Twisted

Soldier boy x female reader

one shot

smut, age gape, Butcher’s daughter, soft spot, protective

approximately 8,6K words

AN: first one shot here, hope you like it. Don’t be hard on me I’m new.

story: You tried to hide it. A crush on soldier boy ? Your dad would kill you and you wouldn’t blame him. He was older, he was not a good guy and he was a damn supe. But you couldn’t help it, you felt like you get him better. Well It didn’t matter anyway because your dad betrayed him and killed him. At least, that’s what you thought.

————————

I remembered how it had all started.

My father had gone to Russia with Hughie and all of The Boys. I was the only one who had stayed behind. My old man was the type to never really involve me in his business, even though, one way or another, I always ended up caught in the middle of it. He said he wanted to protect me or something like that.

Then again, if he really wanted to protect me, maybe he’d stop constantly picking fights with Supes and Homelander.

Eventually, I started telling myself it had never really been about me anyway, because whatever drove him had become something sick. He had this constant need to go after the Supes and push his revenge even further.

A revenge that wasn’t really leading anywhere anymore.

All of that to say it had never been about me. Sometimes I even questioned whether it had ever really been about my mother. Because, of course, that’s where it had all started.

She disappeared. My father lost his mind.

Then again, ending up alone with a twelve-year-old daughter to raise while the love of your life had literally vanished into thin air… there was enough there to drive anyone insane.

So I never blamed him for his hunger for hatred and justice.

She was my mother, after all. I loved her too. I wanted to know what had happened to her just as badly. I wanted to understand why, overnight, she was simply… gone. I wanted to know what had condemned me to inherit nothing but blood and anger. That was my life. My father. His hatred. His obsession.

He loved me.

But he loved me less than he hated Homelander and the Supes.

It had never been about me.

It had always been about something buried deep inside him, something that consumed him completely.

Still, despite all his bloody, hateful tendencies, my father did everything he could to keep me out of it. I wasn’t stupid. It didn’t take long before I stumbled across documents and started questioning all of his disappearances. I was my father’s daughter, after all. Stubborn and curious. Curious enough to figure out that he was planning to take his revenge on Homelander for real.

Curious enough to deserve the truth.

That’s how I eventually found out my mother wasn’t dead, that I had a little brother, and that he was Homelander’s son too. Ironic situation, isn’t it?

Though I suppose the most ironic part was my mother’s death after spending eight miserable years trying to find her.

I think my father and I were simply forbidden from ever tasting happiness.

The Butcher curse.

Whatever.

My mother was dead. The mystery had been solved. But my father’s hatred didn’t fade. If anything, it only became worse. He was seized by something even darker. Even more ambitious.

Something that took him to Russia.

An ambition that brought Soldier Boy back.

That’s when it really started.

My father hadn’t let me come with them, but when he came back with America’s former golden boy, everything changed.

Changed too much.

Changed in the most dangerous way imaginable.

I’d heard about Soldier Boy before, just like I’d heard about plenty of Supes. At first, I saw him the same way I saw all the others. There wasn’t anything different about him. If anything, he was probably worse. Old-fashioned.

Pretty damn sexist.

With more than a few racist tendencies.

Terrified of the newer generation.

I should’ve hated him. When my father told me he’d come back with Soldier Boy, I’d already decided that I would. It was the logical thing to do. The right thing to do. It was exactly what I should have done.

But that wasn’t what happened at all.

He arrived.

I’d convinced myself he wasn’t my ally, just a weapon meant to kill Homelander, put an end to all of this revenge, and give me my father and my little brother back.

What I hadn’t expected was that he wasn’t just a weapon. He was a man. A Supe, sure, but still human underneath it all. A side of him I ended up seeing because I was constantly stuck babysitting him, making sure he didn’t decide to disappear. I had to keep him busy so he wouldn’t get any ideas about leaving us, and eventually, instead of simply keeping him occupied, I got to know him.

The babysitting… well, grandpa-sitting… became a lot more enjoyable than I’d ever expected. Who would’ve thought I’d grow attached to him? Certainly not me. And yet I’d laugh with him as though we were friends. Sometimes, it almost felt like we actually were.

Almost.

Because the feeling his laughter stirred low in my stomach wasn’t something a friend was supposed to make you feel.

Accepting that Soldier Boy was more than just another corrupt superhero and a weapon… I could do that.

Accepting that I had feelings for Ben?

That was completely ridiculous.

Because he was a Supe, but also because he was older than my own father, and most importantly because he probably saw me as William Butcher’s annoying little girl. Which, honestly, I couldn’t even blame him for. He probably never thought about our interactions the way I did. He had bigger things to worry about. The thought had probably never even crossed his mind. You’d have to be twisted for it to.

I was twisted.

Irrevocably twisted.

I almost felt like I understood him. I almost felt like we had our own silent understanding. I almost felt like he actually liked talking to me. I kept replaying the way he’d glance at me during briefings with The Boys. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way it had felt when he’d grabbed me to keep me from taking a bullet.

Those were ordinary things.

But inside my head, they became signs that I was completely screwed.

Then my father betrayed him.

The plan had been simple. Ben was invincible. Ben was probably the most powerful Supe the country had ever known. All he had to do was kill Homelander. That was the deal. That was the plan.

Except Ben turned on Ryan. My father completely lost it, and everything fell apart.

I remembered the look in his eyes too.

He looked at me like he was lost. Like he wanted to see if we were really turning against him. Like he was searching for even the smallest trace of betrayal on my face that would confirm we’d played him.

I never had the chance to do anything.

What could I have done anyway?

It didn’t matter.

Maeve carried him out of the building. And then… that was it. It was over. He was gone as quickly as he’d appeared.

Dead.

He was dead.

I never allowed myself to mourn him in front of my father or anyone else.

Mourn who?

What?

My fundamentally twisted little love story?

The superhero who had tried to kill my little brother?

I talked myself out of it. In the end, he was a weapon. I’d let myself believe otherwise because I’d gotten distracted, but he was still a Supe conditioned to fight. He probably didn’t think much beyond that. He attacked what he was supposed to attack. I wasn’t about to mourn a dead man who probably hadn’t thought much of me while he was alive, just like he probably hadn’t thought much of anyone.

Besides, we’d betrayed him.

We killed him.

It was what had to be done. That was how it was supposed to end.

So why did my chest tighten every time someone mentioned his death?

