel, breath heavy from the effort he had made in catching up with you. "But you're pushing me away, and for what?" Fresh hot tears trickled down your cheeks again, you aggressively rubbed them away-annoyed with yourself now more than ever. Why couldn't you just be stronger?

Hang on a little longer, they told you, We almost have all the evidence we need to put him away forever.

But you didn't want Oz to go to prison. You didn't want to put him away. You loved him. Why did you love him? You hated yourself for loving him. You wanted to die for it. You deserved the worst of punishments. You deserved this horrible pain, this suffering.

"Why are you still here?" You asked angrily, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

What hurt the most was that he didn't even know who you were. All this time spent together and he would hate the real you over this false identity any day. If he saw the real you on the street, he wouldn't recognize you, he wouldn't even spare you a glance. In this reality, in this identity you had made for yourself, this mask, you had become his queen. He would do anything for his queen. He would do nothing for you. Nothing.

"Why do you love me?" He snorted in disbelief, flinging his hands up in the air.

"That really a question?"

"Don't fuck with me." You were about to bury yourself again, but he grabbed your wrist and forced you to face him. In your seated position, you were looking up at him, he was like a beacon to you-brighter than any light in that stupid room.

"Why do I love you?" He repeated, his Gotham accent molding the words to fit around his tongue. "Because you're beautiful. Because you're smart. Because you're perfect." You tore from him, standing abruptly and swiftly gathering out of reach.

"I'm not perfect."

"Neither am I, but you're still here." You crossed your arms, biting the inside of your lip until you tasted copper. "You're my kind of perfect, alright?" You could see his expression behind your eyelids, you didn't even have to be looking at him to know he was defeated. He was never the best at comforting anyone, but he would do his best for you.

"You don't even know me, Oz. I'm..." Your breath hitched, the tears kept rolling, a ball formed in your throat. "I'm a monster."

"Well, then you're my monster." He spun you toward him, gently trapping you in his embrace.

"You don't get it, Oz!" You would have shoved him had his grip not held you so tight it left you immobile. "I'm a horrible person!"

"If you're horrible, honey, then I'm the devil." You sighed, dropping your forehead into his shoulder. He cupped the back of your head and lightly swayed from side to side. "You're wrong. I do know you." He continued, his minty breath hot at your cheek, his ring fingers rubbing the nape of your neck. "I know how you like your coffee. I know your favorite movies. I know that-despite how fuckin' annoying it is-you never fold your laundry." You couldn't help but huff a laugh into his suit jacket. Your small crack of amusement, made him tilt his head down to stare at you. He had a heart breakingly tender smile on his lips. "You're the only person I know that wears socks to bed, how 'bout dat'? Granted, there are very few people I share a bed with, so..." Your raised brow made his chest reverberate with a chuckle and he shook his head in jest. "I'm jokin', I'm jokin'. You're the only person I share a bed with."

"I better be." Your smile was sad, the pain was coming back all over again, no matter how greatly it subsided in his hold. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his suit and you buried your face into his neck. "What if you get sick of me one day? What if I'm not good 'nough?"

"You kiddin'?" He held you tighter in return. "That would never happen. Why would you say that?"

"I don't deserve to be happy, Oz."

"Who told you that?" He spat through clenched teeth. "You deserve everything, babydoll. Everything." He punctuated this by drawing you back enough to look at you again. All serious. "Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise." Your cheek leaned into his palm, you cupped his hand to your face.

"Do you ever feel like..." You whimpered, "Like you don't know who you are anymore?" His eyes scanned your face, mind searching his brain for an answer. His lips pressed hard together and then he nodded.

"Yeah. Sometimes."

"What do you-" You gulped, his thumb spread across your cheek to wipe away a stray tear. "What do you do?"

"I come back to you." He admitted lowly, his nostrils flared with a long inhale, his forehead met yours and his eyes slid shut. "Because you remind me of who I am. And you remind me of who I want to be."

"I feel like I'm wearing a mask, all the time." You whispered, thinking that maybe it was too much. Maybe that your statement would throw him off. Maybe he would start to suspect. His eyelids fluttered, lips close enough that he was pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Don't be afraid. I know who you are. You're my girl." He said it with so much certainty, brushing his nose against yours. "You'll always be my girl." You blinked at him, the fondness in which he considered you didn't make your stomach turn this time, you melted completely into him. "And you can always take off your mask when you're with me."

"I love you." You uttered.

"'Love you too." Your lips molded with his in a slow and fluid motion. Through parted lips your tongues washed over one another, dancing in understanding and grace. After a few beats, you reluctantly withdrew. Your kisses traveled across his jaw to just below his ear and they would have kept going had his meaty hands not grabbed your waist and squeezed.

"I hate to do this to you, honey, but I have to get back to work." Your arms wrapped around his neck and latched on, locking you to him.

"Please. Don't go." He frowned, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry. I just have a few things to take care of and then I'll come right back." He saw your apprehension and immediately reacted. "I'm not leaving till you're all comfy, baby. You think I'd just ditch you like this. Never." He directed you toward the bed, to ease your doubts. "Let me go get you some tea. We'll get the tv going with your favorite flicks. I'll even have one of the boys bring you up some ice cream, yeah?" You nodded, but as he let go of you, your grip on him tightened. "I'll be back in no time, really."

"You promise?" He pecked your lips.

"I swear it." He caressed his fingertip in place over your lips and sent you a warm smile. "When I get back we can even have a nice bath together, hmm? With that favorite scented soap you like?"

"'Sounds good." You forced a smile, which was convincing enough for him to go on his way.

"I'll be right back with the tea, babydoll." As soon as he was out of sight you found yourself disappearing into the sheets, your body ached, your heart pounded hard and fast, you frowned, it was difficult to stamp down your tears.

You lived a life of lies.

#oz cobblepot x reader #oz cobblepot #the batman 2022 #the batman #angst #the penguin

[seeds-and-sins]

Wait for Me

Pairing: Eduardo “Lalo” Salamanca x GN!Reader

Rating: T (gorey descriptions-not overly gorey-bullet wound, so blood, lots of it, suggestive themes, kissing)

Description: Lalo Salamanca is dead and Nacho is on the run. For the time being, the Salamanca empire is left in your hands and you would die to defend it. You nearly do.

Author's Note: With my GN fics, I try to be as open and as general as possible. If at any point in time you guys are reading and you notice otherwise, please don't be afraid to let me know. I want everyone to enjoy these fics. :) Anywho, this takes place the same day Lalo plans on going after Gus. So yeah, the morning of that day.

Don't Say Goodbye

Eduardo 'Lalo' Salamanca was dead. You were sitting at a table in the El Michoacáno when one of the dealers came storming in for the usual meet time and told you. You didn't want to believe it at first, but not more than an hour later you found yourself surrounded by Salamanca dealers, bickering amongst one another, waiting for answers. Since Lalo and Nacho left for Mexico, you had been in charge. Now, the situation had changed darastically. Without Salamanca men on the street, watching over the business, things could get bad. The rest that followed you was a blur:

You slammed your hands down on the table as you stood, effectively silencing them.

"This changes nothing! We do everything we've been doing and more. We keep things moving."

"Says who?" One of them spat, the bald one with the gangly piercings all over his face.

"Says I." You growled, knowing that you needed to step up, knowing that you needed to make your authority clear. "Eduardo's last orders were that I remain in charge until Nacho returns. We've heard nothing about Nacho. Business continues as usual."

"We've heard plenty about Nacho." One of them shot out, finally making the rumors he had heard known, after waiting for so long. None of these idiots could be trusted. Pick one of them to take charge and the Salamanca empire, decades of hard work, will burn. "He betrayed Lalo. He's been a tratior this whole time."

"We don't know that for sure."

"And if it is true? What do we do?!" Lalo had called this one, Ocho Loco. He was a good friend of Nacho's, or at least a good acquintance, you understood his panic. Salamancas were dropping left and right, this was job security on the line.

"We keep doing what we do. That's final." They all stared at you, some glaring, some looking on with worry. "Do you all not want to get your money?!" Rolled eyes, groans, they didn't like following the leader to begin with, even if you were right. "We do what we do. Understood?" A cacophony of noises was your answer, and then they dispersed.

You dropped back into your seat, your face devoid of all of the emotions that were running through you.

You were afraid. You were heartbroken. You were angry. And there was no one to lean on. No one that you could trust. Visiting Tuco, or trying to get in contact with him in these trying times would be too dangerous. And Hector would see your weakness. The twins would come and kill you, surely, you would be seen as a fault the moment anyone saw you cracking under pressure. If you were going to make your mark, now was the time to do it. If you were going to prove yourself, this was the moment. That was what Lalo would have wanted.

Except, you hadn't anticipated things going south so fast...

Boom!

You slammed your body into your front door. Your fingers shook as you aggressively tried to slide the key into your front door.

"Come on. Come on. Come on." As soon as the door gave way, you entered swiftly and slammed it behind you. Red fingerprints marked up everywhere you touched. Your cell phone rung in your left pocket and as you stumbled into the black space of your living room. You grabbed the armrest of the couch and unceremoniously plopped into it. As the ringing sounded throughout the room, bouncing off the walls, your body fell flat and still. After a few seconds, you jolted upright and removed the phone from your pocket to answer. "What?!" You sounded breathless, downright ragged, chest heaving as you tried to calm yourself. You rubbed your eyes, but the blood on your fingers smeared. You dropped backward limply again, sitting upright this time. "Don't worry. I took care of the problem." You listened a few beats. "Like fuck am I gonna' tell you where I am. I will see you at the restaurant tomorrow, same time as always." You hung up, inhaling a deep breath through your nostrils. Your limbs fell at either side of you as the last of your energy flowed away, the phone slid from your grasp, you looked down at the damage: a bullet hole in the side and blood all over. Sweat coated you like a second layer of skin, droplets dribbling off your brow.

In your fading vision you saw a figure appear from your peripheal and you welcomed them completely when you realized who it was.

"Lalo." You cried, reaching out weakly toward him. That was enough to let you know that you were dying. That soon you would be with him, wherever the afterlife would take you. His fingers wrapped around yours and he rushed to your side, bringing your closed fist to his lips and the blood painted him. He felt so real, even though you felt like your body was bordering reality and hallucination.

"Cielito." His opposite began picking gently at the sticky clothing around your wound. "Let me help you."

"No. No. I-" Your breath hitched, "I can't live."

"Why?" His eyebrows furrowed and his handsome face went placcid, but you couldn't see all of it. The darkness was slowly edging at your vision and it was only getting worse.

"Because I want to be with you." His eyebrows softened and his lips turned up into that smile that you loved so much.

"Ahhh, cielito." He reached a hand out for your end table lamp and flicked it on. The both of you were drenched in hot light, your eyes squeezed shut for a moment. When you opened them in crescents, Eduardo's face was in full view to you. He was wearing smudged red around his lips from your blood, but he looked as handsome as he was the last time you saw him.

Something about him looked alive.

"If you are willing to die for me, then you can live for me too, ey?" Reluctantly, you nodded your head in a tired motion. You drooped in a heap, sluggish and slow in movement as your eyelids fluttered. Lalo's stern brows were furrowed as he inspected your wound, you couldn't feel the pain anymore, the throbbing had ceased. He snapped his fingers in front of you, you forced your eyes open. "Stay awake for me, cielito. You can rest after I heal you." Before you could protest you were being lifted into his strong arms.

All of this must had been some sick dream, concocted by your mind to appease the guilt of your failures. He carried you into the kitchen, objects plummeted to the floor as he stopped at your rectangular dining room table and knocking everything off. He flattened you on it's surface, your fingers slid from him when he rushed away. He was gone for a few beats, you found yourself slipping again. He returned with a pillow, towels, a bowl of water, napkins. The light dangling above your table was like a halo around his head. Would a man like him even so much as get a glimpse of what heaven looked like? The pillow was unceremoniously shoved under your head. He rolled your shirt up, he lifted your torso to help pull the clothing over your head. He cared more for the wound than anything else at the moment.

"This is bad."

"You should see the other guy." You weakly snorted, a smirk briefly flitted across his lips and then strict concentration once more.

"First aid kit?"

"Under the sink, my bathroom." He left your sight again, he was fast to return. He opened the kit alongside you, carelessly pouring the bowl of water all over your wound. You hissed, but it was more reactionary to his actions than to the pain. There still was no pain. Your vision was fading. Your head pounded. "You've done good, cielito. Hang in there for me, okay?" Blood continued running from the bullet hole. He reached inside with his thumb and forefinger, wiggling his fingers around, stretching the skin till he found the bullet. He held it up in the light to make sure it was whole and then tossed it over his shoulder. Your eyes closed shut completely, hands limp at your sides. "Hey." He slapped your cheek, "Awake. Remember."

"Eduardo, please. Why do you torment me this way?" You whimpered. "Let me go." He stopped everything he was doing, time fell still. He hunched over you and brushed his bloody palm on your cheek. His dark eyes bled sadness, while his expression was firm and stoic.

"If you die, how am I going to show you how much you matter to me? Hmm?" You didn't know how to respond and it was growing more and more difficult to stay lucid. "Stay alive, mi amor." His voice faded. "Stay alive."

...

You woke up to softness and a dull pain in your side that was dwarfed by your comfort. You could sleep longer, your eyes drifted shut and your body sunk into the plush mattress of your bed. When you finally looked around, it was to the sight of your room and you thought that you must be dead. You couldn't have survived last night and Lalo wouldn't have come to see you if you hadn't somehow met him in the afterlife. You slowly sat up with a groan and your ears tuned in to the sound of sizzling. It proved difficult to get up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and taking a moment to stand. The room spun and you held your hands out to steady yourself. Once you felt confident in your position, you moved forqard, using the door frame and walls to keep yourself upright.

Your stomach dropped when you heard the all too familiar and sweet melody of someone singing spanish melodies, echoing from your kitchen.

Yes. You must be dead.

You rounded the corner and the sight before you caused your saliva to go thick, hard to swallow. The house was dark, slivers of light bleeding in through slits in the blinds, cascading over a shimmering image: a shirtless Salamanca, hunched over your stove and flipping around a spatula. Uncontrollable tears collected at the edges of your eyes, spilling off, glinting in the little light. He was humming a song you only enjoyed because of him, because he would sing it all the time-Nacho would get annoyed and you would smile.

His bare back drew you to him and you nearly stumbled as you approached. Red rimmed your eyes, slightly bloodshot, you were still so weak and so exhausted. Your arms wrapped around Lalo and his warmth flooded you and you hadn't felt this safe since the last time you saw him. When he was around, you always felt safer, happier, like you could take on the world with him if need be. Your palms flattened on his stomach, all hard muscle beneath a pillowy layer of flesh. His free hand caressed and rested over yours and you body rose and fell with the deep breath he released.

"Sweet cielito," His words were husky and engraved with depth, your body shivered. He placed the spatula down, turned the dial down on the stove and slowly faced you. Your arms remained wrapped around him, you had to look up to see him gazing down at you with such fondness. At this proximity, you could make out the distinctions in his skin. There was a healed over bullet wound on his shoulder, another being a lengthy scar that stretched from his left pectoral to his opposite side. His skin was clear aside from the scar and a few dimples. There was a light spattering of hair across his chest that your chin met as you leaned into him. He cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the wetness that trailed down your skin. "I'm glad to see you awake."

"Am I..." Your breath hitched, "Am I dreaming?"

"No." He answered swiftly, eyebrows furrowing. "It's me. I'm here." You burrowed your face into his chest and released a sob that you had been holding in since you saw him. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his nose into your scalp. "Shhh," He soothed, cupping the back of your head and rocking lightly on his heels. "You've done so good. I'm proud of you."

"I missed you so much." With one hand on your head, the other reached for the pan of egg and he skillfully tossed them onto a plate.

"I know, I know." You moved easily for him, still connected as he navigated the kitchen. "You must eat. Get your rest while you can." He sighed and his lips pursed in dissapointment, "You'll have to be at the restaurant soon." Of course, you scarcely get a moment to experience this, to celebrate that he was still here and very much living. Because it was right back to business. He forcefully left your embrace, bringing the plate of eggs to the table, seating a fork next to it. "Eat." He didn't look at you, otherwise he would have noticed the somber look on your face.

"Won't you come with me?" You snorted, shaking your head. "You're alive." You stepped out in front of him, smiling up at him, although it wasn't entirely genuine. "This is good. Things will go back to the way they were and-"

"No." He stated sternly, wagging a finger in front of you. "No one can know I'm alive." You blinked at him. "Do you understand?" He waited for your reluctant nod, and then stepped past you. Your shoulders rose and fell with a breath, and you couldn't help the anger that swarmed you. It happened all at once. You couldn't keep going on like this, you didn't want to live your life like this.

"Maybe I don't want to go." He knows you will go. He knows the lengths you will go to make him proud. He knows you will do anything for him. You faced him, crossing your arms, albeit with a wince. He perched back against your counter, lifting a mug from it's surface to bring it to his lips. He sipped the coffee, released a satisfied huff and then licked his lips. All the while, his glare bore holes into you. "Why even come then? Why are you here?"

"I needed a place to stay for the night, but don't worry..." His voice devoid of any emotion. "I will be gone when you get back. As if I was never even here." And he didn't mention having saved your life, which was wild to you. If he hadn't had been there you'd probably be dead.

You didn't want him to leave. No! That was the last thing you wanted. He must had seen the distress on your face.

"Cielito," He shook his head, "Don't upset me. You've been doing so good. You're my favorite, keep it that way."

"You speak to me like I'm a toy..." Your voice shook, you held back more tears (if that was even possible), the lump in your throat made it harder to breath. "And you play with me like one too."

"Cielito," He growled, "Eat."

"I care about you," You stepped toward him, hands outstretched, you reached for him. "And you know it, and you don't care, right? Don't you care?" He stepped toward your hands, eyes growing fiercer and crazed. It scared you, but you forced yourself to be brave. "Talk to me about something other than just business. Tell me you feel the same. Tell me that you-"

"That's enough!" He snatched your wrist and yanked you to him, your wound ached, but you went to him all the same; you didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Your hands were mere centimeters from brushing his chin. "You are pushing too hard, going too far. This you would not understand."

"Then make me understand!" His hand grabbed your chin and smooshed your cheeks in a vice grip and then his lips were smashing into yours. You moaned, your now freed hand grappling onto his shoulder. He twisted you both till your back met with the counter and his pelvis pinned you in place. The kiss was strong and aggressive from the beginning; tongues intermingling, teeth clacking together. You whimpered for more, his grip on your opposite wrist guided your arm around his neck. Both of his hands dropped to your waist, palms caressing and squeezing and spanning all the expanse of flesh that he could touch.

Your lips parted, stuck like glue for the briefest of moments. You were breathless, but despite the intensity of that kiss, Eduardo appeared just as poised as he was before.

"I will come back to you. Just wait for me." He reassured, or at least you hoped it was reassurance. It did settle in your heart just a little, that everything would be okay, Lalo had it handled, you could wait for him.

"I'm always waiting for you, Eduardo."

"I know." He pressed his forehead to yours. "Wait for me a little longer."

#eduardo salamanca x reader #lalo salamanca x reader #better call saul #gender neutral reader #lalo salamanca #reader #bcs spoilers #I have no idea why it isn't showing up as a post for you guys #hope this works

[seeds-and-sins]

Wait for Me

Pairing: Eduardo “Lalo” Salamanca x GN!Reader

Rating: T (gorey descriptions-not overly gorey-bullet wound, so blood, lots of it, suggestive themes, kissing)

Description: Lalo Salamanca is dead and Nacho is on the run. For the time being, the Salamanca empire is left in your hands and you would die to defend it. You nearly do.

Author's Note: With my GN fics, I try to be as open and as general as possible. If at any point in time you guys are reading and you notice otherwise, please don't be afraid to let me know. I want everyone to enjoy these fics. :) Anywho, this takes place the same day Lalo plans on going after Gus. So yeah, the morning of that day.

Don't Say Goodbye

Eduardo 'Lalo' Salamanca was dead. You were sitting at a table in the El Michoacáno when one of the dealers came storming in for the usual meet time and told you. You didn't want to believe it at first, but not more than an hour later you found yourself surrounded by Salamanca dealers, bickering amongst one another, waiting for answers. Since Lalo and Nacho left for Mexico, you had been in charge. Now, the situation had changed darastically. Without Salamanca men on the street, watching over the business, things could get bad. The rest that followed you was a blur:

You slammed your hands down on the table as you stood, effectively silencing them.

"This changes nothing! We do everything we've been doing and more. We keep things moving."

"Says who?" One of them spat, the bald one with the gangly piercings all over his face.

"Says I." You growled, knowing that you needed to step up, knowing that you needed to make your authority clear. "Eduardo's last orders were that I remain in charge until Nacho returns. We've heard nothing about Nacho. Business continues as usual."

"We've heard plenty about Nacho." One of them shot out, finally making the rumors he had heard known, after waiting for so long. None of these idiots could be trusted. Pick one of them to take charge and the Salamanca empire, decades of hard work, will burn. "He betrayed Lalo. He's been a tratior this whole time."

"We don't know that for sure."

"And if it is true? What do we do?!" Lalo had called this one, Ocho Loco. He was a good friend of Nacho's, or at least a good acquintance, you understood his panic. Salamancas were dropping left and right, this was job security on the line.

"We keep doing what we do. That's final." They all stared at you, some glaring, some looking on with worry. "Do you all not want to get your money?!" Rolled eyes, groans, they didn't like following the leader to begin with, even if you were right. "We do what we do. Understood?" A cacophony of noises was your answer, and then they dispersed.

You dropped back into your seat, your face devoid of all of the emotions that were running through you.

You were afraid. You were heartbroken. You were angry. And there was no one to lean on. No one that you could trust. Visiting Tuco, or trying to get in contact with him in these trying times would be too dangerous. And Hector would see your weakness. The twins would come and kill you, surely, you would be seen as a fault the moment anyone saw you cracking under pressure. If you were going to make your mark, now was the time to do it. If you were going to prove yourself, this was the moment. That was what Lalo would have wanted.

Except, you hadn't anticipated things going south so fast...

Boom!

You slammed your body into your front door. Your fingers shook as you aggressively tried to slide the key into your front door.

