#wanting to shake my hand to tell me I'm an inspiration for not killing myself; giving me dirty looks for existing in public

[mythicalcoolkid]

You don't wish your disability was worse or more visible, you wish your disability was taken seriously. Please stop confusing the two, I guarantee you would not get the support you need JUST by being more severe or more visible. Please listen to visibly disabled people when we tell you it isn't better on our side

[spidybaby]

Not The Romantic Type | Part Three

Part One | Part Two

"Aren't you nervous?" Fer asks, hands busy helping Pedri fix his smoking. "I'm about to colpase from the excitement."

"I feel like I'm going to cry myself to sleep, but in a bad way, I can't believe that I'm actually on the top three to get this."

If you ask him, only in his dreams, he was able to be on the top three of the most likely to get the ballon d'or.

He improved so much over the years that he worked more on perfecting his game to be able to classifie into the best players.

He remembered the Golden Boy award, Messi won one before winning his ballon d'or. Now he's following into his idol footsteps.

"Mom wants a picture of you on the suit." Fer says as he snaps a picture of him. "Venga, let's go get some food, we still have that meeting with the constructor."

Pedri thank the designer, changing into his normal clothes back to meet the new contractor.

Fer and him are partnering in a restaurant, he trusted his brother as a chef for his whole career. It was obvious he was trusting him with something this big.

"We need an interior designer." The constructor tells them. "I know you have a vision of how you want this to look like. However, I feel that with a little help and more inspiration we can make this amazing."

"Vale, if you think it's what we need, then let's do it!" Pedri says excitedly. "Fer will be the one meeting up with this person since I'll be at the field."

"No problem, I think my girl will be the one. Not that I'm talking bad about the guy, but she's just a star when it comes to modern luxury style."

"Perfecto!" Fer smiles, "Let's meet up with her, I'm so excited."

Pedri was excited about everything, the ceremony in France, the new project, the possible winning of the Champions League.

He was focused on the field and nothing else. That's why Fernando decided to be the caregiver or the project, so Pedri would be all into his element.

The dressing room was euphoric, the players happy about winning the semifinals, they're playing the final at home.

"Visca al Barca" Gavi yells.

"Visca al Barca" they all second.

"And let's all celebrate to our next Ballon d'or, the magician Pedri." Ter Stegen shakes him. "Vamos Pedri!"

They throw all the water they can at him, making him smile and laugh at how much support he has from his friends. His second family.

After the celebration Ferran invited Pedri to a little party he planned. "No lo sé, tiburón. I'm kinda tired and I have to meet with the designer to measure the tux"

"A little party never killed nobody." Ferran insisted, but he denied. He needs rest and peace.

"Vale, pero me lo debes." He hugs him tight. "See you around, pepi."

He drives home, passing in front of the place where the restaurant will take place. He can't help but feel pride, this feels like an extension of their parents' hard work.

Fer was laying on the couch, checking some ideas the ID (interior designer) sent them.

"Hola, tonto." Pedri pulls lightly his brothers hair. "Are those the ideas this girl sent you?"

"Si, look at this, I love this idea she has." Fer pass him the iPad. He sees the ideas, loving all of it. "She's amazing, first thing and I'm already in with everything."

"Yes, this is cool." He checks everything, loving every idea. "When are you meeting her?"

"I think tomorrow." Fer gets up, walking to the kitchen and pulling out food. "But don't worry, I'll update you on everything."

✨️✨️✨️

"So, as you can see here." The constructor pointed to the ceiling. "We thought about lighting that can be dimmed as the sun light goes down."

"My brother and I loved that idea, specially because we have that at home recently installed and I think it will go so well."

"Perfect, our designer will come any minute now, she told me traffic was hectic and she was just a block away but stuck."

"It's okay, I get it. It took me an hour and a half to get here today, so I can't blame her." He laughs, interrupted by his ring tone." Excuse me for a second."

The constructor kept looking at his structure with your design. The sound of heels makes him turn, you were walking fast while holding your iPad and a few more things.

"I'm so sorry, Marc." You apologize, leaving your things on the desk. "I think today is not my day. Is the client mad?"

"Not at all, Y/n." He pats your back. "He's an amazing dude, super relaxed. You will hit it off real quick."

You smile relief. You didn't want to lose this client, specifically because Marc told you they wanted to expand if the first restaurant goes well, meaning you will expand with them.

"Let's meet him them." You nervously giggle. "What's his name again?"

"Fernando, he's a chef."

Before you can even connect the dots, Fer walks into the room, saying goodbye to the person on the line.

"Fernado, so nice you're bac. This is our interior designer, Y/n."

You smile at the sight of him. Haven't seen him since the breakup. He has more facial hair, and he's stronger and definitely more mature looking.

"We know each other." You smile, still surprised at his presence. "We go way back actually."

Fer is as astonishing as you are, opening his arms to greet you into a hug. "It's been a long time no see." He laughs, hugging you tight. "Gosh, I can't believe you're our designer."

"I can't believe you're my clients." You laugh. "Let's leave the talk for later, I want to explain this to you, and then we can use the time."

He nods, letting you explain every part of your ideas. He can't deny that even if it wasn't you, he loves the ideas and can't think of any way to make it better.

You ask him about colors, measurements, textures, and different stuffs you will need to prepare yourself for your work.

"Perfect! We can't say that this meeting was a success." Marc happily says. "I'll keep working while you two chat a little, excuse me." He wayves goodbye while Fer and you say goodbye.

"Entonces," Fer says, picking your side like he used to. "You're a well-known designer." You nod, smiling.

"And you're a well-known chef, Mister González." You laugh. "It's so nice to see you. How have you been?"

"It's been good, I'm older but I think wiser." He hands you your iPad. Helping you with some things. "What about you?"

"I mean, you can tell how I am. I got my dream job and I feel like nothing can go better than this." You shrug.

Fer wants to ask. He needs to ask if you have someone or not, but he doesn't want to intrude into your private life.

"So, how's the family?"

"They're good, nothing to report." You nod. "What about your family? How are Rosy and Fernando? How is the Tasca going?"

You can't help but miss them, specially Rosy, she acted like a mother to you, always worrying about you, taking care of you when you were sick.

"Mom and dad are so good. They are healthy." He smiles at the thought of them. "The Tasca is doing good. This is a little extension of it, but bigger."

"I'm so happy for you, Fer." You hug him, happy about him, making his dream of having his own restaurant come true. "How is Pedri?"

Fer is speechless, he didn't think you will ask about him, not after the way you two ended things.

"Bueno, no le va mal." He laughs. "He's on top three to win the ballon d'or, Barcelona is on the UCL finals, la Liga finals. He's at the top."

You smile, you're happy he is getting all the awards he deserves. He's always been amazing at his job.

"I'm happy for him." You nod. "Even tho I haven't really been aware of the team. I've been busy lately."

"Maybe you can catch up, he's also in this with me." Fer smiles as big as he can "and he's single." He elbow you.

You laugh at this, blushing a little at the confession. You did hear some rumors about him and some girls, deep down wanting for it to be just that, a rumor.

"Don't know why that's important." You giggle, looking down. "We been over for a long time now."

"Well, if you want him back, he's available to be picked."

"Fer." You laugh. "He wouldn't pick me, specially with all the girls he's probably getting." You look away while saying that.

He always got girls, and nobody could deny that. In your mind, they were girls who were hotter than you, prettier than you, more experienced than you.

That was something that made you feel insecure, not that he was engaging with them in any way, he always ignored them or just straight up blocked them.

But you had that little insecure voice from time to time that told you that he had better options and that you needed to step up.

"Don't say that." He says in a serious tone. "You were the best thing Pedri had."

Fer wasn't lying. After you left, Pedri went down a very dark path. He was going out, drinking, bringing girls home.

Everything to make him forget about you. Girls who looked nothing like you, who acted nothing like you.

Girls who went after his money and his fame. They were doing everything they could to show they were with The Pedri from Barcelona.

You on the other side, always made sure to be cautious about not getting recognized. You never wanted the attention that came with being his girlfriend.

You were with him since he was that Canarian guy at Las Palmas, that skinny boy who made it big.

You were there before the fame, before the fans, before the name. But you were his past.

"If you say so." You exhale. "I will send you a virtual look of everything with all of the things you picked."

The change of subject makes Fer think you may not be as interested in his brother as he thought you would be.

Maybe you moved out and didn't want to let it out. Maybe you changed your likes and now you're not up for a footballer.

"Thank you, I'll see you here next time I pass by?"

"You will, I'll be here a lot more."

With a hug goodbye you both walk out to your cars. You wave him as you enter your car, getting a honk from him.

Fer can't even believe the picture he's seeing. He thought Pedri was being honest with him when he said that no more one night stands with random girls whom the club invite to their parties.

He can't help but feel embarrassed about talking to you all this past days about how much Pedri would love to have you back.

But now his little brother is on all the magazines and gossip news of Barcelona and Spain as a taken man by this random influencer who obviously posted more about being at the party.

One part of him can't blame Pedri, he was in a committed relationship since he was sixteen, he obviously went out and went crazy after the break up.

But six years later was a little too much for him to keep his crazy behavior. He had a chance of winning the girl of his dreams back.

Fer can't help but think about you. If you see this news and pictures, you will definitely think all he's been saying is a joke and that he's playing with your feelings.

And how right he was, you can't help but feel anger. He's been spending all this time changing topics to Pedri.

"Pedri was busy but says hello."

"Oh Pedri can't wait to be here to see you."

"When you're back together, I'll be the happiest brother in law you will ever have."

Was he teasing you?

You don't even want to go to work today. You want to call in sick and spend all day in bed thinking about how stupid you are for believing Fernando's words.

But you won't. The breakup didn't stop you back then, and it won't now.

You will walk with your head up, ready to work in your nice outfit. You won't mind, you have so much to lose, he already lost you.

He lost you.

You didn't lose him.

"Buenos días!" You say, giving Marc his favorite coffee order as usual. "Any news I should now?"

"Well, the Calcutta Gold Marble is taking longer than expected but after that nothing to worry about."

You nod, leaving your things at your little station. "As always with Calcutta."

"By the way, Fernando was looking for you. He's outside talking with David." You nod, thanking him and walking to where Fer is.

You know he's about to mention the picture. He can't help it but be so obvious about things. But you will change the subject as much as you can't.

"Hey, boss." You smile "heard you wanted to talk to me."

"Hey, how are you?" He plays with his necklace.

"I'm good. I had a very nice sleep." You smile. "I want to tell you, the Calcutta Gold Marble we picked for the bar area is taking more time. Don't worry about it. That's normal with that material, but just a heads up."

He half smiled, not sure how to approach you. He wants to say sorry. He wants to kick his brother.

"I'm sorry." He spat, can't even think straight due to the blame he feels. "You probably saw the picture and -."

You sigh, not wanting to have this conversation this early. "Fer, let's focus on what we need to focus."

"I just feel like I need to apologize."

"You don't. Let's move to what's important here. Your restaurant."

He understood quickly, not bringing the topic again. That made you relax. Before this project you were fine not thinking about Pedri. You are fine now.

You focus on making this project happen. You wanted Fer to have the best reaction when he sees his project finish.

✨️✨️✨️

"So, are you nervous about tomorrow's match?" The press guy asks him. "It's the finals for the UCL, and then you have to go to France for the Ballon D'or. You have a pretty crazy schedule."

"Bueno, I think I've always had a crazy schedule." He laughs, making the interviewers laugh too. "But I'm not nervous, I trust my team, I have a big trust in all the work we've been doing. We trust out Mister, so to me it's about focusing on staying healthy, making goals and winning."

"Walk us through the process you have for your next trip to France."

"Joder, it's not that much. If I'm honest, I have the tux, have the shoes, have my family, don't think I need anything else."

"Pedri, we got many requests to ask you if you don't walk with a ballon that night, will we see you walking with a special someone?"

He half smile at that question, knowing he fucked up by getting too close to María at the party.

"I don't have a girlfriend. If that's what you're asking." He shrugs. "I'm single. And probably the only lady I will be going to hug during the ceremony and after is my mom. Thank you."

He walks away, mad at himself for allowing this to happen again. He knows this girls just want the hype attached to his name. Specially now, with all the winnings of the club.

"Dude, you okay?" Gavi asks, noticing his frown. "What did they say?"

"They asked if I'm walking out that fucking auditorium with someone, es una putada, I will celebrate the week I don't get linked with some random girl."

Gavi lift his eyebrow. "Si, but the rumors don't just appear." he scuffs and turn to his locker.

"What do you mean?"

"Pedri, you used to be out and about with a different girl every other week. You flew this girl to Manchester. When you came back, you had this other girl in a new hotel. You're doing this to yourself."

He can't even argue because it's true. He did all those things. He flew all these girls. He fucked up his reputation.

"Me cago en la puta." He threw the towel at the inside of his locker. "I just wish I can have some fucking privacy."

"Then don't involve yourself with girls who only care to expose that they're with you." He hits him with his jersey. "Dude, you can go out and find a nice girl who will want a relationship and not just sex and a picture."

He nods, stresses about the topic already. Gavi is right. So is Ferran when he advise him not to mess with every girl that flaunt at him.

And when Fer tries to get some sense into him finding someone to settle to. Someone who will be happy to welcome him after a long day, someone who wants to grow a family with him.

He doesn't want that. Not without you.

He agreed to move out that day when you asked him to be happy, to find someone who would celebrate all his victories.

But he had that. He had you.

He lost you.

The game was about to finish, the extra time about to finish.

The Bayern had a corner. So they have to step up and prevent them from scoring. Just two minutes more and that's it.

"Vale, a ver." He yells, catching up the attention of the players near him. "Marc, just this cover up and the Champion is ours, please catch it." He makes them laugh. "Fermin, cover Davies. Gavi, cover Saliba. I'll cover their number 10."

They all nod, positioning themselves. They were nervous, this was their chance. This was their final chance.

When Marc let the ball go, Gavi was at the right place at the right time. He hit the ball with his feet, making it go out of the goalkeeper area.

Raphinha runs away with it. Getting the ball as far as possible from their area. Just when he's trying to make a assist to Pau, the referee blows the whistle.

Pedri runs to Gavi and Fermin. Hugging them while screaming. The public was as static as they are, cheering for them.

They won. They got the Champions League.

He look over at where his family is, they're screaming and jumping. Everybody is, the whole stadium is.

Running to his parents open arms. He can't help the tears of happiness as he hugs his family.

Feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrr added to his story

You are happy for him, you can't lie to yourself like you do to other people.

You feel proud, he got everything he ever wanted, he got la liga, he got the Champions and he's probably will get the Ballon.

And he did what you asked him to do. He got himself someone to celebrate all that with. Someone who will make him happy.

The sour taste in your mouth haven't left since you saw that picture of him with that girl at the party.

He left you behind, like you asked him to.

You tried to focus on the work you were doing, turning the tv off to pay more attention.

You can't, your mind goes back to the way things used to be. He made mistakes, and you accepted all those mistakes because you loved him.

While he is at his party, with his family and his new girl. You are trying to forget about the memories of him.

You fix all the things Fer asked you to fix in the design, making the things he wanted as similar as possible as he explained.

You texted him, asking him if he was able to come see you to approve everything so you order the material.

Fer answers you while he opens the door of his home. He was still ashamed about the picture situation. He could sense the change in your attitude before and after that picture.

"I need your help, I don't think I can walk upstairs by myself." Pedri whine, he drank more than he should, making him dizzy.

Fer helps him, carrying him while walking upstairs. "Pedri. You need to help me just a bit."

He feels bad, he doesn't want to celebrate alone. All his teammates with their partners and kids and he's alone.

Yes, he has his parents, his brother, this family and friends. But he needs a hug at night when he gets insecure. He needs a shoulder to cry.

He craves intimacy, not sexual intimacy. He wants to feel secure with someone to the point of trusting all his worries and deepest secrets.

He wants someone to know his family, to sit at his parents' table and have a relationship with them.

"I'm sad," he confess. "Am I allowed to be sad?"

Fer can't even understand where this is coming from. He never saw signs of Pedri being sad or never heard anybody telling him to suck it up.

"Pepi, you can be sad." He reassured him. "Why are you sad? Tell me"

Pedri just shakes his head, not even sure how to approach the topic. "I miss my life back when I was twenty."

Fer understood, his brother carries a lot of responsibility on his shoulders, especially now with the whole <he needs to bring the ballon d'or home just like Messi>

"How can I help you, pepi?"

"If you have a magic wand that can bring me back to when I was happy and didn't have to fuck a girl every night to feel something, please use it."

He frowns, not sure how to reassure his brother. He knew Pedri felt alone. He can tell. He told him off about his sex life.

Not shaming him, but making him understand that the pattern he was following was not healthy at all.

"I can help you by not leaving you alone." He hugs him, pating his back lightly to calm him down. "I'm here, always will."

He helps Pedri take his clothes off and get into bed, he wants to check him in case he feels down again.

Once Pedri is passed out, he tries to plan something, how can he help him?

He picks his phone to text his mom that they're home. He sees the last text he sent is to you. The light bulb on his head turns.

He can help him, he's not with anyone, not that girl at the party and is done with the playtime every other week.

If he asks him to go to the meeting and approve the things you need, you can meet and reconnect.

He just needs his brother to be ready tomorrow to meet you. He knows he still thinks about you, and you might still do the same.

He texts you, asking you to meet at four p.m., by that time his brother will be up and fresh to see you.

Feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr added to his close friends

"I don't even want to be near a drink in my life." Pedri makes a disgusted face, he needs a whole gallon of water.

"Finish the drink so we can go."

The drink looks bad, very bad. Even tho it was just a tea with no sugar. "Maybe I'll just go brush my teeth."

Fer feels excited. He wants his plan to go well. He's anxious but happy. He knows it's about time you two make a move and solve what needs to be solved.

"Vamos, big head." Pedri smack the back of Fer head. "You drive, I can't do nothing yet."

The trip was not as long as usual. The streets were lonely and Fer was driving slowly. He confirmed you were coming before leaving the house.

When he parked, he noticed Marc's car parked in front of the building. To his luck, the parking lot was being modified, so he needed to park in the nearby building.

"Oye, I'll find somewhere to park. There's a little office, white door to the left. Wait for me there."

He does as he's told, walking with his head down. Still feeling the pain from all the drinking he did.

"Hola?" He asks, opening the door a little before entering.

He looks at all the things on the walls, the chair textures, the floor wood, the bar design, the lamps options.

He's in love with all the ideas, with the little real-life version of what the restaurant will look like. With the little pink pen notes the designer left. The door opening can't bother him. Looking at all the planning that they made in so little time.

You can't even blame him, you weren't paying much attention either. Focusing on answering Marc's text about something related to a change that needed to he approved as soon as possible.

"Hola Fer. Sorry I haven't gotten a chance to greet you properly. I've been so busy with all this little things."

You open your bag to search for your iPad, wanting to show him everything quickly to move out and not waste more time.

Pedri turns quickly, the sound of your voice amazes him. You're there after so long. After all this time.

"Hey about the Marble, I think it's best if we just switch the whole piece. This is taking so long." You won't turn, he won't say a word. "Fer?"

The two of you are just standing there, looking at each other, no words in between. Nothing.

Pedri thought a lot about what would happen if he ever saw you again. Definitely all that planning went out the window the second he heard your voice.

You practice too, what if you find him in a bar some day in Barcelona? You wouldn't mind it. But you're minding it very well.

"Hola." You finally say, voice breathless and gone.

His eyes are rooming you up and down. He can't help but point at every little detail that's different about you, different in a good way. You feel the heat coming up your cheeks. He's there, looking more mature, more handsome.

You shake your head, you have one job to do, getting the changes approved to the project move forward.

"Is your brother coming? Because I really need him to approve this for me." You grab your iPad, tying to look uninterested.

"Oh, I can approve it." He extend his hand and you hand him the device. "Just explain to me what this is exactly?"

While you explain every little detail about the changes, showed him how it was before to compare and to see if he likes it.

He likes everything, but there's something about the way you talk, something about the way you smell, you didn't change that perfume you love.

"I like your hair." Your hair is longer. He loves that. You always talked about wanting to let it grow to try new hairstyles.

You smile, the closeness not helping the situation. "Thank you." You say softly.

You might act calm, but from the inside, you're about to burst because of the way he looks. It's a good thing he changed his style.

Also his perfume, he's using the same perfume you gave him once, he didn't change it. And that facial hair is gone, he's shaved and clean.

"Do you like how everything is, or do you want to make any more changes?" You ask, trying to act professional.

"I mean, you're a star. This looks amazing." He praise you. Making you feel a wave of pride. "Fer will love this."

Your smile grows, you're happy he likes the changes. But you like even more the way he's praising you work like never before.

"So how are you?"

You close the iPad, sending Marc an "approval" copy of the digital prototype. "I'm good, been working hard and I've been busy with it." You shrug, not sure what else to say. "Congrats on the UCL, I heard you guys won."

