HEARTS ARE WILD CREATURES, THAT'S WHY OUR RIBS ARE CAGES

A shy Mexican geek girl. Superwholock lover.

[crittizen]

this is a poem

[wa-u-moved]

i couldn’t not draw this

[i-say-ok]

ok…!

[luxury-nightmare]

babe are you okay, your reblogging the subway rat poem again

[marvelmaniac715]

It’s been a long week

[here-am-i-sitting-in-a-tin-can]

oh i saw this in a sofia isella post lmao

[the-haiku-bot]

oh i saw this in

a sofia isella

post lmao

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

[waynes-multiverse]

Glitch 🌙 – Series Masterlist

Fastening myself to you with a stitch...🪡

Pairing: Dean Winchester x witch!reader

Series Summary: Despite the blood in your veins painting a glaring-red target on your back, John Winchester once left you alive and kept you hidden for a reason. But when his two grown sons drag their muddy boots onto your crime scene one day, the first meeting is anything but cute.

You have a regular job and a carefully constructed, somewhat normal life built on just enough lies to keep the supernatural at bay, cleaning up messes no one else wants to see. And you definitely never advertise the fact that your magic comes from a bloodline ancient enough to make demons jitter.

Dean Winchester, on the other hand, doesn’t even flinch. He sees a witch and reaches for a weapon – no questions asked. You lie to survive. Dean judges to cope. The rules of this world dictate the two of you are supposed to hate each other for eternity, but somewhere along the road, something glitches in the cosmic machinery of fate.

That glitch is you.

Warnings: 18+ language, canon-level violence, canon-divergence, set after 2x02, enemies to friends to lovers, super slow burn, eventual smut, mutual pining, idiots in love, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, mystery, reader is also a CSI, tons of witchy vibes (tarot, auras, herbalism, spells...)

Word Count: 45k and counting...

A/N: My first full canon-divergent, non-AU series that’s been ten years in the making 🤓 It’s my little attempt to fix canon (aka making Dean happy). The goal is to eventually cover all 15 seasons in various shapes and forms, but each season is kind of its own "book." I’ll also try to keep it as OG as possible, only brushing past canon as far as it allows and focusing more on bonus content than episodic rewrites. Ready for an epic adventure with the Winchesters? 😉💜

🌻 Soundtrack (Wildflower Magic Edition) ✨ Soundtrack (Midnight Magic Edition) ⛅️ Soundtrack (Daydream Magic Edition)

Main Masterlist || DW Masterlist || Tag List

The Spell of Enmity

Prologue: Down to My Very Soul 🔮 Tumblr: May 27 || Patreon

Chapter 1: Rough on the Surface 🔮 Tumblr: May 29 || Patreon

Chapter 2: Every Bait and Switch 🔮 Tumblr: June 5 || Patreon

Chapter 3: All of Those Best Laid Plans 🔮 Tumblr: June 12 || Patreon

Chapter 4: Do You Hate Me? 🔮 Tumblr: June 19 || Patreon: May 3

Chapter 5: Old Habits Die Screaming 🔮 Tumblr: June 26 || Patreon: May 10

Chapter 6: East Atlantic Breeze 🔮 Tumblr: July 3 || Patreon: May 17

...more to come

🚀 Join the crew here and read ahead!

Series Tag List:

@alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@jensensswthrt @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@lori19 @lacilou @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444 @syrma-sensei

@perpetualabsurdity @yoobusgoobus @jessjad @dayhsdreaming @hunter-or-the-hunted

@k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways @muhahaha303

@ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith @samslvrgirl

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02 @impala67rollingthroughtown @star-yawnznn

@spnaquakindgdom @americanvenom13 @lamentationsofalonelypotato @supernotnatural2005 @stoneyggirl2

@kr804573 @m0e0v0v @youroldfashioned @jassackles @periandernyx

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Oh, oh, oh this sounds AMAZING! I love stories like this that weave in with canon and this looks to be incredible my friend! I cannot wait for this one! 💜

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Thunder In Our Hearts Masterlist

Summary: While attempting to break out of the facility she’s been trapped in, the reader discovers Soldier Boy, knowing he’s her only way out alive. After an explosive escape, the pair strike a deal. He kills who she wants, she finds the location of who he wants dead while helping him get used to the modern world. But the pair have more in common than they’d like to admit and forced proximity has a way of making even assholes seem like they aren’t the bad guy…

Pairing: Soldier Boy x reader

Word Count: 28.5K

Warnings: language, nudity, violence, drug/abuse/sexual assault/torture mentions, male masturbation, smut

A/N: There will be spoilers for Season 3 of The Boys in this one. It picks up about a week after the end of Season 3. This series is complete!…

_______

Part 1

Part 2 

Part 3 

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

He Knows Timestamp

You’re Losing Me Timestamp

[zepskiesreads]

I WILL be reading this soon…

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

And if you’re looking for a less time-jumpy, completed Soldier Boy x reader fic of mine, I can’t highly recommend this one enough! We get forced proximity, a reluctant partnership, and all the “touch her and die” you could want! 💚

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

All Too Well (Part 1) - The Loss Of My Life

Summary: When the reader is freed from her nearly seventy years of captivity, she doesn't expect the love of her life, Soldier Boy, to be standing there at the door. Homelander wants them free for some reason but this pair desperately needs to reconnect, to try and understand what happened all those years ago when they thought they lost another. If reader and Soldier Boy want any chance of surviving this new world they've been thrust in, they'll have to remember it all. Even the parts that hurt the most...

Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x reader

Word Count: 8,900ish

Warnings: spoilers through S4, language, violence, smut, captivity, mention of torture/miscarriage/parental abuse, supes vs. humans, death, illness, adultery, threats of violence against a child, attempted murder/murder, vigilantism, mention of drug use/drinking/WW2 violence and more

A/N: Here we go! I'm so incredibly excited to finally be sharing this one! Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

2025

A commotion sounded outside your room. A loud one. That wasn’t entirely unusual. You knew the secret prison you lived in held others in their own rooms. Most weren’t as well-adjusted as you’d learned to become. Psychosis was a big concern. You were pretty sure there was a guy down the hall, Bob, that full on thought he lived on a moon base. He’d rant about the airlocks or some shit every time they took him for a shower. Another loud bang had your eyes flicking over the top of your worn book pages, eyes going to the solid steel door on the far side. You’d have thunk that they would have made sure the walls were soundproof or some shit. It grew quiet again, your focus back on your copy of The Fellowship Of The Ring. 

Your eye twitched when another loud bag interrupted you. You rose from your bed, staring up at the round black camera in the corner of the ceiling, gesturing to the door and making a face to keep it down out there. You were nearly back at your bed when the heavy metal door creaked open behind you. You rolled your eyes, ready to argue with Braydon, your new guard of the month. Little douchebag with a stupid ass name. You missed Rory. At least he’d shoot the shit with you. Hopefully he decided to come back someday.

Every fiber in your body froze when you turned and recognized the man before you. Your heart clenched, cracking, an old ache resurfacing. The wound had never healed properly, that much you knew. But this…your soul panged like you were back in that nightmare. Like it was that night all over again. 

He was as handsome as ever, still so young looking for his true age. How many times over the years had you fantasized of this moment? Of Ben breaking down the door heroically, picking you up in his arms and carrying you off to freedom, to the fairytale life the two of you thought you’d finally have.

But that Ben was a fantasy after all. 

“Hello Benjamin.” He shook his head, out of breath, looking you up and down. His chest rose and fell fast, his lips parted, pain in his eyes.

“How are you alive? And so young?” he demanded, a deepness to his voice you didn’t recognize. Whatever he was doing to it, that wasn’t his natural tenor. Even back in the day, he’d never spoken like that. Your Ben’s voice was all man but there was no fake bravado laced within it. It was like being wrapped in a warm blanket, strong but comforting, gentle in it’s touch. It was home. “I ain’t seen you since ‘57.”

Or maybe the fantasies had made you forget the real sound. After all, it’d been a long time since you’d spoken to one another.

“I suppose you can thank yourself for that.” You watched a guard appear behind him, contemplate entering the open room, and then think better of it, slowly backing away before running was heard echoing through the hall. You nodded at him when he pressed his lips into a thin line. “I like the beard. It suits you.”

“Y/N-”

“You sure took your sweet ass time coming back to me. How many years has it been?” He swallowed, flicking his eyes to the cement floor. There he was. Your boy. He still existed, even after all this time. It made your resigned heart flicker with hope but not enough to quite feel it.

“Sixty eight,” he whispered. He froze as you approached, stopping before him. You hesitated but placed a hand against his cheek, tilting his head back up. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth in your fingertips, they way his breath shuddered. Slowly, you let yourself look at him. You’d seen that face so many times over the years. In movies and interviews. In photographs and articles. The face that was a mask. But looking at him now, those green eyes were open. Honest. The same eyes you once drowned in. You didn’t know how or why but he was here. Not Soldier Boy. No, this was Benjamin Blake Bancroft, and for this moment in time, he was back. 

And you were too tired to care that he’d disappear soon and slip back into that fake superhero soon enough.

“Let’s get out of here, Ben. We have a lot to talk about,” you whispered. He nodded, even as your hand fell. “Especially that son of ours.”

“Ours?” Your stepped past the threshold to a dark cinderblock corridor. To your right was an older man in a suit but the man slightly behind him down the hall was who held your attention.

“Yes, Ben. Our son,” you said softly, not breaking eye contact as the tall blonde haired man in his blue suit and american flag cape took a few steps closer. “I assume you know who I am?”

The man stopped a few feet away, staring down his nose at you. It wasn’t crazed or angry or that stupid fake smile plastered on his face you’d seen in the news. He was confused and nervous and doing his best to hide it. Huh. Strange.

“Homelander-” You shot the older man a harsh look, shutting him up.

“I wasn’t speaking to you, old fuck.” You looked back to Homelander, his eyebrows slightly raised before he nodded and the other man went down the hall out of earshot. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, most of them I can’t answer.” You glanced over your shoulder as you felt Ben come up beside you. “We all have questions. Right now all I want to know is are you going to let me go or did you get me out so you could kill me?”

“No one is killing you,” Ben said gruffly, his gaze going to Homelander who was still staring at you. “No one is killing her.”

The “or else” was silent. No need to be said aloud. The chill in the air was enough to convey the message.

“Could you blame him if he wanted to, Benjamin?” you said quietly, Homelander’s face blank, a few rapid blinks of confusion crossing his features briefly. “It doesn’t matter that his father didn’t know he fathered a son. It doesn’t matter that they took his mother’s…and used some other woman as a surrogate. He should have been raised by us. We were meant to protect him.”

You stepped in front of Homelander, his chin raising as you approached.

“What’s your name? Your real name?” He took a beat, swallowing and looking away.

“John,” he mumbled. You nodded.

“Johnathon Bancroft. That’s your name.” He looked back at you, glancing beyond you to Ben, and then back. “So. What’s the next move, John?” 

“I…I was hoping we could be a proper family,” he said so quietly you barely heard him. Ben started to snort behind you, stopping himself when you shot him a look to kill. “The world is…difficult at the moment. It’s not…accepting of my vision yet. Supes are superior and I will lead us. I need strength on my side. I have a plan that requires support I can trust. Afterall, the only people in the world one can really trust is their parents, right?”

