#same nightmare every single time. so i lost A LOT of sleep avoiding it like the plague

[isa-ah]

i have formally and officially entered the loop. sigh.

[dancingamongstdust]

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 1)

Ben Drowned

You had promised, sworn on your very life, that you wouldn’t laugh. It was an oath. One to be taken very seriously.

“Using your hand to muffle the sound still counts as laughing.”

Part of you felt really bad but that made you snicker even harder. Your best friend, at the very least, did appear extremely shaken about the entire thing. She sat on the edge of the couch with her arms crossed. Dark bags had formed beneath her eyes and her attention seemed unable to stray from the Nintendo 64 that sat between you.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “But you have to understand how this sounds. You’re telling me that you’re being haunted by a literal video game.”

She pulled her legs to her chest. The amount of weight that she had lost recently couldn’t possibly be healthy. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Have you considered talking to a psychiatrist?” you offered. “Or perhaps selling this game?”

“He would kill me.”

You picked up the Nintendo 64 and stared at the main menu of the game. It looked pretty normal to you. You fiddled around with the settings to turn the music down. “I really think that talking to somebody about this would help.”

“That’s what you don’t understand,” she said. “I want to stop playing. I want to speak to people but all that he wants is for me to continue trying to beat the game. There’s no way to win! The entire thing is rigged!”

“Have you looked up a guide?”

She groaned. “Nobody’s going to listen to me.”

An awkward silence fell over the room and you shifted around in your seat before offering some coffee. She accepted but the kettle had barely been boiling for a few seconds when her phone chimed happily.

“Oh look, he wants to play now,” she muttered. She thrust the device to you. “Take a look for yourself.”

The notification had come through an app called CleverBot. It was a very simple ‘hi’ message that didn’t really seem all too haunting. You opened it up and clicked around the app for a little. “Looks like just a chatroom,” you said. “Why’d you download this?”

“I didn’t. I just woke up the one day and it was on my phone.”

You closed the app and returned to the home screen. It immediately reopened and the same message popped up again. An identical thing happened the second time. And then again.

“This looks like a virus,” you said. “It’s probably best to uninstall.”

Clicking on the button made the icon disappear for a short while but it was quick to reappear. This time, when the chatroom opened itself, the message had changed to simply say ‘rude’.

You pursed your lips. That was suspicious enough for you to understand her potential worries. “I don’t think that it’s haunted but you should probably take it to a professional to have it wiped or something. And maybe consider less porn in the future?”

Your joke fell flat but it died when the chatbot began typing. Not too long after, another message had come through.

‘I don’t hang out in such places.’

“Can…” you trailed off. “No, there’s no way that they’ve hacked the microphone, right?”

‘Don’t need to hack in to hear what you’re saying.’

The colour drained from your face and you quickly glanced towards your friend. She didn’t seem panicked, even when you showed her the message. If anything, her expression was resigned as though this was a regular occurrence.

You didn’t get too much time to respond when a horrible static sound came through her phone. The screen began flashing and blurry images raced across it. A distorted version of the Majora’s Mask theme song started playing. It felt like your ears were bleeding. Scared, you threw the phone to the floor and, with a shattering crack, everything stopped.

For a while, you stared at it but then she said, “He’s going to be pissed with that.”

There was a chime from somewhere on your right. Your own phone’s screen lit up. Nervously, you reached over to check on it.

A single notification stood there, from an app called CleverBot.

‘You Shouldn’t Have Done That.”

Bloody Painter

The park was busy this time of day and filled with an awaiting audience – whether they were interested in watching the performance or not. Many seemed to appreciate it though, taking the flyers handed out by your group.

It was nearing midday when you ran out of pamphlets. You stretched and pushed your hair away from your face, relishing in the feeling of sun against skin.

Your gaze drifted across the park’s patrons before settling on one that you had been watching since the beginning of your performance. He didn’t look up much. A sketchpad sat on his lap and tousled brown hair hung over his face. You hadn’t caught his attention once but he had certainly kept yours.

“Can you hand me another lot of flyers?” you asked one of the other girls with her.

She handed them over and you put on your best grin before making your way to the tree he was sitting under.

He looked up when your shadow fell over his sketchbook. His work was considerably abstract and nothing that you could identify with ease. There weren’t too many colors though.

“Hello!” you greeted cheerily. “I don’t mean to bother but what did you think of the show?”

He blinked up at you. “I didn’t see it.”

The man was a master of deadpan but you didn’t allow your smile to drop. You lowered the flyer and sighed, “That’s a shame. It’s so rare that we have attractive people at our shows… you should consider coming to our actual performances sometime. Everybody loves musicals.”

He didn’t even react to the compliment. No smirk or even a blush. It was as though you hadn’t spoken one word.

“I’ve seen your face before,” he said. “You do this kind of thing quite often. Don’t you get tired of people staring at you?”

You chuckled. “I wouldn’t be in this line of business if I was too self-conscious. When they stare for too long, I like to imagine that it’s because I’m the most beautiful person they’ve ever seen.” Running your fingers through your hair, you offered him your most dazzling smile. “And if you remember me, that’s a certain compliment.”

“You can take it whatever way you want but it doesn’t mean anything.”

It was tempting to give up. Flirting with cute boys was only entertaining when they responded with… something. This boy just stared.

“So you’re an artist, right? You’d have a good point of view on whether or not I’m actually pretty.”

“My opinions on people are rarely accurate.”

His response made you uncomfortable, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. Something of a warning twisted in your stomach. A light had lit behind his eyes but it didn’t seem like something you wanted to tie yourself to.

It appeared it was time to give up your pursuit. “Well, I really should get going. Perhaps I’ll see you at the next performance.”

His eyes drifted to the pamphlet that you held. “Were you planning on giving me that?”

“Offering it but you don’t have to –“

“I’ll take it,” he said, putting down his pencil and holding out his hand. “Your show wasn’t too entertaining but I enjoyed watching the performance you just put on. Rather like a peacock strutting its feathers.”

So he wasn’t oblivious then… just teasing. You had no idea if it showed his genuine interest or if he was merely taunting now.

With a slight scowl, you passed it over. He tucked it into his sketchbook and then closed it, standing up. He was scrawnier than you had anticipated but he still had a considerable height – holding at least a few inches over you.

“Thank you,” you said.

He left without another word. You rolled your eyes and made a point to ignore any thoughts about him for the rest of the day. Perhaps you shouldn’t have given him your information… after all, that flyer had your full name and everything.

And you knew absolutely nothing about him.

Candy Pop

Hospitals were the worst places in the world.

They smelled too clean and looked too false. You generally avoided them as much as possible unless it was absolutely necessary. When a close family member found themselves locked within the walls, unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to stay away.

You wrinkled your nose as you walked into the room. The sterilized smell burnt you.

Most of it was what you had expected but the young, child-like scream made you jump and nearly drop every gift you were holding.

Your aunt jumped up from her chair beside the hospital bed. “What’s wrong?!” she asked, fussing over your cousin.

She was barely over eleven and had badly injured her leg during a biking competition. Your mom had told you that everybody in the family was going to visit her, encouraging you to go together in order to drop off some gifts.

“I’m sorry,” the little girl said quickly. “I don’t like balloons and I thought… it doesn’t matter. Sorry.”

You moved them behind you a little, trying to block her line of sight. “No, no, I should have asked first. You could have been allergic to latex or something and then I’d be feeling really bad about it.”

“She’s been particularly on edge thanks to these awful nightmares,” your aunt explained.

“Nightmares?” you asked.

The little girl seemed pale at its mention, pulling her blanket up to her nose and watching everybody wearily. “They’re just bad dreams,” she said. “You said that they couldn’t hurt me.”

Her mother hurriedly rubbed her shoulder and offered a warm smile. “They definitely can’t,” she reassured.

“Are they about the fall?” you asked.

“Sometimes.”

You settled down in one of the chairs as your own mother began speaking to her sister. They were able to discuss everything from the colour of grass to what they thought would be the best country to live in. You weren’t particularly interested in what they were saying and, after a while of trying to chirp in, you just let the lack of sleep catch up to you.

Your dreams came to you quickly, faster than usual and sharp in an uncomfortable sort of way.

You found yourself standing in a large field. The sky was grey and the grass tall enough to reach your knees. Everything felt bright. It hurt your eyes to stare at anything for too long.

Normally, dreams didn’t feel as such, but you were certain that this was one. There was no purpose to where you were. No inclination to walk in a specific direction or try to understand what was happening.

Just confusion.

You took a step forward and a soft wind wrapped around you. It brushed through the grass, dancing around the trees. Something was watching.

You turned and two, glowing lights floated above the ground.

Slowly, mist gathered around the two spots. As you stepped back, it began to solidify – quickly forming a more recognisable shape. The figure tilted its head to the side and a slight jingling sound filled the air. It stepped forward then and the glow faded from its eyes, revealing just what stood before you.

He was a jester, though certainly more modern than the old king’s versions. Blue hair hung around his shoulders and his entire outfit jingled with hundreds of bells. A smile graced his face and he stepped forward.

You moved away.

His smile disappeared and his eyes narrowed. The mist appeared again and he vanished into it.

You looked around frantically. He was gone. The wind picked up unexpectedly, howling in your ears. You raised your hands to shield your face and something grabbed your wrist. Before you could turn to see, you hurdled away from the meadow and awoke spluttering for air.

“Are you alright?” your aunt asked.

In the corner of your eye, you swore you saw a blue jester but, when you turned to look, he was gone. “Yeah,” you said, rubbing your chest. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Your made eye contact with your cousin and swallowed thickly. The look on her face said it all.

Clockwork

Every night, without fail, you saw her sitting there when you arrived home from work.

She always wore the same thing and, initially, you had thought that she would play on her phone for hours at a time. It didn’t appear that she had a phone, however, as you came to realise. Whatever she was holding was circular and fit perfectly within the palm of her hand.

You mentioned it to the building manager the second time she was there until like two in the morning. He had said that they thought she was homeless but, as far as they could tell, she wasn’t dangerous. You reassured him that your worries weren’t about her presence due to any perceived problem but he had just nodded.

She never moved while she was waiting. Not even to adjust her weight or brush the hair from her face.

A few of your neighbours used the very eloquent reasoning that she was merely crazy.

Occasionally, you heard children from the area parroting their parents. Rumours abound that she was a ghost who would attack anybody if they spoke to her. You scoffed each time it was said but many believed the stories.

You were arriving home late one night when you spotted her sitting in the usual spot. It was strange for you to feel anything beyond exhaustion on the nights when hospital jobs ran too long but this time, a strange anticipation settled itself in your stomach.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Are you okay?”

Her hair was dirty and her coat looked as though it hadn’t been washed for years. Now that you were close, you could make out what appeared to be dried blood on her shirt.

“Go away,” she said, shaking her head from side to side.

“I have medical experience,” you responded. “And I know some good places to stay in the area. I can –“

“Good for you,” she sneered. “Leave me alone. You’re going to make me miss it.”

The object she was holding was an old pocket watch. It looked like something you would find in an antique store and pay insane amounts of money for. Though, it didn’t appear to be working. The clock hands sat at a set time and didn’t move in the slightest.

“I want to help you if that’s okay,” you said.

She forced out a laugh that sounded as though it physically pained her. “You want to help me?!” she cackled, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “Isn’t that sweet.”

You stumbled away from her and clasped a hand over your mouth. Her face…

Her mouth was torn to pieces, jagged cuts that ripped through the skin there and had been crudely stitched back together. But that wasn’t the worst. No, the worst part of it was her left eye that had a pocket watch shoved into the socket and forcefully stitched there. The injury flared red with infection and pain.

“What’s wrong little doctor?!” she cawed. “No longer feeling like saving the poor girl you found on the side of the road?”

You steeled your resolve and straightened. “I’m still willing to offer help if you need it,” you said in your strongest voice. “That injury is severe and needs attending to if you want to save the eye.”

The eye was definitely gone and she knew it as well, scoffing at your offer. “No chance of that. Why do you people like pretending that you care?”

“I do care.”

She responded with a mocking expression and stood unexpectedly. “Sure you do.” She tapped the front of the pocket watch with her nail. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get to work. I nearly missed it thanks to your nagging. I’ll see you tomorrow, doctor.”

And she marched off into the night.

Dark Link

The vase that you were holding was beautifully polished and almost brand new. As you lifted it, something rattled around within.

“Why are you selling this for such a low price?” you asked.

The woman was middle-aged with a falsely high voice and bright, darting eyes. “It was a gift,” she said. “But I decided against keeping it. I wasn’t sure how low the price should be but it’s not like I’m losing any money.”

You decided against buying it, thanking her and walking away quickly. While you were looking through a few pieces of jewelry, your arm was grabbed and a small object pushed into your chest.

“Here you go!” you friend chimed. “Consider it to be a late birthday present!”

You took the game cartridge and examined it closely. “Zelda, again?” you asked. “I’ve already tell you that –“

“Yes, yes, I know that they’re not your thing but if you haven’t tried all the games then how are you meant to know there isn’t just one that you like?”

Sighing, you took the game and dropped it into your purse. It was dirty and definitely well used. A bit of black paint flaked off on your fingers.

Another game for you to keep in your cupboard and not look at again until months later when you were asked about your opinion on it. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t have the console you needed and the simple answer of ‘just buy one for cheap’ wasn’t always available.

But in the coming weeks, you quickly realised that this wasn’t just another game.

At first, the things that went wrong were too minor to even pay attention to. Electronics started breaking frequently until the point where you had replaced your stereo twice in a week and no longer had a television. After that, you started feeling sickly and uncomfortable whenever you were in the house. A feeling of imposing nature settled upon your shoulders.

You spent more time away from home, staying away for as long as you could. When you tried to dogsit for your brother, the pup wouldn’t even enter the house.

It was late at night when you woke up in a cold sweat. Nausea coiled in your stomach and your heart was beating at the speed of light.

At first, you had no idea what had woken you.

And then you heard the rattling.

It was coming from the next room over. As though somebody had taken hold of your desk and was shaking it as roughly as they could.

You scrambled for your phone but it wasn’t there. It was sitting in your office.

You took a deep breath and slowly stepped from your bed. Your head felt fuzzy, as though you weren’t able to wake up properly. Every step was slow and lethargic.

Stumbling toward the door, you gingerly grabbed the handle. As you opened it, your mind caught up with your body and you remembered that you shouldn’t just burst in on a potential invader.

But it was too late.

The person, for it had to be a person, stood in the middle of the room. Its body was so dark that it blended in with the shadows surrounding it. Two bright red eyes shone, illuminating enough that it showed some of the creatures ashen features. It had sharp features that were definitely human. Though as you stared at it, you knew that it was anything but.

It smiled and began turning into small squares, pixelating into the air and disappearing into something behind it.

You flicked on the light as fast as you could but it was gone. Sitting in the middle of the desk, the black cartridge seemed to emit its own darkness.

Dr. Smiley

The building was beyond restoration, crumbling and derelict. You were sure that it hadn’t been occupied for at least a decade. Perhaps even longer.

For months now, you had been going through the motions to have everything approved and organised. You had gotten clearance, hired the workers, discussed things with any neighbours, and even paid extra for the best machinery to get everything done quicker.

And now they were refusing to do anything.

“I’m sorry, and I will compensate for the time wasted, but my men are saying no,” the on-site manager said. “I know you’re not from these parts but we’ve always known there’s something wrong with this building. Rumours and superstitions abound and I wouldn’t blame my men for not wanting to anger a ghost.”

“They’ll be pissing off something far worse than a ‘ghost’ if they continue refusing to even go in there,” you snapped.

He glanced towards his workers and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Once he left, you turned your attention to the house. Why anybody would have wanted a house in this location was beyond you but now that you had inherited it, you could see potential.

Although the entire place was probably crawling with all manners of disgusting flora.

Perhaps you could use that to get the health counsel to do the job for you.

They will still talking and you could see the weariness on their faces. Sighing, you stalked your way to the front door and pushed it open with one hand. It creaked with the effort.

You stood with your hands out towards the men. “I’m going to walk this entire house!” you called. “And if your ghost doesn’t accost me while I’m there, then I’m going to be expecting you to all get on with it, alright?”

Nothing immediately jumped at you when you entered. The door struggled to open and it swung shut on its own accord. If that was the haunting that they were talking about…

A roach skittered along the floor in front of you, darting under a derelict sofa stained with an unknown substance. Several of the windows had been broken so it wasn’t surprising to find that graffiti and markers had been used to etch various names into the walls.

You walked through a destroyed kitchen, passed a bedroom with a smashed crib, and even kicked open a door that led to a filthy storage room.

No ghost jumped out at you.

Problems started presenting themselves when you walked down one of the hallways and pushed open a bedroom door. The entire room felt set apart from the rest of the place with almost-new curtains that had been drawn shut. Blankets covered the bed, dirty but still there. You immediately thought somebody may be squatting there but your concerns changed when you noticed the wall.

Black mold. It crawled its way up the side, covering most of what had once been white wallpaper. You brought one hand up to shield your mouth and stepped out, slamming the door closed.

If there was an infestation then you had to get the health department immediately. This was –

Your thoughts were interrupted by something grabbing you. Panic filled your mind as a sharp weapon was pressed against your throat.

“Well now, I just know that you don’t have an appointment,” a voice said close to your ear. “I don’t like trespassers.”

Thinking on instinct, you threw your head backwards as hard as you could. There was a satisfying impact followed by a loud yelp of pain. The weapon around your throat moved away so you kicked the guy in the shin and bolted for it.

The house felt bigger while you were running but nobody came after you. You didn’t hear any footsteps or other sounds of a chase.

Bursting through the front door, you winced at the bright light. The house hadn’t seemed nearly that dark until compared to the outside.

You collided with one of the workers in your rush and nearly knocked everybody to the ground.

“What’s happened?”

“It was that ghost, I’m telling you.”

“We warned her, boss.”

You cleared your throat and straightened up, making eye contact with each man individually. “There is no ghost,” you said. “Only a squatter who I shall deal with using police force if needed. However, I do believe any construction will have to wait because I saw an excessive spread of black mold within the house.”

They all spoke amongst themselves, discussing options. You glanced back to the house and allowed your attention to find its way to the bedroom window. Though fleeting, a masked face peered out at you from within.

Eyeless Jack

In many ways, what happened that night was your boss’ fault.

Having just finished working a double shift that ended at almost 1 in the morning, you were exhausted upon returning home. You walked past the neighbouring apartment with only one thought on your mind – sleep.

It was then that you heard a thump coming from within the house, followed shortly by a muffled scream.

Tired, you had to pause to register what was happening and, by the time your brain caught up, your heart was in full-on panic mode. You slowly reached into your pocket and dialed the emergency number as slowly as you dared, whispering into the phone and being reassured that a police presence would be arriving shortly.

Your neighbour was a young man though, just out of rehab and beginning to make his way through life. The longer you stood and waited for the police, the guiltier you felt.

So you reached into the pot plant and pulled out his spare key. After a short while of building yourself up, you unlocked the door and crept inside.

It was dark with the outside world shrouded via heavy curtains. You could barely make your way through the unfamiliar apartment and you didn’t dare turn on the light. Damn, you were extremely tired.

Part of your brain suggested that you had imagined the whole thing. It was a byproduct of a sleep-addled mind or something. That would be embarrassing to explain to the police and to your neighbour. Would you get charged for breaking and entering or could you blame it on your tiredness?

Your doubts didn’t get much further than that because somebody grabbed you from within the room.

A horrible iron-filled scent attacked your senses as you took in the bedroom. It looked like your neighbour was tied to the bed though he wasn’t moving. Somebody stood behind you, their breathing heavy and their grip strong.

They pushed your wrist closer to your back, preventing you from wriggling free of their grip. A blade, small and yet sharp, pressed against the side of your throat.

“Trying to play the hero, are we?” snarled a voice. “Have you called the cops?”

The blade pressed against your skin and you quickly spat out a yes.

“Probably right before you came in, if not earlier… I’d have enough time to kill you but then you’d be an absolute waste. Nowhere to stash a body around here and they’d comb the entire area if you were missing…”

“I didn’t mean –“

You were shoved forward before you had a chance to react. In the dark, you couldn’t make anything out and you hit the wall unexpectedly. Now, far enough away, you turned and tried to make out the face of your assailant. He melded in with the shadows and you ran your fingers along the wall until you found a light switch.

The lights flickered on and you gasped.

He wore a dark blue mask, a black ooze dripping from the eye sockets and onto his hoodie. There was no reaction to the lights. Not even a blink.

“Don’t you want to beg for your life?” he asked. “The other one pleaded nearly constantly until I shut him up.”

“You killed him…”

“He isn’t dead, just unconscious,” the man scoffed. “I try to avoid killing them, if I’m able to.”

“The police will be here soon,” you warned.

“Oh I know. That’s the only reason that I’m leaving this very minute.” He made his way over to the window, never turning to stop facing you. The bedroom window slipped open without a sound and he began climbing out. “I’d keep my doors locked if I was you. Plenty of unsavory characters live in these parts.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Glitchy Red

Your younger cousin squealed excitedly, holding the game to her chest in joy. “I love it so much!” she said. “I can’t believe I used to think Pokémon was for babies. At first when the music randomly cut out, I did think it was super weird but I’ve gotten used to it now.”

“I don’t think it’s meant to do that,” you chuckled. “But cheap versions, you know?”

It was good to see that your last-minute gift hadn’t gone to waste. You had been worried that the present’s fun would be lost on your video game-hating cousin but she had actually decided to give the game a shot. Now you had somebody in the family to speak to which was extraordinarily exciting.

“What are you meant to say to Red when he asks you whether or not he’s a joke?” she aske unexpectedly. “I know that if you say no, he goes away, and I’ve been too scared to try the other option.”

You frowned. “I don’t actually remember that part of the game.”

“Really? But it happens so often.”

When she realised that you really hadn’t encountered anything like that in the game before, she told you to wait a minute and came back with her game.

“There was one around here,” she said, loading in. “Just give me a second and I’ll find it.”

You stayed much later than you had originally intended to that night. The two of you played through a lot of the game, waiting for the moment when Red would break the fourth wall and demand to know about your opinions on him.

It never came.

The game ran incredibly smoothly. It was quite odd. There weren’t any hiccups along the way nor horror-style glitches. The music didn’t even cut off which was apparently rare accourding to your cousin.

After a while, she sighed and handed it to you. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why it’s not breaking. I’ll go make us some food.”

You continued playing while she was gone, enjoying the memories that came with the game. It was as fun as you remembered until about five minutes after she left. The music just shut off unexpectedly and, no matter what you did, it refused to come back at all. Any other sound effects worked fine though.

“So you’re just programed to break when only one person’s in the room?” you joked.

Perhaps that was a bad choice.

Unexpectedly, a loud static erupted from the console, so ear-aching that it felt like your ears began to bleed. The game took on a horrible red tint and Red appeared on the screen, a dialogue box appearing beneath his blackened form.

AM I A JOKE TO YOU?

Horrified, you immediately shut down the game and threw the cartridge as far away from you as possible. You raced at full speed into the kitchen, nearly knocking several things over along the way.

“You have got to throw that game,” you wheezed.

“What? Why?” she asked.

“There is something really fucked up with that game…” you said. “That thing with Red is absolutely not meant to happen. It felt like he was staring into my soul. You have to throw it out the moment you can. I will buy you another one but do not keep that.”

“Oh, alright,” she said, seemingly confused but nowhere as shaken as you were.

A faint static came from the living room, sending shivers down your spine.

Hobo Heart

Tears flowed down your face despite your best attempts to remain composed. “I’ve known for a while now,” you managed to say.

Your ex-boyfriend seemed shocked, though not entirely upset about your admission. “How long –“

“Since last week,” you said. “Though I’ve heard it’s been going on for considerably longer.”

He shifted his weight and took a deep breath. You recognised this behavior from the past, already hearing the words you knew were coming. The apologies and the false regret, the promises about not doing it again, and then the eventual guilt-tripping. If you heard the latter, you weren’t sure your resolve would hold.

“Goodbye,” you said firmly.

“Wait!”

You ignored the calls, making your way home at a steady place. A few people offered you concerned looks so you rubbed away the tears and took a few deep breaths.

Several months of your life had been completely wasted. You had put so much time and energy into a person who didn’t care one ounce about you.

Just great.

You turned onto your street and made your way to the house across from your own. The woman who lived there was always busy and she only came home to feed her dog before disappearing again. Thankfully, she trusted you to spend time with Bruno.

Bruno came racing over to the gate and jumped up for head scratches. He was a beautiful Afghan Hound with a dark coat and bright eyes.

