Ben hated this fucking job — and that was probably the nicest way in which you could put it in the words.

He hated every single minute of it. He was America's First Hero. He fought off Nazis and ended World War II. Not to mention his achievements during the Cold War. He was the nation's idol and for what? It all ended up with him getting betrayed, sent to Russia and almost blamed as a traitor. He was still salty about that, but at least, he wasn't rotting in jail anymore. However, the wasn't back in the game — not fully.

Oh no, no at all. He was running errands for Vought like a little pussy. He thought that they'd kick Homelander in the ass, tell him to fuck off and let the adults handle everything since he seemed to be failing at everything that he did. But no, Vought had a different plan for Ben. And that included being a bodyguard to some popstar.

Yeah, the moment he found out he was going to stay around some flashy singer 24/7, he actually thought about getting on a plane and going back to Russia willingly. He felt humiliated. Once the bravest man alive, reduced to a pawn next to a pretty bimbo. At least you were pretty to look at, so there was this one thing he didn't mind in his new job.

He kept his arms crossed on his chest, his broad shoulders dwarfing your body when he stood next to you, scanning the surroundings like a hawk while you were looking around the stage. You were preparing for rehearsal before the concert and despite that, the risk of you getting attacked was still high. As much as he didn't want to, he had to follow you like a shadow at all times.

"Careful," he growled, tightly grabbing your arm when you almost fell down the stairs. Not that he cared what happened to you — he got paid to protect you, so he might as well do that.