Ben snorted again, your arm reaching out and smacking his arm. Hard. It caused no damage or pain but he glared all the same. “Listen. You’ve been locked up for awhile, Y/N. You don’t know what he’s done or-” 

You laughed loudly, both of them staring at you like a wild animal.

“What he’s done? Oh, I know all his dirty secrets. Just like I do yours, Benjamin,” you growled, Ben’s back straightening like a steel rod, a dark look washing over his face. “Looking a lot like Griffin there, buddy boy.”

Ben instantly went wide eyed, taking a step back as he looked away. That cut deep, deeper than you intended. Despite what he’d done in his past, there was no way Ben was like that man. None. 

“I want to go home, Ben. Just get me out of here,” you whispered, no tears forming in your eyes but you felt a nagging in your gut. God you couldn’t remember the last time you had truly wept. Decades it must have been. It was alarming how the sight of him was making that protective numb wear away by the second. “You promised me.”

His breath hitched barely. Then he was looking at Homelander, giving him a stoic nod. “Show us where we’re going, John.”

Things were awkward to put it mildly. You knew what had transpired between Ben and Homelander, to a degree. The details, no. But Ben had attacked Homelander oh so briefly before turning on this group the CIA worked with time to time, The Boys. 

“How does she know what happened,” asked Homelander to the older gentleman from before, likely some bureaucratic puppet of his if you had to guess. The man grumbled back about your deal you had with the CIA. He had glanced back at you as you walked out of the secret prison you’d spent the past few decades in. 

At least it was better than the first one you’d stayed in.

None of them bothered to keep their voices down as they spoke, Ben’s ear perking as he listened in. 

“It’s simple,” you cut in, Homelander pausing a beat in his pace before walking confidently again, now with you by his side. “I got information about the outside world and Soldier Boy because I was an asset. Not a lot but if it had to do with supes, I knew it for the most part. It was in everyone’s best interest to not let me go crazy and knowledge helped with that.”

Homelander thought it over for a moment before seeming to agree with that assessment. “What did the CIA get in return?”

“Routine genetic testing. Blood draws. They play nice, I played nice,” you said, turning over your arm, tapping two fingers against the crook of your elbow. “They play mean, no blood for them to test. Pretty sure they were trying to develop anti-V or some shit. Never resulted in anything based on the number of pissed off scientists I’ve dealt with over the years.”

“Interesting. You’re not strong enough to fight back. How would you have stopped them?” Homelander asked. You turned down a corridor and touched the back of your hand to his cheek. It was warm, soft. Completely normal.

“And now…” You clenched, Homelander recoiling as your skin went cold and rigid. “Not much of a party trick but I am invulnerable when I choose to be. Obviously it’s done some things like keep me young but that’s about it.”

Homelander eyed you like an oddity, proud but thrown off. “You’ve never taken Compound V.”

“Correct.” His eyes flicked between you and Ben, narrowing slightly.

“How-” 

“Not a conversation for right now. Or possibly ever.” You gave him a look. Not a warning, not a threat, just a plain as day statement. His annoyance shone through but he flicked the urge to retort away with some effort as the older man with you got a phone call.

“Homelander, they need you in D.C. White house.” Homelander turned to you and Ben, nodding once.

“Well then. Off to work. A car will take the two of you to Vought tower. Apartments have been arranged for you both. I’ll return when I can. I have things I’d like to discuss. Soon.” You walked in silence outside, Homelander and the man departing, leaving you and Ben standing next to a black vehicle. It was too big to be a car but wasn’t quite a truck either. The back emblem showed it was a Lincoln. Nice to know that at least some things in the world you could recognize. 

You slid inside the back door first, Ben trailing after you. He kept staring at you but you weren’t ready for this conversation, not with pressing ears around.

It took two hours but finally you were in NYC, in Vought tower, standing in an obnoxiously grand apartment that was all your own. Something about the floor to ceiling windows seemed ominous. The sky was dark, storm clouds looming, but that wasn’t it. Maybe you’d simply spent too many years locked in ten by ten foot rooms. 

It took less than two minutes before Ben was walking in through the open door to the place, the woman that had shown you your new abode looking between you both before scuttling away like a mouse. The heavy wood door closed with a deafening sound in the large airy space. You turned around to face him, Ben’s eyes roaming over your body momentarily, green eyes landing back on your lips.

He was ever so stunning in his Soldier Boy suit. You’d always thought so but this new one…it was your favorite of all of his over the years. A work of art. The little cowl around his neck made him look boyish. Young. 

Your eyes traced his face, all those layers of protection you’d placed on your soul washing away with one inhale of his breath.

It ached. It longed. It mourned. Your heart wasn’t your own once again. Then again, it never had been. Your heart had never been yours to give away in the first place. He had stolen it before you knew what a love like that even was. The thief stood right there, a heaviness in his body that made you want to rush into his arms and tell him it’d be okay. 

“I missed you so…” he whispered, barely audible.

“Benjamin.” He stepped closer, steps cautious. Heavy boots stopped a few feet away from your bare feet, Ben’s eyes panicked under that mask of indifference he was trying and failing to slip back on. 

“Y/N-”

“Let me be very clear. I will speak to Ben. You pull that Soldier Boy shit, you be anything, anything, other than Benjamin, I will never speak to you again.”

He nodded, his breath catching when you stepped right up to him, placing a hand on his cheek. A large hand covered your own, his eyes closing.

“Tell me the note wasn’t real,” he whispered. You shook your head, clearly another piece of life you didn’t know about.

“Honestly, I don’t know what on earth you’re talking about.” He smiled, some of the weight leaving his shoulder. He nodded as he reopened his lids. “What did this note say?”

“That you couldn’t be with a pathetic excuse for a man like me, that that’s why you left me.” 

“Griffin,” you growled. “I guarantee he wrote that note the bastard.” He frowned, a wave of understanding coming over him. “I never left, Ben. He had me taken, gave me to Vought to be experimented on I learned later on. He just wanted me out of the way, didn’t give a shit if I lived or died. Probably figured I’d be dead fast but…”

“But what? They gave you V and you survived?” You shook your head.

“I…apparently I was pregnant, at least that’s what they think happened.” Ben blinked his eyes, searching for words he couldn’t find. “It’s all a guess, Ben. I was pregnant and somehow absorbed the V.”

“I don’t understand. You were pregnant with Homelander? But he’s too young,” he whispered, your head shaking. 

“No, not him. I was a few days along at most, maybe, they didn’t know for sure. It’s the only thing that makes sense for why I’m still alive. It’s hard to remember. I think they drugged me a lot. I lost…” You trailed off, pinching the bridge of your nose while he stared at you, his green eyes sullen. “All I can remember is pain and then one day, I could make my skin rock hard. Vought kept trying to…hurt me to test it. It took me a few years to learn to control it. They theorized that I was pregnant and somehow absorbed a micro dose of Compound V. The stress they put on my body during those first days of being taken made it not viable…it was so long ago there’s no way to prove if I ever was but that was their best guess. That I got V from our child before I miscarried. Otherwise, I would have died a very long time ago. What they did…normal humans can’t survive that.”

His hand slid down to your stomach, thumb brushing through your thin shirt.

“We made…but we lost…” You nodded, Ben swallowing thickly. Fingertips gently gripped your skin, a shaky quiet breath the only sound in the air. “How do you know Homelander’s yours?” His voice was a low whisper.

“I was Vought’s only known instance of a person being able to get pregnant from a supe, back then at least. They knew our DNA would work together. Or at least figured it would. They…took some eggs, put the embryo in a surrogate, didn’t want to risk it failing or killing me since I’d stopped aging. Again, this is what they told me. Not long after that, Vought was raided and the CIA found me, put me in that secret prison in the early eighties. They didn’t hurt me like Vought but…fuck, this wasn’t supposed to my life, Ben. Either of ours. We were supposed to leave your father behind, leave the war and Vought behind. We were supposed to just be us. We’re alive but we lost our lives. It’s like we’ve been dead for decades.”

He lowered his head, resting his hand on your hip. “You didn’t leave me.”

“No. But you left me.” His head snapped up, your chin raising. “I know who Soldier Boy is.”

“I was Soldier Boy back when-”

“You were kind, a little cocky and flirty but you were full of so much love. Soldier Boy now? He hurts people, innocent people. Benjamin was a little boy that cried and got spanked in front of the damn house staff by his father all because he wouldn’t shoot a bunny rabbit when he was nine years old. I know about your team Payback. The boys club bullshit. I know about the drugs, the booze, the fucking orgies and sex parties. You’d given it all up and then you went back to it a million times harder. I love Benjamin Blake Bancroft. I’ll always love him. But I hate Soldier Boy. Him? He’s the kind of man that has spent the past 68 years treating me like a science experiment. So you decide who you want to be. Ben or Soldier Boy. One gets you that psychopath of a son Homelander, fame, all the girls and drugs you could ever want. The other…” You shrugged, blinking up at him with wet eyes. “Me. A broken, fucked up version of me that can never give you the family you wanted. And I know which one you’ll choose.”

“Don’t you remember, Y/N?” You blinked again, Ben resting his forehead against yours, his fingers wiping the tears falling down your cheeks. “It’s always been you.”

September 1957

You bit back a groan as Rodger crawled down the obnoxiously long drive to Bancroft Manor in his new red Lincoln Premier. An overwhelming part of you wished you never saw this place ever again. It’d been a few years since you stepped foot inside and that still wasn’t long enough. But an even larger part would always see it as your childhood home. Your very strange home.

“Here I thought my parents were rich. Makes the mansion they gifted us look like a shoebox,” Rodger claimed beside you, chuckling when you lightly smacked his shoulder. “You really grew up here?”

“See that section?” You pointed to the very far end of the eastern wing. “I grew up in the staff quarters. We had a tiny little kitchen and one bathroom we shared with the dozen other staff. Mom and I shared a little one bedroom the size of this car.”

“But you grew up with that hunky Benjamin Bancroft,” he teased, earning him another smack. “Oh, I forgot. You were just childhood friends. Nothing more.”

“Exactly. I haven’t seen Ben in fifteen years.” Rodger snorted beside you as he drove past a manicured hedge. “I am a demure, mature, thirty three year old woman that has no interest in that boy.”

“Right, right. You realize your age was the only part of that sentence that was true, right?” You flicked his ear, Rodger pouting. “You know, you’re lucky I’m not jealous of your crush. Most fiancés would put a nip in that.”

“You ain’t most fiancés, honey,” you shot back, grinning over at him in time to catch him returning it. “I so do not have a crush on Ben.”

“Of course not. Silly me,” he said again, driving around the circular bend you pointed him to. “Remind me again why the fuck we’re having our engagement party here?”

“Because your mother hates me because I’m ‘the help’ and the only reason she did not beat me off with her broomstick was because Louella Bancroft is her friend and has known me my whole life and vouched that I am very much in love with you and not after your family’s money.”

“Okay, you get points for implying my mother is a witch but why do we have to do this here? We could have had it at our place. True, it’s not bigger than grand central station like this place but we’re not schmucks.”

You sighed, running a hand over the skirt of your dress. “Because Louella never had a daughter and I don’t think Benjamin is the marrying type in her eyes. She and my mom are still close and you know how women are, they love planning parties and all that jazz.” Rodger parked the car, giving you a bitch face. “Oh, that’s a good one. Putting that in the top ten of ‘57.”