“At least I know that you’ll always be by my side,” you said, running his fingers through the dog’s fur.

A tear slipped out and you quickly rubbed it away. You dug around in your bag and took out a couple treats, offering him.

A second bark brought your attention to the street.

Standing there, a small white dog with a scruffy coat stared up at you. It looked friendly enough and, after cautiously checking it out, you crouched down and gave it a treat.

“Hello,” you cooed. You gave the pup a few scratches and smiled. “How are you doing, hm? No collar? But you must have an owner because your coat is all groomed and soft. Did you get out or slip your leash?”

You looked around the streets to see if anybody. Nobody jumped out so you gave the dog another treat and brought it into the garden with Bruno to protect it from cars.

The two barked and played with little issue and you messages friends and family about the events of the day.

It was about half an hour later when the air was starting to get chilly. You stood and the small scruffy dog began barking excitedly. Its tail whipped through the air and it jumped up against the fence. A man wearing a white hoodie was standing down the street. You glanced at the dog, scooped it up and made your way to where he was.

“Excuse me,” you said. “I think that I found your dog.”

He turned to look at you and you startled slightly at his rather unusual face paint. A white skull was painted onto his face, similar to something you would see at a college convention.

He glanced down at the happy dog and sighed. “So that’s where he got to.”

“I’m sorry if you were looking for him. I took him off the street to protect him from any cars or anything.”

“It’s fine. He always shows up eventually,” the guy said. “You can just put him down. He’ll follow me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Then he turned and started walking away. You hurriedly put the dog down and it immediately bounded after him, falling into step directly beside him. They disappeared around a corner and you returned to your own house.

The day had gotten much warmer suddenly.

[catxsnow]

BACK TO YOU W.W.

Request: Could I be so bold to request a Wally fic? Where he comes back after his "death" (lets be real we all know he is not dead) and Y/N reacts to it? Could it be fluff, angst, a little of both, that's up to you.

P.s. I love you 😊😊

Warning: angst, mentions of death (wallace), fluff

A/N: hello, good evening, I’m tired as fuck. 

I’ve been thinking about a taglist lately so if there’s interest I’ll start one. I always suffer when I make it for some reason but if the people are interested I will suffer for y’all. 

Word count: 2.3k 

Wally coming back from the dead seemed surreal.

The hope you had for his return never diminished, even if those around you gave up long ago. Wally wasn't dead, he was never dead - he was just stuck in a place that no one could save him. Not Barry, not Bart, Not even Jay. Wally was the only one that could save himself and he had done it.

Broken, battered, and barely breathing he had made it out of the Speed Force. He had made it back to you. It put everyone into shock to see him collapsed in the middle of the team's headquarters. His suit was barely hanging to his body, eyes sunken in with exhaustion. He barely looked alive.

It took weeks to get him nourished back to health. Weeks of him being in a coma, wondering how the hell he managed to get back home. Sleeping at his bedside every night because you were scared this wasn't real or that he would be taken from you again. Long nights of crying because even if he was back, was he even going to wake up?

By the time that he was back up on his feet and running around again, every single league member had come to see him. Those who gave up on him, those who never lost hope, even those who never knew him.

Wally West was back.

Unfortunately, it seemed that a lot of him was still missing. His smile that once never left his face hadn't resurfaced once. The laugh that you remembered so clearly that got you through so many hard days vanished. The light in his eyes when he was running or saving lives was dull. He wasn't the same man you knew.

He teetered around you like a stranger even though every night he told you how grand his love for you was. You noticed him bumping into furniture that had moved from his time away or looking at pictures of people he didn't know with tears in his eyes. He stood by the window, watching for nearly an hour, just staring into the void every other day.

Wally wasn't all back from the Speed Force. He had lost a part of himself in there that he could never get back. Dick tried to fill in the gap of time that he missed, catching him up on everything that he missed but the moment that he came back to you he seemed more zoned out than ever. M'gann excitedly told him about her engagement with Conner, Kaldur with his new position in the league.

Everyone tried to make him feel right back at home, but no matter how hard they tried it would never be the same. Wally lost that time, and he was never going to get it back. He could never make it up to his friends for missing so many important moments in their lives or the grief that he put them through.

No matter how fast he ran, how many hours he stayed up wondering if things would have been different that day, none of that would change the fact that he had been missing for five years. Guilt plagued him, fear of being stuck back in there, he was in a constant state of terror because it was so damn easy for him to be lost the first time.

Nightmares woke him up every night. Sometimes he would lay there staring at the ceiling for hours without you knowing, other times his screams would echo in your room and wake you. Tears streaming down his face, clinging to you like his lifeline. Horrible dreams filled his mind of being pulled back there - or seeing his friends taken instead.

Those moments were the only time that it seemed Wally was willing to open up to you. It was the only time that he treated you like a lover rather than a stranger. Only when he was most vulnerable did it feel like he was truly back home, safe and sound with you. Whatever was holding him back from being open to you, it broke your heart.

Wally was always the one that you could go to when you had your issues and now that you couldn't do the same for him... it was hard to accept. You didn't want to push him into relieving his memories where he was stuck or asking the wrong questions to get him upset. Saying nothing at all didn't seem to be working either.

Dick noticed it, Barry, Artemis, even Garfield was worried. No one knew what was going on inside that head of his and he refused to go to Dinah - or anyone - for help. Everyone was worried.

You told them of the times that you woke up to him vibrating the entire bed, still asleep and a pained look on his face. Or the time that he would be perfectly fine before suddenly speeding around the house like he had no control over his body. Wally had become unstable with his speed - and maybe his health too.

"Love you, baby," Wally mumbled out.

He had gotten back from his hangout with Dick to find you sprawled out on the couch. Whatever they had done must have put him in a good mood. The moment that he saw you, he sped over and practically dived into you. His arms kept him hovering over you so he could lean down and kiss you properly - something that he always seemed to avoid since being back.

He found himself cuddled into your chest, arms snaked around you. For the first time since his return, you saw a genuine smile on his face. It was a sleepy, half-smile, but nonetheless, you were excited to see it. His eyes drooped closed the second you started massaging his scalp. He hummed with content as you eased the tension that had been piling up.

Half asleep, shoulders loose after weeks of being tensed at every moment. His heavy breathing was audible and you could feel the warmth of it against your skin. It had been years since you had seen him relaxed like this and it quickly brought tears to your eyes. Wally had been through so much, he deserved happiness, he deserved to have peace in his life.

"I love you Wally, always," you whispered. Silent tears spilled down your eyes - you wanted him to find his joy again, no matter the cost. "I never gave up on you, my love. I knew you'd find your way back home. Fuck-" your voice cracked, "I was so lost without you. Having you back in my arms like this was the only thing keeping me going.

"You mean everything to me, Wally. I know that you did what you did to save the world but..." you sighed. It was impossible to say that you wished that he hadn't done it - or that someone else should have taken his place. "I'm so relieved that you're safe now. I know you've been going through a hard time, and I've been trying my best not to push you - but if you need anything you know I'm here."

You waited for him to say something - anything. Wally was struggling to open up to you but seeing him in a good mood like this may have been the best opportunity to get him to say what was on his mind. Unfortunately, his silence made you worried.

It wasn't until the sounds of a soft snore did you realize that he had fallen asleep on you. His body had become completely dead weight, arms no longer tense around you. The security he felt being with you had lulled him to deep sleep in a matter of minutes. Although you weren't in a comfortable position, seeing him at peace was well worth it.

><

"He's getting better."

It had been months since Wally had been home. The process of getting him back to his mental state before entering the Speed Force for years was going to take a long time - but he was well on his way. Being with friends, family - finally admitting that he needed to see someone to talk through all this - dramatically helped.

The original team decided to put together a little surprise birthday for Wally. He said he didn't want anything - but they had several year's worth of get-togethers to make up for. So, you and Dick plotted together to throw something, just with his closest friends. Nothing overwhelming.

Although he originally complained about the gesture, he quickly found himself appreciating the effort that had been put into that evening. The food, the people, he forgot how much these moments meant to him. Seeing the smiles on everyone's faces again, that was the best gift he could have asked for.

He stood on the other side of the room with Conner and Dick - all three of the men were laughing their heads off about something. Artemis stood by your side, watching the three of them just as you were. She handed over one of the drinks in her hand to you. Everyone in the room had been deep in conversation with someone - besides you. She noticed.

"He is," you agreed with her.

"Why're you by yourself?" She got straight to the point. Artemis didn't bother with the small talk or sugarcoating her question. She waited for your answer, watching as your gaze turned from Wally, to the now interesting cement beneath your feet. "(Y/N)."

"Everyone's helped Wally so much and I can't help but feel like... Like I haven't done enough. Wally was always the person that I could lean on and now that I'm the one that has to be strong for him, it just feels like there's more that I could have done to help him. I never had the same bond that you all had with him being on the team and risking your lives, I don't know what it's like enough to help him through this trauma.

"Wally deserves the world and a lot of the time I feel like I can't give it to him. I'm not a hero, I don't have powers, I'm just... normal. Maybe that's not enough for someone who can save the world before I even finish breakfast," Your fists tightened at your sides as the heavy realization that had been clouding your mind was revealed.

It was clear that you were the odd man out in the room. Everyone there had risked their lives to saved the world and what had you done? Wait anxiously at home for your friends to return? Grieve at the losses that you couldn't have changed? There was nothing that you could do in the hero-life besides sitting on the sidelines.

"You do a lot more than you make yourself believe, (Y/N)," Artemis placed her hand on your shoulder. She glanced over at your boyfriend, wondering how different it would have been if they ended up together instead. Wally would have been unhappy, he loved you from the beginning.

"Wally can't stop talking about the support you give him. He wouldn't be where he is today without you. Men are stubborn - especially speedster men - they won't always admit how much they need someone. He gets this look on his face when he's talking about you like you're the whole reason for his existence. Don't put yourself down for not being stuck in a hero life we are - your love for him is the only power he needs."

"Thank you, Artemis," you forced a smile at her.  Although you didn't believe her words at the moment she was right. Your love for Wally was the most important thing that you could ever give him, and that was going to have to be enough for now. Every ounce of your love went to making him happy.

Before she could say anything else, a familiar breeze washed over you both. Wally was suddenly standing right in front of you - and as if Artemis wasn't even there, brought you in for a deep kiss. His lips molded to yours, hand pressed to the small of your back to keep you close.

"I love you, (Y/N)," Wally barely pulled his lips from you. Conner had heard everything that you were saying to Artemis, and although he felt as if it wasn't his place to tell, Wally needed to know. A need to be with you, to assure you that you had done more than enough to get him to where he was, filled him.

"Across every galaxy, every universe, the Speed Force, no matter where I will always find my way back to you. I'll love you through everything," Wally pecked you once more. "Thank you for never giving up on me, babe."

"I'll never give up on you, Wally West. Not even the Speed Force can keep us apart," you grinned.

"Get a room already," Artemis complained. You had forgotten that she was still standing with you. It wasn't just her - the entire room was staring at the both of you. Smiles on their face at how happy Wally was with you. His little move had caught the attention of everyone and he just adored it.

Wally laughed at her comment. He swooped you up in his arms and sent a wink your way. He was already gearing up to speed you both out of there before saying his last bit to Artemis - and everyone else in the room.

"Don't have to tell me twice."

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Hi hun! Hope you’re doing well! Could a request a Shikamaru fic! I was thinking maybe it’s obvious to everyone that Shikamaru and Reader like each-other (except themselves of course). But a mission where they have to pretend to be a couple and they finally confess.

😘

Pretenders (Shikamaru x Reader)

A/N: another request. Im not super proud of this one, i really got stuck halfway through and i think that shows here. Thanks for requesting though, and hopefully you still enjoy. Trigger Warning for sexual assault.

word count: 6500

“So, you two set out on a mission tonight right?” Ino asked, leaning her cheek in her hand, nodding toward her two friends across the booth.

“Yep. Supposedly 3 weeks,” Y/N told her. “I won’t get to see you guys for so long.” The girl took a quick sip of her lemonade and sighed. It was a substantial amount of time. It’d been a while since she’d gone somewhere so intensive.

Shikamaru and Y/N had only a couple more hours before they were to be briefed on the details of otheir next mission and whisked away to a far away land for yet another tedious job. Y/N was perfectly fine with the premise of going on a 3 week mission, she’d been home too long and longed for some kind of adventure. She still wasn’t sure the caliber of the mission, nor did she even know where or what they were doing, but she was excited nonetheless.

Shikamaru, of course, wasn’t too fond of the entire idea. Yes, he was more than happy to find out his mission partner was Y/N L/N. Out of all the people he could have been paired with, she was most definitely the least annoying. He really felt like Kakashi had his back lately with missions, giving him ones that were semi decent, and sending him out with his friends. He was certainly grateful for the Hokage’s assignments.

Choji added from his spot near the wall, taking a second away from munching on his lunch. “It won’t be so bad. You guys have each other, after all. How could things get boring when you have your little girlfriend with you, Shikamaru, am I right?”

“Choji…” Shikamaru groaned, pressing his fingers to either side of his temples. These sorts of things borhered the hell out of him. The constant teasing from everyone, not just his teammates, but literally teachers, other squads, his mother, her grandmother. They weren’t dating. They never were dating.

Yet every person in this damned town was under the assumption there was something going on between them. Really, he was just trying to live his life.

Did he want to date her? Yes, a million times over, yes. She was literally perfect, he couldn’t imagine himself with anyone else. But was Y/N at all interested? Definitely not. She was more oblivious than Naruto was with Hinata, and that’s saying a lot. She seemed to ignore everyone when they made jokes, she thought all his measly attempts at flirting were just normal conversation even when he treated Ino completely differently. She wasn’t a dumb girl either. She was smart in her own right.

That’s why he’d begun to think she was maybe avoiding his advances on purpose. That she didn’t like him and she was trying to let him down easy. It was stupid really, and he wished she would just come out with it already, tell him to his face that she just wanted to be friends. It was frustrating, to say the least, but he kept trying.

He could safely say he hadn’t felt this way for another girl in his entire life, and he wouldn’t give up that easily. He really just wanted other people to mind their business. That’s the reason he shot down all the jokes and comments from his friends. They didn’t need to know about his lovelife, that was personal.

Ino smirked, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder and letting a laugh leave her lips. “Come on, Choji. You know how Shika feels about you teasing him.”

“Fine. But you gotta admit it’s funny.”

They continued on with their conversation, Shikamaru groaning at their jokes and the other two laughing the entire time. That was how it usually went. Y/N just listened quietly, sipping away at her lemonade. Those two, his teammates, they always made jokes, it was normal. She was constantly labeled Shikamaru’s girlfriend, and each time he denied it. Over and over again. He didn’t let a single instance slide by.

That’s how she knew to avoid the subject. To keep her feelings to herself. There was no point in confessing to him when he was already so adamant at keeping their relationship out of other people’s mouths. She was a troublesome girl, anyone who thought he saw her as anything different was delusional.

So she kept quiet, just listening.

Each time someone joked, her stomach would turn and she would wait for him to say something, for him to admit they were right, for him to get flushed in the cheeks, for him to reach out and hold her hand and confess his feelings, and each time she was let down brutally. After enough times getting her heart broken, it was only inevitable she give up this false hope. There was no digging her way into his cold heart. He was so closed off, to get inside...it seemed like an impossible feat.

She wasn’t willing to fight for him anymore. It was tiring, and they never got anywhere.

After enough time, she stopped crying herself to sleep. She stopped talking about her crush with Hinata and Ino when the boys weren’t around. She still looked at him with all the love she had to give. He was the best man she knew, how could she not. She just stopped wishing for something that wasn’t going to happen. She stopped investing so much of her time and energy into a useless, pointless dream.

She was tired of running endlessly in circles, over and over again. All because of his dumbass.

Maybe with time, she could try and get over him. With time she could learn to like him the same way as all their other friends. It was always just the little things that would pull her back in every time. It was the walks home at night when she was tired, or she had too many drinks and he’d wrap his arm around her waist and hold her so tight to his side she could feel his heart beating. It was the times he’d lay beside her in the grass and run his fingers through her hair splayed out over the ground. It was the times he would hold her silently as she cried for her mother and father who’d died, and he would rub her back until she could breathe again.

Every single fucking time she got close, the moments she felt she might not be desperately in love with him anymore, he came right in and stole her heart again. It wasn’t his fault, he was just being a good friend, but God, did it hurt sometimes.

And it wasn’t Ino and Choji’s fault for talking about it. It was so fucking obvious she liked him. Y/N followed Shikamaru around like a lost puppy half the time, what else were they supposed to think? They were just wrong in their assumptions that she was anything more to Shikamaru himself. That the boy thought of her as anything more than a troublesome friend who was always needing help with something or another.

She drank the last bit of her drink and set down the glass. “We better be heading to the Hokage tower soon. It’s almost time, and he still has to debrief us and all, “ she told the boy at her right.

“Yeah. I’ll go get my bag from home first and we’ll meet up there?”

“Got it,” Y/N slid out of the booth and waved to her friends. “See you when we get back.”

“Bye, Y/N!” Ino called as the girl left the restaurant with her book bag over her shoulder. She sighed, sinking down into her seat and glaring over at the pineapple head across from them. “You gotta make your move on this mission, Shika. Stop being such a scaredy cat.”

“Listen, you guys don’t know anything about anything, okay? She doesn’t like me that way. She never has.”

“I never thought I’d have to say this, but you’re dumb, man,” Choji laughed. “She obviously likes you.”

“Yeah, yeah. All of you seem to think that but you don’t see how she is with me. We are purely friends. That’s it.”

“Whatever, man,” he waved off the boy’s stern reply and added, “ Have fun on your trip with Y/N. Hope you get lucky.” Those words caused Shikamaru to heat up from his neck to the tips of his ears and he promptly slid out from his seat, straightening his vest as he did so to try and calm himself. That was unnecessary of his friend to say, for sure.

He turned to them once more and nodded his head. “See you around.”

“See you!”

Now all he needed to do was get his things together and meet up with the girl of his dreams for their weeks long mission. Fun times. Especially now that his friends made him annoyed and frustrated with the entire situation again. He’d have to calm down before seeing her soon.

_______

“We’re doing what?” Y/N asked, staring down at their Hokage in disbelief. He’d been detailing their mission and everything seemed normal so far, infiltrating and learning information about a budding coup in a far away nation just on the edge of the Land of Earth and The Land of Wind. It seemed easy enough at first, but then he kept going.

Kakashi sighed. “I said, you two are to be disguised as a princess and her consort from the Land of Sunflowers. The leaders of this land are expecting these royal visitors and you will be taking their place.”

“So, like, he’s gonna be my husband?” she asked for clarification again. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand his words, it was that she didn’t want to believe them. This was her worst nightmare. They would have to pretend to be in a relationship? Shikamaru was going to hate this more than anything and it would be uncomfortable the entire time.

Why did Kakashi have to pick them two, of all his shinobi? Why?

“Yes. That won’t be a problem for two close friends such as yourselves. After all, that’s why I picked you. You have some kind of dynamic going I feel your targets will find believable.” Shikamaru cursed the heavens. Even the fucking Hokage thought they were involved. This was ridiculous. Now this long ass mission he was already dreading was made ten times worse with this awkward situation. “We’re not gonna have a problem, are we?”

It would be okay though. He just had to take a few deep breaths. That’s all.

“No, sir, of course not. I’m ready for anything you throw at me,” she declared, straightening her back and letting the heat fade from her cheeks. She was embarrassed, obviously, but she couldn’t let the Hokage know. It was easier talking to Kakashi though, much easier than Tsunade. Kakashi watched them grow up, he knew them personally from helping them train. That didn’t mean she couldn’t be flustered.

“You’ll take those bags with you. They have some more suitable clothing for royalty. Put them on when you get close to the village. Throw out any indicators you’re from the Leaf as well.”

“Okay.”

“You’re dismissed. Leave as soon as possible,” the gray haired shinobi told them. She nodded and threw the bag over her shoulder, tossing the other one over to Shikmaru who caught it and slung it onto his back. He definitely wasn’t happy about any of this, but maybe it was a sign.

Ino and Choji told him to confess his feelings to her on this mission. Kakashi just told them they would be pretending to be a married couple. As he watched her walking in front of him down the Tower stairs, her head just barely dipped as she absorbed all the information running through her mind, he wondered if maybe this was his opportunity. A make or break type scenario. He had three weeks to figure out how to tell her how he felt in a more direct way than he’d tried before.

He worked out all the scenarios and their outcomes in his head millions of times and every time they ended in disaster. For someone so great at strategy, he sure did struggle with this one.

“So, I guess we’re married now. Should we start kissing or something?” she asked awkwardly as they reached the bottom of the stairs, shifting back and forth from her toes to her heels. He stopped, more like froze, in his path and stared at her.

“Now you're just making it weird,” he replied. “We aren’t even there yet.”

“I know, I was kidding. Trying to lighten the mood, you know,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. Of course he would reply like that. He didn’t like her at all, he couldn’t even take a fucking joke. Had to get all upset over it like a baby, all because he was so set on never dating her ever, never even entertaining the thought. She rolled her eyes, “You don’t have to be so rude about it, geez.”

She kept walking before he could reply. He had a feeling this trip was going to be a lot worse than anyone had anticipated. He was nervous, grumpy, and preparing for the worst. In fact, what he really wanted was a nice long nap.

_________

The dresses that Kakashi packed for her were...extravagant to say the least. They flowed all the way down to her ankles, thick heavy hoop skirts embroidered from head to toe with symbols of the land of sunflowers. She felt strange with her shoulders exposed and her body on display in these outfits which were so unlike the pants and t-shirts she wore when she was back at home or on a normal mission. She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and sighed, feeling at least a little covered.

Shikamaru had nice clothes, but they were nothing in comparison to her wild dresses and all the bright colors of the fabric. He looked semi-normal. She was jealous, admittedly, that he still got to wear pants and shirts. He said she looked good in the dress, he actually told her about a dozen times, reassuring over and over again that she looked fine, but she didn’t believe him. She wasn’t dainty, how could she look beautiful when she clearly didn't belong in something so delicate?

Still, when they walked up to the gates of the Land of Shadows, they were greeted like the royalty they pretended to be. They were swept away to the main castle to meet with the King and his wife. It was nearly dinner time, and they were to eat with them as a greeting. It made sense, but Y/N felt herself growing more nervous with the second. She didn’t know the first thing about being a princess, or acting like a monarch. All she knew was fighting and joking with her friends.

Not only that, but how could she convince them that she and Shikamaru were in a relationship? Y/N wasn’t sure they possessed the right dynamic and even if they tried, it would be obvious they were uncomfortable with each other. It was all making her heart race, and she had to take a few deep breaths as they entered the dining room.

But her companion...he knew what he was doing. He was going to put on quite the show, take advantage of the situation. If this week and a half was his only chance to hold Y/N in his heart, than he wouldn't let any opportunities slip by.

Without warning, she found that Shikamaru had reached over and wrapped her hand up in his bigger one, clutching at her shaking fingers. He was so steady, she found herself sinking into his touch. It was comforting, more so than she thought it could be, given the circumstances. His skin was just so warm and soft against hers, it was only natural she felt safer.

“Ah, Princess Ayaka, Duke Hisashi. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” a man called from his place at the table. His wife was sitting beside him, her soft smile only reaching her lips not nearing her eyes. Y/N caught that immediately. Her distance. Silently, she took note of that as the King approached them, extending his arms for an embrace.

“It’s an honor to meet you, your highness,” Shikamaru replied with a smile, an obvious fake one, but damn was he good. She watched as he hugged the man so earnestly, as if he’d sunken right into the role of consort without an issue. She’d have to ask him tonight how he was so good at acting.

“And your beautiful wife,” he extended his hand to the girl and she raised it hesitantly, receiving a soft kiss to the back of her palm. “Come take a seat. Dinner will be served soon.”

The pair took their seats beside each other on the opposite side of the table, Y/N directly across from the Queen, who looked up at her for merely a moment only to sigh and go back to fiddling with the curve of her wine glass. "Your highness," Y/N hummed to the woman who nodded.

"Oh what a dream, to be young and in love," she said. "I remember the days."

"Please dear! To me, you will always be my beautiful young wife! We share a love to last a lifetime," the king cheered, placing his hand over that of his wife's as he took his seat at the table. "I apologize for her gloom. She's been going through a rough patch. We are more than overjoyed to have you here."

"It's fine. We all have our bad days," the girl replied softly.

