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prncssguya · 6 months ago

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on hwang in-ho/front man, seong gi-hun and their dynamic.

first, idk why people are getting so upset at other people calling gi-hun dumb, we were told that in the first season. lol being bright is not his strongest trait but he has a good heart and we love that about him. however, he is still an idealistic gullible idiot with a gambling problem. except this time his gambling addiction is backed by a sense of justice and righteousness and he no longer gambles with money, he’s gambling with people’s lives. front man asked a good question at the end of the season, “did you have fun playing the hero?” can we even call gi-hun the hero of the story anymore? he gambled with people’s lives and front man showed him the consequences of his moral heroics.

front man only agreed to help gi-hun with his revolution when he mentioned about "small sacrifices for the greater good". i think he reveled in the fact that the “good guy” was willing to allow a few innocent people to die for the greater good to stop the games, which is exactly what the entire VIP theory is to rid the world of 'trash' to improve the world. notice how gi-hun's moral code and belief also changed, from being "nobody should die" into "yeah small sacrifice is okay as long it's for the greater good" at this point, he just proved that front man's belief is actually valid. AND he gets more of his own people killed in the pointless battle with the soldiers that they had no chance of winning. now he gets to feel responsible for all those deaths and the death of his friend and for whatever additional torture they cook up in the next games (as punishment for the escape attempt).

now on hwang in-ho, i believe he was once a good man and the story he told gi-hun was the truth. but in the end he lost a kidney, lost a wife, a baby, lost his money, got fucked over by the wrong people and got into serious debt and had to play this game to help his wife and probably it was too late to save her. he might have played the games like gi-hun but saw how ruthless and greedy people are and resolved that they don't deserve help

i don’t think in-ho wants/will kill gi-hun, but he wants him to understand things from his perspective and show him that his compassion for the people in the games is foolish. you can tell the frontmen (the old man and in-ho) are extremely fond of gi hun. not only did he protect their original front man when nobody else did, he then won the games and thus their respect as he is now as rich as them. he's no longer "trash", he’s an elite like them. i think they both actually kept tabs on him after he won (i wonder if they do that for all winners? inserting them with gps chips?) because they knew he had not used his reward money and in-ho wanted gi-hun to get on the plane and be happy with his daughter

there’s one interesting aspect of the games that makes front man such a complex character. the fact that they’re operating a organ transplant trafficking network. in a way, he’s creating some good to come from a really fucked up situation. but is it really for the good of others who desperately need it, people like his wife, like his brother? or is it just a money making scheme?

either way, i don’t think there is going to be a redemption arc for in-ho, he’s too far gone. we may get to see more of his human side if he manages to see jun-ho again. the only time we’ve seen genuine emotions from him was when he shot his brother like he seemed distraught

the real cliffhanger for me, is will gi-hun stay true to his belief that people can be good, or will he be forever changed into a villain and become the next front man…? after the events of this season i don’t see how his will doesn’t shatter. he’s witnessed how humanity consistently chose money over survival, he’s lost two close friends, his mother, abandoned his daughter. he has gained nothing from wanting to stop the games and this clearly feels like an origin story for the next front man. it’s clear the front man has won this round and i think squid game will either die with 001 or continue with gi-hun as game master

another thing i find funny that i don’t see many mention is how gi-hun is like the luckiest guy in the fucking world. but i don’t think him being alive this long is plot armor, it makes sense. the games exist for the entertainment of rich sadists who have so much money they don't know what to do with it (remember what old 001 said in s1 about life being no fun for both people with no money and people with too much money). and i’d imagine killing hundreds of poor debt-ridden fools year after year gets boring. especially when said fools are desperate enough to gamble with their lives because they think they can beat the system by playing better than everyone else and surviving and getting the money.

gihun is different because he got the money, got out, and still came back. not because he's unfeeling or because he wants more money, but because he's still convinced he can beat the system.

if you're a rich bored gazillionaire, would you rather watch some randos die or would you rather watch this exceptional idiot fail again and again until he learns that his ideals are meaningless and people are inherently greedy and equality is a myth and people at the bottom of the barrel don't get to question the system?

if you're an asshole gazillionaire, you don't want someone to challenge you and just get away with it. you want to hand them 45.6 billion won and make them go away quietly, traumatized, after breaking them psychologically by making them do horrible things until they understand they're just powerless "horses". if they insist on challenging you and your system and your beliefs (money = boundless power), you teach them a lesson and show them their place in the most manipulative and cruel way possible. if gihun dies right away, that's boring. so he can't die, he needs to suffer. he needs to concede defeat.

also, i find it funny how people are comparing hwang inho and gihun dynamic to hannibal and will graham. makes sense, their whole cat and mouse game, front man hiding his true nature from gi-hun the same way hannibal does, trying to corrupt the righteous protagonist, sowing chaos, testing him and observing his behavior like a lab rat, the crazy tension and staring contests, the gaslighting and manipulation. and with the fact that they think lee byung-hun looks like mads mikkelsen. i never put the two of them together but now i can’t unsee it lol

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loomingspector · 14 days ago

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Dc x Dp story prompt pt. 2

The same vein as my other post here

But what if Damian and Danny was the same age, I really love that trope too, that they’re basically twins how close in age they are, maybe just a few days, MAX a week or so.

When Damian comes back to the family, Bruce gets a whole new kind of paranoid again. He kinda stopped the whole sleeping around phase when he got the kids, since Dick (wanting to kill people) kinda took up a lot of his free time. And after that the kids just kept coming so he didn’t really get into it again.

But then Damian came into it, and he was like “wait, have I checked the DNA database the last few years??” And goes down into the cave to do a country wide DNA analysis on DNA on file, both in police/hospitals and the whole nine yards. (Cause he’s extra like that)

And then he find that in just about the same time he was SA’ed by Talia, he got really drunk at a science charity event in Amity Park, maybe to get rid of his stress of it all, and because Bruce would rather die than cope with his problems in a healthy way, and released some energy by being with the Fenton couple, who seemed sane enough (at the time).

The Fenton’s knew that Danny was Wayne’s but then decided that they kinda just wanted him themselves, and then got really into GiW and ghost hunting, and then kinda forgot to tell Wayne.

So now Bruce has to juggle with the fact that Talia hid away Damian, and the Fentons fucking forgot to tell him that they have his son.

He goes to Amity Park to find his son, who’s basically in the same situation as Tim, barely acknowledged by his parents and left to his own devices with his sister.

Bruce being Bruce goes, welp, might as well get custody of them both. Legally he should be able to when Danny confesses to the illegal machines in the basement that killed him. So the couple is deemed unfit to care for the two, then minors.

Problem is:

Danny and Jazz doesn’t really want to leave Amity Park.

Solution:

Buy a second mansion in Amity Park and make that the home they move into, with servants vetted by the Waynes, and security on par with the White House.

They can live there until they finish school, and they’re free to choose what happens after that, go to Gotham and be with the family, maybe Gotham university, or anything else.

Bruce is just happy that they’re not in the cape business like the rest of his kids…

Danny doesn’t know Bruce is Batman, so he has to be extra careful to not expose himself as a hero to them, and also not drag them into the ghost realm and ghost fighting. And also, wtf is wrong with the ectoplasm in the Jason kid?? (He a ghost too??)

But he also really likes the idea of an actually caring family, I mean, Bruce went out of his way to not uproot his life and makes sure they can choose whatever future they want, even if that doesn’t include him. Hell he even took Jazz in, who isn’t even his kid.

His new siblings seem fun, caring and like they actually care, making an effort to help him understand that being neglected by his parents isn’t his fault. Tim and him finding comradeship in both of their experiences with it. Dick is just overly protective and seems like he’s trying to genuinely get to know him. Making sure not to pressure the two new siblings too much, but also organizing siblings bonding time.

Bruce of course doesn’t know yet that Danny is a vigilante, so he has to juggle wanting to learn about these new kids, as well as hide them away from his Brucie persona, so they can live normal lives.

He’ll just ignore the way Constantine is brushing things off his shoulders every time they’re in the watchtower together, mumbling something about a ‘dark energy’ clinging to him. But he always says weird shit.

So what happens when a giant ghost fight occurs in Amity, Bruce is notified and comes to rescue his kid in full Batman gear, Danny is gone and Jazz won’t tell him where he is, cause why the fuck does Batman care.

Danny is just confused why the entire Justice league is suddenly in Amity, and why the fuck The Batman™️ is running around looking for his human form.

Identity crisis at its finest.

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loveroffemmes · 1 month ago

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Spoiled Kisses | Pre-Crash Lottie Matthews x Fem! Reader

Warnings: smut, face-sitting, bitchy! spoiled! Lottie, banter, v slight enemies to lovers?, slight degrading?, reader is kind of persuaded into it?

Summary: You don't like Lottie, she's everything you aren't; spoiled, a bit condescending, and irresistible. Everything changes when you hit her car in the school parking lot. You fuck up Lottie's car and then you fuck Lottie.

Spoiled. That's the one word I would use to describe Lottie.

It was infuriating knowing she had everything handed to her, how she never had to worry about a single thing because Mr. Matthews would always provide. I didn't have that same luxury.

That's how I knew I was fucked when I hit Lottie's car after practice.

"That's a pretty big dent." Lottie called out to me, stepping out of her car.

"I-I know." I ran my hand through my hair, I was so fucked.

Lottie smiled, acting as if this was no big deal, "My car's custom." She added, "My dad bought it for me for my last birthday." Fuck.

"Yeah, let's just exchange info and I can hope a Genie comes and grants me three wishes to pay for this."

Lottie laughs, it's light and it makes my knees weak.

It makes my knees weak?

"Come to my house, my dad has a good mechanic, you can get an estimate and pay me from there. No reason to up your insurance or anything." Some hope for my empty wallet, "I'll lead the way, (Y/n), follow my car." Lottie said, getting back into her newly dented car. I got into mine and drove behind her.

Where she led me to the massive Matthews' estate. Fuck.

She parked in her driveway and instructed me to do the same, "It'll be a few hours before we can get an estimate, do you want to wait inside?"

"Nothing better to do." I reply, following Lottie inside her house. There's a massive staircase in the middle of her house. I follow her upstairs to her bedroom. It's just as big as I would have imagined, except her decorations aren't as glamorous as the rest of the house. It's plain, but comfortable. She has team photos plastered around her room, an organized vanity, and not much else. It makes the big room feel quaint. Less snobby rich girl and more girl whose parents happen to be rich. There's also a weird amount of clothes from TJ Maxx in here...

"We never get to chat much outside of practice." Lottie says, "I always thought that was for the best, but who knows? Maybe I'm wrong."

Spoiled.

"For the best? I should be the one saying that. I could have gone all year without having to listen to perfect miss Matthews--"

"You could have if you didn't hit my car." Lottie smirks and god is it infuriating and god does it make my heart pound.

It makes my heart pound?

"Whatever, you're the one who can't park."

"So, this is my fault?" Lottie asks, her eyebrow raised, clearly amused.

"Yeah! If you actually parked inside the lines, then I wouldn't have side swept your stupid car." Lottie doesn't respond, she just keeps that dumb, hot smirk on her face.

Lottie sits down on her bed, we sit in silence for a bit as I awkwardly stand in her room, not sure of where to sit, "Are you done whining?" I feel my jaw fall open, who does she think she is? Before I could fire off an insult, Lottie starts laughing, "It's fun how worked up you get, (Y/n)."

I roll my eyes, "I'm going to wait outside." I say, heading for Lottie's bedroom door.

"Aren't you worried?" Lottie asks and I stop in my tracks.

"About?"

"How you'll pay for it all?" Lottie stands up and makes her way towards me, her tone low, "I mean, you're not very well off, are you?"

"That's my problem to figure out."

Lottie's standing in front of me now, leaning down slightly to whisper in my ear, "It doesn't have to be your problem."

"H-Huh?" I can feel the temperature rising to my ears as Lottie's breath hits it.

"You cannot be that dumb." I don't have a chance to reply before Lottie shoves me back onto her bed, I catch myself and I sit up.

Lottie climbed over me, straddling me. Her knees sank into the mattress on either side of me. Her hands moved to my shoulders as a way to keep her situated.

"What are you doing, Lottie?" My words come out airy, I don't mean to sound so unsure, but my brain can't seem to focus on anything other than how good Lottie's legs feel against my thighs or how close her face is to mine or how good her perfume smells or --

Before another thought could pop into my head, Lottie's lips were on mine. It was raw, it was desperate, it contrasted the poised Lottie I had always kind of known.

"You think too much." Lottie mumbled against my lips. Her hands ran through my hair, entangling themselves in it before pulling my head back. I groaned and I could feel Lottie smirking. I opened my eyes and saw Lottie lick her lips as if I were her prey and she had caught me. She kept my head tilted back, her hands in her hair ensured that I could not protest. Her lips found my neck, her kisses were soft at first and I could feel the wet stain of her lipstick on my neck. Then, she bit down. I groaned again, shutting my eyes. I could feel her smile against my neck. Her tongue darted out, licking the slight indentation on my neck her teeth had left.

She pulled back, her hands leaving my hair and she stood up. Before I could stop myself, I whined from the lack of contact. Lottie laughed and I felt my heart skip a beat.

She lifted her shirt over her head, throwing it to wherever. In another swift motion, she pulled her skirt down and stepped out of it.

"L-Lottie, what--"

"I'm helping you pay back your debt." She replied as if all of this was normal.

My eyes raked over her body, trying to commit every curve of hers to memory. In another second, Lottie had dropped her panties to the ground. I felt my mouth go dry. I couldn't tear my eyes away from her.