"Come on. Come on. Come on." As soon as the door gave way, you entered swiftly and slammed it behind you. Red fingerprints marked up everywhere you touched. Your cell phone rung in your left pocket and as you stumbled into the black space of your living room. You grabbed the armrest of the couch and unceremoniously plopped into it. As the ringing sounded throughout the room, bouncing off the walls, your body fell flat and still. After a few seconds, you jolted upright and removed the phone from your pocket to answer. "What?!" You sounded breathless, downright ragged, chest heaving as you tried to calm yourself. You rubbed your eyes, but the blood on your fingers smeared. You dropped backward limply again, sitting upright this time. "Don't worry. I took care of the problem." You listened a few beats. "Like fuck am I gonna' tell you where I am. I will see you at the restaurant tomorrow, same time as always." You hung up, inhaling a deep breath through your nostrils. Your limbs fell at either side of you as the last of your energy flowed away, the phone slid from your grasp, you looked down at the damage: a bullet hole in the side and blood all over. Sweat coated you like a second layer of skin, droplets dribbling off your brow.

In your fading vision you saw a figure appear from your peripheal and you welcomed them completely when you realized who it was.

"Lalo." You cried, reaching out weakly toward him. That was enough to let you know that you were dying. That soon you would be with him, wherever the afterlife would take you. His fingers wrapped around yours and he rushed to your side, bringing your closed fist to his lips and the blood painted him. He felt so real, even though you felt like your body was bordering reality and hallucination.

"Cielito." His opposite began picking gently at the sticky clothing around your wound. "Let me help you."

"No. No. I-" Your breath hitched, "I can't live."

"Why?" His eyebrows furrowed and his handsome face went placcid, but you couldn't see all of it. The darkness was slowly edging at your vision and it was only getting worse.

"Because I want to be with you." His eyebrows softened and his lips turned up into that smile that you loved so much.

"Ahhh, cielito." He reached a hand out for your end table lamp and flicked it on. The both of you were drenched in hot light, your eyes squeezed shut for a moment. When you opened them in crescents, Eduardo's face was in full view to you. He was wearing smudged red around his lips from your blood, but he looked as handsome as he was the last time you saw him.

Something about him looked alive.

"If you are willing to die for me, then you can live for me too, ey?" Reluctantly, you nodded your head in a tired motion. You drooped in a heap, sluggish and slow in movement as your eyelids fluttered. Lalo's stern brows were furrowed as he inspected your wound, you couldn't feel the pain anymore, the throbbing had ceased. He snapped his fingers in front of you, you forced your eyes open. "Stay awake for me, cielito. You can rest after I heal you." Before you could protest you were being lifted into his strong arms.

All of this must had been some sick dream, concocted by your mind to appease the guilt of your failures. He carried you into the kitchen, objects plummeted to the floor as he stopped at your rectangular dining room table and knocking everything off. He flattened you on it's surface, your fingers slid from him when he rushed away. He was gone for a few beats, you found yourself slipping again. He returned with a pillow, towels, a bowl of water, napkins. The light dangling above your table was like a halo around his head. Would a man like him even so much as get a glimpse of what heaven looked like? The pillow was unceremoniously shoved under your head. He rolled your shirt up, he lifted your torso to help pull the clothing over your head. He cared more for the wound than anything else at the moment.

"This is bad."

"You should see the other guy." You weakly snorted, a smirk briefly flitted across his lips and then strict concentration once more.

"First aid kit?"

"Under the sink, my bathroom." He left your sight again, he was fast to return. He opened the kit alongside you, carelessly pouring the bowl of water all over your wound. You hissed, but it was more reactionary to his actions than to the pain. There still was no pain. Your vision was fading. Your head pounded. "You've done good, cielito. Hang in there for me, okay?" Blood continued running from the bullet hole. He reached inside with his thumb and forefinger, wiggling his fingers around, stretching the skin till he found the bullet. He held it up in the light to make sure it was whole and then tossed it over his shoulder. Your eyes closed shut completely, hands limp at your sides. "Hey." He slapped your cheek, "Awake. Remember."

"Eduardo, please. Why do you torment me this way?" You whimpered. "Let me go." He stopped everything he was doing, time fell still. He hunched over you and brushed his bloody palm on your cheek. His dark eyes bled sadness, while his expression was firm and stoic.

"If you die, how am I going to show you how much you matter to me? Hmm?" You didn't know how to respond and it was growing more and more difficult to stay lucid. "Stay alive, mi amor." His voice faded. "Stay alive."

...

You woke up to softness and a dull pain in your side that was dwarfed by your comfort. You could sleep longer, your eyes drifted shut and your body sunk into the plush mattress of your bed. When you finally looked around, it was to the sight of your room and you thought that you must be dead. You couldn't have survived last night and Lalo wouldn't have come to see you if you hadn't somehow met him in the afterlife. You slowly sat up with a groan and your ears tuned in to the sound of sizzling. It proved difficult to get up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and taking a moment to stand. The room spun and you held your hands out to steady yourself. Once you felt confident in your position, you moved forqard, using the door frame and walls to keep yourself upright.

Your stomach dropped when you heard the all too familiar and sweet melody of someone singing spanish melodies, echoing from your kitchen.

Yes. You must be dead.

You rounded the corner and the sight before you caused your saliva to go thick, hard to swallow. The house was dark, slivers of light bleeding in through slits in the blinds, cascading over a shimmering image: a shirtless Salamanca, hunched over your stove and flipping around a spatula. Uncontrollable tears collected at the edges of your eyes, spilling off, glinting in the little light. He was humming a song you only enjoyed because of him, because he would sing it all the time-Nacho would get annoyed and you would smile.

His bare back drew you to him and you nearly stumbled as you approached. Red rimmed your eyes, slightly bloodshot, you were still so weak and so exhausted. Your arms wrapped around Lalo and his warmth flooded you and you hadn't felt this safe since the last time you saw him. When he was around, you always felt safer, happier, like you could take on the world with him if need be. Your palms flattened on his stomach, all hard muscle beneath a pillowy layer of flesh. His free hand caressed and rested over yours and you body rose and fell with the deep breath he released.

"Sweet cielito," His words were husky and engraved with depth, your body shivered. He placed the spatula down, turned the dial down on the stove and slowly faced you. Your arms remained wrapped around him, you had to look up to see him gazing down at you with such fondness. At this proximity, you could make out the distinctions in his skin. There was a healed over bullet wound on his shoulder, another being a lengthy scar that stretched from his left pectoral to his opposite side. His skin was clear aside from the scar and a few dimples. There was a light spattering of hair across his chest that your chin met as you leaned into him. He cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the wetness that trailed down your skin. "I'm glad to see you awake."

"Am I..." Your breath hitched, "Am I dreaming?"

"No." He answered swiftly, eyebrows furrowing. "It's me. I'm here." You burrowed your face into his chest and released a sob that you had been holding in since you saw him. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his nose into your scalp. "Shhh," He soothed, cupping the back of your head and rocking lightly on his heels. "You've done so good. I'm proud of you."

"I missed you so much." With one hand on your head, the other reached for the pan of egg and he skillfully tossed them onto a plate.

"I know, I know." You moved easily for him, still connected as he navigated the kitchen. "You must eat. Get your rest while you can." He sighed and his lips pursed in dissapointment, "You'll have to be at the restaurant soon." Of course, you scarcely get a moment to experience this, to celebrate that he was still here and very much living. Because it was right back to business. He forcefully left your embrace, bringing the plate of eggs to the table, seating a fork next to it. "Eat." He didn't look at you, otherwise he would have noticed the somber look on your face.

"Won't you come with me?" You snorted, shaking your head. "You're alive." You stepped out in front of him, smiling up at him, although it wasn't entirely genuine. "This is good. Things will go back to the way they were and-"

"No." He stated sternly, wagging a finger in front of you. "No one can know I'm alive." You blinked at him. "Do you understand?" He waited for your reluctant nod, and then stepped past you. Your shoulders rose and fell with a breath, and you couldn't help the anger that swarmed you. It happened all at once. You couldn't keep going on like this, you didn't want to live your life like this.

"Maybe I don't want to go." He knows you will go. He knows the lengths you will go to make him proud. He knows you will do anything for him. You faced him, crossing your arms, albeit with a wince. He perched back against your counter, lifting a mug from it's surface to bring it to his lips. He sipped the coffee, released a satisfied huff and then licked his lips. All the while, his glare bore holes into you. "Why even come then? Why are you here?"

"I needed a place to stay for the night, but don't worry..." His voice devoid of any emotion. "I will be gone when you get back. As if I was never even here." And he didn't mention having saved your life, which was wild to you. If he hadn't had been there you'd probably be dead.

You didn't want him to leave. No! That was the last thing you wanted. He must had seen the distress on your face.

"Cielito," He shook his head, "Don't upset me. You've been doing so good. You're my favorite, keep it that way."

"You speak to me like I'm a toy..." Your voice shook, you held back more tears (if that was even possible), the lump in your throat made it harder to breath. "And you play with me like one too."

"Cielito," He growled, "Eat."

"I care about you," You stepped toward him, hands outstretched, you reached for him. "And you know it, and you don't care, right? Don't you care?" He stepped toward your hands, eyes growing fiercer and crazed. It scared you, but you forced yourself to be brave. "Talk to me about something other than just business. Tell me you feel the same. Tell me that you-"

"That's enough!" He snatched your wrist and yanked you to him, your wound ached, but you went to him all the same; you didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Your hands were mere centimeters from brushing his chin. "You are pushing too hard, going too far. This you would not understand."

"Then make me understand!" His hand grabbed your chin and smooshed your cheeks in a vice grip and then his lips were smashing into yours. You moaned, your now freed hand grappling onto his shoulder. He twisted you both till your back met with the counter and his pelvis pinned you in place. The kiss was strong and aggressive from the beginning; tongues intermingling, teeth clacking together. You whimpered for more, his grip on your opposite wrist guided your arm around his neck. Both of his hands dropped to your waist, palms caressing and squeezing and spanning all the expanse of flesh that he could touch.

Your lips parted, stuck like glue for the briefest of moments. You were breathless, but despite the intensity of that kiss, Eduardo appeared just as poised as he was before.

"I will come back to you. Just wait for me." He reassured, or at least you hoped it was reassurance. It did settle in your heart just a little, that everything would be okay, Lalo had it handled, you could wait for him.

"I'm always waiting for you, Eduardo."

"I know." He pressed his forehead to yours. "Wait for me a little longer."

#eduardo salamanca x reader #lalo salamanca x reader #better call saul #gender neutral reader #lalo salamanca #reader #bcs spoilers

[seeds-and-sins]

The Only Truth Series - There is No Truth

Pairing: Oz “The Penguin” Cobblepot x F!Reader

Rating: T (Curse words, adult themes, mutual pining)

Description: In the beginning, barely months into your undercover gig at the Iceberg Lounge, Oz and you have already grown so close. You are conflicted.

Author’s Note: I promised I would post little one-shots here and there as they came to me. As I post more, I will present everything in one big timeline so that the story is a bit more comprehensive. Anyways, if you haven’t read into the future, the link is posted below under ‘First’. This part takes place in the past, but I suppose it can be read and considered separately.

First

Third

Your shift was almost over when Oz called you up to his office. It was not unusual for him to call upon you. After dropping the former floor manager like a sack of potatoes, and placing you in their stead, Oz and you had gotten much closer. You were glad for it-at first-because it brought you that much closer to your goals in figuring out Intel about the Iceberg Lounge and the going ons of Falcone and Cobblepot and the crime syndicate.

Now, it made you uncomfortable.

Oz, not knowing you were a cop to begin with, was so sweet to you and he treated you with such respect and fondness. Once he placed his trust in you, he was sold on all of you. You figured he didn't do that often with others, asking for your advice and constantly giving you quite major tasks to complete. You worked your butt off to keep that trust intact. It was just overwhelming, because you really enjoyed the praise and the admiration, and you knew you shouldn't. Oz liked you. Oz liked you A LOT. He confided you in over everything and anything and he never relented.

He bought you flowers, took you out to candlelit dinners, you had never seen him treat anyone else the same, and you were starting to wonder what exactly his intentions were.

If he asked you to have sex with him, if he tried to turn you into one of his sugar babies, or trophy girlfriends, what would happen if you denied him? You would never get this close again, and you scarcely thought anyone else would.

So, you put on a happy face, because you thought it was the only choice you had at the moment. You didn't want to disrupt this entire investigation, all because you had flown a little too close to the sun. You tried to keep it friendly and professional, without leading him on, while simultaneously battling with your inner desire to give into all that he was offering.

You should be disgusted by him. You should hate him. He was a criminal. How many of your fellow cops had died by his hands? Or rather, his demands? Or the demands of his boss? He was a monster.

If he knew who you truly were, all of this kindness and sweetness would mean nothing. He didn't care about the real you, he didn't know the real you.

But you couldn't help but start to miss him, he was so warm and jovial and truly a testament in opposition of all the horrible stories you had heard about the man. When you were away from him, you thought about him. You often wondered what he was doing, or if he was thinking about you. These were feelings that did not fit well with the objective of your mission. You weren’t there to have feelings. you shouldn’t. But it was becoming more and more difficult with each passing day.

When you proceeded through the curtain of beads that created some semblance of privacy into his office, you were being bombarded by brooding limbs and a massive build.

"OZ!" You gasped in surprise, his arms locked around you, holding you in place and his scarred lips laid purchase upon your supple cheeks. You hated how much you actually liked it, how the first thing that came into your mind was that this was pleasant. His lips smacked again and again and you feigned a laugh, pressing your hands to his chest and lightly pushing him away. "My goodness, what's gotten you so happy?" He didn't release you, and so you were stuck in his embrace as he grinned down at you and there was a certain charm to that smile that spread a contagious happiness unto you, as much as you tried to contain it.

"It's cause for celebration, honey." He spun you around and it was comical, paired with his little waddle, from his injured knee, but you held on for dear life. Don't let his looks deceive, Oz had a very muscled figure. There was the soft over layer of fat and flesh, but beneath it all he could surely show some strength. "Since I hired you, you've saved me twenty big ones alone."

"Oh," You shrugged, his hands reluctantly rubbing down the length of your arms as he withdrew, clinging to your fingers in a last chance to keep you connected. "Are you sure it was me?"

"Ahh, such a humble little thing. Look at this. Look." He hurried you to the couch, plopping you unceremoniously down beside him. He procured his big book, of accounting and profits and all sort of things involving the money that fluctuated through the Iceberg Lounge. Surprisingly, he was willing to let you look into something so exclusive and vital to his business. More proof that Oz Cobblepot trusted you dearly. It struck a pang of guilt straight through you that you quickly had to stamp down. In your collective laps, he opened the book and flipped through the various pages, till he landed on what he was looking for and pointed at an excel table detailing profit margins for the entire club. "You see, baby. You did this. You should be proud of yourself." You bit your bottom lip shyly, not particularly keen on all of the attention, but the praise did make you light up. You shouldn't be so happy, you were fueling a criminal empire by simply keeping undercover. "I'll have to admit, all the changes you made after I promoted you..." He shrugged, cocking his head down at you. "I was a little skeptical, but you proved me wrong, didn't ya?" You ran your fingers over the page, now wasn't the time to stare too long-it was suspicious. You really don't even know how this was possible. Since you started working at the club, everything you did was just, 'fuck around and find out'. You didn’t know the slightest bit about the night life industry aside from the cheesy videos you had watched on YouTube in preparation of your role at the club. To think that you had made such an influence, in such a short time, despite your lack of experience, was startling.

You couldn’t risk looking too surprise, you were supposed to be a confident businesswoman.

"Well, if you didn't let me make those changes, then none of this would have been possible." You smiled up at him, he tutted under your chin, returning the book to the table and closing it.

"I'm taking you out tonight, hmm? I already made reservations, we're going to the Ocelot." He rose, buttoning up his suit as he did, name dropping a place so extravagant and then slowly walking away as if it was by any means normal.

"The Ocelot?!" You exclaimed, following not far behind as he moved to his vanity and began to put on some of his jewelry. You grabbed his shoulder and squeezed his arm to get his attention. Not that you didn't have it already, but he was very caught up in the excitement of it all. "You can't be serious, Oz. You're going to spend the same amount of money that you were just celebrating, over dinner?!"

"Big Whoop. Let me treat ya'." He smirked down at you, then faced you again, cupping your cheek. "You deserve the best, you know that." You softened, unable to shake the feelings that he incited in you, especially when he was staring at you like that. Like you were the only thing he cared about. It was too much all at once, all the time, with him.

"Oz..." You held his hand. "I-I-I just-"

"Please." If you said 'no', you knew he would be crushed. You were certain someone who carried himself with so much confidence, the slightest bit of rejection would damage his self esteem instantly.

"Okay." You chuckled, he didn't stop himself when he ducked down to your height and pecked your lips. You froze up immediately and he made no time to gage your reaction before he was rushing past you, grabbing his coat off the nearby rack, and bellowing that he had a few things to finish.

"I'll meet you outside, 'kay. I have to go tie a few loose ends and then we'll be free to go."

You were left behind to think about all of the implications that came with that chaste, thoughtless kiss. It was soft and sweet, part of you craved for more and the other part of you screamed that you were too close to the sun. You should ditch Oz altogether and head straight to the station, you had enough information; a few name drops and witnessed drug transactions. That would be enough, right? Why proceed further into the darkness, further into danger?

No.

Something else was going on here. With Maroni gone, the criminal underworld should be struggling, but it wasn't. Business flourished here, at the center of it all, the Iceberg Lounge. So many people had died because of this world, because of their fortunes. You had come so close, closer than anyone had ever come, and probably closer than anyone would ever be.

This entire investigation sat on your shoulders and you couldn't give up now. Not after everything you had done.

Begrudgingly, you gathered up your things in the dressing room and headed to the outside of the club. Oz was most likely going to settle some things with Falcone first before heading out for the night, so you expected you would be waiting for a little bit.

Before spilling outside into the chilly Gotham air, you picked up a short conversation with Max, one of the twins. Considering Max and Charlie were two of Oswald's most trusted henchmen, you often went to them to covertly pry for information. Sometimes you would hit a home run, be it a new location for where Oz would sell his drops, or a new drug route for Falcone. Without offense, Max and Charlie weren't the brightest bulbs in the bunch and they talked all too easily.

You bid Max a farewell, explaining that you would be leaving with Oz for the night. Luckily, he didn't comment or send you any sort of expression that jolted tension through you. You couldn't handle the idea of rumors traveling through the club, rumors could damage your reputation and they could also damage your success thus far in this operation. By name dropping Oz, maybe you guaranteed that Max wouldn't say anything. Oz and you had gone out many times in the past, but this felt different. You knew you weren’t the only one who could see that.

You wrapped your jacket around you tight to ward off the harsh winds. Gotham could get really cold at night, even in the summer, and it was absolutely freezing outside. You weren't in the right attire for a trip to the Ocelot, one of the most prestigious restaurants in all of Gotham. It was owned by the Wayne family, or rather the younger living heir Bruce Wayne. You had only ever seen it's expensive décor and lavish dining experience from the outside, but you had one day dreamed of being able to have that experience for yourself. You never thought you would, considering everything was worth an arm and a leg and a kidney and maybe an eye or a heart transplant. In fact, being undercover had opened you up to experiencing a lot more of the lavish things in life. On a cop’s salary you could barely afford what you needed, under the Penguin’s wing you could have anything you wanted. Needless to say, you'd thought you needed to give up your entire life in order to eat at the Ocelot. Now you were going to go there with the same man you were trying to put behind bars.

Ironic, you supposed. If Oz knew who you really were? Well, you probably would be dead by now.

"Hey, you!" You swear you saw your life flash before your eyes when you spotted him, approaching you, outside the Iceberg Lounge, like an old friend. "My goodness! Is that really you?! It's been what? Eight months? Nine, maybe."

"Kenzie! Oh, gosh!" Your eyes kept nervously flitting back to the metal door leading into the Iceberg Lounge. You felt a heavy weight on your chest, it was as if you couldn't breathe. Could this job get anymore stress inducing? "I must admit..." You feigned a laugh, "I have been very busy."

"With what exactly? Huh?" Kenzie had a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, crossing his arms with an arrogance and proudness about him. It aggravated you even further. It was the reason you took this job to begin with. To prove them all wrong. To be better.

You were a nobody. You walked the beat, kept your badge on your chest, you weren't looked at twice, you were looked down on. When the Chief asked for a volunteer for a secretive undercover operation, you felt like you needed to be the first one with your hand up. To prove them all wrong. To be better.

Clearly, you had made the right choice. No one had made it nearly this far. You were doing so good at this point, that the Chief was determined to keep you in as long as possible. What lengths could you go with the success you had? This little interaction could ruin it all.

"Don't think I really need to be telling you 'bout my business..." You gritted your teeth, adjusting your dress down as far as it would go out of discomfort. The dress you wore often in this line of work, short and tight-fitting, made you feel all too exposed in front of this asshole. "Hey? What are you doing here?" The immediate shift in his posture told you everything, and to some extent it lessened your worries. He was a double agent, a crooked cop, a pig paid to dig holes by the man himself. You should have known. It disgusted you, knowing his betrayal, but also, in realizing that your own betrayal was just as bad. The difference being, it was coming from the other side.

You had it a lot worse than he did in this moment. You were on the wrong turf, this wasn't your playground. If you were found out here, you could get killed. Who was to find him out here? No one. This was his home base. If you were both at the GCPD, this would be a completely different story.

"Haha, very funny, toots. You can't tell me your business, I can't tell you mine." You knew it was a risk: at any point in time, Oz could come through that door and your cover would be broken. Kenzie would lay it all out, calling you by your real name, reminiscing over stupid one sided interactions, half of which you don't even think happened. And in Oz knowing that Kenzie was a cop on his payroll, he would put the pieces together and realize you were one too. You acted fast and snatched Kenzie up by the lapels of his brown leather jacket, with a gasp his cigarette dropped from his lips. The momentary surprise was killed with a mischievous smirk and he gave you a once over. "You want a piece of this. Don't make me force you to ask nicely, honey." Your eyes rolled hard and you gripped tighter.

"You think I'm an idiot, don't you? You got bought out by Cobblepot, hmm? That's it, right?" His mustached lip twitched into a scowl, he struggled slightly from your vice grip. The height difference proved difficult, but you were confident you could still knock him on his ass if you needed to. Even in this dress.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" You raised an eyebrow at him and he squeezed his eyes shut in aggravation. His larger and stronger hands lifted to grab your forearms. "What are ya' gonna'do 'bout it? I've got more years on you than you could know."

"I'm undercover, you dipshit. One wrong move and I'll relay the message."

"Undercover?" He spat, glaring down at you. "For fucking-"

Creak!