I felt guilty. I couldn’t see him the way everyone else did. I couldn’t erase the version of him I’d come to know during all those hours we spent alone together. I remembered the detached way he’d talk about why he’d become a superhero, just as vividly as I remembered the pain in his voice whenever Russia came up. I could still hear the exact way he’d say, “Is that how you kids think these days, Doll?” Always with that deep voice soaked in sarcasm. I could almost hear him. I was haunted by his voice.

It was pathetic.

But the most pathetic part was my reaction when I heard the words through my earpiece.

“It’s Soldier Boy.”

Silence.

A very long silence.

“…Excuse me?”

My father paused after hearing my answer before repeating himself.

“Soldier Boy’s here. He’s alive. And he’s standing right in front of us.”

He was alive.

He was alive.

He was alive.

I’d spent two years trying to forget a dead man only to find out he’d been alive all along.

And the worst part?

Instead of feeling the same fear everyone else did, instead of being terrified to face him again after we’d so obviously betrayed him, I felt hope. I felt that exact same sensation low in my stomach, as though it had awakened the moment I heard he was alive. It had died with him, and learning that he hadn’t died had brought it back to life. Because it had always belonged to him.

I remembered how it had all started.

It had started with Soldier Boy.

With Ben.

It always starts with Ben.

————————————

“How the hell is that bastard still not dead? He’s a fucking leech.”

I stared at the screen where Ben—Soldier Boy—stood proudly, almost defiantly, as though death itself had looked him in the face and simply refused to take him. He looked exactly the same. The same broad shoulders. The same confidence. The same infuriating calm that made it seem as though nothing in this world could truly hurt him. Yesterday, he’d been exposed to the anti-Supe virus. I’d watched the virus consume him right in front of my eyes. I’d watched every muscle in his body tighten as pain spread through him, watched him bend under an agony I’d never imagined someone like him could feel, and once again his irises had found mine. I hadn’t seen him in two years, and the only time I’d properly looked him in the eyes since his so-called death was, once again, right before he was supposed to die. Hope had almost disappeared as quickly as it’d returned. It had barely had time to bloom before someone tried to crush it all over again. He had to have seen it. He could see me through that damn reinforced door. Even with soldiers shouting around him and alarms blaring, there was no mistaking the way our eyes had met. And while the virus slowly killed him, I’d let a single silent tear slip down my cheek. Just one. One pathetic, traitorous tear that escaped before I could stop it. A tear he’d noticed because he’d paused. His brows had drawn together ever so slightly in a way I couldn’t understand. Maybe he was simply in pain and it had nothing to do with me. Maybe I was imagining things because I’d spent two years haunted by the memory of him. Or maybe… maybe he remembered. I hoped he remembered that I’d liked him, that during those weeks I’d seen more than Soldier Boy. I hoped he remembered that, for at least one person, he hadn’t simply been a weapon. I hoped that wasn’t such a terrible thing.

I hoped he knew I’d never wanted this. More than anything, I wished he understood that I hadn’t known about my father’s plan. I’d simply turned my head for a second before Hughie quietly told me that the guinea pig for our damn virus was going to be him. I’d only just found out he was alive, and I already had to accept that he was about to die all over again. It felt cruel. Like fate had decided I wasn’t even allowed to enjoy the miracle of finding out he was alive before threatening to take him away again. I wanted him to know I wasn’t part of it. Not the first time. Not the second. Even if I’d been standing there both times, it wasn’t what I wanted. It never had been.

Then again, it didn’t matter. His eyes drifted away from me and settled on Frenchie, standing beside me, and my tear had already dried. Whatever I thought had happened between us lasted only a heartbeat before reality came rushing back.

Then I’d thought I’d watched him die a second time.

But the virus hadn’t worked on him.

I should’ve been disgusted. If it didn’t work on Soldier Boy, then it probably wouldn’t work on Homelander either, and that was very, very bad news. It meant everything we’d risked, everything Frenchie had sacrificed to create that damned virus, might’ve been for nothing. It meant Homelander could still be untouchable. It meant we’d all be right back where we’d started. But instead, I felt the exact opposite. Knowing he’d survived spread a warmth through my entire body that had absolutely nothing to do with fear. It settled somewhere beneath my ribs before spreading through my chest, easing a weight I hadn’t even realized I’d been carrying for two years. I hated myself for it. I hated how natural it felt.

It was stupid.

I should’ve been terrified.

It was Soldier Boy. My father had betrayed him. He’d sided with Homelander. As far as Ben was concerned, we’d all stabbed him in the back. He probably spent every waking second waiting for the opportunity to make us pay for it. Waiting to settle the score with The Boys once and for all. If there was one thing I’d learned about men like him, it was that they never forgot betrayal. They carried it with them until they had the chance to return it tenfold.

But somehow…

None of that mattered to me.

He was alive.

That single fact drowned out every rational thought I should’ve had. It swallowed every warning screaming at the back of my mind. It was comforting in a way I couldn’t explain, like a part of me that had been grieving without permission had suddenly been given permission to breathe again. It felt like a silent victory, one I forced myself not to celebrate after hearing the disappointment dripping from my father’s voice and seeing the grim expressions on everyone else’s faces. MM looked furious. Frenchie looked exhausted. Kimiko remained unreadable. Hughie looked like someone had just told him the world was ending. They all hated him. Every single one of them. So I buried every ounce of relief threatening to show itself on my face. I swallowed it down before anyone could notice. I refused to let a smile betray me.

Still…

My father caught something.

He shot me a puzzled glance that lingered just a little too long.

“So what? You missed Soldier Boy or something?”

I lowered my eyes, pretending his question didn’t bother me nearly as much as it did. I ignored the remark completely, hoping the silence would kill the conversation before it had the chance to grow teeth. Then I stood up and walked away from everyone else. Suddenly the room felt too small. Too hot. Too crowded. His question wrapped itself around my throat like a noose. I couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone could see straight through me. That if I stayed another minute, they’d read every stupid thought I’d spent the last two years trying to bury. I needed air. I needed distance. I needed to get away before my face betrayed me.

“That’s what I thought.”

I stopped.

Slowly, I turned back toward him.

My eyes met my father’s, colder than I intended, silently waiting for him to finish what he’d started.

“My girl fell for big bad Soldier Boy.”

For a split second my heart stopped.

I forced myself to look offended.

Confused.

Almost insulted by the accusation.

As though the very idea sounded ridiculous.

But it wasn’t ridiculous.

It was true.

“I didn’t fall for Soldier Boy.”