After a few minutes of small talk, just dipping their feet into the conversation, a couple servants brought out plates of food and wine bottles full of vintage drink truly meant for the highest of royalty. Compared to the plain sake she had drank at home, this was liquid gold dripping down her throat. Shikamaru sent her a warning look. Y/N was known to be quite the lightweight, and even a couple glasses of wine could send her into a tipsy stupor. He really knew her too well, so hyperaware of the things she did.

"So, how did you two meet?" their host asked, taking a moment away from the chicken in front of him. "It's said that you married for love, not arrangement. That's true?"

Y/N and Shikamaru hadn't been versed very well on the details, just on the basics. Her heart beat increased, stress building up. Her lies would have to be good.

"Yes. You've heard right. He was my friend before anything else. We met as children." That much she knew for sure after reading the mission summary.

"Oh wow. Childhood lovers. Very sweet," the queen sighed, resting her cheek in her palm.

Y/N would be lying if she didn't feel a bit of similarities between her own story and that of the real princess she was pretending to be. Shikamaru and Y/N grew up together, for as long as she could remember. She started to love him before she even really knew what love was. It only made sense she pretended to be a princess in the same situation.

And when he held her hand again, this time under the table, his thumb brushing over her knuckles so softly she thought she might melt. Her cheeks began to heat up under his touch and she smiled. It was so nice holding his hand, pretending to care about each other this way. Not that she needed to pretend.

Dinner droned on, and she continued to hold his hand the entire time, besides when they were spooning at their food. For once on a mission, it felt like they were completely at peace. Of course, they were both supposed to be analyzing the movements of everyone around them to make sure no one was planning a coup like Kakashi told them. But she couldn’t held but cherish the moments of calmness and warmth between everyone.

The King and his wife were genuinely some of the kindest people she’d ever met, whether they were just acting that way or not. It was a pleasure to have dinner with them, talking and laughing like an uncle would with his nieces and nephews. It had that same energy, talking to him.

“Hisashi, you wouldn’t mind accompanying me to my library? I have some books I think you might enjoy,” the man said, standing from the table. The rest of them slid out of their chairs after him, and she had to brush down her skirts to make sure everything was in line. It was tedious, wearing these outfits without any prior warning. She felt like a clown. The Queen was so effortless in her movements, how could she not feel stupid standing beside someone so regal?

“That sounds great, your majesty-”

“Not necessary. Call me Shoto, that’s my name after all, and you are an honored guest,” he laughed. He reached over and gave his wife a gentle kiss on the cheek before turning on his heel and heading toward the door. She really expected Shikamaru to just leave with just a simple goodbye, or a “I’ll see you tonight” kind of thing.

Definitely not this.

He was gonna go all out this time around.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispered, just loud enough for only her to hear, over her shoulder into her ear. When his warm breath hit her skin, shivers ran up and down her spine. Her eyes widened and she turned to stare up at him, cursing herself when she felt heat rise up in her cheeks and burn the tips of her ears. Was he serious, or just teasing her? He always liked to crack jokes like that.

But when she felt his rough hand pressed to her cheek, lifting her face ever so carefully to meet his, she knew he wasn’t messing around. His eyes met hers for a split second, and she could have sworn he winked down at her before pressing his lips to hers.

Honestly, she thought she might have a heart attack right there in the dining room. Shikamaru was kissing her. It felt even better than she dreamed it would. Chapped lips running against hers, heat pooling in her stomach, heart pounding in her chest.

As soon as it started, though, the kiss was over, and he took a step back. "See you tonight, Princess."

She was keen on catching the smirk on his lips, and the way he laughed to himself as he walked out of the room with the King before him.

Y/N stood there silently, her fingers pressed to her lips, breath caught in her throat. The boy she’d wanted for so long just kissed her like it was nothing, and she was left all alone to deal with this predicament, all the feelings that came rushing in after. All she knew for sure, whether he was serious or not, was that she really, seriously liked him. She liked him a lot more than she thought.

And now they had a whole week and a half of fake kisses and hand holding to endure. Jeez.

__________

“You know, you’re nothing like the other princesses I’ve met,” the guard said to her as she waited for Shikamaru to show up. He was still out with the King practicing archery. Apparently that was a hobby a lot of these rich country men had. So far, she wasn’t suspecting a thing out of the King or any of his closest acquaintances. They were nice as could be and seemed sincere in their intentions toward the village alliances. She had no reason to suspect them, and was beginning to think a coup was just as Kakashi thought, a mere rumor.

That made things a lot easier.

She sighed, tapping her fingers on her wrist. She wasn’t a fan of having a guard watching her every second of the day, especially not the talkative ones. This one was strange. He gave off this energy she couldn’t describe as anything other than creepy.

“Yeah? That’s nice,” she muttered.

“It’s just, usually princesses are pompous, full of themselves, spoiled women. You aren’t the same,” he continued, even if it was obvious she wanted him to shut up and go about his business while she did hers. She felt uncomfortable being alone in this land, without any of her weapons or the ability to fight back if someone was acting sketchy. She was forced to sit by like some little, ditsy princess just watching and observing.

Honestly, though, Shikamaru was probably having a great time. All he had to do was eat with the royalty, play board games, shoot some arrows, and then go to sleep. There was no extensive fighting or thinking going on, just sitting around observing and waiting for something suspicious to happen.

The queen would normally hang out with the female guests but thanks to her bouts of depression she stayed in her room, leaving Y/N completely at the mercy of time. So much time passed, and she was bored of it.

“I’m honestly just another princess. You’d be surprised though. Many princesses are just as modest as I am, it’s not all that uncommon,” she commented, taking a peek over at the man, only to quickly look away. He had quite the hungry look on his face, and if her eyes hadn’t deceived her, his own were trained right on her breasts. Damn these dresses.

Y/N wrapped her arms across her chest and slumped down, trying to hide herself from this weird man watching over her. Only, it seemed impossible. He was so much taller, could just look over her shoulder. She couldn’t run away and raise suspicion. She had to sit here and wait for someone else to break the tension.

She was scared.

“I meant that as a compliment. You say thank you when someone compliments you, yeah?” he mumbled, a firm hand reaching out to snatch her wrist. It hurt, his grip on her arm, and she winced at the feeling. “Say thank you.”

She bit her lip and refused to meet his eyes, instead focusing on his hands. If she needed to, she would defend herself but only to a small extent. She couldn’t blow her cover just because some guard was manhandling her. Take a deep breath, Y/N. It’s gonna be okay. Just calm down.

“T-Thank you,” she gulped, hoping he would drop her wrist. But he didn’t. He only held on tighter.

He smiled, yellow teeth showing through his thin lips. “See, you are a good girl, aren’t you?” he questioned, and she felt his other hand run up her waist. All she could do was whimper, shivers running up her spine and any skin this man laid his hands on. The only hope she had was that another guard come walking around and see them.

It was unlikely, but she prayed for a savior to make their appearance.

His hand worked its way down to her ass, and she felt him squeeze. Vomit rose up in her throat and she squirmed away, pressing herself against the wall as tight as she could so his hands had nowhere to go. Instead, he took to fondling her breasts in his hands. She could only bite her lips and feel the tears bubble up in her eyes as he pushed down the fabric of her top and pressed his filthy palms against her skin.

“What the fuck?” a voice cursed from behind them. The guard was torn off of her form and she brought up her hands to cover herself, tears still dripping thickly from her eyes as she cried, little breathy sobs leaving her lips. Shikamaru stood there, hands shaking at his sides as he glared over at the guard. “What’s going on here?” he demanded. Y/N watched as her friend turned red in the face, burning up with an anger she rarely saw from him, if ever.

“You tell me, your highness. Your wife seduced me!” the guard cried, clearly lying to cover himself and his sins.

The eyes of all three men, the guard, Shikamaru, and the King standing near the footwell of the stairs, turned to her. She just cried harder, shaking like a leaf in front of everyone. “He grabbed me and started to touch me, and-and I couldn’t do anything,” Y/N told them all through her pained cries.

The King marched up the steps and grabbed his guard by the arm, yanking him toward the doorway to enter the castle. He appeared worn from his workout, tired and sweaty, but he was awake enough to realize the severity of the situation. He bowed low to Y/N and her companion.

His apology ran thick from his mustached lips, “This is unacceptable. Honored guests, I apologize for everything that’s happened. I will take care of this, I assure you. Please, don’t hesitate to ask for anything you need tonight.” Shikamaru nodded, and they watched as the pair of men walked into the castle, no doubt to find another guard to incarcerate the guard in question.

Shikamaru turned to her and winced, seeing her dress pushed down below her breasts and the tremors running through her hands desperate to cover them. He watched as hot, heavy tears ran thick down her cheeks and her lips quivered and shook with fear and trauma. Gently, he moved her hands to the side and brought her dress back up to cover her chest. He worked carefully, making sure not to startle her or make things worse.

The woman sunk into his touch, leaning her head against his shoulder and sobbing. “It’s gonna be okay, Y/N. You’re safe now.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and tugged her close to his chest, pressing a soft, gentle hand to the back of her head to stroke her hair. “I’m so sorry. I won’t leave you alone again, okay?”

“Shika, “ she whimpered, “I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life. I couldn’t do anything to defend myself and there was no one else around to help me. I-I didn’t know what to do.”

“I know. You must have been so scared,” he whispered. She just nodded against his shoulder, crying deeper into his chest. He hugged her tighter and swore to himself, even if he couldn't make it happen, that he would protect her. This kind of thing would never happen to her again if he had any say at all. “I promise this won’t happen again.”

"I've just never been in that position before. I always have the upper hand. It was awful. I was so scared and I wanted to cry for you to come help me but I didn't know where you were."

"God, I'm sorry," he mumbled, hugging her tighter in a desperate attempt to calm her shaking. He just wanted for her to be better, even if he knew that wasn't an option right now.

He felt so hopeless, knowing the only thing he could do was promise, to say things without any actual basis behind them. He was just whispering words to the wind hoping they would stick and he was right. He cursed himself for not being there in the first place to protect her, to make sure something like this never happened in the first place. He really was useless when she needed him the most.

He wouldn’t even argue if she said she wanted to go home, if she never wanted to see him again. He let her down. For the first time ever, he let her down in the most terrible, awful way he could think of. And now she was crying and he didn’t know how to make it better. He was really trash.

For now, all he could do though was hug her and promise her the world, all these things that might make her feel safe and comfortable, make her feel less alone and scared. It was the least he could do.

________

Finally, after a long evening of socializing and another huge dinner literally fit for a king, Y/N found herself stripping off her gowns and heavy undergarments, switching into something much lighter and comfortable for the night.

She was tired from the day. From being left alone for the good part of the morning just sitting in the sun waiting around. She was tired from the assault on her body by the guard whom was supposedly in jail right now for his actions. She was tired from all the crying and the shaking. She was just tired.

Shikamaru was out, finishing up drinks with the King and some of his subordinates for the time being, so she sunk down into the mattress near the far wall, curling up under the down covers and pulling a book from the table beside her. Anything to ease her mind for a while. She felt safe being alone in the confides of the bedroom, knowing that her friend was right down the hall if she needed him.

She scanned the pages of the novel quietly, humming each time she turned a page, leaning on her elbow so the pages would be illuminated in the candlelight.

After about an hour, the door slid open and her companion entered, shutting the door silently behind him. "You aren't asleep? I expected you to be after such a long day."

"I'm tired, but I'm not in the mood for sleep yet," she shrugged, still skimming through the pages of her novel. "Did you have fun?"

"Nah. It's such a drag having to hang out with that old man. He's nice but he never stops talking." He took off his coats and tossed them onto a chair, kicking off his heavy boots and thick socks. "Annoying, having to wear all this fancy shit too."

"Trust me, I know." She shifted over in the bed so he had more space to lay himself down, kicking out his legs and crossing his ankles. "Do you know what's on the agenda for tomorrow?"

He nodded, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side to peek at her face. His eyes slid down to the novel turned over in her hands and smirked, "Yeah. You've got book club. Have fun with that." She tossed her book back on the table beside her and instead curled further into the blankets.

His eyes caught hers and he smiled, one of those undeniably handsome intoxicating smiles she loved so deeply. "You know, you look kinda cute like that."

"Huh?"

He shrugged, "All curled up under the blankets like a little baby. It's cute. I'm just calling it how I see it."

If she wasn't flustered before, she definitely was now. He was undeniably making her feel some sort of way, and she was loving the attention. He was being so bold, so unlike him. She questioned what had compelled him to act like this, to say such things. They weren't in character anymore, it wasn't like he had to say these things.

"Thanks, Shika." She felt dumb but what was she supposed to say? She was overwhelmed. "But we're alone now. You don't have to act all lovey-dovey."

He crossed his arms beneath his head and sighed, eyes gazing up at the canopy. He mumbled, just loud enough to reach her ears, “When this is all over, I’m gonna miss you being my princess.” She peered over at him in the candlelit room, making out his faint silhouette in the darkness. Her heart fluttered in her chest at his sweet words. She never imagined in a million years Shikamaru would say these things to her, and now that it was happening she didn’t know how to react.

She dreamed of this moment for a while now. The thoughts of Shikamaru confessing his feelings and then her falling into his arms dramatically. It was a fantasy of hers, a guilty pleasure. Far too dramatic to ever be a reality.

That's why she was too shocked to meet his eyes. His princess. Those words made her woozy.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're not stupid. You know what I'm talking about," he said calmly.

"You don't want things to go back to normal?" Y/N asked, hesitant. She felt nervous, diving into these waters. Each words felt like it held so much weight. It was a puzzle, just finding the right thing to say, how to reply to his statement. "Just friends, like before?"

"Is that what you want?"

And when she really thought about it, he was right. She didn't want to go back to normal. She wanted to continue holding his hand, kissing his cheek and his lips, loving each other with their words and their gazes and all the little touches. She wanted all of this to last and as the mission came to a close, she found herself worrying for the future empty of all those things.

She shook her head, just barely able to bring her eyes up to meet his. He looked bored, but she knew he cared. He cared a lot, actually. "I-I think I'd like if we could stay like this."

"Falling in love with you, Y/N, was one of the easiest things I've ever done. Finding the right time to tell you, that's been troublesome," he confessed, blowing a stray piece of hair from his eyes. "You never seemed emotionally available, really."

"I always was. I was always waiting for you, Shikamaru. Ever since we were just teenagers, I've been waiting for you," she told him, letting her heart finally come out with her words. "I just thought you wanted to be friends. Before this mission, I had completely given up on being with you, but then everything seemed to fall into place on this trip."

"When Kakashi told us we would be married for this mission, I have to admit, I got excited." He rolled onto his side to face her. She was still curled up in her blanket, and he felt like he was melting. The most beautiful woman in the entire world right in front of him, his heart playing right into her hands. He was okay with that. He was okay with this girl having his entire soul if that meant he would see that smile and those eyes peering up at him.

He wasn't a romantic man. Far from it. But she brought out a side of him he'd only heard about from love struck novelists, such kinds Kakashi sensei would read.

"I just knew I'd have to shoot my shot with you," he finished, sending a wink her way. She truly was swoon, like putty in his hands. Her words came faster than she could think to stop them.

"Shikamaru, I think I love you. When you kissed me for the first time, I knew it was true. All these feelings for the past few years weren’t in vain. I love you."

"The feeling is mutual."

The girl crawled out from under the blankets and over to him on the other side of the mattress. Her arms wound around his neck and as best she could, she curled into his chest. Her ear pressed to his heart, beating loud and constant in her mind. He was more than happy to let her cuddle up to him, in fact, he relished in the feeling.

This is what he'd been missing out on all this time. The hugs. The cuddles. The looks in the dark full of love and longing. It was nice, to lay there with someone he knew for sure, without any doubt, loved him to the moon and back. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tighter to his tired form, letting her sink further into his touch.

Kakashi knew what he was doing sending them. Two lovers with a mask over their emotions, straight into a game full of dancing around their feelings and pretending to be something they always wanted to be. Everything played out perfectly, a happy ending for a couple of worthy shinobi.

He was happy. That's all he could ask for.

[asgardwinter]

Under The Moonlight

fictober day 28 | “I don’t have to explain myself.”

fandom | Marvel

summary | Surviving an apocalypse always leaves a wreckage behind, something you can’t just sweep under the rug.

pairing | Loki x Reader

warnings | sort of hurt/comfort (I think more hurt than comfort, sorry), some angsty stuff, nightmares, traumas related to Ragnarok (because I believe an apocalypse causes a lot of it, ok?) and getting worse because of no proper attention it, Loki and reader sorting stuff out. tell if I missed something please!!

word count | 734

author’s note | this is quite far from the whole fluff from fictober but I really wasn’t in the right place to write cute funny fluff. by now you all know how much I love when they hold hands (and we’re pretending Loki made it to New Asgard by the sake of us all)

🍁 fictober 2021 masterlist 🍁 Loki Laufeyson masterlist 🍁

After all you went through during the past months it was completely understandable that you couldn’t sleep.

You lost your home, your family, a lot of friends and everything you knew. Actually you were sure most of the people living in New Asgard couldn’t sleep properly at night.

So you want to look at the calm wars of the anchorage like you learnt to do since the third harsh night. If you were awake how could the nightmares find you? Well, they did but in the form of intrusive thoughts that were easier to chase away, especially if you were too focused on the way the moonlight reflected on the water.

It was also a way to avoid Loki. You both were suffering but you felt like a terrible person to put more weight on his shoulders, something you should be carrying on your own, so you just slipped from the bed until morning and came back to pretending everything was all right.

The steps that echoed through the night were new though, most people opted to suffer in the silence of their own homes, and when they decided to go out it was never this far.

In the end it wasn’t your fault.

Everyone was trying to deal about what happened in the wrong way, not acknowledging the loss but trying to erase it from their existence.

Why would you swim against the current?

“What are you doing out here?”

“I don’t have to explain myself.” The tone wasn’t harsh, it was more of a pleading whisper. You just didn’t want to talk about that. Never. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” Loki said, stopping close enough to touch you if he wanted. But he gave you your space at the same time. “I guess we all don’t want to explain ourselves after…”

“Yeah.”

The words left hanging were enough to make your eyes turn away from him, focusing on the water again, its peaceful movement guiding your heart. The silence, on the other hand, wasn’t peaceful, too many unspoken things hung in the air. The last months made no difference in figuring that out since it was a chaos to make everything work out for the few asgardians that were left, especially while trying to ignore the true damage.

Trying to sweep it under the rug.

“Nightmares, right?” He said simply straight to the point.

You nodded as an answer.

The silence made his way back again.

“I think we’re doing everything wrong.” You whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“We clearly aren’t the ones we were when this,” you pointed between you both, “started.” It wasn’t just the water that reflected the moonlight now, the tears gathered in the corners of your eyes did too. “I know you asked me on that spaceship if we could go back to being what we were and I agreed. But every single time I wake up from these nightmares is just more proof of that, that we can’t. And I don’t want to lose you but things can’t keep going like this.”

“We need to talk. You can talk about this with me, I went through it as well.” Loki pointed out and you looked at him confused, silently asking him to elaborate. “When I asked for us to go back I didn’t think about this, I was too happy you were there and willing to be with me. But for this to work we need to… just do it together, rely on each other.”

“If I’m talking about it you need to do it too.”

“It’s not going to be easy.”

A low chuckle escaped your lips. “Who said anything about easy?”

The light mood from the quick replies you were so used to in the past was short. The sound of the water hitting the rocks was loud.

“I don’t think I like the person who’s got here.” You whispered after sometime.

“Sometimes, I don’t like it either.” Loki confessed.

The quietness never missed an opportunity. The leaves moving on the trees shouldn’t be as loud as the water. Two damaged people side by side trying to stick together no matter what.

Well, the love wasn’t news for any of you.

“Maybe we can learn how to like these new versions together.” You proposed, hand coming near his purposefully.

“I think that’s perfect.” Loki agreed, hand touching your ever so slightly but full on meaning.

ps: now I have a taglist!

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 8

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: fluff, mentions of violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier. 

(a/n: i promise i have other writings in the work outside this fic kdsfjlajdf i maybe have part 2 of ‘Around Your Neck’ coming up............)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You spent the rest of your night trying to redial Bucky’s number. Every single time you just got his voicemail, eventually filling it to the max with pleas for him to call you back. You apologized countless times through texts, begging him to not feel bad and to let you two sit down and discuss it.

But he had really gone radio silence. 

The only real beacon of hope for you was that you could still feel him. You still felt that attachment, the connection of soulmates. He hadn’t totally pushed you out, at least. That was all you could see as far as positives. 

As you went to bed that night, the darkness of the situation was still encompassing you. Even the world seemed to be upset with it as the second you laid your head down, it began storming. 

You fell asleep to sounds of rain hitting the windows and thunder booming across the city. The nightmares engulfed you once more with no signs of your Bucky making appearances this time. Instead, the feelings of dread ran through your body. Bone, skin, blood, and all. It was like an old friend coming to visit. 

The images were nearly the same as well as the asset was back using his knives and terrorizing unsuspecting victims. You couldn’t fight but why would you? You felt lost and defeated as you were engrossed in the metaphorical trenches of the life and missions of the Winter Soldier.

***

You had only been asleep for a few hours when your phone started ringing. Slightly thankful the sound pulled you awake before you had to see another man slaughtered, you jumped up from your bed, diving for the phone. 

The screen shone brightly in the dark of night. It was him. You nearly cried out as you hit ‘accept.’

“Bucky?”

“Can you let me in?” His voice was slowly getting drowned out by the rain. You frowned, confused.

Heading to your front door, you popped your head out, looking down the stairs at the building’s entrance. Bucky was staring at the ground outside. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to let me in.” He finally looked up, meeting your eyes through the glassdoor. It was not exactly a pretty sight. He looked tormented standing there damp from the rain. You couldn’t speak, just nodded and hung up. Without much care for your current state, draped in an oversized t-shirt and sleeping shorts, you ran down the stairs. 

Once you unlocked the door, Bucky entered the lobby without so much of a glance at you. Wordlessly, you walked back up the stairs to your apartment, letting Bucky follow.

You introduced him to your apartment, showing him the couch where he could take a seat. This certainly was not how you expected his first time in your home would be but you didn’t have much time to mourn it. 

You opted to stay standing, watching as Bucky shifted uncomfortably. He wouldn't look at you yet but you could feel the anger radiating from him. You didn’t know what to do now.

“D-Do y-you want any water or something?” 

Bucky shook his head. “I’m sorry I hung up on you.”

Sighing, you said, “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“I know, I know,” He insisted, sounding so defeated. He leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, contemplating. “It’s just… After yesterday morning, I thought I understood what you…you had seen but I didn’t want to accept it, okay? I didn’t want to think it was true. I wanted to believe that my fucking soulmate was learning the better things about me. Actual things about me, not...not that goddamn monster they created.”

A familiar ache came over you hearing his words. This must’ve been really a lot for him if he finally said the word. You didn’t even have time to celebrate it.

You couldn’t help yourself as you crossed the living room and took a seat next to him on the couch like something was actually pulling you to him. He was still staring at the ceiling while you turned towards him, fingers uncontrollably fiddling in nervousness. 

“I didn’t want to tell you,” you admitted. “At first they were everything in my life, inescapable. The nightmares-,”

Bucky cut you off with a scoff. “Nightmares.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, I know that’s unfair to you for me to describe them like that but they weren’t exactly pleasant,” you said. “The nightmares were everywhere and...and the feelings, the images… Even just tonight they-,”

His head whipped towards you. “You still have them?”

“Bucky, you need to let me speak.” He nodded and you tried to collect yourself before continuing, “Everything, from the emotions to the images of those terrifying things, hit me hard, and while, yes, it’s scary and it’s been scary for a very, very long time… I don’t think it should completely matter. I can’t change them - you certainly can’t change them - and they definitely do not represent the man sitting next to me in any way, shape, or form.”

Bucky's hard expression got softer at your reassurance. You had told him this yesterday morning but you felt now you were actually getting somewhere. You were getting your thoughts out there and maybe, just maybe, he’d accept them as facts.

His tone was rough but his words were soft as he began to speak again. “I told you that while you’re with me you won’t ever be hurt or have to worry.” You nodded, remembering the promise in passing. “So it kills me that I can’t fix this. I-I didn’t know about all that, really, and it’s hard realizing you’ve had to deal with consequences from my actions. You don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve anything like this.”

You tried to muster up a small smile, trying to assure Bucky you were okay. He didn’t look convinced, though. 

“It’s not ideal, no,” you shrugged, “but it’s leading me to you, so, maybe there’s something in it. I think Fate knows what it’s doing, at least most of the time.”