"You're staring." Lottie hummed, the smirk never leaving her face. She pushed me back onto the bed fully this time and climbed on top of me. Her tone was low, her voice barely above a whisper, "Do you know how to repay your debt?" I shook my head and Lottie laughed, her dark brown eyes locking with mine, "Have you ever eaten a girl out?" The bluntness of her question almost made me choke on nothing. She didn't need an actual answer from me because it didn't take her long before her knees were on either side of my head and she was holding herself above me. Her hands reached for the headboard in front of me and she grabbed onto it to help keep herself upright.

I wrapped my arms around her thighs, locking her into place before pulling her down closer to my face. She was soaked. I tilted my head slightly, my tongue poking out and running through her folds cautiously. Lottie instantly bucked her hips, a soft moan escaping from her lips. It was all I needed. I pulled her down even more, barely any space between my lips and her skin. I slid my tongue through her folds again, slowly. Lottie bucked her lips every time without fail, grinding against my face without another thought. One of her hands moved from the headboard to my hair, gripping it and holding my head in place as she moved her hips against my tongue. All she cared about was using me to get off.

Spoiled.

I dug my nails into her thighs, I could feel her trembling. Her breathing was ragged, her knuckles were white from how hard she was gripping the headboard, and every movement of hers was desperate. One long lick and then I took her clit into my mouth, sucking hard. Her whole body jerked and I didn't stop, I only got rougher. I wanted her to come on my tongue. I wanted to be the reason that Lottie Matthews unfolded. One last buck of her hips and I could feel her thighs clamp around my head.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." A string of curse words fell from her lips as I licked every last drop of hers.

Lottie's grip on my hair loosened and she swung one knee to the other side of me, flopping down next to me on the bed.

"Fuck..." Lottie murmured, clearly fucked out. It was my turn to smirk.

I pulled Lottie's blanket up over the both of us and pulled her against me. Lottie's arm wrapped protectively around my waist and I placed a kiss on her sweaty forehead.

Lottie's voice was quiet, worn out from how loud she was, "If only you put that much effort into practicing, we would have gone to nationals a lot easier." Anddddd Lottie's back.

"Shut up, Matthews."

"Plotting on how to hit my car again, (L/n)?" Lottie fired back and I rolled my eyes. She smirked and pulled me flush against her chest. Even though Lottie never let ups on her stupid banter, her body couldn't hide how she really felt. I could feel Lottie's heart racing when she pulled me into her. I made her nervous and that thought made me smile.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Lottie?"

"Maybe I would."

Masterlist

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navybrat817 · 6 months ago

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Hold You Tight: Part 16

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 15 | Series Masterlist | Part 17

Chapter Word Count: Over 5.4k

Chapter Summary: Bucky tries to pull you closer when you want to pull away, and someone else in your life my not take no for an answer.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, arguing, tension, slight harassment, kissing, reference to stalking, inner turmoil, manipulation, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky traded lazy kisses with you as your tears slowed, and you had no idea if it was his mouth that had your heart pounding and the crushing weight of everything that surrounded him. It was so much to unpack. Every encounter with him seemed to be that way. Something blindsided you or suffocated you, but you hadn't been at all prepared for what he just shared. And how could you? He didn't keep photos of his mother around, and you hadn't gone poking around online.

Would you have found out the truth if you had?

He followed your lips when you pulled away. “It’s okay,” he whispered, pulling you back in.

It wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. Though it partially made sense now why he was moving so fast. He believed if he met you then that you would've fallen in love and been together to this day. Because he didn't seek you out then and lost so much time, he was packing everything into a rushed time span. Dating, meeting his friends, getting you into his place. He was moving things along at an accelerated speed, and you were barely keeping up with the ride.

“No.” The muffled word against his lips somehow rang out loud and clear enough for him to stop, but you put a hand on his chest in case he tried to lean in again. “Why are you punishing me?”

His eyes rounded. “You think I’m punishing you? Jesus, why would you think that?”

“Because of how you went about all of this. I know you were desperate, and I get the drive behind some of your actions now,” you said, which you refused to excuse. You got it but couldn’t excuse it. “Your response of ‘where’s the fun in that?’ when I said you couldn’t just ask me out like a normal person? You almost seemed to delight in intimidating me. Why?”

If you saved his mom, why do this?

“I didn’t delight in that. I played it wrong,” he admitted in a quiet voice, surprising you. “I approached it like…”

“Like everything else in your life where you have everyone under your thumb through fear. You did the same thing to me.” You laughed just a little. “In a way, it worked because I’m officially afraid to try to leave you.”

Had things blossomed between you two organically, you’d like to believe that things would’ve been better. Healthy. There was always the chance that a relationship might’ve come to an end because life was like that. But if he frightened you enough to stay forever, he’d never have to worry. The stars would still align as far as he was concerned.

“I don’t want you to fear me or what we have,” he whispered, reaching for you as you scooted back.

“What we have? Tell me, do you think your mom would be proud of your actions to obtain me or ashamed?” You couldn’t believe that was the kind of man she raised, to put fear into the heart of the person he supposedly loved.

He flinched. Actually flinched. You might as well have raised a hand to him. “She…” He swallowed. “She would’ve wanted us together.”

“Like this? By you not giving me a choice?” you asked, pushing yourself up. “I need to go home.” There would be no getting through to him and this revelation was doing your head in. One cup of coffee wasn't enough either.

He got up to follow you. “Why are you rushing off?”

“I have a shift today, and I have to go home and shower,” you said, grabbing some of your things. “Don’t worry about dropping me off. I’ll get a cab.”

“What? No, you-”

“You put money in my account, so it’s not like I have to worry about paying for it. And it’s not like I’ll be alone either since you’ll have me followed whether I want it or not,” you said as a matter of fact.

“You’re putting a wall up,” he said, frowning as you grabbed your phone charger before he could. “Don’t shut me out, please.”

“I’m not shutting you out. I’m trying to process the gigantic bombshell you dropped on me,” you said, stopping to look at him when he grabbed your arm. “Bucky-”

“This has been a lot, all of it, but we can’t go back and change it, and you know I can’t let you go because we’re meant to be together,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “You feel it. I know you do.”

How many times would he say that until you agreed? “Just because you think fate stepped in-”

“Fate brought you into my club, but I gave it a much-needed push to bring us together after leaving things to chance for so long,” he said, tugging you closer and putting his other hand on your cheek. “You can’t tell me you don’t care about me in some capacity. You’re just afraid to admit it because it isn’t conventional in your eyes, but you don’t have to be afraid of how you feel.”

How could you truly fall in love with him when he orchestrated everything from the start? “Feelings or not you’re still going to force me to move in with you soon, and that scares me,” you said. Your wings would forever be clipped.

“We should’ve been living together and married by now,” he argued, keeping a tight hold on you. “I know I’m making you move in sooner than you want, but beyond safety it’ll give us a chance to really know each other before we get married.”

Talk of marriage had your heart thudding. The man would probably force you to marry him sooner than you wanted. “You said you already know everything about me,” you said. At least he thought he knew you. The vision of you he built up in his mind scared you, too. He couldn’t keep you on that pedestal.

“But you don’t fully know me yet, and I don’t know what it’s like to live with you. The experience will bring us closer together.” His smile was full of hope. “We can read together, do movie nights, dance in the kitchen.”

“Bucky-”

“We can exercise together, in and out of bed,” he continued, your breath hitching as he rubbed his nose against yours. “Don’t you already feel closer to me now that you know we're meant to be?”

A quick knock on the door followed by a long one saved you from answering. “It isn't check-out time, is it?”

“No. That would be Ray,” Bucky headed to the door and kept you back a small distance before he answered. The man really was protective, wasn't he?

“I’m sorry to intrude,” Ray said, giving you a polite nod before he leaned in and whispered something to Bucky. Whatever was said to him made his face harden. The entire change in his demeanor worried you.

“Kotyonok, let’s get your bag and get you back to your place so you can get ready for work,” he suggested, his smile tight.

“What’s the matter?” you asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” he answered, kissing your forehead. “And before we go, I know you suggested taking a cab, but please let Ray take you back to your place. It would make me feel better.”

The hint of a plea in his voice and the look in Ray’s eyes kept you from protesting. “Fine, Ray can take me home. Just give me a second to change out of these pajamas,” you said, a bit surprised that Bucky wasn’t offering to take you home himself. “But you are going to tell me later what’s going on, right?” you asked.

“I will, but I need some answers myself first. Get changed. I’ll get your bag,” he said, gently guiding you to the bathroom so you could change and officially ending that conversation.

Ray was still by the entry door once you came out, looking a bit stiffer than usual, too. You stole a glance at Bucky as the three of you headed to the elevator, catching the anger etched in his features as he gripped your bag handle tight enough that you thought it would rip. They were leaving you in the dark about something. You weren’t sure if you could take any other bombshells.

“Ray may need to pick you up from work instead of me, but I’ll message you if that’s the case,” Bucky said, fixing his hair in the elevator reflection. “And… we may need to talk about your girls’ day out.”

“What about it?” you asked, already knowing where he was going with this.

“If you can cancel or reschedule it,” he replied.

You stared hard at him. Where was that coming from? “No, it's tomorrow, and I’m not cancelling or rescheduling. And don’t you dare use Zemo as an excuse to get your way,” you snapped. Even if it was a valid reason, you didn’t want to hear it.

His jaw clenched, but he looked sad as he glanced at you. “I just don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“We talked about this. If it’s a safety issue, Ray agreed that someone could watch out for me. That should keep me safe,” you reminded him. You’d be fine. “Right, Ray?”

The blonde stared straight ahead. “That isn’t my decision,” he said apologetically.

Your shoulders slumped. For a short time, you thought he could be on your side or at least help give you some slack. “Right. Because you don't get to make decisions, and neither do I. You’re a bodyguard, I’m just a doll,” you said, looking straight ahead, too, and pulling your hand back when Bucky tried to take it. “Please, don’t.”

“Kotyonok…” Bucky sighed as the door opened. You marched out, not waiting for either of them. “Wait.”

You headed straight for the desk, feeling sadder when you didn’t see Natasha. “Checking out, please,” you said, sliding the room card over to the woman standing there.

“Of course. I hope you enjoyed your stay.” She looked behind you likely at Bucky before giving you a smile. “Ms. Romanoff also wanted to remind you that you have a place here if you need one.”

“I’m sure I’ll take her up on that soon,” you said, turning your head to glare at Bucky. While his expression was stoic, his eyes told you he didn’t want you to be upset with him. “And make sure she adds an inconvenience fee to the damaged wall bill. She’ll know what I mean.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” she smiled. “Take care.”

Bucky was hot on your heel and you didn't make it two steps out the door before he had a hand on you. “You’re upset with me. Putting up more of that wall.”

You didn't speak until Ray walked past you to get his car. “You’re trying to get me to cancel my day out with my friends, after you went through the whole charade of buying me a new dress for it and everything. And after what you told me about your mom.” You took a breath to try to calm down. “Yeah, I’m upset, and yeah, you’re supplying me with the very bricks to build that wall.”

“I said we may need to talk about it, I didn’t flat out say you weren’t going,” he corrected you. He might as well have. “I know it means a lot to you, but-”

You held a hand up. “No. There are no ‘buts’ in this. For all you keep taking from me, I don’t ask for much. I really don't,” you stated. In fact, you’ve shown lots of restraint. “Who knows how many moments I’ll get like this with my friends once you move me in.” He wasn’t about to take this small thing from you after everything.

He titled his head. “You think I’ll keep you from them?”

“Part of me thinks you will, yes. Because as soon as I think that there’s hope, the second I think that we could be closer together while you loosen the reins, you say or do something that puts me back in your full control,” you said. He had to see that. “And every time you do that, like you are right now, it makes me want to push you away.”

“And you can push all you want, but I’ll just pull you closer,” he smiled, making you huff when he actually did so. “I’m not afraid to let you burn me.”

“You keep saying that. Give me a match or a lighter and we’ll test that theory,” you said. He burst out laughing, the sound loud in the morning air as your eyes widened. “Why are you laughing?” you asked incredulously. How could he laugh when you were still worked up?

“Because even arguing with you makes me happy,” he sincerely stated. “And now all I want to do is find a way to put a smile back on your face.”

You exhaled. He was so in love with the idea of a relationship with you that arguments appealed to him? Anyone else would've walked away by now.

“You’re infuriating,” you whispered when he touched the corner of your mouth and made it twitch in a small smile. “Impossible.”

“I know,” he whispered back, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, you’re tired and you’re overwhelmed, which is completely my fault. Am I right?”

“Yes,” you sighed. He hit it right on the nose.

“And maybe I was rash in suggesting that you cancel your plans, but I need to take care of a couple things before we discuss that more,” he said, leading you to Ray's car before you could protest. “You just have a good shift, okay?”

He was placating you now, and it was sadly working. “Fine,” you said, touching his hand, the metal one. “I don’t think I said so earlier, but thank you for finally telling me the truth,” you said, calmer than you were moments before. He should've told you from the start, but it couldn't have been easy reopening old wounds regarding his dad.

His gaze softened. “Thank you for letting me.”

“And whatever Ray told you or whatever’s going on, just breathe, okay?” you begged.

He took a deep breath. “I’ll just think of you and it’ll help,” he said, adding in a low voice as he pulled you against him. “And this.”

This was nothing like the slow, languid kisses from minutes ago. This was dominant, claiming, threatening to rob you of the air in your lungs, like he wanted you to feed your own breath into him. He either forgot Ray was there, or he simply didn’t care.