The lie tasted bitter the second it left my mouth.

I wasn’t even convinced by my own answer.

Still, I kept my expression perfectly neutral. I refused to let him see the panic clawing at the inside of my chest. I refused to let anyone else see it either.

I could already feel MM staring at me.

I didn’t even have to look.

His gaze burned against my skin anyway.

That was exactly why all of this was so completely insane. Ben wasn’t a good man. He’d hurt people. Killed people. Destroyed families without giving them a second thought. He wasn’t the kind of man you were supposed to fall in love with. He wasn’t supposed to be anybody’s happy ending. Least of all mine. None of this made sense. None of it fit with the person I wanted to believe I was.

And yet…

Part of me wanted to defend him.

To tell them they hadn’t seen the same man I had.

To tell them there had been moments when he’d looked tired instead of dangerous.

Moments when he’d laughed.

Moments when he’d looked… human.

But I said nothing.

Because defending him would’ve confirmed everything my father was accusing me of.

And that was the last thing I wanted. “Yeah, right.”

He wasn’t convinced. Not even a little.

“You think I didn’t see the way you looked at him? Like he wasn’t a complete fucking idiot?”

Every word that came out of his mouth made me feel smaller. More ridiculous. Coming from my father, it sounded so painfully obvious that I wondered if everyone else had noticed it too. Had they all watched me make a fool of myself while I thought I was hiding it so well? Had they all seen the way my eyes lingered on Ben whenever he walked into a room? The way I’d unconsciously looked for him before anyone else?

I felt like a child who’d been caught red-handed.

“He’s an asshole.”

I hated the way he looked at me.

Like I was naive.

Like I’d invented a version of Soldier Boy that had never existed.

Like I was too stupid to understand who he really was.

“So are you. Doesn’t mean you deserve to die.”

The words left my mouth before I had time to stop them.

Silence.

I watched his expression harden almost instantly.

His eyes sharpened into something cold enough to cut through steel. If he’d been able to kill me with a look alone, I probably would’ve dropped dead where I stood. Heat rushed into my cheeks, not because I regretted saying it, but because I knew exactly how far I’d just pushed him.

He took one slow step toward me.

Then another.

Until he was standing close enough that I almost had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

He looked down at me with something dangerously close to disgust.

“What d’you think, eh? That your innocent little act’s gonna soften him up? That somehow you’re different?” He let out a dry, humorless laugh. “He doesn’t give a flying fuck about you. Hell, I’m not even sure he remembers your bloody name.”

The words hit harder than I wanted to admit.

Because they sounded true.

Painfully true.

He was right.

Cruel.

Unnecessarily cruel.

But right.

What reason would Ben have to remember me?

We’d spent a few weeks together.

A few conversations.

A few laughs that probably meant far more to me than they ever had to him.

Then we’d betrayed him.

I’d betrayed him, too, whether I’d wanted to or not. Why would he remember William Butcher’s daughter? Why would he waste even a second thinking about me after everything that had happened?

My chest tightened.

For one brief moment, I wanted to believe my father was wrong.

I wanted to believe Ben had paused because he’d recognized me.

Because that tear had meant something.

Because I’d meant something. But wishing didn’t make it true. I was hurt. Deeply. The kind of hurt that settled quietly inside you instead of exploding all at once.

Still…

I’d never been the type to let anyone see it.

Especially not my father.

Especially not now.

So I smiled.

A wide smile.

Fake enough that even I almost believed it.

Then I looked him straight in the eye.

“I don’t give a shit about Soldier Boy. He’s an asshole. Let him die.”

The lie felt rotten.

It scraped against my throat on the way out. Every single word tasted worse than the last.

I was lying.

I knew it.

My father knew it.

Hell, judging by the way MM glanced between us, maybe everyone else knew it too.

The crooked smirk creeping onto my father’s face said more than words ever could. There wasn’t an ounce of belief behind his eyes. If anything, he looked entertained. Watching me struggle to keep my composure amused him. Watching me desperately cling to a lie so transparent it was almost embarrassing amused him even more.

He looked like he’d already won.

Like he’d figured me out long before I’d figured myself out.

I didn’t give him the satisfaction of saying anything else.

Before another sharp remark could leave his mouth, I turned around and walked away as fast as I could without making it look like I was running. Every step put a little more distance between us, but none between me and the thoughts clawing at my head. My own words echoed over and over until they made me feel sick.

Let him die.

I didn’t mean them.

Not a single one.

The thought of saying them aloud made my stomach twist.

It felt like I’d betrayed him all over again.

But my father was right.

He probably didn’t even remember my name.

And he almost certainly didn’t spare me the same foolish, impossible attention I’d spent two years giving him.

—————————

We were drowning in adrenaline. The pressure had every one of us wound tight, our nerves stretched to the breaking point. Truth be told, I’d already been tense before we even got here, and the same went for my dad. The little argument we’d had earlier still lingered in the air between us. I ignored him. He shot daggers at me every chance he got.

We weren’t the only ones on edge.

Hughie and Annie were arguing over who should head upstairs first. Frenchie’s leg was bouncing frantically. Kimiko was chewing at her nails. Then there was MM, who looked fairly composed, probably because he was better at hiding it than the rest of us.

After all, I found the situation stressful too. None of this had been part of the plan. We were supposed to make our way into an abandoned building because Frenchie wanted to retrieve… I didn’t even know what. Something that would help improve the virus and make sure it could kill Homelander. That was our one and only objective. Exterminate Homelander.

Except somehow, I had no idea how, someone must’ve tipped him off about our rendezvous point because The Deep and Black Noir were here too.

Only my dad and I were left in the main room.

“Go hide over there.”

I shook my head sharply. I hated being treated like some helpless little kid who couldn’t handle or face anything. Especially right now. We’d just had a fight, and I could feel the way he was looking at me. He thought I was childish. Stupid. He was telling me to hide because he wanted to protect me, but all I could feel was that he was treating me like a child.

I hated feeling infantilized.

“No. I’m staying with you.”

My answer earned me a dark glare. Instead of making me want to listen and hide, it only made me want to piss him off even more. I think what he’d said to me earlier made me want to push him over the edge. I loved pushing my dad’s buttons, but after what he’d told me earlier… it felt necessary. I wanted to get under his skin.

It was probably reckless of me, considering who my father was.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

I shrugged.

“But I am.”

At first he wasn’t fully facing me, but this time he turned until he was standing right in front of me. His hands gripped my shoulders firmly, giving me a slight shake as though he were trying to wake me up.