A little smile just barely formed on Bucky’s lips. It wasn’t much but at least he didn’t look like he was ready to punch a wall in your already run-down apartment. 

“Besides, it’s not all bad,” you continued, wanting to at least bring something positive to this conservation. Bucky raised his brows, curiously. “I did have a nice dream that night after dinner. I saw you reading.”

He looked almost relieved. “I guess all we can do is hope those continue.” A beat. “I’m amazed you even allowed me in your apartment.” 

Your jaw went slack, unsure of where this statement was coming from. “Well of course I do. Why wouldn’t I want that?”

Bucky turned away and that rough look of his came back. Your attempts to lighten everything were taking a nosedive apparently, but you couldn’t ask him to avoid or suppress his feelings. You guessed it was better to get these things out in the open.

Bucky eventually asked, “How can you just be okay with everything?” 

This time, you looked away, turning to look out the window opposite of you two. The rain was still coming down steadily. “You haven’t really given me a reason to not be okay with everything.”

Your words were bold, the conversation was bold, and to keep with the theme, you boldly grabbed his hand to hold. You ran your thumb over the back of it in circular motions, trying to calm him. He didn’t pull away, thankfully. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I-I get nervous about all this.”

You chuckled softly, “Me too.”

Bucky hummed, contently. He leaned in a bit closer to you and gave your hand a squeeze. You shifted into his side, wrapping your other hand around his arm, accepting the closeness of you two. 

You decided to break the comfortable silence, trying your magic once again to carry a brighter conversation. “Why didn’t you tell Steve about us?”

Unexpectedly, Bucky chuckled lowly at the question. Your interest peaked greatly. 

“Forgive me if I just want to explore all this new territory with you and only you.” 

“New territory?”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was rolling his eyes. “You just want me to say it again.”

You let out a fake, dramatic gasp. “James, you’re ridiculous.”

You heard him chuckle. His body shifted slightly closer to you. “I want to explore this… this soulmate thing with you. Only you. At least for now. Down the line, I have no problem showing you off but for now… It’s us.”

Soulmate. Us. 

The words rang happily in your ears. Now it really felt real. Him acknowledging it truly, wholeheartedly, and not just in the heat of an argument made shivers run through your body. 

“Us,” you repeated, a goofy grin unable to be suppressed came about on your lips. “I’m okay with that.” You let out a bit of a dreamy sigh. “You know, this all feels really new and really old at the same time.”

Bucky chuckled, “I think that’s how these things work, right?” His other hand came to lay on top of yours gently. “We feel like we’ve known each other for years because, well, I think in some twisted way we kind of have.”

You contemplated the idea, realizing you felt that very deeply. You had and had not known him for almost your whole life. While Bucky wasn’t in the exact form you learned about him in, there was something within him, the actual him, you felt you knew like the back of your hand. 

“We need to go out again,” you finally said, worried continuing with such sentiments would make you emotional for the millionth time tonight. Bucky seemed to welcome this change.

“Are you asking me out on a second date, sweetheart?”

Butterflies filled your stomach. “Well, you weren’t making any move to do it,” you shrugged, shooting Bucky a playful look. He responded with a dramatic eye roll. 

“Maybe I like a woman who takes charge,” he said, shooting you an award-winning, knowing smirk. 

You gasped, your neck suddenly getting hot. Actually, you felt much of yourself getting warm from the little innuendo hidden within his tone. Words were suddenly getting lost on your tongue as your brain short-circuited. You mumbled, “A second date could definitely be fun.”

Bucky let out a room-filling laugh at your sudden nervousness. The twinkle in his eyes told you he would enjoy making these little teasing comments to you from now on. 

“How about tomorrow night, doll? Good night for a second date, don’t you think? Assuming you actually want to see me after tonight’s fiasco.”

You nodded, ignoring his self-deprecation. You couldn’t talk it out of him so actions maybe had to speak louder. “What should we do?”

Bucky waved a hand in dismissal. “You let me handle it. I’ll surprise you.”

“I thought you liked it when a woman took charge?” Now your smirk was just as evil and mischievous. Bucky raised his brows in surprise but rolled with it. He had quite the silver tongue you found. 

“Sure do,” he said, “but a man still has to make sure he takes care of his lady, too.”

You giggled and cozied up into his side, very much enjoying the sound of that. “Fine. Take the reins, Bucky.”

[wizkiddx]

two beautiful girls

someone asked for me to try dad!tom again so here's my humble attempt, I really really hope it doesn't disappoint but honestly I didn’t spend a lot of time on it before my brain turned to mush :) hope everyones okay... today seems to have felt particularly shitty for no real reason, but sending lots o love <3

dad!tomholland x reader

Summary: dealing with your daughter while tom’s away is tricky to say the least, but its all worth it when the three of u are reunited again // fluff (and maybe angst if u squint rlly hard)

(I can’t work out where this pic is from to credit but pls lmk if it’s yours/ u know)

Normally, hearing the door turn in the lock of your front door was one of the best sensations in the world. No matter how long Tom had been away for you would always be filled with such a sense of relief and warmth just by knowing he was there. Sometimes it’d be after he left only a couple of hours previous for a two hour meeting; or after a quick long weekend in New York for an event; ranging to a two and half month block of shooting across the globe. Especially since little Nova was born, your longing for Tom was only quadrupled because you also had a complete ‘daddy’s girl’ pining after him too. 

Tom had only been away for a couple of nights, yet your 18 month daughter seemed to think she’d been abandoned for months on end. She had slept for less than 6 hours each day and as much as you tried to appeal to her wise and intellectual side (which didnt really exist - she was only 18 months) that sleep would pass the time till his return ; she was having absolutely none of it. Nova kept you up for hours and hours, screaming, screeching and wailing because you weren’t as ‘funny’ as daddy or as soft as her daddy. And what does a sleep deprived baby lead to…? A grumpy baby. She refused to eat which was so awful because then you felt as if you were neglected your child. 

It just made you feel a bit of a failure, to be quite frank. The house was a mess - you’d tried almost every toy to cheer her up, which Nova had actually found great joy in launching back at your face in spite. You were a mess too - at one point, who knows when, you had tied your hair back but now flyaways were everywhere as it pulled itself out of the grasp of the too-loose scrunchie. Oh and then there was the babyfood Nova had kindly spat all over your shirt. 

It had been a really fun three days. 

It was therefore counter intuitive, the fact that Tom’s homecoming only filled you with dread. But you didnt want him to think your were a failure. You were supposed to be Novas mum after all, why must things be so hard when they’re supposed to be all natural and easy? She hadn’t even reached the terrible twos phase yet - that seemed like a far off hellish nightmare you were trying to avoid thinking of. Of course, you loved loved loved Nova - she was already growing up so fast that it actually hurt your heart a little, to think of how much in even a week she’d grown. 

But it was still fair to say she’d been a little devil this week. 

This evening you had finally managed to tempt her to sit in the high chair, she’d had about two mouthfuls when you heard Tom entering. Thats exactly what you needed, Tom to get her all over excited so she wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t go down and wouldn’t let you rest. In the madness of it all, you hadn’t managed to even attempt to clean up the sea of toys either so Tom would immediately have all your failings before his eyes. Just bloody great. 

“Where are my two beautiful girls?” 

Like clockwork, he’d always say it and Nova would always gurgle out a “dada” just as she did today. Though this time she kicked her legs in desperation, momentarily looking at you with the kindest eyes she’d given you the week. It was only because she wanted something, you knew that, yet you still gave in. With a sigh you stood up and unclipped her from the high chair, even if this was the first time in a good few days she’d been happily eating her dinner. Or rather, had taken the single first bite. 

She had something to show her Dad though. When he’d left she still didnt have certain skills, capabilities that only now she had learnt. Nova was very proud of her knew ability to kick things - recently discovered when you were attempting to put her shoes on to go to the supermarket. Instead, after 5 attempts of her impressively booting them across the room you’d surrendered - Nova walked round the shops barefoot (probably a bit irresponsible on your part but desperation calls). 

So now she giggled whilst hurtling through the room, as Tom rounded the corner in grey joggers and a black hoodie. You watched his eyes light up, whilst he knelt down at the door way to welcome your curly haired princess into his arms. With all her force, she barrelled into him , her little arms wrapping as far around his broad chest as she could. Immediately Tom reciprocated, pulling her up into his arms and swaying slightly side to side. 

“Hey little one, I missed you!” He was positively grinning from ear to ear as he rose the two of them up , pressing a quick peck to her unruly locks. 

Only then did he look up and survey the surrounding situation, you saw him track his eyes through the mess of toys on the floor, over the counter top piled high with dishes you hadn’t got round to doing and the bin that was overflowing because you just had kept putting off taking it out. It was so embarrassing that you daren’t to even look at him, instead focusing completely on mixing the now lukewarm mush you’d made for Nova round the bowl. Tom slowly picked his way through the hazardous floor, inspecting you closely. It honestly made him feel a pang of guilt, the way you looked beyond exhausted and run down - the dark shadows under your eyes only testament to that. 

“Hey darling.” He spoke softly, keeping Nova pressed to his chest in one arm while the other went to rub your side. “You okay?” Not wanting to disappoint him, you momentarily collected yourself before looking up at him with the a small smile.

“Yeh I’m good. How was the flight?” You knew Tom already saw past your attempt of small talk, the was his eyebrows furrowed slightly being the tell. But before he could question you further Nova started wriggling round in his hold, making him arch back to look at her. 

“Have you been a good girl for mummy little one?” Given your defeated look, Tom was pretty sure he already knew the answer - Nova chose instead of confirming either way to just wriggle some more as she shouted Dada. 

“What you doing crazy?” He chuckled rhetorically, bending down to let her out of his hold, where she then dragged him across the room to the foam mini ball she had. With her still slightly uncoordinated gait, she focused her eyes completely on the ball, her tongue slightly poking out the left corner of her mouth. Then with a forceful yelp she smashed the ball upwards and across the room, flying into a closed cupboard door before bouncing down to the floor. Expectantly Nova’s hazel eyes immediately then searched for her Dad’s - a massive smirk on her face. 

“NO WAY NOVA!!!” He shrieked, running and scooping her up once again, this time spinning her round so her legs flew out- her giggles enough to warm even the coldest heart of stone. “Your right foot is better than Manes!” He laughed, though neither girl in the room getting the football reference- Tom had long since given up hope of you getting invested in football, no matter how hard he had tried. “You’re gonna be the best little footballer Kingston has ever seen!” 

Nova seemed more than fulfilled with his praise, laughing and settling down in his hold whilst he straightened up glancing back at you again. 

“She’s learning so fast.” You mumbled up at him and Tom nodding, taking a seat in the chair next to you. 

“She’s got a pretty impressive teacher!” He tried so hard to perk you up, nudging your side as his gaze felt as though he was boring holes into you. 

Not knowing how to reply to his compliment you left it and the room faded to silence briefly, the atmosphere feeling rather uncomfortable for your marital home. 

“Do you mind finishing off her dinner if I take a shower?” You muttered under your breath, wanting an escape. 

Naturally Tom agreed, even if he watched you walk out the room with a worrisome expression on his face. He knew his job wasn’t easy for you at all. It had been hard enough when it has just the two of you, the long periods apart bore longer on you. Over the time Tom had been acting, he’d become somewhat used to these long periods of absence, it had just become the usual. But for you? You working a normal job meant it was harder. You couldn’t go on double dates with your friends - half the time you boyfriend was across a sea from you. Now though, with Nova, you’d lost someone you grew to depend on. Yes, it might only be for briefer periods of time but it still didn’t feel any easier.  He was effectively leaving you to be a single mother and although his family obviously endeavoured to support you in every way possible. It just wasn’t the same. 

So whilst Nova babbled excitedly her mostly gibberish in the highchair, Tom spent the time sweeping round the kitchen/diner , collecting up the toys into their boxes, loading up the dishwasher and wiping clean the surfaces - all whilst entertaining Nova with brief ‘no reallys’?” And “what ! That’s unbelievable’ and “so what did you tell them?” In response to her baby language babble. His fiery daughter was distracted by the food and one sided chat for all of 20 minutes, letting him just about finish up before she grew impatient of some more attention. 

“So what did you get up to then little miss nuisance?” He asked while wiping her mouth which was now smeared with her tomatoey gloop.

“Went park. Mummy made cookies!!”

“Cookies? No way can I have one?” He did honestly fancy the sound of a cookie, and after lifting her out the seat and onto his lap he looked round the kitchen in search of the baked goods.

“No.” She giggled with a mischievous twinkle in her eye “all gone!!”

“What?!?”

“All gone! Mummy and me drawed too look!” She pointed out the multicoloured scribble of uncoordinated lines spiralling together that had been stuck on the fridge. 

“Oooh that’s beautiful darling what else did you do?”

“Mummy and me played paw patrol! Mummy was silly!” Nova laughed at the memory, Tom squeezing her up into his chest again loving how bloody precious she was. 

“Why was mummy silly?” 

“She did Ryders voice! Mummy voice is better than Daddy’s!” 

“WHAT?!?” Shrieking in offence, Tom tickled her belly until she was squirming on the top of his thighs in fits of laughter, making Tom laugh away too. 

He truly loved his beautiful daughter. 

It took you a good couple of hours to venture downstairs, feeling for some ludicrous reason that you had to pluck up the courage. When you went down, you assumed that Nova had already passed out or was about to - the house was serene and quiet. So in your joggers and one of Tom’s big tees, you crept back down the stairs. Entering the kitchen first to get yourself a water and Tom a beer ( he never didn’t want a beer, especially after a long flight). As you entered, your feet seemed to loose their connection with you body making you halt jerkily, seeing the almost sparkling kithchen. All the toys and general clutter was gone from the floor; the dishes magically vanished, revealing a counter that you’d almost forgotten had existed. What you had done to deserve Tom was beyond you, yet you were so grateful - and  felt a flutter inside your chest as you went back out and into the living room. 

Tom had Nova sat on his thighs, though she was more like slumped against his chest as he tried to lull her to sleep with his deep voice quietly reading one of her superhero books. It had been unavoidable - she’d been indoctrinated into the world of Marvel before she could even talk, Tom insisting on wanting her to know that ‘she could be a superhero too if she wanted to’. The Spiderman baby grow, the captain marvel water bottle- the subtle nods to his roles where impossible to avoid in your house. His warm eyes briefly flicked up when he noticed you standing at the doorway, he paused his sentence to give you a warm smile and nod you over to the sofa beside him.  Still feeling a little self conscious, you stared at the floor while rounding the table and plonking yourself down next to him - allowing just a little gap of space. 

“Thanks for sorting the kitchen, I’m sorry-“

“Don’t worry at all darling” He arched over to you and pressed a quick peck to your forehead before Nova mewled in annoyance of her story being interrupted. He lightly chuckled, bringing the one hand that wasn’t holding the book to brush her unruly curls back off her head. 

Tom kept reading in his soft voice and you let your eyes slip close, just enjoying the peace that you hadn’t experienced in what felt like a lifetime as Tom’s voice lightly hummed through your head. That was until Nova decieded to interrupt the calm just once more. She grumbled insistently and squirmed in her Dads lap, before heavily pulling her head up and blinking at you - holding her arms out expectantly. 

“Think she wants her mum” Tom whispered, already lifting her over to you as you sat slightly bemused by the whole situation. Tom was home, her daddy was home, why did she want you? Tom laughed at your quizzical face as Nova burrowed her nose into you neck, letting out a contented huff. “My girls huh?”

“I promise you this is the first time this weekend she’s acknowledged me as anything more than mrs truchbull!”

“Well she’s spent all evening telling me about how good you are at baking and how your paw patrol voices are better than mine.” He murmured his words lowly, so as not to disturb Nova who was already asleep on your chest.

“She did?”

“She loves her mum… almost as much as I do” Chuckling, Tom wrapped his arm round you, pulling the both of you down to his chest while you swore your heart was exploding. 

“I love you too Tommy” 

Safe to say you and Nova were both exhausted, so after an almost shamefully short time your head rested heavier and heavier on Tom’s shoulder whilst he aimlessly carded his fingers through the ends of your hair. You really were an exceptionally amazing mother, before Nova Tom assumed he couldn’t love you anymore and yet seeing you cuddled up to his baby girl - his feelings for you could only grow infinitely. Making the executive decision to not move either of you upstairs to bed, he instead reached over to grab the blanket. He draped it over himself and his two best girls, choosing to stay in that magical moment for as long as possible. 

He loved his beautiful family of three.

And tess … Tess too ;)

[sparkypantaloons]

The Ice

Five things Bruce taught Jason and one thing Jason taught Bruce. (1/6)

Bruce isn’t sleeping when his bedroom door creaks open. He’s not even pretending, when the small, whimpering child climbs into the bed beside him. Small fingers clutching at his nightclothes, a tuft of curly hair tucked under his chin.

He wraps his arms around the small shaking figure, presses a soft kiss into the hair. “Deep breaths, Jason.” He says softly.

The boy in his arms takes a shuddering breath, clutches tighter to Bruce’s pyjamas. His tears are starting to soak through.

“Sorry.” Jason says. The words are barely a whisper, Bruce feels them in his chest, more than he hears them.

“Hey.” He says, in gentle admonishment. “What have I told you about apologising. There’s nothing to apologise for.”

Jason sniffles again, presses himself further into Bruce’s embrace.

“Try and get some sleep.” Bruce says, and with one arm he tucks the covers around them both.

It’s not the first time Jason’s had a nightmare. It’s not even the first time this week. It’s also not the first time Bruce’s own dreams have kept him from rest. If he’s honest, since the incident last week, he sleeps a lot better with Jason here too.

Jason’s been with him eight months, two weeks and five days. And it’s going well. Really well, in fact.

Jason is everything Bruce was not as a child. He’s loud and full of life, with a mischievous gleam in his eye and a heart of gold in his chest. He’s eager to learn, quick-witted and sharp, already catching up with the smartest in his class, despite the school he’s missed.

He’s funny. God is he funny. He makes Bruce laugh in a way he hasn’t done since Dick was small. With silly impressions, or out-of-the-blue jokes that are way beyond borderline for a twelve year old.

He shows affection with reckless abandon, throwing his arms around Bruce or Alfred’s necks or waists, whatever he can reach. Pressing kisses into cheeks, squeezing their hands in his, or dazzling them with a brilliant smile. Like he's been so full of love his whole life and just needed someone to give it to.

And he trusts them. Alfred and Bruce. Trusts that he is secure with them, loved by them, where he should be, with them. With each passing day, more of his personality shines through, as he starts to build his home, his life, there with them in the Manor. Warm, and full, and safe at last.

Bruce had hoped… when he took the kid in, he had hoped that he could give Jason what he needed. That he could make up, in some small way, for all the ways Jason had already been failed. By his parents, by the police, by social workers, by Gotham. Hoped he could give Jason something, that would make up for the years before. He just never counted on how much Jason would give him. Because Bruce adores him, and as the quiet tears turn to gentle snores in his arms, he already dreads letting go come morning.

It's late autumn, the leaves have already fallen from the trees. The first frost of the season had descended on the Manor and it had been a harsh one, killing the last of the late summer blooms that were still hanging on.It had only been a week ago, that first frost, but it's only with Jason's warm body held close that Bruce can shake the chill, even now.

It had been that next morning, the Manor grounds glittering silver, when Jason and Bruce had been working their vegetable patch. Now nearly empty, after they’d picked their carrots and pumpkins and squash. Bruce’s pumpkin had been biggest, but Jason’s carrots had tasted the best.

Ace was out too, running up and down the garden, chasing squirrels, barking good naturedly up trees. There was only so much interest an eleven year old could show in weeding an all but empty vegetable garden. Before long Bruce had shooed Jason off to play with the dog, whilst he knelt in the soil, picking out frozen slugs and other undesirables.

He could hear Jason laughing with the dog. Wrestling with the old Alsatian every time he refused to drop the manky, old tennis ball they were playing fetch with. Jason had a strong arm, but Ace, despite his age, had more energy than even an eleven year old, and before long Jason’s throws became more haphazard.Bruce hadn’t seen what had happened, had only heard it, half listening in the way all parents do. Jason had thrown, but Ace seemingly hadn’t got the ball. “C’mon Acey.” Jason had cooed, “Get the ball.” Before there was a good natured humph, the dog seemingly refuse to do as asked.

The next Bruce had known, Ace was baying manically and Bruce was sprinting from the vegetable patch, because those were warning barks. Ace was a little down the garden, over by the swimming pool, Jason nowhere to be seen.

No. The single word repeated itself in Bruce’s mind as he ran across the frozen grass. No, no, no, no, no.The world went silent as he reached the pool. Panic drowning out Ace’s barks. The thin layer of ice across the surface was cracked open, Jason below the water, still and unmoving.

Bruce yelled. He doesn’t know what. Jason’s name. Maybe Alfred’s. Maybe just an angry, desperate noise, wrenched out of his throat at the thought that someone else he loved was being taken from him.

He careened into the pool. Half wading, half swimming, arms desperately reaching for Jason. He didn’t feel the cold. Didn’t feel the wet. Could only feel the all consuming panic as his fingers finally, finally closed around Jason’s arm, dragged him to the surface.

“Hold on, Jay-lad. Hold on.” He said loudly, and kept saying as he pushed through the icy water to the pool edge, a thousand terrible scenarios running through his mind.

By some miracle, none of them came to pass. Jason had started coughing up water before Bruce was out of the pool, tears joining the water running down his face.

It had been later, sat by the fire in the drawing room, wrapped in blankets and Bruce’s arms, Jason had quietly wept. Whispering over and over “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” into Bruce’s chest.

“You never go out onto the ice, Jason.” Bruce had said. “Never. No matter what.”

But of course Jason wouldn’t know. What pools of water were there in Crime Alley, what frozen lakes or rich idiot swimming pools were there to learn from? Jason had never even left Gotham, had never crossed the river until he came to the Manor. Had never even been to the river, could never know the dangers beneath a frozen surface... Why hadn’t Bruce explained it to him the second they got outside? Why hadn't he had the damn pool cover fixed at least? Why hadn’t he been watching Jason more closely? He should have been playing with the kid, with his— with his son, not picking frozen slugs out of the ground whilst his darling boy drowned.

Except that was the other thing. Because it wasn’t just about not going out on to the ice, never, ever, no matter what. It was that Jason couldn’t swim either. He hadn’t said as much, always casually finding a reason to avoid the water over the summer months. But Bruce wasn’t called the world’s greatest detect for fun. He should be called the world’s biggest idiot. Having an open pool of water around an eleven year old who couldn’t swim. Having not even booked swimming lessons for the eleven year old who couldn’t swim.

Who did he even think he was? Thinking he could be a father to this child. Give him what he needed. He’d already failed fatherhood with Dick, ruined what had been the most important relationship in his life, with his own stupid pig-headedness. And here he was, arrogant enough to risk doing the same again. Stupid enough to—

“B?” Jason stirs in his arms, bringing Bruce back to the present. Interrupting the sixth consecutive night of him reliving the kid’s almost death. Putting an end to the self-loathing diatribe he now has down to a tee.

“Mm?” He can feel Jason’s eyelashes flutter against his neck.

“Thank you.” Jason says softly. “For saving me.”

Bruce has lost count of how many times Jason has broken his heart, but he adds another to the list. “You don’t have to thank me, Jason. I will always save you. Always.”

You can read the rest of this fic here https://archiveofourown.org/works/34213801/chapters/85127050

[themoonandotherslikeit]

Painted - Chapter One

“Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter.” - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Y/N has moved on, her scars are barely noticeable anymore, and she’s finally stable. Or at least she was.

10 years after the worst day of her life, Y/N found herself staring face to face with an unimaginable horror. In the wake of her worst nightmare come to life, she finds herself reunited with the man that saved her all those years ago - Agent Dean Winchester who had left her a decade before broken and wanting.

Dean Winchester has spent the last 10 years trying desperately to forget Y/N and the tragedy that he pulled her out of, but when she called asking for his help he dropped everything to come to her aid as he knew he always would.

Can Y/N and Dean solve the mystery that has resurfaced after all this time? Will they be able to resist the pull between them? Or will this be the final brush strokes on a canvas, sealing their fate for good?

No Beta currently, all mistakes are my own!

Pairing: Dean/Reader

Tags: Dark!Fic, Agent!Dean, Serial Killer Fic, Smut etc.

Chapter One

Everything has a color. To Y/N, violence was red. She pulled back her arm, her fist colliding with the heft of her punching bag with a soft thud . One, two, kick. She liked training alone, it centered her, cleared her mind. She didn’t have to worry about pulling her punches, avoiding the knees when she kicked. The biggest danger was the skin on her knuckles, which were expertly wrapped.