He smiles, winning the game with his two goals was more than he ever expected. "We did, thank you."

"two goals huh?" You tease him. Feeling a little confident.

He rolls his eyes playfully. Laughing at your teasing. "I'm kind of proud of that, I'm in my Messi era? Or something like that."

You both laugh, you missed this, miss having someone to joke to. You back away from his circle, haven't seen his friends since then, when you are in Tenerife you won't go to his parents Tasca.

You missed having someone from your past in Barcelona. Someone who knew you before the city, someone who knew you as well as he did.

"That's great." You pat his arm. "I guess I'll see you around." You walk with him to the entrance. "Tell your brother I'll text him, I still need to show him some things."

"Sure, if not, you can text me. It won't hurt if I get a little more involved." He throws the jab at you, noticing your little lip smile.

"I'll ask your brother to send me your number." You say, stopping in from of the exit door. "Bye." You walk over the construction area, he can't keep his eyes away from you.

When he's out, Fernando is waiting for him in his car, the smile he has, knowing what he did. He acts as if nothing happened, he couldn't find parking and wait for you.

"Hey, was everything looking good?"

Pedri scuff, shaming his head while smiling. "Hijo'puta" he jokes, hitting him in the head. "You didn't told me she was here"

"I wanted to surprise you."

"Joder, she looks beautiful. Her smile hasn't changed at all, and her eyes, mierda, are shining like crazy."

Fernando is happy hearing Pedri talk about you, he haven't seen him this happy in a long time. Haven't talk about anyone like this in a long time.

"Her perfume, Dios mio. She hasn't changed that perfume, the same since we met." He's still rambling about you. "You didn't tell me, why?"

"I thought it was for the best, plus you were finding out once you started coming."

"Would it be crazy if I confess that I might be in love still?"

The smile on their faces is comical. Fer knew he never forgot you, and Pedri was just admitting it out loud.

"No." He laughs. "You have one more chance, dude. Don't blow it."

And he doesn't.

Every chance he gets now, he will visit the place. He will be there even tho there's nothing of interest happening.

He loves making small talk with you. Having you explain everything you do or everything you order.

It's weeks and weeks of him doing this, bringing you a coffee or drink every time. You can't help but smile at him, still remembering your order of drink.

Also if he has training in the evenings, he will bring you something to eat for lunch. Worrying because you don't give yourself a little break. In his words.

"This is what I was telling you the other day. If you put this on the bar, it will look better than this other one." You show him, thinking he's playing attention.

"Let me take you out on a date."

You smile, not sure what to say. You want to accept, you still have feelings for him. But you don't want to feel what you used to feel when you were with him.

"Please, I know a place you would love."

"Pedri, I don't think it's a good idea. We are working together and if this doesn't go well its just going to be awkward for us."

"It will not, please just give me a chance." he beggs, grabbing your hands. "If you don't like it or you don't feel good I promise I will back off."

His hands on yours, thumbs caressing your fingers. You want to say no, not repeating the pattern. But you want to give him the chance his asking.

"Vale, but you have to promise me that you won't wear those ugly skinny jeans."

He laughs, he knows how much you used to hate those kind of jeans. Always asking him to let you into his closet to get rid of them.

"If you want to you can dress me, I'll be Ken and you can style me all the way."

You shake your head no while laughing, "I don't think you'll like me throwing half your closet."

If you had. A chance back then, those Jean shorts and skinny jeans were a must in the out of the closet list.

"Let's go tonight, I'll pick you up and everything."

You nod, writing your address in a pink post it. Thing that make him smile, you loved leaving little notes for him everywhere in his house or car.

"pick me up by 8?" You ask, making him nod. "Te veo entonces." You kiss his cheek goodbye.

You do your best work trying to act normal. When you're on your car you let a big scream. You were excited.

It's been six years, obviously it was nerve breaking.

You hurry home, you have time to calmly change and get ready. You picked a nice outfit, nothing too casual or too formal. The perfect middle point.

You have a long everything shower. Making sure to be as smooth as possible. It's not like you're thinking about doing anything but just to be sure.

Pedri was doing basically the same thing, making sure everything is clean and nice for the night.

He even make sure his car is in neat condition, asking Fer to go to a car wash to get it ready.

"You look fine, niño." Fer reassure him again. "vete ya, or you'll be late."

"Deseame suerte."

"You don't need it, just don't fuck this up and you'll be fine." Fer laughs.

You pass around your livingroom, you boots heel making a sound with every strep. You wanted this to go well.

The doorbell made you freeze. You check mentally if everything is good. Check yourself on the little mirror before opening the door.

"Hola, guapa."

"Hola." You blush a little at the compliment. "What is this?"

He hands you the small bouquet of your favorite flower. "A little souvenir from me, to you."

You small at the little game of words, you taught him that. Every time you got him something you used to say that to him.

You like how he tries to fix the past by not making the same mistakes, he bought you flowers, like you say you wanted back then.

"Gracias, get in, I'll put them on water."

He checks your house, he can't deny that he loves your taste, always did. You have a beautiful house.

His eyes land on a specific blanket, he gifted you that on your second anniversary. He remembered that you wanted the blanket and since he was winning some money on Las Palmas. He went out and got it for you.

"You still have this?" He caresses the material. Memories of how happy you were when you got the gift.

You check what he was talking about, smiling a little when you see what he means. "I do. I love that blanket." You grab your bag and stand next to him. "Plus, I usually watch movies or take naps on the couch, so it's the perfect location."

You walk to your door, making him follow you. "I didn't think you had it still."

"That means you don't have any of the gifts I've ever given you?" You joke, knowing most of the things you gave him were clothes.

He thinks for a second, he does have a ring you gave him for his birthday, he loves that ring. Or the bracelet with an eight engraved.

"I do." he smile, he had everything you gifted him. "I have the ring you gave me when I turned eighteen."

When you walk to the car you see a black Lexus. "Where is the Porsche?" You ask as he opens the door for you.

"Had to upgrade a little bit."

You see a crazy clean car, smelling fresh. You laugh a little, he was never this clean with his car.

The drive to the place was confortable, he asked you about your past works and you asked him about football. The usual.

Dinner was fine, you did liked the place and the food. He was right about it. He even ordered dessert and acted as if the waitress had forgotten the other one just to share it with you.

"It was amazing, thank you very much." You say, turning back to face him as you reach your front door. "I had so much fun"

He steps closer to you, hands on your waist. "That means this is me winning my chance with you?"

Your breathing accelerates. His closeness is making things to you. The tip of his nose is touching yours. You nod at his question, unable to say something.

He smiles, he can tell by your accelerate breathing and the way your hands are on his arms that you don't mind him being this close.

He lay his head on your shoulder, hands on your back and thumbs caressing your sides. Your hands roam his arms. Scratching lightly.

"You have practice tomorrow." You say as you finally get some sense back into you. "And it's getting late."

"I think they will be fine without me there. I just won us the UCL."

His breathing on your neck is tempting. But you want to take things slowly, you want to take baby steps with him.

"I don't." You try to think of an excuse on why he can't stay. "I don't have an extra toothbrush."

He laughs, understanding the message. He wants to go slowly too, proving that he's not the same one who hurt you.

Plus, you are not one of his one night stands, he doesn't want you to feel like one. "Oh no! That means I have to go home." He kiss your collarbone and pull away from you.

You fix a piece of his hair, hand on his arm, securing yourself. "I like your hair like this." Your nails brush his hair. Making him close his eyes at the sensation.

"I'll come see you after training." He pulls away from you. "I really want to take you out again, I missed this."

"I would love that." You kiss his cheek goodbye. Entering you house and waving him a quick goodbye.

The whole trip home was him and his mom on the phone. He always trusted Rosy with anything, her and his father were the first people he calls when something good or bad happens.

He's mad, throwing his phone on the coffee table next to him.

He doesn't understand how people get to judge him based on things that are not related to football. On the field, he does the work. He makes sure he does assists, he even got some goals like the two of the last game.

He's good, he won't say otherwise. It took him so much effort to admit that he's as good as everybody else and saying he's not is unfair to his work and progress.

"Don't mind the things people say on the internet about you."

"I can't help it. Those random dudes on x saying things about me as if they know me."

"Their opinion don't matter." You pull him by the shoulders. He lays on top of you, hiding his face on the crock of your neck. "Don't let a random person affect your day."

You two have been seeing each other for three months, he makes sure to always go check on you after or before practice.

Always bring you something, some flowers, some coffee or a drink. Something to eat. Named it, and it'll be there.

He loves how much you two progress, and you love how much he showed you he changed, how much different he is from who he was back in the day.

"Don't go to work today, stay with me." He pouts.

You smile, nails scratching his scapl. "I have to go, either way your brother will be blowing my phone with questions and worries about every other thing."

"Block him." He jokes, knowing that Fernando was a perfectionist and wants this project to be as perfect as possible. "Seriously do." He kiss your shoulder before getting off of you.

"If I do I'll be fired." You joke back.

He makes a face. "They can't fire you. I'll get you back in." kissing your lips as he hugs your waist, head on your lap. "I don't want to do anything today."

Your fingers scratch his head, trying to calm him down. "I'll be here later, we can watch something on tv."

He nods, loving the feeling of your hands on his hair. Calming down from his frustration. He missed that, the level of confort, not needing to hide to feel intimacy, he missed feeling happy with a girl.

"I wish I could stay, but right now, I'm the one who calms your brother down when he gets perfectionist with every little detail." He understood, enjoying the feeling of being in your arms.

✨️✨️✨️

"Am I crazy or are the lights way too yellow?" Fer asks, judging every little detail he feels is wrong. "And the material, do you think is okay?"

You wanted to laugh, this was a very common thing with clients, they all freak out with the progress.

"Fernando, please don't worry. I promise this would look amazing in a few weeks when things are more placed and organized."

He nods, going to question Marc about something he thought was not right. You move to your office, wanting to organize your things.

You answer Pedri's text, and he told you he was bored and lonely without you. You laugh and answer with a picture of your messy desk.

You hear a knock on your door. "Can I come in?" When you see who it is, your eyes light up.

"Oh my God! Hello." You say happily.

"How are you, nena? I missed you."

"I've been good, working like crazy. You know me, kinda workaholic." You laugh. "How are you? How's Fernando and how's the Tasca doing?"

"We're fine, the Tasca is doing great, a lot of people. You need to go back and pay us a visit." Rosy says, taking a seat next to you. "Fer told me you were working with them, I'm so happy for you."

You love Rosy, she was like a mother to you. She took care of you when you needed it. She cooked for you, she went to your high school graduation when your family couldn't.

She was special to you, really loved her like a family, the same with Fernando. They were family.

You got away from them after the breakup, you needed space and so did Pedri. You thought that invading his space by being near his family was wrong. That's why when you were on Tenerife you didn't went out to see them.

"I am, I didn't know it was them when I got into the project. I'm happy I did. I've missed them."

You talk for a while about different topics, mostly her telling you about all the things that happened all this years.

You also told her about your years, how you ended up with this job and how it was. It was nice to have the talk you two had.

"I missed you, I miss my daughter." She confess. You smile at that. You missed them too.

"I missed you too, sorry I didn't come back to your place. I thought it was the right thing to do after the breakup."

"I get it." She grabs your hands. "Pedri also told me that you guys were trying to see if things work out again."

You smile, nodding. "We are, I feel like we both want that and I feel this is the right thing to do."

"I hope it works out for you two, I want my girl back." She hugs you.

You two talk a little more until Fer went looking for his mom. You grab your things and walk with them to the entrance. You all say goodbye to Marc, asking him to text or call you if he needs anything.

You say goodbye to them, saying that you will call Fer to meet up for lunch on another occasion.

✨️✨️✨️

"Do you want a little smoothie?" You ask Pedri as he walked downstairs. "I made a banana and strawberry one."

He nods, walking over to you. He wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your shoulder and your neck.

"I have training at two." He says in a raspy voice. "And I have to pack, will you help me, preciosa?"

You nod, passing him a glass with smoothie. You kiss his forehead and fix his hair a little. "We can work on your luggage after training. I have a meeting and I can't keep missing work." You bop his nose.

He smirks, he knows you work hard, but you have been missing some days of work thanks to him. You didn't have that much problem since they were the one who hired you, and Marc was okay with your working from home.

"I'll pick you up after practice." He smile, kissing you. "I'll get us some food and we can watch your favorite movie while you help me."

You both enjoy your smoothies, talking a little about different topics. Not caring about anything else but each others company.

He planned to ask you to go to the ceremony with him in Paris, he wanted you there, he needed you as much as his family there.

He went to practice, the technical team and his teammates organized him and Gavi a little celebration for good luck.

"I need to know what cream this dude is using because those bags under his eyes disappeared in no time." Raphinha jokes. Hugging him.

They are all in the bathroom, having a chat while getting clean and fresh to go home.

"He's using vitamin love." Ferran jokes from the bathroom. "He's a lover boy now."

They all hit Pedri's head while congratulating him about being in love. He enjoys the messing.

"Venga, this is not a crazy new." He says, fixing his hair.

"It is." Fermin says, hitting the back of his head. "You were the whore of the group and Ferran is here, take that in."

"Mira capullo, I'm a saint." Ferran yells.

"Joer', it was not that bad." He tried to justify himself.

"It was." Gavi says. "That why we are happy that you have a stable relationship. With someone you love and who loves you." Gavi hugs him. Making all the others hug him too.

After the shower chat, he left looking for some flowers, looking for some fresh food from your favorite place, your favorite dessert.

He knocks on your door. When you open, you're greeted by a big bouquet of flowers, you smile taking them from him.

"Hola." He smiles. "You look so pretty." He close the gap between you two kissing your lips. "I have our dinner in the car, ready to go?" You nod, putting your flowers in a pot before leaving with him.

Your relationship has improved, you love the effort he's making.

When you broke up, you told him he didn't have time for you, that he never gave you flowers, he never cared for you to feel like you matter to him.

He wants to change that. He wants you to feel validated, and he wants you to feel loved. Because he loves you and would change a thing about you.

"I have a little something for you." You say, picking the little box and putting it in your purse. "Let's go, guapo."

He asks about it, questioning you about the content inside the box. You told him that he has to wait until later to find out.

When you two arrive at his house, you help him with his bag. Talking about something you saw on tv the other day.

"I forgot to tell you, Gavi and Ferran say hi." He says as you walk into his room. Food in hand. "And Ferran wants to know if you can unlock him on Instagram." He laughs.

You laugh with him, promising you will do it later. You left your phone charging downstairs, so he had to wait.

"Do you know what you want to take?" You ask him, your eyes fixed on the screen as you search for your movie. "It's cold, and you have to have some outfits just in case. What if you got an outing that needs something formal?"

He nods. "I have a list on my phone of what I want to take, some cargos, a bumper jacket, the suits are being taken by Dolce."

He pulls a luggage, opening it on the bed so you can help him pick the clothes and help him with organizing.

It was a fun time. You ate while organizing and feeding him most of his food to help him some more.

"Oye." He calls your attention. "I want to speak with you about something."

You nod, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He was standing in front of you. "Tell me."

He takes a deep breath. He needs to be prepared for a bad answer in case you don't feel comfortable with the invitation.

"I want you to know that no matter what, you can say no, and I'll be okay with that." He began saying. "I want you to come with me to the ceremony." He says.

He takes a few more breaths. Trying to prepare himself for the question. "I want you to come with me and my family. I want you all there. My mom, my dad, Fer, and you." He grabs your hands. "The thing here is, I know our relationship is not established as in right now, but I want to know if you would like to come with me as my girlfriend."

You smile. Thumbs caressing his hands.

You need to talk with him before compromising yourself again.

Yes, he did progress. Yes, he did change. Yes, he was better.

But you can't swipe things under the rug. You can't be one of those who start over without making peace with the past.

"Can you sit down with me?"

He nods, taking a seat next to you. He thinks you're saying no, preparing himself for that.

"I want to talk to you." You began. "Before answering your questions, I need you to compromise with me on something."

He nods, already agreeing with whatever you want to say.

"I need you to compromise and tell me if you ever feel like what we have is bothering you. If what we do is making you question our relationship. I want you to be honest with me. To trust me and to be straightforward with how you feel and how I make you feel."

He's surprised, he thought he was getting bad news but no.

"If we are doing this again, Pepi, talk to me." You giggle. "I want your honesty, I want your opinions, I want the long run with you. But I need a compromise." You grab his hands. "I'm not getting younger, I want a family, I want someone to come home to after a long day, after a sad day or just after work. Someone to spend my weekends with watching something or reading a book. And if you can't do that or simply just don't want to. It's okay." You smile at him. "Just be honest."

He frees his hands, grabbing your cheeks and kissing you. "I promise you that I will be the most honest person you'll ever know." He smiles. "I promise that you never were a bother and never will. I want the same as you, I want everything."

You hug him tightly. Sitting on his lap as his hands roam up and down your back.

It felt right. It felt necessary.

You finally got your past to be friends with your present.

"Now about what I asked, if you could answer." He says, giggling a little.

"Yes, to everything." You kiss his lips.

"Also about the gift?" He asks, curious.

"Yeah, you'll wait more than just a few minutes." You say, caressing his cheeks. "But I'll be worthy."

✨️✨️✨️

"Do I look fat in this tuxedo?" Fer asks.

Everyone in the room takes a look at him, questioning if it was the nerves of the situation or if he was serious.

"No." His father says, he wanted to laugh but kept it.

They continue helping with getting ready, leaving soon after everything seems under control.

Pedri and you were alone, finishing with your clothes and looks for the gala. You reassure him that his tux and hair looked good.

"Amor, everything will go the way it is supposed to go." You kiss him quickly. "Trust yourself."

He nods, hugging you to calm his nerves. He can't deny that he's not feeling as confident as he says in the news or interviews.

A knock on the door makes you separate. "Pedri, ready?" His manager asks.

He nods, taking a last look of himself in the mirror. When he's about to leave, your eyes caught the glare of the little box in the nightstand.

"Wait, your gift." You say, walking to the furniture and grabbing the box to take it to him. "Open it before we leave."

You were excited for him to see what's inside. You kept it a surprise until today, knowing he would be less nervous like this.

"How?" He asks, taking the tux bow out of the box. He recognized the piece. "I thought I lost it."

You smile. The bow has a meaning for him. He bought it before leaving to play for Las Palmas. He spent a good part of his savings on it.

"You told me, before leaving the island, that this was the bow you were going to wear when you got your first ballon d'or." You help him with taking the bow he has on and putting the new one in place. "And tonight, this is happening."

He feels his eyes getting teary. He can't help but think about his little self buying the bow at the local shop.

He knew back then that no matter what, he was going to work hard to get into that nominations and into the podium.

And he did.

"Te amo." He kiss you quickly. "Ahora vamos por ese jodido balón." He laughs, making you laugh. (I love you. Now let's go get that damn ballon)

pedri

Liked by pablogavi, fcbarcelona and 3

8,566,730 others

pedri De las mejores noches de mi vida ❤️

Thank you Culers for all the love and support. Without you, this wouldn't be happening. This is not only mine but yours too ❤️

View all 2,465,739 comments

fcbarcelona Our winner 🏆❤️💙

ferrantorres grande hermano ❤️8️⃣🐐

leomessi felicidades Pedri 🐐 bienvenido al club de campeones 💪🏻

🏷: @gadriezmannsgirl @mbappe-pedri @coco6514 @coco657 @gavisfanta @jajajhaahaha @urmotheris @dessxoxsworld @girlidekanymore @lanussysworld @largavidaalsol

[taeyongdoyoung]

act three: i might kill my ex

summary: unable to sleep, you try to think of something that will finally free you from the demons of your past... characters: reader, heeseung, sunoo, sunghoon, jay, jake, jungwon (mentioned only) genre: thriller, dark romance(-ish) warnings: insomnia, trauma, prison visit, allusions to prison violence, threats, nightmares, guns, tattoos, illegal activities, breaking in, manipulation, toxic ex, cops, blood, murder (?), suicide (?), songs+scream movie references author's note: hello everyone! the title is inspired by the scream movies and this awesome song, once again this can be triggering for some so read at your own discretion! 💙 also, this is the final part of my scream trilogy, check out the other parts if you're interested: part one & part two word count: 3k

Another sleepless night. Even though Sunoo is in prison and you now live with Heeseung as his place is better protected from breaking and entering, the mere thought of Sunghoon roaming around freely is enough to make every second of your existence a living hell. You wish the cops would take your testimony more seriously but the lack of fingerprints works magically in his favour.

You feel like a burden to your boyfriend. You follow him around like a lovesick puppy everywhere - to his work, to the gym, to the supermarket. You don't dare leave his side for fear that the second you do, something bad will happen and Sunghoon will be back and take you again. You hate being like this. You ask Heeseung multiple times if he's really okay with you being clingy and he patiently answers each time that your well-being is the most important to him and that he seriously doesn't mind you being around him all the time.