“I am so happy I found you you ridiculous fucking woman,” he laughed. “So we get the party my mother wants and…your mother and Louella get to piss off Griffin Bancroft in the process? Is that how they get their kicks?”

“I love a smart boy,” you teased, patting his head. The playfulness ran out of the air fast though, both of you suddenly on edge. “We could be fashionably late?”

“We were due at six, dear. It’s already seven.” You nodded, Rodger clasping your hand. “We go in, we talk to my parents and your mother, do a sweep of the room, eat some cake, drink copious amounts of alcohol and we feign we can’t keep our hands off each other and are out of here by 9:00.”

“You’re cute when you’re naive,” you said, squeezing his hands. “This is a Bancroft party. It don’t end until at least midnight, sweetie. Now come on, sooner we get this over with the sooner we can go back home and get drunk in private.”

He steadied himself, throwing on a smile the moment he exited the car, walking around to open your door for you. You looped your arm through his, taking a moment to smooth out his jacket. He wore a dove gray suit jacket, black trousers, with a green tie that matched your outfit. United front and all that. You tugged down the skirt of your sage green A-line dress as Rodger placed a gentle hand on your arm. “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

“I feel like a fraud. I used to clean the bathrooms in this place. All my friends still work here,” you said quietly, approaching the grand front entrance with a covered stone archway. You craned your neck upwards, taking in the three story monstrosity made of stone and mortar, grand windows that gave the glimpse of how grand the place was within.

A cold, empty, lifeless, grand palace. The only life to have ever existed was down in those servants quarters. The rest was all for fucking show. Tonight was your debut to the stage after all these years of watching from the wings and you were this close to turning around.

Think of mother. 

You swallowed, closing your eyes when a late September breeze caught you both. It lacked the days warmth and you instinctively stepped closer, both of you forgoing overcoats this evening. Rodger hummed, leaning down to your ear. “We get through tonight and tomorrow you can lounge about our tiny shoebox mansion in nothing more than my shirts and shorts like the little degenerate of a lady you are.”

“You know me so well,” you said, resting your head against his broad shoulder. His gentle lips kissed the top of your hair, the two of you paused on the walkway. “You’re funny and tall and intelligent and strong and really, really hot and you don’t care at all how I act, who I am.”

“Right back at you, sweetheart,” he said, spinning you to face him, inhaling deeply, looking around quickly to ensure you were alone. “Life’s a real bitch, ain’t it?”

“She sure is,” you whispered, Rodger hugging you tight. “Happy wife, happy life, right?”

“Something like that,” he returned. He was slower as you walked up to the archway, letting you take the lead when a servant went to open the door. 

“Mr. Ellis. Ms. Y/L/N,” said Charlie Keery. You didn’t let him open the door inside quite yet, instead ambushing him in a hug. He laughed lightly, giving you a squeezing one in return. “I missed you too. We haven’t seen you since Bets birthday party back in the summer. Too good to slum it with the help now?”

“Is that a gray hair I see? It seems to be spreading,” you said as you patted the tiny patch of gray in his stubble. Charlie scoffed while Rodger chuckled, his fingers interlaced with yours.

“I’m forty two, fuckhead,” he shot back with a smile, giving Rodger a weary look. “Apologies, sir-”

“Oh, I’m well aware of who I’m marrying. If it were up to me, we’d be having this party at a sleazy little bar with our real friends. Arriving in any formal wear or using titles get you tossed out the back.” Charlie smiled at Rodger and quickly back to you.

“Reminds me of Benjamin.” Rodger made a shit eating grin at you before shaking Charlie’s hand. “Charlie Keery. Shittiest butler on the planet according to Griffin Bancroft.”

“Rodger Ellis. Professional trust fund baby and disappointment to my parents thirty seven years running. Aiming to hit thirty eight years in a few months.” The men shared a laugh, Rodger slapping his back. “I like this fucker too.”

“We’ll catch up later on. Rodge, I’ll show where us ‘poors’ lived and you can lose all your money to these losers in their weekly poker game. Rodger’s so shitty at poker even you’ll be able to beat him, Charlie.,” you said. Charlie barked out a laugh before putting on a professional face as he put a hand on the door. 

“Going to wipe the floor with rich boy’s ass,” he said, straightfaced, flashing you a quick wink.

“Oh, only in your dreams, buddy,” Rodger shot back. Charlie waited a beat for you both to nod before he opened the door for you, warm light washing over you.

The foyer of Bancroft manor was massive. Two stories tall, large windows over the front doors, intricate wood covering every surface. It was a beautiful home. Plush curtains, antique paintings, and a grand painted family portrait front and fucking center of it all.

The image demanded every entrants attention. Louella clad in a shiny champagne colored dress as she sat on a velvet emerald green chaise. Griffin in a three piece black suit to her right, hand on her knee. A slightly older version of Ben, certainly not him as a teenager at least, stood off to the side, just slightly behind his mother, hand on her shoulder. 

It was subtle but you knew that look on his face. He’d just argued with his father, taken more insults, likely moments before they were set to pose for a ridiculous number of hours for the stupid painting. 

Why doesn’t he want me, Y/N?

You blinked away the memory of his pained words, Rodger breathing sharply beside you as the air in the room shifted. A laugh, an overexcited squeal, someone drunkenly talking too loudly in the main room, all attention on you. 

“The happy couple at last! We were starting to wonder if you two would ever show,” teased Louella, approaching in a royal navy blue dress that hung to her long, lean frame. She was in her late fifties and still could blow away women half her age. Griffin himself was quite handsome, even at his older age now, but you knew Ben’s gentle green eyes and his luscious locks were gifts from his mother.

“Oh, Lou Lou, you know he’s insatiable,” you teased, Rodger flushing on cue. Hugs were exchanged, Rodger and Louella introducing you through the wards of people in foyer that had bothered to show themselves, the rest too busy getting drunk or smoking in the grand sitting room.

“Excuse me, dear,” you said, patting Rodger’s arm when you were meeting the twelve thousandth associate of his father’s. “I’m going to go say hello to my mother before it gets too late.”

He shifted his left wrist, his eyes flashing in surprise that it was already eight and you hadn’t made it more than five feet inside. “Of course, sweetheart. I’ll come find you soon.”

You pecked a kiss to his cheek before escaping the conversation, catching the smirk on Betty’s face as she walked past with a tray, stopping in front of you. “Old fashioned, Ms. Y/L/N?”

“I’m so stealing you to come work for Rodger,” you whispered in her ear as you picked up the glass. Betty’s jaw dropped, a wide grin on her face. “Or would you miss Charlie too much?”

“He asked me out. Fucking finally.” You took your turn to go slack-jawed, Betty humming. “I’ll fill you in at the poker game later?”

“Yes, tell me everything. I’ve been waiting years for this,” you said, spotting Louella coming up from Betty’s behind out of nowhere.

“Now you girls weren’t about to gossip without me, were you?” she asked, you and Betty sharing a well versed smirk. “Fine, fine, have your secrets. Just remember, I know everything that goes on around here, including what happened in the gardening shed two nights ago.”

“Oh would you look at that, no drinks on my tray, tsk tsk. Places to be, ladies,” said Betty, scurrying off back towards the kitchen. You smiled at Louella, her gaze drifting back to the front door. 

“Betty and Charlie?” you asked, Louella nodding furiously. “Wow. That’s only been a decade in the making. All it took was me to move out for it to happen.”

“Or Charlie got nervous that some rich boy was going to come along and sweep Betty away like Rodger did with you.” You didn’t respond, only sipped from your glass, her ever watchful green eyes on you. “Does he make you happy?”

“Yes,” you answered, a practiced softness to your words. She tilted her head up, questioning it. “I’m very grateful to have met Rodger and for him to not give credence to the fact I was a working girl.”

“Not even married yet and already good at the polished lies.” You took a longer sip, Louella nodding. “You’re marrying him for the money, dear. Your mother and I both know it.”

“Isn’t that why you married Griffin? To move up from being a milk maid on a farm?” She stepped closer, an unpleasant chill running down your spine.

“You’ve seen under the shiny facade of this life. I know that your mother is ill and she’s set to travel to the Swiss bath houses next week to get the best medical care in the world. Expensive care. Do not sell your soul to the devil to give her a few more years of life. We both know-”

“Rodger is not like Griffin,” you cut in, Louella stilling. “There are much worse things in life than to be married to a kind and wealthy man.”

“Benjamin-”

“Has no bearing on my decision. We were never anything more than childhood friends. I haven’t spoken to him in years.” She held your firm gaze, a flash of pity in her eyes. “Mrs. Bancroft, I am marrying Rodger Ellis. End of story.”

“You know all too well who you’d be marrying if it weren’t for Griffin.” You scoffed, Louella properly frowning back. “You and Ben-”

“Benjamin is thirty seven years old and frankly far too old to be afraid of what his daddy thinks. But we both know that is exactly why Ben is who he really is now and he’s never going to change.” Louella’s expression shifted, something frightened to it. It quickly passed, a stoic nod, like a nervous tick, returned to you. 

“I suppose you’re right. Ben’s made his choice and you’ve made yours. Your mother’s in the dining room with Clayton.” 

“Thank you.” You paused, offering a reassuring smile, Louella’s defences dropping in turn. “I know you would have found a way to give her the money if you could have and this party is your way of apologizing. It’s okay. I know you tried.”

She gave you a sad smile, hugging you tightly, pressing her lips to your ear. “Don’t marry a man you don’t love, dear. Even for your mother. She doesn’t want that. You and Benjamin deserve better.”

And then, she was gone, a practiced smile on her face as you were left alone, eyes scanning the crowd of people. No one approached you. Rodger was who these people were really here for and even then, not him truly. Only his family’s power, the urge to stay within the Ellis’ good graces. 

You slid back to a dark corner of the hallway, down where it grew quiet. A heavy door opened and shut behind you as you slid into a dark study. Griffin’s. You’d only ever entered the space for two reasons. To clean it as an employee or when you were scolded as a child alongside Benjamin. You’d been a girl, no more than eight, the harsh memory etched into your very being.

Ben sat on the couch behind you, the image of a proper school boy, head low, hands in lap. You tried to smooth out your dirty dress, the hem tinged with blood from the gash on your knee. Griffin Bancroft was a tall man at six foot one and stared down at your barely four foot frame, like some monster from a fairy tale ready to devour you.

You looked up at him, an incredulous look being returned to you. “What kind of manners is your mother teaching you? Is that school of yours? Keep your head down, child.”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong.” Ben’s sharp intake of air behind you had his father’s gaze flickering away for only a moment before it was back on you. Suddenly, you were in the air, Griffin hoisting you up under your arms, holding you at eye level, your feet dangling well above the floor.

“I see it in your eyes you little urchin,” he growled, squeezing your body so tight tears welled in your eyes. “You’re always running amok with my son as if you were a boy. Little girls are to sit with their dolls and play quietly. But you wreck havoc on this home.”

“I fell when I was climbing. I d-didn’t do anyth-” He shook you once, a pained whimper slipping out.

“Speak out of turn again and I’ll ensure your mommy disappears forever and you wind up in an orphanage with very bad people. If I catch you tracking dirt and blood into this house ever again, I will make you disappear and blame it on your mother. Am I clear, little brat?” 

You nodded, too afraid to speak, Griffin setting you down on the hardwoods. He straightened his suit jacket and patted your head, as if you were a dog. 