The both of them flinched, immediately releasing each other as if they had been burned. Hobbling from the metal door appeared Oz, his eyes immediately narrowed on the both of you. Your heart jumped into your throat when you thought he might have heard what Kenzie said. You probably should have taken the stealthier approach, but if Kenzie was smart he would understand the situation here. If he ratted to Oz, then you would rat to the GCPD and he could say goodbye to that pension and that job and that stability. While he played goon well into the night, his day job would be gone and Oz would probably give him up knowing that the cops were already so close to home. You wouldn't be surprised if he served some time for his betrayal too: bribery was a criminal offense, for sure.

"Ey, sweetheart..." He greeted softly, narrowed eyes flitting between Kenzie and you. From the corner of your eye, you watched Kenzie awkwardly shift his feet. "Did I-uh-interrupt something?" He asked cautiously, you glanced at Kenzie and shrugged, sending him your harshest glare with your eyes alone.

"Not at all! We were just talking." You crossed your arms and anxiously sidestepped backward, so you weren't so close. "This is Harry-Or..." You pretended not to know his name, shooting him an expectant look.

"O-Oh, yeah!" He blurted out, "Just Kenzie."

"Yeah-Yeah-Yeah, I know Kenzie." Oz took the empty space beside you, almost assertive and dominant right off the bat. You gulped as he gave Kenzie a sideways glance. "What were you talking about, huh?"

"Uh~"

"The weather!" You practically screeched, forcing an all too bright smile up at Oz. He didn't seem all that convinced, or pleased. Your stomach twisted into knots.

"Kenzie..." Oz's voice was low and rough, commanding respect and authority.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Get back to fucking work. I don't pay you to slack." He grumbled, Kenzie nodded vigorously and responded with a choppy, "Yes, Sir." He scurried back inside without sending you a second glance.

You felt a second of relief before you realized how quiet it was all of a sudden, Oz was frigid and still and he wasn't uttering a single word. He was giving you the side eye, the sort of glare he might give when he was absolutely pissed.

Fuck. You fucked up.

"If you want to go join him, feel free. I can go have dinner by myself." Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you cocked your head at him. You hated how your hand instinctively raised to rest on his forearm.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm not stupid. You two know each other, s'no point in lying about it." Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. You were fucked beyond imagine. You swore sweat was pooling off the edge of your brow.

"What do you mean?" You repeated again, because you honestly had no idea what to say. You were a deer in headlights. Oz stood taller and frowned, shaking his head.

"Look, honey, if you're taken, then tell me. Don't lead me the fuck on." He pushed past you, your touch drifting from his the further away he went. He procured a chain of keys from his coat pocket, disappearing around the corner just as you rushed after him.

"Oz! Please! I don't understand. I just met him!"

"Baby, now you're really angering me..." He stopped and turned to face you, you didn't halt your hurried footing in time and you were bumping into his broad chest. For someone with a waddle to his step, handicapped knee, the man could move when he wanted to. The expression on his face was dark and the little lighting on this stretch of street, out beside the entrance to the Lounge, it didn't help much in emphasizing the deep lines that scoured his face. It only made him look more menacing, but you refused to fear him. Not now. Your biggest fright was in thinking that perhaps your cover had been blown. "You were clinging to him. When I left the club, I saw it all." You gobbed like a fish, "What? Is this some game to you?" Hushed. Crackly. These were the words that described an uncertain Oz. In this moment, he was very uncertain, and brutally beaten inside.

He would have killed you right away if he knew the truth, but now you were starting to see that it was only rejection that filled his beating heart. He was oblivious to your true nature.

He thought you were with Kenzie. He thought you were dating someone. He thought you were taken.

This was your chance to set the record straight. To let Oz know that you couldn't pursue a relationship with him. It would certainly make this operation easier for you, but was that really what you wanted? You shouldn't want to do the opposite: tell him how strongly you feel for him. And using your job as an excuse? Being caught frolicking with the boss? Wouldn't do much good for your cover. Saying no to your boss?? It wouldn't end well.

Again. This was a difficult situation no matter what choice you made.

But you needed to make a choice.

You put rational thought aside, and you made it.

You stepped closer into him, the rebound of your accidental bump into him didn't leave much space between you both already.

"He was coming onto me." You lied through your teeth, "So, I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt..." You snatched up the collar of his coat and yanked him down to your level. "And I told him I wasn't interested, and I probably would have kneed him between the legs if you hadn't shown up..." You turned your head down slightly, Oz's beady eyes were trained on you like a hawk to their prey. "And I didn't want you to know because I thought you'd be upset." Wrong bird. Hawks weren’t so soft. Hawks weren’t so forgiving.

There was a stark silence that followed. It was agonizing to say the least.

"Oz..." You continued, slowly releasing him. "I'm not with anyone. I'm not leading you on. I'm just-" I'm not who you think I am. I'm afraid. I'm falling for someone I shouldn't be. "You're my boss. We shouldn't."

You awaited a response, a movement, a noise of approval, a noise of disapproval, something.

"Well?!" You snapped, "Can't you just please say-" He grabbed you and yanked you into a searing kiss. The ridges in his lips, healed scar tissue, were surprising soft and smooth. Your hands cupped his cheeks, one thumb subconsciously caressing in circles on the thicker edges of his scar line. The kiss deepened, tongues intermingling. His taste was bold bourbon and Cuban cigars, paired with the smell of sharp cologne that flooded your senses. He was turning you, closing you in against the nearest concrete wall and you were trapped when he pressed you taut to the surface. He locked you in with his hulking figure, broad and big and although plump, firm and sturdy.

He pulled back first, pressing his forehead down to yours and you could feel the breath of his smile off his lips. You exchanged a wave of heated exhales, one of your hands held his shoulder as an anchor and the other continued to brush along the contours of his lesser scarred cheek.

"I'm sorry..." He huffed out, sounding genuinely ashamed for his outburst. "I can't stand it anymore."

"St-St-" You gulped, that kiss literally took the breath out of you. Your heart was beating a million times per second and it felt like your entire insides were melted. "Stand what?" His pointed, jagged nose brushed yours and he sighed.

"I know I ain't much, but I'd give ya' everything you ever wanted. You would never wish for nothin'." The husky pit of his voice was doing something to you, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek so gentle and so tender that you must had been in an alternate reality. "Seeing the way other guys look at you, seeing you-" He swallowed, "Seeing you away from me. It doesn't feel right." Now it was your turn to be quiet, taking in those words as he intermittently placed kisses along your cheeks and jawline, up to the slope of your jaw that fit in junction with your ear. You closed your eyes, hands sliding up and wrapping around his neck. "Tell me to stop and I'll look the other way. Tell. Me. To. Stay..." He grunted each word into your ear, hands fisting into the hips of your coat and you pressed your cheek into his. "And I'll be yours forever."

"Are you sure?" You didn't realize the tears streaming down your cheeks. You wanted it so badly. After all these months, trying so hard to do your job, you just wanted to give in and take a break.

When you both first met each other, it was almost like, neither of you were really interested. There were plenty of fish in the sea-Or why even fish at all? On your end, it went much deeper. You shouldn't be falling for the same person you were trying to incriminate. On his end, he was determined to not date any of the women that worked under him. But it was Oz's vulnerable side that reeled you, it was your ferocity that made Oz intrigued.

You didn't even know how to manage a club, but somehow, within a two months you had taken the spot of the former manager and you had gained the respect of your fellow employees. Pretty soon, Oz was paying attention. And it was the sweet things that he did for you that made it so hard to hate him otherwise. You would forget what he had done and put your own desires ahead of you. That was how you ended up here:

Maybe you spent too much time with him.

Maybe you laughed too much when he cracked a joke.

And when he spoke, you listened a little too closely.

What was more important to you now? Oz? Or your entire career? Gotham City? Or Love? 

Was it worth it?

"Am I sure?" He asked, a lilt to his voice of disbelief, "Course I'm sure. Not a single hint of doubt," He pulled back enough to pinch your chin and draw you back into his gaze, that flickered in the little light. "You sure?" You smiled, genuinely, and nodded your head.

"Let's go eat. I'm starving." You were the first one to say it.

And the searing kiss continued once more.

The happiness didn't last too long, when you realized what all of this meant.

There was no honor to the things you did.

#oswald copplepot #oz cobblepot #oz cobblepot x reader #the batman 2022 #batman 2022 #the penguin #carmine falcone #female reader

[seeds-and-sins]

Temporary - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit (SMUT! SMUT! FILTHY SMUT! CURSE WORDS)

Description: Ghost and you get caught in a blizzard. You seek shelter in an abandoned cabin. One couch, little warmth, you resort to each other. - Please see OG Post in attached link ^^^^

Tagged: @lolcaca​ , @udonnoodz , @ghostslittleslut​

Author’s Note: @ghostslittleslut​  gave me such great inspiration with their little blurb. I couldn’t help myself, I had to write for it. I hope it lives up to the feelings that their post incited in me. Gosh! I love me some Ghosty material. 

You were hot. Super hot. On location in Murmansk, Russia. Stashed away in a cabin that was perhaps no more than ten by ten. Behind enemy lines. Five clicks from the mission objective.

Moments ago Soap had called in. Blizzard on the way, he said. Exercise caution. Ghost didn't take any chances. The both of you were too close to the enemy for comfort. He grabbed you by the collar and lightly tugged you in the direction of what appeared to be an abandoned cabin. Through the hazy wind gusts that burned your cheeks and the sheets of snow falling from the sky, it's silhouette beckoned to you in the distance. As much as you wanted to get this mission over with, you needed shelter.

Ghost had made it known to the others that your recon was going to be postponed till the storm had passed. Part of you was relieved, the other part of you was still wound tight like a rubber band. While Ghost was comming with Soap, he had put you in charge of starting the fire. You were trying your hardest, but your hands were shaking and your teeth were chattering and your whole body felt like you were sitting in an ice box. If you thought about it, you were. Murmansk was on the North side of the Artic Circle. This was the coldest place you had ever been to in your entire life, it made sense that you were having a hard time.

On another note, you were a soldier and Ghost relied on you. You needed to get your shit together. How were you supposed to shoot straight when you couldn't even start a fire? A simple fire?!

Heavy thumps approached you, drawing closer and closer till you felt a brilliant warmth electrify your right side. Ghost had crouched down beside you, gloved fingers reaching out to collect the flint and steel from your trembling fingers. You met his gaze, he was quiet and stoic, the mask gave nothing away and you could never guess what was going through his head. But his eyes spoke volumes to the words he never spoke. You could almost hear him, at the back of your head, get your shit together, poppy.

His attention turned to the firepit, you tucked your gloved hands under your armpits. Your entire body was shaking violently and you weren't able to control it. Sparks lit up your face, clicks echoing in the silence, and soon a tiny flame lit. Your eyes followed Ghost as he entered your field of view completely, leaning in toward the ball of fuzzy light. With one hand he pulled his mask halfway up his face, his lips were plush and his chin was doused in stubble. He blew gently at the flame and it flickered deeply, spreading along the shredded wood and tattered cloth you had gathered. Like a trance you followed him back to his former posture, where he was poised in a low crouch and his mask was pulled down. The fire illuminated a part of him, darker shadows molding with crevices of bunched up fabric, the caved in sockets of his eyes, the shape of his nose. The other half was a pitch black abyss, with nothing but a reflective glimmer in his eye. And he stared at you.

You held his gaze as firmly as you could, but you were having a hard time even forming a coherent thought.

"We need to warm up." He spoke lowly, voice scratchy and coarse from the cold weather.

"I-I can-"

"No." He stood up and stalked toward a couch at the corner of the cabin. It looked old and worn down, dirty and abused. "You stay right 'der and look pretty." As if it weighed nothing, he easily maneuevered it closer to the fire. The wooden legs creaked and it screeched angrily against the floor as he shoved it. You would have been more concerned if not for the loud whistling of the wind. There was no noise the enemy could hear with the storm harshly thrashing about. You huddled closer to the fire and inhaled a deep breath.

"How long d-d-do you think the storm will last?"

"Few hours. It's gon' get colder." You scoffed, you just wanted to get back to the safety of your home, in your warm bed, with your dog and your cat and an excessive amount of sweets laid out around you.

"I don't know why I came." You muttered, mostly to yourself, you hadn't anticipated him responding. He waited a bit, the walls creaked with give from the growing winds and he was not quiet in whatever task he had started busying himself with behind you.

"Glad ya' did." Your lips were frozen shut, you were too surprised to reply. Ghost kept to himself; he hardly spoke unless his words pertained to the mission and you hadn't known him to be a man of emotion. The most you had seen from him could be found in the little interactions between Soap and him. The two of them were colleagues, friends, brothers even, and it was only Soap that could really ever get Ghost to laugh or show even the slightest bit of something aside from a stern stoicism. You had deduced long ago that your impression of him was built around the fact that you hadn't known him for more than a few months. Where his team mates spoke quite fondly of him, you had scarcely seen the side of him that they knew.

This mission had honestly been the closest the two of you had ever been. And it was given to you by Soap, who claimed that Ghost and you shared a similar knack for attention to detail. He sent you both from the safehouse with the intention of getting details on the nearby enemy base. He seemed very confident in you both, you didn't want to let him down.

"W-W-" You huffed in annoyance at your condition, clearing your throat and shifting to gather yourself. "Why?"

"You need me to tell ya' what ya' should already know?" He was paying attention, but the tone in his voice told you he wasn't all that involved. Did you mention you were also trying to impress Ghost? You wanted him to trust you, you wanted him to feel like he could rely on you, and so far, you hadn't done a very good job. "Well?" He prodded, wanting an answer to his question and wanting it now.

"No. But it's nice t-to hear it." Screw this weather. You were in three thick layers and they hadn't done you any good. Not even the fire was doing a good job at this point.

"You're smart..." He began, you heard several distinct noises follow. "You're fast..." Bump. Shuffle. Bump. The thumping was light, not footsteps, but the cold outweighed your curiosity to glance over your shoulder and take a peak. "You've got fire in ya', dat's for sure. But you don't give yurself 'nough credit. You don't trust yurself', hmm?" He read right through you. It was true. You second guessed yourself, constantly overthought every move, and although you had come this far-making it into the 141 with honorable credentials-your doubt was bound to be your end.

"I don't want to mess up." You sighed, burying your chin into your forearms that crossed around you.

"Don' think so much, poppy." Clink. Jingle. Clink. Your eyebrows furrowed and curiosity had made way once more. "Now..." He grunted and the couch creaked. When you glanced over your shoulder, you were met with the most shocking sight of your entire life. Not even the cold could keep you from jumping to the feet.

"GHOST! What are you-"

"Shhh." He had removed all of his gear and all of his clothes, save for his boxers, his mask, and a pair of lengthy black socks. Your heart had literally pounded it's way up into your throat, you felt the cold air was no longer the reason you were struggling to catch your breath. With the survival supplies in his pack, he had used the thermal blankets and his puffy large winter layers to make a nest. His body was splayed along the length of the couch, feet dangling comedically off the edge of the armrest. His hands were propped behind his head and the longer you looked, the more you felt like you were going to pass out. If it was warmer, you would be panting like a dog in heat.

Ghost was big. Everything about him was big. He towered over you, his msssive build filling space around you like a shadow. But you had only ever known him in colder climates. Russia had been your designation for months. And so, you had never seen him in anything less than two layers of thick long sweaters and cargo pants. Without clothing, he was just as big. He was muscular, cut to perfection like a diamond, sheets and sheets of hard muscle. The ridges of his biceps like mountains, hairy chest and armpits on full display, a trail of dark hairs following the expanse of pillowy abs, down into...

The cold was now no longer the only thing making it hard to think. Ghost had taken your breath away and he had simultaneously turned your brain into mush. Now you were openly gawking at a rather impressive bulge that was hidden delicately beneath a pair of white boxer shorts. His legs were gorgeous, thighs as sculpted as the rest of him, but it was really where they met at the center that made your heart skip six beats over. Ghost was large everywhere so you shouldn't be surprised, but when a man looked like him and when a man like him looked like he had a freaking oversized molotov in his trousers; What was one supposed to do?! What was one supposed to say?!

Your subconscious reaction, after looking for far too long, was to cup your palms to your red hot face and turn the other way.

"Dove, stop messing around and come 'ere."

"Ghost!" You breathed in a gasp, absolute shock overwhelming you. "You're going to get cold! What are you doin'?!"

"We need ta' use body heat."

"You're naked!"

"Nah, not really." Oh gosh, you weren't cold anymore-Well, no-You were still frigid to the touch, but this event had lit up your insides like a fuckin' christmas tree.

"Ghost!" You were stunned to the point you couldn't do much more than repeatedly sound off his call sign. "Ghost! Oh my gosh-I just-Ghost!"

"Stop it." He firmly chided, and you didn't know what was happening until you were being forcefully turned to face him. He was standing over you, his hands grabbing at your vest and your gear and removing each item and piece of fabric without so much as flinching. "Grow up. If ya' stay like 'dis yur gon' be a fuckin' ice cube." Your eyes travelled across the length of his body and then you had to look up again to stare at him. His eyes were flitting back and forth as he aggressively helped you out of your clothes.

"I'm going to be so cold."

"Yur' cold already. I'promise this will make ya' feel betta', alright?" Your fingers trembled for a completely different reason as you lifted them to his forearms. The slopes and contours of the muscles prevalent even beneath a gentle press of your fingers.

"Dear god." He snorted, but you might had been mistaken, it could had been a sigh...

"Luv, I need ya' to behave. This is fur' the mission."

"For the..." You gasped as he tried to wrangle the sleeves of your jacket down your arms. "For the mission." You nodded your head in agreement and then proceeded to help him remove the rest of your clothes. As skin was exposed, chills ran up your spine and you leaned into the liquid heat that radiated from Ghost. He had crouched down to remove your boots, your hands naturally grasped at his shoulders for stability. Your lips parted when he glanced up at you with those dark and alluring eyes, you couldn't breath all over again. He had no business being that damn hot. He was a faceless man and he still had this effect on you. "H-H-How are you so warm?" He grunted as he stood, shimmying the last article of clothing down your legs till it dropped around your ankles, you gripped his arms again to step out of the puddle of your pants. You were now in nothing but a sports bra, underwear, and socks.

"'Cause you 're so cold, poppy." He sounded like molasses, you wanted to drown in him. In a moment of weakness, you stepped into him. He hesitated before wrapping his arms around you and a restrained noise escaped you as his strong arms enveloped you like a blanket.

"Ghost..."

"Shhh, I know. Come." He grabbed your wrist and stepped away, despite the way your fingers clung to him as if he would disappear. He guided you to the nest he had made, it looked so warm and so perfect. When he laid back, not even your doubts could stop you from joining him. You released the most depraved moan of satisfaction, melting into his side. He tugged the thermal blanket around you both, then the blankets and his clothes that he had laid down. His breathing was heavy against the mask, shifting around and getting comfortable with the shape of you relaxing into him. You were bare skin to bare skin, rubbing and sticking to eachother like glue, his hairs tickling the exposed bits of your chest and stomach.

His scent was a heady wave of gunpowder, sweat, earthy tones; you wanted more. Your fingers and palms had nowhere to go, meshing with the softer flesh that settled over molten steel; you wanted more. You perched your leg around his abdomen, above his navel, palm rubbing at his pectoral; you wanted more. Your body curved involuntarily, your back like a bow, snapping up till there was nothing apart from him. Your face found residence in the alcove of his neck, where his baclava ended near the dips of his collarbones. His strong and thick fingers wrapped around parts of you, igniting sparks like flint to steel: one grapped your thigh around his waist, the other cupped the back of your scalp.

"Stop moving." He growled, it shot straight to your core. There was no stopping this now. No stopping you. No control.

You wanted more.

"Please, Simon..." You whimpered, the use of his name coiled him like a snake against your body, arms pulling you tighter, fingers squeezing. "I need more."

"Careful, poppy." The gruff and ragged hitch in his breath was almost pleading. You couldn't stop yourself from moving against him again.

"I can't. You're so hot." You meant it both ways, but luckily the situation gave you an out if it was necessary. He was hot to the touch, as if the primordial being Surtr had possesed him in this deathly cold.

"Ya' gotta' keep it together..." In all the time you had known Ghost, which wasn't long by most standards, he had never sounded so uncertain. His tone betrayed him, his body too; fingers caressed you and molded you and held you close.

You wanted more. And you wanted it now.

"Da' mission." He reminded, more so for himself.

"I know. I know." You cried, literal tears began to spill down your cheeks. You never wanted to leave this Ghost-made caccoon, you never wanted to leave the safety of his embrace. He tilted his head slightly, till that too was covering your face that was buried into his throat, closer than before. "I want more so bad." You were in a hazy trance, when his hands moved and the lowest, deepest growl, rumbled in his chest. And you could feel it. You could feel all of him shaking akin to an earthquake. He gripped your hips, thumbs pinning your waist in place before guiding you as he saw fit. You allowed him to. You allowed him to press your dampening crotch over the broad and thick bulge covered in that thin layer of cloth. Your clit was directly against his cock and you were wound so tight you thought you were going to shatter.

"Fuckin' 'ell." He groaned, one hand curling and sloping around the globe of your ass cheek till he was squeezing and massaging and opening you up for more. "'Der are otha' ways to keep warm. 'Dat what ya' want, poppy? Ya' want me to keep you warm?" He had tipped off that edge with you, the same desperation and need roaring inside of him.

"Yes." You breathed, in one fell swoop, he held firm to the back of your head, his other arm locked around your waist and your hips connected like puzzle pieces. His cock twitched against you, and you wiggled your hips to start some friction. He planted his feet, knees raised, and he began to slowly grind himself. The pressure he had made, from keeping you pinned to his body, from keeping you in his grasp, had you going dizzy. There was nothing to hold onto, so you grabbed his shoulders and held on tight. "Fuck, Simon. S'Good. S'warm."

"Yeah, honey? Ya' like dat'?" His hip thrusts became more agressive and you followed with him. Pleasure bled through you as if you had been hooked on the sweetest drug. You cried out, moaning and writhing. He had you bound to him by those taut muscles and that thick cock.

"Yes. More. Please." Sweat beaded off your brow, the cold no longer existed in your mind, the backdrop of a rickety and desolate cabin was no more. There was only him. The arm locking you down scooted toward your arm, where he angled it just so and began to bounce your ass with his thrusts and you went with him. His fingers bunched up the fabric of your underwear that he could reach, a forefinger teasing your now sopping hole.

"Ah, ya' dirty fuckin' gurl." He wheezed, his cock was hard and twitching and the heat from it alone was making you drunk. You wanted to release that pipe bomb from it's confines and blow yourself up on it. "Ya' gon' cum?" He made it so those words vibrated against your ear, you withdrew enough to meet his fierce gaze. You licked your salty lips, you whined, and nodded your head vigorously.