Or knock some sense into me.

“What’s your plan, kiddo? Get yourself killed?”

There was a genuine question in his eyes as they locked onto mine.

“Running around with guys like Soldier Boy and—”

He paused.

“And guys like you?”

He stared at me for a second before giving a slow nod. His fingers slid up to my cheek in an unusually gentle gesture. My dad was never affectionate.

Not even when I’d found out about his cancer. He’d just smiled at me and told me I’d make it through because I was just as strong as he was. That wasn’t true. I guess he liked telling himself that to justify all the shitty situations I’d been forced to survive.

“I never wanted to drag you into all this, you understand? I’m sorry, kiddo. You know I love you, right?”

I had nothing to say. I almost felt guilty for being angry at him earlier. Because for once, my dad had traded his usual sarcasm for a sincerity so unsettling it caught me completely off guard. A sincerity that made me nod.

He smiled before tilting his head to the side with a defeated look.

“So please… go hide.”

I didn’t argue this time. I slipped out of his grasp and hurried toward the spot he’d told me to go.

But I froze.

“Butcher. Miss me?”

His voice sounded different from the one I’d heard on TV. It made me recognize him even more.

And hearing it stirred something inside me. I hadn’t realized it when we’d trapped him with the virus because I hadn’t really seen him except through the window of that room where he’d been lying there, dying.

I realized just how much I’d missed that voice.

Missed it so much that I ignored my dad. I stayed hidden in the corner, watching the scene unfold. I could see him. His back was to me. Still wearing that dark green suit with his signature shield strapped to his arm. He walked with that almost arrogant stride. At the very least, he was confident. His voice certainly was.

My dad glanced in my direction, and I saw the disappointment in his eyes. A disappointment he quickly buried because Ben hadn’t noticed me. And we both knew Soldier Boy wasn’t on our side anymore. If he saw me, I probably wouldn’t make it out alive.

I wanted to believe otherwise.

But there was always that doubt.

“So tell me… you really that attached to living? You allergic to dying?”

My dad sounded confident too. Too confident. I didn’t like it. It felt misplaced. He was standing face-to-face with Soldier Boy. I didn’t doubt my dad, but Ben was terrifying. He could survive nuclear blasts. He was immortal.

He shouldn’t have sounded that confident.

“About as attached to life as you are to Homelander’s asshole. Fucking pathetic.”

My dad never lost that smile.

I was far too focused on Ben’s presence to really analyze his reaction.

Suddenly, a deafening crash echoed through the entire building above us. I tensed instantly. Slowly, I lifted my eyes toward the ceiling.

And I saw it.

The crack.

The first person I looked for was my dad. Panic twisted in my chest. He was already staring straight at me. He immediately started moving toward me, and that was enough to catch Ben’s attention. I watched him slowly turn in my direction, and the second our eyes met, my entire body felt unbearably heavy.

The ceiling was about to collapse on top of me, yet I was completely consumed by Soldier Boy and the way he was looking at me.

My eyes kept darting between my dad and Ben as the first chunks of the ceiling crashed onto the floor. I couldn’t move. I was surrounded by falling slabs of concrete. I wasn’t the only one.

The three of us were trapped.

I didn’t even have time to understand what was happening before the ceiling finally gave way.

The only thing I managed to see was my dad disappearing beneath the rubble.

Then everything went black.

—————————

The smell of cigarette smoke pulled me out of my sleep. I was used to the smell of smoke. But I wasn’t used to being woken up by it. I didn’t smoke, and my dad never smoked in my room.

I shifted slightly, annoyed by the smell filling my nose, when it suddenly hit me.

I wasn’t in my bed. The sheets weren’t mine. I could tell by the way they felt against my skin, but also by the scent of the pillow my head was resting on.

I even surprised myself by recognizing the smell.

Ben.

I lifted my head too quickly, opening my eyes, only to immediately regret moving so fast. I squeezed my eyes shut again as pain shot through my head from the sudden movement. There was a constant ringing buzzing inside my skull.

“You should take it easy.”

I opened my eyes again the second his voice echoed through the room. This time, actually able to look around me, I realized I wasn’t in my bedroom.

The room was huge. Almost luxurious. I was lying in a king-size bed covered in dark green sheets. That color dominated the room, highlighted by shades of brown and white. As I looked around at the walls, I noticed paintings, magazine covers and framed articles. There were medals too, and all kinds of awards I couldn’t even recognize. Then my eyes lingered on the doorway.

Well… not really on the doorway.

On the man standing in it.

He was leaning almost carelessly against the frame, staring down at me. I watched him raise two fingers to his lips to pull the cigarette resting there away.

He was the one who’d woken me up.

And judging by the room I was in…

I was definitely at his place.

Still, for a situation that normally would’ve filled my stomach with that strange fluttering feeling…

I found myself reacting in the only reasonable way.

I was scared.

Scared of why I was here, but more than anything, scared of what exactly he planned to do with me.

“Why am I here?”

I wanted to sound intimidating, completely disconnected from the fear twisting my stomach into knots. But my voice stayed weak.

Hesitant.

He pushed himself away from the doorway and walked over to a small table tucked away in the corner of the room. An ashtray sat there. He crushed his cigarette inside it before turning back toward me.

“The ceiling collapsed.”

He said it as though that explained everything.

It didn’t explain anything. I already knew that.

“Why am I here?”

He almost hesitated before answering. Like the words cost him something.

“I brought you here.”

I repeated that sentence over and over in my head before I could even try to understand any of it.

I frowned.

“Why did you do that?”

He folded his arms across his chest, trying to look stern, but I couldn’t stop myself from hoping I was talking to Ben. The one I’d spent hours with two years ago while we waited around for my dad’s orders.

“‘Cause I wasn’t about to let you die.”

The answer sounded painfully obvious coming from him.

It wasn’t obvious to me.

“Why?”

My question earned me a surprised laugh.

“Why?”

I felt like a stupid little kid all over again.

“You should’ve let me die.”

That would’ve made sense. If he hadn’t been standing right in front of me, I almost would’ve believed he’d been the one responsible for the ceiling collapsing.

Instead, he stared at me with a hard expression rather than an understanding one.

“I did what I had to do.”

That pulled a sarcastic laugh out of me.

“What you had to do was let the daughter of the guy who betrayed you and tried to kill you die.”

I watched his jaw tighten.

He didn’t look like he was about to say anything.