“Run along and clean up your mess. Never speak of this to anyone or there’ll be consequences.” You nodded, Griffin spinning you around and patting your bottom uttering you out. For one split second, you saw Ben’s face on the couch, a strange mixture of horror and anger that looked out of place on his boyish face. 

You were nearly out the door when the couch cushions shuffled, one glance over your shoulder revealing Ben on his feet, not much taller than yourself, not bothering to fix his small blazer that had wrinkled up.

“If you hurt Y/N or her mom, I’ll tell everyone it was you,” said Ben, nodding at you with a flat smile before turning his little body to face his brooding father. “We were playing and she fell. She didn’t even make a mess inside the house. Leave her alone.”

“She is the help, not your friend. You do not-”

“Yes she is! I-I’ll tell my teacher you threatened a little girl. I’ll tell all of my friends at school!” You were frozen solid next to the large mahogany door, Griffin sizing up his son, a curious yet insidious look in his eye. Ben faltered under the scrutiny, stepping back, knee hitting the edge of the leather clad sofa making him stumble. 

“Enjoy your summer with the girl, Benjamin. Come September, you’ll be attending a new school. In Massachusets." 

“Massachusets? But that’s so far away. How am I supposed to come home?” Griffin chuckled darkly, bending down to get at his son’s level, leering at him.

“You don’t,” he answered plainly. “Thanksgiving, Christmas, summer you’ll be at the manor. The remainder of the year you’ll be at the Havensworth Boarding School for Young Men. I was undecided but this little outburst cemented my decision that you need a firmer hand. You have the balls to speak back to your father? Then surely you’re man enough to go learn to be a proper one. Dismissed.”

Barely a second passed before you were in the hall, Benjamin joining you quickly, the door shutting loudly behind you both. You swallowed, words stuck in your throat. You didn’t understand Griffin. You didn’t understand what you did wrong or why he was sending Ben away. All you knew was you felt like it was your fault.

“I’m sorry I got you in trouble,” you whispered. A small hand touched your face, your shaky eyes meeting sad green ones.

“He’s just old and mean,” he said, wiping off your wet cheeks a little too roughly. “I don’t care if he sends me away, you’re still my best friend.”

“Maybe if I-I stop talking to you, he won’t make you leave.” He shook his head. “Ben-”

“He’s an…asshole,” Ben whispered, your eyebrows shooting up. He put a little hand over your mouth. “That’s a bad word, don’t say it.”

“Asshole,” you whispered when he moved it away, a moment of stillness before you quietly giggled. “What did your dad mean when he said-”

“Don’t listen to him. I’ll protect you.”

You blinked, the room back in focus, dark wood and books on shelves, a decanter of whiskey half filled near the desk. Just a room. Just a place that gave you nightmares as a child as you grew older and finally understood Griffin’s threat. Just a room where Benjamin had stood on his own. A room where you fell in love with a boy and hadn’t even known it.

With the confidence of a woman that had nothing to lose, you grabbed the decanter and poured yourself two fingers worth into a glass that cost more than what your mother earned in a year. You knocked back the drink, swallowing around the smooth burn, squeezing your eyes shut as flames boiled your insides momentarily. 

God, why did life have to be so fucking hard.

Another minute, another drink poured. Fuck Griffin and his expensive as shit whiskey. If you had the misfortune of running into the pretentious ass tonight, you’d gladly tell him his drink choice was crap. At least it was strong. The alcohol was making your skin flush and you easily slipped through the french doors at the back of the den, exiting onto the raised side patio. The breeze from earlier was lighter but refreshing, cooling you off as you walked across the gray stone terrace to the stone railing. Glass set down, you surveyed the dark yard, a few lights sprinkled in the distance giving the deception of a lovely evening walking path through hedges and greenery until you reached the far fountain and the thick forest beyond.

It was a beautiful charade of romanticism complete with a musky tobacco and vanilla scent. Fuck, it smelled like Benjamin had the last time you’d seen him.

“Stealing Griffin’s booze? I can get behind that.” Your head whipped around, heart in your throat as a figure emerged from the alcove to the right of the study, pacing across the stone to stand beside you, the amber liquid in his glass shorter than your own.

It’d been fifteen years and it was truly unfair how good Benjamin Bancroft looked. The boy had stolen your heart, created butterflies and an unnatural giddiness in your bones. The man? 

Yeah, the man had you squeezing your thighs together and from the look on his face, he fucking noticed.

At least he wasn’t wearing that ridiculous Soldier Boy suit tonight. But only Benjamin could pull off a white shirt and black slacks and make it look hotter than sin.

“I don’t recall inviting you to my party,” you said, turning your shoulder away, looking back to the yard. The heat of his body radiated off him, Ben stepping dangerously close but still so far.

“I don’t recall getting an invite so looks like we’re on the same page.” You rolled your eyes, Ben leaning his forearms against the stone railing, watching the grounds with you. “I had to see it with my own eyes.”

“See what?” you scoffed.

“The con of the century, honey,” he smirked. You narrowed your eyes in his direction, Ben tilting his head. “Eh, maybe not century. Decade for sure though.”

“You’ve been pretending to be America’s wonder boy for too long. Soldier Boy.” His face stayed steady but you saw the flash of surprise in his eyes. “Maybe you’re the con of the decade. Playboy and fuckup Ben Bancroft is actually Soldier Boy. Imagine if daddy’s friends knew who you really were.”

“Some of them do,” he stated matter of factly. “Most people find Soldier Boy impressive.”

“The key word in that sentence being most.” You sipped your drink, Ben watching you, something playful to him. “Not going to ask how I figured it out?”

“Any moron with two eyes could look at Soldier Boy and me and realize we’re the same guy. But morons are morons for a reason. No one would ever believe trust fund fuck up Ben is him. So how’d you-”

“Don’t play fucking games with me, Benjamin. I know who you really are and we both know the only fuck up in this house is your father.”

He hummed, swirling his drink it’s glass, both your attention caught on a stray orange leaf floating through the wind. “You’re smart. That’s why you know I’m him.”

“Won’t disagree with you there.” He laughed softly, the sound making you turn back to him. He sighed, biting his bottom lip as he shifted a half step closer, looking through his lashes when his strong shoulders turned his body toward yours. “Why not let everyone know you’re Soldier Boy? Why hide it?”

“Because Soldier Boy is supposed to be a poor street kid, the backbone of America rising to greatness. No one wants to find out he’s a rich fuck that got kicked out of school and got his insanely powerful father’s friends in the State department to turn me into a freak.”

“You think you’re a freak?” you asked without thinking, your voice slipping, revealing a weariness to it. He shrugged it off, picking up his glass. “Did it hurt? Whatever they did to change you?”

“Why haven’t you told me to fuck off yet?” he asked without looking, drowning the whole glass in one go. 

“Don’t worry, I will soon,” you said, Ben smirking. A light pink tinged his cheeks, your heart pitter pattering in your chest.

You still made him blush.

“Although I can tell you to get lost if that’d make you feel better.” He stood up straight, holding out his left arm to you, palm up. You stared at it, Ben resting your hand flat over the top of it.

“They pushed a syringe with blue liquid into my arm and then it felt like my whole body was on fire. I was strapped down to a table screaming for someone to kill me for what felt like days. I honestly thought I’d died and gone to hell.” He dropped your hand, shoving it in his trousers pocket. “But I got more muscles and the girls love that, right?”

He didn’t smile though, the breeze playing with his brown strands, flicking the ends up oh so delicately.

“You think you’re a freak.” 

“I can lift a car overhead as it it were a book. I can hear half the conversations in that house if I concentrated enough. I can hear how your heart rate matches mine,” he trailed off quietly, looking to his black loafers. “Enough about me. Let’s talk about this con of yours.”

“Oh yeah? What con is that?” you shot back, lifting your chin, sipping your liquor in a deep swig.

“You and Rodger. You know your fiancé likes to fuck men, right?” You nearly choked on the liquor sliding down you throat, Ben whacking your back and sending it straight over the railing into the bushes. 

“Jesus christ Benjamin!” You glared at him, a smug look on his face. “How dare you say such a thing!”

“I don’t hear you denying it,” he said, inspecting his nails, eyes shooting you a cutting look. “Oh, sweetie. You’re too smart to not know.” Your eye twitched up at him, Ben chuckling. He stepped closer once again, the heat from his body radiating off him, chest pressed against yours. “I’ve known Ellis since I was thirteen. Pretty sure most of the school knew he liked boys before he did.”

“You know nothing.”

“Oh so that’s not Rodger and Clayton I hear fucking in the coat closet, moaning each other’s names?” You stared at him, still as a statue. He frowned back, a clench to his jaw. “If you think I have a problem with the two of them, I don’t. Those boys were sucking and fucking since we were fifteen. It’s kind of cute they’re still together over twenty years later.”

“What a romantic you are,” you deadpanned, Ben’s mood lightening, a soft laugh filling the night air. “How the hell do you know about them?”

“Clayton was my roommate junior year at Havensworth. I may have walked in on the fellas once or…fifty times,” he said, tilting his head. “So. Why are you marrying a man into dick?”

“Jealous?” you huffed, crossing your arms. Ben crossed his in return, eyes darkening.

“Believe me, the boys invited me to…partake. We could have been the ultimate trust fund boy threesome. Alas, I only have eyes for the…” He trailed a finger over your collarbone, watching the skin pebble with goosebumps. “Curvier sex.”

“What a modern man I’m in the presence of.” He flashed you a sharp grin, predatory like. His finger traced across your throat, thumb resting on it as he cupped the back of your neck.

“Let me guess. Ellis marries you and gets his parents off his back all while little Clayton lives in the mansion with you and you get what, money?” 

“Everyone needs money, Ben.”

“I’ll give you whatever you need.” You took a step back, glaring at him. “Y/N, don’t fucking marry Rodger for money. Between my trust and what Vought pays me, I can more than take care of you both. My father has no say over that money.”

“My mother is sick and she needs the best care, Ben. The best. It’s not just about the money. Rodger’s parents know people and got her into an experimental clinic in Switzerland.” 

“Yeah, cause experimental clinics go over so well in my experience,” he said without thinking. You sighed, Ben holding up his hands. “Sorry. I’m sorry Delia is ill. It must be bad if you’re going through all this trouble.”

“Cancer. It’s all over her body but they say that she could live another few years if…” Ben was giving you the same look he did when you’d found an injured bird when you were seven. It’d only lasted a few hours before it finally died. It was buried in a shoe box somewhere out past the gardening shed if you recalled correctly. “You think it’s useless to try.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way but does your mother actually want the treatment?” You stayed quiet, Ben gently resting his hands on your arms. “Y/N. Let her go on her own terms.”

“Easy for you to say. You hate your father.”

“Easy?” he scoffed, walking away, wiping a hand over his face when he spun back. “I’ve only felt loved by three people in my life. One is about to marry a man that doesn’t love her and she doesn’t love him. The other is my mother and yours. Don’t tell me it’s easy for me to say that about Delia. But I know my mother and I wouldn’t subject her or yours to something she doesn’t want just for another year. Haven’t our mothers been told what to do enough in their lives?”

“I know,” you whispered, closing your eyes. With a shaky breath, you let a tear escape, a shudder leaving you. “Why are we talking about this?”