But you do. So you try to take baby steps. The first one being something you've been planning to do for a while. And finally gathered the courage to do. Visit Sunoo in prison.

"Are you sure it's a good idea?" Heeseung asks cautiously, gripping your hands.

"I can do it. There will be guards and cameras and stuff, I will be safe," you promise.

"No, I'm aware you'll be physically safe but are you sure you're ready for this? I'm talking about the mental aspects of it..."

You nod, thinking about how lucky you are to have such a considerate, warm boyfriend.

"I think I'm ready. I don't wanna be your shadow all the time. I gotta learn how to be my own person again. I figured this was a good a place to start as any."

"You're very ambitious, but okay. You know I love it that you're next to me, right? I feel safer myself when I can see you," Heeseung murmurs reassuringly.

"I know, I know," you repeat, giving him a hug. "But I gotta do this for myself."

"I trust you," your sweet boyfriend replies.

This. This is why Heeseung will always be your choice. The fact he sticks by your side and trusts you unconditionally is something Sunghoon could never achieve.

When the hours for visitation arrive, you are all nerves. Gone is the confident you that was sooo sure she could do this by herself. But you have to be stronger. So, you face your former best friend.

"Hi, Sunnie," you greet him calmly.

"N-noona, you c-came to see me," Sunoo's eyes are watery with emotion and he looks a little battered. Oh God. You don't want to imagine how hard prison life is on him. He looks so pitiful and small. But then, you remind yourself of the reality. He betrayed you and helped Sunghoon kidnap you. He's just facing the consequences for his own actions. But still...You can't help but feel a surge of sympathy for him.

"Of course I came. You're my best friend, right?"

"I don't deserve to be your best friend," Sunoo shakes his head. Good. At least he's aware of it.

"You're right, you don't," you say coldly. "And I might be an idiot but I still don't. So I'll give you an offer. Ask for a retrial, tell the truth about Sunghoon, tell them he forced you to help him and you'll get a lower sentence. From five to three years. And I'll consider forgiving you."

"I can't do that, Y/Nnie," Sunoo shakes his head.

"He will never love you. I know it, you know it, we all know it."

"It's not about that anymore. If I tell on him, he's gonna kill me," Sunoo whispers, terrified.

"Did he threaten you?"

Sunoo nods, looking around as if to make sure no one else saw or heard.

"Fucking hell, Sunoo, then all the more reason for you to testify against him! So the cops will take action and capture him."

"Easy for you to say. He could send money to some of the prisoners and I could end up dying in here."

"Well, you might die in here but I might die out there, have you ever thought about that?" you exclaim angrily.

"He won't kill you."

"You can't know that," you strongly disagree. "Just think about it, okay? You might be saving two lives by telling the truth."

Sunoo sighs deeply.

"I'll sleep on it, alright. How have you been, though?"

"Oh, suddenly he cares! I'm holding up, I guess. I can't exactly erase the traumatic memories of being kidnapped by my best friend and my ex."

"I'm sorry. I mean it," Sunoo says sincerely. And maybe he really does mean it.

Because three days later you receive a call from the police that Sunoo has asked for a retrial and he testified against Sunghoon, telling the whole truth. Even with no fingerprints, his statement, along with yours, holds more power now. And the police will start investigating further and looking for Sunghoon. That's some progress, at least.

But it's not enough. You still have a hard time falling asleep. 2-3 hours per night tops. And whenever you do sleep, you are haunted by terrifying nightmares and traumatic memories. It can't go on like this. You need something more. Something to help you feel safe.

"I need to ask you for a huge favour," you talk to Heeseung one afternoon.

"Oh?"

"It's illegal," you mention the seriousness of it.

"OH?" Heeseung is in shock.

"I need you to help me get a gun."

"Babe, what? You're not gonna do anything stupid, right?"

"Stupid is my middle name. No, but seriously. I just think I'll feel safer if I have it. For like...potential self-defense. If you know who manages to get to me. If I happen to be alone."

Heeseung shakes his head fearfully.

"I don't want to leave you alone," he insists.

"You're not my babysitter, Hee. Sooner or later, it'll happen. And I just wanna be prepared. A precaution, nothing more. I'm not planning to actively look for him," the way you say the last word is full of bitterness and anger. "But if he comes, I'll be ready."

"Okay, um," Heeseung replies reluctantly. "I have this American friend. His name's Jay, he's a total sweetheart but he might be able to hook you up with a gun. You know, just for self-defense purposes."

"Sounds perfect. Thanks so much, Hee," you squeeze his hand, already looking forward to it. Maybe that will help you sleep better at night.

You meet Heeseung's friend Jay at a lowkey shady looking place that is a tattoo parlour. Jay himself has lots of tattoos of eagles and ravens and cats. Damn, you might consider getting a tattoo yourself one day. If you survive this shithole that has been the past few months.

"Nice to meet you," you shake his hand.

"Likewise," Jay responds firmly. "Heeseung talks about you like all the time."

"That's weird 'cause I only found out about you recently," you reply, honest to a fault.

"Ouch. I don't blame him, though. If my girlfriend was so beautiful, I wouldn't want her to meet any of my friends," Jay jokes.

"I'm flattered but uh-"

"Relax, sweetheart. I have a boyfriend. And even if I didn't, you're not my type."

"Point taken," you shake your head in amusement. "So, I can get the story behind the eagles but what's with the cats?" you ask curiously, pointing at his tattoos.

"They're meant to represent my love for my cat-like boyfriend Jungwon. He's a real cutie. I feel like you two would really get along. We should go on a double date sometime!"

"That's kinda weird but in an adorable way," you chuckle. "And I'm game for the double date thing."

"So, let's get down to business."

"To defeat the Huns?" you finish the thought.

Jay eyes you strangely. Okay, not a Mulan fan but has tons of cat tattoos. You can get past that.

"Hee told me you want a gun?"

"Um, yeah. As a precaution. For potential self-defense against my shitty ex who kidnapped me."

"Do you have any preference in mind? In terms of weight or design?"

"I don't know anything about that. Whatever you recommend is good. Just something that will help me sleep comfortably, I guess."

"I have a couple of options, I'll let you try them out. There's also a shooting range underneath the tattoo parlour. I'll show you a couple of tricks, just in case."

"That sounds amazing," you reply enthusiastically. "It's more than I could ask for. Seriously, thanks!"

"Anything for my friend's girlfriend," Jay shrugs as if it's not a big deal.

After trying out a couple of guns and Jay showing you the ropes of shooting, you feel more confident and pick the weapon that speaks to you the most.

"This one," you whisper, enthralled by how light and yet powerful it feels.

"Good choice," Jay hums approvingly. "Well, I hope this whole situation ends for you soon and stay safe."

"Thank you for everything."

"Don't forget about that double date!"

"I won't," you promise and you hope that happy day comes sooner rather than never.

Time passes and there is no trace of Sunghoon. As if he was a ghost you imagined. But you know better. You know he's out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Let him come. You're ready now.

Heeseung receives an amazing job opportunity that would entail him going abroad for one week. You encourage him to take it. He's really worried about leaving you alone. But you know you can handle this.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep, I'll be fine, don't worry."

"What will you do if something bad happens?"

"I'll call you or your cop friend Jake or your lowkey sus friend Jay."

"Good girl," Heeseung praises you and kisses you gently. "And if your phone isn't nearby for some reason?"

"I'll use the gun only in self-defense."

"Right. Um, I love you, baby," Heeseung hugs you tightly.

"Love you too, Hee."

"Be back soon," he promises.

"You better," you smile.

Night comes and you are more uneasy than ever. You have been sleeping better lately with Heeseung by your side and the gun under your pillow. What has become of your life?

You make peace with the fact you probably won't get much sleep during the following week. It's okay. You'll get to sleep forever one day. But not today, Satan.

And then, speak of the devil, you hear it. A sound you know all too well. A door being attacked. But this time, he doesn't have a key. And uses something that is perhaps a bobby pin. He is slower. And you are fast. Your right hand is on your gun in no time and your left hand is on your phone. It might not even be him, but you don't care. Heeseung must be on the plane right now since he doesn't pick up so you call his cop friend Jake.

"Hi, Y/N, is everything okay?" he picks up immediately.

"Hi, Jake, someone is trying to enter Heeseung's place right now. I mean...our place."

"Oh my God, I'll assemble a squad and we're on our way! Don't do anything stupid!" Jake advises you. Heeseung might have told him you own a gun now. Oh well. You know Heeseung trusts Jake so you probably won't get in trouble with the police.

"I'll try," you chuckle and hang up. You send a quick text to Jay, informing him of the circumstances and just as you hit send, the door clicks.

He's in.

"Hi, princess," Sunghoon greets you. Oh, he looks so angry he hasn't seen you in ages. Good. Anger is good.

"Stay back," you warn him warily, pointing the gun at him.

"Aw, you're not happy to see me?" Sunghoon pouts in disappointment.

"You look like shit, Sunghoon," you hiss.

"Gee, thanks. You're as beautiful as ever," he compliments you.

"I know," you say even though you don't feel beautiful. You have dark circles under your eyes, your hair is greying from all the stress and your mental health has never been worse. But you're still here, fighting against all odds.

"Come back to me, Y/N," Sunghoon begs, straight to the point.

"Never," you shake your head with determination, tears clouding your vision. Fuck, you hate that you still get so emotional when facing him. It's a weakness that might be your downfall. But you won't let it.

"Were you pretending when you said you can learn to love me again?"

"I could never love you," you admit honestly. "And neither can you."

"N-no, that's not true," Sunghoon argues. "Just come with me, please. No one has to get hurt. Not Heeseung, not Sunoo. Just us two and everyone you care about will be safe."

Heeseung's on a plane right now. Sunoo's in prison. As much as your heart is telling you that Sunghoon could really hurt them, your mind is aware that he no longer has any power. The power is in your hands right now. Jake and the cops are on their way. But they'll be too slow.

"Well, that's too bad, 'cause I only ever cared about myself," you smirk coldly.

"You don't. You're full of love and light and warmth," Sunghoon insists blindly.

"Not anymore. You took them from me. I'd ask you to give them back but I don't think you can," you say openly. You don't even believe half of what you're saying. But that doesn't matter. You just have to make him believe it.

Sunghoon pulls out his own gun, pointing it at you. A mirror image. Did you make him worse? Or did he make you worse? You don't know. And you no longer care.

"Well, if I can't have you, no one will," Sunghoon glares at you.

"Not in my movie!" you scream.

You genuinely cannot tell who fires the gun first.

You can only hope it's you.

The End

author's note: if you like open endings, you may stop reading here. if you don't like them and are not satisfied with the uncertainty, keep reading for three possible endings i have in my head 🖤

Ending One: I hope you die first

Your whole body is shaking and your hands are covered in blood.

It's over. Sunghoon's dead. You really killed him. You can't believe it.

As you hear the police sirens surrounding you, you suddenly feel dizzy.

When the time for a trial comes, the court rules it was in self-defense. Considering how Sunghoon stalked and kidnapped you, the law is lenient towards you and you get away with a fine for owning an illegal gun. Well, having a cop friend also helps.

You spend the rest of your days surrounded by people you care about. Heeseung is always by your side, supporting you through everything. You can't imagine making it this far without him. And Sunoo serves his three years in prison. Once he's out of jail, he makes it his mission to make you forgive him. Slowly, he creeps back into your life. And you let him. Somehow time has eased the hurt from the betrayal.

There are happy moments, there are sad moments and then there are the moments when you just feel empty.

But the guilt and pain stay with you. Your forever companions. Sure, you are free from Sunghoon. But you can never be free from yourself.

Ending Two: I See Red

Sunghoon drops on his knees the moment he realizes what he's done. Fuck. You're gone. He killed you. The one and only being he truly loved. Or deluded himself into thinking he loves you. Perhaps you were right. Perhaps he wasn't even capable of it.

With no reason left to go on, he points the gun at himself, pulling the trigger. Maybe in another life, he'll do better. Maybe you'll meet again.

The cops and Jake at the crime scene they're immediately struck by the sight of the two bodies. Sunghoon's hand is reaching towards yours but your face is turned to the other direction. Even in death, you don't want to look at him. Alas, they came too late.

When Heeseung learns of your death, he is completely devastated and heartbroken. Miles and miles away, he cannot even get to your funeral on time. At first, he contemplates doing what your ex did to himself. But he knows you wouldn't want that from him.

So, he spends the rest of his life trying to help victims of abuse or kidnappings, aiding the police whatever way he can and organizing therapy sessions. It's not much, but he'd like to believe he's making a difference.

As time passes, the pain is still there, but diminishes in magnitude. Heeseung eventually finds comfort and love in the arms of his friend Jake. But a part of his heart stays there with you, in that cursed night.

Ending Three: Scream cause we wanna go faster

Both guns fire at roughly the same time. Both you and Sunghoon apparently suck at aiming them. You manage to injure each other, but nothing lethal. Seconds later, the police arrive, apprehending Sunghoon. The medics show up soon after and take care of you.

Sunghoon gets a life sentence for stalking, kidnapping and attempted murder. You don't visit him. Not even once. You don't want to see him, not even to gloat. That chapter of your book is over. Your only wish is to put it behind you for good.

Heeseung finds out about what happened right as his plane lands and he wants to return as soon as possible but you tell him to finish his work and then come back to you. Now, you will have all the time in the world.

"Welcome back, Hee," you greet him at the airport once he returns.

"My God, darling, I'm so glad you're okay," your boyfriend hugs you tightly, not wanting to let go ever again.

"Of course, I'm okay. I promised Jay we'd go on a double date with him and Jungwon, didn't I? And I always keep my promises," you tease.

"Damn right, you do," Heeseung laughs. "But seriously, just thinking about what might have happened, I feel sick."

"Well, let's just be glad it didn't," you kiss him deeply.

In another universe, maybe you're dead. In a different world, maybe Sunghoon died.

But this is your world. Your movie. And you just pressed play.

The End (for real this time)

[fallingfor-fics]

Greed- Agatha Harkness x Reader

Im so excited for HOH!! here is a short angsty one inspired by a song, you get a virtual kiss if you guess it.

Warnings: none, angst

Word Count: 1k

Summary: You arent gonns stick around while Agatha fights Wanda.

“I don't think you are hearing what I am saying.” Agatha let out in a huff, shaking her head and looking away. You weren’t getting anywhere in this conversation and you were ready to just give up. 

“Fine. If you want to keep fucking with this town, and her be my guest but im getting the fuck out of here. I'm not going to sit and beg you any longer.” You scoffed and stood up from the couch, heading upstairs to collect your things.

“Y/n wait.” Agatha yelled after, following you up the stairs, but you didn't respond and just reached for your luggage. “I don't have a choice. I have to stop her.” she said with her voice slightly strained.

“But you aren't trying to stop her, Agatha!” You snapped, raising your voice slightly as you turned to look at her, “you are trying to take her power for yourself.” you shook your head and her brows furrowed as her upper lip twitched.

“What? I don't-'' she started but she quickly read your expression and sighed, “she wont know how to handle that power, but I do know how, i'm the only person that can do this.” You knew how powerful Agatha was, but you always believed you were somewhat equals, she was only a few hundred years older than you, but you had mastered your craft. 

You looked at her with displeasure and she sighed. “I didn't mean it like that Y/n.”

“I'm going. Find me if you make it out of this.” You sighed, turning to use a spell to finish your packing.

“Baby please just trust me.” Agatha came to stand closer, her hands resting on your waist, she turned you to face her, and she rested her forehead on yours. You closed your eyes and sighed, a knot forming in your throat. 

“I love you Agatha…but I have worked too hard and gone through too much shit, to die this way.” you stated and moved away from her to grab some other items. 

“God, Y/n I need you to fucking listen to me for once. It will be fine, no one will die, it won't change anything. I need you here by my side.” she begged and you could tell she was being genuine. However you knew she was wrong, things would be so different. 

“And I need you to learn to get over yourself” you let out softly but with a firm tone as you turned to look at her. She scoffed and crossed her arms, shaking her head as she looked at you, “You are obsessed with Wanda. You are upset that she was chosen to be the scarlet witch, and now you want the power for yourself. Because God forbid there be someone who is more powerful than you. Well news flash, there is a whole league of them nowadays. So quit trying to be someone you're not.” You finished, your face red and your lungs out of breath from your tangent. Agatha let out a cackle before stepping closer to you. 

“I could take out any one of those unitard-wearing, lab rat, mother fuckers, Y/n. Just like I can take out Wanda. Just like I could take out.. You.” she said with a harsh tone, her words started to come out fast and by the end of her response she had started to get more angry. Her words were fighting to get out as she clenched her fist and pointed a finger at you. Your jaw dropped slightly and you scoffed. 

“You know what Agatha, you better hope Wanda kills you. ‘Cause if you survive, and you let this power consume you, which we know you will, I will come and kill you myself just to prove you wrong.” You looked at her with cold eyes as the venomous words left your lips. You stepped back in realization of what you had said. Shock filled your veins but you were more alarmed by the fact you really meant what you had just said. Agatha just looked at you. You observed her face so hard, the face you had memorized, the face you had seen everyday for so many years. No matter how long you looked or how hard you searched for signs, you couldn't read her expression, you couldn't read her. 

After a few moments you felt your cheeks burn and a knot form in your throat. Agatha stood still, her eyes not leaving yours as she sat pondering, trying to decide what to do, what to say to convince you to stay. She didn't care that you had just said what you had said. She wasn't surprised by these reactions. What surprised her was the level of stubbornness you were showing. Agatha loved you for many reasons, but one of them was loving you for how much you loved her. She had you around her finger and she loved it because you loved it too. She loved being demanding and you loved obeying. People always wanted stuff from her and would never give back, but you, there wasn't anything you wouldn't do for her. 

Except this. 

“Y/n, Please. I need you to just try to understand, are you really going to throw our whole life away because I want something?” She stopped, getting closer to you and cupping your face, you instinctively relaxed your face into her hands. She pulled you in for a kiss and you didnt fight it. She kissed softly, her smooth lips moving against yours as you kissed back, unable to resist her. There was a soft and pure love in that kiss and when you realized you pulled away softly, looking down with a frown, her hands still on your cheeks. She shook her head with a laugh. 

“I mean everyone has something they want, baby.” she quipped as her voice grew louder. You felt tears finally fill your eyes and you let out a shaky sigh, looking at her with sad eyes as you backed away from her grasp. 

Choking through your dry throat you spoke softly as you looked at her with love and pity. “I just wanted you, Agatha.” Yousaid simply and turned to head downstairs, collecting your things and loading them into your car. You left before she could say another word, and watched your rearview as you drove away, waiting to see her but all you saw was the empty road.

--

slay that was fun to write

someone should take this idea and make a full fic for it and credit and tag me bc this plot would destroy me

[hestzhyen]

Leap of (Lack of) Faith

There's some discourse about Hakuri's suicide attempt in chapter 24 going around on Twitter that got me thinking. Well, actually, I just want to share my own pointless take. Yeah, I genuinely want to be perceived for once. But I hate trying to communicate in 240-character snippets on that hellsite, so I'll post here to rot in obscurity where I'm most comfortable.

Basically, there was a post in the Kagurabachi Twitter community that requested to talk about the abuse flashback-jump sequence. And yeah, uh, I'm kind of surprised at how little it gets brought up too. To quote myself:

Please don't ask me why I have three different usernames- there's no satisfying answer.

It's been a while since chapter 24 happened, so let's recap the lead up to this important moment. We first see Hakuri in Ch. 19 with his drink spilling out of his mouth, putting his inner monologue about "hav[ing] to grit your teeth and push through" to the lie. The very first shot of him, the very first food metaphor we see with him, is Hakuri being unable to cope. We don't know why he lost his his family, but he's clearly alone and not doing well. He's struggling.

Next thing we see is him being coincidentally saved by Chihiro. We get a full page of him narrating his impression of the moment, showing us the contrast between his desire to do some unspecified "job" and his fatalistic frame of mind. Then we learn he's weak as hell even though his heart's in the right place. He saves a little girl and insists on being taken back to the Yakuza's hideout, leading him to get kicked around and beaten up. He's a bloody, scribbly-eyed mess by the time he meets Chihiro for real. And this is exactly how we are supposed to see him until the moment he jumps in chapter 24.

It's so, so easy to overlook the hints towards Hakuri's painful past due to the way he's written. Most of his actions and dialogue are framed in a comedic way to bounce off of Chihiro's stoicism. Hakuri's pessimistic inner monologues when he's being hurt or nearly killed are right at home in this demographic too- wimps start at their lowest to leave lots of room to grow. And Shounen series always have a weak, lonely kid who's inspired to become strong. It's extremely standard stuff. But this moment right here was probably the biggest, most blatant hint that he's got more to his circumstances than the average zero-to-hero character:

That tiny little panel of him casually smearing the blood from his nose while he talks to Chihiro lives rent-free in my head. It's a throwaway motion in the moment, and not really out of place in an ultra-violent series like Kagurabachi. But compare that to how Azami -a professional combat sorcerer and war veteran!- screamed when he realized his hand was sliced in chapter 7, or how Chihiro is often shown wincing and having to adjust to his injuries. These characters definitely feel the hits that land on them. But the most hilariously pathetic character yet acts like the beat-down he received never happened. Nor like he's surrounded by bloody corpses. Hakuri is not only used to violence, he's used to it experiencing it.