By the time Bucky stopped kissing you and helped you into the car, you didn’t want to look either of them in the eye.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing your temple and shutting the door as your heart flip flopped. God, he was insufferable. Confusing. Obsessed.

“You're certainly keeping him on his toes,” Ray said, not driving off until he made sure Bucky was in his vehicle, too.

“Someone has to,” you said, staring out the window. “I’m going with my friends tomorrow. I don't care if he makes you drag me back,” you said. Unless your life was in some sort of immediate danger, there was no reason for you to skip out on meeting up with the girls.

“So you’re aware, the suggestion of you moving your day out has nothing to do with wanting to control you. He’s upset because of the news I delivered and he wants to keep you close,” Ray explained, making you feel a little bad.

“So, that news was the reason why you both changed your tune, and you can't tell me what that news is,” you guessed. If you were in some sort of danger though, surely Bucky would’ve said so. “He told me about his mom. How I saved her.”

Silence filled the vehicle. “So, you know the truth,” he said after a minute, his voice neutral. “Are you okay?”

“I’m trying to be,” you answered carefully. You really were.

“That’s all you can do,” he said before adding under his breath, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

You snorted. “I guess I'm living breathing proof of that.” It was ironic how an act of kindness put you on this path. “And as much as I don't like to wish pain upon people, I hope Bucky's dad got whatever he deserved.”

Winnie, from the short time you knew her, was nothing but wonderful. Bucky said the dahlia painting in his office served as a reminder that he would never do to you what his dad did to his mom. He would never set you up to take the fall for anyone else, wouldn’t let someone else hurt you if he could help it. He would forever stand by you.

Was pushing him away doing you any good?

“He did,” Ray promised you. “And I say with complete sincerity that I hope today is very uneventful for you after the time you've had.”

Your nose scrunched as you laughed. “So do I, Ray. So do I.”

Ray was kind enough to wait outside of your place as you showered and got ready for work, and didn't push you to talk more before he dropped you off at the shop. He was even kind enough to stop so you could get another cup of coffee. It helped improve your mood.

“There she is!” Kate smiled when you walked in. “Little miss not-so-single anymore.”

“Hey,” you giggled before you paused. “I didn't know you were working today. Did you switch shifts with someone?”

“God, the schedule’s all messed up. Mrs. Crandle called out for some business thing-”

“Business thing?” you asked, your brows pinched. She hardly ever took time off for things like vacation let alone a business thing without informing her staff.

“Yeah, I’m not really sure about all the details, but Lorraine ended up switching the whole schedule around. Mya’s coming in later, and I had to come in early, and your shift’s ending early.”

“What?” you frowned, checking the schedule to make sure. She was right. Your shift today was almost cut in half. “Would’ve been nice to get a text or something.”

The assistant manager wasn't bad to work with, but she could be a little forgetful with things like that. If Bucky hadn't just put money in your account, you may have been more upset over having half a shift cut. After the night and morning you had though, maybe an afternoon off wouldn't be so bad.

“She probably forgot since you were coming in at your normal time. Who knows?” Kate shrugged. “You know, I half expected Clark to be here waiting for you. Seemed really eager to see you yesterday.”

“Yeah, about that.” You looked toward the door, your body tense in anticipation even though he wasn't there. “Why did you tell him I was working today?”

“He’s kind of a regular, and I didn't really think about it. Then Mrs. Crandle brought up your boyfriend and…” Her face fell as she stopped cutting stems, which made you feel bad when she glanced your way. “Crap, I did something wrong, didn't I?”

You weren’t about to go into specifics regarding your personal situation. “I just don’t want customers to know when my shifts are unless I’m specifically working on an order or event for them, okay?” you said, hoping she understood that it was a general request.

Bucky was not getting in your head about your safety.

“Okay, as long as you aren’t mad,” she said. You gave her a smile to assure her that you were okay. “So, tell me about your new boyfriend.”

You filled her in as much as you could to make it sound believable, just like you had with Addison. Like her and Mrs. Crandle, Kate was excited for you. And they would never know the full truth.

As your shift went on, you were surprised you hadn't heard much from Bucky. It was for the best though. He was clearly dealing with something. As much as you didn't want to defend him in your mind, it had taken a lot for him to talk about his parents. To show you some of the damage done to his body. It was a vulnerable moment. Did you owe it to him to be vulnerable, too?

Wait, why did you owe him anything?

“Heading out?” Kate asked once your shift was up.

“Yeah,” you replied, glancing at your phone. You wondered if you should text Bucky before you decided against it. You'd let him know once you got to your place that you wouldn't need a ride. “Just call me if you need me to come back in.”

“Don’t worry about that. Enjoy the rest of your day!” she smiled.

Satisfied when you didn't see Bucky or Ray’s car waiting for you either, you decided to take a walk. It was a nice day, and you needed the fresh air. You hoped the weather was nice for the winery. You’d have to take photos to look back on what was going to be a fun time.

“Hey!” you heard someone shout after a few minutes of walking.

You stopped when you spotted Clark waving at you from the other side of the street. You barely waved back before he joined you. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was just in the neighborhood,” he smiled, pushing his glasses up. “You done working already?”

“Yep,” you said, adjusting your bag. “And I should really-”

“Could we talk for a minute?” he asked.

You hesitated before nodding. “Sure,” you said, falling in step beside him.

“You know, I actually went to the shop to buy you flowers yesterday. I was going to buy you some roses,” he smiled.

Oh, God. “You were?”

“Yeah, but you weren’t there and… It doesn’t matter,” he smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But I was thinking… Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime? My treat.”

The hopeful look in his eyes made a pit form in your stomach. “Clark, I’m seeing someone,” you said, his blue eyes dimming. Hadn’t Kate said that Mrs. Crandle brought up that you were in a relationship? “It’s fairly new, and I don’t want to mess things up,” you explained, though he wasn’t owed an explanation.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” he mumbled, kicking a small rock on the sidewalk. “Well, if it’s fairly new, I'm sure you can get coffee with other people.”

“Get coffee with people? Yes. But this kind of sounds like a date, and I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m sorry,” you said. That would feel like cheating even if you didn't consider it a date, and you weren't that kind of person.

“Then we won’t call it a date,” he grinned.

Maybe you were feeling paranoid, but there was something weird behind his smile. “You just got out of a relationship, and I don’t want to send mixed signals by agreeing to go with you.”

His smile shook a bit. “It's just a coffee.”

“Is it?” The longer he stared, the more odd things felt, and you didn’t like it. “Listen, when you find someone else to give flowers to I’d be happy to pick some out for you.”

“I don't understand.” He laughed, but it sounded bitter. “You’ve always been nice to me.”

“Well, yeah. You’ve always been kind, too, when you come into the shop.”

“Too nice for someone like Bucky Barnes,” he muttered, his smile disappearing completely.

You gaped at him, almost faltering in your step. “What did you just say?”

“I said you’re too nice for someone like Bucky Barnes,” he said louder, his ire clear as day. “You think I don’t know about his reputation? He’s dangerous, and you’re too good for him.”

“How do you know I’m dating him?” you asked. And what did he know about his reputation?

He was quiet for a moment. “Mrs. Crandle said his name, and she has no idea what kind of man he is,” he said, making you feel uneasy. “I don’t think you do either.”

Oh, you knew plenty. “I appreciate your concern, really, but it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Well, I do. And I just don’t see why we can’t have one cup of coffee together,” he said, flashing a smile again. “It’ll be fun.”

“Because you know I’m seeing someone,” you said. He knew it before he bumped into you, but was still pushing for you to go with him. “And I also kind of make it a rule not to date customers,” you added, stopping when you got to your building. You walked faster than you thought.

“Well, rules should have exceptions, right? And if Bucky cared so much, where is he? Why wasn’t he waiting to pick you up and take you home?” he pressed, his eyes narrowing when you dug into your purse. “Maybe he doesn’t care about you as much as you think.”

Your next breath came out shaky. He hadn’t raised his voice at you, but you didn’t appreciate the third degree, or the implication that Bucky didn’t care. “Because he’s a busy man who sometimes works both days and nights. I don’t expect him to drop everything just to take me home.”

“If you took a chance on me, you’d never have to worry about things like that.”

You were starting to feel nauseous. “Well, sometimes I like the quiet after the bustle of the shop, so walking helps me decompress. And I can't take a chance on you when I’m seeing someone else.” Why was he being so pushy?

He took a small step closer. “You know, it’s dangerous to walk home alone.”

You took a step back, your keys between your fingers. “You’re right about that,” you agreed. The only reason you did so today was to take back a little control, which didn’t seem so smart now.

“I can start walking you home if you want,” he smiled, towering over you. Was he always so imposing? “When’s your next shift?”

You managed a smile in return, but it was extremely forced. “Clark, that’s really not necessary, but thank you for the offer. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

He gently took your arm when you turned toward the door, worry crawling up your spine when his hand tightened a fraction. You suddenly wish you had Bucky or Ray around. “I really don’t mind.”

“My boyfriend will mind, and I’m sure you can understand that. So it’s a no on the coffee and the walks home,” you said gently but firmly, pulling your arm back and rubbing the spot where Clark grabbed you. He wasn’t listening. It somehow felt worse than Bucky and you couldn’t pinpoint why. Was it because Clark tried to act nice? “It’s been a long few days, and I’m going to get some rest. Have a nice day, okay?”

His eyes narrowed again, but it was his chilling smile that unnerved you. “I’m sure I'll see you again soon. We’ll have to get that coffee,” he said, walking off before you could say another word.

You rushed into the building once he was out of sight, your hands shaking. It may have been from the confrontation or the combination of everything. Maybe Clark was just lonely and latched on a bit because you were nice. Hadn't Bucky done something similar?

But if Clark wanted to see you, why hadn't he just gone into the shop if he knew you were working?

Double checking your locks once you were in your apartment, you took a breath and stared at your phone once you sat down. You had to talk to Bucky. He answered within a few seconds of you calling.

“Kotyonok, is everything okay?” he asked, sounding both happy and concerned to hear from you.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” you asked, hearing a few other men speaking in the background.

“Because you’re calling me and not texting. And you sound a little off. What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s fine,” you lied. How did he recognize that you felt off? “I just wanted you to know that the assistant manager changed my shift, so I went home early.”

“Wait, you’re already home?” he asked. The background noise suddenly stopped. “Did you get a cab? Please tell me you didn’t walk back to your place.”

“…Fine, I won’t tell you that.”

Bucky let out an impressive string of curse words as you pulled the phone away from your ear. “That’s not safe. You know it isn’t,” he hissed, but you knew he wasn’t actually angry with you. Just the situation. And bumping into Clark today and Zemo the day before, he had a bit of a point. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Because I said it may not be a good idea to go out with your friends.”

You closed your eyes. He was not going to make you feel bad. “I just needed a breather, okay? And I made it home just fine.”

“But did you? How do I know someone didn’t follow you?” he asked. Clark’s face flashed in your mind when you stayed quiet. “…Kotyonok, did someone follow you?”

“No one followed me that I know of,” you said. You really didn't have any idea. “But… I did bump into Clark. He was in the neighborhood.”

“Clark? That guy from the shop who tried to give you flowers just happened to be in your neighborhood when I wasn't around?” he asked, fury seeping into his tone as you winced.

“I… I’m sure it was a coincidence,” you said. Placating him in this wasn’t going to work, but you had to try.

“That isn’t a fucking coincidence and we both know it. Did he say anything? Try anything?”

You shut your eyes. It would be like ripping off a band-aid. “He asked me to go get a cup of coffee with him, but I told him I was seeing someone.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “He asked you out?” he asked, making you shift in your seat. “Why the fuck do I not have a file on him yet?!” he snapped at someone in the background.

“I’m working on it, boss!” you heard someone promise. “Should I call-”

“No. I’ll call him myself,” Bucky growled.

Who was he talking about? “Bucky, it’s okay. The guy asked me out and I said no,” you assured him. You weren't going to go out with Clark. “I’m sure women throw themselves at you every day and you turn them down.”

“They don't ‘bump’ into me in my neighborhood. And had you told me you were leaving early, I could’ve made sure this guy didn’t go anywhere near you. I don’t even want him near your shop until I know more about him,” he said, his anger not lessening. “If he tries anything, I will tear him apart piece by fucking piece,” he promised you, the intensity in his tone making your throat go dry.

“That isn’t necessary,” you whispered.

He sighed. “Why would you deliberately put yourself in a spot like this just to prove a point? Be pissed at me, I can take that, but do not risk your safety,” he said, adding in a quieter voice, “I couldn’t take it if something happened to you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hating how guilty you felt, how worried he sounded on your behalf. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to worry you,” you said. It was stubborn and dumb on your part, and now you were afraid that Bucky really would try to cancel your day out tomorrow. You couldn’t let him. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“Make it up to me?” he asked. That seemed to get his attention. “How are you going to do that?”

“I’ll…” you began, steadying yourself. Natasha said you had power, and maybe you’d have to test that sooner than you expected. “Stay at your place tonight.”

You could hear a pin drop from the quiet. “You’ll stay the night?” he asked, his voice moving like lava through your veins.

“Yes,” you whispered, hammering the nail in the coffin.

“Give me two hours and I'll come get you,” he said, his voice strained, eager. “Be ready.”

“I will be.”

God, you hoped you knew what you were doing.

Oh, Clark. He's a problem now, isn't he? What do we think Ray told Bucky? And what's going to happen when you spend the night? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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psformybss · 1 month ago

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The Case of the Missing Ring

series masterlist

It started with the vacuum.