So I changed the subject, promising myself I’d come back to it another time.

“How’s my dad?”

He shrugged.

I didn’t think he was going to answer.

But what he said made my fingers tighten around the sheets.

“I don’t give a damn about your father, so I didn’t bother finding out whether he was dead or not.”

That didn’t reassure me much.

He noticed.

“I’d assume he isn’t.”

He was trying to be comforting.

At least…

I think he was.

I didn’t even know what I was supposed to think anymore. How was I supposed to think straight when I was sitting in front of the man I’d believed dead for two years…

Especially in his bed?

He’d just admitted he hadn’t cared enough to find out if my father had survived because he didn’t give a damn.

But he’d pulled me out.

Did that mean…

He didn’t not care?

“Thank you.”

He hadn’t been expecting that.

He straightened up, looking at me with obvious confusion.

As if people didn’t thank him very often.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

Easy for him to say.

A lot harder for me.

The more I realized where I was, the more my mind spiraled.

Because it was Ben.

Ben was what made my head spin.

The thought that he’d brought me here after the ceiling had collapsed made my thoughts impossible to sort through.

He should’ve hated me.

I should’ve reminded him of my father.

He should’ve watched me disappear beneath the rubble.

But he didn’t.

And I desperately wanted to know why.

That wasn’t like him.

He wasn’t the kind of man who saved someone connected to the person who’d betrayed him.

He turned to leave, but just as he reached the doorway, he slowed down.

“You should take a shower. The bathroom’s on your right, and the towels are in the cabinet under the sink. I’ll see if I can find you something to wear.”

I listened carefully.

I’d always been convinced he was kinder, softer even, than most people ever gave him credit for.

Still…

I couldn’t help being surprised by the way he was treating me.

I clearly didn’t deserve all this effort.

Least of all from him.

He finally left the room, and only then did I realize I was breathing again.

Ever since he’d walked in, I’d forgotten how.

He stole the air from my lungs.

Just as my heart finally settled back into a normal rhythm.

I slowly pushed myself to my feet.

I grimaced the second I put weight on my leg. My whole body was still numb, and everything hurt.

It hurt enough that I ended up sitting back down on the bed, wondering whether I’d even make it all the way to the bathroom.

But I was thinking beyond a shower too.

How was I supposed to get back home?

If my dad was still in one piece, he was probably losing his fucking mind by now.

There wasn’t a phone on the bedside table.

And honestly, even if I explained the situation to him, I doubted it’d reassure him.

Quite the opposite.

The idea that I was with Soldier Boy definitely wasn’t going to make my father feel any better.

Especially if he knew I was in his apartment, probably somewhere not too far from Vought and everything else.

He couldn’t find out.

Especially not after our last conversation.

I tried standing again when Ben walked back into the room carrying a pile of clothes in his arms.

I held my breath all over again.

He watched me for a second.

He set the clothes down on the table beside the ashtray before walking over to help me back onto my feet.

He did it silently.

I immediately protested.

“I can walk. I just need a little—”

“Sorry, but you don’t even look like you can lift your arm properly, doll.”

I shivered at the nickname and let myself lean against him so I could move forward.

He guided me slowly toward the bathroom.

Truth be told, I wasn’t exactly capable of moving fast.

The fact that I could even put one foot in front of the other was already impressive enough.

“I asked Firecracker for some clothes, but they’re not exactly…”

He paused, clearly searching for the right word.

“…covering.”

A small laugh escaped me.

“That’s okay. Thank you.”

It wasn’t until several seconds after I’d answered that he finally let go of me.

It almost seemed like he didn’t trust himself to leave me on my own anymore.

I hated when people helped me.

I hated being treated like I couldn’t do anything by myself.

But this was different.

I liked the attention. I liked the way he took care of me. I liked the way he looked at me. It almost felt like he actually cared. It was comforting.

“You sure you can…”

He stared at the shower as though it were some mountain I had to climb.

I caught myself smiling at his expression.

“Yeah. Don’t worry. Worst case, I’ll scream and you’ll come help me.”

A quiet laugh escaped him, but he still looked unconvinced.

I could see it in the way he carried himself. His eyes lingered on me just a little too long. It made swallowing suddenly feel much harder than it should have. He noticed. He paused. Then, finally, he left me alone in the bathroom.

I almost regretted that he hadn’t stayed.

That was my whole problem.

—————————

The water had washed every trace of dirt from my body. I watched the dust and dried blood rinse away, followed by the gray powder from the collapsed ceiling that had settled into my hair. It felt good to have the hot water against my skin. It was comforting. Just like the scent of my skin after using Ben’s shower products. I smelled like him. That was just as comforting as the warmth of the shower itself.

I hated myself for feeling relieved when I couldn’t find any women’s body wash. It was a man’s bathroom. When I stepped out, I only saw one toothbrush, just like there was only one bottle of men’s cologne. Besides that, the room was far too empty for a woman to live here. It was just as luxurious as the bedroom, but everything was clean and minimalist.

I shouldn’t have been so happy that he lived here alone.

And yet…

I was.

I think the simple thought of him being with someone else made my throat tighten.

I stepped out of the bathroom to grab the clothes he’d brought me. I pulled them on while silently cursing Firecracker more than once. I was almost embarrassed to put on the panties she’d lent me. They were so tiny they barely felt like I was wearing anything at all. Then realizing that Ben knew exactly what I had on made heat rush straight to my cheeks.

Whatever.

Thankfully, she’d at least given me a pair of short jogging shorts. I wasn’t exactly covered, but I was comfortable enough. Well… comfortable, but ridiculous. If my dad ever saw me wearing a T-shirt that said “Go Firecracker!” he’d openly make fun of me. Honestly, I wouldn’t even be able to blame him.

I almost hesitated before leaving the bedroom.

I was scared he’d be gone.

I was just as scared he’d stayed.

I was simply scared.

But it was an oddly pleasant kind of fear.

Because he was the reason for it.

I finally forced myself to step through the doorway and take a better look around the apartment.

I found myself standing in the living room. It was huge, decorated in the same colors as his bedroom. Everywhere I looked there were more objects with his face on them and posters from his movies. The entire room revolved around his image, yet somehow it still felt empty. Impersonal. Maybe it was bold of me to think that, but I had the strange feeling none of it really belonged to him. I would’ve bet Homelander had decorated the place for him. The only thing I genuinely liked was the enormous floor-to-ceiling window covering nearly the entire wall. You could see the city stretching endlessly below, every light reflecting against the darkness. Especially now that it was late. Night had already fallen.