“Because I don’t want you to marry Rodger Ellis.” You blinked open your eyes as Ben cupped your cheek, this thumb pad wiping away your tears. “I still remember the time in the study and I was wiping your face. My father threatened your life. A child’s life.”

“He’s a real asshole,” you whispered, sadly smiling, Ben laughing to himself. “Rodger will take care of me even after my mom’s gone. He’s a good man, Ben.”

“If Rodger really knew you, he’d know that you don’t need anyone to take care of you,” he mumbled, resting his forehead against yours. “You just think it’d be nice if there was someone who would every once in a while. Someone like a little boy that’ll stand up for you even when he’s scared shitless.”

Your bottom lip wobbled as he recited a letter you’d written him when he was at boarding school, twenty years ago.

“Please,” Ben whispered, brushing his nose with yours. “I’ve loved you my whole life. Don’t marry him.”

“Are you offering instead?” you breathed out, Ben’s breath hitching but no words following. Your heart sank as you shook your head. “I didn’t think so.”

“Please,” he begged, voice so high it sounded like it belonged to someone else. “My father forbid it. You surely know that if it weren’t for him-“

“You can’t have me until you stop picking him first. You’re thirty seven, Ben. You have to stop being so damn afraid of him.” You tilted your head up and pressed your lips to his, a perfect rightness spreading over your body, Ben pulling your body tight to his. You pushed him away though, Ben letting you go despite the fact he could easily overpower you. You smoothed out your dress, Ben breathing hard. “I gave myself to you Ben and you chose him over me. It’s been fifteen years since I gave myself to you and you’re still picking a father that will never love you. Until you fix that, don’t seek me out again.”

You picked up your glass and went back inside, finding Rodger looking only slightly disheveled in the dining room. His smile quickly disappeared, Rodger pulling you away to a quiet corner. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“My mother should stay here. In Philly,” you said, his shoulder falling slowly, a nod of understanding passing through him. “I’ll still marry you, don’t worry about that.”

“Don’t worry about that shit right now,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, embracing you in his strong arms. “Spend as much time with her as you can.”

“I just wish…” 

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I know.”

A/N: Soooo what did we think of Part 1? What's your favorite element so far? The two different time periods? The dynamics of reader and Ben? Of Ben versus Soldier Boy? The angsty Bancroft family? What the hell is reader doing about to marry another man? What the hell is Homelander doing breaking his parents out of captivity?!

I promise future parts will not be as long (for the most part) but I'm so excited for everyone to dive into this epic love story with all the boys flair that comes with it!

[zepskies]

OMGGG MICHELLE, it's here!!! 💚💚💚

You promised an epic of a story, and already I'm so invested in both sides of this time-sweeping, angsty romance!! 😍

And such an interesting place to start in the beginning! If I'm not mistaken, we're basically at the present timeline post-S4 (pre-S5), where Homie just woke up dear old dad...

I'm SUCH a sucker for a reunion when soulmates are kept from seeing each other for such a long time, and essentially have to relearn one another in that moment, despite their essence feeling the same. I particularly loved the detail of her noticing that his voice was much deeper than when she knew him.

The way you wove in reader into this is also very clever, with she and Ben still being his father, but Vought having literally harvested her eggs in order to create Homelander. 😭 How very on brand.

My heart honestly broke for her (and Ben) when she was explaining how she likely got V into her system. It also doesn't surprise me that Vought stressed out her body so much that she miscarried their first child. I bet Ben's thirst for revenge is going to be worse than ever now that he knows what she went through, while he was also going through 40 years of torture on his end. (Wonder how reader will react to that as well.)

But I really like how reader makes the distinction between "Soldier Boy" the persona, the man he became after he thought reader left him, and "Ben," the man she fell in love with. The moment where he finally let his guard down with her and listened to her explain what happened to her, despite the urge to maintain his bravado, the mask, was probably my favorite scene. The sadness and the yearning was palpable. ❤️‍🩹💙❤️‍🩹

And it also seems I'm going to be hating Ben's father in every universe, because just like Wayne's TAT, your version of him truly fucking sucks and I'm already plotting his demise! 😡 Griffin is such an even more blatantly abusive bastard. Those are the kinds of men of the 1940s/50s that are often glossed over — that literally feel they have the right to put hands on a child. 🤮

But I can also see why younger reader of the past has drawn her line in the sand with Ben. If he can't choose to marry her and defy his father, the man who's never shown him love, then he really has no right to stop her from marrying for security (I had a feeling there was something deeper going on with her fiancé if he was willing to marry below his class lol).

Clearly I had a lot of thoughts here, but that's because this was such a strong opening chapter with so many angsty delicious tidbits to explore! I can't wait to see where you take this next, my friend!! 😍💚

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

It's here!!! 💚💚💚

The dual timelines are the crux to this story imo. We will hop back and forth but they won't be fast jumps, we're going to spend some time once we enter one (hint hint we're just starting our journey in 1957 for the moment).

This is exactly post canon S4 and pre S5 as you said! You can think of it as five seconds after that post credits scene and Homie decides to wake up pops 😂

These two are very much soulmates and yet, in the present, they don't know one another anymore. Y/N knows some of who Soldier Boy is and what he's done but she's got a very limited knowledge of what the world is like. Ben himself was tortured for forty years, out for a week and then back on ice a few more years. Neither one of these two really know their place in the world anymore and suddenly they're faced with the one person they used to inherently trust most and it's a lot for them both. Ben will have a lot of feelings he has to work through as he reconciles she didn't leave him but was actually taken.

It was important to me to find a way to retain canon and yet make the reader an important piece of this and her objectively horrendous story of what's gone on to her was the key. This is the world of the boys after all. You can see that Ben can't quite verbalize it but it devastates him that they lost what would have been their child and a chance at a family if she hadn't been taken (wonder how that'll happen since she's pretty PO'd at him right now 🤔😂😉). These babies feel deeply for one another so yeah, expect some big emotions as secrets come out.

I loved that you said "yearn" as that was the catalyst for this story. I wanted a Soldier Boy that yearns for someone. A love so strong even Soldier Boy's defensive mechanisms and bravado won't be a match for the love Ben has for this reader. The dichotomy of Soldier Boy vs Ben is a huuuuge plot point of this story and we will get to explore that more and more as we go!

You think you hate Soldier Boy's father now? Oh, innocent Alex. We haven't scratched the surface of how abhorrent Griffin is. He very well may be the most truly (and realistically) evil character I've written! 😈

The reader's anger is 100% justified (and y'all don't even know what Ben did to earn that anger yet because it's more than just obeying daddy). Buuuut Ben doesn't want her to marry Rodger so...let's just say you will NOT guess in a million years which way this is going to go 😱

I can't wait to share more next week and shock everyone! It's going to get real juicy around here! 💚👀

[pagesfromthevoid]

Sad, Tragic, Beautiful Masterlist

Helmut Zemo x Stark!reader

And for the first time in years, she feels it —the absolute, undeniable truth: He was hers, all along. And she…she has never stopped being his.

The Very First Night

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Epilogue

[castielscaplan]

Hazelnut Love Masterlist

Summary: You thought you were careful—disguised contact names, late-night calls, subtle smiles. But secrets don’t last long in the Avengers compound, and your relationship with Helmut Zemo is no exception.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, betrayal, Secrets,Love Confessions, Protective Zemo, Angry Bucky, Angry Natasha

WC: 20.3K

Read on ao3!

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Final Chapter]

[acreativelydifferentlove]

Carry On

Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Status: Complete

Summary: you’re an Omega in a small rural town. When your father’s gambling and drinking leaves him with a debt he can’t afford to pay, he offers you to a group of Alphas. Dean Winchester is an Alpha desperately trying to escape his past and pain. Can you save each other?

Part 1     

Part 2     

Part 3     

Part 4     

Part 5    

Part 6     

Part 7    

Part 8     

Part 9     

Part 10     

Part 11     

Part 12     

Part 13    

Part 14    

Part 15     

Part 16     

Part 17

Part 18 - Epilogue

[pink-sparkly-witch]

The One That Got Away - Masterlist

Summary: Childhood sweethearts, Dean and Y/N, are very much in love with each other. When she accepts a full scholarship to an out-of-state college, she finally gets to leave behind her traumatic childhood and abusive father, but it means leaving Dean behind too.

Over a decade later, Y/N returns to Lawrence, Kansas, and finally tries to heal the only wounds she has left… the psychological and emotional scars her father gave her and the heartbreak she endured by Dean Winchester, the one that got away.

Series Trigger Warnings: tw: house fire, tw: child abuse, tw: physical abuse, tw: verbal abuse, tw: slut shaming, tw: mentions of underage sex (when Dean and reader are 16/17), tw: house fire, tw: alcoholism, tw: death of a parent, tw: seriously injured child, tw: mentions of fire, tw: minor character death, tw: funeral.

Other Series Warnings: angst, heavy angst, fluff, language, flashbacks, nightmares, mentions of casual sex, mentions of therapy, self-loathing, description of injuries, flirting, arguments,  nerves, heart-to-heart, first date, insecurities, self-doubt, kissing, smut, oral sex (m and f rec), fingering, p in v.

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Series Word Count: 33.1k

A/N: Please heed all warnings! This story contains flashbacks and mentions of the physical and verbal abuse of a child. If this is a sensitive subject for you or you might be triggered by this content, please consider whether this story is right for you.

 My Masterlist AO3    Ko-Fi

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Timestamp: Adopting Miracle

[zepskies]

☪︎ FATED || Series Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Beau Arlen x Omega!Reader

Summary: When Beau had the bright idea of going undercover to observe a pair of questionable Alphas at a casino, he never expected to meet you, caught in the crossfire of an Omega human trafficking ring.

Based on this @jacklesversebingo prompt: “If I win this fight, your Omegas are mine.”

Author's Note: Ready for some more of our angsty, lovable sheriff — with an Alpha twist?

Series Tags & Warnings: (18+) | Omegaverse, angst, kidnapping, references to human trafficking and non-con (non-graphic, but read with caution), and death. But also the road to healing, recovery, emotional support, hurt/comfort, romance, protective Beau, love triangle, A/B/O dynamics, true mates, and smut | + other chapter-specific tags 

🎵 Playlist Poster ⟢ coming soon!

▶️ YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist ⟢ coming soon!

⏾˚ Chapters:

𖤓 Part 1: Sting ⤷ Patreon posting: March 20 || Tumblr posting: April 5

𖤓 Part 2: Magnetism ⤷ Patreon posting: March 27 || Tumblr posting: April 12

𖤓 Part 3: Trust ⤷ Patreon posting: April 3 || Tumblr posting: April 19

𖤓 Part 4: Catharsis

𖤓 Part 5: Truth

𖤓 Part 6: Heat

𖤓 Part 7: Belonging

𖤓 Part 8: Conviction

Series coming soon in April!

⏾˚ Tag List Form || Fic Library Blog ⟢ (you can follow and turn on notifications)

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Beau Arlen Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Beau Arlen Tag List:

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[luci-in-trenchcoats]

ALPHA BEAU ALPHA BEAU ALPHA BEAU 🧡

UNDERCOVER? ANGST TO THE MAX? YYYAAAAAAASSSSS 🥳🥳🥳

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

This Evergreen Love Masterlist

Summary: Dean is a single father to his five year old daughter, Gracie, going through the motions until one day he asks her teacher on a date to appease his daughter. As Dean navigates the dating world again and tries to protect himself and his daughter from getting too attached, he learns that maybe he’s not too far gone after all…

A spin off of World’s Best Dad, enjoy the series all over again from Dean’s perspective!