Not just a casual pass through the hallway, either. No. This was intentional vacuuming. Strategic. Military-grade.

She noticed because it was 9 a.m. on a Tuesday, and he didn’t even drink his coffee first. Just rolled out of bed, kissed her cheek absentmindedly, and then immediately began dragging the vacuum cleaner around like it owed him money.

She watched from the kitchen with her mug in hand, brows slightly lifted. “Doing some early spring cleaning?”

“Yup,” he said. Too quickly.

“Even under the TV stand?”

“Gotta keep it…dustless.”

She blinked. Their dog Teddy raised his head from the couch and huffed, unimpressed. Then flopped back down.

“Okay then,” she muttered, sipping her coffee. “Have fun being unhinged.”

By Wednesday afternoon, it had evolved.

She came home to find every drawer in the kitchen wide open, utensils scattered across the counter like a cooking show gone terribly wrong. He was crouched in front of the junk drawer, deep in contemplation, holding a broken rubber band and a spare Allen wrench like they might offer answers.

“Are you… reorganizing?”

He jumped and nearly smacked his head on the counter.

“Oh. Hey. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Clearly.”

He wiped his hands on his sweatpants and gave her a sheepish smile. “Just thought the kitchen could use a refresh.”

“You alphabetized the spices.”

“They’ve been out of order for weeks, babe.”

“You didn’t even know we owned paprika until last month.”

He went quiet.

Teddy stared at him from the doorway, head tilted like are we okay?

She narrowed her eyes. Something was up.

By Thursday, he’d moved on to the garage.

She found him hunched over a toolbox, muttering under his breath. There were labeled bins everywhere—“Misc Bolts,” “Random Wires,” “Definitely Not Important.” A half-disassembled shelf leaned against the wall like it had surrendered to the madness.

He gave her a quick wave. “Hey! Just decluttering. You know, making space.”

“For what?”

“…More organization.”

She raised a brow.

He reached for a flashlight and disappeared behind a stack of paint cans.

Friday brought the final unraveling.

She walked into the bedroom looking for her phone charger and instead found her husband halfway under the bed, flashlight in one hand, the other arm stretched out like he was spelunking for treasure.

“What exactly are you doing?”

He froze. Slowly backed out from beneath the frame, blinking like a deer in LED headlights. “Um.”

“Did you lose something?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Maybe.”

She crossed her arms. Teddy padded in, sniffed the flashlight, then flopped beside the bed with a sigh.

She waited.

He gave her a sheepish smile. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Mhm.”

“I’m sure it’ll turn up.”

“Right.”

It turned up in his jeans.

She was folding laundry—his Sunday pair, soft and worn from a lazy weekend spent curled on the couch—when something metallic clinked into her palm.

She froze.

And stared.

Wedding ring. His wedding ring.

She turned it over between her fingers, lips twitching.

So that’s what he’d been losing his mind over.

The vacuuming. The kitchen. The garage. The bed.

She slipped the ring into the pocket of her hoodie, grinning.

Let’s see how long it takes him to confess.

That night, they were curled up on the couch, Teddy stretched across both their legs like a warm little barrier. A movie played quietly in the background, but his mind was clearly somewhere else—twitchy fingers, tapping foot, distracted glances toward his left hand.

She nuzzled closer, trying not to laugh.

He sighed, then shifted to face her.

“I have to tell you something,” he said softly.

She blinked up at him, perfectly innocent. “Yeah?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I lost my ring.”

“Your wedding ring?”

He nodded like a kid about to get grounded. “I didn’t want to tell you ‘til I found it. I’ve been tearing the house apart trying to—” He paused. “Wait. You didn’t notice?”

She paused dramatically, then reached into her hoodie pocket and pulled it out.

“You mean this ring?”

His jaw dropped. “WHERE WAS IT?!”

“In your jeans. Laundry day. Pocket.”

“I checked my pockets!”

“No,” she said, voice sweet. “You muttered at them.”

He groaned and covered his face. “Oh my God. I went full gremlin for no reason.”

She giggled and took his hand. “You could’ve just told me, you know.”

“I panicked,” he admitted, still flustered. “I thought if I found it quietly, you’d never know. But then I couldn’t find it. And it just kept getting worse. And at one point I was too deep in the lie to climb out.”

“So you organized the garage.”

“I thought maybe I dropped it in a toolbox.”

She burst out laughing, head falling to his shoulder. “God, you’re so dramatic.”

“You married me.”

“And I have no regrets,” she said, holding up the ring. “Now shut up and let me put this back on your finger before you glue it to yourself.”

He smiled, wide and sheepish, and let her guide the ring back to its rightful place. Her fingers lingered there, thumb brushing over his knuckle.

“Still fits,” she teased.

“Perfectly,” he said.

His hand slipped to her waist, tugging her close. The movie kept playing, but he wasn’t paying attention anymore. His focus was all on her—the warmth of her laugh, the way she still looked at him like he was a little ridiculous but entirely hers.

“Thank you for not making fun of me more,” he murmured.

“Oh, I absolutely will,” she whispered, grinning. “Just not tonight.”

He kissed her then—soft and slow, a mix of sheepish apology and quiet relief. Her fingers curled at the back of his neck, smile still lingering against his lips.

When they pulled apart, Teddy gave a loud snore, as if to say finally.

She leaned her forehead to his. “Next time, just tell me.”

“Next time,” he promised, hand tightening around hers, “I’m stapling it to my finger.”

“Or you could just take it off before you throw your pants in the laundry.”

He blinked. “You’re asking too much.”

She laughed, kissed him again, and melted into the quiet. The chaos of the week forgotten, the only thing that mattered now the warmth of their home, their dog snoring at their feet, and the subtle weight of the ring—back where it belonged.

#drew starkey x secret fiancee!reader #hidden vows #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x oc #drew starkey x you #drew starkey #obx #drew starkey obx #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fic

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strawberrykidneystone · 8 months ago

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lend an arm

summary: you’re a mechanic who sevika refused to work with until one day she comes back with her arm ripped off

a/n: idk if the title makes sense but it’s a play on lend a hand but yk,,, she lost her whole arm😋

tags: fluff, banter, mention of hooking up, less spicy than i thought it was gonna be whoops, smoking

ty anon for the request!!!

ao3 version

when you were hired as silco’s handyman, you imagined you would be working with sevika a lot to add upgrades to her arm, fix her arm after combat, etc. etc.

nope.

quite the opposite. you were met with the cold shoulder every time, a gruff out ‘i can do it myself’ before she stomps off to the corner of silco’s office to tinker with her arm. you’re sure there’s a masturbation joke there somewhere, but you haven’t quite thought of a clever enough one to say aloud.

did you hook up with her a few times? yes. was it your proudest moment? no, but damn was it good.

given that, most of your time was spent with jinx, albeit sometimes more than you’d like. you love the girl to bits, but sometimes she can be a bit… much. still, you liked her music taste and you got on well enough, not to mention her inventions were quite clever, not that you’d ever say it to her; she's already got quite the ego.

still, the blue haired girl was still family or whatever you’d call it. you knew she was still sneaking into her lab and pretended to be none the wiser, but you’re pretty sure that she knew you knew.

although sevika refused your help, you couldn’t help but notice how she’d glance up every time she tweaked something on her arm, as if she were searching for approval from you. you’d make eye contact with her and glance down at what she’d fixed, giving an approving nod or shaking your head depending on what she did. each time you nodded, you’d swear you saw a blush creep up her ears. if you shook your head though, she’d scowl and vigorously undo her work and redo it until either she was satisfied with it or look to get your approval again. it was a cute little game you two would play, but you knew you’d be able to make the fixes about 10x faster if she would only let you.

and the silco died.

with nowhere else to go and determined not going to join any side in the turf war for the lanes, that left you the last drop where you’d been sleeping on the couch in his old office. damn, you still couldn’t believe that he was gone. sure he was an asshole most of the time, but he was one of the people and at least tried to keep give shithole of the undercity some sort of organization.

whatever, at least his couch was comfy.

you were tinkering with one of jinx’s old chompers in silco’s office when sevika came barreling in. you jumped a bit from the slam of the door and looked at the panting figure in the doorway. she had her poncho covering the front of her body, but the lumpiness under the cloth alarmed you that something was wrong. she wordlessly walked past you and threw her poncho off to the side, revealing her flesh arm holding her mechanical arm under her armpit. the gears sticking out of the stump of her mechanical arm told you that someone had ripped it out, and she was pissed.

she slammed her arm on the table and grumbled to herself, grabbing a flathead screwdriver from the table of her former boss’ desk. she stabbed the head in and cursed under her breath, muttering something about a ‘pink haired brat’ as she attempted to fix her mechanical limb. she spent a good 10 minutes trying to fix the arm with her one good hand. you minded your business and kept your eyes on your book, studying about the latest technology in the upper city, hextech.

until you heard it. she sighed and turned around, leaning her back against the table, saying something quietly in your direction. you lifted your head and tilted it questioningly to the side, “what was that?”

sevika huffed and dragged her hand down her face, “can you fix my arm?”

a small grin crept up your lips, oh you were gonna have fun with this, “what’s the magic word?”

sevika deadpanned at you and rolled her eyes, but was too tired to argue, “…please.”

you clapped your hands together and happily stood up, “yes! i’ve been waiting for this!”

you basically pushed her aside as you quickly got to work on her arm, trying to undo as much damage as you could. after about an hour, you were able to restore basic function in the arm, but one good punch could make the whole thing fall apart all over again. you straightened up and looked around the room to see where she had gone, you really fell into your own world as you worked. looking around, you saw her on the couch fixated down, the same area where your ass had been only moments before. you cleared your throat which seemed to snap her out of her trance, her head snapping up to meet your eyes.

you held her arm up and gestured for her to come over. she scrambled up to meet you at your side, holding her arm out expectantly. brushing past her, you attached her arm back on with a satisfying ‘click’ at it latched into place. you took a step back to let her adjust to it again. she clenched her hand into a fist and turned her hand over, admiring your handiwork. she hummed in approval and looked down at you with a glint of respect in her eyes that you’d never seen before.

“that should do for now, but you’ll probably need a new arm if you don’t want to get your ass beat,” you smirked as you dusted off your hands off on your pants.

“thought that you fixed it?,” she said with a raised eyebrow. her tone was meant not in an attacking manner, but more curiosity on the actual damage of her arm.

“i’m a mechanic, not a miracle worker,” you chided, crossing your arms over your chest.

sevika raised her arms in relinquishment, a half smirk gracing her lips, “easy princess, ‘meant no offense to your skills.”

“uh huh,” you responded sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you patted her shoulder.

she sighed and looked down, glancing back up at you in reluctance, “what i meant was… thank you.”

you raised your eyebrows in surprise, but smiled at the sentiment, “you’re welcome, i just wish i could’ve helped more earlier.”

“earlier?” she asked in a neutral tone, taking a cigarette out of her pocket and putting it in the corner of her mouth, lighting it with one hand while she cupped around her mouth with the other. she took a quick drag and blew the smoke away from you, letting the cigarette rest lazily between her fingers.

“y’know, before silco died. if you had let me work on your arm and upgrade it, it probably wouldn’t have broken in the first place,” you said matter-of-factly, plucking the cigarette from her fingers and taking a puff, purposefully blowing it towards her.

“my arm was fine, it was just this one time,” she responded gruffly, taking another drag from the cigarette. you shrugged and glanced over her arm, subconsciously making sure that every part was working as it should.

“…where the hell should i get a new arm?” she asked as nonchalantly as she could, but a little more waiver of worry still came through in her voice.

you looked up at her and grinned, pointing up, “the answer is closer than you think.”

she looked up and jumped a little seeing the blue haired girl, “jesus jinx.”

nothing made sevika jump, she must’ve really been on edge with silco’s death.

jinx giggled and shook her head, “fine, but i want complete creative control.”

sevika sighed defeatedly and looked at you for any sort of help, which of course you gave none.

“fine.”

#arcane #arcane jinx #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #sevika #reader x sevika #sevika fluff #arcane season 2 #arcane fan fic #strawberrykidneystone writes #strawberrykidneystone

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momo-minomo · 4 months ago

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Fic Fairy Friday: Batfamily Shenanigans

This week's fic rec post is dedicated to the Batfamily just BEING a family. The snark, the annoying nagging, the overprotectiveness, etc. I feel like we don't get to see the Batfamily together and friendly nearly enough. Some of these would fit in the comics, some are more Wayne Family Adventures coded, and some are full on AU. Enjoy!

The Fic Fairy Friday Masterpost

Code Bat by Listentothelittlebird

Summary:

Within Gotham, the Bats are a tight-knit group - family - that runs like clockwork. Outside of Gotham, none of their teammates know they’re related. This series explores the shenanigans that the Bats get up to, as well as how this distinction would affect canon.

Momo's Notes: This one is a series rather than a single fic and I love it so much. When Dick first decides he wants to break away from Batman's shadow Bruce agrees to keep their affiliation with each other secret, with one caveat. If either of them call a 'code bat' the other drops everything immediately and comes to help. As they add on to the family the secrets they're keeping from their non-Gotham friends and teammates piles up but it serves to keep the younger, less trained members of the family safe from the older heroes' enemies so they keep it going, each new family member agreeing to the Code Bat protocol when outside of Gotham, complete with entirely different hero names and costumes. It's interesting seeing a Justice League, Titans, Outsiders, Outlaws, and Young Justice that has no idea the Batfamily even a thing even as certain team members sometimes act super shifty when dealing with other teams or after getting a sudden, secret message.