"M'gonna'cum." You jumbled out your words as your hips twitched and they became frantic against his own forceful sway.

"Good gurl'. Do it. Fuckin' cum, ey? Do as I say." He grated against your parted lips, so close that your noses were melded together. '"Do it now." His breath filtered through the fabric of the mask and against your skin.

You inhaled sharply and the scent tipped you over so hard, your entire body shaking and trembling as utter pleasure burst behind your eyelids and between your legs. It was so good you couldn't stop your hips from gyrating harder and your nails from biting onto his skin. He grunted and groaned, clamped around you, holding you like a vice, as if your form would dissipate into dust. You shook some more, tremors wracking your body, aftershocks of an insurmountable event. You wanted to beg for more, you wanted it to never stop.

"Got'ya all ova' me new boxers, luv." He heaved, breathless and raspy. You couldn't help but laugh, a choppy and dreamy and dopey laugh. He exhaled a huff of his own amusement, still gripping you tightly. "Promised ya' I'd get ya' warmed up." Referring to his earlier promise that everything would be better-with surprisingly less clothing.

You sat back on him, raising your torso enough to grab the bottom of your sports bra, and tugging it over your head. His hands settled at your waist, but one explored upwards to tug lightly at a nipple. You gasped, smiling down at him. You chewed on your bottom lip, palms pressing down to his chest.

"I'm warm now, but I still want more."

"'Dat can be arranged." He opened his arms to you and you lowered your torso back to his, naked to naked, the ticklish feeling of chest hairs to your pebbled nipples. "Figurin' ya' want this cock in ya'?"

"Yes." You ran your fingertips down the length of him. He hadn't cum yet, and if his noises from before were any indication, he was perhaps even louder in the throes of passion. You wanted to hear him-all of him. Your hand disappeared beneath the waistband of his boxers and when it finally met with the heated flesh of his most intimate region, he huffed like a bull. "Returning the favor." His responding chuckle gave you confidence to keep going.

With a groan of disapproval, you dropped your forehead to his chest.

Ghost! This is Soap. Do not answer. Enemy movement up ahead from your location. The team is coming your way. Get ready. Out.

"Come on'." He tapped your shoulder, albeit reluctantly. "We'll finish later."

"You promise?" You bit your bottom lip and sent him an uneasy grimace. His eyes locked with yours, that same defeaning and beady stare from before that made you tingle.

"I'swear it." You pecked a kiss on his mask, where his lips would be and you rose. He held your hand as you stood, the icy chill you met on the way out of his nest already reminding you of where you had been and where you wished you could be. His cock was fully hard, bobbing and straining against his boxers.

The both of you began to gear up again. Glances were shared both ways, lengthy staring, something was to be spoken in that silence but it was never said by you...

"Ya'know..." Ghost began lowly, buckling his belt on tight. "You're also pretty."

"Hmm?" Your eyebrows furrowed at him and you froze in confusion.

"I mean-" He cleared his throat. "Not many pretty things in 'dis line o'work. Like to keep ya' around. I'd like to uh-" He shrugged, not meeting your expectant gaze when he continued, "I'd like to keep ya' close. Protect ya'. Always 'ave since I met ya'. Always will." He didn't come off as the shy or nervous type, but in his words you found apprehension, a tentativeness you had never seen in him before. It kept you warm just thinking about it. Ghost was a big softy all up in that adonis like body of his.

"Thank you." You couldn't stop staring at eachother, eyes tethered by invisible pieces of string. When you stepped toward him, his breath hitched, your fingers crawled up from his now gloved hand to the crevice of his elbow. He scooped his other arm around and pulled you into his chest. You clung to what you could.

"I ain't don' wit' you yet, dirty gurl." You smiled and then looked up at him and nodded.

"I hope not, you big stud." His thumb caressed along your chin, across the plump of your bottom lip. He hummed, thumb holding there for just a few moments longer. You wished this could be forever, but work needed to be done. "I'll put the fire out." He nodded in agreement as you withdrew from him.

"Weapons ready." He ordered. "Ya' heard Soap, enemies en route."

"Urgh..." The fire hissed as you threw some of your canteen water on it. "Back into the fucking cold."

"It’s only temporary, poppy. Only temporary."

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod #cod mw2 #Smut #ghost #john soap mactavish #simon riley #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #based on imagine

[seeds-and-sins]

Cursed Dangers

Pairing: Henry Drax x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature/Explicit (SMUT!! RAPE!! LOTS OF CUSS WORDS! UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS ALL THE WAY!).

Description: Following the devastating events that took place in the North, leading to the sinking of the Volunteer and the deaths of many. We follow the life of Mister Baxter's one and only child, Maeve Amelia Baxter. Secure and sheltered under her father's watchful eye for far too long, as news of the tragedy passes through the Baxter estate, she starts to realize that not everything is exactly as it seems.

Author's Note: I do believe this to be the most questionable and morally corrupt fic I have ever written. I would caution that the passing reader exercise a bit of discretion when reading because even I found this to be a little rough. I just thought it would hold true to the character, because he is a very bad individual. I enjoyed writing him, but still, this got a little out of hand in my opinion. I do plan on turning this into a series.

Maeve was now certain that someone was living in the attic; Footsteps in the middle of the night, pattering at the ceiling above her bed, distant conversations that felt all too close and voices all too familiar. Her father went up there an awful lot lately too, and he was never a very good liar. When she asked him about it, showing even a morsel of concern that he might not know the answer either, he was a bit suspicious.

I haven't the slightest idea what you are referring too, love. There isn't anything up there, you've seen so before.

Oh yes, something was definitely off. However, there was always something off with her father's dealings. Starting with the many shipwrecks that occurred under his management, the more recent one being that of the Volunteer. And then, of course, the men he kept company with weren't cheerful or pleasant in the slightest. She did feel a sort of pang in her chest when she heard that Captain Brownlee had gone down with his ship in the wreck, he was perhaps one of the few men in her father's business that she considered a good and respectable man. Then there were the others, the one's like Henry Drax, that made her equally as hot as they did cold. The one's that fueled her curiosity, no matter how much she wished they didn't, and she just couldn't stay away.

She had a bit of Irish in her blood, her father said so, from her mother's side. If the telltale red streaks that layered the bits of a stark blonde didn't already give that away. And her rosy cheeks. And her porcelain skin. And the reason why dangerous things always seemed to excite her.

About two years back, after her mother passed away, she had managed to convince her father to let her go on a voyage with one of his whaling ships. Her father insisted that she could only go if he went with her and so he did, albeit begrudgingly. It was the Volunteer, and Brownlee was a wonderful host to say the least. Her only complaint was that it was just so cold, frigid even, so cold she thought her toes would fall off. That was when she met Henry Drax, a modern marvel among men, brooding and determined and with a hint of mystery to him. But stories had circulated from the other crew members to her that Drax wasn't all that much a marvel at all. From one fellow she heard that the man had partaken in cannibalism, from another she heard that he was chronically infected with a deadly venereal disease, but then she heard from none other than the troublemaker himself-Cavendish-who told her that Drax was the best lad, a perfect lad, the hardest working lad, the most honorable lad. Cavendish was a hoot.

She pushed all the tales aside and sought to make her own assumptions about the man, dangerously so. Her father seemed fond of him, but then again, her father's judgement was largely skewed toward greed and profit. Drax was the best sealer, the best whaler-no doubt-and Maeve witnessed it first hand. Before having spoken to him at all, Drax looked at her from afar often and his eyes were deep and dark and penetrating and for some reason she always knew when he was watching. The first time she spoke to him, it was to ask a simple question, and he answered her and called her little bird and it made her stomach twist in a delightful way. There was that one time, in the deck below, the crew was drinking and cheering and singing sea shanties left and right, and the boat was swaying so hard that Maeve was struggling to catch her footing. She would have fallen if Drax hadn't caught her shy a full inch off the ground, allowing the boat's harsh tip to pull her back upright. She gawked at him in surprise and then they both laughed and for the remainder of the festivities, he didn't let go of her once. And then there was that one time-oh gosh, that time-when Cavendish had said something degrading to her, meaning no harm by it in his mind, but it was a disgusting comment no less. At first Drax laughed with him, but it was fake and lacking all of it's usual jolly mirth, then the next thing you remember was Cavendish flush to the ground, cheek buried into the wooden plank of the deck. Henry rung his hand out and the spot between her legs exploded with need and desire and she thought her cheeks couldn't get anymore red. And Henry smiled at her before helping Cavendish to his feet, and luckily Cavendish still had the same heart eyes for his fellow mate because Maeve wasn't sure how she'd feel if she had witnessed a full on fight involving Henry Drax.

She thought about him a lot, truly, she couldn't help herself. She thought about that time he removed his coat from his very own shoulders to place it over hers: the coat gobbled her up, inches laying flat to the deck from excess, and warm and big like Drax himself. She thought about when she felt the smooth and slippery back of the first whale she had ever seen, right before he stabbed his massive harpoon through it's heart. She thought about the looks he would give her, when he thought she wasn't looking and when she did look, and he never looked away. She most especially thought about the last night she spent with him, before they made it to port. The waters were still and the air was chilly and it would have been her final night on the Volunteer. She'd probably never see any of these men again, these sailors that she had grown fond of and that doted on her as if she was the queen herself. She made sure to kiss every one of them on the cheek before they went to bed. Cavendish tried to sneak a kiss on her lips and when she kneed him between the legs, the whole crew bellowed laughter. And Drax-well-Drax's goodnight kiss was special to her for some reason. He cupped the back of her head as she kissed his cheek and she wondered if he would ever let go. When she withdrew, his eyes were like crescent pools of endless black and his lifted eyebrows softened his entire expression. She grabbed him by his suspenders when no one was looking and whispered in his ear to meet her on the deck in ten minutes. She harbored no regrets that night when she gave herself to him, even as he took her like the starved man that he was and left her with marks covering every inch of her body that would remain unseen to her father's prying gaze that next morning. He watched her leave with Mister Baxter that next day, following her with beady eyes the whole way and unable to pull his gaze even once. She smiled back at him then, where he had that same look of need in his eyes and she wished she didn't have to leave.

Oh, how she ached to be with a man like Henry Drax, but ever so the hypocrite, her father would never allow it. He married an Irish woman and worked his way up the hierarchical ladder into riches and he still would never accept Drax as a potential suitor for Maeve. Never. He would seek no same fate for his only daughter. He had not worked so hard, only for her to fall back into the same societal pigsty that he had crawled out of in his youth.

In fact, since her mother passed, her father kept Maeve on a tight leash. He didn't want to even fathom the idea of passing her off down the aisle. She was pleased for it, reckoning that she wouldn't have to worry about ever marrying and carrying children and being that quiet and obedient dame that men of her particular class so desired.

No. She had already given her heart away, never to be seen again.

Her father told her that Henry Drax was no more. He died in the wreckage also; Cavendish too, and Otto, and McKendrick, and even that young cabin boy who never had the gull to talk to her because he was always a bumbling mess when he tried. She cried into her pillow for them, but she cried especially for Drax.

Then, she found the letter, from a surgeon, one from the Volunteer. She was snooping in her father's office, contemplating braving the attic to see what was up there, when she spotted it on her father's desk. She couldn't believe what she was reading and her heart broke with each horrifying new plot; the cabin boy was sodomized and killed, the sodomizer and killer was Henry Drax, Brownlee was attacked by Drax and he did not survive, Cavendish sailed the ship further north, the ship wrecked in the ice, the men of the Hastings were all sunk in a storm, the men that survived were waiting for their deaths' in a small tent in the middle of nowhere, inuits arrived, helped them-maybe something to hope for-but no, Henry Drax killed them too, and then he killed Cavendish, and then he fled, leaving his fellow crew members behind to die in a barren icy wasteland... the surgeon was the only survivor.

Her heart broke, it split apart as literally as it could without knocking her down, she was a dead woman walking. Her eyes flitted to the attic door and as crazy an idea as it was to fathom: Could her father be harboring a fugitive? A monster? A Murderer to the highest degree? She felt tears trickle down her cheeks because the Drax she just read about simply couldn't be the one she held so dearly. He was rough-yes-rugged-yes-and he had no qualms about his desires and no filter for those desires, but he was also so tender with her in passing, so gentle, and a man who truly did treat her good. She was now starting to see that all he was, was that of a lie. That perhaps her trust had been manipulated and betrayed and meaningless to the likes of a man like him.

She threw the letter down on the desk, bunched up the skirts of her pale blue dress and stormed toward the attic door. If she didn't do it then and there, it would have followed her for the remainder of the day and even some more. Maeve was angry, boiling with rage, and she was sad and she wanted to cry, and she was just a mess. And if her suspicions were true, then he would be there for her to take it out on. He would finally be there when she needed him and no longer be the same honorable man she once thought him to be.

She rose up the concrete stairs, the creaking of a cot up ahead made her pause, before she continued barreling up the rest of the way. She dropped her skirts when she rounded the railing of the staircase, a concrete column pulling her to it's side as her suspicions were proven.

"Urgh, go away n' ask Stevenson to help ya'." His words were slurred, back turned to her, an empty bottle of rum rolling on it's side beside the cot. Maeve felt an uncomfortable dread fill her to the core, she leant against the column, tilting her head to the side to consider the remainder of the attic. It was still empty as ever, with a scarce amount of light filtering in from the creaked open shutters in the window. "Did'ya hear me ya'-" Drax twisted his body to face her, he squinted in her direction, and then frantically fumbled to his feet.

Maeve frowned at him, boring holes into his empty vessel-soulless vessel-with her brilliant blue eyes, as she scoured her mind for words that would not come. He weaved his fingers through his greasy black hair, slicking the matted strands back and forcing them sleek.

"Little bird." He greeted in a gravely voice, sobered up some from the surprise of it all. He smirked at her with his rotten teeth, and she dropped the side of her forehead to the wall as she continued to stare at him. "Well?" He held his arms open, beckoning her to him. She mustered the courage to shake her head, watching his entire resolve slowly falter with the lowering of his arms and his once brilliant grin.

"W-W-" She gulped, lifting her chin. "Why did you do it?" He gritted his teeth, hands falling to his hips.

"Do what?"

"You killed all those people..." She was surprised he even heard her, as she was speaking so softly, so quietly. And he did step forward and she stepped back and his stern jaw went taut. "You raped a boy!" She spoke a little louder, voice wavering. Her hands crowned at her stomach, to hopefully ease the pain there.

"I do as I please, when I please." He shrugged, careless of the nature of his actions and the pain they brought her.

"I should-I should go tell the authorities." She placed a hand on the railing, her heart beating faster and faster as a deafening silence thickened around them. He tugged the hem of his pants higher up his hips.

"I s'pose I'll have to strangle ya' then. You think ye' can outrun me?"

"You'd hurt me too?"

"Well, if you plan on tellin' others 'bout me whereabouts, then yes." Her nostrils flared and she held her breath, one passing moment where she made her decision, or at least was considering it.

"You're a monster."

"So 've been told."

"Have you no conscience? No guilt for the horrid crimes you've committed?"

"Would ya' think 'dem so horrid if there weren't rules in place to say so?" Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath.

"Yes, I would. Because I don't believe in hurting other people."

"Well, it's the only thing I know."

"I don't believe that."

"That why you're still standing there?" Drax was an exceptionally good hunter and when his prey was about to dart, he knew exactly when and how. She rushed down the staircase, barely stood a chance as he drunkenly managed after her and caught her just before she erupted in a scream. His dirty palm swallowed her lips and his other arm wrapped around her waist. With his hot and steamy breath at her throat, the scent of rum burnt her nostrils and she hissed against his skin.

"Shhh..." She struggled, his lips pressing to the nape of her neck and he groaned into the flesh there. "Shhh, little bird, shhh!" He grew more and more forceful as she continued to fight him, pulling her backside flush to his front. "If yur' father finds out that you know 'bout lil'ol me it won't end well for you n'him. D'ya understand?" She whimpered and then deflated, growing slack in his embrace. "Good girl, good." He chirped, obnoxiously slapping her lips with the firm hand there.

"Miss Baxter!" It was Winona, the maid. "Are you alright?!" That hand over Maeve's lips encompassed her whole jaw and then her head was being jerked past her shoulder to face Drax. He warned her with a threatening glare, then nodded in the direction of the attic door.

"Y-Yes!" Maeve shouted back instantly, "I'm fine! Please! Don't fuss!" He huffed against her lips and she trembled, then he shoved her so hard she was stumbling back against the concrete wall. He doubled toward the attic door and carefully closed it shut, turning the bronze lock in at the top. Maeve's eyes went wide and she flattened herself as far as she could against the wall.

"Fuck..." He breathed, somehow more breathless than he was having moved so fast to catch her. He twisted to face her, eyes crested and she knew that look better than anything. It haunted her for days after they said their last goodbyes and haunted her more so as she thought him dead and now it haunted her because she loved that look. She hated herself for loving that look now. The look of desperation, of need, of pure unadulterated want, in it's most primal form. "Been waitin' so long for you to come and pay a visit, little bird." She flinched with each step he took, closer and closer till his arms were on either side of her, effectively caging her in.

"Ah yes, I be wishin' fur ya' all day and all night to come see me as we're here and now." His other hand cupped her cheek, the tips of his fingers weaving through her loose hair and he chuckled. "So fuckin' gorgeous. Softest and sweetest lay I eva' had."

"That's all I was then?" She squeezed her eyes shut to hold back tears. This was overwhelming and terrifying and heartbreaking and she had never felt so many things all at once. "Just a lay?"

"Ahhh, no, no, don't think that." His tone was sickly sweet and she opened her eyes to watch him take joy in curling his fingers in her hair, he yanked her head back. "You're worth a wankin' to." She found herself scowling, rolling her tongue against her cheek before spitting directly in his face. His expression clenched as he turned his head away, before he laughed, ducking his head off his shoulder to wipe away her spit. He surprised Maeve, fingers curling hard around her throat and slamming her head against the wall. Her eyes rolled in her head and she went dizzy.

"Now, now, sweetie, I like it a whole lot betta' when you don't pretend ya' hate me, ain't that so." Her brain was scrambled, the back of her head throbbing and she worried she might faint. But somehow, she responded.

"I do." She choked out, his fingers clenched harder and he growled.

"Oi, yeah?" He urged, "Let's see shall we?" Tears ran down her cheeks, his grip loosening the slightest bit as he hunched down. His other hand lifted up the frilly edge of her thick skirts. "Let's see." His movements became furious, hand fighting through layers of her heavy skirts till he found what he was looking for. He found her bloomers, palm immediately cupping her womanhood and his torso pressed against her, dwarfing her completely and smothering her with his broad chest. Her head snapped back and she gasped, the heat undeniable at her core, bloomers wet at the apex of her thighs, and body betraying the vicious rage that swelled in her. "Fuckin' 'ell..." His voice was hoarse and thick in her ear. Before ever knowing about the crimes his very hands committed, she would have done anything to hear that voice every night against her sweaty skin. Now it only filled her with disgust and she wanted to cry, but the duality of her soul was that she was stubborn and didn't want to do anything that would appease him. If she cried he might like it and if she didn't he might like that too, and the conflict was ever so apparent when she bit her bottom lip and held back a whimper because he surely liked that. His fingers began to rub and mold her soft folds through layers of fabric and he cackled. "You should feel yo'self, little bird-Shit-" He licked the side of her cheek and she winced as his sand papery tongue left it's slime on her skin. "Yo'want me so bad. You've wanted me for such a long time haven'ya, poor lass. I shan't be the only one thinking of our night out on that deck, me' cock buried in your tight virgin cunt, pullin' sweet sounds from these pretty lips." And as if a wick lit off of a burning match, fast and brilliant, her entire body imploded on itself and she couldn't control the way she wracked up against the hand at her throat and pleasure burst behind her eyes. An uncontrollable moan escaped her lips, wanton and dry from the pit of her throat. "That's me' girl! Me' good lass! Right 'der, that's da' spot!" He removed his hand from her skirts and they fell at her feet, her legs shook like a quake and her hands grasped his muscly shoulders for stability. She hardly had any time to collect herself before his dampened fingers were breaching her lips, her taste thick on them with his own dirt ridden-natural flavor. She gagged as he shoved them in entirely, then with uncharacteristically sweet kisses along her cheek, his fingers were replaced by his lips.

She retaliated as best she could, as his tongue wrestled her own and the taste of him and her flooded together into a cocktail that nearly sent her over the edge again. He groaned, lips parting slightly to exhale a desperate wheeze, hands now resting at her waist and squeezing tight there to keep her in place. He was a heavy breather, through his nostrils, chest heaving, and there was a time she found that so undeniably pleasing, because it added to this edge and more proof that Drax had no inhibitions when it came to his habits. But now she hated it, she hated how loud he was-

He withdrew in a loud wince, teeth clenched, he hissed, head craning back from Maeve as if burned by fire. His fingers lifted to his full lips, the bottom one split and bleeding cheery fresh liquid. His forefinger and middle brushed against the crimson, his lip twitched in a sneer before he laughed, looking between Maeve and the blood that pooled on his appendage. She was glaring at him with all the ferocity she could bring, despite her appearance betraying her completely. She looked as disheveled as one could possibly be in this scenario. Her chest was flush, cheeks were flush, droplets of sweat dribbling off her brow, and her lips were plump and red as he too had awarded her with his gnawing sharp teeth.

"That how you want it'den, hmm?" The way he gently grappled onto her jaw this time made her uneasy, guiding her chin and lips where he wanted them. He invaded her space once more, until his lips were but a centimeter away, as if his eyes were tied to her violently blue ones by a string.

"I don't want any of it." She whispered, he licked his lips, the blood smearing from the action and as he removed his hand he gave her cheek a light slap.

She had nowhere near enough strength to fight him, his arms lifting her onto his shoulder.

"Please Drax! No! Not like this!" She cried out, weakly beating her fists at his back.

"Shut up, ya'hear? Don't want yur' father finding ya' with a cock down yur' throat, yeah?" He tossed her haphazardly onto the bed, catching his breath and then pacing back and forth as he admired her from afar. He shook his head, swiping a hand over his face. "Fuck' you're perfect, ya' get that', huh?" He chuckled to himself, pacing like that tiger Maeve saw at the zoo, back and forth, ready for a feast. "Yur' so fuckin' lucky men don't line up to taste this cunt. They'd bend ya' over and fill ya' good. Yur' pa' would charge ten shillings for ya', one go each." He stopped and snatched her ankles to yank her close to the edge of the bed and she whined in protest. Her palms rested against his chest, one on each pectoral and her brain was foggy with lust, but the rational side of her was yelling inside: keep fighting.