Pairing: single parent!Dean x kindergarten teacher!reader

Word Count: 12.5K so far (individual counts listed in parts)

Warnings: language

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6 (coming ???)

A/N: This series is written in Dean’s POV and follows the same general plot & timeline of World’s Best Dad. It will be worked on and off so there will be no consistent schedule. This may turn into the full ten parts World’s Best Dad was but we’ll take it as it goes for now. <3

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

All Too Well Masterlist

Summary: When the reader is released from captivity by Homelander, she's reunited with a familiar face. Soldier Boy. Her childhood friend. Her true love. The loss of her life. The man she was taken from in 1957. Sixty eight years later and Soldier Boy is baffled not only by her being alive but her young age and apparent powers. Old memories resurface as the pair try to navigate what truly happened all those years ago. New fears emerge as they come to terms with who they now are in a frightening modern world. All the while, Homelander poses a looming threat to not only the two of them but the entire world. Hard truths must be faced. Lines must be drawn. Two fated souls must make an impossible choice. Run or fight. Monster or anti-hero. Soldier Boy or Ben. Alone or together, once and for all...

Pairing: Soldier Boy x reader

Word Count: ~80K

Warnings: spoilers through S4, language, violence, smut, captivity, mention of torture/miscarriage/parental abuse, supes vs. humans, death, illness, adultery, threats of violence against a child, attempted murder/murder, vigilantism, mention of drug use/drinking/WW2 violence and more

A/N: It's finally here! I am so excited to finally be sharing this one! This is something completely different for me to tackle a romance of this size that takes place in two different decades. There's a lot of surprises to come and mystery to unfold as we go on this journey. I really hope you guys have as much fun with this one as I have writing it!

Part 1 - March 22

Part 2 - March 29

Part 3 - TBD

Part 4 - TBD

Part 5 - TBD

Part 6 - TBD

Part 7 - TBD

Part 8 - TBD

Part 9 -TBD

Part 10 - TBD

Part 11 - TBD

A/N: There will be NO TAG LIST for this series! If you want to make sure you don't miss new parts, check out the posting dates below or make sure to follow @luci-in-trenchcoats-reads and turn on notifications to get only fic alerts!

[chihoshisai]

Double Arrangement

Sabo x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

cw : royalty au, strangers to lovers, arranged engagement, reader is royalty, sabo is a noble engaged to reader but upholding his anti-nobility views so you can imagine the juicy angsty clash, though he will warm up // wc : 4.278 words // a/n : I suck at time management, expect longer delays between chapters as I now dance over 20 hours per week on top of school, finding time to write is hard but I promise to always update !

If you wish to be added to the taglist please comment, it's easier for me to know that way !

tags : @ozzities @manachiichan @stuckinmymind22 @unwillingstars @kitsunechan707 @berrybrainz @thekatisspooky @willamwrites @julieisafreakforfanfiction @minicrumbs @chocolateshortcakesblog @sweet-cuddlebug @deltamoon666

Part 11

The novelty of the previous day had settled already. You realized as much under the lukewarm gaze Sabo offered beside his family. Standing at your home’s entrance, grins on display, the quartet displayed their most amiable — yet still stingy — behavior. 

It had already come as a surprise earlier during breakfast when your mother announced she had, without consulting you, invited the family over and that she wanted each of her children present for some quality time regardless of schedules. Groans had echoed across the table, cutlery even rudely clashing against plates in displeasure. And even you gave an annoyed sigh of protest at having to see your fiance yet again for three days in a row. None knew how demanding time spent with him was — how easily it was for a regular atmosphere to go south.  

“Are you not happy you get to see your fiance so often, dear?” Your mother had said under a coercive tone.

“Yes mama,” you had grumbled under a forced smile, ignoring the daggers your younger siblings shot at you. 

Now with artificial enthusiasm, you found yourself standing beside your siblings in the castle’s lobby cordially inviting someone you partially loathed and respected, his parents who repulsed you by their impertinence and a younger brother you had yet to meet but surely shouldn’t have fallen far from the lousy three. 

“Welcome,” your mother greeted under a pleasant voice. “Thank you very much for accepting our invitation,” she went and took Didit’s hands in hers, both women appearing visibly pleased. 

Ignoring the cordial banter of adults, you focused your attention on Sabo — animosity was long gone, having been replaced with calmness as his eyes met yours. A complice smile was even offered, prompting you to give a questioning one in return. Was your presence in modest royal garments enough to dissipate his disdain towards the place he currently found himself in? Red carpets, expensive wallpapers and even chandeliers crowned the castle’s lobby. Sabo should be stiffening in anger and yet. 

He approached nonchalantly, greeting the watchful eyes of your younger siblings under a polite nod to envelop your right hand in his, lowering his back almost too naturally to offer a light pressure of his lips against your skin. Leaving behind nothing but the increasing moisturizing sensation of your palm in his.  

“It’s good to see you again,” he whispered almost too loudly, his round eyes refusing to let go of yours. 

“Oh my,” your sister had opened her fan for wind while her twin grimaced.

Before you could give your own polite reply under an unimpressed composure, the clamor of Didit went to take over the scene. 

“Would you look at that, they seem to have gotten closer following their engagement ring shopping,” she laughed vigorously, self-satisfied. It was irritating to the ears.

Sabo raised himself, tight in his hold of your hand despite your attempts to slip it away. 

“I myself am waiting with eagerness for the arrival of the ring,” your mother expressed.

You gave Sabo a knowing look — they will be disappointed and there was no telling on whom the thundering blame from mothers would fall. Sabo gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, appearing reliable. 

“Shall we all head to our main entertainment of the day then?” Your mother stated under that subtle direct tone of hers. Upon hearing no protest she led the way. “The King will be late in joining us as he has matters to tend to,” she clarified. Of course, he of all people could scarcely escape your mother’s plans without repercussions.

Closing the queue of fluttering gowns and knee length tailcoats headed for the garden, your hold had migrated to its usual nest on Sabo’s arm.

“Have you a habit of hiding the existence of your brothers from me?” you whispered low enough to pique Sabo’s interest. Named Selly, the young boy seemed to have found interest in loudly charming your sister. 

Rather than appearing playful at the tease, Sabo expressed a mixture of displeasure and disgust. “This one I wish you never found the existence of,” he admitted.

“Quite the family issues you’ve got hidden,” you smirked. At least the disdain towards similar individuals was mutual.

“Like many of us. Although they say the family you choose is better.” 

“Dare I assume to hold the possibility of being chosen someday?” you tightened your hold, slowing down the walking pace.

Blond curls tilted in your direction along with the unreadable eyes of Sabo. “The future remains uncertain. But I can assure you, I’ve chosen to believe in second chances,” he pressed his free hand atop your palm, providing warmth to spread across your body.

You further pushed for truth and specific answers. “Oh? And what does that entail?” 

Sabo mused. “Various options.” 

“Well,” you slowed your pace even more. “Since we are talking options, I shall give you one.” 

“I’ll add it to the list,” Sabo nonchalantly commented, frustrating you in silence.

“No. You won’t contemplate it,” you halted your march, pressuring his arm to do suit. Keeping a firm grip so as to prevent his running away you stood unwavering in front of him. “Regarding our engagement, we are now at week two. I recall whatever business of yours you had to sort out was to lead to our falling out either this week or in the following three.” 

The air around Sabo grew serious. “What is your point?”  

“I request an extension,” with certainty the words were spoken. Seeing as Sabo was about to protest, you raised your free hand to cut him. “I do not care what business you need taken care of nor what trouble awaits you if you are still engaged in five week’s time. It is of no importance to me neither do I wish to know.”

A displeased frown appeared in his eyes as did creased eyebrows. Yet he graced you with further silence, allowing you to continue. 

“Yesterday you vouched for me that I would bring forward the Noblesse Oblige plan, did you not?” Sabo nodded with gravity under your matter-of-factly spoken words. “Would you not hate to lose credibility, let alone trust, in front of those who depend on you so much as the guild’s number two?” 

Sabo’s jaw clenched.

“You’re blackmailing me?” His tone was low in fury.

“One year.” Casually, you went on to tightly readjust the tie that loosely hung on his neck. “Enough time to witness the prowess or the failure of Noblesse Oblige, ensure your perpetuated reliability within your guild and the safety from our engagement for me.” 

Sabo met your acute gaze, sustaining it to see if you would falter. “A fair enough proposition that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at the shift in power dynamics. Long gone were the days where you begged for a change of his heart, to have him explain himself to you, devouring the tiniest breadcrumbs. Cards had been dealt to you upon your recent frequentations together and you had now played them, only hopeful that the chains you had casted on him would be strong enough to change his mind as more cards would join the game. And most importantly, that Sabo wouldn’t deal cards of his own in the future.

“You drag me into your meetings against my will like prize money. Of course you can’t be the only one who has something to gain,” you raised yourself on your tip-toes, using the side of his chest as support. “We’re two at playing pretend now. But don’t worry, I won’t hurt your feelings like you did mine,” you softly delivered the last line with a haughty chin.

The act left you with a variety of anxiety, coldness and suppressed yearning all of which you weren’t ready to face. Deeper sunk your chances of ever having him willingly accept marriage now. Brazen must you appear after he had given you an apology, willing to start anew. Ungrateful you must be for spilling ink on this new page with selfish demands. Heavier grew your conscience. Hotter grew the air. 

Tighter grew the hold he had fastened on your waist, caging you in an embrace while your ankles neared trembling in this prolonged height. 

“I look forward to witnessing how you play, Your Highness.”

Anger reeled in Sabo’s eyes ; contaminating you in turn. This wasn’t about old habits resurfacing. It was something entirely new both of you had yet to navigate. Something that had made all the ear whispering, the face to face proximity and the back of the hand etiquette kisses appear foolish, innocent even. A knotted emotion that had prompted the parting of your lips, thinking a word of protest would escape which would soon allow freedom and its breathable air. But alas none creeped out.

Puzzled at your own silence you further narrowed a glaring vision at Sabo who had his lowered upon the object of your betrayal. 

You had rehearsed this in your mind all morning — tell him of the one year condition in exchange for your participation in the guild. He must have reached an open minded state following the resolution of misconceptions if he allowed you into his private quarters, into his private life. And surely he’d extend the same amount of willingness to an engagement extension. You had to sound serious for him to listen, to accept. Then both of you could go back to humoring your family’s sense of entertainment under good spirits. Sure you might have gotten closer than intended in the process, but etiquette had long since been abandoned between you both to be replaced with honesty and irking manipulation. 

Falling prey to his feelings, to his foreseen bitterness was an error on your part. 

A miscalculation that costed you the lowering of his lips towards yours. Slowly, in realization, you reverted back to that innocence, cheeks properly flushing, eyes wavering and inner thighs growing moist under your gown’s fabric upon acknowledging the evolution of circumstances. 

You could push him away, retract your neck in protest even. In order to have your dignity preserved — even if it had been challenged in the past. But in this moment you found yourself being a coward. Or perhaps swept up was a better term?

A disgusted groan halted the scene — Sabo inches away from breaking morality. “For pity’s sake, don’t start eating each other’s mouth and join us,” you both turned to witness your younger brother standing in the yard with crossed arms. “Says mama. These are her words.”