It was even more beautiful.

He was there too, standing in front of the window, watching the view. I walked toward him slowly, almost like I was afraid I’d startle him. Then again, I wasn’t exactly capable of moving quickly.

He didn’t turn toward me. I stopped beside him and looked out over the city.

It was hypnotizing.

“So… you didn’t drown.”

His comment pulled a smile from me.

“No. But I came close a couple of times.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the faint smile tugging at his lips, and I liked the feeling it gave me far more than I should have. It was rare for a simple smile to affect me that much.

“What time is it?”

I guessed it had to be sometime after ten, but it was hard to tell.

He finally tore his eyes away from the skyline and looked at me.

“Around midnight. You should get some sleep. I’ll take you back to your father tomorrow.”

There was a bitterness in his voice the moment he mentioned my dad. I didn’t want to assume too much, but I would’ve bet he still held a grudge against him.

Honestly…

I thought it was justified.

“Are you planning on killing him?”

I could’ve asked a thousand different questions. I could’ve asked for a phone to let my dad know I was alive, or any number of other things.

Instead…

That was the one that came out.

I guess I had so many questions running through my mind that I didn’t really think about the first one I asked.

His entire body stiffened.

His gaze drifted away.

“No. Not this time, anyway.”

He sounded sincere.

That answer was enough for me.

I didn’t blame him for hating my father. I definitely didn’t want him to kill him, but the way he answered made it sound like he still hadn’t fully decided what he wanted.

For now…

That was enough.

“I never agreed with what he did.”

His jaw tightened.

I didn’t need to explain what I meant.

He understood immediately.

I couldn’t tell whether he was touched or irritated.

Either way…

He definitely wasn’t indifferent.

“I know.”

I raised an eyebrow.

He noticed, and I felt him gathering his thoughts before speaking again. He almost looked hesitant to say it.

“At first I thought you were part of the plan. But when I saw you during the virus thing… I understood.”

I knew he was talking about the tear I’d let fall.

I hadn’t been sure he’d noticed it.

Knowing that he had strangely reassured me.

“You were always my favorite out of that whole bunch of assholes anyway.”

The comment made me laugh quietly, but it affected me far more than it should have.

I liked hearing that.

I’d never imagined those words coming out of his mouth.

He’d never seemed like the type to express anything. He always looked lonely. Hard. Cold. Sure, I knew now those walls were there to protect himself, but that was still the image he gave off.

He was different. Softer. He didn’t look like a soldier anymore. He looked like a man. “Is that why you saved me?”

I didn’t really understand why he liked me, but I understood that it was why he hadn’t let me die. That was what I wanted to know.

He nodded.

“I told you not to let it go to your head, doll.”

I looked back at him. His eyes were fixed on the buildings, the city lights reflecting in them in a way that looked almost unreal. He was so beautiful it almost felt inappropriate to stare.

“You’ve changed.”

I tilted my head, confused.

“You can tell you’ve grown up.”

“I don’t look like a kid anymore?”

I said it jokingly, but there was truth behind the question. It was almost as if I was trying to find out whether he still saw me as a child.

Did he still see me as Butcher’s little girl?

“You never looked like a kid.”

My heart skipped a beat at the low, gravelly tone of his voice.

“You just seem wiser now.”

He paused.

“Still naïve, though.”

I stiffened at the word.

“You think I’m naïve?”

He looked at me and nodded.

“I am not.”

The sulky tone of my reply earned a rough laugh from him, one that forced me to take a slow breath just to steady myself again.

I hated the effect he had on me.

He really made me feel naïve.

“You are.”

I frowned.

“Why?”

He let out a deep breath before lowering his eyes to the floor, thoughtful. Then he looked back at me. My legs suddenly felt even less steady. Not because of the pain. Not because of the collapse.

“Because you look at me like I’m not a weapon.”

His answer caught me completely off guard.

He was right.

I just hadn’t thought he’d noticed.

“You’re not.”

He gave me a smile that looked almost sad.

“Then you really are naïve.”

I opened my mouth before replying, slightly offended.

“I’m not.”

He laughed again, and it irritated me that every single time it affected me the exact same way.

Pathetic.

“You’re stubborn.”

I pretended to think about it before nodding.

“That part’s true.”

He pressed his lips together, amused.

Maybe I’d changed.

But he hadn’t.

Even if I wasn’t used to seeing him this gentle, I could still tell he was the same man.

For a second I was back two years earlier, laughing with him on my dad’s old couch while I tried teaching him how to use my phone.

I realized I’d missed that more than I’d ever admitted to myself.

“I’m glad you didn’t die.”

I didn’t think I’d ever sounded so sincere.

It was something I’d thought countless times but had never dared say out loud.

Because if I’d said it to the rest of the group…

They probably wouldn’t have taken it very well.

His expression softened.

Then turned sad.

“That’s exactly the problem.”

His answer surprised me.

He let out a slow breath as though I was doing something obvious…

And disappointing.

Yet somehow, I knew he wasn’t disappointed in me.

“You shouldn’t be glad.”

I didn’t really understand why he was reacting like that.

“But I am.”

“You shouldn’t even care.”

There was frustration in his voice now.

“But I do.”

It wasn’t until the words left my mouth that I realized how close we’d gotten.

Closer than before.

Our voices had risen, and without realizing it I’d stepped toward him.

Close enough to feel his warm breath against my skin.

Close enough for his scent to fill my lungs.

Close enough that I had to tilt my head back just to look him in the eyes.

“You shouldn’t.”

His pupils burned as they held mine.

He looked at me in a way that suddenly made me aware of parts of my own body I’d been trying to ignore.

My heart was beating too fast.

Far too fast.

“Why?”

“Because it’s wrong.”

The certainty in his voice was absolute.

I couldn’t tell whether he meant that not wanting him dead was wrong. Or whether it ran much deeper than that.

I wondered if he’d realized just how much he mattered to me.

And if that was what he thought was wrong. My eyes drifted down to his lips with an intensity I couldn’t hide. I knew he saw it. I knew this wasn’t the time. I still couldn’t stop myself.

“I don’t give a damn if it’s wrong.”

I lifted my eyes back to his.

His expression was impossible to read. The way he looked at me should’ve made me feel embarrassed. Maybe it would have if I hadn’t already been so hopelessly turned on.

“You can’t look at me like that, doll.” Doll. That nickname only tightened the knot low in my stomach.