Again, this is all framed in a comedic way due to his over-the-top personality and expressions. He's a freakish mess on the floor after taking the hit from Hiyuki, sobs in a silly way over Chihiro's backstory, is called "weak" and "a moron" and "a mess" by other characters, on and on. Hakuri's not written like he's supposed to be taken seriously after the first few pages we see of him.

The only other moments of foreshadowing came in chapter 23 as a set of blink-and-you'll miss panels and the last scene:

Hakuri's clenched, shaking fist when he talks about his "scary" older siblings isn't a huge tell. Neither is the insistence that they'd kill him on sight. We can comfortably assume that he's afraid of the consequences of betraying his powerful family despite being a weakling- that's where most authors would have gone with this scenario. But then why does his big brother Soya look so happy to see him? Was Hakuri over-reacting again when he talked about his family? Something's off here, but it's impossible to say exactly what.

The next chapter starts. Chihiro and Shiba are facing off against the Tou and it's looking tense. Chihiro flashes back to his dad talking about the Shinuchi, the fight's about to begin- but it cuts to Soya being a pretty normal person who misses his little brother.

And then we see this.

Suddenly a whole new and very serious dimension is added to Hakuri's character. He's not a goofy weakling that's going to improve himself with some determination and a training arc: he's a victim of abuse. This is the signal that the Sazanamis are truly fucked up more than we know, setting the stage for the major themes of the Rakuzaichi arc. And it makes re-reading those little bits of foreshadowing so much more painful.

This scene is the "oh shit" equivalent of Chihiro finding Char's severed leg in the car- yeah, the author really went there. And it's not even the last time we'll get a moment like this for Hakuri. The Ice Lady chapter is rightly remembered for it's impact, but Hakuri choosing to commit suicide should be held up alongside it IMO. Again: the author really went there, and not just for the shock value.

This moment should be remembered far more often than it is. It was the pivot from Hakuri being a generic potential sidekick into a complex and fully-realized character. Hakuri found people who could help him. Who treated him kindly. Who inspired him. But he chose death in an instant when his past came back to haunt him. Despite his improved circumstances, he had no hope for the future. He only felt fear and the urge to escape from looming torment.

Looking at what we know up to this chapter alone... how can you not feel for him? This goofy, ridiculous mess of a boy is really truly hurting and probably has been for years. But like many victims, he downplays and doesn't talk about it. He just tries to escape via whatever means he can.

So it burns me up that people are still reducing him to Chihiro's silly sidekick. If this scene was somehow not enough to dispel that notion, consider that Chihiro probably doesn't know that Hakuri had all those tools used on him, much less anything about Ice Lady. He knows that Hakuri was regularly ganged up on and beaten, and probably could infer that Kyoura deliberately looked away. But we haven't seen Hakuri talk about in detail about how "someone set him on the right path", nor mention taking a flying leap, nor share what's in his storehouse. He's still got a hell of a lot of literal and metaphorical pain he keeps inside. In the right circumstances, Hakuri could jump again.

Talk about this scene more often! REMEMBER it more often!

[skazoo]

slow and blue and endless.

↳ kim taehyung x f!reader

someone stared at you through the window. you had always felt safe in your own home, shutting out the scary, real world. but a window is just glass, and glass… oh it breaks so, so easily.

length. 1.7k

genre. angst, yandere

warnings/tags. language, obsessive behavior, implied stalking, yandere themes, mind break, emotional manipulation, love bombing(?), mention of mental illnesses, physical violence, kinda gruesome allusion to murder, dark themes overall, minors advised to dni.

networks. none for this.

notes. [THIS IS A REPOST BC TUMBLR TAGS WON'T WORK AND I ALMOST CRIED<;3]

GAH these photos are so 80s serial killer making a creepy videotape that's gonna get edited in a true crime documentary coded...... i know you're seeing my vision, i KNOW it.... anywayyyyyy this is kinda not proofread, and i wrote it while i was supposed to be studying for my exams a while back!! because when am i inspired if not when i shouldn't be?? i hope you like it and i swear something is almost ready for me to publish please wait a little longer (for my engenes and atiny besties)

⚠️ it goes without saying that i in no way condone any obsessive/stalking/creepy/violent behavior and despite this being "x reader" i'm not in any way romanticizing anything i'm writing. also this, as you all know, is fiction and names are merely a narrating mean. ⚠️

i'm desperate for feedback and i love comments with your opinion!

(cross-posted on ao3 only)

navigation

in a way you’ve always loved him. he knows. you don’t even have to say it out loud for him to be happy. 

but sometimes it feels like you take him for granted. sometimes you make him really, really angry and that, he can’t let pass. and it's not for his sake but for yours. always everything for you. he has to make you understand that there are things you can’t do if you want to stay safe from the outside world. safe from him, sometimes.

running away is one of those ugly, wretched things you know well he hates, and he slams you against the wall and drags you back through the front door into the house by your hair, he bashes your head on the kitchen counter, near the fire of the stove he’s been preparing lunch with to make you understand a concept you're apparently too dumb to grasp.

“what the fuck did i tell you about running, uh?” seething with undiluted rage .

“i just wanted to go outside, tae. i swear!”

“i said what the fuck did i tell you about running!? do you understand how much it would hurt me to see you go?!” his voice booms inside the walls of your head, an endless echo that makes bitter tears gather at the back of your eyes and spill over.

your face is burning. tongues of fire lick at your cheeks, a scorching caress that reminds you of taehyung's. his palm always leaves a brand behind, reminding him and yourself that he’s there. 

your hands scramble for his in a miserable attempt to lessen his hold. “i’m sorry, tae! so sorry, please! please!”

his closed fist in your hair pushes your head closer to the heat. “i’ll fucking kill you if i have to, you know that right–” it’s not a question, merely a promise, but you nod anyway, frantically, desperately– “they’ll never stop finding your body, baby. do you understand?” he screams and shakes you with his hands tight in your hair when you only cry in response.

“i said,” leaning in, mouth brushing over your ear. chills go down your back as his voice turns sickeningly mellow as if he’s whispering sweet nothings instead of threats, “do you understand?”

“yes! yes! god, yes i understand! tae, i’m so sorry! it’s all my fault! it’s all my fault!”

your mindless babbles seem to humor him and he moves your head at a safer distance. “and why is that?”

“ ‘twas my fault! i put myself in danger if i run. tae, please! i’m so sorry!” 

and you cry and cry and cry until you have nothing to give. until there’s only emptiness in your head that’s resting on his shoulder. until his shushes really feel reassuring. until he sits you down at the table to eat the lunch he prepared, the one that was so close to killing you. you nibble on it, too weak to really even taste the flavors.

he breaks the empty silence between you with a question. you startle at the sound of his voice and force your heavy eyes to focus on him.

“aren't you curious? about why i chose you?”

“no.”

he scrunches his eyebrows and regards you with a slightly displeased look that has you shrinking back on your chair. 

“but i want to tell you…” he whines.

you don’t say anything about his antics. despite him behaving like a child you’re terrified of what his reaction would be if you actually treated him like one, so you press your lips together and wait. 

“i like people that like me.” and it’s so simple how he says it. obvious, even.

“but why do you think i like you?” quietly, meekly.

he seems to like the question, his boxy smile one full of teeth that in other circumstances you would have found endearing. now it only makes him look like a predator, an animal, drool dribbling down his fangs, jaw ready to snap close around your neck if —and ultimately, when— you say or do the wrong thing. 

“oh, i was so happy, Y/N,” he coos, your name curling in his mouth with ease, as if you’re always been around each other, as if it belongs there, “that when i chose you, you came with me.”

your mouth gapes open at the absurdity of it all. you wonder if he really thinks that you wanted all of this, that you wanted to be taken from your home. you’d ask your old psychology professor if you’d be correct to label him as a narcissist of sorts. a man with too much power, and free time, and loneliness to exhaust all on himself that he had to go around looking for a scapegoat for his secret misery.  

“i didn’t– i didn’t come to you, taehyung. i didn’t have a choice.”

“so you were almost forced to come?”

“no,” it comes out more as a question than an answer and you lower your head in search of a way to rationalize the conversation at hand, “i was completely forced–”

“that’s what you tell yourself,” he retorts before you can even finish your sentence.

“it’s what i know is true,” you spit somewhat offended by his insinuation.  

his smile is a sick thing when you raise your head from the food on your plate —cold and uninviting. the smell alone makes you want to throw up. 

“are you sure?”

your anger leaves space for an unnerving sense of confusion. “what does that– what?”

your frown deepens as you watch him play around with his lunch. you follow his hands pushing back his glasses on his nose. the sick look of complacency that dances on his face seems to speak words that make the hairs at the back of your neck raise in dreadful anticipation. i know something about you that you don’t, his eyes say, and that alone is enough to make you want to scream.

he knows nothing!, you’d be shouting to the usually calm neighborhood, i haven’t told him anything about myself. he can’t know anything! he knows nothing! he knows nothing! you’d holler to the kids walking home from school hand in hand with their mothers who’d be looking at you with contempt, unaware of who lives among them. a wolf in sheep's clothing that could easily make you look like a psychopath. 

you’d do it, you swear to yourself that you’d do it all if it weren’t for the fact that you’ve got the inkling fear that you’ve truly gone mad. the doubt that crawls on your back and makes its way in your ears, slithering then, with much glee into your delusional brain.

how long have you been in this house? his house or the one you bought together once you finished college? did you meet him on a slow rainy day outside a coffee shop or did you catch him staring at you from the window before he broke in and took you from your bed, leaving behind torn sheets and a broken frame with a picture of your friends? does your mind deceive you? are you sane? is he?

it feels like you've had this exact same conversation with him an infinite number of times, always stuck in a loop of unease and sadness that you really can’t explain. loving looks sent your way melt into scary grimaces sometimes and all you can feel is guilt because that’s tae. your tae. the man you chose, the man that chose you.

you realize your vacant eyes are crying when you feel a thumb swipe your cheek with a gentleness that makes your stomach churn in disgust and again a voice tells you that there’s something wrong with you.

“baby, are you alright?”

the way you look at him does nothing to the sick warmth brewing in his stomach. your shiny little doe eyes peeking up at him from under wet lashes, asking for forgiveness that taehyung would never deny you. nose red from the frustration of being lost in your own mind and mouth parted as if to ask him to show you the way, the truth that you seem to have lost.

he stands up and rounds the table to you for you to bury your head in his chest. sobs shake your tired form.

“shh, it’s okay, baby. i swear everything it’s okay. it happens to forget.”

“i’m sorry, tae,” you plead through broken breaths. “i’m so sorry, please.”

he shushes you. lips plant themselves in the crown of your head, a hand rubs at your back soothingly.  

later, in the late evening, you lie in your bed. a bed. the sheets smell of him and the air you breathe does not feel like the one you're used to, but you’re calm. you think you are. maybe.

soft snores sound from behind you and you attempt to turn your head to make sure it’s him. 

“tae?” you let out a whisper. not one that expects itself to be heard.

“yeah?” voice hoarse from sleep.

“nothing.”

he buries his nose in the hair at the nape of your neck, inhaling the shampoo he bought for you. “what?”

“just wanted to make sure you were still here.”

“i’m always here, baby.”

you hum.

minutes pass slowly, like molasses, as if the hand of the seconds inside the alarm on your nightstand is fighting an invisible force, a wall of rubber that threatens to bounce time back. you think he’s fallen back asleep. breath slowing, chest heaving, lulling you to slumber.

you close your eyes. “tae?”

he doesn’t answer. a car alarm sounds from outside the closed curtains, its prolonged blaring bringing a certain agitation in your otherwise silent night. a breath of summer wind leaves bumps on your skin in its wake. you sigh and his arms tighten around your torso. an unconscious gesture, soft, loving.

“i dream of you–” you let your words sink into the air, into the boiling water you carry around in your lungs that doesn’t let you breathe properly, and you shiver again but not from the chill bite of the wind “–and it’s slow, and blue, and endless.”

behind you, taehyung’s mouth stretches into a smile.

in a way, you’ve always loved him. he’s certain of it now as he was before. and even if you didn’t, he will always make sure to make it a reality, one way or the other. wether you want it or not.

taglist: @taevestr @fa1ryjoons @vcutvante

[the-owl-tree]

oh my GOD I love your isekai warriors au.... I love that the isekai trope is becoming a lot more popular, especially in anime... please tell me more about it!!

shaking ur hand rn hello fellow isekai anime/other mediums fan :3c FIRST lemme go on my tangent about this genre and my main inspo because wow this got way too long lol

isekai is total comfort food for me haha it's my go to genre of manga/manwha/webcomic reading whenever i'm feeling down and while i generally feel the genre is getting bloated and somewhat stale in anime, i still enjoy it quite a bit. It's a cute idea with a lot of potential, i just wish less of the shows went for the wish fulfillment route of things since we have so many by now.

mine is very inspired by a lot of korean manwha style stories in which the protag gets trapped in a show/game/book/etc. and has to deal with it, specifically what if you became the villain of a story. A lot of them play off the trope of the one dimensional evil villainess and how an average person would have to deal with coming into the body of someone like that and dealing with consequences. That, or it's the tragic villain, someone's who's life is marred by tragedy usually of their own doing.

The most interesting ones are those that play on how character archetypes would actually work in the story. The cold bad boy is just a shitty abusive guy, the shy guy who follows the girl is kind of a stalker, and so on.

One of my bigger inspirations was a plotline that also stuck out to me: a teen girl who died too soon and got reincarnated as the mother of the protagonist. obviously she has no clue what to do, she's a kid who wants to go home! And the only way she thinks she can is by ensuring the story goes as planned (and this of course is doomed from the start, unbeknownst to her, the villain is a reincarnater too and has already made tremendous changes). She dies and the reader never knows if she gets to go home or not. It's kind of this rough around the edges gem of an idea that I love and obviously had to steal for myself.

note for anyone getting intrigued by my descriptions uh a lot of these stories tend to be pretty shallow in their exploration. this subgenre consists a lot more of wish fulfillment/revenge fantasies comparatively to like a deep dive of "oh my god i've fucked up the narrative". Not to say they don't have interesting ideas! many are super interesting. just like. temper your expectations if you're going in

originally the story was gonna be set in a canon arc but that felt boring so i decided to just make up a whole story for it

The story is meant to be a (loving) poke at old fanfiction, common tropes in the aforementioned subgenre of isekai, and just a general ""cliche"" Warriors series (in the human universe here, I figured it's call Battlers/Battle Cats or something stupid lmao). In this story, Frostblaze is born into [ONE OF THE FOUR FAKE CLANS I HAVENT FIGURED OUT NAMES YET IM SORRY]. She's the born to an unnamed mother who tragically died of illness when she was just a young baby and has no clue who her father is.

She's isolated from her peers due to her eyes which some believe are an omen of her unnaturality. This only worsens when she is apprenticed to their Clan leader and causes Honeypaw, the daughter of the Clan leader, to become enraged with jealousy. She is one of Frostpaw's worst tormentors in the early parts of the book and eventually, during a battle, tries to off Frostpaw herself....but is killed by Frostpaw's love interest, the dashing and handsome (if a bit stupid) Eaglepaw of [INSERT RIVAL CLAN HERE].

The two hit it off (Honeypaw is an after thought at this point) and work together to stop the eeevviilll leader of uuhh eviiiiilll clan. They win, live happily ever after, Frost is actually their Clan leader's daughter and Honeypaw is her half-sister and blah blah blah.

At least, they're supposed to. Honeypaw, out hunting, is hit by a truck at the same time a human is. Human wakes up as a cat about to be buried because everyone thinks Honeypaw is dead and freaks the fuck out.

A lot of the plot points are kind of just me working through my gripes of the subgenre lmao:

"the person who is reincarnated is more adept and cool and better than their character and everyone loves them" -> Honey is awkward, neurotic, and can come off as rude to those who don't know her. Even her coolest trait, her wrestling ability, is off-putting because oh my god why are you putting a cAT IN A SPIDER GUARD THEIR SPINES DON'T BEND LIKE THAT HONEY PUT HIM BACK TO NORMAL-

She reread the story before she died but, because she has no pen, no paper, and sadly of all, no thumbs, she's unable to write it down to keep remembering it when she gets sent to this world. It's awful and she desperately wishes she had thumbs back.

she stands on two legs, makes weird comments alluding to being a human, and just is a bit of a weirdo. Honeypaw was isolated for being mean, Honey is isolated for making everyone uncomfortable (unintentionally). However, her isolation allows her to slip under the radar and do some more investigating, as she's noticed that some of the details in the story aren't adding up...

The story is strange and the characters aren't as she remembers now that they're in the flesh. Of course, her main priority is to thwart Honeypaw's assassination attempts, the spirit being intent that the way to get her body back is if she dies again. It's only from a near death experience that they realize that that's not gonna work and have to work together to change the story so they don't die!

and, as many people have pieced together, they're not alone.

[bidisasterevankinard]

Inspirational Fuck-it-Saturday

I was tagged by amazing people(thank you so much💕) @honestlydarkprincess @gentoodiaz @spotsandsocks @panbuckley @ebdaydreamer @wikiangela for fuck it friday, but have smt to share only now(or better say I remembered I have this to share only now). I'm not sure if I will write more for this wip, but yes I did mood board and wrote scene which haunted me

Tagging for inspo saturday(if you want ofc💕): @elvensorceress @alyxmastershipper @the-likesofus @spotsandsocks @heartbeatdiaz @honestlydarkprincess @jobairdxx @panbuckley @transbuck @transboybuckley @911onabc @ebdaydreamer @bekkachaos @rogerzsteven @shortsighted-owl @usercowboy @bi-buck-coded @bigassdiaz @bekkachaos @wildlife4life @buckitup

‼️‼️Tw blood, kidnapping‼️‼️

Eddie can't feel anything but the smell of blood and how his shaking hands are trying to hold back the maroon liquid inside Buck's body. But there is more and more blood, and Eddie can only count the seconds when his world will turn into hell forever, because Buck …  killed himself for him.

"Why did you do that?" Eddie asks almost in a whisper, not hiding his tears. He doesn't know if he wants to know the answer, but not knowing is worse.

"It's easier to survive the death of your best friend than the death of the love of your life," Buck whispers too, and Eddie feels like his heart doesn't even break into pieces, but simply disappears from his chest. There's no way Buck said that. "And it’s unbearable  if it's one person for you. After the shooting, I promised myself that I would always do everything to keep you safe. I wouldn't be the reason Chris lost his dad," Buck swallows and Eddie sees pain in Buck's eyes unrelated to the wound in his stomach. But Buck turns away from him saying the following words. "And Marisol her fiance."

"Am I the love of your life?" Eddie's voice is shaking. 

This is not happening. No, no, no. Buck can't tell him that he loves him so much, dying for Eddie in his arms.

"Yes. I'm sorry I said that now. I obviously didn't make it any easier for you," Eddie wants to shout that Buck's death would never have been easy for him. He wants to wake up in his bed and find out that this is just the worst nightmare he's ever had. "But Eddie, at some point I'll just be a memory. And I hope you will remember me with a smile. I'm sorry I can't be at the wedding, but I'm sure Chris will be a cooler best man than me. Take care of our family, Eds. And about yourself first of all. And remember this is... my... choice," Buck says the last sentence and his eyes roll back. 

"Buck? BUCK! BUCK, COME BACK! COME ON!"

[transsexualhamlet]

16 but I want an essay on it 17 for the hannibal fic ur working on specifically and 27

hellooooo seb seb seb :)

ask game - writing wrapped

16. Who was your favorite character to write?

I think for this year it has to be between Nikolai and Party Poison? Somehow they are both the same brand and fucking opposite characters. I think it mostly comes down to their environment because at their core they have that same balance of hyperactivity, immaturity, and thrill seeking violence seeking bullshit that hides the underbelly of "this 20 something is already so fucking disillusioned with life that they are on the verge of a break with reality". You know. I think if they ever met each other they would give each other the autistic stare, shake hands, and mutually agree to kill each other in the most violent way possible. But at the same time they're so fucking different??? In no world would Nikolai manage to bond positively with a child im sorry it just. I don't think it could happen I think he would want it to happen but he would end up throwing it out the window. Poison didn't Mean to ofc but it just sorta happened. And Poison has an arc where he gets Better as much as it still ends badly and the whole thing is supposed to be at least a little heartwarming and well. Nikolai just gets worse lol

And I'm aware that my entire characterization of Party Poison is pretty much all made up past the bare bones of what danger days gives you and yknow like. Two panels in killjoys. And I guess whatever fanon I can assemble without reading fics and ruining the joy of making shit up myself. But they're literally such a fucking specimen for fucking real I am having so much fun dissecting that thang (Party Poison)

17. What songs did you listen to while writing?

For the Hannibal fic specifically?? Oh that's interesting well you see??? I can't listen to music with words while I'm writing because then I'll just end up writing the lyrics, getting distracted, never getting anything done etc. I listen to weird ass shit with no words. But for the Hannibal fic I've been listening to the song Ares on the Safe In The Steep Cliffs album by Emancipator on fucking repeat it's sooo good and it has kind of the same vibe as the piece as in. A silent calm abandoned place built in the ancient fighting grounds of gods where snow covers ruins and giant columns crumble under their own weight. You know. Normal lofi music.