"You've done the most immoral and cruel acts. Please, understand. Please let me go." There was no reasoning with him, not with the force he used against her own outstretched limbs, till her elbows were bent and he was practically laying on top of her, faces leveled. She could feel his arousal then, the bulge jutting against her skirts, large and thick enough to feel it through many layers.

"No, I wouldn't allow it ya'see. You's belong to me, you's always have." He stood fully, hands then running down her legs and bunching her skirts back. Fingers caressed in reverse, leaving goosebumps behind. He delicately removed her matching slippers, letting them plop to the floor. Her toes curling next to his furry cheeks, his palms engulfing them, thumbs curving into the soles of them and massaging tenderly. "Yur' such a naive lil'thing. Thought that night I was' gon'have to take you in yur' cabin, but there ya'went invitin' me to the deck." Her bottom lip wobbled and she hid her embarrassed and hurt expression in her hands. "Such a good girl, aren't ya'? Neva' could'ave dreamed havin' ya'like this, me' darlin' girl." Her lips parted as she felt his scruffy lips press to her ankle. "So soft, like a seal pup, mi'n ta' defile and tek' as I please." He dragged her down closer if that was even possible, guiding her legs around his waist. He went silent as his hands ghosted along her body, caressing every curve and hungrily taking in all of her covered self. "Da' one thing I regret from that night is not gettin' to see all tha' was underneath, huh? De's damned clothes in me'way." She couldn't look, not when she felt something sharp and hard running down from the top of her bosom to the bottom of her corset. "I won't make da' same mistake dis' time." Her eyes bulged from her head, elbows propping her up when he sliced a blade down through layers and layers of her dress, the stitching parted to reveal silk nude skin beneath. With the knife clutched in one hand, he ripped at the fabrics until they were no more. It reminded her of the first time she watched him hack through seal skin in the distance and she almost vomited. "Fuck, look atya'!" He exclaimed, strands of hair coming undone from their sleekness, falling out before his eyes. Maeve crawled away, but he grabbed her ankle with his freehand and pulled her back with a click of his tongue. "Such a fuckin' cock tease." The blade was cold when it touched her skin and her back arched as a thin red cut was made just below her breast. Her nipples perked up, asking for attention where her inner self was in turmoil and begging to be swallowed up by the pits of hell. Anything was better than this, no matter how good it felt, no matter how amazing his calloused hands were, she cried to be given reprieve, to wake from this seemingly endless nightmare.

"Fuck you!" She yelled, in one last attempt at gaining some semblance of control, but her fighting came to an abrupt halt when the blade of the knife was dangerously close to her throat.

"I'll slice yur' throat and fuckya' till you go cold."

"P-Please. Don't." She mumbled, the tendons in her neck visible and tight with tension, collarbone defined, rising and falling with her breasts.

"The only thing I want leavin' yur' lips is me' name. Understood?" She slowly nodded, he tossed the knife to the side on the bed without a second to spare. She didn't care where it landed, too caught up with him hurriedly unbuckling his belt and discarding his white baggy shirt and getting as naked as he possibly could. He easily adjusted Maeve on the bed when he was good and ready. Fully understanding her predicament she sobbed silently to herself and allowed him to move her as he wished.

"Ya'know, I usually don't fuck me' whores from the front..." The both of them released a noise when his hairy thighs met with the back of hers. "But I make the exception for me' sweet lil'bird..." He hovered dominantly above her, one hand lining his solid dick with her folds. Her fingers curled into the bunched up sheets and ripped shreds of her dress, bracing for the unpleasant pressure. "I like to watch the fight leave yur' eyes, lass, because ya' belong to me and you's give yurself to me so willingly that it makes me' cock twitch and me' heart flutter, yeah?" She squeezed her eyes shut, his cock head pushing in inch by inch. Her hands had a mind of their own, grabbing anything and everything and soon landing on his hairy chest. His breath fanned out across her face as he exhaled heavily. "Fuck yur' so tight, lil'birdy-and wet-'so fuckin' wet..." His words trailed off into gibberish and then his pelvis was flush with hers and she yanked at his chest hairs. Unable to form a coherent thought, she began muttering prayers under her breath, thighs locking around his hips.

"Please, please, please, please, please."

"Yeah, that's it." He moved his hips and she was a goner. The mix between pressure and that all too enjoyable drag of spongey skin on skin and the fact that she could feel everything. She whimpered, head hitting hard back against the cot and there was a soreness that lingered from Drax's earlier stint with her and the wall. The tears running down her cheeks held no specific reason anymore, if it wasn't sadness, or frustration, or rage, it was insurmountable pleasure that made her toes curl and her body ache. "Open yur' eyes." She wasn't sure she heard him correctly and her mind was so muddied that it took her moments to realize he was speaking to her. "Ya'fuckin' bitch. Open." It wasn't said in anger, grunted out perhaps, his thumb then shoving back her eyelid and she got the idea then. She stared at Henry Drax like he was the sun, the first streams of light filtering in through the blinds in the morning. Her eyelids were droopy, sight blurred by lust and need and desire, body completely devoid of any fighting now. "Ye' become so cock dumb, fuck." That same thumb was shoved unceremoniously into her mouth and she sucked on it as she met his gaze. His hips were like a piston, cock splitting her tiny figure in half. "Good god!" He growled like a bear, then hunched closer, moving his hips harder and faster, panting and grunting with each thrust. Her hands held onto his strong biceps for dear life as her body gave way to him. He leant down and kissed her lips, returning her earlier favor and sinking his teeth into her bottom lip till blood burst on his tongue. She didn't think-she couldn't. His hand slithered between their bodies to find her special spot and her vision ebbed away as another earth shattering orgasm overcame her.

He growled rather loudly as his seed released into her, her cunt gripping his cock like a vice and he stopped his thrusting altogether to sit there in the warmth. Sweat coated their bodies, one hand propped beside her head and the other swishing her juices around her oversensitive clit. He grabbed her thighs then, massaging them and sitting back on his haunches with an exaggerated sigh. She rose to her senses fast as the high dissipated, lips parted slightly as she eyed him from below and tried to steady her heartbeat.

She sniffled, hands poised still on his arms, now having slid down to his wrists. His eyes traced her entire torso, then when he met her own, he moved down till his lips were grazing her collarbone. His tongue licked a path down, lips slurping a nipple in between his teeth. She cried again, fingers sifting through his hair and tugging. He tasted the smeared blood near her cut, practically drinking the liquid as if it were wine from the finest vineyard. He worked his way back up her body, cock still hard inside her, he kissed her chin and then her cheek and then her lips and she shuttered. Red marks, blood splotches followed everywhere, his puffy lips akin to bristly paintbrushes grazing along a blank canvas. She held him to her, no longer pushing him away, his lips touched down on her neck and she released one final gasp before he settled there. His beer belly rested against her own stomach, hairs tickling her, but she was too tired to fight anymore. He suffocated her with his heat and his weight, but she couldn't bring herself to do a thing because his lips felt so perfect against her and he felt so right above her. She allowed another sob, arms raveling around his neck and fingers digging into his scalp.

"I hate you." She whispered, he lifted his head to stare at her and hummed.

"To the contrary, ye' love me." She was disgusted with herself, and with him. His serious and stern brow flicked up at her in question. "In fact, ye' dream of bein' called Misses Drax, spendin' the remainder of yur' days wit' me' cock buried in ya' and me' seed growin' in yur'belly."

"You're the fucking devil, you'll never have me like that." He snorted, cupping her cheek and caressing the red skin there. He didn't believe her.

"And you are nothin' but a whore fer me' pleasure, while I am under yur' papa's roof. That's all." She closed her eyes, swallowing thickly. He felt a sharpness at his throat and when he awkwardly tilted his head down, he caught the glint of his knife. He shot up to his knees, smirking as he held his hands up in defense. His cock twitched inside her and she grimaced at the feeling. The point of the blade rested at his gut then and she oh so wanted to stab him for the devil that he was. "Go on, lass. You's was the one who's said you wasn't too fond of hurtin' others. Now yur' goin' to hurt me?" He licked his lips, tongue dragging across the curly hairs that poked out around his mouth. She shook violently, her hand vibrating as she held the knife to him. He wrapped his own hand around her wrist, steadying it for her. "If there's anyone I would let kill me, it'd be you. Ye'd be the only one to get a free chance, lass, so use it wisely." She blinked, her free hand wiping away a waterfall of wet salty tears.

She couldn't kill him, the wretched man that he was. She couldn't. And it made her hate herself even more. After a few beats, he pushed the knife down, till her knuckles rested beside her head.

"Now ye' can't hurt me, no ye' can't. Because ye'love me, lass. Because this world wouldn't be much good fur'ya wit'out Henry Drax in it. S'that it?" He dragged his hips back, thrusting in gently. She closed her eyes and turned her head away. "Naw'no ye' don't..." He forced her head back, aggressively wiping fresh tears away. He closed the distance between them, mouthing and tonguing at the salty droplets. "I want ye' to say it."

"No." She cried.

"Yes." He grunted back, "Say that ye' love me. Say it like ye' said it on the Volunteer. Tell me." Her jaw clenched, as she turned her head back, their noses brushed, he was staring deeply into her eyes when her eyelids fluttered open.

"I love you." She uttered, shame swelling in her like an infected wound.

"Good girl," He grinned evilly, smug as he made another thrust that curled her toes, cock still hard and her body still aching for more. "Ye' belong to me and such a worser man I'd be to not give ye' what you be wantin' so badly." He kissed her cheek and she bit her lip in disgust. "T'make yer'dreams come true, lil'bird. Hmm? Would ye'like that? Make me a richer man for it too."

"Go-" Her fingers defeatedly uncurled from the knife, cupping his jaw, she met his gaze. "Go fuck yourself, Henry Drax."

He was so close, she could feel the laughter that bubbled out of him. It shook her body whole, like his cock.

Oh, to love life's cursed dangers.

#the north water #Henry Drax #Patrick Sumner #warning: rape! #dead dove don't eat #original characters #baxter #henry drax x oc #ofc #amc

[seeds-and-sins]

Light My Fire

Pairing: Ben “Soldier Boy” x F!Reader

Rating: M (Nudity, Sexual themes, Crude language, Curse Words)

Description: You are an established member of Payback. You go by the hero name, the Phoenix, in respect to your ability to manipulate fire and theoretically reach temperatures bordering that of the Sun’s. The Legend signs you up for a commercial and Soldier Boy isn’t happy about it. 

"This is ridiculous." You growled lowly, twisting and spinning as you inspected yourself in the mirror. You should have known better than to accept a PR opportunity from The Legend. You didn't get your own movie, or tv show, not even an appearance on the tonight show-No. You got a fucking lingerie commercial.