It all started as self defense, a way to ease her mind as she walked back to her Jeep on the dark nights, but it had evolved to something else altogether. She didn’t fight because she was afraid, she fought because she was pissed . She was pissed that she had to learn to defend herself; that other women did. She taught classes so that her community would be safe, so that they’d find less women abandoned in ditches beaten to death.

But when she was alone, it was something else completely. The why of the thing was a mystery most of the time, even to her. People used to ask her if she was afraid she would see him again. She wasn't, not really. But she kept fighting anyway, and she would be lying if his face wasn’t the one she pictured every time her fist collided with the bag.

The beat of her music throbbed in her ears like an angry heartbeat as she went for an uppercut that rattled the bag. She was panting, sweat rolling down her temple. Each hit was a beat of her heart, causing the bag to come alive. With each swing she made, it swung back at her. She was strong, and she wasn’t holding back. One, two, kick.

Her watch chimed to alert her that she hit her workout goal for the day, but she had more fire within her that needed to be extinguished. It was a long workout, even for her, but she had a lot on her mind. If she was thinking about the ache of her knuckles and burning in her biceps, she was less likely to obsess over the things she couldn’t control. So she hit the bag again and again.

The sun was starting to speckle through the blinds on the storefront window, making the sweat on her arms glisten like diamonds. She considered, just for a moment, how the coast would look against the purples and oranges of the sunrise. She could have a coffee and just enjoy the silence. Or she could keep fighting. That answer was easy. She didn’t have time to appreciate the beauty in life. She hadn’t for a long time. All of the colors had lost their brightness, the depth that he used to talk about so frequently. The thing that kept him mixing until it was just right.

She hadn’t thought of him in so long, so when the thought came to her, she didn’t react fast enough to the bag swinging back toward her from her last hit. It collided directly with her face, sending her backwards onto the mat. A loud, painful crack echoed through her skull as her nose collided with the bag. She laid there for a moment, groaning. She tried to sit up, her nose throbbing and her mouth filling with blood from the hit. “Fuck me,” she whispered to no one in particular.

Trauma was black. According to her therapist, there were different types of trauma. Y/N learned that they all could be sorted into one of three main categories: acute trauma that results from a single incident, chronic trauma that is repeated and prolonged such as domestic violence or abuse, and complex trauma which is exposure to varied and multiple traumatic events, often of an invasive, interpersonal nature. More so, there was capital T trauma and what she called little t trauma . Capital T was the big stuff, the stuff that wrecks a person in an irreparable way. Little t was less so. It is possible for a traumatized person to get over a little t trauma.

In Y/N’s life she’d seen her fair share of trauma. Probably more than a thirty-three year old woman should’ve. She’d seen trauma happen to others, happen to herself, and continue to happen in case after case that she worked. She saw trauma that others didn’t. The kind of trauma that couldn’t be seen from the outside. The kind of trauma that a person inflicts upon themselves.

She was always told that trauma healed over time, like a bruise, but for her, trauma was a cut that kept reopening. It was a scab that she couldn’t stop picking at, a bruise that seemed to deepen to a darker purple before it ever yellowed. Her eyes stung from the hit, and she wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

The only way she knew how to heal was to move on, leave the trauma behind. Her therapist told her to imagine herself placing the memories in a box and locking them away. Sometimes, when she was alone, she could hear that box screaming, banging, and begging to be opened. She resisted the urge, especially today.

She forced herself to stand, her head spinning. She leaned against the wall to regain her balance before she walked out to her car, her head tilted back. She could feel the blood roll down the back of her throat since it was unable to escape her nostril. She’d be pissed if she broke her nose, but, from what she could tell, it seemed intact even though it hurt like a bitch.

Her headphones were askew, but still playing her workout mix. She adjusted them and spit some blood from her mouth. She wouldn’t be thwarted by a fall; no, she wouldn’t be taken down so easily. If she fell in the gym and no one was there to witness her humiliation, did she even fall? The answer to that depended on if anyone would notice her bruised nose after the fact. If they didn’t, as far as she was concerned, she had a perfect refreshing work out with no issues whatsoever. Maybe with enough makeup her secret would remain her own.

10 years earlier

The sound of his paintbrush swiping delicately against canvas was soothing to Y/N. She sat on the edge of the bed, atop black satin sheets, resting on her hands, her back arched and her legs spread just right. Her long strawberry hair fell down her shoulders in loose waves onto the sheets.

“Just like that,” Lucifer murmured, a blonde wave falling into his eye. He was focused, his tongue partially out of his mouth, his eyebrows knitted together. She wasn’t able to see the painting from her vantage point, but she knew what it was. It was always the same. I just can’t get you right, he’d complain, his voice laced with pain and disdain. She thought he made her more beautiful than she ever could be on her own.

When she’d met him, he was so focused on his art. He would eat, sleep, and drink his paintings. His clothing was speckled with oil colors, his fingers calloused from gripping paint brushes for hours on end. She found him sexy and mysterious. She was dying to know the man behind such beautiful pieces of art.

It didn’t take long for his obsession to shift from his art directly to her. He doted on her endlessly, showering her in flowers, candy, candlelight dinners. They made love constantly. He couldn’t get enough of her.

“Let me paint you, Y/N,” he’d purr between her legs. “I just want to paint you.” It took her weeks to say yes. She’d always brush him off, blushing and insecure. “You’re exquisite. Please let me paint you.”

She struggled to deny Lucifer’s requests when he asked as his breath tickled the inside of her thigh. It was hard to deny him of anything , if she was being honest. The first time she said yes, he arrived in her bedroom and asked her to drop the floral robe she was wearing. He’d seen her naked dozens of times, but she was still nervous, vulnerable, staring at him. She brought him a bag, insisting that he look inside before she disrobed.

He stared at the bag, confused.

“They’re body paints,” she explained. “I thought you wanted to paint me.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. They made love on the apartment floor, painting designs on each other's skin until she was swollen and wanting, gasping his name into the night.

When she woke up in the early hours of the morning, she found him painting her image onto a canvas laying splayed out, covered in swirls of sex and paint. “Don’t move,” he instructed calmly. She wanted to be angry, but she still felt drunk from being ravished, and his eyes examining her were sensual and slow. She watched his wrist spin and curl, and a chill ran up her spine.

“Lucifer, how much longer? ”

“You’re just so beautiful, Y/N. You know that, right?”

“No,” she murmured, and his eyebrows knitted together.

“We will fix that,” he promised. “You will always be this beautiful.” He was talking to her, she logically knew that, but from her vantage point she could’ve sworn he was speaking to the canvas.

Present

Y/N entered the code to unlock the front gate to her property, leaning half out her car window. Thankfully, her bleeding had stopped, but her upper lip and chin were still crusty with blood. She looked like a mess, if she was being honest, but the only one there to judge her was her chocolate brown pit bull, Castiel, and Y/N figured that Cas wouldn’t care much either way.

The iron gate opened with a groan, sliding to her right. She slid back into her seat and shifted out of park to pull forward down the driveway toward her house. It was modest, nothing too big or magnificent. The outside was grey brick, a two story home with a large green yard and a pool in the back. As she pulled up, she could already see Castiel’s nose pressed against the window, her head through the thick curtains. Y/N smiled, her heart warming at the sight. She wiggled her fingers at Castiel in a small wave.

Castiel greeted her at the door, his tail wagging excitedly. She knelt down to pet his chin only to be met with deep blue eyes and a pink tongue. “I know, buddy. I need to shower somethin’ fierce.”

She kissed his nose and murmured. “I’m good. We’re good.” Half the time she wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince. She locked the front door behind her and kicked off her shoes. Her arms ached and her heartbeat was still residing in her sinus from her fall. She let her hair out of the tie that kept it up in a high ponytail, letting it fall down her back. Her head was sore from her hair being up for hours. She massaged her scalp with a wince. Everything hurt and she couldn’t wait to wash her problems down the drain and start fresh.

Her work out clothes were discarded on the bathroom floor, the sound of running water and the steam accumulating in the air were already starting to soothe her. She took a deep breath in through her nose with a wince before stepping into the shower and closing the curtain behind her.

Y/N faced the water, letting the heat roll down her skin. The water ran brown from sweat and blood. She braced her hands on the walls of the shower to keep herself steady. She closed her eyes, letting the baptism wash her worries away. Time has a way of wrecking a person, she knew that much. It gave a false sense of security, a sense of growth and change. She spent so much time trying to put her past behind her, locked away inside of a box.

She opened her eyes and looked at the half sleeves covering her wrists and forearms. The flowers and vines twisting around her arms, climbing, and growing out of thick, pink scars - creating something beautiful out of tragedy. She had hoped, when she got them, that they would help her heal and forget. She could laugh now at that naive girl who thought anything would let her forget. Time heals wounds, yes, but the greatest ones still ached in the cold and the rain.

Suds from soap and shampoo swirled down the drain, and she reached down to turn off the water. She wrapped her hair in a towel and slipped into her robe. She could hear Castiel whine outside of the bathroom door, unusually unhappy with not being able to see her. “You’re good, Cas,” she called out, wiping the fog from the mirror. She examined her nose. It was a little swollen and already beginning to bruise. She cursed to herself and just hoped that it’d be dull enough that her painted foundation would cover it. The last thing she needed was to worry those around her.

Castiel scratched at the door again, and she opened it, her dog circling her legs impatiently. “What is your deal?” Y/N reached down and scratched behind her ear, eliciting licks from Castiel.

Towel drying her hair, she stepped out of the bathroom and rounded the corner. Her eyes were heavy, and her head pounded from the hit. She needed coffee, bad . As she turned the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks, her towel falling from her hand. Castiel whined insistently, nudging Y/N’s leg with his nose. She stared face to face with something so familiar that it made her gut tighten, acid crawling up her throat.

A painting hung at her eye level in the hallway near the bathroom. Fine brush strokes of pale peach skin, strawberry twists of hair splayed out on black satin sheets, flushed cheeks, parted lips, and freckled legs spread out, exposing a delicate pink vagina tucked between them.

Y/N stared at herself. Her eyes closed, her swollen mouth, her pink cheeks on a face and head that belonged to her. Her freckled neck blended downwards onto heavy breasts with dark nipples and a mole under the right that she’d never seen before.

Her knees were weak, and she stumbled back, bumping into Castiel and tumbling backwards. She fell, hitting her tailbone on the wood floors with a hard smack . Tears burned in her eyes, from pain or fear she wasn’t sure. Castiel came to her, licking her cheek in concern.

Anxiety crept into her chest, pressing down heavily. She gasped for breath and clamped her eyes shut. She pictured the box inside of her mind, thrashing and pulsing with anger, begging to be opened. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she forced herself to stand on shaking legs. She made her way to her bedroom and quickly spun the code on her safe, pulling her gun from it. She clicked the safety off and held it in front of her.

With each room that she checked she only found an emptiness that overtook her home with a heaviness that seemed to engulf her completely. Nothing seemed strange or out of place other than the large depiction of her naked body that hung on her wall.

She kept her gun positioned outward and pulled out her cellphone, dialing the number that she could never forget. All she could hope for was an answer, and as a ring met her ear she let out a sigh of relief. It had been so long, she had expected a disconnected tone. She pressed the phone closer to her ear as she heard his voice.

“Y/N?”

“He’s back.”

------

Chapter Two

Read on A03 Here

Tag List: @lyarr24

@dean-winchesters-bacon

@waywardbaby @akshi8278

[lorei-writes]

Lost Letters

Masamune x MC Fluff Parts of this work include suggestive content. [To avoid suggestive content, skip the following months: May, January.] Word Estimate: 2k

Honourable Customers,

We are pleased to inform You all the lost letters were successfully delivered.

Your trustworthy messengers, Azuchi-Kasugayama Postal Service Crew

Content Warnings: war mention, injury mention, suggestive content, food mention, anxiety mention

To my beloved Masamune. It is March now, and the frost has begun its retreat from the air. You are not here, and I do not expect to send this letter… Yet I miss you so much the words seem to be writing themselves without much help. In this very moment, I wish I could ask how your day was. It is one of those rare instances where I miss modern technology – my helplessness is simply disarming me completely. I console myself with the thought that you will be back tonight. I missed seeing your face so bad. There are so many things I want to tell you, my heart is overflowing. I don’t think I should let any of them spill, yet I cannot hold all either. So, even if just on this paper, I must confess: I love you, Masamune. I love you so much it hurts. I could not focus on anything but your return the entire day. I cannot let you see this letter. You will never let me forget it. Although maybe... Maybe I should.

To my beloved Masamune.

It is March now, and the frost has begun its retreat from the air. You are not here, and I do not expect to send this letter… Yet I miss you so much the words seem to be writing themselves without much help.

In this very moment, I wish I could ask how your day was. It is one of those rare instances where I miss modern technology – my helplessness is simply disarming me completely. I console myself with the thought that you will be back tonight. I missed seeing your face so bad. There are so many things I want to tell you, my heart is overflowing.

I don’t think I should let any of them spill, yet I cannot hold all either. So, even if just on this paper, I must confess: I love you, Masamune. I love you so much it hurts. I could not focus on anything but your return the entire day.

I cannot let you see this letter. You will never let me forget it. Although maybe... Maybe I should.

~

To my courageous Masamune.

It is April now, and you came back all beaten and tattered. Your muscles tensed whenever I touched your skin. The disinfectant seeping into your cuts did not help either, I suppose… But you hugged me tight all the same, and did not let go for long. Your breath tickled my neck as you held your ear pressed against my pulse. I wonder, how bad was it this time? But do not get me wrong. I do not mind, I can stay in your arms for however long you desire.

This time, however, it was different. I cannot describe the feeling that I felt when you looked up at me and simply said you feel terrible and need rest. You… Appeared so vulnerable? And I know it never comes easy to you to be in this state.

I love you so much. Thanks for coming back yet once again. I am writing this as you sleep only a few meters away. Please, rest well – and thank you for trusting me yet once again.

~

To my flirtatious Masamune.

It is May now, and the weather has got quite warm already. However, my dear tiger, treat this as a note of complaint! Although… You will never see it, hopefully. You would see all the other ones then.

Never mind that! How dare you! You big, unruly, sneaky…!!! You know my knees get weak when you kiss me, and yet…! In the middle of the crowd, at that! Truly, my “knees were not a problem” as you put it after lifting me up, but my face surely was! I was red like a crab, Masamune!

How dare you uphold that air of coolness! If it were not for what you whispered… Curse that too, argh! Surely, nobody realised, and you always walk this fast, but… But it is the next morning, and I still am a mess after all the things you did to me the last night!

How dare you stay on my mind even now. Well, you did leave some marks, so surely, it is hard not to think of it, but… ! I want to lay in your arms a little longer, but alas. You had to start work early today of all days…

~

To my caring Masamune.

It is June now, and somehow, I managed to catch a cold. It is nothing much, really, but you insist I don’t leave bed today… Honestly, I feel a little guilty, but I am enjoying myself. You’re spoiling me quite a lot, my love, and I can hardly oppose it…

You brought some of your work here, so that you could watch over me while I napped. You checked my fever, brought me more covers when I was cold, even got Shogetsu to cuddle me up. When I woke up, you cooked me porridge, and I don’t know what rituals you did in the kitchen,  but it was beyond delicious. Or perhaps I’m getting better?

My eyelids are heavier and heavier… And you’re insisting I stop writing and cuddle with you now. You didn’t want to move to sleep in a separate bed either…  How could I refuse? I swear, tiger, some may say you hardly care, but whenever I see you acting like this, my heart beats faster.

~

To my curious Masamune.

It is July now, and this is both a letter of praise, and of complaint. For somebody who learns so fast, you surely never learnt not to get taken away by challenges. However, here end my complaints, as it… Surely is quite entertaining.

We are still running away from our own allies now. We have just settled for the night, and you are calling for me to come eat and sit with you by the fire. Have I ever told you you are the most beautiful when you are free and wild? No? Because your eye sparkles so gorgeously now.

You’ve made me appreciate so many new sides of life. I love sharing it with you, both the good and the bad. I don’t know what you’ve made, but let’s be honest, there are only starts above us and I couldn’t care any less about food right now.

Yes, yes, I’m coming, you impatient cat…

~

To my hardworking Masamune.

It is August now, and you are swarmed with work. I do not know how you manage to stay on top of it… But truly, you seem tired now. You set off early, and come back late, and it takes little before you fall asleep.

You… You cannot know it, but each night, you return my embrace quite strongly, even if deep slumber has already claimed you. You are adorable – your nose crinkles slightly whenever I kiss your forehead. I started telling you I love you, and you usually mumble back that you love me too… Then you generally get a little upset and nuzzle into my neck, and sometimes scoff about some pillows or radishes, whichever one it is this time around.

I must never reveal the fact that you talk in your sleep if you are tired enough. What if you forbid me from ever indulging in it ever again? I don’t think I could live without it anymore.

Signed,

Your Beautiful Futon

~

To my joyous Masamune.

It is September now! I want to go celebrate with you, so this letter will be brief:

Thank you for having been born, Masamune.

Please, live a long life. I want to love you plenty more. I need to love you plenty more. To hear you laugh, to see your smile… Your happiness is infectious, and I want for it to last for as long as it can.

~

To my resilient Masamune.

It is October now, and it came in sour, as if to balance the joy of the previous month. This battle was harsh. You emerged victorious, but at what price? So many were lost… Although I think you would care even for a single person just as much. War is a dreadful thing, to say the least. You know it better than I will ever be able to. That is why you protect me from it, is it not? I wish I could carry half your burden...

When you returned, you only latched onto my wrist. Your hands were cold, and you looked almost lost. Were you scared that I would be gone too? My love, my heart… You held yourself together bravely the entire time, but I am glad you let yourself unwind once in our quarters. I needed to feel that you were alive too.

I helped you wash, and you seemed to relax when I ran my fingers through your wet hair. Perhaps the bath was a good idea in the end. I hope no nightmares come your way today – but if any do, I will do my best to chase them all away. I know you would do great by yourself… But I love you, so please, do share some of your concerns.

~

To my grumpy Masamune.

It is November now, and oh my, I got to pay you back for how sweetly you cared for me when I was ill. It appears it was your time, my love. I did not expect you to resist so much! “Sleep in a different room”?! As if I would even consider that much! But… You were quite sweet once you caved in. If we were in the future, I would give you a good patient badge!

Kojuro came in later too. You were so adorable when he started telling stories from your childhood! Ah, and you were locked in bed, so for once, I got a chance to actually listen to them too! A shy little Masamune… I wish cameras were a thing in this time.

It was a good day, but please, do not fall ill much. I will always care for you, it is only that… As much as your pouts were a sight to behold, I love your content smile even more. I will have to make some of today up to you.

~

To my thoughtful Masamune.

It is December now, and you surprised me yet once again. I do know we celebrated Christmas together once, but I did not expect for you to hold onto the idea. This time, you organised everything by yourself, with your own twists to everything.

The party was great – the music, the food, the gifts, I loved every single moment of it. You dressed well too, and I swear, you look even more handsome in the more so festive clothes. It was just cool enough for me to shamelessly cuddle into your side as well… Did you plan that as well?

I must thank you for the gift tomorrow. You must have had ordered this fabric months in advance. It… It really feels amazing knowing that you truly listen to what I say. I love you, Masamune. Somehow, you have this way of making me feel loved even without using any words.

~

To my adventurous Masamune.

It is January now, and winters in this part of the country tend to grow rather harsh. The snow is thick, and it seemingly keeps on falling, and falling… I did not expect for you to suggest taking a trip, much less one to the hot springs.

I do not know what heated me up more – your kisses or the water. Good thing we retreated to our room fast, otherwise we could be thrown out of the estate. I am quite relaxed after we have made love… Perhaps my initial fear of you suggesting doing it in the snow was completely unfounded. Well, you would not force me to go forward with it anyway, but your drive for novelty is infectious at times.

You went out to get some food for us to share, and I am still lying in bed. The pillow smells of you, and the covers are pleasantly warm from our shared heat. I think you will want to slide right next to me once you are back, will you not? I know you do better with cold than the heat, but is it not too tempting? Ah, I think I can hear your steps… I wonder, what are those plans for tomorrow you have made.

~

To my calm Masamune.

It is February now. You seem to be at home plenty, and I welcome the change. We cook together nearly everyday, and I am enjoying it a lot. At first, those were more of classes than anything else, but now… We recreated some of the future dishes I told you about. Is that not amazing? You truly could be a chef in my original time.

However! Today I shall take my revenge! Just you wait and see, Masamune Date! I will pay you back for all those hugs from behind, and “sampled dishes”, and for all those “you seem to have a bit of the sauce over your lips”! I prepared something you did not expect yourself, and you have made me this devil!

I hope I can get this surprised face out of you. It should be tasty enough for that? I should carry it to you before it gets cold…

~

To my beloved Masamune.

It is March again, and I love you all the same.

Tag list: @datenoriko, @nad-zeta, @tsubaki3192, @missjudge-me, @ikemencrossedmyth, @nuttytani, @thesirenwashere, @milas-imaginarium, @kisara-16, @yukas-clover, @alerialumina , @cheese-ception , @iamryxx, @cottonfluffballofdoom, @ozziegrl71, @rikumorimachisgirl, @bestbryn, @kink-rabbithole  @ikesenfangirl @themysticalbeing If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)! ^^ Also, do remember to specify fandoms (and characters, if you are interested only in some) :D If it ever happens that you wish to be removed from my taglist, for any reason, do let me know. I will not ask why, it’s all fine ^^

[the-bat-collector]

SUPERBAT Rec List!! AU NO POWERS ish PART 2

No Powers or No Capes (There are some minor exceptions but I think this still applies)

Soo it’s become harder to find these fics and I kept postponing making this list just in case I found moreeeee. After some time convincing myself I decided that If I find more I’ll just make a part 3.

Here is the link to Part 1 Post

So without further ado. Here you go!

Storge by ichikonohakko @ichikonohakko

G - 3,310

Storge (storgē, Greek: στοργή) is liking someone through the fondness of familiarity, family members or people who relate in familiar ways that have otherwise found themselves bonded by chance. An example is the natural love and affection of a parent for their child.

Or the story of how Clark Kent meets the Wayne family children.

So this was in my mark for later and I read it as I was making this list and it’s very cute and adorable and highly recommend it! 

don't you know an apparition is a cheap date by knoxoursavior  @clqrkkent

E - 39,385

Clark has been able to see ghosts since he was eight, just a few days before his Pa died in his sleep. Years later, after having moved to the city with Martha to pursue writing, Clark meets Bruce Wayne, who takes an interest in his work and Clark in particular. Not long after they meet, Bruce asks Clark to marry him and Clark moves into a mansion that has more ghosts than it has people.

So I couldn’t find more AUs for this list, I was about to quit looking and yesterday I ran into this one and it gave me so much hope that there might be more out there (part 3?maybe?) I think of this as Ghost Whisperer Clark 

Stories for the Loved and Lost by MatchaMochi @renaimori 

M - 9,681

The first chapter leads Clark to another, and another. He turns the pages, eating the words up hungrily and feeling them, pored over the story as if he was reading someone’s personal diary. And the thing was, he knows it, he knows this story. He remembers flashes of memory that aren’t his, thrown in yesterday’s weird dream or last night’s nightmare.

or in which Bruce is an author and Clark is his fanboy.

I WILL read every single SOULMATE AU FIC I CAN FIND CAUSE I’D DIE FOR THIS TROPE. This is beautifully written <3 <3

Ghastly Murders in the East End by dippkip @dippkip

T - 38,227

London, 1888. A vicious killer known as Jack the Ripper has begun haunting the district of Whitechapel. In light of Scotland Yard’s inability to solve the case, intrepid reporter Clark Kent has made it his mission to track down this fiend and bring them to justice, though he may find himself more deeply involved in the affair than he bargained for.

Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne, a seemingly irresponsible and eccentric duke, remains largely unconcerned about these atrocities. The Batman, however, has taken special interest, and spends his nights relentlessly hunting the new murderer at large. The paths of these men will converge as the body count begins to rise, and their investigations and growing affections will cement their bond, intertwining their fates with that of the most notorious murderer in all of England.

OKaaaay this is one of the exceptions, Bruce is Batman but it’s a different century and Clark is powerless, I think it compensates. Usually I prefer when they’re both “capeless” but this was such a fun read. 

As You Grow by dnawhite76 & Prubbs @prubbs​ 

M - 59,946

After the death of his wife and children, Clark returns to the United States after spending years abroad to reconnect with his friends and their families. And while trying to gather what little remains of his old life and possibly move forward in his grief, he ends up falling into old habits with his first love and best friend, Bruce Wayne.