“How am I looking at you?” I almost whispered it. That wasn’t like me. I was very obviously trying to tempt him. Normally I was the type to hide what I felt.

To stay quiet.

But I couldn’t anymore. Because he’d saved me. Because he cared about me. Because I was starting to think He wanted this too. “You can’t look at me like you want me to take your clothes off.”

Hearing him say it out loud in such a calm voice drove me even crazier than before. His voice drove me crazy. So crazy that I found myself wondering what other sounds he could make.

“I want you to take my clothes off.”

His jaw tightened. I couldn’t even believe I’d just said that. I was completely running on impulse now.

It looked like he had to force himself to answer.

“It’s wrong. I’m older. I’m a Supe. Your father hates me.”

Every reason he gave only made me want him more. He thought he was talking me down, but it only made everything worse. I stepped even closer, resting my hand against his chest. My fingertips slowly traced the emblem on his suit, and I watched him tense beneath my touch.

“You’re hurt.”

I shook my head.

“I’m okay.”

He let out a slow breath.

“This is torture. You can’t do this to me.”

I lifted my eyes to meet his.

“Do you want me?”

A laugh, almost desperate, escaped him.

“Is that a trap?”

“Do you?”

This time I was serious. He looked at me as though the answer was obvious.

“Obviously, doll.”

The word shot through me like electricity.

My hand slid up to his jaw, my fingers slowly brushing through his beard as though it were the most natural thing in the world. I’d always wanted to do that.

“Then please, Ben. Waiting this long was hard enough already.”

I’d barely finished speaking before his hands grabbed my waist and his mouth crashed against mine. It was even better than I’d imagined. I’d dreamed about it.

It was better than my dreams.

Because this was real.

His hands slipped beneath my thighs as he lifted me effortlessly off the ground. He kissed me like he’d wanted this for years. There was hunger in it, impatience, desperation…

But tenderness too.

I could’ve gotten lost in that kiss alone.

But I wanted more.

He started walking. I had no idea where he was taking me. My eyes stayed closed, and I couldn’t bring myself to do anything else.

I only opened them again when my back met the mattress.

He’d carried me all the way to the bed.

Adrenaline surged through my veins, and I could already feel how soaked my panties were.

I was almost embarrassed by it.

He was still standing, and for a second I wondered if he was hesitating.

Then I realized he was simply taking off his suit.

I didn’t take my eyes off him for a single second.

I followed his hands as they slowly undid the top of his uniform. Then I watched the fabric slide down, revealing his chest. There were scars. Somehow, they only made me want him even more. He was built so perfectly it was almost unfair. Broad shoulders, sculpted muscles, veins standing out along his arms.

I felt weak.

“You like what you see, doll?” I nodded silently, almost dreading the moment he’d take off his pants.

He did it much faster than I’d expected. He stood there in nothing but his boxer briefs, and I could already see he was hard.

Fuck. This was completely insane. He finally climbed onto the bed, and beneath him I felt like I’d disappeared completely. The warmth radiating from his body made it impossible to think straight. His hips rolled forward ever so slightly, making me swallow hard. His forearms came to rest on either side of my head. He looked down at me with unmistakable desire, his gaze drinking me in.

He leaned close to my ear, his warm breath ghosting over my skin as he spoke.

“You sure you want me to take your clothes off, sweetheart?”

I nodded so quickly it was almost pathetic. It was all I wanted. All I could think about. Him. I felt him smile against my neck before his lips found the sensitive skin there, pressing slow kisses along it. The warmth and softness of his mouth felt so good it was almost cruel.

“I keep wondering what you look like underneath those little clothes. Knowing you were wearing that… that’s been torture, doll.”

A quiet moan slipped from my throat, and a low growl answered it. I barely caught the almost inaudible, “Fuck.”

His hands settled on my hips before slowly sliding upward, taking the T-shirt with them. His palms were warm, his hands rough. The feeling was completely new, yet I’d imagined it so many times that it almost felt familiar.

“Your skin’s so soft, baby…”

Every time he spoke it only made everything worse. My hands had already found the back of his neck, while my legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. It was difficult to hold them there.

I was shaking.

He was the reason I was shaking.

He pulled the shirt over my head with practiced ease before looking down at me like a predator studying its prey. Something flickered in his eyes. It almost looked like hesitation.

“You’re too damn soft for me, doll. You can’t really want this.”

I shook my head.

“I do. I want you.”

There wasn’t a trace of hesitation left in me. The two years I’d spent believing he was dead had left me with nothing but regret. I’d promised myself I’d never let another chance pass me by.

Never another chance with him.

So I was certain.

“Touch me, Ben.”

He leaned down a little closer. “You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” The more he spoke, the more I became exactly that. He started kissing my neck, then my collarbones, then lower still, between my breasts, just beneath them, then above my navel… and lower.

The sensation was almost suffocating.

I let my head fall back and closed my eyes as his fingers stopped at the waistband of my shorts. He toyed with the elastic in a way that was so tempting I felt like I could come from that alone. Then he slowly slid them down, leaving my panties exactly where they were. I could feel him looking. Just knowing he was made goosebumps spread over my skin.

His fingers came to rest against the fabric.

“I want you to look at me, doll. I want you looking me straight in the eyes while I eat you out.”

Fuck.

I opened my eyes, but holding his gaze was almost impossible. He was there between my thighs, his green eyes never leaving mine as his lips slowly brushed the inside of my thigh.

“You don’t have to feel like you need to—”

“Oh, doll… you’d be doing me a favor by letting me taste you like this.”

His answer stole every remaining word from me. His fingers carefully slipped my panties away, and for the first time in my life I felt completely indifferent about being naked in front of someone.

“Fuck… you’re so wet for me, baby…”

I was.

And it only got worse the moment his lips met my skin. He was finally where I’d wanted him most, and it felt like pure relief. He was good at it. He knew exactly what he was doing. He’d probably done this thousands of times, and I couldn’t decide whether I was jealous or grateful. I didn’t know if it felt this incredible because it was him or because he was just that skilled, but God… it felt so good. His tongue settled into an uneven rhythm. It was unbearable in the best possible way. I threw my head back, and then he pressed more firmly against my clit.

“I told you to look at me…” I forced myself to look back at him. It was impossible. Especially when he curled his fingers and moved even faster. His free hand slid up to my chest, teasing my nipple. I couldn’t hold on anymore. It was impossible. I could feel it building low in my stomach before it spread through my entire body. It felt like I was about to explode. Then, finally, my orgasm crashed over me in the most delicious way. He didn’t stop immediately. He kept kissing me gently, tenderly. It was perfect. I started wondering if I wasn’t imagining all of it.