27. What books, movies, etc helped instruct your storytelling this year?

I mean I generally write fanfic so I mean. The source material is obviously the inspiration for it. But I do have some original stuff and lemme tell you American Psycho really inspired one of my stories for school (does not elaborate in the slightest)

I think the book Leech by Hiron Ennes has inspired me in General. It's literally so fucking good I cannot stand it I ate that thing up like autism favorite food it's so fucking scrumptious (it's 80 percent gothic horror and medical gore 20 percent the most mindbreakingly well built sci fi lore that barely gets elaborated on) But it's. Seriously I cannot recommend it more it's not even about queer people it's about Parasites and Diseases but you can tell it's written by a queer person in the best way I want to eat Hiron's brain

[systenowy-blog]

last post inspired me to write something...

"oh you moved on so fast" - about few people we've loved:

you weren't there when I was screaming and crying or having panic and dissociative attacks due to flashbacks, emotions, grieving loss, being confused, lost, not being able to know what is true or right

you weren't there when I had splits and persecutors inner because of what happened in the relationship

you weren't there when I was telling my friends those funny things we shared or nice things about you because there weren't only bad ones (if there were it would be easier to leave) and I missed you

you weren't there when I compared someone to you in my mind because no one was like you and I wanted parts of that life back

you weren't there when I wanted to know what I did wrong and trying to be a better version of myself for you instead of myself - changing your every word into overthinking and blaming myself constantly

you weren't there when I was self harming and tried to kill myself as it was too much and I hated myself and my life

you weren't there when my parents been saying things about you and I had to listen

you weren't there when I was scared to say your name even to my therapist, when I was unsure if I have a right to talk about you and what happened, to befriend anyone due to paranoia and to not make someone stand between us

you weren't there when I was jealous because someone was better than me after all

you weren't there when I wanted to help, when I still cared, when I ran to save you, when I wished you well

you weren't there when I was falling apart as a system, when host was about to be kicked out because we still thought the way you tought us to think

you weren't there when I sat in front of the phone or computer whole days waiting for your reply, worrying

you weren't there when I decided you deserved better than me

you weren't there when I was full of hate/rage and yet couldn't do anything about it because I'm not evil like that to ruin you

you weren't there when I was afraid of touch so much I was panicking to even think about it, take a bath or be in a bus full of people

you weren't there when I felt dirty after what you've done to me and didn't care what will happen next with my body

you weren't there when I started to look worse due to all that baggage

you weren't there when I gave up on love and would date anybody just because they at least saw my worth as I was always not enough for you

you weren't there when I was wondering what you think of me, what was a lie, did you ever really love me or wanted to use me and I was an option

you weren't there when I was waiting for you to fight for me but you didn't

you weren't there when people been warning me about your wrongdoings

you weren't there when I was thinking about going back to you

you weren't there when I was trying to swallow my "pride" (trauma) just to shake your hand or hug you once more or because I am too picky and should accept what I've got

you weren't there when I was risking my ocd thoughts just to talk to you and explain things so we will have peace

you weren't there when I was afraid thinking how to show you how I feel in the nicest way possible because I didn't wanna hurt you but I still did anyway no matter how much I've tried

you weren't there when I was afraid I will provoke you again somehow so I was watching my every word/move

you weren't there when I had to change my sessions time to not bump into you

you weren't there when I was revisiting every place we've been

you weren't there when I was terrified to be too close to your home or places you could be

you weren't there right after you did nasty things to me and I was alone in my room

you weren't there when I was hiding, silenced, friendless

you weren't there when I was holding our ring like it was the most precious thing on Earth

you weren't there when I decided to get engaged again so you don't know why I did that

you weren't there when I was listening to your songs all night

you weren't there when I stopped watching tiktok just to not see you by accident

you weren't there when I either had nightmares or good dreams about you and woke up in an empty cold bed

you weren't there when I was creating excuses for you just to still love you

you weren't there when I was throwing my phone away when someone looked similar to you like it burned

you weren't there when I have fallen on the street after leaving the last meeting with you because I was overwhelmed with that situation

you weren't there when I was deleting your photos... years after break up

you weren't there when I accidentally saw you, had to pass you by and run almost falling under a car, switching and basically howling with emotional pain

you weren't there when I was begging my new partner to hear you out so she will be sure I'm not a bad person

you weren't there when I had to fight new triggers and trauma you caused

you weren't there when I've found out shit you said about me behind my back

you weren't there when I was going through the worst time in my life and needed you the most

so you have no right to judge - you weren't there...

[ryuzakemo128]

Used to the Darkness (Part 1)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Marianna (Female Reader)

Trigger Warning:

Angst

Major Angst

Start is rather depressing

More angst

Graphic depiction of injury

Author's Note: After Season 4, Eddie is still alive.

Inspired by the song Used to the Darkness by Des Rocs

Part Summary: Months after Marianna (Female Reader) discovers her mother is alive. Which causes a mental break down when she sees her again, in person.

Marianna's Point Of View

I thought I would get used to this, you would think after years of this type of thing wouldn't be new and it wouldn't be a new experience. The suffering in silence, staying quiet when all you want to do is scream, cry and punch things. Sometimes you do one, sometimes you do two and on the rarest occasions you just let loose to do them all. Now I'm not the type of person who complains or likes to complain. I hate it, I hated it then and I hate it now.

I get nightmares about things that still scare me, even though they just don't make sense and sometimes I feel stupid thinking about them afterwards. I listen to him speak about it because he's important. More important than myself sometimes. I honestly don't know how he does it, he's braver than I am most of the time. Which says more than he might know. At least he's not afraid to show his emotion, coming from someone with my background shouldn't admire as much. Yet I do anyway.

I haven't noticed how much a knife could sing the same tune as a sword, not for a while and I wish, I wish could have seen it coming. I wish I knew better than to suffer in silence waiting for the pain to leave. It always comes back, stronger than before. It hurts every single time. My lifestyle benefited from this type of outlook, it kept people from knowing too much and becoming too attached.

Sometimes it just doesn't work and they get too emotionally invested anyway. Like now. I don't want to speak about my mother, I never wanted to know about her after I thought she died and to have people look up to her like she's some kind of inspirational figure worthy of looking up to hurts more than I could ever put into words. I never spoke about her, I never wanted to. I never thought I would have to speak about her before today. Not ever. But then again, I don't really need to tell you what I think. It's written all over your face. Your eyes say everything, your expression is screaming it loud and clear. I can see your emotions all over you. I can see it in your face right now. And if that's the case I guess I have no choice but to talk about it.

I want to say it's nothing to worry about and she no longer contacts me because I thought she was dead. I knew she was dead, I didn't think about it before and I didn't pay much attention to it before.

"I'm sorry I didn't warn you about my mother, I would have told you had I remembered." I grip my own hands tightly, knuckles almost turning white looking at the coffee table to avoid any possible eye rolling. I continued to say, "I just didn't want to talk about her. I didn't think I needed to."

I sighed thinking about whether to stay there, wait for a response or to get up and walk away. I settled for leaning forward, arms resting on my knees, head hanging down in an attempt to hide from their gaze. I could feel them studying me intently, their gazes were intense and made me uncomfortable. If looks alone could kill, those two pairs of eyes would already be filled with the coldest death imaginable. A shiver ran down my spine and goosebumps appeared on my skin as a result. It was as if someone touched me in the middle of my neck. I couldn't shake it off.

The only sound in the room is his breathing and my heart beating in my chest. Like a bone drum, in the tune of a marching band. Marching from my head to my heart. I can feel my pulse in my fingertips, my toes. I am suddenly aware of the energy coursing through my veins. My body is alive, and for a moment I am here, and only here.

[debtsunpaid]

he scoffs, a conflicting intersection between being deeply amused and not amused in the slightest. " i'm sure that's what you tell yourself. you ever see a human do a self-portrait, em? stand them up next to it and there's a resemblance, sure, but there's always gonna be something altered. something missing. creating something in your image doesn't mean it actually ends up being like you — just means that if you say that was your intention, people will believe you. i'll save my love — " a word that drips with condescension, more a jab than an admission of its existence, " — for when he actually gets it right. "

oh the goddamn arrogance. it gnaws at him, skating the edges of something brittle: a handpicked mask is still a hollow shape, no matter the care one takes in the crafting of it, and the empty well left behind by the loss of an unblemished divinity swallows down its acknowledgment like a wish, consigned to darkness and daydreams. ( no one will find me there, em. that's the point. ) he smiles to hide the clatter as it lands, hard and cold. " emmanuel. is that a little wounded pride i'm hearing? " both hands come together to clasp before his chest, head inclined to the side, the patronizing visage of the benevolent parent extending . . . well, mercy. " careful now. i know you're fallen, so i can't go expecting much of you these days, but there's only so much sin i can forgive. "

it's amazing to him, truly — the loyalty a damned man can inspire, even as he goes on damning others. manny shakes his head with a frustrated sigh, a paper cut-out facsimile of anger and disappointment. " if they didn't need us pulling the strings, then why are you here? why were you put here, emmanuel, on earth, if not to pull their strings? oh, you can call it whatever you want: guidance, bringing out the good. you can say they don't need it, that they're just fine without us. but if you really believed that, why, all you'd have to do is just sit back and watch, right? unless you're saying god made you to be a pointless angel. is that what you're saying? "

smug intensity darkens into flat, undisguised loathing; directed at who, it's hard to say. at em, at john, at people. at god. " i don't want your weak, subservient love. i don't want your all-important forgiveness. this earth and these people are a burning church with the roof caving in, and i want god to wake up and put out the fire, or i will put it out myself. "

oh it'd be nice, to walk into his brother's house and deliver himself into open arms; to watch the humans stumble, side-by-side, and think on newborn foals as they learn to stand. but cain had to kill abel to properly provide the lesson, and if all anyone chooses to remember is the sorrow of the sheep as they looked to where their tender lay, then manny will be the one to remind them of the weight of the rock as it struck.

all at once, an easing of tension: a slump of shoulders. " i'm trying to help you. " there's reluctant sorrow in that, as ill-accustomed as he is to showing it; to feeling it. this time as he closes the distance between them, it's mundane, the slow process of putting one foot before the other; he stops at an arm's reach, eyes boring into em's without blinking. " you're not impervious to harm, now. you know that, right? can you feel the blood in your veins, the heart that beats, skin that won't just sew itself back together if you cut it? you can't stand before the tide and expect it to break on you, anymore. you're fragile, now. and these people, this constantine . . . they break their fragile things, just to hear the sound. how can you find it in yourself to wait around and let them? "

emmanuel frowns, feeling that the other is not justified in the way he treats him. why did he even come here? it's all been done. his halo snapped, his wings cut, the last bits of divinity he scrapes from the bottom of the pit that is his ribcage, when he needs them. is manny here to take them, too? he maintains a firm gaze. his territory may have gotten much smaller but he is territorial, still. "they are one and the same. i love because i have been given this love to give. and there is no wrong way to do that. none of them are entirely wicked. each of them need just a bit of guidance, a bit of faith... in them. they were created in father's image, were they not? we were meant to love them. where's that love in you? haven't you got any?"

he has to give it to john, there is something intoxicating about staring a being so much more powerful than yourself in the face. to him, of course, that feeling is accompanied by a pang of pain, a phantom limb of nature he's lost. he draws strength from it, nonetheless. remains unimpressed, unsurprised, though he gasps for air a little when space is released again. "-- still you chose to wear the syllables that were mine. were yours not good enough? there is power in a name, everyone knows that. do you feel lost, with all of that to account for? many a-manny, who will find you among all of them?"

tender eyes harden. perhaps it is easier to listen to jabs at himself than it is to have the other throw filth at john. "then you don't know him. he's better than you give him credit for. they all are. the very pull of their soul is towards the good, but every so often they are stuck in the dark, by circumstance, or by their own limitations. they can solve things for themselves, they don't need us to pull the strings. they are not puppets. they shape their own fate. while i was only ever there to bring out the good already in their nature, you -- making sure they earn it -- ruined them with your cryptic advice and a fondness of melodrama. look at you. you are doing it now. do you really feel i'd snapped all of that love and mercy from you? if you were feeling unloved, you should have come around, you'd see you were just as worthy as anyone. that love is unconditional. that love is free. no one needs to earn it, least of all those who need it."

something softens in his gaze again, as if through muscle memory. this kindness seeps through him in spite of everything. kindness and eyes so intent, reading the other though he can no longer see anything but his vessel and eyes so bright. "-- and you appear particularly in need on this fine evening. but you come late. i may give you forgiveness and love, but they will be of my own accord. and that's obviously not something you would consider for yourself... is it?"

[ro-is-struggling]

Lose Myself || Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky can’t help but fall in love with his new neighbor even though every fiber of his beings tells him to stay away from her.

Warnings: song fic, fem reader, written from Bucky’s point of view, angst, mentions of insecurities and trauma (from Bucky’s side), mutual pining kinda, Bucky being a total simp for the reader, fluff

English is not my first language

Word count: 4200

Notes: this is part 2 of You Ruined Me (Matt Murdock x Reader) but you can totally read this as a stand alone. All you have to know is that Reader and Matt used to date but they broke up because he was still in love with Elektra. Also, I have plans for part 3 with a little more drama👀 so let me know if you guys would like to read that!

Like the previous part, this one is also inspired by a JC Chasez song, this time it’s Lose Myself so again I recommend you to listen to it to understand the vibe of the story. 

She loves daffodils and she keeps them on her window sill

When the wind blows her smell fills the room

She dreams in color, but does she know that I love her?

I'm swimming in my abyss of insecure blue

Bucky knocked on his neighbor's door gently, certain that you would be close enough to the entrance to hear him walk down the hallway to get there. You had called him urgently because you needed his help to get rid of a spider that was tormenting your apartment so naturally he dropped everything he was doing to rush to your rescue. You had that kind of relationship. Whenever you needed help killing a bug that you were terrified of or if there was a heavy piece of furniture you wanted to move you called Bucky. He lived in the apartment down the hall from you so he had no problem coming over to help you. It was always small favors and easy tasks that he would gladly do if it gave him an excuse to see you. You usually ended up hanging out together afterwards, and those were his favorite parts of the day.

When you opened the door Bucky's nostrils were assaulted by the smell of daffodils coming from inside the apartment. It was your favorite fragrance and over time he had learned to love it too. It was a scent he associated with you and therefore always brought him feelings of peace, security, love...

"Bucky! Thank God you're here!" you exclaimed, stepping aside to let him pass. "Come quick before it hides again." Closing the door behind him, you took his hand and led him through the apartment and into the kitchen. 

"Where is the monstrous spider you need me to take care of?" Bucky asked in a slightly amused tone. You always sounded so dramatic over the phone, but in his experience it was all your exaggerations. He was ready to meet the world's smallest spider. 

"It's in there." you pointed your finger into the kitchen as you stood in the safety of the door frame. "Between those things on the counter." You refused to go back into the kitchen as long as that thing was there, so you gave Bucky a gentle shove to force him in. He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at your attitude as he went inside to inspect the area you had indicated.

"This thing? Really?" he said when he found the spider walking across the counter. Sure, it wasn't a small domestic spider, but it wasn't the horrifying monster you had described to him either. "It's not that bad."

"It's disgusting. Get it out of here!"

Bucky didn't see the need to kill it, so he trapped it inside a glass so he could release it outside. He walked to the balcony, laughing as you let out a shriek and ran in the opposite direction as he walked past you with the spider in his hands. After releasing it Bucky closed the door to make sure it didn't get back into the apartment.

"All done! You can breathe now, doll" Bucky said as he turned to find you in the corner of the living room, hugging one of the couch cushions.

"Oh my god! Thank you thank you thank you thank you!" You thanked him, letting go of the cushion and running into his arms. "I don't know what I would do without you" you murmured against his chest. Bucky let out a chuckle, wrapping his arms around you as he felt his pulse quicken at the contact.

"Probably burn the building to the ground as soon as a bug enters your apartment."

"Oh you know me so well," you laughed, imagining the situation. "Are you staying for dinner? I have pizza and beer," you added, pulling away from him so you could look him in the eye. 

"Well, I can't say no to that."

It was sort of a tradition you guys had. Every time he helped you, you thanked him with food. It was a ritual that went all the way back to the day you met. You were in the process of moving in and when Bucky came into the building after his afternoon walk he saw you struggling to carry your belongings up to your apartment. He didn't usually interact with strangers, but the gentleman in him wouldn't let him go anywhere without offering his help. You had refused at first, telling him you didn't want to bother him, but when Bucky started lifting the boxes as if they weighed nothing you ended up agreeing. You spent the whole day together that time, carrying all your furniture and possessions up the stairs as you chatted and got to know each other. As night fell you invited him over for dinner. Your apartment was a mess of boxes and bags piled everywhere, but you had a few beers and the number of a pizza place that had been recommended to you. 

Bucky had wanted to say no, the voice of insecurity in his head screaming at him to get away from you before he ended up ruining your life. But there was something about your smile that wouldn't let him say no. You were special in a way that Bucky couldn't describe. You were completely different from him in every way, cheerful and easy to talk to, a splash of color in his gray life. Maybe that was what attracted him to you, the stark contrast you represented. You were everything he wasn't and to his surprise he liked that. 

Your little tradition had been created that day without either of you realizing it. It had been the beginning of your relationship and the beginning of Bucky's feelings for you.

And I'm losing my head

And I can't get no sleep

But if I reached out

Would you reach out for me?

Bucky hadn't been able to stop thinking about you since that day. And his feelings for you only grew as time went by. The sound of your melodious laughter was permanently recorded in his mind, accompanying him in every second of his life. He spent his days waiting for the moment when he could hear it again, longing for your next encounter in the hope of feeling once again that tingle that ran through his body every time your hands brushed.

He was in love with you, there was no denying it. It had been hard for him to admit it, but it was the truth. Though just because he was willing to admit it to himself didn't mean he was ready to act on his feelings.

The love he felt for you was unlike anything he had felt in the past. It was much stronger, much more intense. He lay awake at night thinking about you, trying to decide if he should act on what he felt. He wanted to, God knew there was nothing he wanted more than to hold you in his arms and tell you how much he loved you. But he could never muster the courage to do it. The voice of insecurity in his head always stopped him, reminding him that he was a mess and that you deserved someone better. Bucky knew he shouldn't listen to that voice, but it was very hard for him to ignore it so he kept his feelings secret, loving you in silence.

He was pretty sure you didn't feel anything for him anyway, so he didn't see the point in confessing his feelings to you. You had told him about your ex-boyfriend, how you had found him cheating on you with another woman and how much that breakup had hurt. You were so heartbroken that you had moved out of your apartment to escape the memories, hoping to start over in a place far away from all the pain. From the way you talked about him and your past relationship, Bucky assumed that you still had feelings for your ex-boyfriend. And he used that as an excuse so he wouldn't have to admit that he was terrified of you rejecting him. He had convinced himself of it because it was easier than accepting the truth.

However, there were times when he questioned his assumptions. There were times when you looked at him in a special way. Bucky couldn't describe it in words, but there was a special sparkle he sometimes noticed in your eyes that led him to wonder what would really happen if he decided to confess his feelings to you. And now as he listened to you telling him about your day, laughing over a funny story from work, Bucky couldn't help but wonder if you would take his hand if he dared to take the big step, if you would risk jumping with him or if you would let him fall alone into the abyss of uncertainty.

Knocked unconscious, walking on water cause I'm thinking of you

And don't you know that love's intoxicating and I need the abuse?

Because I'm endlessly falling, you're my destiny calling

What you're making me do

It's all because I lose myself in you

All because I lose myself in you

When you finished dinner you settled down on the couch to watch TV. It was not uncommon for you to end up curled up on top of each other under a blanket while watching a show or movie that caught your attention. Those were Bucky's favorite moments because he had an excuse to put his arms around you and pull you close to him. Normally he was not a fan of physical contact, he had too many painful memories that prevented him from enjoying being close to people. But with you it was different. With you everything was different. Bucky loved to take you in his arms and feel your warmth enveloping his body, it was like a gentle caress to his hurting soul. And that's exactly what he did, leaning back against the back of the couch to give you room to lay your head on his chest.