I'm not a villain, I swear! by CoyoteFang1987

Summary:

Tim wakes up in a world in which Batman doesn't exist. And by consequence, the Robins never became heroes. Dick is a Talon, Jason is Red Hood (a villain), and Damian is a League of Assassins assassin. And Tim apparently is a hero called Draken, who, frankly, sucks at being a hero. And in this weird alternate reality, something big is brewing and Batman isn't here to keep the Justice League from tearing itself apart. Tim is really really done with everything. Dick, Jason, and Damian aren't helping. Tim really really hates magic as well.

Momo's Notes: Tim, Dick, Jason, and Damian all wake up in a world where Batman doesn't exist, Bruce Wayne might be the new Lex Luthor, and 3/4 of the Batfam appear to be villains working for various organizations. There's a lot of fun shenanigans going on in this one and all four brothers have good relationships with each other so we get to see them being effortlessly badass together. The Dick/Wally in this is also adorable.

You, Me, and the Humanity in Between by JUBE514

Summary:

Bruce doesn’t know what’s wrong with his child, but he’s pretty sure kids aren’t meant to work like this. From the day he had looked up into the tops of the circus tent and saw a frightened mirror image of a boy who had just experienced the worst day of his life, Bruce had instantly gone into emergency mode. The Gotham PD had wanted to pass the boy off into the care of the circus. The circus had mumbled underneath their breaths about superstitions, about not having a boy like that with them, about not being able to handle something like Dick. So GCPD, not knowing what to do, had started talking about one of the handful of overburdened boy homes that handles a majority of Gotham’s unlucky orphans. All the while, the camera lights flash bright and loud, wanting to know everything. Bruce couldn’t let that happen. Not then, not ever again.

Momo's Notes: This is one of the most unique cryptid AUs I think I've ever read. Bruce's only human child in this is Damian and the variety of magical creature the older 3 batbros are is really neat. The way their abilities and nature interact with each other is also really sweet. For anyone who's a sucker for good dad Bruce, this one is sure to make you happy.

Keep Losing Sleep by incogneat_oh

Summary:

“When’d you last sleep?” Jay asks, curious. “Eleven years ago,” Tim says, at the same time as Dick says, “Tuesday.”

Momo's Notes: In a family as traumatized as this, it makes sense that more than one of them would have trouble sleeping. This is super short but a lovely little glance into the family just being there for each other when sleep won't come.

Brightly Colored Adhesive Papers by LuminaStarCrest

Summary:

Tim liked to show people that he loves them by leaving around sticky notes. Or, 5 times Tim left sticky notes for others to find, and 1 time he found sticky notes that he didn’t write

Momo's Notes: Another one that's short but sweet! My favorite part in this is probably the pure sass between Tim and Jason but Tim doing his emotional support Robin thing and making Bruce get some damn sleep is a close second lol

Cannonball by SunnyBlue

Summary:

Why is it always Tim that disappears? If it was any of the rest of them, it would be a lot less concerning. It’s not like Tim can’t hold his own in a fight — he’s a Bat, after all — but the kid has a tendency to form the craziest plans out of all of them, which often ends up putting him in the craziest situations. When Tim goes missing, it usually means he’s in some deep shit, and Tim in deep shit means Jason scrambling every time. Without fail. This fucking kid. Tim is missing and his brothers track him down and bring him home. Also everybody loves each other and isn't so incredibly emotionally constipated because I just want them to be happy and because I'm the author and I said so.

Momo's Notes: I kinda love Jason's pov in friendly Batfam fics. This one is Jason and Dick terrified and furious as they rush to Tim's rescue with bonus points for the quick bit of Tim and Damian bonding the author added.

Loading and Aspect Ratio by JUBE514

Summary:

So, it didn’t start out like this. Alfred would scoff at the statement, about how Bruce was trying to justify the whole situation to himself. It had started out as a simple design, black everything with black outlines and black hood. It got a little more intense as the world went on, got wind of his ghost on the streets, and became scared of The Bat . So Bruce got a little more creative with it, Alfred and him had a good laugh over the name, the scare, and Alfred had a vicious streak of humor that he had passed onto his ward- So now the suit had a visible bat-theme, an insignia to drape in the shadows and to paint across the streets of Gotham. It only took a year into the whole charade of heroism for Bruce to overhear a conversation between some goons- some low level thug hired by the Riddler this week- about nothing at all pertaining to what the hell the Riddler was doing in the sewers but instead: “ The Batman can fly, you know, I’ve seen his wings.” -- A world where nobody has wings, but people think they do, and that changes everything.

Momo's Notes: This is another fun AU with lots of Batfamily bonding and badassery. Bruce makes his cape wing shaped to further scare the hell out of Gotham criminals but it's little baby Dickie, freshly adopted and traumatized, who convinces him to make them actual capable of flight. The Batfam never claimed to be metas but the rest of the world, especially the Justice League, decided that's what they were anyway. It came in clutch tho. The main pairing in this is SuperBat and they are freaking adorable.

The Waynes, Damsels in Distress by hitthedeck

Summary:

Roses are red, violets are blue, Bruce Wayne and his kids get kidnapped every other week. Some things are just universal, undeniable facts of life.Or, in which Bruce Wayne is still Batman and his kids are still Robins, but they keep letting themselves get kidnapped because they think it's funny.

Momo's Notes: People forget that Bruce Wayne raised Dick Grayson to be how he is and the two of them share the same warped sense of humor that let them shout puns while beating up criminals and put "Bat" in front of freaking EVERYTHING with a straight face. This fic is just the Batfam fucking with the JLA for their own sick amusement. I love them.

Here's a Reminder (That You Haven't Fallen Through the Cracks) by popsunner

Summary:

If it’s a salesperson, he’ll shove them a hundred dollar tip and tell them to go away, if it’s some religious do gooder, he’ll direct them to Metropolis. If it’s a Rogue, he’ll tell them he’s busy and to please get in the fucking line. If it’s one of his siblings-- “Hey, Tim!” Dick says brightly, forearm braced against the doorframe. Dammit.

Momo's Notes: Finally a fic that gives Cass and Duke some love! This is a short one where Tim's siblings drive him up the wall out of love and concern for their workaholic weirdo brother. The snark and sass is flowing freely and the JLA's best detective/spies are being about as subtle as a brick to the head lol.

To Rescue a Bat by Blueseabird2

Summary:

Batman gets into a situation during an alien invasion and could use a rescue. Unfortunately, Dick and Jason don't think the Justice League is up for the task. At all. So Dick lets the League know that he will be handling the situation and to expect Batman back by the end of the night. He even promises that he won't be going alone. No one should stand in the way of a Batfamily rescue, even if the Justice League doesn't know there's a Batfamily at all.

Momo's Notes: I love the closeness Dick and Jason share in this one. Jason and Dick are two older brothers who both struggle with the towering rage simmering just below the surface at all times and in this fic they've come to lean on each other for support. When most of the JLA's leadership is captured and the ransom video shows Bruce to be on borrowed time Dick decides it's time to let that anger loose a little and Jason is ready to back him up (with attitude of course, but still). With their fellow Batfamily members (both official and honorary) right beside them they decide it's the perfect time to reveal their affiliation with Batman to save their dad. Bruce is SO fucking proud.

Monolith by CharlesWaterloo

Summary:

Diana realised with a jolt that none of them had actually asked him how he knew Batman. And she was just as curious as the rest of them about the “we”. It implied Batman worked with more people. ‘How did you come to know Batman? Does he have any other friends?’ His mouth fell open, and he snorted, which evolved into full-out laughter. ‘I’m sorry. Oh my god - friends?’ Diana felt a little hurt on Batman’s behalf. ‘Are you not his friend?' He shook his head. ‘Did B really not say anything? I’m hurt. No, I’m not his friend. I’m his son.’ (An AU where the Justice League haven't met any of Bruce's kids.)

Momo's Notes: The Justice League isn't aware of Batman's identity or that he's a father. When Dick needs to sub in for Bruce at a JL meeting, though, and he realizes this? Cue the sibling shenanigans! Bonus points for Duke, Cass, and Steph getting some attention and praise in this one!

Batman/men? by Bumpkin

Summary:

Batman wasn’t a founding member of the Justice League, and isn’t known for playing well with other heroes. But he does end up joining, and he does try to get along while still keeping his secrets close. It’s a delicate balancing act. Then comes a mission that requires Batman to be the lynchpin for their success. Except there’s a problem with the execution of the plan, Batman would have to be in several places at once. He’s confident he can do it. The Justice League, for lack of any alternatives, can only go along and in the process learn more about their reclusive teammate.

Momo's Notes: Another fic that's short but fun where the Justice League isn't aware of the Batfam's existence and it's entirely in non-Batfam povs over the course of an important mission where Batman seemingly needs to be in several places at once and… succeeds? Easily?

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xx-akubara-xx · 1 month ago

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ANOTHER AU THAT I HAVE NO TIME FOR: FallingStars

Remember this concept art way back?

I'm going to yap a little about this Bill's backstory.

When he was born, his special eye was seen as more of a blessing than an abnormality. To the point where Bill was hosted as some sort of profit- a god.

According to prophecy, he was to bring the stars to Euclida. And he had every intention to live up to everyone's expectations.

But it didn't work out.

Bill failed as a god and as a son. This event was already devastating him, but things just got worse from here.

See, in this AU, this entire dimension is actively dying. Anything that could go wrong, does.

Time Baby is a geriatric skeletal old man. There is no law and order. There is no chaos. Every world is either actively withering away or is already just gone.

Bill never had a chance to become a problem.

You want to vandalize that bar? It hasn't been open in centuries, but go for it. You want to destroy that planet? Solar flares beat you to it, but have fun.

Bill still collects 'henchmaniacs' but he collects them while acting as a 'God' as that's all he knows. His followers follow him - because what else is there to do?

But none of it mattered. No matter what Bill did -every living thing he comes across dies somehow. He was a god of a dying reality.

Eventually, he comes across Earth... alone at this point in the story.

And Earth seems like a paradise at first. Only at first. Infinite energy, and fantastic technology- but riddled with ever evolving plagues and crippling solar flares that threaten mass extinctions.

Bill finds and becomes Ford's Muse in this world. He encourages him to build a portal to escape from their dying reality.

Stanford isn't as optimistic as Bill. How can he? His brother died years ago, organs harvested for the black market. The remainder of his family has long passed for various reasons. There is no Shermie. There will never be another set of twins.

He doesn't see the point of trying to save humanity or himself.

But he loves this Bill. Worships him.

So he makes the very sane decision to build a doomsday device instead of a portal. And he attempts to take out Bill with him.

Bill survives this —like he somehow survives everything else.

But no Ford. No humans. Nobody left.

Fortunately, reality decays enough for him to slip out into another one. (Or something like that)

Absolutely disillusioned and with the most pessimistic worldview, he ends up somehow adopting Anti-Mabel. Or she adopts him. Hard to tell.

...If you can't tell, this AU is insanely busy and could easily be cut up into 2-3 different storylines on their own. And I don't have the time for any of them.

#book of bill #bill cipher #AU #Rambing #Falling Stars

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

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Can't Have One Without the Other 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your marriage is on the rocks.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You sit before your tablet. The screen is blanket as you twirl it around and around. It's easy when you have an assignment. On your own, you have nothing. Every ounce of inspiration is gone. Wrung out by your indifference and exhaustion.

You sigh and put the pen down. You lean your head in your hands and sigh. There's something wrong with you. A lot, actually. It's not just Bucky and whatever's going on there, it's you. Something's missing. Or broken.

You lock the screen and stick the pen to the side. You shut the light off as you leave your office and go down to the kitchen. You open the fridge and take out what you need.

After your workout, you went to that all-organic store. Then you came home and did a deep clean of the fridge, switching out all the junk for the healthier options. It kept you busy enough not to think. That seems to be the problem. Thinking.

You rinse the chickpeas and the lettuce, you cut the chicken into strips to bake. High protein, low cal. It will keep you from snacking but a double chocolate cheesecake would be better. You sigh and push away the craving.

As the chicken cooks, you stand by the oven and absorb its warmth. You zone out as you stare at the wall. You used to cook together. He even taught you how to make the water cake his mom cooked during the hard years. That was fun. It was the closest he got to talking about before.

"Hey, doll," Bucky startles you and your eyes come into focus. "How's my best gal?"

You're jarred by the brightness in his voice. More so by the colourful bunch in his hand. He wiggles the bouquet towards your face.

"Got some of that German beer," he lifts the six pack of short bottles. "The kind you like."

You accept the carnations. You look over the pink, white, and purple petals. You make yourself smile as your insides rot. What were you thinking earlier?

"I'll get a vase," you say then pause. "Thanks, honey."

You shift and pucker your lips. He cranes to kiss you and taps your ass. "That's what I'm talking about," he comments as he parts.

You turn and search for a vase. You take it out and add water and the stems. The stove opens.

"What're we having?" He asks.

"Um, I was making a chicken and chickpea salad but if you want, I can do up some rice with yours."

"Sounds good to me," he says as he shuts the door. "You know my favourite part is dessert."

You set the vase on the corner of the counter and turn it to show the most vibrant flowers. He comes up behind you and his hands settle on your hips. He inhales the scent of your hair.

"You worked out today," he mutters. He can smell the sweat. You changed your clothes but since you cleaned up, you didn't bother showering yet. You assumed he'd be late.

"Just a bit," you shrug and touch his hands.

He reluctantly lets you go as you move around him. You take down two bowls. You feel him watching.

"You know you only think those things about yourself, I don't," he leans on the counter. "I never said you were fat."