"Ahhh, come on! Don't be like that!" He bickered back, "You look gorgeous, look at ya'..." He appeared in the corner of the reflection, waving at your half naked body and ogling you, but you could see his mind was elsewhere. "You're giving me a semi!" You crossed your arms and chuckled, shooting him an incredulous look over your shoulder. "That's really reassuring coming from you." "Anytime, sweetheart, anytime. Now get your pretty ass to that studio, or I'll carry you there myself." He directed a pointed finger at you, sidestepping on his way out the door. You held still, while the makeup artist continued adding natural shades to your cheeks and eyelids. "I'd like to see you try." You toyed back. "Don't test me." He grinned and the both of you shared an amused glance before he disappeared from the dressing room. You immediately slunk back into an irritated state. "Hey, I think you look beautiful." The beautician commented with a soft smile, clicking the top on the lipstick to show that she was done. "Yeah, I'm about to become every prepubescent teens favorite wet dream." You rolled your eyes, resting your hands at your hips and facing the mirror one last time. "Don't think about it like that. Tons of women are going to be watching too. They're gonna wanna feel and look just like you do. You'll be an inspiration." She offered a black silk robe to you and you accepted. You groaned, snatching the robe from her and slipping it up your arms to rest on your shoulders. You exhaled a huff and rolled your eyes. "Good luck." You told yourself as you made your way to exit the changing rooms. The wall to the studio was agonizing, you felt like everyone's eyes were on you already. The silk black flowed out behind you, around your freshly shaven legs, smooth and shiny from all the lotion they had you slather on. You hoped the set was at least private, to save you the hassle of having to perform in embarrassment and dread.    Upon entering stage six, as the Legend had instructed you on before, you were met with a whole chorus of whistles and clapping. You glanced around in confusion; first at the three cameramen that surrounded a pillowy looking stage, then the director that was seated calmly in his chair and speaking with the sound technician, and lastly, to the giant horde of familiar faces that made your stomach drop. It was Soldier Boy, Gunpowder, Swatto, Mindstorm, and Tommy, getting quite comfortable in a grouping of chairs. Your fists closed at your sides and your teeth clenched as you felt a wave of rage wash over you. You immediately stormed in their direction, effectively silencing the entire group except for Soldier Boy. Soldier Boy stood, a naughty grin lifting his lips to reveal his pearly white teeth, his hands rose in defense. "Now, now-" You landed a punch straight to his gut, he wasn't anticipating an attack. He hunched forward and gripped his stomach, wincing into a chuckle. His emerald eyes were hungry and dark as he lifted his chin and considered your smaller figure, eyes raking over the silk robe that covered the view he oh-so desired to see underneath. "Cheap shot, hot stuff, but I'll let it go this time." "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Your eyes glowed red as you stepped forward, Soldier Boy didn't budge in his stance and instead placed his hands at his hips and smirked. "Don't get your panties in a twist. We're just here for moral support." "Oh yeah? I don't need it." You scowled at a giddy Gunpowder that popped his head out from behind Soldier Boy. Your palm pressed to Soldier Boy's chest and he took the hint to step aside for you. Your eyes returned to their natural color before you were glaring back at Soldier Boy. "He's just a kid, Ben." "Big Whoop, watching isn't gonna kill him." He unceremoniously plopped his palm down onto the dome of Gunpowder's helmet, shoving the poor kid to the ground with a booming laugh that bubbled up from his gut.  Gunpowder echoed a laugh of his own, nervous and shaky as he collected himself back to his feet. You peered around at your team members, a nausea tugging at your stomach. Your face wrinkled when Mindstorm caught your eye: he was practically drooling, unable to look up from the curves that did show through your robe. "Alright! That's fuckin' it! Everyone out!" "Not a chance." Soldier Boy sternly replied, taking the space in front of you once more. "I'm in charge, and I say we're staying." "Seriously, I-" "Phoenix! We're ready for you!" The director called, you anxiously wrapped your arms around yourself and bit your bottom lip. You were already panicking as it was and having an audience was making it significantly worse, especially with that audience consisting of your horny coworkers. "If only you showed up to herogasm, we wouldn't be so curious." Tommy teased, resting back in his seat as if he had just won the lottery. The satisfied smile on his ugly mug was immediately wiped clean when Soldier Boy sent him a harsh glare. You grabbed Soldier Boy's forearm, hoping to at least tap into his sympathy. "Ben, Please. I-I can't do this." You knew that he was largely the ring leader in these crude scenarios. Probably having heard about the commercial and having decided to barge in with the others for his own personal amusement. If he adhered to your request, the others would follow. "Hmm," It was a gravelly and an almost seductive hum. "Do you think I give two shits? You're the one who wanted to do a fucking lingerie commercial." "It wasn't my choice." "Phoenix come on! We have a time slot!" The director called once more, your tears burned at the edges of your eyes. "You want the whole world to know how much of a whore you are. Well, here's your chance." He tore his forearm away and plopped back into his chair. The others followed with lecherous grins and sharp gazes. You knew you needed to act fast if you wanted to minimize the psychological and emotional damage here. Soldier Boy was only getting back at you for having turned him down a number of times. You found him attractive-in fact, he was fucking hot. The issue was that Crimson Countess and him were an item, and Crimson Countess was your friend, you knew you could never betray her trust.   You hadn't anticipated the backlash that would come your way. Soldier Boy had a bit of a jealous streak in him, a vicious one. You didn't understand why, you thought he loved Countess, but whenever you were with someone else Soldier Boy went berserk. He had ruined countless dates by barging into your room with claims that you were needed for an emergency mission. Time and time again, he never failed to ruin your potential lovers, relationships, dates, and one night stands. Years gone by and he never relented in his advances, but the fact that you kept turning away only exacerbated the situation. Not to mention, he was extremely protective. It didn't matter if you were indestructible, gifted with the powers of flight, super strength, and fire. If anyone so much as shot a bullet at you, their brains would become scrambled eggs on the pavement. And this was just another punishment by him, another envy motivated attack to get you to cave. If the world got to see you in lingerie, then he would get a front row seat. Bringing the others along was an embarrassment tactic, a show of authority and power. You want the world to see you in lingerie? Then let them fucking see you. "Just you." You blurted out, resting your palm over his hand, his fingers clenched fiercely around the armrests on the chair. He sat as if he was a king, legs spread wide, chest broad and back straight. The world was his and everyone was a puppet to him. His gaze narrowed on you and for a moment you thought he was capable of burning holes straight through you. He gritted his teeth and his stoic composure dropped for a moment as his lips trembled. You weren't sure what was running through his head, but it frightened you. Without breaking eye contact, his lips pursed and a loud whistle pierced the room. All eyes were on him and he directed his attention to the other members of Payback. "Out! All of you, now!" "But, Soldier-" Gunpowder retreated any protests when Soldier Boy's hard stare focused on him. You watched with some relief as the others vacated the studio, except it was only then you realized you might had made an even bigger mistake. "Go on, little spitfire, give Daddy a show." Soldier Boy crooned as the last of them disappeared into the hallway, the door shutting behind them. You would have gagged if those words weren't doing other things to you. "We can't wait any longer! Do I have to get the VP on the line?!" The director was yelling at this point, you inhaled deeply. If the Legend was here, he wouldn't stand for this. "N-" Soldier Boy lifted a brow at you. "N-No, Sir. I'm coming!" You stepped up to the stage, decorated and lit up in such a fashion to mimic the clouds and the sky. "Alright, we're gonna' get a couple close ups and then we'll switch out. Drop the robe." The director was leering at you too, although with a completely different energy about him. He was here for business, but there was no denying the pleasure he would take in seeing you at your most vulnerable. You grabbed at the tied silk band around your waist, digits trembling as you undid the fabric. "Chop! Chop!" You thought about Soldier Boy, sitting in the corner and watching with an undeniable fervor. It made you even more sick. "Honey, what the fuck is-" Your eyes burned red and you darted in the director's direction. "Stop fucking rushing me, or I'll burn you to ashes." The director stilled, then frantically nodded his head. Your chest heaved with another calming breath and your eyes returned to their normal hue before you were sliding the robe from your body. Earlier, you had given the Legend the choice of your first outfit. The two of you always had a flirtatious nature to your relationship, but it was friendly. Halfway through the shoot the beauticians from your dressing room would come to help you change into the next revealing number, so you didn't care what you wore first. The Legend picked something docile and innocent: a white baby doll set with a mesh covering. It didn't leave much to the imagination, with the bra hardly covering your breasts and the thin panties cutting high above your hips. "Holy shit." The director muttered under his breath and you bit your tongue as you stepped onto the set. "Um-Uh-" He gestured at the larger stuffing fluff. "Lay on that." You tried to move as discreetly as possible, but it only ended up making the situation worse for you. You got onto your knees and the director groaned ludely, you then crawled your way onto the cloud. This was absolutely the most humiliating thing you had ever taken part in, and you had done some pretty humiliating things to get a part in Payback. "Alright, be a little bit more loose, act comfortable." You awkwardly shifted so you were sprawled on your side, legs crossed over each other, French painted toes straight out, and your hand resting on your thigh. "Can you smile for me?" You smiled as best as you could, but it was obvious that it was forced. "Perfect. You remember your lines?" You begrudgingly nodded, then your eyes shifted just past one of the cameraman where they met with Soldier Boy's. He was disheveled as ever, shoulders rising and falling fast with the heated inhales and exhales. He crossed his legs and shifted in his seat, leaning his exposed chin into his palm. He looked like he wanted to devour you whole, consume everything that was your being until there was nothing left. Snap! Snap! The director tried to get your attention, you turned your gaze back to him. "Look into this camera." He pointed at one of the three cameras and then gave the thumbs up. "Ready. Set. Action!" You caressed your hand up your thigh, under the mesh cover and across your stomach. "As a hero it can be so hard to balance-" "CUT!" You blinked at the director, confusion furrowing your brows. "What's wrong?" "Try to emphasize 'so hard' for me. Likewise with a couple of the other double entendres. Let's make this sexy." Your jaw dropped and you shuffled upright, scouring your mind for a way out. "This isn't a fucking porno. I'm not doing that!" "Sweetheart, you're gonna' fucking do whatever I want you to do. Understood?" "Mind if I intervene?" The director straightened, he came to stand and turned himself just enough to spot Soldier Boy approaching. Soldier Boy plastered a grin onto his lips and when he was in arm's reach, he placed a hand on the director's shoulder. Ben towered over the older looking man, striking a bolt of fear into him with a tight squeeze. "The lady will do what she's comfortable doing. Do you understand that?" "Y-Yes." "Good." He patted the director's shoulder, nearly causing the man to fall back. He lifted his head to stare dreamily at you, you sucked in your bottom lip. "You look stunning." He crossed his arms and stayed put, signifying that he had found a new spot and he had no plans on leaving it. Front and center. You went back to your former posture, feeling surprisingly secure with Soldier Boy being so close. "Action!" The director called once more, the cameras began rolling. This time, you brought your hand up from your stomach to the V-cut in your bra beneath the mesh. "As a hero it can be so hard to balance my femininity with my strength..." The director pointed to a different camera and you followed the instruction without issue. "But thanks to Victoria's Secret, I'm able to carry on a secret of my own..." The director counted down as you held your gaze with the camera. "CUT!" He shook his head at you, then snapped his fingers as if you weren't already giving him your undivided attention. "You don't look comfortable, or happy. You don't look like you have a secret." "We could..." You heard Soldier Boy's breath hitch. "We could remove the lingerie for the first half." "NO!" You roared, lifting yourself to your feet-a voice at the back of your head just had to remind you that even with the added height of the stage you were still not taller than Soldier Boy. "THIS HAS GOTTEN OUT OF HAND. I'M LEAVING!" You were about to push your way straight past Soldier Boy, but he placed a hand on your shoulder and grappled you in place. "You might be strong, but you're not as strong as me. Get back up there, now." You could feel the pressure building in his grip and you turned your head away in shame. "Phoenix..." He warned in a low purr, hunching forward till his breath was hot at your ear. "Give me a chance, huh? I'll make it worth your while." "I don't want to do this. I never wanted to do this." "Hey..." He sternly chopped out, you forced yourself to look up at him. "You're naturally gorgeous, and this prick..." He swooped his other arm around the director and wrapped him tight to his side. "Isn't doing you justice. You let me direct and I promise I won't disappoint." "But-" Crackle! The director whimpered as the grip around his shoulder grew stronger, until he was tapping Soldier Boy's chest plate for mercy. "I don't want to be naked on camera. That's not who I am." "I get it, I do..." He spun the director out behind him, the man twisted and fell to the floor. He rolled around in pain, Soldier Boy stepped forward and placed his now free hand on your other shoulder. "You're not gonna show anything." He oozed confidence with a wild smirk, "You see, sex sells, baby. You're just going to tease the fuck out of millions of people. What's the matter with that?" "The matter is I don't want people to think I'm a whore." "Well, you're not a whore if you don't play puff puff pussy with all the boys in town, am I right?" Your nose scrunched up in disgust. "Fuck you, Ben. You're an asshole." He forcefully pushed you back onto the tufts off cotton and you shot him a defiant glare. "Take the-" His eyes traced your body and he pointed a finger at you as if he was admonishing you for stealing from the cookie jar. "Take the lingerie off, now." Your chest heaved as you sucked in a shaky breath. "Ya'know what?!" You shuffled back up to stand, then grabbed the bottom of the mesh. "You will never fucking have me, Soldier Boy! Never!" You yanked the fabric over your head, practically ripping it off. His eyes widened and you basked in his surprise. "Everything you see, you'll never get to touch. And that tiny dick that you have twitching between your legs, you can jerk it off thinking about me..." You grabbed the hem of the white silk panties and slid them down your legs. His jaw dropped then, you tossed them in his direction. "And know that's all you will ever get to enjoy. My image." You reached behind you and unclipped the bra, throwing that along with the panties. He was frozen in place, eyes taking in all of your naked body like a kid at a candy store. "You can go fuck yourself." Then, much to your displeasure, a cool air of stoicism passed over him. He dropped the surprise, dropped the smirk, he cocked his head and he nodded. "Good." He cleared his throat and shifted on his feet. "Now, tits down, ass up." You frowned, wrapping one arm around your chest and cupping your crotch. What?! Was he going to rape you now?! What the fuck was this?! Soldier Boy rolled his eyes, "Lay on your belly." You grimaced between the fake cloud and him. "The longer you stand there, the more of you I can dedicate to memory." That did the trick. Although hesitantly, you laid back down onto the clouds. Your body was taut, you crossed your arms and propped yourself up. The clouds did a somewhat good job of covering you and they forced you to accept that in your frustration you had put yourself in an even more vulnerable state. "Perfect." Click. Snap. Flash! The wheezing of a camera caused you to flinch, you gasped and held your body more closely to the cotton tufts. Past Soldier Boy you made out the director, that had somewhat recovered, but he was favoring his left side. He was holding a polaroid up with his left hand, that shoulder the less injured of his two. It was too late before his mistake loomed over him in the form of an extremely enraged Soldier Boy. Ben snatched the polaroid from the director's grasp and without breaking eye contact, crushed it in his fist. "You filthy fucking pig shit." He spoke lowly and deeply, the director trembled violently in fear before a puddle began to form from a flowing stream that soaked the inner lining of his jeans. Soldier Boy's nose turned up with disgust and his teeth clenched. "Get the fuck out before I snap your dick off and shove it down your throat." The man was scrambling to leave, almost sliding and falling on his own puddle of piss. "So, it's perfectly fine for you to dehumanize me, but not anyone else, right?" You ground out, running your hands through your hair and ruining the styling done by the beautician. At this point, the commercial was going to be shit anyways. "That the only way you can forgive yourself for being a massive asshole." Soldier Boy cracked his neck as he returned to his position from before. "Why don't you shut that pretty little mouth of yours." "Or, what? What are you gonna' fuckin' do?" "Find a better use for it." He shrugged, and you didn't miss the extremely satisfied glow about him as he then took a seat in the director's chair. "Alright, so..." He crossed his legs, "Let me explain my vision..." He reached his pointer and thumb out in an 'L' shape and framed your image. "You have a secret and your secret is..." He chuckled to himself, the hand retreating to press a fist over the giant grin that began to split his face. "You like to wear lingerie under your suit." "Are you fuckin' shittin' me right now?" You weren't able to control the flash of light in your eyes, only burning hotter as you rose once more. Soldier Boy became serious again, lips curling back into a firm line. "Now hold up." "I don't have to deal with this bullshit." Your eyes filtered red glowing light and it wasn't going away this time. Sure, Soldier Boy was stronger than you, faster even, but that didn't mean you weren't the second strongest. You were going to give him hell. You stepped down from the stage and he popped up from the chair to grab your arm. "You're staying." "I'm leaving." You snarled back, you recalled your self defense training and you flung your hand out to break his hold. His eyes darted to yours, there was a stern warning within them. You didn't give two fucks anymore, and with a quick twist you were skillfully exiting his hold. Soldier Boy nearly dropped to the ground from the force of your spin, you were already bypassing the puddle of piss and making your way out of the studio. "Fuckin' Bitch!" You hadn't expected him to retaliate the way he did. Your hair was snatched in an iron fist and you were being slung halfway across the studio. The obsidian floor crackled as you hit the ground, your body rolling away. When you recovered briefly, Soldier Boy was approaching in a furious step. He grabbed your hair again to rise you to your feet and you winced as he forced you to stare up at him. "You're going to fuckin' do-" With clenched teeth, you wrapped both of you hands around the forearm of the hand that gripped you. "Not a chance." And using his firm arm for support, you lifted your leg high enough to kick him hard across the face. Hard. He bulked in surprise, releasing you instantly as he stumbled back. Wide eyed and shocked, he lifted his bare fingertips to the blood that poured from his nose, glaring between the red liquid and you. You smirked, having felt really good after that first hit and you knew it wasn't over. "Okay, you want to dance?" He held his fists up, "Let's dance." You came rushing towards him, utilizing your weight and taking him off guard with an aggressive attack. Your legs looped around his neck and you yanked with all of your strength to pull him to the ground. He punched you in the stomach and easily threw you off of him. Only he threw you across the room once more, at the stage. Your body demolished it from the force, the camera crew deciding that was time to run away and vacate the room. Outside the viewing windows a crowd began to form as Soldier Boy and you continued to fight each other. You punched him across the jaw, he kicked your side, bruises were forming that no one else could inflict on either of you. Eventually, another pointed hit to his chest and he was stumbling back from you, you both stood a few feet from each other, breathless and staring, surrounded by a massacred studio. "Alright," He nodded his head, sniffling back the bloody nose, he placed a palm on his chest as he rose to his full height. "Respect is due, I might have gone a little overboard." "Overboard?" You growled, this was worse than a little. "Are you backing down?" He clenched his teeth and cocked his head at you, a dark look dawning in his hazel gaze. "I never said that, ya' dumb cunt." "Ah, cunt? Now, we're using big boy words." You cracked your knuckles, "I'm not done with you. So stop holding back your fucking punches and let's do this." You might had spoken too soon because you hadn't anticipated him releasing a massive battle cry as he charged towards you. You held your palms up, a moment of shock putting you at a disadvantage. He charged you all the way across the length of the studio and through a thick wall that entered into the adjacent hallway. You groaned, feeling an all too heavy weight resting on your body. And it was only then you remember that you were naked, because you felt a hot breath fan out across your nipple. You lifted your head and looked down, Soldier Boy had dropped onto your body from the impact. "What the fuck?!" The both of you startled, heads darting in the direction of the painfully familiar voice. There, in the hallway, stood the Legend himself, surrounded by four businessmen dressed in fancy suits. "Urg-Uh-Um-" You sputtered, frantically curling your legs in as much as you could with Soldier Boy's body largely covering you. "It's not what it looks like." Soldier Boy grunted as he propped himself up by his arms locking on either side of you. "If you'd let me explain..." The Legend was stepping forward, peeking into the hole that your fight had caused. You flicked the side of Soldier Boy's head and he twitched, shooting a glare at you. "You fuckin' idiot, now look what you've done." You whispered in a hiss, he snarled lowly at you. Part of you wanted to tell him to get off, but regrettably he was the only thing keeping you somewhat protected from prying eyes. "What I've done?! I was trying to make amends." "Too late for that now, dipshit." "Why you little-" "In my office!" The Legend yelled, practically red in the face, you had never seen him so angry before. He propped his hands on his hips and turned to you two. "In. My. Office. Now." Soldier Boy went to stand and as goosebumps curdled your flesh, you grabbed his shoulders to stop him. He sent you a questioning grimace, before then giving your entire body a once over. He rolled his eyes at your own pleading glare, before he gathered you up in his arms and carried you back through the hole. "Unbelievable! You two are full grown adults for fuck's sake!"  Fast forward an hour later, you had dressed into a modest pair of baggy pants and a sweater, then headed to the Legend's office to get what you would assume to be an ass beating. The Legend wasn't there yet, but a bruised up, helmetless Ben was sitting at one of the two chairs sat in front of the Legend's desk. You quietly closed the door behind you, then sat down in the chair beside him. He always looked so different without his helmet; fluffy tufts of brown hair settled about his head, jaw line accentuated by the stubble that coated his chin. For some reason without the mask, he appeared more... human, if that was even possible. After the events of today you thought the man was a monster.   The door to the office clicked open to reveal a fuming VP. He stormed into the room, slamming the door behind him, bypassing his leather chair to begin a harsh pace. "You two, man! You two are something else!" You shuffled in your seat, crowning your fingers in your lap. No matter how much power you had, no matter how fragile this man was compared to you, he never ceased to strike fear into you, as if to admonish you like a father figure. The same went for Ben, who had been around longer than you, having known the Legend since he first was appointed VP of Hero Management. "They've calculated the damages, you guys want to know?!" He leaned across his desk, glaring between you two. "Twenty-five grand." He scowled, flinging his hands up. "You destroyed equipment, thousands of dollars in Vought production gear. The structural integrity of the entire fifty-first floor is in question, people are fucking afraid the ceiling is gonna' fall on them, huh? How 'bout that?" Soldier Boy splayed his legs out, a fiercely bored expression dragging his eyes into slits. "So what's the big deal, here? Vought can fix that easy, no problem." He shrugged, tonguing the inside of his cheek. "Let's just get to the point where you slap us on the wrist and send us on our way." "Oh no! No you fuckin' don't!" The Legend shook his head, pointing a dangerous finger. Soldier Boy sighed, burying his face into the palm of his hand. "You two are paying for it. It's coming out of your paychecks." "What?!" You shouted, jumping up slightly in your seat. "But it wasn't even my fault. It was him!" Soldier Boy shook his head, not even bothering to glare at you. "Each!" Soldier Boy slammed a fist into the armrest, his chair creaked as he barely was able to restrain himself from hitting it full force. "You break my chair, I'll deduct that too!" An eerie silence followed the threat, the Legend allowed it to linger in the air. "Now..." He huffed in exasperation. "I don't know what the fuck went on between you two, but you need to fix it. Today! Because so help me, I find out you two are fighting again, I'm putting the both of you on hero duty." "That's bullshit!" Soldier Boy groaned. "For a month!" The Legend added, effectively silencing Soldier Boy completely. "Get the fuck out of my office!" Begrudgingly, Soldier Boy and you dragged yourselves out, meeting side by side as the door slammed shut behind you. In a burst of anger, you punched Soldier Boy in the shoulder. Hard. He shifted on his feet a bit, but did not relent. "I hate you!" "Well, that's fine, because I fuckin' hate you too!" "No!" You shoved him, but having been more prepared this time. He planted himself, you got up right in his face. "I mean, I really, really hate you! Like I hate you so fuckin' much, lookin' at your face makes me wish I was blind! You don't even know how much I hate you." Your faces were an inch part, maybe less. You having to stand on your tippy toes to reach him, but still tilting your head back to meet his heated gaze. "Don't make me slap you again, woman." He warned, as if that was going to stop you. You might had been hurting from your previous altercation, walking around with horrible bruises up your ribs and that one bruise at the very edge of your jaw, but you wouldn't back down for nothing at this point. "Ha, that the best you got. It's not like I'm gonna' feel it anyway." "God, you're so fuckin' hot." You blinked, neck craning back. He was giving you the most sultry expression, chomping at the bit for a piece of you. Your stomach twisted, but the warmth that seeped through your insides deceived you. "You're disgusting." You shook your head, striding forward just as his gloved hand snatched your wrist. "Look, I don't regret a damn thing I've done today." You pulled your wrist in, stepping closer into his body. "That's real good for you, bud. Says a lot about your character. Want me to give you a nice pat on the shoulder?" A pat so hard that you'd hopefully break him this time, no matter how impossible. "Hardy-Har." He sassed, "Why do you keep denying me? We both know you want a piece of America's ass, just like everybody else." You shoved a fisted hand against his chest, the same hand he had a hold of. "Yeah, no. I want nothing from you. You've taken every chance you possibly could to humiliate me, disrespect me, toss me around, and today-today you did your worst." You dropped your chin, hiding the fresh tears that began to shed. "If you'd just show an inch of human decency, maybe everybody wouldn't hate you so much." You chanced a glance up at him, a tear shedding down your cheek, you were met with the face of petulant child. "Honey, I can show you a lot more than just an inch." Defeated. You slowly retrieved your hand, his grip loosening just enough for you to slide it out of his grasp. "One day, Ben, you're gonna' need help..." You clasped your hands to your chest, rubbing your wrist with the other. "Very funny, I don't need-" His scoff was swiftly cut off. "Well, one day you will." You tersely shot back, "And no one is going to come save you, no one is going to care. Maybe then, hopefully, you'll realize how much you fucked up."

Return to Master list

#the boys #payback #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy #mindstorm #tommy #gunpowder #swatto #the legend #crimson countess #reader #vought international #oc hero name

[seeds-and-sins]

Don’t Say Goodbye

Pairing: Eduardo “Lalo” Salamanca x GN!Reader

Rating: PG (Mutual Pining, relatively tame romantic energy)

Description: You’re relaxing after a long day, it’s late, and then someone comes knocking at your door.

Author’s Note: This is kind of short, but I am willing to elaborate if anyone wants. I wrote this to incite some inspiration in another work of mine, also Lalo related.

From Mexico With Love

Wait for Me

Knock. Knock. Knock.

  You flinched, but only because you hadn't been expecting any visitors this late at night. You slowly put down the bowl of popcorn you had been snacking on, eyes trained entirely on the door. The only light to rely on streaming electric blue from your television.

Knock. Knock. - Knock. Knock. Knock!

Your hand snuck under one of the fluffy pillows on your couch and you stoically procured the handgun you always kept within reach. You inhaled a deep breath, keeping the gun close to your hip as you rose to approach the door. The TV played loudly in the background, muting each creak and patter of the floorboards beneath your bare feet. Your finger toyed at the trigger and you tucked behind the door as your free hand grasped as the knob.

Uno. Dos. Tres.

You swung the door open, holding your body behind it for a decent amount of cover, the gun still pinned at your hip. You felt instant relief at the sight of a familiar face. You pulled the door open completely and rushed into him for a hug.

"Eduardo!" He chuckled, arms wrapping around you. Swiftly one of his hands dropped down the length of your arm to swipe the gun from your fingers.

  "What the hell were you doing with this? Huh?" He grinned, teasing you with it when you tried to reach for the gun. 

"You could had been anyone!" You laughed, feeling like a bullied child as he dangled the loaded weapon over you. "Lalo, stop making fun of me." He conceded, lowering the gun back into your grasp. You then gave him another hug. Eduardo made you feel secure, warm, you knew that if he was near, nothing could hurt you. "I'm so happy to see you got out, those pigs are too stupid to get one up on you."

"You gonna' shoot me with this thing?"

"Of course! Nothing can keep me, I'm a Salamanca." You tucked your arm around his back and attempted to guide him into your home. He wouldn't budge. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you withdrew slightly to send him an expectant stare. He was frowning now, so suddenly the delight of seeing you again was absent from him.

"What's wrong?" It was then you noticed Ignacio, waiting in his car that was parked out by the curb. "Did something happen? You want me to go get dressed, I'll check it out with you guys?" He didn't answer, he didn't make a move, his sharp brown eyes burned two holes straight through you. You hesitantly stepped back from him, nodding your head in understanding. "You're leaving." You knew this day would come, you just didn't think it would happen so suddenly. You wished you had more time.

"It's only a matter of time before they find out who I am..." He cocked his head from side to side. "But this won't be the last of me." He pointed to punctuate his words. "It will only be a few months, until the heat dies down.” 

"Well, uh..." You smiled, patting a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be missed." You cared about Lalo, but you knew this business and attachments were never a good idea. You needed to let him go, it was your job. You tucked your gun into your shorts, wedging it between your belly and the waistband of your underwear. When your eyes met his again, his lips were quirked up in a soft smile and he was considering you with a certain fondness. The same smile that made your heart skip a beat and heat blossom in your cheeks. "I guess it's back to Nacho Nada." You gestured loosely in Ignacio's direction, waving awkwardly at him when your eyes met from a distance. He didn't look too comfortable, or happy. 

"Nacho Nada?" Lalo laughed, one eyebrow lifting in question. 

"Yeah, it's what Tuco and I call him: all work, no play, nada divertido." Lalo glanced back at Nacho and smirked, turning back to you. 

"I like that. Nacho Nada." You crossed your arms and diverted your gaze to the concrete path leading up to your home. "Hey..." The soles of Eduardo's expensive shoes scuffed at the pavement as he stepped closer. His fingers pinched delicately at your chin and lifted your gaze. "I would ask you to come with, but there will be a lot going on. That doesn't mean you can't always come visit another time." 

"I would like that." You grabbed his wrist and turned his palm up to lay a tender kiss there. "You can finally teach me how to cook the Salamanca way." He snorted, making no effort to remove himself from your touch.

"Maybe. A good magician never reveals his secrets." You both laughed at that, until it died down to a stark silence. You rose your other hand up to cup his cheek and he leaned into you.

"You'll call me, right?" You whispered, caressing the dimple alongside his lips with your thumb.

"You know I will." You watched his Adam's apple bob, his hand twisting to grab yours and caress your knuckles. "Nacho will be coming with me for a few days. You'll be okay taking care of everything?"

"You know I will." You recited his words back to him. Part of you burning to crush those few inches that separated you both. All the time spent together, all the bonding, the growing trust, the unrelenting protectiveness over one another, and neither of you had shared such an intimate moment as this. 

"Take care of yourself, cielito." 

"I promise." He nodded, reluctantly withdrawing himself, his expression hardened and he slowly turned to walk away. 

He looked at you one last time before entering the vehicle. Little did you know, that would be the last time you ever saw Lalo Salamanca.

#eduardo salamanca x reader #lalo salamanca x reader #gender neutral reader #ignacio varga #bcs #Better Call Saul #eduardo salamanca #lalo salamanca #one shot

[seeds-and-sins]

The Only Truth - Series

Pairing: Oz “The Penguin” Cobblepot x F!Reader

Rating: T (Curse words, implied sexual relationship, betrayal, adult themes)

Description: Oz trusted you-Only you-With his livelihood, with his business, with his heart. And you betrayed him in the worst way possible.

Author’s Note: This is a little work in progress. Nothing is for certain, but it was just a thought I had to articulate into a story. I plan on adding little one shots here and there, involving different periods of time within this relationship.

Second

Third

You envied vengeance, anonymous justice felt so much sweeter, to put on a mask and pretend that you had done something worth celebrating. There was no glory in this, no victory, you were a traitor, a pig, one of them, and for what? Some stupid job where you walked around with a flimsy badge bowing your hip. Part of the so called special club that didn't pay well and had no real benefits. Your fingers twitched over the handgun, neatly holstered at your side. The commotion around you, activating an uneasiness, a caution, everything felt like it was in slow motion; you felt like you couldn't breath, you felt like the heavy weight on your chest far exceeded that of the tactical vest that covered it.

 Gotham City Swat was storming the crowd, club lights flashed, music pumping and pounding in tantum with your growing heart rate, patrons screamed and ran for the exits. It was like interrupting a college frat party on a larger scale: you were watching people hide their drugs, you were watching people hide their faces, you were watching people flea through exits you didn't even know existed. Your entire body was frozen in place, feet planted to the metal floor of the Iceberg Lounge as you stared around with wide eyes, like a deer in headlights.

 Slowly, you lifted your head to the floor space that held at the top of a steep set of metal stairs, overlooking the club. The dim light beamed through it's windows, signaling its lack of vacancy, you wished that wasn't the case. You cared little for anyone else, cared little for the drugs, the money, the criminals and dirt bags that prowled the Iceberg Lounge. There was only one man that you really cared for, and you hurt for him, you hurt for this moment that had been so many years in the making. Your feet moved of their own volition, tears streamed down your cheeks as you walked. This was your operation and so this would be your burden.

 Your opposite hand clutched onto a piece of paper, scribbled on with black ink, yet, carrying the entirety of the events unfolding around you. Wasn't that insane? To think that a single document could cause so much, that a mere signature had the ability to metastasis your grief. You had never thought you'd make it this far, but the day you realized you would, you could only imagine guilt and sorrow. Your boots thumped with each lift to the metal stairs, sounding out beneath you as you rose. Once at the top, you glanced one more time at what was happening below, hundreds of people attempting to vacate as the team searched for specific faces and specific items. It was a chaotic scene, and it was all your doing. You closed your eyes and sighed, your nostrils inhaling again the scent of sweat and booze that permeated the club's atmosphere.

Your freehand gripped the railing, attention turning to the dark hallway that split two ways; one leading to the changing rooms and the other leading to the man you had been dreading the thought of ever having to face again. You carried onward, somehow, despite yourself. The darkness enveloping you from the flashing lights, you passed through a wave of beads as you approached your destination. Each step forward wounded you, like being stabbed over and over again, except not by an enemy or an opposing force, but by yourself. The tears left trails that painted your cheeks, glistening off the plush skin, dripping off the edge of your jaw.