He tried to pay attention to the movie playing on the screen. It was some romantic comedy that he had never seen before, but you seemed to like it. He was sure it was very entertaining, but despite how hard he tried to pay attention to it, the sound of the television was nothing more than a mere background noise that sounded muffled, completely drowned out by the harmonious melody of your laughter. Bucky could smell the sweet scent of your hair, a mixture of your shampoo and your signature daffodil perfume. It invaded his nostrils with every breath he took, intoxicating him with your scent. How could he concentrate on anything else when you were all he could feel, all he could think about?

Bucky was convinced that you were his destiny calling him. He didn't really believe in that sort of thing, but it was the only explanation he could find for his feelings for you. He believed that you were meant to be together and all the shit he'd been through was a necessary evil he'd had to endure in order to get to you. Bucky felt a little selfish every time his thoughts took him down that route. He had nothing good to offer you and was probably the least qualified person to be in a relationship at the time. You deserved someone far better than him, someone who wasn't broken inside, someone who could offer you a brighter future. He knew that being with him was probably the worst decision you could make, but he couldn't deny how he felt. And even though it was selfish, he was sure that you were his destiny. 

You had made your way into his heart faster than anyone else in his life, both past and present. Somehow you had managed to break down all the barriers he had put up around his heart to protect himself, and you had secured a place in it without asking him for permission. You had become his support, his guide. You were the only person capable of making him feel good in his worst moments, the only one that with a simple smile could make all his negative thoughts disappear. You had never judged him, despite knowing who he was and what his past entailed. You had always been kind to him, showing him respect and affection even when he wasn't sure he deserved it. 

Bucky wasn't sure if you knew how much you had helped him by simply being yourself. Your kindness and caring inspired him to get better with each passing day, to fight negative thoughts and to be a better person. It made him think that if someone as good as you was capable of loving him then maybe he wasn't the monster his mind told him he was.

You had become his refuge, his home. You represented everything good in his life. You were a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, a rainbow shining through the clouds after a storm. Bucky got lost in you every time you were together, letting your light illuminate his dark inner self. He was addicted to you, to the feeling of comfort and reassurance you brought him. He was addicted to loving you. Even if it hurted him, he couldn’t stay away from you.

I don't wanna be invisible, I just wanna be compatible

Longing for something that can only be filled by you

'Cause I'm fighting with my confidence

Build up my courage, give myself a chance

Because the only thing I think about is you

Bucky knew he was being selfish by staying by your side. He knew that the best thing for you would be for him to disappear from your life before he ended up hurting you. And in the beginning he had tried to walk away, to push you out of his heart and forget about you forever. He had forced himself to meet other people, going on multiple dates and looking for that special spark he felt when he was with you. But all his attempts had failed. The women he had dated were nice, but they weren't you. 

You were the only one who could fill the void in his heart. You were the only woman he wanted to wake up next to every morning and the only one he wanted to hug every night before he went to sleep. You were the only woman he wanted to kiss for the rest of his life. You were the love of his life and no one else could make him feel what you made him feel. And the worst part was that you didn't even realize the effect you had on him.

It took Bucky a while to accept that his feelings for you would not change and that it was stupid to look for something in other people that only you could give him. But when he finally gave up, when he finally accepted that he couldn't change how he felt, he decided to invest his energy into getting better every day. He focused on repairing his confidence and self-esteem and trying to make peace with his past. He knew it would be a long and arduous process, too much damage had been done to him and it cut deep inside him, but he hoped one day he would become worthy of your love. So he tried to take things slow, giving himself the chance to experience life in a more positive way.  He tried to revisit the things that used to make him happy in the past and find new things to enjoy, slowly but surely becoming a whole person again.

Do you know that I'm here? Do I even exist?

I'll dance on velvet skies

For just the thought of one kiss

"She has some good communication skills." Your voice brought him out of his thoughts. On the screen the protagonist was screaming at her love interest about how much he had hurt her and he seemed to understand his mistake as he watched her cry. "I tried that with my ex and it didn't work. She needs to give me some tips" you added with a bitter laugh. You were joking, but Bucky could sense a hint of pain in your voice. His stomach dropped and a sharp sting pierced his heart like a dagger.

He felt invisible, competing against the man that had broken your heart. It frustrated him to know that you were still thinking about that idiot who had done nothing but make you suffer when he was right there beside you, longing for a chance to show you how you should be loved.

Every time the subject of your ex-boyfriend came up in your conversations, Bucky couldn't help but think about how stupid that Matt guy had been to let such a wonderful woman like you go. In Bucky's eyes you were perfection itself, the most beautiful angel in heaven who had come down to take care of him. He couldn't believe that there was a single person on this earth who wasn't capable of seeing you that way. He couldn't understand how anyone could want to hurt a sweet soul like you. How someone who had had the privilege of holding your heart in his hands could have dared to crush it to pieces. If it had been him in your ex-boyfriend's place, Bucky would have made sure to take care of your heart as if it were his own, to show you every day how much he loved you and how important you were to him. Matt was a jerk who didn't deserve you and it was a shame that you still thought about him.

I see the beauty in your strength, baby

And you fight to keep it in you

But I break down your walls

With my army of love

"We're not all the same, doll. I would never have treated you that badly." Bucky spoke without even thinking about what he was saying. It was hard for him to concentrate when you were so close to him. When he realized what he had said he stayed silent. It was a very thin and dangerous line he was walking and if he wasn't careful he would end up saying things he couldn't take back later.

"Yeah well Matt said the same thing and he still cheated on me with his ex-girlfriend so.... I don't know if I can trust your words, Buck."

He couldn't stand the pain he heard in your voice any longer. It wasn't fair for someone as wonderful as you to question your worth because of the actions of a jerk who didn't know how to love you. You deserved to hear compliments and to be told how amazing you were. You deserved to be loved with the same fervor that you loved others around you. You deserved everything good in the world because you were everything good in Bucky's world. And if no one was willing to tell you that, then he would have to. He would have to take it upon himself to show you your true worth and break down the barriers you had built up around your heart, just as you had done with him. For a moment Bucky stopped caring if you realized how he really felt about you, it was a risk he was willing to take if it meant that he could give you back your confidence, support you in the same way you supported him.

"That's because Matt is an idiot who doesn't deserve you." Bucky said confidently even though his insides were fluttering with nerves. "He had the most wonderful woman in the world by his side and he let her go to chase after an ex. That's pathetic."

"You think I'm the most wonderful woman in the world?" you asked, lifting your head off his chest so you could look him in the eye. You spoke in a slightly playful tone, but you were really curious about the answer.

"Of course you are! There is not a doubt in my mind." Bucky assured you without hesitation. "You deserve to be appreciated for who you are. You deserve to be with someone who sees your beauty, but not only your physical beauty, the beauty of your soul as well. You deserve to be loved right. So fuck Matt! He's an idiot who couldn't see just how lucky he was to have you by his side."

As Bucky exposed his heart through his words, his eyes didn't leave yours not even for a second. He was afraid of what he might read in them, but at the same time he didn't know if he could keep hiding his feelings much longer. He was already confessing his love to you without saying it explicitly, so he might as well take advantage of it to evaluate your reaction and be rejected if that was what you really felt. It would hurt, but at least he would stop living in doubt. 

However, it was not rejection that he read in your eyes as the words escaped uncontrollably from his mouth. No, it was quite the opposite. Bucky noticed that special glow in your eyes, the one that only appeared from time to time and made him wonder if you had feelings for him. His heart began to beat fast because of his nerves, but also because of the rush of hope that invaded him.

"You really mean that?" you spoke, your voice almost a whisper. "Because I really want to kiss you now, but I don't know if I can go through all that again. So if you're lying, please tell me." Your eyes crystallized, tears quickly forming at the memory of the pain you had gone through after Matt. It broke Bucky's heart to see you in such a vulnerable state and he mentally cursed Matt for hurting you so much.

"I could never lie to you, doll." He assured you with sincerity in his voice before leaning forward and joining his lips with yours.

Take a journey through my heart, it's a test if fate

As we hold each other close our spirits gravitate

Let's drift into forever as our boundaries melt away

It was a slow, experimental kiss, but passionate nonetheless. Your lips moved together as your hands sought to cling to any part of each other's body they could find. Bucky cupped your face with his flesh hand, caressing your soft skin with his thumb as his brain made an effort to memorize every detail of that moment. He wanted to remember it all for the rest of his life, from the way your lips felt against his to the almost inperceptible sighs of pleasure you let out every time he sucked on your lower lip. He had waited so long for a chance to show you how he felt about you and he didn't intend to waste a single second of it.

Slowly Bucky felt you relaxing into the kiss, your lips moving more confidently against his as you let your hands creep up his chest until they found a place to rest on the back of his neck. He took the moment to deepen the kiss, your lips melding together in a real demonstration of how you felt about each other. You both could feel the little that was left of the walls you had built to protect your hearts finally crumbling, leaving you completely exposed to love. You used to think you would be terrified the day that happened. You thought that all the pain you had gone through with Matt would haunt you forever, preventing you from ever giving yourself body and soul to anyone else. But at that moment there was no place you felt safer than in Bucky's arms. You could feel his love coursing through your veins, your connection growing stronger with every movement of his lips. And somehow you knew you could trust him with your heart.

"Would you go on a date with me?" Bucky asked you when you pulled apart. His voice was barely a whisper as he rested his forehead on yours. "I want to take you out on a proper date."

"Are you saying that my cheap beers and pizza are not a good plan for a date?" You joked, putting a smile on Bucky's face.

"No, I'm saying you deserve to go on a date that didn't start with a bug terrorizing your apartment for once." You let out a chuckle, the sweet melody traveling through the air and into Bucky's ears, piercing straight into his joyfully beating heart. 

"Fair enough. I'll go on a date with you, but only on one condition." Bucky nodded, willing to do whatever you asked no matter how ridiculous just to have a chance to show you how special you were to him. "You have to promise me that you'll continue to take care of the bugs that terrorize my apartment."

This time it was Bucky's turn to let out a chuckle. "I wouldn't have it any other way." He assured you before bringing your lips back together in a kiss.

And as he let himself get lost in you once again, Bucky couldn't help but think how lucky he was to have crossed paths with someone as wonderful as you.

Baby, my life is yours, just open up the door

I can't believe I found you

[treasureswordsgirl55]

Inappropriate Thoughts

Character: Marc Spector / Mr. Knight

Pairing: Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Inspired by: "new posters" especially Mr. Knight poster

Mentions: About DID.

Warnings ⚠️: Sexual Tension. No Smut. Implied sexual references. Jokes. Nights. Fears. Worried about Reader. Friends. Site in New York. Post!Endgame.

Author's Note: Hello everyone!

I hope you're doing well, I will be brief: I still don't know how I wrote this. But that poster triggered things in my brain and in my imagination.

Because I admit, he looks pretty good like that.

And more fics like these will come... I assure you.

I ask you, if you like it, I would appreciate it if you would reblog it or comment on what you thought because it would mean a lot.

XOXO 😘

- You will kill me, you know that, right?

I shake my head as soon as I turn around and see his silhouette completely covered in that expensive white cloth that identifies his identity as Mr. Knight.

- What are you doing here, Marc?

I allow myself to call him by his name because I know that here, it's just the two of us in this lonely street.

- I'll accompany you home.

I roll my eyes and hold back at his almost childlike fake-innocent tone until he's in the same leve with me and I do nothing but glare at him.

He shakes his head in denial, extends his glove-covered hand to the strap of my bag, removes it from my shoulder, and while placing it on his, tells me to keep walking, placing both hands in his pants pockets. We do it in silence for a few minutes, but the sound of the bus passing makes us both look up from the ground. I flatly refuse to look at him because that small gesture is too much for my poor heart.

- Thanks for coming. But it wasn't necessary.

- Of course it is. I don't like you walking around here alone - Some of the few people who pass us greet him with a wave, a smile or call him by name, but it is inevitable for them to smile when he sees him with a yellow bag that is a clear contrast against his white suit and mask. Anyone who didn't know him would say he came from a comic book convention - It's dangerous, darling.

The only problem with that mask is that it hides the beauty of the face underneath.

- I didn't think affectionate nicknames be your thing, Spector.

- I do what I can...

I smile as we reach the bus stop and as if by magic, one of them stops in front of us.

- Get on - I let myself be carried away by the serious tone of his voice while he indicates the doors of the bus, hands me the backpack and I look for a second at the driver who only nods his head towards Marc, or should I say, towards Mr Knight.

- But... - I don't want to get away from him. His work already kept him too far away from me and I only saw him randomly a couple of times a month. I don't want this to end so soon - I can walk with you a couple more blocks.

He doesn't answer and just looks around as if someone is chasing us. He shakes his head at my look of regret that I can't hide and gives me a little nudge in the small of my back, a touch that triggers many unconscious reactions in my body.

- Come on up, please.

- I hate you - I want to get mad at him but I can't. He mutters that phrase to me, but a throat clearing confirms that he heard me.

- I don't think so... Come on up.

The driver looks at him in amazement without even hiding it and I hurry up the steps without even turning to look at him. I refuse to give him the pleasure of basking in my sad gaze as he disappears into the darkness of the night without even looking back.

I'm not going to let him think it's hard for me not to think about him. Especially when I know it's true, especially when he's wearing that damn white three-piece suit.

I try to think of something else but the only thought that comes to me is one where it's just the two of us and I'm more than focused on getting it off him.

I sit in one of the empty double seats and within seconds, I feel someone occupy the seat next to me.

- Don't you dare say a single word about this.

I let out a laugh when I see Marc scramble into his seemingly small seat and after cursing, he just folds his arms as we ride in silence in the middle of the night.

We continue like this until we get to my apartment, none of them says a single word and it's still hard for me to see his face knowing that I can't read his expressions because of that piece of white cloth that covers his face. It's the aspect of Mr. Knight that I hate the most.

I look in my pocket for the key, and when I can't find it, I reach for it in my backpack, but I'm distracted by the tapping of her fingers against the cream-patterned blue wall.

- Why don't you do your magic or bibidi babidi bu and open the door if you're so impatient?

He rolls his eyes as he stops hitting the wall.

- You know things don't work in that way.

- Do not tell me. I just found out, Mr Knight. I did not know it. I'm sorry - My voice is tinged with sarcasm while the only answer I get from him is a laugh - Are you laughing at me now?

- I like it when you're upset - he admits without a hint of guilt and brushes my arm with his gloved hand. I stop myself from moaning as I feel the softness of the fabric and the delicacy of his touch and put on a show for his ego - I just want you to be okay.

- I was fine without you behind my back....

"Although it would be better if you were on me, with this suit and that hand in other places that I won't even pronounce in my thoughts..."

- You have to take better care of yourself, darling. I already have enough with New York without having to keep an eye on you and your steps.

- It wasn't something I asked of you, Marc.

Ignore how my mind screams at me to unleash my nightly fantasies and I turn away from him to keep my sanity.

- But I want to do it. Let me take care of you while I can.

- Whatever you say - I open the apartment door and enter without even closing the door because I know it's coming after me - Answer me one thing, why did you choose this colour? And why wear a suit?

- Elegance - his answer comes to the second without the slightest hint of doubt - He likes it. We all like. It is the color of the moon. Men finds it intimidating and women finds it attractive. I don't know... - I feel the sincerity in his voice and I turn around at the same time I see him sit on a stool in my kitchen as if it were his apartment, which is across from mine, in the building when crossing the street. He takes off his jacket and places it delicately on the other empty stool next to him while I make two cups of tea and set one on the table in front of him. He don't have to take off the mask to know that he is frowning in clear sign of displeasure - Don't you have something stronger?

- We don't drink alcohol here, sorry.

He lifts his mask up a bit and takes a sip of tea and I can't help but look at his neck and see how it moves every second a sip of drink passes down his throat.

How the hell did I find that so attractive?

- Enjoying the view? - I look up and look at his brown eyes that shine with amusement. He had caught me and I couldn't deny it. He shrugs at me as I take a sip of my drink and I watch as he unbuttons his shirt sleeves and rolls them up to his elbows.

And at this point it is already impossible for me to contain the sigh that escapes from my lips.

- If you keep doing that, you'll have a serious problem.

For a moment I regret throwing away the bottle of vodka I bought on impulse last month.

- Doing what?

- Nothing. Forget what I said.

His eyes are curious and I can tell he's smiling, as if he's caught a little mouse trying to get out of his hands.

- You can tell me what you feel, maybe I can even help you.

- Don't push your luck, Spector.

- I like to do it. More if I will get something more than just a chat with you - I feel a shiver run down my spine when I hear the change in his tone of voice and the first image that appears in my mind involves us both, my room and without any clothes.

I have to go to confession after this.

- You will not get more than my invitation to withdraw from my department.

He motions for the door nonchalantly and he chuckles as he gets up, but I hardly think he's going to walk there, I'm blinking at my side as he pins me against the kitchen island.

- Do you really want me to leave? -His hands go up both sides of my arms and I can't help but hide the tremor that his touch generates in me. He lets out a snort accompanied by a laugh - You may tell me yes, but your body says something else.

- These are wrong signals. I'm cold.

- You lie - I try to move away but his brown eyes, which now have a wicked shine, keep me in place while he plays with the laces of my shirt - You want my touch. You want me to stay here and maybe I can fulfill some of the thoughts you have in that beautiful head.

- Now you read minds?

- No, but I know what you think when you see me - his voice drops a few decibels and I feel that his whisper reaches the depths of my being - You want my full attention on you. And everywhere. You just have to ask for it.

I feel like my heart is going to jump out of my chest or stop beating at any moment if he keeps talking.

- Tell me you want me and I'm yours.

- Marc...

- No, this time I'm Mr. Knight for you. I will be the one to fulfill the fantasies that are in your head... And maybe he will help me with it.

- What are you talking about?

- That the moon gives me greater strength in many aspects besides the fights, and in this one it will too.

I reach out to touch the buttons on his vest and lose myself in the brush of his fingers on my neck as well as in his closeness.

- Take your mask off.

- The halo of mystery will disappear. So no.

- I want to see you. I want to feel your lips on mine and tangle my fingers in your hair, and with the damn mask I can't.

He laughs out loud as he pulls away from him slightly and seems to think about it, but when he reaches up to his head to remove his mask, his cell phone starts ringing...

"Day and night...." 🎶

- Dammit...

- Will you answer?

- I must - he sighs as he walks away and I hear him ask Reese, his secretary, a series of questions. He's back in a minute as he grabs the jacket and puts it on quickly - I have to go. Some problems have arisen.

My attraction and libido deflate and I see him reach out to take my hand and bring it to his lips.

He leaves a kiss on her and walks away from me towards the door.

- This will not stay like this. You will be mine, in all the ways that you have imagined and in ways that I will teach you, as well as in every way. Don't forget.

[viking-raider]

Afterlife *One-Shot*

Summary: Clark becomes aware of his own death, in the aftermath of his battle with Doomsday, while you grieve for him.

Pairing: Clark Kent (Superman)/Reader

Word Count: 6.6k

Warning: G - Angst, Trauma, Mention of Death and the Great Beyond, Greiving, Depression, Fighting, Alien Technology, Light Amnesia, HEA

Inspiration: I had this headcanon after watching Batman v Superman.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy it! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’

The first thing Clark remembered, after Doomsday stabbed him through the heart, was emptiness. It was quiet, dark and empty. He couldn't pinpoint where he was in the universe or if he even was in the universe anymore.

His next thought was for you, you had been in downtown Metropolis, while he, Bruce and Diana fought Doomsday. He had to save you, when you went for the Kryptonite spear. He recalled telling you that you were his world, that he loved you, before taking the spear himself and flying off towards the monster, impaling Doomsday through the chest with it.

Had I killed it, before it killed me? Is she safe now?

It became abundantly apparent to Clark that he was dead. There was no other way around it.

If it were anything else, he likely would have recovered by now, however long by now it was. He was inhabiting some state of being, aware and conscious of himself, and could only answer it by him being a Kryptonian. He wondered if this was a natural Kryptonian occurrence, once their body died, that their consciousness lived on for some sort of duration or perhaps his body was still intact enough and his body's refusal to decay allowed him to be mentally aware, while still dead, somehow.

It truly baffled him.

Is Zod in a similar state? Are my biological parents? Is there a way for me to reach out to them?

He let himself go quiet and listened for anything that might potentially be moving or making a sound around him, he remained that way for a long time, hoping for any semblance of contact in the space beyond, but heard and felt nothing, other than himself.

Finding no reason in returning to the surface of his consciousness, Clark receded further inside of it, the quiet outside was only a tortured reminder of the loneliness and his death, of being without you and the pain he knew he left you in. The life the two of you would now never have the pleasure of living.

At least, she gets to live, then my death was well worth it. He thought, before finally falling silent.

“It's been a month.”

Martha pointed out, as she found you sitting on the pouch, staring off in the direction of the graveyard. “You haven't been to his grave since we buried him.” She said, holding a steaming cup of tea out to you, before taking up the spot on the porch swing beside you.