You wince, "I know, Bucky. It's not... It's my own problem. I understand."

"Hm, it's our problem, we're married," he comes closer. "You know, you're saying I'm the one not talking. You're not exactly chatty yourself."

"Sorry, I... I'm tired. I went shopping and cleaned and... probably didn't do as much as you," you look down guiltily.

"Doesn't matter. You did lots," he insists as he touches your lower back. "Again, not me saying so, is it?"

"No, guess not. Sorry." You keep your head down.

He reaches to frame your chin, his fingers stretching up your cheek. He turns your head. You meet his eyes as he smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes.

"Don't be, not for that," He squeezes and you whimper. You grab onto his wrist as panic surges in your chest. You turn to him completely. "But you should be sorry."

"Ow, Bucky, ow, what're you--" His metal fingers dig into your cheeks. He's never touched you like this. He was always a bit reticent to do so with his metal hand.

"Divorce." He growls. "Nat fucking told me." He scoffs and pens you against the counter. "It's called fucking loyalty and she's got a lot more than you do."

"What? No, I didn't... Bucky... I haven't--"

"You're not going to. We'll fix this."

You whine and slap his bicep, "you're hurting me--"

"Me hurting you?" He hisses. "You went behind my fucking back."

"No, I didn't-- argh! Get off of me," you smack him again. "Bucky, please."

"After last night, I thought we were back, baby."

"It's... I was confused. I didn't do anything--"

"You lied to me. You faked it, didn't you?"

"What?" You wheeze, head thrumming from the pressure.

"Last night, when you came for me. You were fucking lying." He snarls as his nose touches yours. "Then you went out and fucking humiliated me. Saying you're gonna leave me."

"I didn't say that--"

"I love you. You know I do. You fucking know it," he breathes.

"I know, Bucky, I love you too." You rub his chest, "but you're hurting me."

He bares his teeth and shoves you away. A hot pain sears along your cheekbones. You cradle your face as the sudden warm flow at the gash left from the vibranium plate. You gasp and look at him, shakily pulling your fingers away to see the blood. He sees it too. He heaves visibly.

"Shit," he looks at his hand, "I shoulda got that fixed--"

You press your fingers back to the cut as the iron smell of blood overwhelms you. He comes toward you and you slide along the counter.

"Doll, I didn't mean to do that--"

"Don't--" you put your other hand out. "I... I'll just clean up. Please." You barely hold back the quaver in your voice. "Please, just... take the chicken out before it burns."

You move cautiously past him, too afraid too look directly at him. He doesn't try to follow you. You rush out to the bathroom and shut the door with your foot. You turn and look in the mirror. Ow.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #can't have one without the other #mcu #marvel #captain america #winter soldier #avengers

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stuckinmymind22 · 3 months ago

Note

Hello Please could you write a Shanks x you. They were apprentice lovers on the pirate king's ship. After the crew separated, y/n disappeared. When Shanks found out about her, she had become a marine and didn't remember it. Oh, at least she pretended not to be. But Shanks knew what to do. She wouldn't become a marine just like that. Something happened, and he would find out and get her out of that stupid organization. Please, your work is incredible. I'll send you a gift. Take care. I hope you can accept my request.

open book | shanks x gn! reader

hi anon! first of all sorry for the late reply i know it's been a while. also thank you so much!!! when i saw this in my inbox i had an idea right away, i've been chipping away at it this past month, it helps my brain to be able to hop between projects and i kept returning to this one it was very fun to write so thank you for the inspiration (and the gift, can't forget that) love you and thanks for reading the silly things i write 💕

tags: lowkey hurt/comfort, very bittersweet, first love reunited years later, canon typical violence, drinking, swearing, suggestive (it always is with this man let's be honest), ambiguous ending ig (in my head it all works out lol)

wc: 5.9 k

a/n: i told myself i cannot go to bed until i finally finished this so if we see any typos or mistakes no we didn't, just know i tried lol

Shanks heard your laugh before he saw you. That sound wasn't something that he'd easily forget. It had been years, nearing decades at this point, since he'd hast heard it, but it was unmistakable. Shanks had never forgotten about you. How could he? You were his one regret. An injury that never healed quite right.

He hadn't understood his feelings for you until it had been much too late — until you'd been too far out of his reach. By the time he had realized how he felt, you had become impossible to find. He had tried, over the years he'd made many attempts to track you down, but nothing ever came up. All traces of you were gone, it'd been like you never even existed.

After all of this time, finally getting confirmation that you were alive lifted a weight from his shoulders — one he hadn't known he'd been holding. He looked around the dingy bar to find you. The prospect of seeing you again made him feel giddy. The feeling brought him back to his youth, to the last time you'd seen each other. It was far too late to change anything — he knew that — but talking to you one more time might finally bring him the closure he was missing.

When he spotted you, his heart stopped, but not in a good way. HE could barely believe his eyes. Yes, you were there, but you were wearing the unmistakable uniform of a marine. A rear admiral. There was no fucking way. He knew it had been years and things had changed, but there was no way you had changed that much. Maybe he had simply drank too much and was seeing things wrong, hallucinating even. At least that would make sense.

Shanks squeezed his eyes shut (a good substitute for rubbing them, he'd found) and looked again. The same scar on your forehead, one he'd watched you receive. The smile was the same, everything lined up with his memory. There was no more denying it. It was you. And you were a goddamn marine — or at least in one of their uniforms... interacting with the unit like you knew them.

Something was off, it had to be.

You had fucking hated the marines, and the World Government as a whole. At least you had the last time he'd seen you. He remembered the drunken rants you would go on, airing out all your qualms with the government — those rants he had always enjoyed, your animated passion had made them quite entertaining. Everything about the picture in front of him went against the very core of what he knew about you.

Truthfully, he had long suspected that you'd disappeared into the Revolutionary Army and that was why you'd been impossible to find. That was a seed that Beckman had planted in his mind early on, but it made perfect sense. There was more to this than Shanks knew — he wouldn't believe anything else — and he would be damned if he didn't figure out what.

The rest of the night he kept his eyes on you, clinging to the shadows. He was grateful that he was alone, it had made it far easier to avoid detection. He knew he was a wanted man, being spotted would make more difficult to decipher whatever the hell was actually going on.

As he had suspected (and hoped), you barely drank. Even when your soldiers urged you on, you abstained. While those around you were having fun and lowering their guard, you stayed alert. At one point in the night, you caught his eyes. A look of recognition and shock passed by briefly before you turned away, pretending you hadn't seen him.

Throughout it all, his feelings started to become more complex as memories of your time together came flooding back to him. You had been so close. The two of you had gone from best friends to lovers to... nothing. That still stung. Teenage heartbreak had a funny way of sticking around. It was true what they say, how you never forget your first love.

You got more chummy with your fellow marines as the night wore on, and, for some reason, it became harder and harder for him to witness. When one of them slung his arm around you, pulling you close, Shanks felt his temper flare. You were no longer teenagers and you were no longer together, he reminded himself. He had no claim to you and you had no obligation to him, but he couldn't keep watching it.

Shanks left the bar, but he hadn't given up yet. He wasn't going to let you go a second time, at least not until he got some answers.

~~~~~~~

It was all starting to get too much for you; your rowdy comrades were enough on their own, but seeing him again had been the real nail in the coffin. You needed a break from it all and you needed a damn cigarette. You excused yourself and stepped out into the cold night air, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Seeing Shanks on posters and hearing about him all the time at "work" tugged on your heartstrings enough, reigniting a sense of longing. But being in his presence? That was a whole different beast. You still missed him, there was no denying it. A part of your heart never stopped longing for him, even after all this time. He'd been your first...everything. Your naive, idealistic younger self had once thought he'd be your last too. Unfortunately, life had gotten in the way.

The disbandment of the Roger Pirates and your captain’s execution had spelt the end for you two. He’d set out to sea, as you’d always known he would. He had invited you to come with him and you told him you would think about it, but that was the last time you saw him. You ended up wandering for a while before you found yourself in the arms of the Revolutionary Army at its infancy. With your strong ideology it had been a natural progression for you. Plus, you got seasick way too much to be a pirate — ironic now that you were playing the part of a marine.

Lighter in hand and cigarette in mouth, you walked further from the bar and way from the noise. Suddenly, you were yanked into an alleyway as you passed by, met with a question and a pair of familiar eyes. “Since when do you smoke?” Your mouth fell open, cigarette falling to the ground. Shanks. It took everything in you to not reach out an touch him, to confirm that you weren’t dreaming, but the point of contact on your arm had already proven that he was in front of you.

A soft whisper of his name slipped from your lips, and he smiled at you. Shanks had always liked his name in your voice — it had matured with time, but it was still uniquely yours. “Hey, Doll.” Your eyes widened in surprise as you took in the situation. Simply saying his name wouldn’t blow your cover — you were a marine in the New World, of course you would recognize him — but the way your heart was racing might. At least nobody was around to witness it.

God, you hadn’t been this close to him in years; breath intermingling, standing practically chest to chest. It felt almost ridiculous to still be this impacted by him, but you couldn’t help it. How long had these emotions lied dormant? A highlight reel of all your memories with him started playing. You were snapped out of it when he placed his hand on your shoulder and gently called your name — your real one, not the one you had been using.

You needed to pull it together, you couldn’t afford to slip an inch when you had come this far. But, damnit, it was hard. If you were better at this, you probably would’ve raised attention to his presence, like you should have done before. You had to fulfill your role as a good little marine, and a good marine would alert to his presence. But the limit of what you were willing to do only went so far, and you could never bring yourself to hurt him. Any potential consequence to your silence didn’t matter in the moment.

“What the hell happened to you?” Shanks asked, maneuvering his body in a way that would shield you from being visible to people on the street. “Why are you a marine?” His usual easy going voice had been laced with concern and confusion. You wanted to tell him the truth, you wanted to tell him so bad. He had always been your weakness, but you had a job to do.

“Are you okay? Did something happen? Do you need help? Is someone forcing you to do this? Do they have something on you?” His continued on, uncharacteristically worried. As far as Shanks was concerned becoming a marine (especially one that had risen through the ranks) was antithetical to everything you stood for — against your very nature.

He saw the pang of remorse in your expression and realized you wanted to tell him. You weren’t keeping quiet out of fear either, that eased his anxieties. Thinking about it, you had seen him much earlier but you hadn’t done anything about it, and you weren’t now either. It confirmed that you weren’t in this position due a newfound love of the government or a sense of heavy handed justice — you had a motive. It was written all over your face, confirming that you were still you.

For some reason, the reassurance wasn’t enough, he desperately needed to know what the motive was. Shanks knew he shouldn’t push and that it should be enough to know that you were up to something, but that wasn’t stopping him. Shanks tried listing off possible reasons and gauging your reaction, but he was getting nowhere. Either you had become much better at keeping a poker face and hiding your tells or he was severely out of practice when it came to you.

You couldn’t respond or even open your mouth, you knew you could never keep things from him. Shanks had an uncanny ability to read you and figure out what you were hiding — it had annoyed the hell out of you and Buggy growing up, but here it could be harmful. Not that you didn’t trust him, but there were so many unknown variables in the area, you couldn’t trust your surroundings. There was no guarantee that you wouldn’t be overheard or seen. Letting him touch you was dangerous enough, but you were about to do something more risky.

Reaching up, you touched his face, cupping his cheek. Shanks went quiet right away, his breath hitching. It was fascinating to see that you still had that effect on him. Perhaps you weren’t the only one who had spent years being plagued by unresolved feelings, occasionally lying awake thinking of all the “what ifs”.

But this would be your last time seeing him. It had to be. You wanted to soak it all in, remembering everything about him. The universe, however, seemed to hate that idea, calls for you rang out on the street in a drunken chorus. Your unit was looking for you. It was time to go.

~~~~~~~

The next day one of your subordinates had seen members of the Red Hair pirates and had decided to be a big shot about it, picking a fight. It had been really fucking stupid of him to go after members of a Yonko’s personal crew, but he had. And now everyone had to bear the brunt of the consequences. Being dragged into an altercation, especially one involving Shanks and his crew, was something you wanted no part in. Honestly, you wanted to strangle the man for causing such a mess, but you had to act your part.

As the highest ranking official on the island and his superior, you were forced to step in and clean the mess up. The fight had already drawn blood by the time you had been alerted about it, which limited options in how to stop it without losing face. You came to the conclusion that the only way out was through, you just hoped casualties would be limited on either side.

Naturally, and unfortunately, you ended up facing the captain of the crew — a man you knew very well and someone you couldn’t bring yourself to injure. It appeared that Shanks felt the same way. Neither of you were willing to put forth any effort in this fight. It was a dance for than anything. A forced performance.

You were backed into a corner, so close to your objective, but you needed to play it carefully. You knew that you were next in line for a promotion, one that you did not want or need yet. Saying no to the offer would raise eyebrows, so you had been trying to find a way to push back your consideration. It had to be done in a way where you didn’t lose too much prestige either, you were walking a fine line. While you were going through the motions of a fight with Shanks, you were considering your exit strategies. Backing down and withdrawing, while reasonable, would decrease your standing too much. Being defeated however…

Shanks was not worried about his crew at all, he trusted they could handle it, especially considering the state of the marines. What he did know was that you would not be engaging in this if you hadn’t deemed it as necessary, and if that was the case he didn’t mind putting on a show. You were scowling but underneath that was an expression of concentration, you were plotting and scheming. He would’ve smiled at it if it weren’t for the current situation. Watching you come do a decision was something he had always found cute, and that still held true.