He climbed back up and kissed me this time, right on the lips. It brought me back to reality, and I slowly regained some sense after my mind had been completely clouded by the orgasm from only a few seconds ago.

“You taste so sweet, doll.”

Fuck.

It just kept getting worse.

My breathing, which had only just calmed down, picked right back up.

I could feel his erection pressed against my thigh. I could feel his hands against my skin.

It was unbearable.

My fingers brushed over his cock. I watched him tense the exact second I touched it. A guttural sound escaped him, encouraging me to keep going. I could already tell it was long and thick. I’d thought it was impossible to want him any more than I already did.

I was wrong.

“You sure?”

My fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs, and I felt his breathing grow heavier. Seeing him like that reassured me. It made me feel like I wasn’t the only one turning completely pathetic at the other’s touch.

“I’m sure.”

He didn’t wait any longer. He pulled off his boxer briefs, gave himself a quick stroke before positioning himself exactly where I’d been waiting for him. I could finally see him, and for a second it almost discouraged me. It would’ve discouraged me if I hadn’t wanted him so badly to take me right then and there. He was big. I wasn’t even sure it would fit.

I didn’t say anything, but I felt him stop right at my entrance.

He leaned close to my ear, and the anticipation was almost painful. Wanting him this much actually hurt.

“Don’t worry, doll. It’s gonna fit. Take it easy.”

I felt him slowly ease inside me. It was gentle. Gentle enough that I could adjust. He took his time, making sure he didn’t hurt me, and somehow that was almost more overwhelming than the feeling of finally having him inside me. A soft moan escaped my lips.

“I’m gonna make you feel so damn good you won’t even remember your own name, sweetheart.”

His voice was breathless, low and rough. I had no idea how I was still holding together when just hearing it was enough to make me feel like I was falling apart.

When he finally reached the deepest part of me, my hands found his back as though I were holding on for dear life.

Maybe I was.

He started moving a little faster. His rhythm stayed uneven. Every thrust made me feel weaker. My legs shook, my hands clung to him helplessly, and I couldn’t even control the sounds spilling from my mouth anymore. I wasn’t controlling anything.

All I could feel was him losing control just as much. He grew faster, rougher, more desperate. He whispered praises about how well I took his cock and how unbelievably tight I was for him. Every time his voice reached my ears, every single time, I found myself closer to the edge. Especially because of the way he said it. His voice had become pleading. Desperate.

I was making him desperate.

That thought alone made my eyes roll back.

His hand found my clit, and within minutes I was milking his cock. He kept thrusting through my orgasm for a little while before finally following me over the edge. I heard him moan against my ear, and the weight of his body on top of mine completely shattered what little composure I had left.

I’d slept with Ben.

A week ago, I thought he was dead. Two days ago, I thought we’d killed him all over again. And now I was in his bed. He was lying on top of me, breathing hard while his cum slowly leaked out of me.

He rolled onto his back beside me before pulling me against him, making me rest my head on his chest. He was still breathing heavily, and I could still feel him everywhere.

His fingers disappeared into my hair while mine gently traced one of the scars across his chest.

I could’ve stayed here forever.

“You sound even prettier than I imagined, doll.”

That pulled a smile from me. I was slowly coming back to my senses, and my cheeks immediately flushed the second I remembered everything we’d just done. If anyone ever brought up the way I’d been desperately begging him, I’d deny every second of it.

“I already knew you’d be that good.” His laugh filled my stomach with butterflies.

I didn’t have words to describe the overwhelming sense of peace washing over me.

“If you keep saying things like that, I’m gonna keep you here forever. You could be my own personal doll.”

The thought sent a shiver through me.

“I already am.”

He went completely still. Then he leaned down and kissed the top of my head.

“Then stay forever.”

I lifted my head to look at him. His eyes were already locked onto mine. He still wore that softened expression. It didn’t even feel real.

“I’ll stay if that’s what you want.”

I meant every word.

I’d spent two years trying to mourn him, only to arrive at one unavoidable conclusion.

I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.

If he wanted me to stay…

I’d stay.

I couldn’t get rid of these feelings anyway.

“I’ve never wanted anything more.”

My heart was pounding so hard I could barely hear anything else.

“Then I’m staying.”

“You’re staying.”

Damn…

It was twisted.

But whatever.

Time for another HC! This one comes as a Patreon request from @spnbabe67 ❤️

Request: Which one of the big 5 do you think would spoil you the most? And, what do you think each of their ways of spoiling/indulging in you would be?

᯽ With Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), Mark Meachum & Russell Shaw ᯽

Tags & Warnings: (18+) | Some smutty musings, mostly with SB of course lol

᯽ Mark Meachum

lol I hate to put Mark last, but he's not usually the guy remembering to get you flowers or gifts just because.

In fact, this guy regularly forgets your birthday is coming up, or even your anniversary.

Shit, he thinks, when your mom or one of your friends asks him what he's going to get you.

Moon kissed by the trees

bringing back this version of neighbour!beau , because we all missed him...

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: smut , neighbour!beau x fem.reader , dbf!beau , pussywhipped!beau , age gap [beau.40s] , established relationship , secret relationship , indecent exposure , messy cunnilingus , orgasm denial , corruption kink , 18+

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1080

#𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: literally no clue what this ended up being but ... can be read as a stand-alone , it’s based off neighbour!beau series i wrote about ages ago , because sheriff beau is making a come back :p

who knew messing with neighbour!beau would be this addictive...

everyone in town saw beau arlen as the perfect southern gentleman— courteous, protective, always putting the townspeople first. but behind closed doors, he had spent months methodically unraveling you with that slow, velvet-smooth charm and calculated hunger until you were utterly addicted, wound tight around his finger.

today, with your dad’s truck long gone, you decided to test just how tightly you could make said grown man snap.

beau was in his backyard, preparing to mow on the sweltering afternoon. he looked unfairly devastating in faded khaki shorts and a thin white t-shirt plastered to his broad chest, the fabric darkening with sweat along the collar. his baseball cap sat low, shadowing his eyes, but the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw and the dark hair dusting his calves were impossible to ignore.

you stepped outside in nothing but a skimpy string bikini, the fabric leaving almost nothing to the imagination. you caught his eye just as he reached for the mower’s pull-cord.