A lucky streak that it was your most depraved sibling who had come upon you both. Unimaginable would be the consequences otherwise.

“We are not—” You fumbled both your words and your hasty way out of Sabo’s arms. “These are not mama's words!” You exclaimed in fluster, stomping towards your sibling, leaving behind your fiance in solitude. “These words are yours for they are crude!”

Your brother shrugged and grateful did you feel that he did not make a scene out of this. “You coming, dear respectable guest?” He asked under a knowing sneer.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Sabo strolled towards the garden, loosening his tie as he kept a watchful eye on your dissipating crimson.

“Do keep the innuendos in check would you?” Your sibling complained aloud as he led the way, silence thickening the atmosphere.

------------

The garden had been arranged so that tents were mounted, creating comfortable shadows from the spark of the sun. An assemblage of plump, plush looking armchairs and matching sofas had been laid about in a half moon manner, small tables separating each with drinks and small bites of food available to satiate any craving. In addition to the purple wisteria tree falling overhead, more flowers in ceramic vases had been arranged as yet an endless distraction for the eyes. On one end, your sister had found herself enraptured in Selly’s sly attention, appearing as polite as she could under the unwanted care following her twin’s venture, until she beamed, personally going to fetch him upon his arrival. The other extremity housed your mother who seemed pleasant to discuss frivolities with Didit while her husband already drowned his stomach in wine. 

In front were settled musicians on wooden chairs — dressed in all black, piano, cello, violin, harp, oboe, flutes and many more at the ready, their nerves stirred while they waited for their cue to start playing. Allegedly, those were newfound talents of the era coming from overseas. And your mother had graciously necessitated their presence at the palace first before they integrated the local theaters for their continental tour at the noble’s town. 

"Inseperable already aren't they?” Outlook with a satisfied grin glanced upon your returning figures, leaving everyone to stare with curious eyes. 

Your mother hummed in favor, "and only after a day together, I find that quite favorable.”

Sheepish, you settled down the two place sofa which had been purposefully left empty. Sabo repeated a similar motion while you positioned your palms together atop your skirt following its neat smoothing.  

Didit took a pastry, "perhaps we shall expect a wedding soon.” She grinned as her teeth dug themselves in the delicate mixture. 

You glanced at Sabo, expecting obvious displeasure but saw him reflecting a neutral composure. Odd. But inherently an upgrade from his visible disdain upon the first meeting two weeks ago.  

"And rush through steps?” Sabo inquired towards his mother. “A year is an adequate amount of time to remain engaged while growing familiar with each other is it not?"

Clearly he had upgraded his efforts.

"A year?" Didit gasped, clearing her throat of mischievous crumbs. "Why bother with such a long delay?” She almost appeared intimidating. If not for the royal family present, threatening might have been the wiser word. Your heart grieved for Sabo’s poor family dynamics. 

"Because we still have so much to take into consideration,” Sabo shifted his knees towards yours, voice devoid of emotions. “In fact we were thinking of establishing ourselves in the countryside,” he placed his palm atop your hands, smiling as a candid suitor would have it.

He had never willingly spoken about procedures following marriage. Sensing no malice nor annoyance you gave him an earnest look. It was a step forward. Although he could lose the over the top smiling, especially when his eyes didn't follow. Touches were a welcomed bonus, but you would never admit to it aloud. 

"Why under heaven's eyes would you go to such a drab place,” Outlook had found enough discontentment to dispatch himself from his drink and offer his thoughts. 

"With nothing but greens and trees to keep you company at that too,” Selly had added under a mocking tone.  

"There'll be no entertainment!" Didit seemed on the verge of despair as though she was the one experiencing that reality.

Pressuring his hand over yours, Sabo’s face grew in obvious graveness. "Why such displeasure? We do find that there is much opportunity to be discovered amongst nature. Is marrying simply not enough for you both?” The coldness of his voice had muted his parents but chilled the atmosphere as well. 

"Opportunities? Like getting to be acquainted with their ducks?" your little brother offered in light spirits, chuckling in a way that dissipated the atmosphere. Despite his many flaws, you loved him for that while watching the tension dissipate from everyone’s face.

Hence you supported him in his endeavor with a teasing tone. "I'll be sure to send one your way to keep as a pet.”

"Well," the Queen Dowager smiled, "the countryside has its charm. And seeing as we have an estate there, perhaps it'll find more use for our family if you both take it as residence." She turned to face her guests. "Of course you two are welcome to join us during our stays.”

Your brother pondered aloud. "When's the last time we've been there actually?” 

It had indeed been quite a few years.

Though your mother dared not reveal such delicate information. "Perhaps it is time to dust off the place? Give you children a taste of the countryside," she hawked your eyes for no sign of disapproving.  

Your sister, enticed by this change of scenery talk, clasped her hands together in excitement. "What are you thinking mama?”

She mused for a fraction of second. "A ball may very well be what kicks off the renewal of our house.”

The tell tale solution to every problem.

You heard Sabo murmur an 'of course' under his breath, palms growing lighter over yours.

"Maybe mama,” you intervened before more ideas on the matter would be exchanged. “We could consider a soirée. Make it more private with less guests and more entertainment,” you glanced at Sabo, making sure he wasn't growing any more bitter at the idea. “We don't want people thinking we've grown tired of the city.” 

"Mmh yes," she nodded. "A selected few from the city along with the wealthy of the countryside,” her eyes took on that luster signifying she already began visualizing the scene. “We don't want to have them feel left behind more than they already are.” 

"Perhaps I could help with the preparations?" You asked, knowing where her imagination was headed. 

"And neglect being courted?" She scoffed in ridicule. "Dear child, no. You'll have plenty of time to organize such events once you become lady of your house.”

"Of course." 

You smiled in defeat. Acknowledging of your efforts however, Sabo went on to give your palm a squeeze, grateful of your attempt. Looking up to witness the accompaniment of such a gesture, you took in a resigned look on his part — he shook his head with blank eyes, mouth thin yet still upwards while gazing on you. 

Even the most stubborn man you knew wasn't foolish enough to encourage a fight with the Queen Dowager.

“Have I missed the spectacle already?" The king had appeared, a handsome smile featured on him. One he would give as he enticed favorable impressions of him from others. 

“Not at all son," your mother smiled, extending an arm towards the remaining armchair. “We've all been waiting for you, the musicians included.” 

Everyone glanced as the artists had all stood up at his arrival and kept a polite curtsey. Without regards of acknowledgement, the king sat in his designated seat, sparing you and the other members of his family frank smiles, keeping protocol head nods for your fiance's. 

“I won't keep everyone waiting any longer then," he made a gesture for the musicians to ready themselves. “Do bless us all with the said symphony that had granted you such continental praise along with an audience to our royal estate." 

Delicate notes were given life out of every instrument, each aiming to forge a path through the audience’s heart, soul and spirit. If emotions were felt, if lips were stretched, eyelids closed or body parts swaying with accurate tempo, then the goal was considered achieved. Everyone took in the connection between artist and instrument — feuds and arguments were forgotten, pleasantries ceased to be exchanged and even your fiance, whom you furtively glanced at, seemed to have found momentary contentment.  

“I declare this to have been worthwhile entertainment,” the King affirmed upon the last symphony taking flight.

“Indeed it was,” advanced Sabo.

Satisfied smiles and hushed opinions were exchanged as hands clapped away the artistry of each musician who politely bowed before preparing their departure. 

Getting closer to quickly whisper in Sabo’s space, you snickered at your own tease “Looks like we’ve finally found something else you enjoy other than what was it? The universal pleasure of dancing.”

Your harmless chuckling had enticed a subtle grin from your fiance and the attention of Didit. 

“Here’s the thing with universal pleasures. They tend to be harmless and made to be enjoyed by everyone,” Sabo bent his neck to your height, whispering in turn without an ounce of annoyance. “The only thing that matters is having good company.” 

Before your reply made itself known, Didit must have felt the urge to be in control of the conversation.  

“Your highness, my son has a great love for music,” she looked at your quizzical expression with conviction before addressing your mother and brother. “He has in fact been taught to play the pianoforte and violin.” 

Now the moment was ruined.

‘Perhaps we might add artist to your long list of universal yet noble inclined interests,’ were words for Sabo you suppressed down your throat under a stiff nod towards Didit.

“I couldn’t have worded it better myself. Thank you mother,” Sabo dryly expressed.

“Then do us the honor of playing, won’t you?”   

Everyone first looked at the Queen Dowager for having expressed the idea and lastly towards Sabo. Pressure dawned on him, cold sweat ran down Didit’s face while Outlook stroked his chin with distress, yet the man in question remained glued by your side.

“It will only ruin what has been a fine afternoon. I’m afraid I can’t be the bearer of such a tragic fate.” 

You grasped his hand in yours ; appearing enthusiastic in the eyes of others while relishing in this newfound information. “Do humor us.” 

“He’s never played for an audience before,” Didit nervously laughed. “We’re not here to showcase our talents are we?” 

Clearly the tale had been polished beyond its truth. Sabo’s grip in yours felt faint and he refused to meet your eyes. Disappointed in the turn of events, you released him, abandoning all thoughts of what most likely would have been a pleasant characteristic to witness. Noble born Sabo was a mystery which proved harder to unveil than his commoner counterpart.  

“We shall hold a talent show at another time.” The King rose from his chair, putting not only an end to the conversation but at these superficial interactions as well. “I have actually been meaning to show Sabo my library. I trust there is common ground for interest to be found while getting acquainted.” 

“Am I to understand you’ll deprive him of your sister’s presence?” Your mother warned. 

Your brother offered you his hand, pulling you up from your sitting position. “She may come, seeing as she is needed there.” He finished with a knowing look at your mother. He was no fool to play against cupid herself.

Sabo stood up, readjusting his coat. “I am much obliged, Your Majesty.” 

“I will be joining you both momentarily for I must make a stop elsewhere first. Therefore your betrothed shall serve as your guide.”

Giving your hand which he held, your brother offered it to Sabo amiably. Good mannered curtseys were exchanged and with a natural hold of Sabo’s arm you both headed for the castle. 

Each wing of the palace had its own aesthetic — from lively outdoorsy touches with plants, flowers, greens and browns, somber ones with thick curtains and chandeliers providing light to art displayed areas ; painting, sculptures, pottery and even simplistic ones harboring large windows with well positioned furniture. Staff members were found working on your path, all of whom offering polite bows before resuming their assigned duty. Nothing could be heard but soft cushioned footsteps on carpets and the occasional hushed gossip of nearby personnel.

“Does your family really have a need for all of this?” Sabo’s tone was reproachful while he surveyed, or rather analyzed, each nook and cranny.

“Do not start,” you squeezed his arm. “We had a lovely afternoon where I clearly saw you enjoying yourself, now please let us not ruin it with unnecessary talk.”

“Then would talking about what happened earlier be considered a necessary talk?” 

Your eyes wandered around while your heartbeat quickened. “Whatever could you possibly mean?”

“You know, when you.” He cleared his throat. “When we got too close.”

“I recall no such memory.”

A pause occurred in which you glanced at Sabo ; he humored your feigned ignorance by giving a smirk.

“Right, my mistake then.”

Heat flushed your ears at having found yourself a coward once again. 