You opened your mouth, but the words jumbled into your throat, like a traffic jam. Shaking your head, you took a sip of the tea and washed the tangled words down, before finally managing to speak. “I don't have the courage or the bravery.” You whispered, biting your bottom lip against a fresh onslaught of tears that threatened you. “I could walk into a war zone, into a pack of rabid protesters and stare down the most decorated and brazen, four star Generals, to get a story.”

“But I have to use the back road to drive onto a farm I'm more familiar with than my laptop, just so I can avoid seeing that graveyard, or I'll end up losing myself.”

Martha pressed her lips together and rested her hand between your shoulder blades. “It took me a week to walk halfway down there, after Jonathan died, and then three days to finish the other half.” She confessed to you, sighing softly. “I thought I was going to cry, like a newborn baby, when I finally made it to his headstone.”

“But, I didn't.”

“What did you do?” You asked, looking at her.

“I was finally able to tell him all the things I wanted to tell him, but couldn't at his wake, since it was all still too raw and new.” She admitted, gently rubbing your back. “If it takes you a month to walk down there, or longer, we both know there are still things you need to tell Clark, so you can heal.” She told you, leaning in to kiss your hair, then stood and went back inside.

You let out an unsteady breath and stared down at your cooling cup, you missed Clark, like you were missing one of your body parts. You had become a shadow of yourself, you had only returned Metropolis for a few days in the month after he died, to grab some of your belongings from the apartment you shared with him. But staying there was too hard, seeing his things around the apartment and sleeping in the bed you had shared with him, and seeing the construction being done to rebuild the parts of the city destroyed by Doomsday, was just too much of a reminder, things were still going on, even when your life had stopped.

So, you took Martha's offer to stay at the farm with her.

It wasn't as hard being in the place where Clark was raised, and buried. You didn't see him as Superman, where in the Metropolis, all you saw were the flying black and silver symbols of Hope and people mourning their superhero and god. On that small Kansas farm, you saw his life, you saw Clark Joseph Kent; the son, reporter and fiance that just happened to be an extraordinary and more unique being than most people on Earth. The Kent Farm was the solid foundation you needed in the wake of his death and you weren't sure you'd be able to set foot off of it again, without your life falling apart. Even though you knew Clark would be upset with you, understanding, but upset that you were allowing your life to spin to a halt.

But Clark had been your world too.

You took a deep, fortifying sip of your tea and stood up, setting the cup on the porch rail and walked down the front steps, the gravel leading up the driveway to the house crunched under your feet. “Oh god, it took your mother a week to make it halfway there, might take me two weeks just to get farther than the porch steps.” You huffed, smirking and shaking your head. “Look at me, talking to you again, like you're here.” You scolded yourself, even though Martha and the therapist Perry made you talk to on the phone told you it was perfectly normal and part of a healing process.

“Hey, Dusty.” You sighed, leaning over to pat the fluffy Border Collie on the head. “Got any encouraging advice for me?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Maybe, if we lined up a bunch of juicy journalist leads along the way, I could just write one article at a time to his grave, hm? Might take a year, but I'll get there!” You laughed, straightening up and sighed again. “I bet if it was me in that grave, Clark would have built a house next to it, so he'd see me every day, and here I am, a month in.”

Squaring your shoulders and putting on your best expression, the one you usually used when one of your leads was being a hard-ass, you put your foot in front of you and did the same with the other and kept focusing on that, one foot in front of the other, in the direction of Clark. While trying to convince your panicking brain, you were just going out there to grab him from visiting his dad's grave, for lunch. You had done it several times before, you could do it again, minus the catch attached to it.

Before you knew it, you were standing at the edge of the graveyard, Dusty was trailing behind you a little ways. Your hands were trembling and sweating at your sides as you looked out over the sea of varying headstones. Even though you hadn't been here since Clark was buried, before they had even closed his grave, you knew exactly where to look. He had been laid to rest beside Jonathan, who you had visited several times. It put a small smile on your face, remembering the first time you had come to the farm with Clark, he had introduced you to his mother, then afterwards, he walked you down here to introduce you to his dad, saying even if he was gone, it didn't feel right not at least having the two of you meet in some capacity.

You had found it sweet, a tad cheesy, but all Clark, with what you would later coin as his Southern Kryptonian charm.

“It only took a day for me to make it this far, Clark.” You said, biting your lip and rubbing your hands on the thigh of your jeans, standing at the edge of gravel and lush, emerald green grass, his grave just in view with the brown granite headstone, just like his father's, you noticed the grass had grown in over him, seamlessly.

Your hands balled up and you moved a few steps closer, before stopping again, breathing hard and shaking a little bit. “Clark.” You mewled, chin quivering as you finally made the last couple of steps. “Clark, I miss you so much. I don't know how I'm supposed to go on without you here.” You sniffled, lowering yourself down, to sit cross legged in the grass, between his and his father's graves.

“Everything is so much duller, now that you're gone. I just don't--” You sighed and looked at the blue sky above you, picturing him hovering in it.

Clark became aware of a murmur that did belong with a sequence of memories he had been inhabiting and swam away from them.

He'd become innately skilled with his conscious surfing, flitting from one memory to another, mostly memories of you, a couple memories from before his dad died. He had been learning how to manipulate them to a degree, so they'd last a little longer. He was currently engrossing himself in reliving the night he proposed to you. He had flown the two of you to the farm, his mom had left the house to the two of you, staying with a friend for the night, to give you space. He had taken you on a walk through the corn field, just before sunset and as you both came out on the other side with a perfect view of the sun melting into the horizon, Clark got down on one knee and revealed the simple diamond and platinum band.

The murmur became more clear, the closer to the surface he got. It was the sound of your voice, calling out to him from somewhere outside his consciousness, that he could somehow still hear you from.

Clark, I miss you so much. Your voice was crystal clear, as if you were standing right next to him.

I'm right here! Clark tried yelling back.

I don't know how I'm supposed to go on without you here. You cried, your voice weakening. Everything is so much duller, now that you're gone. I just don't see the world like I used to. I can't find the point or the center of a story anymore. I keep waiting for Perry to call me, to tell me the Bosses have fired me, since I haven't been into work in the month you've been gone.

A month.

If Clark's nervous system worked, he would have jerked with surprise.

I've been dead for a month! Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry. You can't even hear me.

I'm sorry, it took me so long to come see you, after the funeral. A whole month. But I do talk to you, I feel absolutely insane and like I should hand myself in to the Metropolis Asylum or something. But your mom says, she still talks to your dad, to this day. So, that's comforting. She's the most sane and wonderful woman I've ever met. She's the only real rock I've had, since—you know. You sighed, twisting blades of grass between your fingers. Other than Dusty. You added with a weak chuckle.

At least, you still have Ma, and Dusty. Clark took some consolation in that. I hope she's holding up well. But if you're visiting her regularly, then I'm sure the two of you are being strong for each other. I wish there was a way for me to come back to you both. To go back and try something different. But, at least you and Ma are safe.

I promise to visit you more. I'll come back before bedtime and say good-night to you. You promised, softly. Now, I know I'm actually strong enough to make it down here, without turning into a pathetic mess of a human being. You chuckled, smirking. There's a joke for you, Kryptonian.

Very funny. Clark quipped, before growing somber. Wish you knew I could hear you. That you could hear me too.

I love you, Clark. You cooed, finding a little more strength to place a gentle kiss to the cold stone of his grave marker.

I love you too, babe. I love you too.

You starting to regularly visit Clark's grave began to give him a general sense of time. You always visited him after breakfast in the mornings, telling him about how you slept, describing the dream you had, which usually always involved him in some way.

He learned quickly, you had a recurring nightmare about the day he died, but you had only spoken at length about it once, as if his grave and consciousness were the only things you could unburden yourself of it too. Which wasn't wrong. You hadn't told anyone about the night terror. You were sure Martha had an idea about it, mother's intuition and the several times you'd woken her up screaming Clark's name, but she never pressed you for it.

After that though, you just referred to it as that dream, before moving on again.

After an hour or two, you'd leave his graveside for several hours, to try and get some journalism done with the stories Perry had sent your way via emails and such, he was being extremely understanding and accommodating. But you knew that was going to run out soon enough. You'd either go back down to Clark again around lunch time or for a break. Going on and on about the piece you were trying to write for the Planet. Clark, even in the grave, would out of habit throw in his suggestions on ideas you could use, possible ways you could look for leads or just his loving encouragement, before catching himself.

But you always came down before you went to bed to say good night to him.

“All right, Super-Boy.” You sighed, stopping beside Clark's grave, your feet bare and wearing a pair of Jack Skellington pajama bottoms and Clark's old Smallville High School t-shirt. “It's bedtime. So, I've come to say good-night and don't let earthworms bite.” You chuckled, even with the smallest twinge in your stomach.

Even dead, you still make fun of me. Clark remarked, entertained. If I ever get out of this box, I'll tickle you mercilessly.

“I love you, Clark. I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well.” You said, keeping to your ritual of kissing his headstone and walked back to the house.

With you gone, Clark began filling the time with memories, until he sensed something, that wasn't you. He couldn't put a name on what it was, he knew what you felt like. Even dead, Clark understood your approach and presence, it called out through his consciousness and it had pulled him to you through the world and cosmos, when he was alive. This felt as Alien like he was, strange and strong, and right on top of him.

Beyond that feeling, this presence, he heard nothing else.

The next morning, you were coming down the stairs and heading towards the kitchen, when you stopped dead in your tracks, hearing a familiar voice coming from that direction; one you hadn't heard in three months, since Doomsday and Clark's death. Panic bubbled into your chest as you slowly approached the kitchen door and saw, none other than, Bruce Wayne sitting at the kitchen island with Martha, enjoying a cup of coffee with her.

“Oh, you're awake!” Martha started, spotting you. “This young man,” She smiled, touching Bruce's shoulder. “was a friend of Clark's and wanted to come see how you were doing.” She explained, but saw the look on your face and quickly slipped off her stool and rushed over to you. “Honey, what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“You can say that.” You rasped, wide eyes still on Bruce with shock.

“That's my fault.” Bruce said, setting his mug down. “I should have called you first to see if it was all right I came by.”

“You think?” You huffed, eye twitching a little bit, before you looked at Martha. “Do you mind if I speak to him, for a moment?” You asked, keeping the edge out of your voice.

Martha got the hint and nodded, made a polite gesture to Bruce, then went upstairs, to give you both privacy.

“What the hell are you doing here, Bruce!” You barked, starting towards him, anger flaring in your eyes.

“Well, I came to check on you and Martha.” Bruce replied, a tad surprised at your reaction, but didn't move off his seat. “I know you haven't been back to the Daily Planet, or even the Metropolis in the three months Clark's been--”

“Don't you dare.” You hissed him, snapping your fingers and sticking your index finger in his face. “Part of why my fiance is dead is because of you, Bruce Wayne. You were hell bent on making him some monster that wanted to burn the world to the ground. When all Clark wanted to do was be a reporter, plan our wedding and bring Hope to people, when they needed it!” You growled at him, tears beginning to stream down your face. “But instead, you both let Lex Luther manipulate you into fighting. Maybe that's why the word starts with man. I don't know. But you had a hand in taking him away from me.” You seethed, before slapping him across the face, though it hurt you more than it hurt him, it felt good.

“I'll never forgive you for that!” You huffed, finally turning on your heels and storming out of the kitchen.

“Even if I could bring him back!” Bruce called back out to you.

You froze on the steps going upstairs, part of you said to keep going back to Clark's old room, the one you had taken over, that Bruce was just baiting you back into the kitchen to talk. But the part of you that knew Bruce, knew he didn't mince words or promises.

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath, turning around and heading into the kitchen again. “If you're lying to me, I'll expose your ass as Batman before you can get off this property.” You told him, coldly.

“I'm not.” Bruce said, ambiguously, picking up the coffee pot Martha had set on a pot holder in the middle of the island and poured some into the cup she had clearly set out for when you came down to join them. “Coffee? I know how cranky you are, before your first sip in the mornings.” He smirked, holding it out to you.

“Don't act chummy with me, Wayne. Just talk.” You told him, taking the cup from him and walking out onto the front porch, spotting Bruce's ultra expensive car in the driveway with your car and Martha's truck.

Bruce followed you onto the porch. “We, my team and I, found a way to bring Clark back.” He said, standing beside you.

“Oh, more Kryptonian technology?” You asked, sipping your coffee, trying to scold your hopes from coming up.

“No, it's some form of Alien technology, we're not exactly sure what kind, but...” He paused, looking down at his feet for a second, considering how much he should tell you. “Take a walk with me.” He said, stepping off the porch, before looking back at you.

“It's nothing chummy.” He reassured you, before moving forward.

Sighing, you caught up to him and waited for him to continue.

“One of my team members was in a horrible car crash, nearly died—should have died, his body was maimed, almost beyond recognition.” Bruce began to explain to you, slowly walking towards the graveyard. “His father was a top scientist for the Department of Defense, he used this Alien Technology, a Box, to put his son back together again. I have a theory that with the Kryptonian Ship, where Lex made Doomsday, in the regeneration chamber, and this box, we would be able to revive Clark.” He finished, just as the two of you reached the graveyard.

“Dear God!” You gasped, your cup slipping out of your hand and broke on the gravel at your feet. “What have you done!?” You demanded, seeing the gaping hole where Clark should have been buried. “Bruce!” You yelled, punching him in the arm. “Where—Did you just take Clark's body without asking his mother and I?”

“I did.” He nodded, unapologetic. “We need him—alive.”

You glared up at him, and finally saw it. “No.” You shook your head at him. “You don't need Clark alive. You need Superman alive. You don't give a fuck about Clark, you never have!” You growled, burning with anger.

“You're wrong!” Bruce snapped, jerking slightly towards you, spooking you. “You're wrong.” He said softer, pulling himself together again, not meaning to scare you. “I know going after him was wrong and I regret that decision every single day. I blame myself for his death. I don't need you or anyone else blaming or reminding me of it, I do it already. But, as much as my team and the world needs Superman, they need Clark Kent more. You are right, he gave this world Hope, but he also gave this world more than just Hope.”

“There's something coming, and without him alive, we won't survive it.”

“Then, why are you here and not wherever you need to be, to bring him back?” You asked, sighing heavily.

“Because, we have all the components.” He answered, looking down at you with a soft smirk. “But, we don't have Clark Kent's key.”

“Key? You mean, the Command Key?” You frowned up at him, shaking your head. “We lost that, when we fought Zod.”

“No.” Bruce laughed, resting his hand on your shoulder. “You are Clark's key. I need you to come back to Metropolis with me. We don't know what's going to happen, when we use the Box to revive Clark, but something told me you were the key. So, I need you to be my secret weapon, should anything happen. Besides, if I know anything about Clark Kent, you'll be the first person he'll want to see, when he comes back to the world of the living, and I can't deny the Kryptonian that.”

“When do we leave?” You asked, with no hesitation.

“As soon as you're dressed.” Bruce laughed, looking you over, still in your pajamas. “I'll get you some breakfast on the way there.” He added, heading back to the house with you. “But, don't mention the Clark thing to Martha.” He whispered as you walked up the porch steps.

You shot him a look, that asked, who do you think I am?

“Martha!” You called out, heading upstairs to change.

“Is everything all right?” She called back, coming out of her room.

“Everything's fine.” You reassured her, resting your hand on her arm. “But I need to return to Metropolis with Bruce.” You told her, feeling a small part of you needed to tell her of the possibility, however small or big, about bringing Clark back, she was his mother, she deserved to know, but you also didn't want to get her hopes up either. “I won't be gone long, he has a lead on one of the articles I'm trying to write.”

“The privileges of a Billionaire PlayBoy.” You said, chuckling and rolling your eyes.

Martha studied you for a long moment, before smiling and nodding her head. “All right, you both be safe then!” She said, hugging you tight.

“I promise.” You replied, hugging her back, but had that reporter's tingle that she knew something more was going on, but wasn't saying anything about it. “I'll see you, hopefully tomorrow or the next day.” You promised, letting go of her and heading off to get changed, then met Bruce at his car and sped off to where his jet was parked.

“I really hope this works, Bruce.” You whispered, settling in your seat on the plane. “I miss him. I miss him so much.”

“I do too.” Bruce replied, sitting across from you.

“Just stay here with Alfred, when we're ready for you, he'll bring you to us.” Bruce explained as he sat beside you in the back seat of one of his luxury cars, Alfred at the wheel.

“All right.” You nodded, nervous and impatient.

The flight from Kansas to Metropolis had been shorter than it would have been on a commercial airplane, but it mentally felt longer, thanks to you tossing the idea of Clark potentially coming back to life or not. You had no idea what you would do if it failed. You supposed it wouldn't actually change anything, he'd still be dead, you would just have to somehow explain the fresh dirt on his grave to Martha and anyone that visited it. You also had no idea what you would do if, and when, Clark came back to life. There would be explaining his reappearance to people.

You had thrown this scenario at Bruce during the flight and he had replied simply, witness protection.

You had considered that avenue, Clark had done some digging into the Batman and drew the eye of Lex Luther. So, using the Doomsday attack as the perfect timing to fake Clark's death to cool the heat from those two, even though Bruce was Batman, would make a damn good cover story.

“Would you like to listen to anything on the radio, madam?” Alfred asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“No, thank you, Alfred.” You replied, smiling kindly at him.

He nodded his head back at you, before turning to face forward again and went back to his newspaper. You pulled your phone out and scrolled through your photos, smiling at the pictures of you and Clark, not realizing you had chuckled out loud at a photo of the two of you covered in cake frosting, until noticing Alfred smirking at you through the rear-view mirror.

“Sorry, I was just looking at a photo of Clark and I at my last birthday.” You told him, turning your phone around to show him. “We ended up eating my cake plain, because we got into a frosting fight.”

Alfred chuckled, seeing the photo. “I truly hope Bruce can bring Master Kent back.” He said, softly.

“So, do I.” You sighed, looking back at the photo and running the tip of your finger over the image of Clark's chocolate covered, grinning face. “I'm so terribly lost without him.” You admitted, quietly.

The look on Alfred's face was soft, understanding and sympathetic, but you hadn't noticed, your attention had been drawn outside. You bent your head low to your chest with your eyes out the heavily tinted windshield, almost rolled into the back of your head just to look up at the object hovering in the sky.

“Oh, dear god.” You gasped, jaw hitting your chest. “Clark.” You mewled, voice creaking. “He did it. Bruce actually fucking did it.” You sighed, a smirk pulling across your lips, watching Clark move across the sky, away from the building Bruce had vanished into sometime before, and towards Hero's Park, where Superman's monument once was and now his shrine stood.

“I have to--” You started, grabbing the handle to your door, only to have the lock click shut on you. “Alfred!” You barked, head snapping to him.

“Mr. Wayne said he would call, when it was time for you to join him and Mr. Kent.” Alfred replied, calmly, his index finger still holding down the master lock button on the driver's door. “It's safer this way.”

“Safer? You think Clark would hurt me?” You asked, snorting at him and the notion of it.

“No, I don't, Miss.” He answered, tipping his head forward slightly, offering his silent apology for the apparent slight. “But, we don't know how Master Kent would react to being brought back to life, and until we do know, it's safer for all parties concerned, that he and the team assess the situation first.”

You bit your bottom lip and clenched your jaw, before straightening up in your seat with a sigh. “Fine. Clark would tell me the exact same thing.” You said, impatiently turning your phone in your hands. “In fact he has, many times.”

It wasn't ten minutes later that the sound of sirens filled the city air outside of the car, you weren't entirely surprised by the sound, it was the middle of Metropolis, if there wasn't at least one police siren going off every five minutes, then there was something truly wrong. But as time progressed, there were more and more sirens, and not just sirens, soon there were cop cars speeding by you and Alfred, lights blaring. You became uneasy, seeing them make it to the intersection up ahead and turn left, towards the park.

Soon, Military Humvees joined the cop cars and your unease and anxiety only increased. You couldn't see the Park from where you and Alfred sat in the car, but regardless, you knew things weren't going as planned. Gripping your phone in your left hand, you slowly crept your right hand up the side of your door, carefully eyeing Alfred as he watched all the cop cars, military personnel and civilians crowding into the streets to see what all the commotion was, until your fingers found the lock. Your heart stopped in your chest as you strained to unlock your door, freezing in place as it popped, but Alfred didn't react, his attention firmly focused on what was outside the car and not what was inside it, probably believing both of you were safe and sound.

With the door unlocked, you gripped the door handle and took a quiet, but deep breath, waiting for the perfect moment to pull it open and bolt out. It came a minute later, with the sound of a new police car ripping down the street. You yanked the door open and tore out of it, before Alfred could fully react, yelling out your name through the left open back door. You ignored him as you sprinted down the cracked and weed strewn sidewalk, your sneakers beating the pavement and shocking your legs with the impact, but you kept going, willing yourself faster.