A story about grief and acceptance.

So I want to point out how good this fic is. I hate sad and this story has a lot of grief and I felt it was very grounded on its depictions of feelings. I tend to avoid this type of fics buuuuut this was so good. I couldn’t stop reading even if the grief got to me. It’s very wholesome and does have a satisfying ending. 

A good start by BlueAlmond @discretocincel​

G - 1,253  

Clark loves being an elementary school teacher, but it breaks his heart to see any of his students hurting. So, when he notices Jason waiting over forty minutes every day for someone to pick him up, he decides to have a word with his father.

Absolutely love Professor Trope!!! Sooo you could argue this is ficlet but doesn't feel like one to me so I’m not putting it in the ficlet section. 

Engraved In Our Souls by Nixie_DeAngel @nixie-deangel​

T - 9,004

It started with pain, with warm blood and bold, black letters. How was he to know it'd lead to a pair of gorgeous eyes, shimmering with the promise of life long happiness and love?

Or, after years of waiting, Bruce finds his soulmate in the least likely of places.

Little cute soulmate AU<3  AS I SAID I WILL READ EVERY SINGLE SOULMATE AU OUT THERE CAUSE I LOVE THEM

Ghosts by ren_makoto 

T -3,067

Wayne Manor is haunted. Clark doesn't mind.

Here is another of the exceptions, this is neither No Powers/No Capes, but they’re not relevant to the plot or we don’t see them using them (I don’t think they are mentioned but its implied). The Fic’s whole focus is on the ghosts! and absolutely loved it I LOVE REN MAKOTO FICS

There is Little Danger by ren_makoto

T - 5,327

"It's tradition," he said, one inch from Clark's mouth. "Yes," Clark said. "Tradition."

Or, where Bruce and Clark are trapped in an elevator

another Ren Makoto cause I can’t help myself

Semi-Permanent Couplings by ren_makoto

E - 10,463

"So, Bruce, how do you feel about one-night stands?"

Ren Makoto <3 <3 <3 This fic contains Adultery soo Read the Author’s Notes

Hubris by ren_makoto

M - 20,197

"This is turning into a routine," Bruce said breathlessly. "What can I do for you, Clark?" "Please," Clark said hoarsely. "I just want to get some sleep."

I really like the writing on this fic, this is a 100% NO CAPES, Clark does have powers and he’s starting to process them. Ren Makoto stole my heart with this one.

Not so Perfect Afterall by tekowrites

E - 6,966

AU: High school, Senior year. Clark thinks his life is nearly, if not already perfect. Then he overhears a conversation that changes absolutely everything. Bruce is there to pick up the pieces.

Red, White and Blue by melmel_79

E - 3,639

He works for the Secret Service, and it's best that no one knows he is in a relationship with the president. At least he hoped no one would know...

He grips the envelope tighter and knocks on the door to the Oval Office.

This was a mistake.

Late Night Feelings by the_butler @the-butler-fanstuff

M - 9,283

It was a little past one in the morning, the phone the only light in his room. He glared at it, then threw it to his side on the bed, not caring to see where it landed. A few seconds after, he patted all along the side to find it and looked at it again. He pulled up the messaging app, scrolled down, and then sighed. He exited the app and threw the phone on the bed again. He repeated this several times until some minutes later the phone chimed and he hurriedly sat up and felt for it on his bed. He opened the messaging app again and finally breathed a sigh of relief when he read the reply he’d been waiting for the whole night.

“Be there in 30 mins.”

I LOVE CLARK HERE, GOOD FOR YOU. He’s such a good adult looking out for himself! self-loving and self-respecting Clark here everybody.

it took me by surprise (I know you felt it, too) by jessequicksters @jessequicksters​

G - 1,124​

In which Clark and Bruce fall in love in between study sessions, track races, grocery shopping at Whole Foods and romantic student dinner dates, burnt lasagna and all.  

FLUFF, could argue this is a ficlet buuuuut dont care, it goes here.

Towards You by tekowrites

E - 22,607

AU where Clark is a new transfer student at an elite high school, and he encounters Bruce Wayne. Clark doesn't fit in, not anywhere it seems, and his crush on the star of the football team? Only serves to shows how much. Jealous girlfriends, misunderstandings, hormones and lurking trouble are just some of the challenges he's going to face.

I LOVE THIS , basically this fic made want to make a PART 2, just had to find 15+ other fics to add to the list. 

Read the tags, this does contain some heavy topics towards the end

The Game (of Love) by KaizokuHime @kaizokunohime

E -12,288

In WayneTech VR Augmented Gaming, a guild of superheroes has arisen who volunteer to help police that reality. One of these superheroes, Superman, has had a crush on his fellow member, Batman, for many years, but thus far has had little success on asking him out, even as fellow guildmembers. How will their relationship progress? And how intimate can they truly become without knowing the other's identity offline?

A Game You Can't Win gave me hunger for gaming fics, then I found this one and I WANT MORE GAMING FICS

Wham Bam Shang-A-Lang by ShowMeAHero @andillwriteyouatragedy

E - 8,354

Clark Kent is a professor at the same university as Bruce Wayne. Not that it matters, because Bruce doesn't really speak with his co-workers - they're there to work with, not befriend. That is, until Clark and Bruce are assigned to teach a class together in the fall, and start spending more and more time together, and Bruce starts to realize, maybe, he just might need a friend - and maybe, he just might need something else, something Clark-specific.

YES YES PROFESSOR TROPE. They are the best together!

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

SORTA KINDA MAYBE FITS THE CATEGORY

The Gift by tmelange

E - 5,564

University student Clark Kent is on a field trip to Gotham City where he meets a creature of the night.

VAMPIRE AU, soooo Clark has powers but he is not superman so NO CAPES on his part. Bruce is a Vampire and I’m not really sure if he’s Batman but he’s some sort of vigilante. This felt very AU and sorta? fit the category, so I decided to add it anyways but it’s worth to mention this is an outlier on this list.

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

SPECIAL MENTION CAUSE I HAVENT READ THIS ONE BUT IT WAS RECOMMEND TO ME by @just-add-butter​

Spoils of War by littlechinesedoll @cumdumpsterbrucie

“If I go with you as a spoil of this pointless war, will you leave?” Bruce stands his ground, terrified and shaking, but he keeps eye contact with the warlord.

“Excuse me?” Kal must be hearing things.

“If I go with you, if I serve you, will you let my people live? Will you let my brother live?”

This is not finished buuuut it’s a Medieval AU. I just need to get myself in the right mindset to read an unfinished fic but will get to it! love what llittlechinesedoll writes.

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

FICLETS 

This section was accidental. I like my fics long and rarely read ficlets but here are a few that came across my way when I forgot to set word count filters.

Snapping the Chats by littlechinesedoll @cumdumpsterbrucie

G - 2,278

Clark tries to use the Snapchat filters on Bruce.

General Check-up by littlechinesedoll @cumdumpsterbrucie

T - 906

One where Brucie is getting a check-up from Thomas Elliot and he touches Bruce more cause Clark is obviously jealous

Subway Providence by the butler @the-butler-fanstuff

G - 400

A short drabble about art I did of Clark and Bruce waiting for the train on a subway platform.

So my first list was me coming across and realizing I love this kind of AUs and this second list is me carefully looking for them! Even tho my 1st list has some of my favorites, I hold this one closer to my heart. Hope you Enjoy it. 

Also if you know of any that I haven’t included on these lists, please I beg you send them my way <3 

[obae-me]

Hey can I request how the brothers would react to the MC seeing them in their demon form for the first time and being scared?

I hope this answers enough of what you wanted, thank you so much for your request! 💜

Lucifer

Good. This is what he wanted. To make sure MC knew his power and position. He uses his demon form mostly as an intimidation tactic, it lets his brothers know when he’s serious, and it tells the other demons who’s in charge.

However...MC was now on the ground, looking up at him with nothing but fear in their eyes. They were frozen, unable to even answer his simple questions. He had just wanted to let MC know not to defy him, leave them a bit rattled, not...quivering. Maybe...he had gone too far?

Now MC can’t even talk to him without shaking, without doing their best to avoid him at all costs. This was not what he wanted any longer. He was supposed to make them feel at home here. It would not do any good for MC to be terrified of him for an entire year.

Also...was he really so horrifying? He wasn’t quite as obsessed with his appearance as his brother Asmo, but it wounded his pride that MC seemed to only see him as a monstrosity. He was sure his form was a bit overwhelming, yes, but was he not divine? Was he not stunning?

He took MC out to do whatever their heart desired as an apology. He’ll work on slowly getting MC accommodated to his demon form, also making sure not to only let it show when he was angry. He’d do it slowly, at their own pace until they get to the point where they’re comfortable around him, complimenting and petting his wings. No one ever gets to touch his wings, but he’ll allow it for MC, as long as they never look so scared of him again.

Mammon

He’s not a fan of horror, he won’t ever admit it around his brothers, but it freaks him out a bit. Which is why he can’t get over the expression of unfounded terror that MC had when he showed them his demon form. It didn’t settle right with him. It bothered him a lot, actually. Making him highly irritable. 

Even as the second born, no one was ever scared of him. Lucifer was the terrifying one, most of the time, his younger brothers hardly respected him much less feared him. So finding out that MC was terrified just by seeing him in his true form confused him greatly.

So, because he’s not the greatest with plans, he stormed into their room. In his demon form of course. Why would they have a problem with it? What was their deal?

He bashed his way though the door, hands on his hips, demanding answers. God he hated how he sounded like Lucifer sometimes. But he quickly stopped in his tracks, hearing the small whimpers coming from MC’s mouth. Not again, he thought, and then spoke to them in a soft voice.

“Hey...hey, human, it’s still me, it’s still Mammon...what do you look so scared for? These things can’t hurt ya.”

It wasn’t completely truthful, his horns and wings could be deadly if used right, but for MC, he’d show them they were harmless. If letting MC touch his wings and horns helps them not be so scared of him, he’ll allow them to do it. Even though they’re incredibly sensitive. He has to try so hard not to squeal or squirm, he wanted MC not to be scared but he didn’t want to look ridiculous in front of them.

Levi

After the demonic bout of envy that drove him to his demon form, it wasn't until he calmed down did he realize how MC had looked at him. He read it as disgust. They ran away from him because they saw how he truly looked, and they hated him for it.

He’ll solve this problem the same as all his other problems, hole himself up in his room for days at a time. He’ll come out eventually, but he’s ashamed to show his face now. It drives him wild how he’s so self conscious for a human, but he can’t help it. All he can think of is how envious of other demons with their much cooler looks.

He’ll apologize to MC anytime he transforms.

MC has to set the record straight with him, even though they were the one scared in the first place. They just freaked out a little, this place and it’s shapes were all new to them. Seeing him get angry with a new tail and horns, it was a bit too much to handle in the moment. It was nothing against him, it was just a final confirmation that he was a demon.

It takes him some time to feel comfortable again letting MC see his demon self, but the next time they do, MC is wary, but not nearly as frightened. In fact, they start to love his form. They tell him anime characters they love that he reminds them of, and after he gets over his envy over those fictional characters, he’ll blush and feel more confident in being more open with his true form.  

Satan

Of course MC would be scared seeing him in his full form of Wrath. Any human would be scared seeing someone transform with horns and a tail and a thick aura of anger surrounding them. So when he saw that MC’s legs were shaking so bad that they could barely keep themselves standing, he wasn’t surprised.

It did bother him, however, and he was unsure why. He had been used to scaring people away before, his brothers also knew not to mess with him too much for fear of making him furious. So why did the scene of MC holding back a bloodcurdling scream keep playing again over and over in his mind? It was extremely distracting.

He went to talk to MC about it. Purely for curiosity's sake...only for that reason.

Satan notices that MC is obviously concerned about setting him off again. He takes a deep breath and tells MC that he will remain in his human form until they are either okay with it or until they leave. He’s the most patient, so no matter what they choose, he can wait.

They come to him a few weeks later, ready to see him again without his strong murderous intent attached. MC actually loves playing with his feather boa. They won’t tell him it looks a bit ridiculous on him, but if anything, it makes them less scared of him. 

Asmo

He’ll take this the hardest. He’s all about how he looks, how he presents himself, how other people see him. Not once, not once, had anyone ever looked at him like that before. Bedroom glances and sensual touches, yes. Eyes and body language that told him that MC would do anything to get away from him as fast as possible, he’d never had that before.

He’ll be in his room, refusing to come out until he’s scrutinized every single detail of his body, wondering what it was about him that MC couldn't stand. The wings and horns were different, but he didn’t look nearly as scary as his other brothers. He was supposed to be attractive. Beautiful! 

Was he...self conscious? No, no, impossible. He’s just...curious why they didn’t like him was all.

He will end up pestering MC until he gets some sort of answer. He didn’t expect MC to just tell him they were scared. Scared? He made them scared? Oh what a precious sweetheart MC is!

He’ll cuddle them, compliment them, make them feel comfortable as a way of apologizing for traumatizing them so. The next time MC sees him in his demon form, Asmo had made sure they were dressed in the cutest thing possible. MC laughs and wonders why they ever were scared of the flamboyant demon of Lust.

Beel

He had said it numerous times that he wanted to eat them, and Lucifer hadn’t exactly withheld explaining to MC all the ways they could be consumed by demons. So when Beel transformed, all they could think about was them being consumed.

Beel had lost control of himself, destroyed part of the house, and now he saw the way MC acted around him. It made him sick to his stomach. He always wanted to prove himself to be a protector, making sure the people that were close to him always felt safe. Already he had taken a liking to MC and yet already they were fearful of him.

The only way he could think of to show his trust was to share food. Share his food. His brother had never ever seen Beel not finish a meal, but for a little while, Beel would give MC some food off of his plate to make sure they ate. He never wanted to see MC tremble like that, especially not from him, he wouldn’t be able to handle it, the guilt would eat him up for dinner instead.

He won’t be satisfied till MC is comfortable with him entirely, demon form, human form, all of it. He’ll take whatever steps necessary if it means MC feels safe around him. 

Belphie

It’s only natural that MC would be scared of his demon form after what happened. Even if the MC he hurt so badly wasn’t the one that stayed, Belphie could still catch nervous glances from MC anytime he sounded like he was about to lose it.

He won't tell anyone the reason why he’s been sleeping so poorly since then is because he can’t stop dreaming of the same moment over and over and over again. Watching their face wrapped in an endless scream. MC does find it concerning when the demon of Sloth is refusing to get any sleep.

It’s actually Beel who comes to MC first, telling them to talk to Belphie. Since they’re twins and they have a magical twin connection, he’s felt awful, feeling endlessly restless no matter what he eats or how much he exercises. He pleads MC to talk to his brother.

It takes a long discussion with MC doing most of the talking before Belphie gives in and apologies with his cracking voice betraying his emotions. He just wants to go back to dreaming, he wants to stop reliving this endless nightmare.

MC stops being scared of Belphie when he falls asleep in their lap, and Belphie finally is able to move on from that terrible moment.

[troped-fanfic-challenge]

TROPED: JATP MASTER LIST

And for our encore, the Master List of all 53 (fifty-three!?) fanfics written for our FIRST Julie and the Phantoms TROPED event!! It was such a treat for us to see how a new fandom took on our prompts! We, here at TROPED, love it when our authors push the limits of what a trope can be, and this fandom kept us on our toes, and we loved every word! We hope you enjoy these trope bending, phantastic fics as much as we did!

New rockstar writers joined us for the first time for this event, which is the coolest thing for us! We love getting to see how different fandoms interpret our prompts and how you see these stories through the lens of different characters. We learned a lot about how to run an event this round, with new voices helping us to make TROPED better, which was so exciting. We came out of this event with new ideas, and we’re pumped for what’s next! We hope you’ll join us again soon ;)!

*Some summaries have been edited for length. Tumblr has a max post length. Who knew!

ROUND 1: ANGST FICS

The Tropes:

Character discovers they’re not human

Coffee Shop AU

Poorly Timed Confession

Character A catches Character B crying

————

the sky was gray and white and (cloudy) (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by @screamin-amuseum

Summary: “I’ve got you,” Willie’s whispering over and over, panic creeping into his voice. “Alex, I’ve got you, okay? Come on, baby, come on, it’s okay, I’ve got you, you’re gonna be okay, I love you–”

Alex spits out what feels like a clot of blood and gives Willie a tired grin, probably looking completely insane.

“That’s pretty gay of you,” he says, just as his vision clouds over and he passes out.

Honey, You’re Familiar (Like My Mirror Years Ago) (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by nik_knows_nothing

Summary: Luke works at a coffee shop, which is normal, quietly pines after his coworker, which is normal, and also occasionally steals people’s faces without really meaning to.

It’s probably that last part that moves him pretty solidly out of the “normal” territory.

But that’s fine, that’s totally cool.

He’s handling it super well.

You Can’t Value People Less Than a Good, Hot Cup of Bean Juice (It Just Seems Rude) (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by nik_knows_nothing

Summary: Julie gets a job at a coffee stand in the middle of nowhere.

It’ll help to pass the time, if nothing else.

And if there’s a cute guy who works the shift after her and sometimes leaves her ridiculously endearing messages on an ancient tape recorder?

Well, that’s just a bonus.

honest to god I’ll break your heart, tear you to pieces and rip you apart (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by @tonightthestarsalign

Summary: the siren!Julie AU no one asked for

new instincts (Rated T) [Luke x Reggie] by @comeonpeters

Summary: Reggie is fine with being the only human member of his band, Julie and the Phantoms (tell your friends!), just like he’s fine with being the only single member. It doesn’t make him feel lonely, and he’s only picking up more shifts at the coffee shop because he needs more money, not because he’s avoiding being alone. And picking up more shifts at the coffee shop is making the work easier! He’s only a little confused by the fact that he can now touch the espresso machine mid shift without burning himself… must be all of the experience.

you look like you’ve just seen a monster (is that what i look like to you?) (Rated T) [Bobby x Alex x Luke x Reggie] by @aroacethetic-shitpost

Summary: it’s angsty tiefling bobby time, folks!

We Are Monsters, We Are Proud (Rated G) [Flynn x Carrie, Julie x Luke] by @americanhoney913

Summary: Carrie finds herself at a college like no other in search of her dad and some answers. Julie’s not feeling good and maybe staring at roses wasn’t the best idea.

Monster College/Coffeeshop AU

sending forth their beautiful voice, and my heart was fain to listen (Rated G) [Julie x Carrie] by @madeline-kahn

Summary: Months after the death of her mom, Julie prepares to sing again and makes an upsetting discovery.

rise from the ashes (Rated M) [Alex x Willie] by @willexxmercer

Summary: At a time when everything was going wrong for Alex, the one bright spot in his life was the charming barista at the coffee shop he frequented. At least, it was the bright spot until everything went up in flames. All he could do was hope that they could rise from the ashes and figure things out together.

Siren’s Song (Rated T) [Ray x Rose] by hufflebibin

Summary: The Scopuli was never meant to be a permanent arrangement. Rose had taken the job straight out of school just looking to make a little extra money before the tour kicked off.

That was four years ago.

After a string of bad luck befalls Rose and the Petal Pushers, she can’t help but wonder if she is the problem. Or is there something more sinister at play?

Yellow (Rated T) [Julie & Reggie] by @tmp-jatp

Summary: Reggie just wanted to get some new guitar strings. A shapeshifter!Reggie au

Angels Like You (Rated T) [Luke x Reggie] by @sunsetcurveofficial

Summary: Reggie is having a bit of a weird day. It gets worse when he figures out that it’s because he died in his sleep and has somehow been walking around as a ghost without realising it. Meeting Luke helps. Luke says he’s a fellow ghost, and there is something about him that Reggie just feels drawn to. Falling for him is the easiest thing Reggie has ever done, but Luke is a little more than he lets on, and it turns out that their story actually started long before Reggie thought it did.

look into my eyes (it’s where my demons hide) (Rated T) [Flynn x Carrie] by @fanfics-she-wrote

Summary: Hiding out from demons was never a desirable nightmare. Of course, Carrie would much prefer a run-for-my-life nightmare than actually running for her life. Having Flynn around is a very welcome soothing balm, though.

Bring All The Monsters Out To Play, Let All The Red Erase The Grey (Rated T) [Bobby & Reggie] by @kennysbirthday

Summary: Mythologicals, Reggie realised, were kind of like queer people. Sometimes your Token Human friend turns around one day and admits that actually, there was something they were suppressing all along, and they hadn’t realised.

–

Reggie’s final exam has been pushed forward at the most inconvenient time. Bobby is sick, Alex is missing, and now he needs to help a selkie get their ‘Happily-Ever-After’ in order to scrape a passing grade. Oh, and if his boss catches him handing out more free coffee, he’s gonna get fired.

————

ROUND 2: FLUFF FICS

The Tropes:

Exes

Time Loop AU

Camp Counselors

Prank Wars

————

Okay, Campers, Rise and Shine! (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by nik_knows_nothing

Summary: The Groundhog Day meets Gravity Falls meets Summer Camp meets The Author’s Own Distaste For Prank Wars AU that no one asked for. Ever. At all.

Starting To Forget (Just What Summer Ever Meant To You) (Not Rated) [Flynn x Carrie] by bi_magic

Summary: Last summer didn’t end on a positive note for Carrie Wilson - she and her girlfriend broke up on the last night of camp, and she’s been miserable since. But it seems that the universe is intent on having her fix that this summer. Even if that means she has to live through the same day over and over and over again until she does.

Creative B.S. Was No More, Was No Less (Look Around, You’re Gonna Miss What You Found) (Rated T) [Alex x Luke, Flynn x Reggie] by @americanhoney913

Summary: Alex and Luke go undercover on a mission to a summer camp in order to find a talisman that could endanger the camp and all the kids. While there, they bond with the kids and make peace with the fact that they broke up.

While Alex and Luke are away, Flynn accidentally fucks with time.

bitch but like romantically (Rated T) [Flynn x Carrie] by @screamin-amuseum

Summary: or: flynn gets stuck in a time loop. {for troped jatp round 2}

down by the bay (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by @sunsetcurbed

Summary: Over time, Camp Phantom has simply become known as a selective summer camp: one that took only the kids that Caleb saw promise in. And Caleb wasn’t exactly lying. He really did take only the ones he saw promise in, he simply looked for different traits than others might.

For example, say, hypothetically, a boy who could see the future. Or, hypothetically, a girl who could interact with ghosts. Or, hypothetically, a boy who could summon objects to him with a simple thought. Or, and this is completely hypothetical mind you, a boy who could manipulate time.

Those might be some traits that Caleb saw promise in. Just, like, as examples.

Time will tell (But only if you do it right) (Rated T) [Flynn x Carrie] by @malecacidd

Summary: Carrie had been acting a little off for a week or so, but Flynn was pretty much known for seeing something in nothing, and that was probably what they were doing then. If something was going on, Carrie would tell her eventually.

OR

Who knew all it took was a little bit of miscommunication to mess up time itself?

and so it begins (Rated T) [Bobby x Reggie] by @comeonpeters

Summary: It’s the first day of their second week at Camp Carolling (they’re spending an entire month, and they’re getting paid to be there!) when Reggie gets a little lost in the woods. During this misadventure into the woods, he finds an egg shaped rock, an inhabited cabin that may or may not be riddled with signs, and something that might be magic. He probably doesn’t get paid enough to discover magic.

or, when they were thirteen years old, four boys met at camp carolling and eventually became a band that almost became something legendary. now, all four boys are coming back as counselors, three boys in one band and one boy in his own solo act.

so begins the reunion, though it doesn’t go how any of them imagine.

Porcupine Day (Rated T) [Bobby x Ray x Rose] by @wr0temyway0ut

Summary: It’s been fifteen years since Trevor broke up with Ray and Rose and they’re… not fine, but managing. But when Trevor to adds insult to injury and buys the camp across the lake from the one they once owned together, the two camps become locked in a bitter rivalry. With neither side willing to set aside their pride and work out their issues, the universe decides to settle their fates itself.

Day After Day (After Day After Day) (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by hufflebibin

Summary: When Alex met Willie just after their senior year of high school, they spent a wonderful three months dating before their relationship ended in a blaze of glory. Now, four years later, they meet again as counselors at a summer camp. The only problem? Alex keeps reliving their first day together. The day that Luke had declared “Prank Day.”

This is not how Alex pictured his summer going.

clocks move faster (it’s all we’re after) (Rated G) [Julie x Luke] by @willexxmercer

Summary: Julie likes it when her friends are happy, so when she realizes she’s stuck in a time loop, she uses her knowledge to make sure everything works out for everyone… except she conveniently forgets to factor herself (and Luke) into the mix.