With your mind made up and your swords interlocked, you inched closer to the yonko still wearing a forced snarl. “Shanks,” you gritted out with no malice. Calling out his name had him soften ever so slightly, which you used to your advantage. “You need to incapacitate me. I’ll give you an opening and you cut me, okay?”

The man looked at you like you had lost your damned mind, taking a step back but you chased after him. “You need to take me down,” you reiterated, trying to convey your sense of urgency. “What the hell are you on about?” That was your idea? He couldn’t believe that you were asking that of him. “I need you to trust me,” the angry expression on your face was undermined by the plea in your eyes. You glanced around to remind him of the situation, slowly, you watched him understand your reasoning.

The last thing Shanks wanted to do was hurt you, but you had determined that would be the best outcome. He didn’t fully understand why or what you would accomplish by it, but he trusted you. A barely perceivable nod told you that he agreed. You released a sigh of relief and braced yourself for what was to come. With gritted teeth, Shanks raised his sword and brought it down; you allowed the blade to slash you. Your blood splattered onto him and he felt like he was going to be sick. Right away you collapsed to the ground; it was hard for Shanks to know how much of that was acting and how much was his doing.

“I’m sorry,” he told you as he sheathed his sword, not willing to look at you. You thanked him in a strained voice, and weakly rose to your feet. The skirmish was over. He played his part, now you had to play yours.

You ordered a full retreat and to treat the wounded right way -- there was about as many as you had expected, and to your sick sense of satisfaction, the man who started the mess was on the ground. The pirates got away with minor scrapes, but the same could not be said for your side. You could not believe the ego on some of these men for thinking they could go against them

Instead of going to receive treatment for the large gash that was dying your clothes red, you stayed put. Watching Shanks disappear again, reopening the scarred over hole in your heart.

~~~~~~~

Following the shit show of a fight, you had been brought to a marine hospital, where you were currently stuck. The doctors fussed over you almost to the point you wished you'd just died (not really, but wow was it a lot). You had finally been granted some peace and quiet when your transponder snail rang, and not the marine issued one.

"He's asking too many questions." The voice of the Revolutionary Army's chief of staff, Sabo, rang out the moment you picked up. The kid was nothing if not direct. "Get him to stop."

"Not even gonna see if I'm alright," you teased him before he could hang up. "You sound alive to me." The smile in his voice was audible. "Go fix it." With that Sabo cut the call. Without waiting for a response or providing any further information. That damn kid. He had pretty much always been like that, ever since you met him as a child.

It had been risky for him to call you while you were practically in a lion's den, Sabo might be bad at communicating but he wasn't dumb. The fact that he had called you here and now meant that it was a priority — whatever it was that you had to do. You had a pretty good guess as to what that had been about (Shanks), but you wouldn’t draw conclusions with no further details. Either way, you had to make the preparations to set out.

Your doctors had been reluctant to discharge you, but you had managed to convince them with a made up story about your hometown and the threat of pulling rank. You were grateful for your status as a rear admiral, it had made it much easier for you to acquire the supplies you needed for a journey without anyone asking questions. The only thing that raised an eyebrow was asking about an unmarked ship, but you dropped it and chose to rent a civilian one instead.

Once you left the range of the marine’s surveillance capabilities, after completing preparations and setting off, you called headquarters for more information. To your surprise (and relief) you were transferred to Dragon himself, at least he would give you complete answers.

“I heard you got hurt, how badly injured are you?” He asked in place of a greeting. “Not enough to be worried about,” you responded. It was the truth, but you left out the part about how, depending on where you were going and what you were doing, you might have to push yourself. You informed him that you had a couple of weeks of explained and excused absence. You could practically hear the man nod. Before you could ask any clarifying questions about the mission, Dragon spoke.

“He didn’t tell you anything did he?” He sounded tired. Sabo was known for doing that sort of thing. While frustrating at times, you all loved him deeply. Sabo was really smart and dedicated to the cause, which was how he managed to become second in command as a teenager. “No. He just told me to go fix it.” Dragon sighed, muttering something about “that kid,” making you smile.

“Red Hair Shanks is asking around about you, using both names too.” You had figured that was the case, but you were a bit surprised, connecting your name and your alias like that was dangerous. Dragon had a vague knowledge of your history with the man, so he didn’t bother questioning why the pirate would do that.

“You know we can’t have him sniffing around like that. What happens when a yonko asks questions? People find the answer. I don’t need to tell you the consequences, but if we found out he’s doing it, the marines won’t be too far behind, which is why we gotta nip it in the bud. We can’t afford to lose this operation. I don’t know or care why he’s doing it, just get him to stop.”

~~~~~~~

After he’d left, Shanks had been in a mood. One that the majority of the crew had never seen before. He was quieter than usual, drinking more (an accomplishment tbh), and laughing less — it wasn’t that noticeable unless you looked for it, or you were with him 24/7. he wasn't the best at playing it off tbfh. He could manage most of the time, it wasn't too hard, but when he got alone it was worse.

He felt stupid for being this affected by it all. Some of it made sense, like worrying about your well being, but drowning in emotions from over a decade ago? That felt rather pathetic. He supposed that was just what he got for bottling it all up. He had gone as far as stopping talking about you, at one point you were one of his favorite people. Not many people knew what you had meant to him at one point and even less had been around to witness it. It felt wrong to confide in others about the grave he’d dug, so he kept it to himself.

He was in his thirties for fucks sake, he couldn’t be wallowing like a teenager experiencing heartbreak for the first time — he had important things to do — but that’s what it was.

. You had been separated far longer than you had even known each other, he should be alright. But he wasn’t. Everything was so confusing and Shanks had no clue how to sort through it all.

Not only was he stuck dwelling in the unprocessed pain from his youth, which wasn’t fun by itself, but what was worse was the sinking feeling in his stomach that he’d killed you. In his mind he knew that it wasn’t a fatal blow, but he wasn’t entirely sure how he would live with himself if it was. The longer he went without any news on your condition the worse that feeling got.

When he was alerted of a sole, unmarked ship approaching them on the horizon a few days later, he actually thought about if it was worth checking — it was that bad. But he was glad that he did.

He borrowed someone's telescope already set at the right focus (there really was no good way to do that himself anymore) and looked. He thought that he saw you messing with the sail, but that couldn't be right. He passed the telescope to Beckman, who had (annoyingly) been keeping a close eye on him{ the past few days}, and asked the man to describe what he saw. It matched. What the fuck?

A series of emotions washed over Shanks, the man one being relief. He now knew that you were alive, and you were well enough to man a ship solo. The captain kept checking on the ship periodically, just to make sure he was right with what he saw. The closer the vessel came, the more certain he was, and the better he felt. Shanks damn near did a 180, falling back into himself.

~~~~~~~

The first thing Shanks noticed when you were climbing aboard was how you looked damn near green. The sight made him crack a smile. “Still don’t got your sea legs, do ya?” The emperor teased as he helped you over the railing. You let out a short laugh, trying to control the nausea. Hopefully a larger and sturdier ship would make it better. “Is it that obvious?”

You stood on your own two feet, holding strong while you put on a brave face. But he could tell. He always could. Shanks got a better look at you and realized that there was freshly dried blood on your clothes, directly over where he had cut you. Seeing the consequences of his actions like that made him feel uneasy, but it was just like you to open up a wound like that. He sighed and looked you in the eyes. To be honest, you had forgotten about that entirely. You smiled at him sheepishly.

“Glad to see you haven’t changed a bit,” he said before calling out for who you assumed was the ship’s doctor and leading you to a more isolated part of the deck. “It seems you changed a little,” Your eyes flickered from the scars on his eye to where his dominant arm used to be, neither of which had been like that the last you spoke. “S’pose I have,” he said with a smile. He sat you down with your back to the ship before leaning against the railing in front of you.

Without your permission, your eyes scanned the rest of his body, very blatantly checking him out. Shanks raised an eyebrow at the action and you decided to just commit. “I like it. You look good. Like really good.” He laughed at the very conspicuous flirtation. He supposed one thing had changed, you had gotten more bold. “I can say the same to you, Doll. Time’s done you well. ‘M almost jealous.” Shanks said, his smirk widening when you grew flustered by his words. Whatever you were going to say died in your mouth at the arrival of the doctor.

The man hoveredyou over briefly, zoning in on the bloody fabric of your clothes. “What happened?” The doctor asked. “I was bleeding,” you said cheekily. While the man stayed stone faced, Shanks let out a laugh, and you grinned over at him. “I can see that,” the poor doctor sounded tired, like he had to deal with this behavior all the time. “How’d it reopen?”

“The doctors told me to take it “easy” but I guess weathering a storm solo isn’t easy,” you answered, removing bloody shirt. What lied below was your crude attempt at patching yourself back up.

“Darlin’ I could’ve told you that,” Shanks teased. You scrunched your nose back at him, a former habit of yours, causing him to laugh.

Shanks made the mistake of looking directly at the freshly unwrapped injury. He felt sick — knowing he was the one who put you in that state nearly made him ill. He had been feeling guilty for days, even if it wasn’t fatal he still hurt you significantly. Sure, it was far from the worst injury he’d seen (especially with his lifestyle), but it was different this time, because this time it was you. And he did that.

You saw his reaction. This was what you’d been worried about. “Shanks,” you called for his attention. “I’m okay.” The attempt at being reassuring was undercut by the wince from the antiseptic you couldn’t hide. “Seriously,” you said looking him in the eyes, “you helped me out. Thank you”

He didn’t know how you could be thanking him for that, but at your insistence he let it go. With one last look, Shanks swallowed the lump in his throat. “What brings you all the way out here?” He asked.

He wasn’t about to complain at getting the chance to see you again, under better circumstances too, but he also was completely confused on why. It hadn’t escaped him that you were there all by yourself, without your uniform, and how the little ship you had come in on had no trace of government insignia.

Instead of any verbal response, you used your eyes to point to the doctor, who was busy fixing the stitches you’d torn. Shanks nodded, understanding that it was a topic for a more private setting, so he shifted gears. “Tell, what’s new with you?” Also something you couldn’t answered, for the same reasons. You had to refrain from rolling your eyes, opting to shake your head with a smile. You directed the question back onto him. Listening to him tell his stories with a big grin. This. This felt familiar.

When your wound had been cleaned, treated, and redressed, Shanks sent the doctor away with a thanks. He stood up straight and offered you a hand. “Come on, let’s go talk,” he said, pointing to the cabin with his head. You let him help you up and followed behind him, laughing when he snagged a freshly opened bottle out from under someone and continued to walk. “For real?” The man with dreads and a bandana complained as if it was a common occurrence, which would not surprise you. “Sorry, Yasopp, I’ll give it back to you later.” Shanks responded, raising the bottle above his head. “Yeah, empty,” the man grumbled to himself. A loud laugh from the captain confirmed that that would indeed be the case.

Shanks led you through the ship, opening the door to his office while still holding the bottle with ease. Clearly it was a skill he had a lot of practice in lol. He held the door for you, shutting it behind him.

“You still on duty, Rear Admiral?” He asked. You made a gagging noise at the title, “Don’t remind me.” His grin grew at your reply, he had known that was out of character for you. Typically, you would never dream of displaying this kind of contempt for your position outside of the Army’s headquarters, but you trusted this man with your life so your usual regulations were loosened. “—Or can I offer you a drink?” He continued, shanking the open bottle in his hand, spilling some in the process. “Shit,” he said automatically, pouting at the loss [it’d be funny if he licked his hand bc so real bro]. “Yeah, sure,” you laughed.

You sat down at the desk and watched Shanks. The posters hadn’t done him justice. He was rummaging around in cabinets, looking for some glasses (because this man cared about portion sizes lol). It was almost surreal to see him again. To be able to hear his voice, his laugh, his breathing, to see his smile and the way his eyes sparkled, to be able to smell him — all things you had thought had been long lost to your memory. You pinched yourself to double check that this was really happening. The reset, while confirming you were not dreaming, set you back on track. This was not a personal visit, no matter how much you wanted it to be. You had a set of obligations to fulfill and responsibilities to uphold.

“Look… Shanks…” You started, capturing his attention and interrupting his pouring into the glasses he had just found. “You have to stop asking around about me.” You couldn’t bring yourself to include how you should never try to contact each other either — at least while you remained undercover and the time table for that was unclear.

Shanks pursed his lips and nodded. A moment of silence passed and he poured out the next glass. “I figured that’s why you came,” he admitted, sounding defeated as he slid a full glass of whatever he’d just poured across the desk to you. “What are you even doing there?” He asked, falling into his chair.

This time, the silence was your fault. You were trying to determine how much you could let him know. Shanks sighed and set his already emptied cup down. “The Revolutionary Army or pirates?” “W-what are you talking about?” Calmly, he refiled his glass, focused on how the liquid fell. “Who are you working for? No way in hell your loyalty lies with the World Government.” He said looking you in the eyes and downing his drink.

He knew? Of course he knew. You should have known. You were practically an open book to him.

“Army.”

“I figured,” he smiled, refilling both your glasses.

~~~~~~~

Over halfway through the bottle the conversation had gotten more relaxed. Over time, you had naturally moved closer together, now, you were barely a foot apart. Shanks sat on top of the desk, his foot mindlessly toying with your shin. His eyes shinned as you recounted some of the countless tales you had acquired since you last spoke. You hadn’t realized how the man hung onto your every word.

When it was his turn to play storyteller, you were just as attentive. You took in his words eagerly, occasionally offering some of your own. It just felt right — so much had changed, but yet so little.