  There was only light at the end of the hallway, even as brief sputters of color filtered through the lengthy windows that spanned the walkway. You could hear him then, pacing, muttering something to himself, and the sound of his voice almost stopped you. Perhaps he was on the phone, making an important call, tying up some loose ends, the one that got away. There was no getting away from what you had done. When the light of his office streamed out across your skin, revealing your presence at the entrance, he stopped completely. His dark eyes met you and you could read the mixture of emotions that flowed from him; rage, misery, confusion. His face wrinkled, he was on the phone, he quickly hung up and shoved it in the breast pocket of his suit.

"Well, go on, honey..." He snarled, "Place is yours to scope out so I've heard." In all the time you had known Oz, never was his anger directed toward you. And understandably, you couldn't blame him. For so long, you whispered sweet words into his ear, you kissed his scars and soothed his loneliness, all leading up to the one day you would betray him.

"I-" It took you a moment to find your voice, and the tears streaming down your cheeks might had been crocodile tears in his eyes. "I-I have a warrant." You held up the document, which he didn't even take a second to acknowledge. He scowled deeply at you, closing his eyes and turning away.

"I don't give a fuck. Do what ya' gotta do and get the fuck out'a here." There was no apology that could make up for this. He welcomed you into his embrace, into his home, had even offered you a diamond ring worth more than any amount of income you had collected in this worthless job. He called you sweetheart and kissed your forehead and told you about himself, told you more than anyone ever knew. Yet, here you were, nothing to him now. All of that love, true love that you held for him, it meant nothing. Not after this. Not after having finally revealed yourself to him.

  You remembered the last time you spoke, you hadn't seen him for a few days and he was genuinely worried about you. The both of you did live together after all, and he always knew where you were in some fashion. If the twins weren't watching over you for protection, then he was there and if he wasn't there, then he was surveilling your location via phone. With the raid just around the corner, you knew you needed to get out of there before Oz suspected you in some way. It was the worst thing you had ever done, even worse than turning down Oz's proposal in a crowded room.

He was scared. You heard his resolve wavering over the phone as he spoke to you.

Come home, baby. I'm worried about ya’. Whatever it is going on, we can fix it together.

No. You saw what Oz did to cops, you revealing yourself as one would only put a target on your back, the worst kind. No matter how much you wanted to tell him, you knew that it wouldn't end the way you wished. You wished it could be so simple, you could remain with Oz as your real self, be with him like you had found yourself wanting to more and more with each passing day. But the reality was this: he was a crime lord, you were a cop, neither mingled, neither could. In his world, you should be dead. In your world, he should be in jail.

It was over.

"Oswald?" You cried that night. "No matter what happens, I need you to know that I love you. I love you so much."

"Honey, sweetheart, my love, you know I love you too. What's wrong?! Did someone threaten you? Did I do something you didn't like?! Talk to me, please. Please come back home."

You hung up on him.

Home. Home had become wherever he was. For seven years! Home was where he was! If he was with you, you were home. The materialistic belongings that you had acquired over the years, they didn't even matter, none of it mattered. The flat screen TVs, the expensive and custom made furniture, the classic paintings that he would buy for you just because he could, the loads of jewelry, the giant bathtub, the dresses and shoes and purses; all luxuries that had become your shared splendor with none other than the man you were supposed to be incriminating.

It was easy in the beginning, another job, another attempt at putting away one of the most proficient crime bosses in Gotham City. But then you started to fall in love and then he, the man that loved no one and nothing, he started to fall in love too. You had thought your tears were spent, cried out of you, every last drop in the days leading up to this, but they ceased to have an end. Even as your eyes hurt and your body ached and your heart exploded with pain.

  You quietly tucked the paper away in your back pocket, beginning your search. You wanted to throw up as he watched you with a narrowed glare that burned straight through you. Being his significant other all these years, had garnered you access to all of his stashes. You knew where he kept his unlicensed guns, the stacks of cash, the considerably large amount of drugs that he would disperse throughout the club through his waitresses. With gloved fingers, you shoved these items into a large box you had pulled from the corner of the room. You held back sobs the whole time, lifting the couch cushions, opening secret compartments, procuring bugs that you had planted ages ago. You could only imagine what he was thinking.

  The both of you had good memories in this room and he probably thought all of it was fake, he probably thought that all of it meant nothing. Trying to argue that point would only anger him more, he hated you now and he always would. Explaining to him that your trained persona was actually who you really were, only under a different alias, would make no difference. He had given you loyalty and care and love, the likes of which he never gave anyone else and, in his eyes, you had burned it to the ground.

  You halted at the table closest to the window that overlooked the club, your eyes catching the golden tray where he kept all of his jewelry; his rings, his watches, golden chains, the man enjoyed looking expensive. There, resting on top of the pile, was the watch you had gotten him all those years ago. It was at the beginning of your relationship, you wanted to impress him. Engraved on the side was none other than the words from one of your favorite poems, by Luíz Vaz de Camões: Love is a fire that burns unseen. You thought it might had been too soon at the time, but when he saw it, all your doubts were put to rest. He wore it everyday and seeing him without it only solidified the damage that you had done.

"Yeah, you can take that too." He gestured dismissively at the object that you held between your fingers. The object he once coveted as if it was his own heart. "S'not like it came from a place of love, right? Just another tactic to weasel your way into my good graces." You bit your bottom lip when it wobbled, using the back of your wrist to wipe the tears away. You must had looked so weak and vulnerable in that moment, pathetic even. This was what you wanted all those years ago, remember? When they were looking for someone to go undercover, you agreed to this. You agreed to enter the Penguin's ranks, feigning friendship and later adoration. You wanted to see your name in the papers, you wanted to get a promotion. Little did you know that you'd end up being such a mess for it. Be careful what you wish for, karma biting you in the ass seven years later. You were a different person now.

 You lifted your watery gaze, attempting to be strong in the face of his disgust and irritation.

"I'd really like you to have it." You whispered, voice cracking as you spoke. Oswald licked his lips, his eyebrows furrowed and he stepped into whatever space was left between you.

"You're kidding me, right?!" He hissed, inches from your face, "Do you have any idea what you've fuckin' done? Hmm?" He stepped closer, his body pressing closely to your side now. "Do you understand what's happened here?" You gulped, having to glance away for a moment and collect yourself before looking to him again.

"You can hate me all you want, wish me dead, do your worst. I know what I've done, I know the consequences of my ways." You gritted your teeth, a bad taste on your tongue. "But..." Your breath hitched and you had to take a deep breath. His cologne flooded you like his warmth, it took all of your will power not to lean into him for security and affection. You had missed him all these days, but you knew that things would never be the way that they once were. "I beg you to keep this. Please." You held the watch out to him, hoping he would take it.

"What? You got a tracker in there? A listening device, o' some shit?! Seems like you got one everywhere else!"

"Oz-"

"Don't fucking call me that!" He snarled, causing you to flinch away, then so abruptly he paced with hard strides to the other end of the room. "Seven years, and you act like it meant nothing! You come in here with your fake tears and your big badge and you act like everything is right as rain!"

"I don't know what to tell you." You placed the watch down in the bowl and hesitantly spun to face him. "There's nothing I can say, or do, to make this better."

"You're fucking right there isn't! Your words mean nothing to me now! You're a liar!" You clenched your fists at your sides as he continued to scream at you, just as you expected he might. "I hope you watch your back! Because I'm not gon' kill ya', but someone is gonna want you dead. You understand that?!"

"You don't have to remind me." You chewed the inside of your cheek, gathering the box you had put together.

"Goddammit!" His hand grabbed his hip and swiped the other across his face. "What the fuck?!" He shook his head, "Seven years and you didn't think to tell me this shit! You didn't think to mention: Ey, by the way, I'm a fucking cop!"

"There was nothing I could do about it! I tried to get out, I did..." You went to the station, you begged the commissioner to end the investigation, you begged them to end this. "I didn't want this."

"But look at where ya' are, look at what you're doin'. You're killin' me here, this is killin' me." His chest heaved with heated breathes, for a brief moment, his eyes softening on your hunched and distraught form. He closed his eyes and his head tilted in discomfort from to side, he winced. "FUCK!" He yelled, "I gave you everything. I would have given you the world if you asked for it."

  Oz didn't have a good knee, oftentimes he needed to wear a brace beneath his pant suits to accommodate the handicapped limb. But when he asked you to marry him and to be with him for the rest of your lives, he got down on one knee. You wanted to say 'yes', instead you cried. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at you.

I hope those are happy tears.

He had teased, smiling nervously and expectantly. Getting down on one knee was a task for him, in and of itself, but he did it for you. They weren't happy tears. You couldn't marry him and then instantaneously crush him all the same. It had gone too far. When you shook your head, his smile instantly faded. You both might had shared the same penthouse, but he didn't talk to you for days, even when you tried to explain yourself. The pain he felt then was nowhere near the pain he was feeling now.

His whole life, he had always been lesser in the eyes of others. On the streets, he worked his butt off to make a name for himself, to prove to others that he was a force to be reckoned with. And it worked. After that, all he needed to do was bide his time and wait. He hadn't anticipated Falcone being dropped dead by a bullet to his chest, but then that was his chance. It took him no more than a year to take over Gotham's criminal underworld completely. And when he did, he decided it was time to pop the question. He had everything, he could give you everything. When you turned him down, it only made him realize that he still wasn't good enough. Now this?! Come to find out, you were undercover this whole time. You were a parasite, on the inside, leaking info without a care in the world.

Why did you smile then? That smile that once warmed his cold heart. Why? Why was it that you let him hold you so dearly? Why did you not shy from his touch? Why did you crave him?

You must had been a great actor.

Because who would ever want someone like him? Without motive, who would want to be with him? No one. Being King of Gotham was a lonely position to hold, where he once thought you his Queen, he no sooner realized you were just another snake in his garden, another Judas like anyone else could be.

"I'm a terrible person, the worst kind." You muttered, blinking more wetness from your eyes. "I'm done here." You turned to leave, but he called you by your alias and stopped you in your tracks. That wasn't your name, but it might as well had become who you were. He had called you by it for so long, you would have forgotten your real name if not for the conversations you had weekly with the intel department of the GCPD.

"I should kill you." He announced, you calmly faced him, box tucked to your side.

"You should..." You sniffled, "Not sure I'll be able to live after this."

"Sure ya' won't." He scoffed, just another lie to him. "Ya'know, this might not matter to some pig like you, but I loved you. Fuck it, I still love you." He shook his head, "And that's why I can't kill you, no matter how much I want to right now. No matter how much I want to stick a bullet between your eyes." He closed in on you, like a predator to its prey, salivating at the mouth for a taste to watch you suffer. And you deserved it. "You live by the good grace of what's left of my goddamned heart." His frown deepened, emphasizing the wrinkles in his face and the pronounced divots of his scars. You gasped when his palm rose up to cup your cheek, he shook his head as his sight traced over every feature and little micro expression on your face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You would have hated me just the same as you do now." You whimpered, your eyelids slid shut and you rested your cheek into his palm. "And I never had the guts to pull the plug. I didn't want it to end."

"I don't even know who ya' are." His voice was raspy and low, cracking at the seams, you had broken him.

"Perhaps it's better that way." When your eyes opened, you saw liquid droplets brimming his own. You had never seen him cry before, never. You were his weakness, the one thing he always feared losing. This was far worse than ever losing you.

"Go fuck off to the hole you came from. I never want to see you again." His hand fled your cheek, burying itself into a pocket inside his suit. From there he procured a small box. "And one last thing..." He carelessly dropped it in the box. "It was worth a small fortune, I'm sure you can pawn it for a good price."

"Oz-"

"Get out! Now!" As you trudged out of his office and back through the weaving path you followed once before, you felt completely devoid of yourself. You didn't know how you were even moving, you felt disconnected as words passed through your ears, the music still in beat, clubgoers continuing to make their exit.

Soon you were out in front of the Iceberg Lounge, carrying a box. With nothing but pain and grief for what you had done.

"Did you do it?" Gordon asked as he approached, squinting at you, he could tell you weren't well. Before entering the club, you announced that only you would be confronting Penguin, now you wished you had done the cowardly thing in not showing up at all.

"It's all here." Your voice cracked, face freshly wet as you blinked at him and extended the box. He sent you a somber nod in understanding, accepting the evidence you had collected. "Jim, I-" You sighed, retrieving the small box that Oswald had thrown in with the other items of importance. You then proceeded to remove your rubber gloves, carelessly tossing them over your shoulder. Next, you grabbed your gun and your badge, placing them gently into the box despite them disrupting the evidence there. "Tell the big man I'm done."

"(Y/N)?" His confusion didn't accomplish it's goal in altering your decision, your mind had been made up. "I'm sorry." He followed, instead of trying to berate you for having feelings as you knew any other cop would. In your world, Oswald Cobblepot was seen as scum. In your heart, he was the man you loved and cared about and betrayed.

"I'll call you." Gordon nodded and you accepted that as closure enough. You held the small velvet box firmly in your grasp as you squeezed through the sea of police officers once more.

You wished the universe wasn't so cruel. You wished Gotham city's justice wasn't served cold. You wished you had given up the badge years ago.

Maybe then you wouldn't be holding a ring that signified the end of the best thing that ever happened to you.

#oz cobblepot x reader #the batman 2022 #the batman #oz cobblepot #reader #comissioner gordon #one shot series

[seeds-and-sins]

Could I request a fic with homelander & a female reader, whom was brought in as a child to basically be John's "little doll". Perhaps they reinforced her body and made her "durable" so she wouldn't break easily. Also I think it'd be interesting if she had powers like Mantis where she can completely understand and influence emotions (with direct physical contact). And that, that's why Vought created her for John in the first place, so that he "would have something to love and that would love him back". she also has a strong dependence on John cuz she fears abandonment, loneliness, and being betrayed so her way of expressing her feelings to him is by displaying physical contact and constantly letting John know how much she loves "belonging" to only him and how much she loves him, pulling him aside to simply hug him since all she wants is to be "closer to him".

Sadly Earth Scene

Paring: Homelander x F!Reader

Rating: M (WARNING: Abusive relationship!!! And brief mentions of sexual content. Also, Cursing.)

Description: You were a project, never meant to aspire for anything more than servitude. Your whole life depended on him, your whole existence. What would you ever do without him?

Author's Note: Finally! I am crying inside because it took me way too long to get this finished. I wrote it at least three different ways and then I decided to just mesh all those different options into one. I hope it's worth it because I definitely know the asker has been waiting for this. I actually might even pursue a second part, but life is killing me right now. We will see what the tide brings in. Enjoy!!!

Rats, mice, monkeys, cats, dogs, animals of all species, of all shapes and sizes, have been used in the name of science for centuries. Vogelbaum's main studies focused with that of rats and mice, the pharmaceutical industry realizing that those particular animals were most akin to their needs. Monkeys being too loud, sometimes too big, not quite biologically meeting the parameters of what Vogelbaum was attempting to accomplish. Rats and mice, small rodents, reproduced and grew at an efficient rate. Not to mention, they had similar genetic coding to that of humans, making them perfect subjects for the likes of experimental medicines and other projects. It was through rats and mice that Vogelbaum had developed an idea, or rather, a solution.

It was in a recent study that scientists had found that keeping rats and mice in the same pen carried little influence on their growth and reproductive rates. Biologically, nothing changed. Behaviorally, nothing changed. Two different species, perhaps from the same family, were capable of coexisting with one another without any repercussions. To most, the discovery was meager and bore no true necessity. However, Vogelbaum saw the study as an act of brilliance. It fueled his curiosity.

Rats and mice, in the same pen, together.

What would be the results if he were to do such a thing with his more sentient subjects? Rely more on social ecological theory in interdependence of one another: children connect with the parents, then to the home, then they make friends at school, at their local church, with the neighbor across the street.

John killed so many of his caretakers. Not even Vogelbaum's most established scientists were able to enter the cell without fearing for their lives. By the time the boy was ready to be released, he would have no sympathy for humanity, no love in his heart. It wasn't as if Vogelbaum cared all that much. He created John with the intention of him growing up into a strong hero, a living and breathing Superman, his greatest dream coming to fruition. Who cared how he got there?

But, it was Stan Edgar that insisted that he fix the problem. The problem being that John had already killed dozens of innocents and he was only eleven.

Here was Vogelbaum's solution. Here lied the answer.

If theory was anything to go by, all Vogelbaum needed to do was find someone that John couldn't kill. Much easier said than done.

That was where you came in. Subjects were presented to Vogelbaum of varying ages, some had already undergone changes from Compound V. At first, Vogelbaum had his sights set on someone older, someone that could stand in as a parental figure for John where it was needed. But, his interest peaked when he saw you. Orphan, age ten, Compound V injections age two, accelerated healing, empath. The answer was there, right in front of him: the ability to control the emotion's of others, the ability to empathize. You would be a perfect mice to John's rat. All Vogelbaum needed to do was... reinforce you a little bit, make you stronger, sturdier. You had the healing factor, but you needed more if you were going to survive John.

With some of the finest implements of genetic manipulation and some more injections of Compound V, you would be a treasure. For you the pain would be excruciating, but once it passed you would be everything that Vogelbaum ever could have dreamed of.

The final leg of your journey could end up being your last, but Vogelbaum didn't care about the success. If his experiment failed, he would start again. It was all part of the process after all, trial and error.

"Who are you?" Shoved into the twelve by twelve lead cell that housed John, you were clueless, frightened, lost. Was this another horrible test? Another injection of V that would leave you twitching and crying on your metal slab of a bed for days on end.

The boy before you stared blankly, he had never seen someone his age before, someone so small and fragile. He wondered what test this was for him. Did they want him to kill you? Laser through your insides, rip you to shreds, remove your head from your body, break your back? He could do those things.

"W-Who are you?" You asked in a whisper, pressing yourself as far away from him as you could. Vogelbaum's voice cleared over the intercom system, beady eyes monitoring them from the other side of the two way glass.

"John, I would like you to meet (Y/N). (Y/N) is your friend. She will visit once a week. (Y/N) tell John a little bit about yourself." You gulped, glancing nervously between the mirrored glass and the boy called John. You twiddled your thumbs, heartbeat breaking through your chest. "(Y/N) tell John about your powers." The scientist demanded a bit more firmly. You would have sobbed if not for your survival instincts telling you to suck it up and do as you were told. You don't want to get electrocuted, or worse.

“I-I can feel things.”

“Good girl, just like we talked about.” Vogelbaum praised, “Why don’t you two take some time to get acquainted with one another? Be nice, John. Remember, she’s your friend.” Friend? John had heard about the word and had seen pictures of ‘friends’ during his training sessions. The president was a friend, generals were friends, soldiers were friends, police officers, fire fighters, normal people were friends. Friends had become synonymous with someone that John wasn’t supposed to kill. But a true friend wouldn’t lie to John, a true friend wouldn’t try to hurt him. Right?

“You’re my friend?” The young blue eyed, blonde haired boy lifted his chin, standing straight to assert his power over you. You could feel things, what did that mean? 

“I-I don’t know.” You stuttered, curling yourself inward so as to put yourself in a better position for defense. 

“If you’re my friend, why don’t you know?” He stepped closer and you recoiled further, holding your palms up, your breath quickened. You were lying. John didn’t like liars. You lied like those others, the ones that told him they loved him. “Are you a liar?”

“I don’t think so.” You bit your bottom lip, John remained blank and impassive. He held his hand out to you and his lips quirked up in an almost sickly smile. 

“Take my hand. We can be friends.” You vigorously shook your head, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes. 

“I don’t want to.” The intercom screeched abruptly and Vogelbaum’s booming voice returned.

“What did we talk about (Y/N)?” He spat, you squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. 

“I’m scared.” You cried, turning your head into the cold metal wall.

“Don’t worry...” John chirped, that smile still splitting his boyish face. “I won’t hurt you.” If you were going to lie to him, then he had every right to lie to you. He was convincing, to a young girl that had no one and nothing. He was different than the others: your age, just a boy, no white coats and pointy needles. No one. Nothing. Slowly, albeit hesitantly, you held your hand out. It was the only way you could gage what he was feeling. You could determine if he was a threat from there. 

When your fingers touched his, he was instantly overwhelmed by a whole mess of tingles. He immediately withdrew, jolting away as if he had been stung. His eyes widened, and for the first time he was actually presenting a genuine emotional response. The Doctor took notes. 

“Who are you?!” John shouted, you flinched away, but did not mistake what you had felt. When you touched someone, you felt everything; likewise, they could feel what you did. You could manipulate such emotions to an extent, feelings could be altered to lessen someone’s anger or pain. What you felt in John, wasn’t all that different from what you felt in yourself. You instantly made the connection. John’s reaction on the other hand was-reasonable? You had been born and raised in a pit of Vought’s own creation. As an empath, you had been tested in the art of emotions since the moment you could walk and talk. Your training consisted of constantly being presented subjects. 

What is this person feeling? Can you make them feel like this?...

What if we cut their hand off? Do you feel their pain? Can you make them feel less of that pain?

What if we hurt you? Can you make someone feel what you feel?

You were used to it, your existence having been molded by emotions. But with John, all it took was one touch, and you knew, he was not used to feeling what others felt. He wasn’t short of emotions, but to truly empathize? He had never empathized with anyone. He had been chained down and caged his whole life, experimented on in every way, shape, and form. No one had ever walked into that room, knowing what he felt. And he had never been able to understand how they felt in having the freedom and independence that he never had. 

You sniffled, finally considering the situation that you had been shoved into.

John and you were not so different. In fact, he too was the only other person you had ever met that felt like you did.

“It’s okay.” You straightened yourself, stepping a little closer. You held your hand out again, hoping he would accept it out of curiosity. You did feel that he had intent to hurt you, but you couldn’t blame him after everything he had been through. He felt betrayed, angry, lost, lonely, cold, frightened. He was a brew of everything you felt, and more. Finally, someone’s emotions that were your own. John took your hand, cautiously, but this time his fingers snatched you and his grip tightened like a vice. “STOP!” You screamed, he was on the verge of breaking your hand any second. You poured as much of yourself into the touch as you could, all your pain and all your fear. The results were immediate. John’s entire expression softened, his grip relented. Instead, he held you gently. You winced, knowing your hand would bruise, but surely it would heal in no time at all. 

Then, something astounding happened, the Doctor leaned in closer.

“I’m-I’m Sorry.” John spoke, tentatively, it was his first time ever saying such a thing. Truly. 

Progress. The Doctor thought. And so it was...