Touch of Magic (Not Rated) [Alex x Luke] by @williexmercer

Summary: When everything stands in Luke and Alex’s way of getting to be with the people they love, they have to repeat the day over and over until they can get the happily ever after that they want.

the play’s the thing (that goes wrong) (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by @madeline-kahn

Summary: Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day for Macbeth, but not so for Alex and the production of Hamlet that he is directing and starring in. And while he’s stuck repeating the day of the performance over and over, mishaps of all kinds befall the cast.

anything, anything (for another run with you) (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by @aroacethetic-shitpost

Summary: the camp counselor/exes/prank war/time loop fic of your dreams (unless you read all of the other troped round 2 fics lmao)

there’s a glorious sunrise, dappled with the flickers of light (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by @tonightthestarsalign

Summary: ex-best friends Luke and Julie, working as camp counselors at rivaling camps, find themselves stuck in a time loop

the daughter of apollo (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by @the-most-beautiful-broom

Summary: the JATP x Camp Half Blood AU that nobody asked for

maybe the world isn’t ending (maybe it’s been postponed) (Rated G) [Julie x Luke] by @tmp-jatp

Summary: It’s the last day of camp and Julie has one more prank planned for Luke. He just doesn’t know what it is.

Here We Go Again (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by @kybee1497

Summary: Julie blinked as she stared at the place Euterpe had disappeared. What did that even mean? What journey? Old places and lost faces? What was she talking about? But before she could dwell on the questions swirling around in her mind, the sky full of stars began to move, shifting in place and descending until they were all around her. Julie felt her feet leave the ground as she rose up and up. One star in particular was burning brighter than the others, growing bigger in front of her.

It grew and grew, until the light was blinding and Julie had to throw a hand up against the harsh light. She closed her eyes as the light surrounded her and then she was falling. Falling down, down, down.

————

ROUND 3: CANONVERSE FICS

The Tropes:

Secret Places

Neighbors

First Kiss

Time Jump

————

Just say you won’t let go (Rated G) [Julie/Luke] by @fanfics-she-wrote

Summary: Hey, Julie

You're the heart and soul 'round here, it's plain to see

in which Julie has a second chance with her boys, and then a third

we will fight to shine together (bright forever) (Rated G) [Bright Lighting Guy/Rob from the Orpheum] by @screamin-amuseum

Summary: the rob/bright lighting guy fic literally nobody asked for but i wrote anyways. enjoy gays, bring ur tissues

what happened when (Rated G) [Alex/Luke] by @janaikam

Summary: Before Julie and the Phantoms, before the guys became ghosts, before Sunset Curve – they were Luke and Alex. Not 5 feet apart cause they’re totally gay.

who cares if one more light goes out? (in a sky of a million stars) (Rated T) [Ray/Rose] by @tonightthestarsalign

Summary: The first and the last time Ray ever kissed Rose.

we can forget the world (just you and me) (Rated T) [Alex/Willie] by @sunsetcurbed

Summary: “This was the first place I ever came out to someone,” Alex says, spinning around and taking in the tree house.

together we can take on the world (Rated G) [Alex/Reggie] by @comeonpeters

Summary: Alex Mercer meets Reggie Peters on October 8, 1983, which means that two days have passed since Reggie’s sixth birthday, because Reggie is a Libra according to the magazines that his mom reads when she gets Reggie to paint her toenails. He’s also just moved to Los Angeles, California from his hometown of Gatlinburg, Tennessee, a small town in the mountains, and he’s told Alex Mercer about all of this in the three minutes that they’ve known each other, and he might be the loudest, most obnoxious boy that Alex has ever met, and he absolutely has to be Alex’s new best friend.

The Peters family moves in down the street from the Mercers in 1983, and so begins the rest of their lives.

Long Live (Can I start another life with you?) (Rated T) [Julie/Luke] by @smolfangirl

Summary: It’s all too much for one day: first a muffin, then more heartbeats. Julie just needs some time to think. If Luke runs after her to sit by her side so she doesn’t lose it, she won’t complain.

Except afterwards, he starts acting weird. Very weird. And months later, she’s tired of letting him keep his distance.

She can’t do this. Not right now. Not today.

She jumps back on her feet.

The excited grin falls from Luke’s face. She doesn’t try to catch it.

“I – I think this is too much. I need some time. Alone. Sorry.”

Then she runs. She runs past the calloused fingers reaching out to her. Past Reggie and the door, past carved pumpkins on porches and Cornelia Street.

She just runs.

Roses (Rated G) [Emily & Luke, Alex/Luke] by @americanhoney913

Summary: It becomes a sacred place she shares with her son. Mitch is usually off at work from dawn until six o’clock, but Emily’s working from home for now. She works as a florist’s shop right outside the neighborhood. So she brings home seeds and little flowers and other cuts from the store; she and Luke will spend hours out in the dirt, planting seeds and making mud pies and Luke will babble about whatever happened in daycare and make up stories about the different flowers.

Somewhere Only We Know (Rated T) [Nick/Carrie] by hufflebibin

Summary: A journey through Nick Danforth-Evan’s life as experienced in the safety of his backyard hide away.

The Itty Bitty Details (Rated T) [Alex/Willie] by @williexmercer & @futurearchaeologyprof

Summary: 5 times Willie knew Alex and one where Alex knew Willie

you’re the only one who makes me (my wildflower) (Rated T) [Bobby/Reggie] by @willexxmercer

Summary: The tree was Reggie’s safe space, and Bobby was his safe person. He could escape all his troubles there, except for one nagging thought - did he have feelings for his best friend?

Dying complicated things.

because i’ve known you so long, i know every cadence and what they mean (Rated G) [Alex & Julie, Julie/Luke] by @tmp-jatp

Summary: the Juke 5+1 fic from Alex’s POV.

Someday (I’ll See You Again) (Rated T) [Alex/Willie] by @kybee1497

Summary: They’re wrong. Alex, you are not a failure. You’re incredible. You’re smart. You’re funny, and the best friend I could ask for. You’re a wicked talented drummer and you have a beautiful voice. And more important than all of that, is that you’re you, Alex. And the you you are is wonderful, and lovable and perfect. If your parents can’t see that, that’s their own fault. But I swear, Alex. If you’re afraid of them, I need you to tell me. You have to be safe.” Willie’s voice had gone desperate by the end. Alex deserved to know how freaking amazing he was and the fact that his parents didn’t bother to tell him, and actively worked to tear him down instead, was infuriating.

But Willie also worried about him. He’d worried about Alex since the first time he heard Mr. Mercer shouting through the window, a worry that never really went away. Not with the way Alex automatically straightened up when his parents were mentioned, as if he could hear his dad lecturing him about appearances from miles away. Not with the way Alex looked when he was with them, perfectly pieced together and falling apart at the seams, eyes distant and shoulders tense. Willie was pretty sure he had worrying about Alex etched in his bones by this point.

The Energy Never Dies (Rated T) [Gen Fic] by @americanhoney913

Summary: Four moments across time in the loft of the Molina’s garage.

————

ROUND 4: FINAL!

Theme: Author’s Choice

Tropes:

Royalty AU

Soulmate AU

“Long Story Short…”

Author’s Choice

———

Look, Steal From the Rich. Do It. (Rated T) [Julie/Luke] by nik_knows_nothing

Summary: A Julie and the Phantoms Star Wars AU that kind of looks into the ramifications of soul marks in a turbulent society, but mostly just focuses on the gang infiltrating a fancy Core World party.

take my heart (and take my hand) (Rated T) [Alex/Willie] by @sunsetcurbed

Summary: The stranger smiles. “I’m Willie,” he greets.

“Alex,” Alex nods back.

“Sir,” Willie says pointedly, and smirks up at him as he bows exaggeratedly.

“The word sir is coming out of your mouth directed at me, but I don’t feel like you just addressed me as a sir at all. And please, call me Alex.”

“My apologies,” Willie hums, straightening back up. And then, pointedly, he lowers himself back into the same bow and makes deliberate eye contact with Alex. “Sir.”

Alex blinks. “You’re not going to call me Alex, are you?”

“Absolutely not, Sir.”

the princess and the lord (Rated T) [Julie/Luke] by @the-most-beautiful-broom

Summary: a JATP x Princess Diaries 2 AU

Diamond in the Rough (Rated G) [Julie/Luke] by @tmp-jatp

Summary: The JATP Aladdin AU

Okay, So You’re Interrupting the Political Guy Again, So Think About That (Rated T) [Julie/Luke] by nik_knows_nothing

Summary: Julie and the Phantoms meets The Goblin Emperor meets a soulmate AU meets the author’s stunning lack of what I assume is basic knowledge on how monarchies work.

i had the time of my life, fighting dragons with you (Rated T) [Julie/Luke] by @tonightthestarsalign

Summary: luke gets hired by some noble to bring back the princess that was kidnapped by a dragon

born to be yours (Rated G) [Alex/Willie] by @willexxmercer

Summary: “Hello. It feels strange, resorting to notes like this, but I couldn’t think of any other way. I know you’re here, somewhere. At the ball. I’ve tried to find you for the past few nights. My parents always told me never to believe in looped days and soulmates, but I think this just proves that they were wrong.

My name is Willie. I don’t know how to find you, but sometimes I feel like I’m drawn to you. Like I can just sense you nearby. I don’t know if you’ll find this, but if you do, I’ll try to wait for you on the balcony.

Until we meet.”

our best days are yet unknown (Rated T) [Alex/Reggie/Willie] by @aroacethetic-shitpost

Summary: When Prince Alexander of Sacuria meets his fiance, Prince William of Coterra, he’s astonished to discover that he recognizes his daemon. He recognizes it as one of the other shapes that his own daemon is able to take… as his soulmate. The only problem? Alex already has a soulmate: Reggie Peters, his childhood best friend. What should he do about finally meeting his second soulmate?

Panic and run away? Yeah, sure.

Little does he know he’s about to have a bigger problem than that…

————

Please take the time to read of all these incredible fics! Leave the authors some kudos/comments! They worked so hard this whole event. Thanks so much!

Just as a reminder, our non-anon collection is always open and we are always so excited to receive any submissions! The TROPED: JATP official collection has been CLOSED but if any of our prompts inspire you, please share your fics with us in our non-anon collection! Simple put ‘TROPED_Non_Anonymous’ where it asks for the collection name, and be sure to put what round you are writing for in your notes so we can be sure to tag it appropriately when we share! Also, just as a note, fics submitted to the non-anon collection do not have to follow the word limit and do not require the same strict adherence to the tropes, though we do ask that you comply with our other rules regarding no rape, incest, negativity, and things like that! Happy writing!

TROPED JATP AO3 Collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TROPED_JATP_1

TROPED Non-Anon AO3 Collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TROPED_Non_Anonymous

[cafedanslanuit]

day two   —   fights

pairing: saeyoung x mc

words: 1.5k

“You’re being just like your father.”

“Well, at least I have one.”

Saeyoung and MC both stare at each other, the latter one with her mouth agape. She lowers her eyes to the ground and then quickly assesses the empty living room, still trying to process her lover’s words.

“The fuck did you say to me?” she spits.

“I’m saying that if your father had stuck around maybe you wouldn’t be so inclined to stay around like a lost puppy.”

“That’s fucking rich coming from you,” she laughes coldly. She walks to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of water, ignoring the sounds of footsteps right behind her.

“What? Because I’m right?,” Saeyoung counters. She takes a sip of her glass before responding.

“No, Saeyoung. If we’re going to talk about fucked up parents, then your mother takes the prize,” she hisses. MC doesn’t even register when Saeyoung snatches the glass of water away from her hand and puts it back on the table.

“At least I don’t latch onto the first person that is nice to me like you.”

The knot on her throat tightens, a sour taste on her mouth as she listens to his words. Her mind provides more and more ideas to hurt him back, yet the sole thought of hurting someone she loves so much leaves her heart in agony.

“Should have latched onto Zen, then. He wouldn’t be saying this shit to me,” she says, turning on her heel to face him. Saeyoung squints at her and she knows it was a low blow. But fuck it. He should have known before testing her.

Saeyoung’s face expression twitches and then he storms back to the living room. MC watches him start taping the opened boxes laying on the floor. The moving truck was coming tomorrow and the empty living room is a living proof of that. They were going to move with Saeran to a bigger and safer space than the underground bunker Saeyoung had been living in, and her heart had been filled with hope things were going to change. At least she hoped they did.

MC had noticed him starting to get away from her touch for the past couple of months, and had decided to let him be, knowing he was still trying to adapt to his new living situation with his brother and away from the agency. But every day, no matter what she did, his eyes became colder, his body always moving away from hers, to the point she found him sleeping at the living room once when he could have slept in the bed they shared as they used to do.

“What’s going on, Sae?”

He stays in silence, closing the box and ignoring her words.

“I just want Saeran to be happy. And you throwing money at the problem isn’t going to help him,” she explains, crouching down to the floor at his same level. “That’s why I said to stop being like your father, stop thinking money can fix something. He’s hurting, Sae. He needs to talk to someone, he needs professional help. And I understand you are afraid someone will get to him if he shares too much during his appointments. I understand, I do, but you need to let him get help. He needs it. And you sending more and more money to his account so he can buy himself stuff isn’t going to help him. Money can’t help Saeran.”

He doesn’t say a word, and even when he finishes closing down the boxes, he stays sitting on the floor, looking at them in a daze. MC sighs and puts a hand on his shoulder, but he quickly jerks his body away from her touch.

“Don’t talk like you know him.”

“But I know Saeran. I’ve helped him all this time, I’m the one who takes him to the doctor and I’m the one he listens to when he’s having a nightmare. I know Saeran as if he were my family.”

“But he’s not. You’re not a part of this family,” Saeyoung grunts before standing up and walking to the window. It’s closed, the sun almost setting and MC really hopes they can stop fighting before Saeran gets home.

“You told me I was,” she mutters, looking at him from her sitting position. Saeyoung huffs, a venomous smile drawing on his lips.

“I say a lot of shit, MC.”

She can’t no longer hold the tears from falling down her cheeks. Standing up, she walks to him, not caring anymore if she can see her cry. She’s avoided that at all costs, but now she can’t care anymore.

“Okay. I’m not family but…” she tries to reason. “We’re still us, right? We’re still… Saeyoung and MC. We’re going to get through this, we can--. I know you hate me right now, I do. But we still love each other despite all that. We do, we’re Saeyoung and MC, we--”

“No. We’re not anymore,” he sentences, turning his head and looking straight at her. The honey in his eyes turns into tar, and she feels like she can’t breathe anymore.

“But we--”

“Don’t you get it?” he asks, a tired sigh escaping from his lips. “I don’t even want to fucking kiss you anymore. Hadn’t you noticed how whenever you come close I just kiss your forehead?”

His words make her brain remember every instance Saeyoung pressed his lips against her head. MC remembers walking up to him while he’s cooking, her hands around his waist as she told him sweet nothings. She remembers him turning his head and kissing her forehead. The fond memory turns sour at his words, and she fights off the nausea as one, two, three, too many memories come back, now tainted with his harsh words.

“You’re an asshole,” she whispers, wiping the tears from her face. “You’re such an asshole and a bad person. Why would-- Why would you--” she sniffles, walking away from him. She stops midway in the middle of the living room and turns back at him. “You know what? Fuck you, Saeyoung. Fuck you, fuck you, I’m fucking tired of dealing with this, dealing with you. I know you went through shit and you didn’t deserve that, but guess what? I did too. Being abused is not a fucking excuse to be a piece of shit!” she screams. “All I’ve tried to do is help you and love you, and I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve the way you’re treating me, I don’t--” her voice falters and she braces herself, her whole body shaking with the force of her whimpers.

Saeyoung finally turns his head towards her, watching her break. He knows he should feel upset. A few months ago, the single threaten of a tear would make him lose his mind, running to hold her in his arms. But it had been long since he felt something switch up inside him, the immense love he had been developing towards his lover turning into dust the moment he opened his eyes one morning.

He didn’t know why. She was still the same caring and thoughtful MC that would look after him and his brother, pausing her own life projects to be there for both of them, never complaining or asking for anything in return, even in the times he had turned colder against her.

And he hated it.

Maybe because he thought he didn’t deserve that unconditional love. Maybe because he didn’t understand unconditional love. He wasn’t sure.

But he hated it.

“Then what are you doing here?”

MC looks up at him, raised eyebrows quickly furrowing at his words. She stops holding herself and takes a few steps towards him, her body trembling with rage-

“Saeran is the only fucking reason I’m staying--”

“Then fucking leave!” he yelled. “Go fix someone else’s mess. I bet you feel so good, don’t you?” he asked, a mocking smile on his lips. “All you’ve ever wanted was to fix people. Don’t you think I noticed we were just a fun little project for you? If you have the need to help people around you just so you stop looking at your own reflection in the mirror, then fucking do it. Go look for other people in need and latch yourself onto them, MC, do what you do best.”

MC stares blankly at him for a couple of seconds. There aren’t any new tears forming in her eyes, and somehow that makes it worse. Her shoulders have stopped shaking and now her arms are falling limply against her sides. She nods a couple of times and then walks to the door, grabbing one of her coats and then purse she left hanging there the night before.

One last time, she looks over at the person he thought was the love of her life, his face still empty of emotion and starts wondering when it all started falling apart.

“Good luck finding someone who can love all your rotten edges, Saeyoung,” she mutters.

He laughs coldly, not turning to see her leave.

“Same thing for you.”

[hotchley]

like blood underneath your fingernails

Honestly, I’m quite proud of this one. It’s been in the works for a while, and I finally have a title (from Looking Too Closely- Fink) and I both did those flashcards and emptied the dishwasher, so it’s here now. It’s been proofread!! Once. In the car.

The writers (according to the internet) did not deal with the aftermath of Scratch’s initial... thing. So I took it upon myself to write the case after. It got dark, but I had fun writing it. And it has low-key Mortch vibes... a lot of other amazing writers have also written fics linked to this, so you need to read those too because they’re just the best

OH!! This is not a Rossi-friendly fic. I have tried to explain why he responds the way he does, but it does come off as Rossi bashing, so if you reallllly love him and think he was a great friend to Hotch... skip on this one.

Trigger Warnings: dissociation, aftermath of torture, a slight reference to suicide and child death, canon-typical violence, cases involving kidnappings and murder, blood, dark themes, other canon-typical darkness, hallucinations

read on ao3!

He cannot close his eyes.

Because when he closes his eyes, he sees one of them, falling to the ground as the light leaves their eyes and the life leaves their body because his worst fear has never been his own death. It has always been the death of the family he is meant to protect- whether that was Sean, or Haley or the team. 

He hears the fear in JJ's voice as Spencer, her little brother, the boy that has always been too young, the man that he has never succeeded in saving, falls to the ground, eyes never opening again. 

He tastes the horrifying and coppery tang of blood as Derek is shot right in front of his eyes, the blood splattering onto his cheek and every sentence Reid has ever spoken about the bacteria and pathogens in blood springing to the forefront of his mind.

He smells the bitter and disgusting sage that Peter Lewis uses to torment people and turn them into brutal murderers that cannot stand the sight of their own hands or wrap their heads around their actions because they had always been normal and good, and it hurts because he's already a killer, never once normal or good.

He touches the knife that was slid towards him, the metal cool against his warm hand and the weight a comforting thing that make him feel like he could regain control of the situation he was in, despite the thoughts of George Foyet that fill his mind, and he wonders whether Scratch is impotent.

He closes his eyes and he no longer knows what is real.

It is why he is returning to work only ten days after the case. He had wanted to take the usual five, terrified even of that small number because he couldn't trust himself. The doctors that assessed him in the hospital wanted him to take thirty. Ten, and a passed psychological evaluation, had been the compromise.

He wonders if the team knows how he lied. They must do. They aren't stupid. He wonders if anyone will call him out on it, or if they'll once again be so terrified of the humanity he wants nothing more than to cling to that they will simply watch and wait until he shatters again.

The steady ticking of the clock is the only noise in the otherwise silent apartment. When he flicks the light on, he sees there are still five hours until he needs to wake up. For a single moment, he closes his eyes, contemplating whether or not attempting to sleep is a pointless exercise. He swears he can still taste sage and opens his eyes again.

A silent house is not necessarily a bad thing. It means Jack is sleeping through the night, no nightmares about the gunshots haunting him. And it means the extra locks on the door, the obsessive way he checks every window is locked as soon as the sun goes down, are doing their job at keeping the monsters out of the only home Jack has real memories of.

Aaron creeps out of bed, grabbing the jumper that was folded at the foot of his bed. Once he's put it on, he sighs to himself and counts to five. For each number, he tells himself a fact that cannot be disputed. That grounds him.

His name is Aaron Hotchner.

He is forty-four years old. 

He is standing inside his bedroom, in his apartment, which is located in Virginia.

The windows of that apartment are locked from the inside.

Just down the hallway, his son is sleeping peacefully, untouched by the monsters that strangle his father every single day.

He creeps down that hallway, taking comfort when the same floorboard that always creaks does just that. Normally he would avoid it. But lately he's been finding every opportunity to do something that Peter Lewis would have no knowledge of, if only so he can convince himself he's fine.

Jack's door is slightly open, allowing some light to enter. Aaron nudges it gently, making sure he doesn't wake Jack. The door doesn't make a sound, and his son carries on sleeping. He never looks so similar to his mother as he does when he sleeps. Haley slept on her left side, a slight smile on her face, and Jack does the same, unless he has a bad dream.

But even then, he is so much like his mother that his tears can be turned into something beautiful. Aaron was the exception of their little family, having always expressed his emotions so honestly, the few times he let himself do that, that there was no way it could be anything but ugly and human.

He's too big for the chair in front of Jack's desk, but he sits in it anyways, turning it so he can face Jack's bed. On the table is his latest art project- a collage of things that remind him of the people he loves- and Aaron finds it difficult to look at. Because his son has painted his mother as a perfect angel, and his father a superhero.

One day, Jack will realise his father is the furthest thing from the superhero and he will hate him for destroying his childhood and taking his mother from him before he was old enough to understand that people were mortal. Aaron is mentally preparing for that day- there are already so many letters that will never excuse or justify what he did hidden in his office drawer- but until then. he will allow himself this one good thing.

He will allow himself to sit, and take comfort in the steady rise and fall of Jack's chest. He ends up staying there until sunlight starts to stream through the window, and then he takes his leave. 

Seeing Jack, sleeping so calmly and normally, reminds him of why he's going back to work. Because if he hurts the wrong person there, the team won't hesitate and they'll do it. If he hurts Jack- and he knows he's weaker than the man that refused to harm his son, knows that it will be Jack- there will be nobody there to end his pain and suffering. He'll be forced to live with it.

A minute before his alarm is set to go, he turns it off, and then he goes about morning like it is any other day. 

He doesn't feel like himself till he puts the watch Dave got him when became lead profiler on, tightening the strap till it mirrors the feeling of holding the knife. And he wonders whether the team are discussing his return to duty the same way they had six years ago. 

They are. Aaron's absence meant more paperwork for the rest of them, as there is no way the team are going to let him handle it when he comes back, so every single one of them are in an hour earlier. It also means his return will be as smooth as it can be.

Even if they don't all approve.

"It's only been ten days," Derek says. "He needs more time."

"Does he? He came back thirty-four days after George Foyet stabbed him in his apartment and his wife and son were sent into Witness Protection, and he was fine. This is like child's play compared to that," Dave says, fiddling with a paperclip.

"Ex-wife," Reid corrects quietly. 

The three of them are sitting in the bullpen, looking towards the elevator every few minutes. Kate pretends she's not listening, and Derek pretends he believes her.

"Was he fine? He looked us in the eye and asked why a man that had lost his wife and child was still alive. He walked into a hostage situation unarmed. We all pretended he was fine because we needed Foyet to strike, but I'm not making that mistake again. Not after what happened when he did end up striking," Derek snaps.

Spencer swallows. Dave just raises an eyebrow. It's almost funny. Spencer views Aaron as a father, Dave as a son. Either way, they both believe he is perfect. Able to come back from anything and everything with nothing more than a broken ego. But Derek remembers what Foyet's body looked like, and he remembers how Aaron had shattered in his arms for those few seconds.

"If you want to ruin his first day back, then be my guest. But you need to trust him the same way he trusts us. After all, you care more about him than you do your job," Dave says, annoyance bleeding into his tone.