You needed to get to Clark, to find out what was going on and why Bruce was taking so long to call in his secret weapon. You hardly looked both ways, before cutting across the street and around the corner towards Hero's Park. Just turning the corner onto the street the park was on, was a whole other world, there were cars and people everywhere, being pushed behind establishing lines, but you weren't about to let that deter you, you never had before for a story and you sure as hell wouldn't, if it meant getting to Clark. You stopped for a second and looked around, before spotting a small spot in the chain-link fence they put around the fence after the Doomsday fight and went for it, squeezing your body through it.

Getting through the fence, you found a small-scale battlefield. The three pillars that once stood behind Superman's statue had been smashed to bits, even more rubble and debris filled the space, with smashed Metropolis Police cars and a burning Humvee. You saw Diana laying on the ground by one of the shimmering pools, a kid in a red suit splayed out on the steps beside a larger, heavily tattooed man. You finally spotted Clark just past Diana, barefoot and shirtless, only wearing the shredded suit pants he had been buried in. His body was tense, the muscles of his back defined and his hands almost completely curled into fists as he strode intently towards someone just beyond him.

“Bruce.” You mumbled, spotting the Billionaire in his full Bat suit. “Oh, Christ.” You gasped, watching Clark rise up from the ground, just before he reached Bruce, a cold chill of fear rushed down your back, prickling your skin, you took off towards him.

“Stop, don't!” A half metal, half man yelled out, as you dashed by him, but you kept going, your eyes locked on Clark.

“He doesn't know who he is!” Diana tried to warn you.

“Clark!” You screamed out, coming to a halt as he blasted Bruce backwards into a parked police car behind him with his laser vision. “Clark, don't!” You cried, begging him, your heart giving way with relief, when you saw Bruce had managed to block the scorching light with his gauntlet, and was mostly unhurt.

Clark slowly turned towards you in the air, his ordinarily cerulean blue eyes lit up like molten steel made the breath in your throat freeze solid, but he didn't unleash his vision on you, not yet at least. He only cocked his head at you, clearly scanning and studying you.

You gulped thickly, not wanting to show him fear. “Clark, please.” You rasped, biting the inside of your cheek. “This isn't you.” You told him, daring to take a small step closer to him.

“Don't-” Bruce started to call out, but stopped, when Clark jerked a look at him over his shoulder.

“Just shut up, Bruce.” You growled between clenched teeth. “You wanted your secret weapon.” You hissed at him, then focused back on your fiance. “This is not who you are.” You said, steadying your voice and taking another step forward. “You are a good person, and he-” You pointed to Bruce, and took a deep breath. “Is your friend. He's an idiot, but he's still your friend.”

Bruce shot you a look, but didn't say anything.

“So, please, don't kill him or any of them.”

The bright, fiery-orange in Clark's eyes faded, revealing the eyes you had missed and loved so much, bringing a grin to your face and even more tears to your eyes, before he slowly lowered himself back to the ground. You reached out to him, your fingertips touching the warm, but cool skin of his shoulder and sighed softly, it was all real and not some insane dream.

“I know you.” Clark's deep voice rumbled.

You chuckled, sniffling. “I know you too.” You replied, looking up at him. “You are Clark Joseph Kent, the love of my life.” You whispered, feeling the world around you brighten again.

Clark cupped your face in his big hands, tenderly rubbing his thumbs underneath your eyes to wipe away your overflowing tears, before pulling you in tight against his body, wrapping his strong and solid arms around you, then took off into the skies, with a thunderous boom.

“What the hell was that?” Asked the tattooed male, as he helped Bruce up.

“My secret weapon.” Bruce replied, flexing his sore body.

Clark landed the both of you on the edge of the corn field he had proposed to you in.

“Home.” He whispered, looking out over the waist high stalks to the Kent Farm.

“You remember this?” You asked, looking up at him with your hand resting on the small of his back.

“I do.” He nodded, looking down at you and smiling. “It's starting to come back to me. I was really jumbled up back there, but seeing you kick started me again.” He confessed, cupping the side of your neck in his hand and leaning in to kiss you deeply.

You melted against him, wrapping your arms around his waist and returned his kiss, before pressing your forehead to the center of his chest and took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. “I missed you very much, Clark.” You mumbled, relaxing.

“I know you did.” He replied, nosing your hair and kissing the top of your head. “I heard you.”

“You what?” You squeaked, tipping your head back to look up at him, confused and caught off guard.

Clark smirked at you, brushing his fingers through your hair, reveling in being able to feel your tresses and skin again. “When you would visit my grave-” He licked his upper lip and cast his eyes in the direction of the cemetery. “I don't know how to explain it or how it worked, but I could hear you. I could still sense you too, when you were close enough to me. Everything you said, while I was—away—I heard it all. I know about your nightmare about my death and Doomsday, that you haven't been back to our apartment since it happened.”

“Clark-” Your mouth worked, but you didn't know what to say.

“It's crazy, I know.” He laughed, shaking his head. “At first, I was alone with myself and the memories I had of my life. It probably has something to do with my being Superman and Kryptonian. But, I want you to know, I heard all of it. You weren't really alone. I would answer you, even if you couldn't hear me. Which reminds me.” He said, dropping his hands to your sides and gave them a tickle, making you laugh and squirm.

“What was that for?!” You giggled, slapping at his hands.

“Making fun of the dead!” Clark chuckled back at you. “Don't let the earthworms bite! Really, babe?”

“We both know, I've always had a good deadpan humor.” You replied, winking at him, before scurrying away, so he couldn't tickle you again. “But I do find that oddly comforting, you being able to hear me.” You said, returning to him, but paused for a moment. “What was it like, being dead?”

Clark took a deep breath and let it out with a soft sigh. “It was--” He shook his head, then leveled his eyes at you. “It doesn't matter, I'm here with you again.” He said, pulling you against him for another kiss. “And, I'm not going back there again, for a very, very long time. I promise.”

“You better keep that promise, Kent, or so help me God!” You proclaimed, lifting a brow at him. “Now that I know you can hear me from the grave, I'll hound you day and night with the most god awful things I can think of and buy!” You threatened, jabbing a finger in his chest.

“If that's the case, I'll make sure to live to at least a hundred.” Clark smirked, closing his hand around yours and brought your fingers to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

“That's what I want to hear.” You smiled, pushed up on your toes and rubbed noses with him.

[zzaunite]

NEW MOOD.

RATED T FOR TEEN & UP AUDIENCES.

PART ONE OF TWO.

a/n: inspired by this post and the song new mood by lpx. i haven't written anything in twenty years and so my apologies if this is Terrible. don't worry about the mcu timeline. i'm fucking with it. and i'm also definitely not editing this bc it's two am.

kate bishop x fem!reader: after the battle of new york you made it your life's mission to kill a god. somewhere along the way you meet kate bishop and get a little sidetracked.

warnings: angst, minor suicidal ideation, unhealthy relationships, emotional manipulation.

i am not currently fulfilling requests, but any made will be filed away for future consideration.

WHY CAN’T I PUT THE PAST ON ICE?

You’re stuck in your head.

You can’t get past the bit of your history where your family died, where you stood and watched, confused and horrified and transfixed, as the Chitauri blew a hole through your life.

The Battle of New York took everything from you — your mother, father, brother, sister, grandmother. Hell, it even took your dog. For that you cannot (will not) forgive the one who brought them here, the god who opened the door and stood aside while the Chitauri wreaked havoc on the world you held so dear.

For fun.

Loki, the Trickster God, God of Mischief and all its cohorts, will die at your hands one day. You’ll have it no other way. Either you will claim his life as your own or will die trying, and you do not consider dying a consequence.

To die is only to fail at the greatest task you have ever been given, and to fail trying would be as honorable a failure as any.

You vow to spend the rest of your life hunting the second in line to the Asgardian throne. You create trackers, build beacons, fake magical events — all to draw out the god who stole your life from you.

None of it works.

It’s by chance that you find another Asgardian on Earth. A college professor in Canada, doctor of history, so embedded in the academic world that it takes you a year and a half to admit to her heritage.

Jodunn, she calls herself.

“It was cold the night I was born,” she tells you. “Cold and fraught with storms of hail that scared my father so deeply he gave me a name to rival the ice.”

“He named you after the realm of the Frost Giants.”

“It seems that way,” she says, a knowing smile inching across her lips.

Jodunn leads you to Erik Selvig.

Erik Selvig cannot lead you to Thor.

“The man’s been off-world for a while,” he tells you. “No cell reception up in Asgard, I suppose. He’ll be back, I don’t doubt it, but I couldn’t tell you when.”

Selvig can, however, lead you to the Avengers who, at first, want nothing to do with you.

Until you meet Kate Bishop and momentarily forget your grand plan to kill a god.

“I’m Kate,” she says, offering a calloused hand and a crooked grin. “Hawkeye.”

You tell her your name and she tells you it suits you and you do your very best not to look smitten as she crinkles her nose and bids you to come along.

Kate takes you to dinner because she feels bad about Stark and Rogers telling you they can’t help.

“And because you’re, like, insanely pretty and I’d totally never forgive myself if I didn’t take this chance,” she admits when you ask her what exactly the two of you are doing.

“So this is a date.”

“Hell yeah, this is a date,” she says, “but only if you’re okay with that.”

You’re definitely okay with it.

It takes you two and a half weeks to tell her you’ve never actually dated anyone before. Too busy trying to figure out how to track down a god, how to subdue a god, and how to figure out what you’re supposed to do with your life once you actually kill a god.

“So…when I kissed you for the first time last week, was that—?”

“No,” you tell her, chuckling at the emotions that pass over her face (surprise, worry, curiosity) in the moments before you speak. “Unfortunately, Kate Bishop, you were not my first kiss.”

“No, no, right,” she says quickly, shaking her head, and you start to worry the moment she crosses her arms and tucks her hands beneath her elbows. Her body language is always loud and you’ve learned it’s almost never a good sign any time it goes quiet. “Of course not, that would be…stupid.”

Kate excuses herself and it takes you two hours to find her on a bench in Central Park with Lucky asleep on her feet. She’s watching a tee-ball game from afar, squinting in the wind as the little tykes run the bases.

“Their life is so simple,” she says when you sit down beside her. “Just tee-ball games and orange slices and pizza parties. I never thought I’d envy an eight-year-old.”

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you tell her because you really don’t and you also don’t know what you’re supposed to say to a woman you’ve barely known three weeks and have just started dating. “Did I do something wrong? You closed up real fast back there.”

She doesn’t answer right away, which is fine, just looks at the leash in her hands and shakes her head and sighs and looks at you and looks away and groans in frustration, which is less fine, but all you can do is sit there and wait.

“You said something,” she tells you after a while, and when she finally looks at you she’s smiling sheepishly, and, “It was the full-naming me thing,” she says. “I had someone — there was someone — who used to do that a lot. Someone who was really important to me, who, if I’m being totally honest, is still important to me, but I also haven’t seen her in a year. She dropped out of my life like it was nothing and it took me a long time to figure out how to fill all the empty space she left behind.”

When she reaches for your hand you let her take it, trying to tamp down the pang of your heart as you work through what you just heard. Thinking about her feeling the need to run at the first sign of emotional distress is hard, thinking about her losing someone important is worse, but her fingers pushing through yours to clasp your hand is what you try to focus on.

“Okay then. Just Kate.”

“That’ll work.”

“All right, hotshot,” you say. “How about we go somewhere warm and talk about the possibility of me breaking into Stark’s archives for Loki intel.”

Kate blinks.

“Okay, fine,” you say. “How about we go somewhere warm and talk about the possibility of me breaking into Stark’s archives over pizza.”

Both she and the dog perk up at that.

SO FUCKING BAD AT CUTTING TIES.

“I’ve been doing nothing in New York for six months,” you say, almost angrily, the grit in your voice only irritating you further. It doesn’t feel good to snap and it feels worse to see the hurt in Kate’s eyes when you do. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You’ve been sleeping in my bed and embedding yourself in my life for six months,” she says. “Taking me on dates and getting my dog to love you. Shit. Even Jack likes you and he’s an idiot, but he’s the closest thing left to family I have in this city.”

It really wasn’t what you meant.

You don’t regret any of the time you’ve spent with Kate. You don’t regret your mutual love for Lucky, nor do you regret giving Jack the Asgardian shortsword Jodunn gave you to use as a bargaining chip to get closer to Loki.

Okay, that’s a lie, you regret giving the sword up a little bit because it might’ve actually gotten you somewhere and you only gave it to him because you hadn’t made any god-killing progress in months and you were frustrated and not thinking straight and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Standing stupidly at the counter in one of Kate’s big tees and a pair of her purple sweats at four in the morning, hanging your head over the sink as you wrack your brain for anything to say that won’t make this worse, only makes things worse.

“If all of that isn’t nothing,” she says, “then I want to know what you meant. Explain it to me.”

“I” — you grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut, hands balling into fists — “need a drink.”

“It’s four in the morning.”

“It’s four in the morning and I need a drink. Is that going to be a problem?”

“You’re doing it again.”

“What, Kate?” It comes out tired, angry, and when you round on her the exasperation is plain as day on your face. The bags under your eyes don’t help. “What am I doing again?”

The worst is how fast she closes in on herself: hugs her knees to her chest, keeps turning away, pulls her sleeves down over her hands until the only thing left for you to look at is the insecurity in her eyes.

“Reminding me of her,” she says quietly. “She was always angry before she left, like she resented me for the stability and lack of life-threatening adventure.”

“You’re literally a superhero, Kate. Isn’t life-threatening adventure your entire job?”

“Okay. Sure.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re shutting down.”

“Well — well, you’re being a big asshole.”

She’s right. You are.

“Yeah,” you say, “I know.” You don’t say the part about putting your only goal in life on hold to shack up with her and a golden retriever in New York City.

“I’m a second-string Avenger, okay?” Kate huffs, rests her chin on her knee, and looks at you with a sad smile. “I don’t get to do anything cool, I just stay here in this stupid apartment and wait for them to tell me they need me.”

“Kate.”

“And they never need me.”

Fuck it, you think, becuase you really don’t know what else to think, or say, so, “Fuck it,” you say, “and fuck the Avengers, too, while we’re at it. Come with me.”

“I’m the only person you know in the city and you definitely do not have anywhere else to go. And I’m mad at you.”

“Kate.”

“Sorry.”

"Don't be."

You drop to the floor before her and pull her arms from around her legs, coaxing her to sit up on the edge of the couch, which she does, if reluctantly.

“Look,” you tell her, sliding your hands into hers and pulling her forward until she’s looming right over you and trying not to let you back in, “I’m not a good girlfriend, I know that, even though I don’t actually know if that’s what I am to you, but listen — come with me. If Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist and the Ice Boy won’t put your talents to good use, let me do that. I could use an Avenger in my corner, and you’re the best there is.”

“I’m barely an Avenger,” she says, and you hate how it hurts to see how much she believes that.

It’s because they don’t know what she’s truly worth, you think, how much she can do, and how ready for the hero life she actually is. Kate can do it. She’s ready, whether they believe that or not, but hell if you’re going to keep her on the bench and waste everything she has to offer. You’re not like them — not cautious, not worried, not trying to overplan. You know she can do everything (okay, maybe not everything) that the rest of the Avengers can do. You just need to give her the opportunity to prove that. And you need to give yourself an opportunity to make up for making her feel like you’ve never wanted to make her feel. Ever.

So, “Come with me,” you say again. “Prove to them that you’re worth more in the field than you are cooped up here.”

First she looks anxious, and then her anxiety gives way to anger, anger to acceptance, and then she nods so hesitantly that you’re not actually sure it’s a nod at all until she says, “Okay. Okay, I’ll come.”

Your chest swells with relief and you straighten up on your knees so you can reach her lips and melt into her.

“But,” she says against your mouth, giving a little hiss when you tug at her bottom lip. It takes her a second to get you off of her, at which point she’s rosy-cheeked and grinning bashfully, and, “But if one of the big ones comes after me, I’m telling them you abducted me from my apartment and forced me to be your sidekick.”

“Sidekick? You?” You overdo the shock, dropping your jaw and slapping a hand over your heart, just to see her smile again. You’d do a lot of things for that smile. “You’re no sidekick, Kate. You’re a hero, and I really need one of those.”

You’ve never been good at letting things go, and you’ve never started anything you don’t intend to finish, so you’ve never let yourself start something with anyone before. Mostly because it’s never been worth it and also because you’ve never not been terrified of what would happen if someone was, in fact, actually worth it.

Kate Bishop is not a mistake, but she was an accident, and you’ll be damned if you leave her in the wreckage.

And, shit, she might actually be worth it.

I WISH THAT I COULD JUST MOVE FORWARD.

“You were there, Kate. You know what it was like to watch those things tear through the city like it was nothing.”

Kate sighs. “I know,” she says quietly, and reaches for you in the dark, finding your damp cheek and swiping at the tears with her thumb. “My dad died that day.”

“Mine, too,” you tell her for the first time. It’s strange, you think, talking about it like this, in the middle of the night with the lights off, in a shitty hotel room on the outskirts of Quebec. “Right along with the rest of my family.” You don’t have a good reason for waiting so long to tell her why exactly you’re on this mission other than you don’t like talking about your family because it still stings and you’re still no closer to Loki.

Sometimes you dream of your family in the night and wake up believing it was real and spend the rest of your day grounding yourself in the reality that they are gone and are never coming back. It’s worse when you daydream of them, when you’re conscious and know they’re gone but still find it in yourself to wish for them. Even though you know better. You can’t win either way.

At least you can’t see Kate’s face right now. You’d like to think she’s not looking at you with pity, but you’ve never trusted anyone not to pity you before.

“The Battle of New York was what made me want to be a hero,” she says. “After that day there was no way in hell I could sit on the sidelines the next time something else happened.”

She’s told you this before. At least twice. About the wall of her house, blown open, about the Chitauri headed straight for her and the arrow that stopped them. And about Clint, the second hero she ever had. Right after her dad.

“We were kids,” she says, closer now, forehead bumping against your cheek, her lips catching your jaw. “Just kids, but that day still defines so many of us. That day is the reason I picked up a bow, and it’s the reason you—”

“Are on a suicide mission to kill a god? Yeah. I know.”

Kate laughs, tucking into your side, and something changes, and it’s not something you can identify. Not yet.

It isn’t until the next day that you manage to give it an honest thought.

A suicide mission, you called it. A path to certain death.

And death has always been a possibility, you’ve always known that. Hell, sometimes you’ve prayed for it. Only when to die would be easier than the alternative, especially when the alternative is only getting farther and farther away.

You don’t know how to find a god. And, shit, even if you did? You definitely do not know how to kill one. Your life’s mission, goal, dream — whatever — is an impossible possibility. It’s the pipe dream of an angry child who convinced herself that she could undo the wrong that was done to her family.

Maybe you’ve always known that, that this whole thing is impossible. Maybe you just didn’t care. Not about wasting your life, or about dying, or about any of it. But if this is a suicide mission, you are no longer the only one on it. What happens to Kate will be on your head. Her blood on your hands.

God forbid.

God fucking forbid.

Maybe it’s because you’re running on an hour and a half of sleep, or because your vision is tunneling and you don’t know where to veer off, but you decide then and there that you cannot let that happen. Not to her.

“Deal’s off,” you say into the phone a few minutes later. Kate’s out cold, one arm hanging off the bed and the other stuffed beneath a pillow.

“What a pity.” The Asgardian’s voice hums in your ear. “I understand you and the archer have become quite attached to one another, so I suppose I understand your hesitance.”

“I’m not hesitating,” you say, “I just won’t do it. I won’t.”

“Very well.” Quiet. Then: “If you won’t bring me an Avenger, I’m afraid I must ask you to return my sword.”

Shit.

“I don’t have it.”

“I know. Retrieve it for me, sweetling, though I advise you not to cross the border if you wish to see tomorrow.”

“Shit. I mean — fuck — okay. Fine, I’ll get you the sword.”

“If the man with the mustache, Jack Duquesne, is reluctant to give it up, bring me him as well. If that makes it easier.”

The line goes dead.

You look at Kate, sprawled out across the hotel bed, peaceful as you’ve ever seen her, and in that moment you decide maybe you deserve to die — suicide mission or not — becuase who else would do something like this if not a monster?

“Hey.” You shake her gently, brushing the hair out of her face to kiss her temple. “Come on, get up. We have to go.”

“Mm—? Oh. Hi.” A yawn. “Mmkay — okay — one minute.” Another yawn. “Are we going to see your professor friend?”

“No. We’re going back to New York.”

That wakes her up.

“What? Why? You said this was a good lead, that she might know where to find Thor.”

“I was wrong.”

Kate sits up, rubs at her eyes, and looks at you like you’re the only one who has the right answers.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” she says simply, through another yawn.

“Yeah,” you tell her, “I know. But we have to go. We can’t be here. You can’t be here. Just — trust me, okay?”

And, “Okay,” she says, reaching for her bow like it’s the only thing she has faith in at the moment, and, “okay. We’re going. Let’s go.”