Curled lips persisted on Sabo. “Then what reasons do you have to pretend like I do? Especially in front of your family. Perhaps I pushed your buttons far enough to make you dislike me, but what makes you so desperate to blackmail me into staying, let alone put yourself through all this turmoil?”

Your brief musing about Germa brought your eyes towards the row of windows illuminating your path, admiring the detail oriented gardening done to each bush. “We’ll appear more convincing if we’re two playing this game.”

In your opinion, the only real relationship you could hope to build had to be done without all this gilded setting. Or at least without noble company. This, you were convinced, was what Sabo preferred as well.  

“You haven’t answered my second question.”

Your eyes found his briefly, curiosity well hidden behind his blond curls. “For the same reason you so obediently agreed to stay under my terms.”

A scoff pursed Sabo’s lip. “Now you’re the one withholding information.”

“Trust isn’t rebuilt overnight,” you scorned under a tight grip.

“I’m aware I lost my chance at honesty, neither will I hold this against you. It’s an answer I’ll accept for now.”

You sighed, dragging him further into the inner corners of your home. “Instead of my honesty, care to explain what we just heard about you playing two instruments?”

Perhaps the question was in poor taste, for Sabo couldn't help but take on an aggravated air, eyes wandering along the decorated walls. “I’m no musician. I was taught the basics, nothing more, nothing less.”

“A shame,” you replied, dropping the subject upon witnessing his disinterested shrug to follow along the journey in grave silence. 

----------------

Part 12 already written, simply need revision

[heldbybarnes]

Hiii it’s 🍇 again

I hope you are having a fantastic week!

A thought came to me and I would like to share it with you. It’s angsty but with happy ending (depends on how you weave your story really)

How about an AU where Bucky married reader for convenience? Probably a mafia AU or a Bucky CEO AU! Every one whispers that Bucky married her to show his ex that he could do better and reader happened to come from thay powerful family that can be added to his resources. He slowly falls in love when reader got pregnant but she had already accepted the fact that her place in Bucky’s life was arranged. She won’t ask for anything other than what Bucky gives her and she thinks that he is such a good husband because, like her, he knows his role well. She avoids anything that would compare her to his ex but people finds anything to fault her with and she gracefully ignores them and simply do her best to aid Bucky.

I’m a sucker for one-sided but not actually one-sided love stories. And those she fell hard but he fell harder stories.

Thank you! Hope fantastic days awaits you!

The headlines had called it a strategic union.

James Buchanan Barnes, CEO darling of the financial world, married into old money only six months after his very public breakup with his longtime girlfriend. The whispers followed you everywhere—at galas, in boardrooms adjacent to the ones you were never meant to sit in, even in the careful smiles of people who kissed your cheek and congratulated you through clenched teeth.

He married her to prove he could do better. She was convenient. Powerful family. Clean reputation. Pretty enough not to embarrass him.

You learned early on that correcting them wouldn’t change a thing.

So you didn’t.

You learned your role the same way you learned everything else in your life—by observing, adapting, and never asking for more than was offered. You learned when to walk half a step behind Bucky, when to reach for his hand so cameras caught it just right, when to excuse yourself so he could talk business uninterrupted.

You were good at it. Too good.

Bucky was good too. Impeccably so.

He never raised his voice. Never humiliated you. He remembered your preferences—how you took your coffee, which charities mattered to you, the way you liked quiet evenings instead of loud parties. He made sure your schedule was protected, that staff treated you with respect, that you never wanted for anything materially.

He played the role of husband flawlessly.

And so you told yourself that was all it was.

When you found out you were pregnant, you didn’t cry. You sat on the edge of the marble bathtub, the test resting on the counter like a sealed verdict, and breathed through it. Children happened in marriages like this—heirs, legacies, proof of stability. You knew that. You had always known.

When you told Bucky, he froze.

Just for a second. Just long enough for you to catalog it away as something you weren’t meant to touch.

Then he nodded, slow and deliberate. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll take care of everything.”

We. Not I love you. Not how do you feel. Just we’ll take care of it.

And you smiled, because that was what you did best.

Pregnancy softened you in ways you hadn’t expected. You tired more easily. You stopped attending certain events, let yourself be absent without guilt. People noticed, of course. They always noticed.

They commented on your clothes, your posture, your lack of sparkle. Compared you—quietly or not—to her. The ex who had been sharp and dazzling and never seemed to fade under scrutiny.

You never rose to it.

You attended what mattered. You supported Bucky. You built a nursery in muted tones, never assuming he’d want to be involved, quietly grateful when he lingered in the doorway longer than necessary.

And Bucky… changed.

At first it was small things. He stopped scheduling late meetings on nights you felt unwell. He learned the sound of your breathing when you couldn’t sleep and started waking too. He brought you water without being asked, his hand resting briefly—carefully—on your lower back, as if touching you was a privilege he hadn’t earned yet.

He started looking at you like you were real.

Like you weren’t an arrangement.

You noticed the change, but you never reached for it. You had learned the danger of hoping for more than what was offered.

So when Bucky finally broke, it startled both of you.

It happened after a charity dinner, one where someone had laughed too loudly and said, “Well, at least James upgraded.” You had smiled, gracious as ever, even as something hollowed out behind your ribs.

Later that night, you stood at the window of the penthouse, city lights blurring through unshed tears. You didn’t hear him approach.

“I didn’t marry you for her.”

His voice was rough. Strained. Nothing like the smooth executive tone he wore like armor.

You didn’t turn around. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“I do,” he said. “Because I think I’m losing my mind.”

That got you. Slowly, you faced him.

“I thought I knew what this was,” Bucky continued. “I thought I understood the rules. But somewhere along the way, you stopped being convenient and started being… everything.”

You said nothing. You were afraid if you spoke, the careful balance you’d built would collapse.

“I wake up thinking about you,” he admitted. “I worry when you don’t eat enough. I imagine holding our child and I—” His voice broke. “I don’t know when I fell. I just know it was hard. And it was deep. And it scares the hell out of me.”

Silence stretched between you, fragile and trembling.

“You don’t have to feel obligated,” you whispered finally. “I never expected—”

Bucky crossed the room in three strides and dropped to his knees in front of you, hands trembling as he cupped your face. “I’m not obligated,” he said fiercely. “I’m in love with you.”

You cried then. Quietly. Finally. Years of restraint cracking open as he pressed his forehead to yours, holding you like something precious, something chosen.

“I fell harder,” he murmured. “You just fell first.”

And for the first time since the headlines, since the whispers, since the arrangement—you let yourself believe that love didn’t have to be earned by silence.

Sometimes, it was given freely.

Sometimes, it was chosen.

And sometimes, it was worth the wait.

[jtargaryen18]

The Arrangement Masterlist

Pairing: Tommy Shelby (Peaky Blinders) x Reader F

Your stepfather made an ill-advised wager with Arthur Shelby and when he lost the coin toss, you were are to be given to Arthur for the night. And you will be taken tonight. Just not by Arthur…

The next day, after claiming you himself, Tommy doesn't return you to your home in Small Heath to face the consequences of actions that weren't yours. He tells you he's keeping you hidden, to send a message to those in Small Heath who think that when you gamble with the Peaky Blinders, you don’t walk away unscathed.

Is that his only motive? Or could it be that he doesn't plan to let you go... ever?

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 (The End)

[jtargaryen18]

The Arrangement Masterlist

Pairing: Tommy Shelby (Peaky Blinders) x Reader F

Your stepfather made an ill-advised wager with Arthur Shelby and when he lost the coin toss, you were are to be given to Arthur for the night. And you will be taken tonight. Just not by Arthur…

The next day, after claiming you himself, Tommy doesn't return you to your home in Small Heath to face the consequences of actions that weren't yours. He tells you he's keeping you hidden, to send a message to those in Small Heath who think that when you gamble with the Peaky Blinders, you don’t walk away unscathed.

Is that his only motive? Or could it be that he doesn't plan to let you go... ever?

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21

[jtargaryen18]

Just wanted to say THANK YOU to everyone who gave this fic a try. The masterlist is dangerously close to having 1k notes and the first chapter (which I started out thinking was going to be a one-shot) is getting close too. It means the world to me because it was my first go in a different fandom. It was way more than I expected. Thank you! 🖤🖤🖤

[atwistoffate]

Cupid's Curse - Prologue

Dean x Reader Word Count: 528

Do you believe in true love?

Cupids do.

They have to. Their jobs, their entire existence, revolves around it. True love, ancient and unbreakable, born when two perfect halves collide at exactly the right moment. A force older than time, older than Heaven itself.

At the beginning of every shift, Cupids receive a list. Names neatly paired, souls already aligned by something far above their pay grade. The fortunate ones, the inevitable ones. Then, arrows sharpened with intent, they descend, nudge fate along, and watch history click into place.

Cupids love love.

They were created to. It’s the only air they breathe, the only thing that sustains them. They watch first meetings from rooftops and clouds, linger during stolen glances and accidental touches. Sometimes, on quiet days, they come back years later, invisible and proud, just to see the life they helped stitch together still holding.

Every lifetime of love is a small miracle.

Every miracle is a success.

But every family has a problem child.

And Heaven has Carl.

Carl drags his feet through every shift and he hates the lists. Hates the smug certainty of them. Hates how everything is decided before the people involved even get a say.

True love, they call it.

Funny thing is, Carl’s seen what happens after the arrows hit. He’s watched people cling to each other through hell and back, yes, but he’s also seen them break. Hurt. Lose pieces of themselves trying to live up to a bond they didn’t ask for but can’t escape.

No one ever talks about that part.

And he hates it. He'd quit if he could. 

But he can't.

Heaven won’t let him resign, not when love is literally hardwired into his grace.

“What about a reassignment?” he’d asked once, a few decades ago.

They had laughed.

What were they supposed to do with a rogue Cupid anyway? Deliver mail to the higher-ups? Spend eternity floating around passing out memos?

He’d sooner throw himself off the highest cloud.

So instead, he gets creative.

Every now and then, when no one’s watching too closely, when the lists feel especially smug and tidy, Carl switches things up. Just a little. Just enough to remind the universe it’s not as flawless as it pretends to be.

He swaps names.

Condemns two people who were never meant to meet, never meant to fit, to a love they can’t outrun.

Not out of cruelty.

Out of curiosity, out of boredom.

Free will, he tells himself. Chaos. A middle finger to destiny.

Today’s list flickers into existence in front of him, glowing gold against his hands.

Carl skims it once. Twice.

Then he stops.

Your name catches his eye.

He frowns.

You’re paired neatly with someone else. A clean match, balanced, meant to be. The righteous man, Dean Winchester. 

Carl exhales through his nose and rolls his shoulders, wings rustling behind him.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “No.”

He glances around, no supervisors, no watchful seraphim, and with a flick of his fingers, the list reshuffles. Your name slides. Locks into place beside another. 

“Sorry, love,” he murmurs. “Looks like today’s your lucky day.”

And then, arrows ready, he takes aim and shoots.

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Part 1 - Coming Soon

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Forever Tags: @hobby27 @foxyjwls007 @hotgirlsshareaccounts @katiejade @missyoudean @bad-wolf1991 @cranberrysauce666 @stoneyggirl2 @ladysparkles78 @jackles010378 @megara0224 @hopperbopper @magic-sprinkled-daydreams @graysluvr @thewinchesterwench @nancymcl @angrydragon90

[shblackwoodart]