“(Y/N)! Jesus Christ! How much trouble is it to get your fucking attention?!” You blinked from your daze, pulling your eyes from the expanse of city below. Your attention darted in John’s direction: he was pacing behind you in a furious step, hair slightly disheveled and violently blue eyes darting about with an unsettling rage. “Did you hear what I fucking said?! Or do you just not give a fuck anymore?!” You shook your head vigorously, immediately jumping to action. The exhaustion from it all was deep in your bones, but your body moved of it’s own accord; some sickening inner instinct, honed after years and years of being at his beck and call. You would do anything for him, and if that meant putting aside your personal needs then you would. That was what you were here for after all. That was why Vought created you: to keep Homelander tame. It was the one job you had been failing at for far too long. No matter how hard you tried, nothing ever seemed to be enough. The only thing that helped you get out of bed everyday was the hope that your efforts weren’t all for naut. 

“No! I always care, you know that!” Your hand rested on his forearm as he paused beside you, fierce glare turned down in your direction. He was unconvinced, so you knew he needed an explanation. “I’m just tired.” You confessed, tone dull and low as your emotions got the best of you. You forced a smile on your lips, hoping that it would lighten the mood. Homelander rolled his eyes before aggressively tugging his arm away and pacing again. 

“Well, go be fucking tired some other time. This is more important!” He began to pace around the table, putting some distance between you both. But even in the gigantic meeting room, everything felt so small and fragile when it was just the two of you. He had the power to make you feel insignificant and, yet, necessary all at the same time. One second he was cracking a joke with you and the next second he was yelling at you over something that annoyed him. Recently, things had been particularly bad for him. With John’s ratings going down, Stan Edgar constantly breathing down his neck, and Stormfront poking a stick at him whenever she had the chance, tensions were high. You had anticipated that John was going to come take it all out on you, his personal punching bag. You simply hadn’t anticipated the scale of his anger when he had called you to the meeting room that morning. It was draining to say the least.

“I’m sorry, John. Keep talking, I’m listening.” The urge to run and hug him was hard to ignore, but you knew it would only serve to make him more irritated. He very rarely ever let you touch him nowadays, and you had long given up trying to convince him that you loved him. The last time the both of you had experienced physical skin on skin contact was probably ten years ago at the least. He used to need you, undoubtedly, coming to you on a daily basis so that you could relieve the overwhelming mass of emotions bubbling in him. There was once a time where he sought you for relaxation and calm. You had once been the constant in his life, his rock to lean on where no one else could withstand his baggage. You had trained for it, had grown up with him, you knew him better than anybody. But, perhaps, it was that revelation that made him begin to push you away; the revelation that you knew him, in ways that no one else did. Instead, these days, he came to you for release of a different sort: mostly for complaining and degrading. There was a constant teeter tottering between him truly seeing you as his friend, but also as his therapist and his property. 

“Oh, you’re listening, now?” He snapped back, lifting a brow at you and scowling. “Suddenly, I’m all that more interesting again?” You visibly softened, shoulders drooping with a harsh exhale. 

“I don’t know what you want from me anymore.” You bit your bottom lip, holding back tears. “I don’t know what to say.” It was the only truth you could muster. There wasn't anything human left and without being allowed to use your powers on him, you could never help.

"Hmm..." His stoic glare penetrated you deep as you waited for some semblance of comfort. God forbid you try to get it from anyone else, he would kill them. He was making his way around and back to you then, within arms reach. "You're so pathetic, do you know that?" He cocked his head, eyes darting up and down your smaller self. You shivered involuntarily at the darkness and the cold that flickered in his eyes. "Would you even know what to do without me?" It didn't take you long to find your answer.

"No."

"That's right..." He confirmed, stepping into your space so he could feign a tender stroke along your cheek. "You need me." You allowed your eyes to flutter shut, his gaze still burning holes into you. As a few minutes of silence passed, his gloved hand painting invisible marks into your skin, you thought about saying it again. I love you. But it would still mean nothing to him. He touched you nowadays like one would touch their pet, and pets were supposed to be obedient. "Now..." His glove squeaked as he clenched his fist and took a step back. Your shoulders flinched when you thought he might lay a blow across your cheek. He knew you could handle it, you would heal fast and he didn't care if you felt pain. The blow never came, he gritted his teeth and turned sharply into his pacing again, fists propped behind his back. "Back to what I was saying, I need you to do something for me." Your eyebrows furrowed, but you swiftly bit the inside of your cheek and hid your confused expression. John never asked anything of you, ever. You mostly were kept around the tower to talk to him. You didn't have a job and your tasks were strictly limited to housekeeping in his penthouse.

"Like what?"

"That's what I was about to fucking explain, if you'd just shut the fuck up." You nodded your head vigorously, twiddling your thumbs out in front of you. One of the tears beat the threshold of your eyelash and began to slide down your cheek, you panicked to wipe it away before he noticed. "Not too long from now, I'll be heading to the set of Dawn of the Seven. Another stupid fucking marketing ploy..." He stopped by the large expanse of window, not far from where you found yourself standing shortly before. "I want you to be there." He clasped his hands firmly behind his back as he nonchalantly spoke those words. You immediately turned your gaze up, your expression clenched in confusion as you considered him.

"Really?" Did you sound far more excited than you should have been? Yes. Homelander never brought you anywhere anymore and it's not like you were allowed to go places you wanted anyways.

"Don't get your hopes up." He rolled his eyes, turning his side to face you and sending you a bored stare. "You'll be working. I want you to find out everything you can about Stormfront. Talk to her, convince her, whatever the fuck you need to do to let me in on her fucking shit. Understood?" You had used your abilities on many others in the past. Vought couldn't deny your importance when faced with a reluctant corporate shareholder or a stubborn politician. However, you had never used your powers on another suoerhero before. You were immediately nervous at the idea. No matter how resilient you were, you were still a fragile soul. What if you messed up? Stormfront was a powerful superhero. She could hurt you. "Is that a problem?"

"I've just..." You gulped anxiously, "I haven't used my powers in at least a year, and what if I mess up?"

"Aww, poor thing." He snickered, "Frankly, I don't give a fuck how you go about doing it. Just fucking do it." Another difference between now and then: Homelander had never sent you out to do something like this. He was usually very protective of you-possessive being the better word for it. "Or, do you not want me to be happy?" You blinked at him. Of course, he always said that to make you budge, to manipulate you into doing what he wanted. And you knew it, and you let it happen. Years ago, when you were both younger, he would tell you: I'm not happy here. I don't know what makes me happy. You'd hold his hand and give him all of the joy you could muster, and then he'd smile. His smiles were far more genuine then. Perhaps it was because he was genuinely feeling happiness.

"I always want you to be happy." You responded, devoid of any emotion and dully spoken.

"Perfect." He grinned, closing in on you to cup your cheeks. "Because if you don't..." He whispered lowly, ducking slightly down till you were face to face. "I will break every bone in your body. And when you heal, I will do it all over again." He pinched your cheek as he shoved past you and vacated the meeting room, knowing full well the effect his threat would have on you in his absence. You dropped your head, thinking about simpler times and missing the Homelander you once knew.

Within the hour, Ashley was dropping by the penthouse to accompany you to the set of Dawn of the Seven. You didn't protest and the whole time she spoke with you, you remained quiet and curled up. She was afraid, you could hear it in her voice. That was what Homelander did to people, he scared them into submission. In their case, they feared him doing his worst: burning them through with his lasor vision, or pulling them limb from limb as they suffered an agonizing slow death. In your case, you feared him discarding you completely, casting you aside, never coming to you again for anything.

"Urgh, isn't this exciting?!" Ashley hollered with feigned excitement, she squeezed your shoulder as you both stood outside of the limo that brought you to the set. "Homelander told me you never leave the tower, so I figure this must be a crazy experience for you. You want a latte, or something?" You faced her finally and shook your head, knowing that she was only appeasing you for the sake of Homelander's approval. You never knew what Homelander called you. There was once a time when he wanted to call you his girlfriend, but Vought refused. Later, Vought then paired him up with Queen Maeve and the two of them seemed to be an item for a while. But, what he called you nowadays, you weren't sure. Part of you didn't even care anymore.

"No, I'm good. Thank you." You reluctantly smiled at her and she returned it.

"Aww, aren't you adorable." She commented, you twiddled your thumbs as she directed her attention briefly to her phone. "I've got to take this, feel free to walk around and help yourself." Ashley strode off in a furious step, lifting the phone to her ear. You inhaled deeply, taking in the expanse of the set out in front. Trailers went on and on for acres and in the distance you could make out a staged destroyed city scape. You decided the quicker you got to completeing your task, the better. You started walking between the trailers, passing employees and sending them friendly waves so as not to come off suspicious. Stormfront wasn't anywhere in sight and neither were any other members of the Seven.

One particular turn and you were being swooped up into a pair of strong and thick arms, your back pressed to something hard and immovable, and it didn't take you more than a second to know who had grabbed you. Gloved fingers pulled up around your throat and a heated breath beat across the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

"John?" You whispered breathlessly, he had for some reason dragged you into a small gap between two trailers, somewhat shaded from the sun that beat heavily over the entirety of the Vought movie grounds. "What's wrong?"

"Have you talked to Stormfront yet?" You shifted, but immediately corrected yourself when the grip on your throat tightened. Your heart was pumping so fast, Homelander hadn't held this close in ages. You rested your hands on his forearm that belted your waist, squeezing at the muscle there. Without his skin touching yours, there was no stopping him from hurting you here.

"Not, yet."

"I thought so..." He growled in your ear, "You think it's fucking funny to parade around like a whore?"

"W-What?" Oh no, what did you do now? You thought you were doing pretty well, all things considered. "I just got here. I'm trying to find her."

"Why did you smile at Ashley? Hmm? And those other pathetic fucks that are moping around? You don't think I wouldn't notice. They're all looking at you. Is that what you want?" Jealousy. You belonged to him, remember?

"John-" He spun you around and slammed you against the trailer wall. The metal dented from the force of his shove, his hand still gripping harshly at your throat, and you winced. When your eyes finally settled on him, you noticed something that chilled you to the bone. John was looking anywhere and everywhere, anything that wasn't at you, and he was almost frantic in his movements as he leaned his weight from side to side. If you touched his cheek, you might be able to gage what he was feeling, but as far as you could see he was extremely disturbed. "I won't smile at anyone anymore, okay?"

"You-You shouldn't." He sternly chopped back, then finally glaring into your soft gaze. His eyes darted across your features, down your body, and then back to your face. "That's it. You're coming with me." He wrapped his arm around your waist and before you could protest you were being propelled up into the air by at least two hundred feet. You squeaked in surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck as he slowly lowered you back down to the ground. It was somewhere else on the set now and not more than a few feet away you saw an awning. Beneath that very same awning were a handful of members of the Seven, including the one you had been looking for.

Homelander was unceremoniously pushing at your lower back, guiding you toward the awning. Homelander had the wildest and fakest grin on his lips as he pushed you toward Stormfront. A-Train was sitting at one of the chairs, a morose looking Queen Maeve alongside him, upon seeing you they both sent you pity filled grimaces.

"Stormfront," Homelander's chipper voice jarred you from your dazed state and your eyes focused on the leather woman in front of you. "I'd like you to meet one of my best friends, (Y/N)." He nudged you forward, Stormfront smiled at you and your brain instantly saw the comparisons in Homelander all too sweet chesire smile.

"Aww, aren't you a sweetheart. I've seen you around the tower, what do you do?" Homelander's fingers slightly followed the curve of your waist and when you didn't respond quick enough he squeezed there.

"Oh-Um-I help Homelander with all sorts of things-Um-"

"Cool, cool, very cool-"

"Anywho," Homelander interjected, quickly losing all interest in the interaction. He did his part in his mind, he introduced the two of you and hurried your misison along just fine. "I have to go run a few errands and was wondering if you guys could watch her for me." He briefly glanced at A-Train and Maeve, but you knew he was mainly referring to Stormfront.

"Absolutely, we'll get some girl talk started." It was so fake it made your stomach churn, and when Homelander withdrew to go 'run some errands', as he had claimed, you found your fingers instinctively grappling onto his forearm. He glared at you, then snorted awkwardly as he used your own grip to drag you back closer to him.

"What the fuck did we talk about?" He husked in your ear, you stood on your tippy toes, till your lips were near his cheek. You were always so careful not to touch his skin, knowing it would set him off.

"I don't like her." You whimpered, "I don't like any-"

"Do as I fucking say, or else." You hesistantly nodded, allowing him to slip through your fingers as he stormed off. The ground rippled with a small quake as he leapt from the ground and sored into the sky.

"So..." Stormfront began, "You guys have an odd friendship, right?" You slowly faced her, she was plopping a few blueberries into her mouth. There was a darkness in her brown eyes that didn't sit right with you. "I'm just asking because, well, I've heard rumors that you're actually just his fuck toy." A-Train was in the middle of sipping a soda, he choked halfway through a gulp and hunched forward in his seat.

"I remembered I needed to be somewhere." He was a fast mover that A-Train, leaving just as soon as he uttered that last word. Maeve crossed her legs and then ducked her forehead into her palm.

"It's alright," Stormfront stepped into your personal space as she glared at the retreating A-Train. "We don't need his kind here anyways." Your entire face went pale, part of you wanted to ask her to specify what she meant, but another part of you was sickened by the idea of her explaining it.

"Come on. Let's talk." She dragged you to one of seats nearby and plopped next to you. Your soul fled your body as she began a one-sided conversation about the super terrorist threat and her job. Dread filled you as you listened to her go on and on, about things that you were certain Homelander didn't really need to know. The whole time she kept making off-handed comments at you, mostly pertaining to what you did and your relationship with Homelander.

"How does it feel to be the cocksleeve to the world's strongest man? I mean, I don't blame you for it, that's your place." Maeve left at some point, meaning that you were alone with Stormfront. After at least two hours of talking, you decided to take a chance and reach out to touch her. If you made her feel more amenable towards you, you could ask her anything and she'll tell you. That's what Homelander wanted, her secrets, right?

"You've got something on your-"

"Don't even think about it." Her once friendly tone had dissolved into disgust. You slowly returned your hand to your lap, squinting at her in wonder. People who knew where you stood, at Homelander's side, but nobody really knew that you were a supe. "Oh, you didn't think I knew?" She sighed, then spread the length of her arm across the back rest of your chair, she leaned in. "I know everything about you, (Y/N). You're a supe created and tailored solely to be Homelander's little fuck doll." Your lips parted to protest, but no words left them.

You were so tired. So very tired.

"Look, like I said, I'm not judging. That's your place, to keep Homelander in check..." Her gloved finger twisted in your hair. "But..." She emphasized, a tight lipped smile sealing her expression. "I can't help but feel like you've kind of failed, hm? Is that what it feels like, at least?" You stood up from your chair and went to flee. You didn't want any part of this conversation, or where it was going, or- "I could help you." She said cooly, just as your back was turned to her, you froze. Hesitantly, you spun back on your heel to face her. You were desperate. For what? You didn't know.

"H-How?"

"You don't really want this, do you?" She snickered, shaking her head and then dropping her gaze with an almost distant expression. "I mean, Homelander certainly doesn't." You stepped closer, feeling hollow and drained.

"I belong to him, I like to belong to him."

"Oh, please..." She rolled her eyes, "You've got some fucked up form of Stockholm Syndrome. It's been, what? Twenty years in the making. Don't think you're in the wrong for wanting anything else. He doesn't love you, he never has. You were gifted to him by the very same people that threw him in a cell for most of his childhood. Seriously, no wonder he hates you." Your eyes burned with tears, but none came. Your tears were all gone, used up, dried up. "You're tired." Stormfront grasped your shoulders as she came to stand, rubbing them up and down with a soothing grip. "Let someone else take care of him now. Let someone who actually deserves to be at his side, take care of him."

"Y-You?"

"Yes. We'll create a new world together, we're perfect for eachother." She huffed as she gave you a once over. "When was the last time he even touched you, a real touch." Years. Years. Years. Oh, how you missed him so much? She was right, he didn't want you. "Don't you want him to be happy?" You tensed at those words, realizing their engrained purpose in your brain. "Go out in the world. Explore." But what would I do without him? "I'll take care of him. You won't have to worry. This is what's best for him."

"I-" You gently removed her hands from your shoulders with light shoves. "I should get going."

"Yeah, of course..." She smiled brightly, "Think about what I said."

You left the set of Dawn of the Seven through Ashley. She seemed hesitant at first, considering that Homelander hadn't given her the okay, but she could see you were distraught about something so she ordered a limo for you. When you returned to the tower, you immediately went to Homelander's penthouse and you proceeded to drag yourself around. You tried watching TV, eating ice cream, listening to music, nothing was making you feel better. Eventually, after a few hours stuck in your thoughts, you began to pack. You didn't expect that Homelander would return for a while, so that gave you plenty of time to write a note, gather your things, and leave. Would he come after you? Would he kill you? Most importantly, would he miss you?

No.

He didn't care about you. He needed someone better, someone stronger, someone he had chosen.

And you needed to get away, you needed to take a break, you needed to know that Homelander wasn't the only person you could rely on anymore.

Your biggest fear: Would Vought come after you? You had never been out in the world on your own before. Would they find you?

You heard the double doors to the penthouse burst open and your breath caught in your throat. You knew you had spent too much time looking at that picture on the wall. Ya'know, the one of Homelander and you when you were young. His arm was wrpaped around your waist and you were buried into his side and he was smiling, genuinely. If the photo were alive to reveal that moment, when after the massive flash, you turned to kiss his cheek and he turned to kiss your lips. There was never any amount of love that you could pour into those kisses that proved yourself to him, that proved how much you cared for him, that proved how much you loved him. It was never enough.

Homelander entered the bedroom, his teeth grinding together as he looked upon the scene before him.

"What do you think you're doing?" He growled lowly, you plopped down on the edge of the bed; the bed was covered in your folded clothes and your toiletries, a suitcase open at the foot. You couldn't meet his gaze, fiddling with your thumb in your lap. "You didn't do anything I asked of you all day. Why shouldn't I punish you?"

"I'm leaving." His head craned back as if he was stung, his face channeled through a series of expressions before he settled on a stoic glare.

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" He clasped his hand behind his back, cape wisping out behind him as he carried forward. "You need me. You don't know what to do without me. You're pathetic." The same words he always said to you, a broken record of insults and degrading comments that you had come to agree with.

"I know." You sobbed, a burst of courage bubbling up from the intense sadness that coiled your insides. You stood, chin up to face him, and the tears were fresh this time. "But why put yourself through this any longer? Why keep me around? You don't want me, you don't need me. I'm a burden everyday, and you're you." You gestured at him with an aggressive swing of your hand, then turned to start shoveling items messily into your suitcase. "It's not good for me to be around anymore. I only remind you of what we suffered through. I only remind you of Vought's attempts to control you. I don't deserve to be at your side, I-"

"Who told you this?" When he spoke this time his voice was cracked, uncharacteristically soft. You didn't dare look at him, too afraid of what it would do to you.

"I thought of it myself." You stopped, realizing he could probably tell if you were lying to him. You were holding a clump of once folded clothes in your shaky hands. "John..." You placed everything down and then finally faced him, your feet shuffling at the navy blue carpet. His eyes were glistening, as if he was about to cry any moment and it threw you for a loop. "I-" You shakily reached out to grab his forearm, eyes focused on the way his muscles twitched under your touch before you looked up at him. "I love you so much. More than you have ever known. But, I'm tired. I'm so tired. You deserve someone better, someone you chose."

"I-I'll-" His eyebrows furrowed in a split second of rage. "I'll find you. You'll never be able to hide from me-"

"Why? Why bother?" You forced a comforting smile on your lips to sooth him, although you were the one that needed soothing. "You know I-"

"I don't know what I'd do without you." He husked out, struggling to utter those into the space that parted you both. You stood there, absolutely gobsmacked, unable to peel your fingers from his arm as your body froze completely.

"W-What?"

"I do need you." He admitted, albeit with some reluctance. You watched as a tear trailed down his cheek. You wanted to hug him so badly, you want to touch his flesh and tell him everything was going to be alright. You wanted to make him better again. "So, stay. I'll do better." You lowered your head, chin pressing to your chest.

"I want to believe you." You whispered and luckily his super hearing could pick up on the faintest of sounds, because the words were barely voiced from the pit of your throat. You spun away from him, toes curling into the carpet, you continued packing. "It's been years, John. Years since I've touched you, years since you've needed me. I've only ever wanted to be closer to you."

You made him feel human, he wanted to say. You made him feel whole, he wanted to say. You made him love, he wanted to say.

But he was Homelander, the strongest man on the entire face of the earth, superior to all, and long ago, he had learned that having you so close made him weaker. Having you around made him human.

At the same time, watching you leave killed him. He didn't know what it was like to die, but this must had been as close as he would ever get to it.

"I can't let you leave."

"Then, kill me, I guess." You released another choked sob and his heart wrung at the sound. You closed the suitcase shut, after shoving in the last of your things. The sound of the zipper rolling on the track, pulling around the case and sealing it shut, it made him wheeze with desperation.

It was the unknown. The unknown of not seeing your face everytime he entered his penthouse. The unknown of having to live without talking to you, sharing light conversations and the occasional jokes he cracked that were in reality quite morbid and unsettling. You wouldn't be around when he needed you. You wouldn't belong to him anymore. You dropped the suitcase to the ground, deciding that any sort of goodbye would not suffice. You slipped on your flipflops and as you were leaving the room...

"Touch me." You gasped, pausing in the doorway. You could hear sifting out behind you and it was Homelander, removing his gloves. "Please."

You faced him, relishing in this moment, but anxious that it might be too good to be true. Should you give in? Or should you proceed to leave? Homelander had never laid himself so bare before you, John had never given you this much in far too long. He sniffled, tossing the gloves on the bed and holding his hands out to you. "Please. Touch me." You relinquished all of your power to him.

You held your hands out the same and as you were within reach, your fingers interlocked an entire explosion of feelings, overwhelming and strong, came through. You looked up into his eyes and began to cry and so did he. Why would he put himself through this? Why would he suffer, when you were there the whole time?

"Oh, John." You cried for him, jumping up into his arms and pressing your lips to his in a chaste kiss. His entire body wracked with a harsh sob and his arms wrapped around you to hold you closer. You would not break the connection, cupping his cheeks and holding your forehead to his. "I wish you had come to me sooner, my poor boy." Your thumbs wiped away as many tears as you could catch, but there were so many. You hadn't seen him cry like this in ages.

"More." He breathed, "I need more of you." He whimpered, tugging at your clothes, you nodded your head vigorously.

You were so tired.

But you would give yourself to him.

#reader #the boys #homelander #vought #the seven #queen maeve #a train #homelander x reader #female reader #stormfront #abusive relationship #conditional love #obession #supe!reader