And Derek gets it. He really does. He had wanted to believe Gideon was invincible when he came back after Boston. Everyone had. So they hadn't done anything, and he had just gotten more and more reckless with his actions until innocent people ended up dead and Hotch got suspended. And then he ran. 

He isn't going to let that happen again.

"This isn't about not trusting him. This is about keeping him safe. And you're right. I do care about him more, because the last time I didn't, he almost retired. So we either do the opposite of what we did last time, or we let history repeat itself."

"Derek, you can't force him into anything. He passed his psych eval, so Cruz can't do anything either," Spencer says. 

Derek softens as he turns to him. "I know pretty boy. It's not about forcing him into anything. It's about making sure he knows that we're here if he needs more time, or if he needs a break. And don't get me started on that psych eval. I saw his answers. They're too perfect. He's lying."

"So what are you going to do?" Dave challenges, and not for the first time, Derek wonders how Aaron kept his sanity working with him, Jason Gideon and Max Ryan at the same time without any of the other members to meet his eyes with the same exasperated look every time one of them reverted to the old fashioned way of doing things.

"Be the friend he trusts me to be," Derek says. It's his own challenge. Dave prides himself on being the only one to call him Aaron. To people outside the team, Rossi seems to be the only one that Aaron trusts enough to be vulnerable with. 

But Derek knows better. Aaron will never be completely open with anyone, but he still feels like he has a duty to be the hopeful and undamaged boy that thought he could save the world that Dave recruited. He still has a duty to be the father that Spencer never had and thought he'd found in Gideon. It is only with Derek that he allows himself to do his own type of falling apart: one that is contained and messy and ugly. Somehow both terrifying and anticlimactic

It was Derek that stopped him from running into a burning building all those years ago. It was Derek that was voluntarily told about Haley leaving. It was Derek that stepped up as Unit Chief and pulled him off Foyet's dead body. Not Dave and certainly not Spencer. So he won't let them influence his actions. Not this time.

Hotch does blink. But only when he thinks nobody will see him do it.

Dave keeps eye contact for a few more moments, but this time, Derek does not break it. Eventually the older man turns around and heads to his office. Derek sighs, knowing fully well that Aaron is going to end up doing the paperwork anyways.

"Is he going to be okay?" Spencer asks, sounding so painfully young that Derek has to look at him to remember he wasn't the new recruit anymore.

"Dave? Yeah, he'll be annoyed, we'll get a case and then everything will be fine," Derek says, smiling so Reid doesn't worry.

"No I meant Hotch. Will he be okay?"

Derek can't tell him the truth. "Of course he will. He's Hotch."

"Why are you lying to me?"

He knows there's no point in trying to deny it. "I'm not trying to patronise you or keep you in the dark. It's not that. It's just- I don't know. It's stupid, but I want to shield you from his mortality and flaws and imperfections for as long as is humanly possible. You are always going to have a different relationship with Hotch because of how much younger you are, and I just don't want to be the one that ruins it."

"So you want to protect me?"

Derek nods. "I guess."

"Thank you. Nobody ever did that when I was younger," Spencer says.

Kate breaks the ensuing silence by asking for Spencer's opinion on her consult, and Derek starts watching the elevator doors again. They don't open until precisely nine, when Hotch steps off, dressed in the same suit and tie he wears every second Monday of the month, carrying his briefcase and acting like nothing happened.

He gives them a slight smile as he passes them in the bullpen, and even those few seconds are enough for Derek to see that he hasn't been sleeping.

When Aaron sets his briefcase down, Spencer looks to him, nervous. Derek gives him a small smile, even though they all saw him as he entered. It's only been ten days since they last saw him, but his suits seem to hang from him more than before. Dave looks out at them, and Derek starts to count.

He counts to three hundred, and is immediately struck by just how fast time can go. Three hundred seconds is five minutes, and yet it feels like no time has passed. But when Hotch looks out at them, as he always does, everyday, without fail, ten days feels like a lifetime.

He is terrified as he stands, but he fights through the fear and goes up to his friend's office. The door is open, so he walks in without knocking. When Hotch looks at him, he closes both the door and the blinds. Hotch swallows as the sound of them closing fills the air.

"I don't want them profiling this conversation," he explains.

Aaron just nods. "Thank you."

"You don't need to pretend with me," Derek says.

Aaron looks away, and Foyet's presence, usually contained to the self-deprecating voice in his head telling him he's no better than his father, seems to fill the room. They both know why he doesn't pretend anymore.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"You don't need to say anything. I don't expect you to tell me the truth, because I wouldn't, if I was you. I'd be too terrified. But I remember what it was like seeing Spencer and Emily. So if you do want to talk, then I'm here. Always. And I won't flinch."

Aaron knows this to be true. When they finally got back to Quantico after Jason's death, Derek found him sobbing in the men's bathroom, the barriers he had spent so long piecing together completely breaking when he opened his drawer and found a photo from the early days, where Jason looked happy and hopeful. He hadn't said anything. Just sat beside him, and offered a tissue. 

"I know you won't."

Derek sighs, not sure what he's meant to do. "Aaron-" he starts, not sure what he's going to see next.

"I can't trust myself. I- I don't know what's real, and I keep trying to do the grounding things that the bureau therapist said I need to, but I don't know if they're working. I have post-it notes all over the apartment and I have my five facts, and I have things I can touch, but Scratch knew so much, I can't- I feel like he's everywhere and he knows everything."

It is so honestly vulnerable that Derek wants nothing more than to flee, if only so he can cling to the Aaron that existed when he first joined the unit for just one more moment. But he made a promise. And he has no idea how he's meant to keep it, but he's going to.

He holds his hand out. When Aaron doesn't take it, he leans over the desk, gently linking their fingers. "I'm here. With you. Scratch can't get our body temperatures perfect. He can't know that I'm always slightly warmer and you're always colder. He can't know that twelve years ago, I called you darling because I didn't realise it was you."

Aaron chuckles slightly. "Derek."

"You don't need to say anything. I messed up after Foyet. I won't do that again."

He shakes his head, finally meeting his eyes, and the fire in them is almost enough to convince Derek that everything is going to be fine. Almost.

"You did everything you could after Foyet. If you had tried to do more, I would have stopped you. We both know that. You did everything right, everything perfectly right and you cannot feel like you failed because you didn't. Do you understand me?"

Derek swallows. “Yes. But you need to understand that if you need anything- and I mean anything, whether it’s for me to take the reins for a bit, an unofficial firearms certification, or even just to do the grounding techniques with you, I will.”

Aaron nods. “I know Derek. I know. Thank you.”

Derek gives him the most convincing smile he can, leaving the door open because Aaron hated having it closed. As he exits. Dave steps in, and he sees as Aaron morphs back into Hotch to be the man that Dave needs him to be. It hurts to see, but he understands why it happens.

He doesn’t believe in God. He hasn’t for a while. But he needs to do something other than stare at dead bodies, so he prays that the team remain grounded for a few days. Not for too long because then Aaron will get suspicious and realise that Derek had been forging Rossi’s signature in order to transfer their out of state cases to other teams, but long enough for him to get settled once more.

Or as settled as he would ever be.

It’s probably why, only minutes after Dave leaves Hotch’s office, smiling, whilst the other man just looks exhausted, JJ comes rushing into the bullpen. There are five files in her arms, and she looks frantic. 

“No,” Derek says.

“I’m sorry, but we need to go on this one. It came directly to me. It’s- just look.”

He doesn’t want to, but as JJ goes to give the files to Dave and Aaron, he does, if only so he can gauge how much support he will need. And as he opens it, he understands exactly why they’re going on this case. Why, even if JJ had tried to hide it from Hotch, he would’ve said they had a duty.

They have four victims. All blonde women. All mothers. All divorced. Killed by a single gunshot to the head. No evidence of sexual assault, but they were held captive and tortured for three days before being dumped in their home. All found by their ex-husbands, who were only there to drop the child off.

Hotch does not show an ounce of humanity during the journey there. It terrifies Derek. Hotch only refuses to show how human he is when he’s close to falling apart. Too close for anyone to feel comfortable. Instead, he keeps his tone detached and professional. Derek pretends to not notice the way Aaron pushes down on his stomach, over the biggest scar Foyet left. Aaron pretends he doesn’t see Derek watching him.

When they get to the station, Derek knows it’s going to be a long case. Him and Reid are sent to the coroner’s office, whilst JJ and Kate are tasked with searching through their victims history. Which means Hotch and Rossi are left to interview the husbands. JJ and Derek- the most attuned to Hotch and the thought behind his actions- make a silent agreement that they will do whatever it takes to make sure Rossi doesn’t go too far. Whatever that means.

They fail because they don’t get the chance to speak to him before they leave the precinct.

And when they return, Dave is nowhere to be seen, and Aaron is sat in the conference room, clenching his jaw and hyper focused on the details in the case files.

“Did you get anything from the husbands?” JJ asks, tone gentle.

Hotch shakes his head. “They’re grieving, and terrified for their children. But they’re not guilty. They all loved their wives.”

Nobody bothers to point out all four couples were divorced.

"Where's Rossi?" Reid asks.

The tension in Aaron's shoulders increases.

"Hotch," Kate says, the only one that can.

"He accused one of the father's of committing the crime," Hotch says.

JJ and Morgan give each other identical looks. Kate looks horrified, and Spencer is stunned speechless.

"What happened after?" she prompts.

Hotch doesn't speak. Kate sighs, then leads JJ away. As she passes Spencer, she asks him to follow her because Hotch and Morgan need to speak alone. He nods and leaves without another word.

"Aaron," Derek says.

"I ended the interrogation and dragged him out of the room. And then I punched him in the face because those women remind me of Haley and those fathers remind me of myself and every accusation he made reminded me of the months after her death and I couldn't do it."

Derek wants to punch Dave himself. He must have known what he was doing, and in some strange and obscure way thought his actions would help the situation. Clearly he couldn't have been more wrong.

"You didn't cause Haley's death," he says, for lack of any other words.

"I did. Maybe I didn't put the gun to her head and pull the trigger, but I did cause it. That's not what I'm scared about though."

"What are you scared of then?" Derek asks, well aware that they're in the middle of a police station where anyone could hear them, but needing to take advantage of Aaron's vulnerability before he let his mask slip back into place.

"Scratch. I punched Dave and it felt like Scratch was laughing at me, egging me on to hurt him more. The worst part is that I almost did. Punching him felt good, and then I panicked and now I don't know- I don't know whether the only thing I did was punch him or if I did something more."

Derek curses under his breath. "How long have you been feeling like that?"

Hotch shrugs. "I couldn't- I forgot what time it was when I stumbled back here. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he says, the words almost reflexive because of every apology Aaron has ever given him. "We just need to ground you."

He takes Aaron's hands, noting that the muscles are moving the way they should be. It's a small thing, but it's a good thing, because it means he's wearing the wrist support when he needs them and doing the physical therapy.

“Look at me,” he commands softly.

Aaron does so willingly. “Derek, we’re in a conference room.”

“That’s good. Can you give me four other facts that prove you’re here, in this moment with me?”

"My name is Aaron Hotchner. I am forty-four years old. We are in a police station. You are Derek Morgan. There is a door behind you and a window behind me- the window is locked, but the door is wide open. We can both see if someone walks in."

"Show off," Derek teases.

Aaron manages to smile slightly. “Thank you,” he whispers after a moment.

“You have nothing to thank me for,” Derek says. He means it.

This time, Aaron’s laugh is self-deprecating. “I’m a horrible person to look after.”

“Not to me you’re not. How do you feel now?”

He shrugs. “Better, I guess.”

“Drink some water. Slowly. I’ll go check on Dave.”

“Do you think he’s going to hate me?” Aaron asks.

“You’re the closest thing he has to a friend. Of course not,” Derek says. He keeps his tone light, but deep down he’s afraid that Dave will. Not forever, he could never do that, but for long enough that something else goes wrong.

He finds Dave in the bathroom. 

“Hotch told me what happened,” he says.

“And what? You’re here to tell me that I shouldn’t have pushed because he’s fragile and hurting? Did you tell him that he shouldn’t have fucking punched me in the face because of something I said to a suspect?”

“Those men were not suspects and you know that,” Derek snaps. He sighs. “I wasn’t coming here to tell you that you shouldn’t have pushed. I came to see whether or not you were okay.”

Dave raises an eyebrow. Derek sighs, again.

“He saw Scratch when he punched you. Now he’s worried. And he’s falling back into old patterns. I told him he didn’t kill Haley and not only did he not believe me, he flat out disagreed and said he did.”

“What do you want me to do?” Dave asks. He doesn’t sound angry, just tired. Derek wants to shout at him. He may be tired after this one event, but he’s not been the one picking up the pieces and gluing their fragile leader back together for the past few years. Dave doesn’t get to be tired. Not whilst Derek is still the only one able to do anything.

“I don’t know Dave. You’ve known him the longest. It was you that found him in the immediate aftermath. You took the gun from him- rather poetic given the last time an unsub targeted him, you told him to take yours- and got him to speak.”

Dave blinks a few times. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I thought being hard on him would bring him back, but I was wrong.”

“It’s okay. You just need to correct yourself now,” Derek says, for lack of any other words.

“I just want him to be the boy he was when he first joined the unit,” Dave whispers.

Derek did not know the boy his friend was then, but he does know the Aaron that existed before Boston. The Aaron that held a baby Jack in their arms like that one small child was enough to remove every piece of darkness to exist. The Aaron that had grabbed Haley’s hand and taken her dancing so they could spend a bit of time together.

"We all do. But he's gone now. The only thing we can do is try to save whatever pieces of him live in the Aaron that is sat in the conference room, beating himself up over something that was not his fault because of your misplaced comment," Derek says. They have a killer to catch. There's no time to entertain this.

"I know. Thank you. For doing what the rest of us are too afraid to," Dave replies. Derek shifts uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze. 

Something about the dynamic between the two men has changed, and everybody has noticed.

"Somebody has to," is all he can say, before he leaves Rossi to wash his hands and search for the man that had promised Aaron everything he could ever want, all those years ago when he first recruited him for the BAU.

There's an empty glass of water beside Hotch when Derek returns, and he's silently thankful that for once in his life, Aaron listened. He's deep in conversation with one of the police officers, so he refrains from making any comments, but when Aaron turns back towards the table, he goes over without a second thought.

He tells himself it's because he wants to know what happened just then. Because he wants to know whether or not they have any more information that can be used to their advantage. He tells himself it has nothing to do with the fact that learning about the case means he doesn't have to focus on the minute tremble of Hotch's hands. Doesn't have to see the hollow look in his eyes- a look of a man so defeated that he has no reason to try anymore.

The problem with being a profiler is that you rarely fall for anyone's bullshit- including your own.

“Did the officer have some additional information?” Derek asks.

Hotch hears him, obviously, but does not respond.

“Hotch,” he repeats.

“No. He didn’t. He wanted to know why you were holding my hands.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “And what did you say?”

“That ten days a man that managed to turn people that would never dare hurt another person into horrific killers drugged me, causing me to hallucinate the deaths of the same people that are solving his case for him, and as a result, I cannot always tell when things are real,” Aaron deadpans.

For a moment, Derek honestly can’t tell whether or not he’s joking. Then Aaron gives him the smallest smile, and he relaxes slightly. The last thing they need happening is officers spreading even more rumours about the types of cases the BAU work on.

He starts to reply with a joke of his own, then sees Aaron’s smile fade away like it was never there. He wonders how instinctive the action is- how many times was that little boy told he was too much, and how many times did he fade into the background like he didn’t even exist?

Without turning, he knows it’s Dave.

“I’m going to see if Spencer needs any help,” Derek says.

For a moment, it seems like Aaron is going to beg him to stay. But like most of his displays of humanity, it passes in a second, and then he simply nods, not even trying to fight.

“Aaron,” Dave says, walking over with purpose.

“Rossi don’t. Please,” Aaron pleads.

“What you did was stupid. But my actions were also uncalled for,” he says. It’s the closest he’ll ever get to a proper apology. Aaron accepts it because there’s not much else he can do. Dave pretends it’s going to fix everything because it’s the only thing that will get him through the case.

“Do you seriously think the fathers are to blame?” Hotch asks.

Rossi shakes his head. “Not anymore. I just needed to be sure.” He also needed to be sure that Aaron was fine, and given his response to Rossi’s accusation, he can’t say he’s convinced.

"Good," Aaron says, and the smile he gives Dave is so small and subtle, but so full of love, that for a single moment, the older profiler is able to convince himself that the fragile collection of skin and bones in front of him is still the hopeful boy that joined the unit. But then the moment passes and he's left feeling worse than before.

When the team come back, picking up on the cues that both Hotch and Rossi laid down, they go back to acting like nothing is wrong. Like the women in the photos are victims that deserve justice, and not the mirror of the same light they failed to save five years ago.

There are no breaks in the case, and they return to the hotel defeated and miserable. Budget problems mean they're doubling up. Part of Derek wants to switch rooms with Dave so he can keep an eye on Aaron, but the bigger part of him knows it would be a terrible idea, so he texts him saying that if he needs anything, no matter what time it is, he'll be available.

Aaron mouths the words thank you once he's read the message. Derek counts it as a win, and he tries to remain calm when Dave texts him saying that when he entered the shower- after Hotch- although the water dial was set to be normal, the water ran hot. Too hot.

He refrains from commenting the next morning, when Aaron clasps his glass of freezing water like a lifeline. In some ways, it is. And he knows what it's a sign of. He isn't sure whether it's caused by something in particular, or if he's just overwhelmed, but the hotel dining area- where Kate and Spencer would both hear- isn't the place to ask.

They get to the precinct, and it becomes clear that nobody there has slept. Another woman was found dead a few minutes before they got there. The father and son are sitting in the same conference room the BAU were working out of. For a moment, Aaron looks like he's going to kill the person that sent them there. The lead on the case quickly intercepts, saying they moved the boards and evidence files, and he relaxes slightly.

But before anyone can sleep, he removes his blazer and tie, before unbuttoning his top button and rolling his sleeves up. And then he walks into the conference room. Derek blinks, then it clicks. Aaron looks like a father. Someone both people sat in the room can trust. JJ hands him the information on the file, and his breathing stops for a moment.

The father and son could have been Aaron and Jack. If Aaron's eyes were darker and Jack's hair lighter, they would be the boys smiling in the photo provided with the file. He wants to take over the conversation Hotch must be having, but he finds himself rooted to the spot. How many cases are going to hit too close to home before Aaron gives up? Before it feels like every victim wears Haley's face? 

How many more times can Aaron Hotchner look into the darkest parts of humanity before his hands stop going cold at crime scenes and Derek Morgan needs to take his place in some weird parallel of the events that occurred after Boston? 

When the father and son leave the room, he jumps out of his chair and runs over.

"We will catch this man. And if you need anything, please don't hesitate to contact me," he hears Aaron say.

He sighs to himself.

The father shakes his hand and leaves, guiding his son with nothing more than a gentle hand to the back of his head. He sees Aaron swallow. 

"You know you can't promise things like that," he chastises, not truly meaning it.

"It wasn't a promise. It was a guarantee," Hotch snaps.

Morgan simply raises an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry."

"Want to tell me about it?"

"I told him about Haley, and how I found her. And about how Jack was just down the hallway in my office- the one place in our home that my work touched, even if he never found it- so now he can't be alone on New Years or Independence Day. I only said it because he told me I didn't understand what it was like. To have to do that."

No amount of surgery is ever going to fix the hole in Aaron's heart that Haley's death created. They could plant seeds of love and watch them blossom into flowers of acceptance and fearlessness in every other part of his body, but that one area could never be touched.

Derek knows this. He's seen it before.So he doesn't offer any words, because there are none. Instead, he takes Aaron's arm and he squeezes the elbow. It is Aaron's non-verbal method of saying thank you. So in that moment, it can also be his.

Aaron isn't entirely sure why Derek is thanking him, but he learnt long ago that when someone said something, you didn't push. You accepted their words- whether they were kind declarations of love or as sharp as knives- and you moved on.

When Derek lets go of him, he walks back over to the team, feeling slightly lighter and infinitely more grounded.

Kate tells him another woman had been taken, and the weight he thought he'd been able to let go off settles on his chest like a death threat. There is a single moment where she worries that this will be the thing that causes him to fall off the edge of the cliff he's been standing on for far too long, but then he stands up properly and it's like nothing ever happened.

He doesn't sleep, instead pouring over the case file whilst Rossi gently snores beside him. If Jason had been with the team. he would've somehow realised that Hotch was still awake, and told him to go to sleep. And Hotch would've obeyed. But Jason wasn't with the team. He was dead. And sometimes that knowledge knocked Aaron off guard, so he stopped focusing on that and started concentrating on the woman.

Their break comes the next morning.

Garcia hasn't slept either, and between the two of them, they have a name and a location. Everyone piles into the cars, vests on and weapons ready, because even though nobody had said it, there was no way this is ending without at least one shot being fired.

The door to the building is unlocked, and they have their unsub surrounded within seconds. Hotch suddenly feels like a bucket of ice has been poured over him, causing him to freeze, and the blood to start pounding in his ears. Nothing feels real to him. He tightens the grip on his gun.

His name is Aaron Hotchner.

He is forty-four years old.

He is holding a gun because he is on a case.

The unsub is holding a knife to a woman's throat.

The woman looks just like Haley- no. He cannot think that. Not now. 

"Let her go," JJ commands softly.

"No," their unsub says.

What is his name? And why can Aaron not remember his name?

"If you put that knife down, and let her go, we can tell the courts that you cooperated with us. That'll be nice, won't it?" Kate adds. Her tone is completely level. Calming in a way that it shouldn't be.

The unsub grins, then presses the knife even closer to his victim's throat. She lets out a terrified whimper and closes her eyes. He yanks her hair, forcing her to open then, and he seems pleased with himself.

"I don't care about the courts. I care about the man I'm doing all of this for. He's going to be great, and he's going to make me great too. Just you wait and see."

This wasn't part of the profile. There was never meant to be a more dominant partner. The control Aaron has been clinging to in order to get through this case is slowly slipping away with each piece of information he either cannot remember or is introduced to him. 

"He? Who is he?" Spencer asks.

The man cocks his head. "Is it not obvious?"

Spencer shakes his head. "We're not like you. We need you to explain."

He nicks the skin slightly. Blood pools at the tip of the blade. Another digression from the previous pattern. No knives were ever used to cut the skin. The kills had been quick and clean. Why was everything changing?"

"I won't."

"The only way you get out of this alive is if you explain everything to us. Because this man, he won't make you great. Whoever he is, he only cares about himself. Not you. Certainly not your life. But we care about you. Just set the knife down," Derek says.

Aaron knows he needs to contribute, but he just can't do it. His tongue is like a useless knot in his mouth that he can't undo because his brain is twisted too.

"No," the man says, bringing it dangerously close to the woman's pulse.

"Aaron!" Derek shouts. "You're the only one with a clear shot. You need to take it. Or do something. Do you hear me? You are the only one that can do this. If he moves that knife, take the shot."

Aaron turns in the sound of the voice. Derek is telling him that he needs to take the shot, and he can see why. With the way they're stood, he is the only one that can possibly avoid hitting either the woman or another team member. 

He raises his hands, ignoring how they tremble. Front sight. Trigger press. Follow through. Three steps that he has been following since his days at the Academy. Three steps that mean he has never missed. Never failed.

The man smirks.

Aaron turns to make sure nobody else will get hurt, or can take the shot. But when he looks at Derek, it's not Derek.

It's Peter Lewis.

"No," he whispers, but in the silence of the room, he may as well have shouted at the top of his voice.

He turns to look at the man, and he sees that he is about to shoot Derek Morgan. The one person that has never been afraid of him. The one man that is still good and undamaged by his hands. The one man that can and has led the team without any sort of assistance with him.

"Aaron!" Derek's voice exclaims, but he still wears Mr Scratch's face.

Aaron does not know what is real anymore, but he knows he needs to minimise the damage. The gun falls from his hands, with the safety off. It lands on the floor with a clatter that is too loud to his ears.

Their unsub laughs, once, and slits the woman's throat. She falls to the ground, dead by the time she hits the ground. Derek- real Derek, whose hands have always been warmer than his- fires his gun once. The unsub also falls to the ground with a shout.

Aaron closes his eyes.

He hears his name.

He tastes copper.

He touches his own hand, startled by the coldness.

He sees Derek's terrified face.

He smells sage.

He smells sage.

He smells sage. And then the world goes black.

When he comes round, he does not know where he is. He does not know where the team is. He cannot ground himself in the moment or come up with five facts that prove his surroundings are real. 

He opens his eyes. The team is gone.

And he is covered in blood.