The kids you had known each other as no longer existed, you had both seen some shit and gotten rougher around the edges, but traces of them lingered. Shanks still had the same magnetic personality you’d always known, and the smile that you used to dream about, the one that had a history of making your knees weak. The damned heart of yours had been skipping beats like a child on the playground. It was all very strange. You had never thought you’d feel that way again, but that was something for you to deal with another day. Now, now, you wanted to stay in the moment before it faded away.

Shanks was deep into recounting how he met people on his crew and how long it had taken to convince one of them to join [yasopp waited like 10 years or something lol] You leaned in, looking up at him, wide eyes bright — it was a sight that shouldn’t be as breathtaking as it was. He nearly faltered, but managed to power through. You had always had that effect on him and he doubted you even knew.

A first relationship, like yours, was bound to be rocky with ineffective communication and struggling to understand feelings. When you had unofficially departed there had been many things left unsaid. At the time, he hadn’t known he wouldn’t see you again, maybe if he had he would have said something different, but at the same time he’d just been a stupid kid. It had taken time to understand what you had and what he’d lost. Truthfully, he had never let himself realize the full extent of how much he had missed you.

The worst part of it all was knowing that it couldn’t last. He understood that you had a life of your own and duties to fulfill, just like he did. Shanks knew full well that he wouldn’t fit in the picture, and he told himself that he was fine with that, but why did it hurt?

Your words trailed off in the middle of sharing a story about the formation of the Revolutionary Army with Shanks. “You can’t look at me like that,” you told him, your voice low and guarded. “Like what?” He had no idea how he had been looking at you. “Like you still want me,” your voice had weakened, a vulnerability had crept in. The response took him by surprise but he recovered quickly.

“Would that really be so bad?”

He was right… would it really be so bad?

few quick things: i love sillies who don't know how to deal with emotions in a healthy productive way, i have made the executive decision that their love is like riding a bike, you never forget it, also i totally cried writing this lmao, my bad

i love you all and thank you for reading, don't forget to drink water and have a good day (or go to sleep idk)

masterlist | silly things | directory

#pretty sure this is my first request too so that's exciting #shanks x reader #one piece x reader #x reader #canon post #request #shanks x y/n #shanks x you #gn reader

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kiwriteswords · 5 months ago

Note

I love the way the marriage of convenience fic turned out!! If you write more about that I will gladly read it! Thb I'm getting obsessive about it 😂

You set it up so well and I have so many questions about what could happen next and what is going through everyone's mind. 😁🥳

Like a Feather [Aaron Hotchner x Reader x Marriage Contract]

Masterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 3k|| AN: Thank you for requesting this!! I'm so glad you liked the first one! I'm loving this universe. Trying to navigate how I can make them all flow cohesively without feeling like you need to read them in order. Would love to see more requests for this universe! I feel like I could take it in so many directions! Tags/Warnings: female reader, marriage of convenience, contracted marriage, canon-typical themes, flirty!reader, bold!reader, girly-girl!reader, non-bau!reader, stressed!hotch, mentions of Jack Hotchner, mentions of Haley Hotchner, Traumatized!Hotch, can be read solo if you realize they're forced to live together and are technically married. Summary: For your own safety, you're forced to marry and live with Aaron Hotchner, but his apartment just won't do.

When you’re told, you need to marry a political figure’s daughter to protect her. It could go a million-and-two ways wrong.

When Strauss and every single bureaucratic name stood before Hotch and assigned him of this--so-called, task--he thought of each way this could have gone utterly wrong.

But living with a complete stranger wasn't as bad as it sounded.

Jack took a liking to you quickly. Your past volunteering at children's hospitals and with struggling youth was more than just keeping up political appearances. There was a fun and nurturing side to you that Hotch was glad.

Jack is always and has always been his first priority when this assignment was sprung upon him. How would this affect him? So seeing that it was only helping or aiding in his upbringing, even temporarily, Hotch would take it.

What Hotch did notice is every day he would come home from the BAU, and things would look a wee bit different.

It started with the curtains.

He had long panels that did the job of keeping light out, but one day, he came home, and you had added frills bordering his windows. The once stark and utilitarian drapes now fluttered with soft, feminine edges that seemed to dance lightly with the breeze.

He didn't mention anything, but a week later, there were the throw pillows. What was the point in pillows that took up the entirety of the sofa that you would move just to sit on? They had buttons and cream-colored trim on them, sitting plump across the couch, asserting their presence in every available space.

He went along, noticing more and more touches of you throughout his apartment.

Floral arrangements in vases on every surface added bursts of color where none had been before. A shrubby wreath with a giant bow now adorned the front door, greeting him with an almost jarring cheerfulness each day.

The bathroom's once beige shower curtain was now replaced with a yellow gingham pattern that screamed sunshine, transforming a previously muted space into one that could rival a sunny day in a meadow.

Your bedroom became a reflection of the woman you were--bright and loud, but it began to seep outside of the rest of Hotch's apartment.

Each new addition, each piece of you that filled up his space, was like a small declaration that this arrangement was becoming more real than either of you might have initially expected. The stark lines and muted tones of his world were slowly being overrun by a storm of femininity, each frill and floral arrangement a soft but undeniable takeover of the life he had meticulously organized.

This was no longer just his and Jack’s sanctuary; it was a shared existence, vivid and continuously surprising, much like you.

One day, as Hotch came home from a grueling day at the BAU, he was mentally ready to unwind.

He placed his briefcase by the door and headed straight for the cabinet to pour himself a finger or two of whiskey--a small ritual that marked the transition from his work life to whatever semblance of personal life he could muster under the current circumstances.

As he reached for a glass, he paused, sensing an unusual commotion at the entrance. Turning around, he saw two burly security guards maneuvering through his doorway, carefully balancing a Tiffany lamp between them. The sight of these stern men handling such a dainty, stained glass-colored item was incongruous enough to leave Hotch momentarily dumbstruck.

He had become familiar with the two men--your bodyguards that followed you even before this crisis at hand, but they often remained quiet. Taking shifts at the front door of the apartment.

The part of Hotch that was riddled with trauma and overthought every move for his son was silently grateful for the added protection for his family as well, but seeing them like this? They didn’t seem like the type of men who could fend off a fly with the way they so awkwardly manhandled the delicate glass.

He watched, eyebrows raised, as you directed them with a flurry of indecisiveness. "There...no, there," you called out from across the room, pointing first to one corner and then another, clearly struggling to find the perfect spot for the new addition.

Hotch's curiosity overcame his initial reserve, and he approached, asking, "What's the lamp for when we already have"--he paused to make a quick inventory--"five perfectly good working light fixtures?"

You placed your hands on your hips, your expression mixing defiance and a hint of amusement. "This lamp is not just functional; it’s beautiful and decorative," you explained with a firm nod, as if that settled the matter.

Hotch glanced at the lamp, then around the room at the various changes you had implemented since moving in. "I've noticed all of the little touches," he acknowledged, his voice neutral but his mind reeling from the rapid feminization of his previously stark and only functional space

You gave him a faux pout, a playful challenge in your eyes. "Don’t you like it?"

"It’s not that I don’t like it," Hotch started, searching for the right words that wouldn’t offend. "It’s just very...” His voice trailed off, words like 'girly' and 'feminine' hanging on the tip of his tongue, but he opted for a safer, "different from what I’m used to."

He’d like to tell you that this wasn’t the set for some Better Homes & Gardens photoshoot, but he figured he’d keep that to himself.

You quickly interjected, a hint of seriousness underlining your playful tone. "This place was a home to two men before I was forced to move here, and now I'm being forced to live here. A little warmth never killed anybody, you know." Your voice softened, reminding both of you of the odd circumstances that had thrown your lives together in this compact, evolving space.

Hotch took a moment, the tension in his shoulders easing as he considered your perspective. The lamp, with its colorful glass and intricate metalwork, suddenly didn’t seem like just an intrusion of your taste into his life, but more like a symbol of the blending that was slowly, inevitably happening between your worlds.

"Alright," he conceded with a small, conceding smile, "let’s find the perfect spot for it together."

As you both moved to adjust the lamp, Hotch realized that these small concessions, these little adjustments to his environment, were not just about accommodating you, but about finding a way to coexist peacefully, respectfully, and maybe even harmoniously under the most unusual circumstances.

His apartment had purely served a place for he and Jack to rest their head at the end of the day. Most of the decor were things that he had leftover from his home with Haley--mostly things that weren’t painful to look at. Various photos, trinkets, and books. But that was about it.

His idea of art was the sailboats Jack loved to paint or color. The walls were the same brown color from when he purchased this apartment years before. Everything about it was purely functional. Not frill or unnecessary bit about it.

He hated to think, in some ways, you might be forcing him to finally greet this part of him that he’d prefer to keep in a metaphorical storage box on a shelf somewhere.

---

Hotch walked into the BAU the next day, his demeanor as serious as ever, but with an unusual addition--a feather lodged in his hair. He began to present the new case in the roundtable room, fully focused on the task at hand, unaware of the curious artifact adorning his head.

JJ, always observant, interrupted him mid-sentence. “Hotch, come here for a second,” she beckoned with a slight smile, motioning him closer. Confused but compliant, Hotch approached, and she delicately plucked the feather from his hair, holding it up for him and the rest of the team to see.

The team erupted in a mixture of laughter and bewildered expressions. “What is that?” Morgan asked, trying to stifle his chuckle.

Hotch let out a deep sigh, the kind that spoke volumes before words even formed. “It’s from the new throw pillows on my couch,” he explained, a trace of agitation seeping into his voice. “Feather-filled. I fell asleep there last night.”

Emily quickly chimed in, her tone half teasing, half serious. “Woah, woah, woah, you can't complain when this girl was ripped from her life--”

Morgan interrupted with a smirk, “--a very cushy life,” emphasizing the luxury she was used to, “to live with Mr. Functional here.”

Hotch opened his mouth to argue, his brow furrowing in frustration, but Spencer was quick to add his perspective, “I’ve seen Hotch’s apartment, and they’re right. It’s about as warm and welcoming as an interrogation room.”

The team’s laughter filled the room, but beneath the humor, there was a palpable sense of camaraderie and support. Hotch, realizing the futility of his frustration in the face of their united front, let out another sigh, this time softer, conceding the point.

“Alright, alright,” Hotch conceded, a small smile breaking through his usually stoic facade. “Maybe a few feathers aren’t the worst thing in the world.”

---

Returning from a local case that had wrapped up, Hotch walked back into his office without a thought, ready to sink into the routine of paperwork that awaited him. The room was dim, shrouded in the early evening gloom that only the setting sun breached through the slats of the blinds. As he moved to switch on the light, his hand paused mid-air when he noticed a figure reclining on his couch. It was you.

"What are you doing here?" His tone carried an edge, the surprise mixing with a flicker of irritation as he flicked on the light, flooding the room with stark brightness.

You sat up, blinking against the sudden light, your voice tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "I was bored at your apartment," you explained. "It’s lonely there, and this was the only place my bodyguards agreed I could go for a change of pace."

Hotch closed the door with a soft click and set his briefcase down with a heavier thud. The lines of his face were drawn tight, his mind racing through the security protocols and the weight of the responsibility he bore. "You know it's not just about boredom," he started, his voice firm as he leaned against his desk, facing you. "The threats against you are real and severe. We've already seen what they’re capable of. People have been injured, some killed. This isn’t a game."

Your expression softened, regret flickering across your features. "I know, Hotch. I do," you replied quietly. "It's just...hard, feeling so cut off from everything and everyone."

Hotch sighed, the initial resistance in his posture easing slightly, though his expression remained serious. "I understand that it’s difficult," he conceded, his tone softening. "But taking risks by moving around isn’t the solution. We need to ensure your safety, and sometimes that means making hard choices--choices that might not be the most comfortable."

You nodded slowly, absorbing his words, but a hint of rebellion lingered in your eyes. There was a pause, a charged moment where the gravity of the situation seemed to hang heavily between you. "I get it," you said finally, your tone a mix of acceptance and frustration. "I just wish there was a way to make this feel less like a prison."

Hotch straightened, his expression stern as he considered your words. He understood the isolation you felt; he’d seen it many times in witness protection situations, the toll it took on individuals. Yet, he couldn’t compromise on your safety.

"We might find a balance," he suggested cautiously, his voice firm. "We can explore safe activities, perhaps more interaction with approved personnel, or even secure outings. I’ll discuss options with the team--see what arrangements we can make to keep you engaged but protected."

Your face brightened slightly, a spark of hope igniting in your eyes. "Thank you, Hotch," you said, a genuine smile briefly touching your lips for the first time since the conversation began.

"As for being here," Hotch continued, his tone still carrying an edge of authority, recognizing the need for rules even within this concession, "you’re welcome to stay in the office whenever necessary, as long as it’s coordinated. We’ll set some ground rules, make it work."

You nodded, relief apparent but quickly tempered by a sharp retort. "I’d appreciate that, really. And frankly, this place might be a fortress compared to your apartment," you quipped, challenging him with a playful yet piercing look. "Plus, your entertainment setup is tragic. Have you ever heard of When Harry Met Sally? It’s a classic, and you don’t even have it. What kind of living situation is this?"

Hotch raised an eyebrow, the challenge in your tone bringing a small, wry smile to his face. "I wasn’t aware that my DVD collection would be under review," he responded dryly. "I’ll make sure to update my library to meet your standards."

As Hotch watched you settle back onto the couch, the interaction had sparked a realization in him. This wasn't just about providing security; it was about accommodating a life--not just any life, but one thrust into his care under extraordinary circumstances.

He didn’t know it yet, but you were teaching him a whole new way to look at life.

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