#and i am holding onto the tiniest sliver of hope that it might happen

[lazyturtlehottub]

hello, it's me, your local clown clowning it up again

but imagine if we actually get to see a bucktommy wedding. if we get to see them decide to become parents. if we get to watch the growth of this queer relationship in the same way we saw maddie and chimney fall in love, and the way that we didn't with Hen and Karen

imagine how beautiful that would be

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

The Perfect Life

Part Five 

Summary- 5.1k Dark!Steve x You x Dark!Bucky. You took your chances out in the sunflowers and Bucky still managed to find you. Now your caught in the super soldiers grasp and the barn is his destination to break you. Your sweet pleads can not dissuade him. 

Warnings- Non Con Theme, Orgasm Denial and Knife Use, Mentions of blood. This is an 18+ Blog.

Part 4 

“Bucky, I will behave. Whatever you want.” You cried into his shoulder as you felt the barn's darkness swallow you whole. The last memories of this place where they broke you made you quake and shiver. Steve wrapping you in the ropes, Bucky running the blade over you while they both took their time breaking you in. 

No it can't happen again. 

“I- I can do what I did for Steve.” You offered as he swung you down onto a pile of straw on the barns floor. You twisted to pull yourself away, but he was quick to drag you back and shoved you onto your back, his weight holding you down, ignoring the pleading. 

“I know what you did for Steve.” Bucky said, his eyes cold as he snatched your wrists to yank above your head and lash a coil of rope around one, pulling it tight around them so you couldn't wriggle out of the bindings, but loose enough he could roll you from your back to your stomach. “And one day, I will see you on your knees swallowing my cock.” He sat back and gripped your chin, making you blink teary eyed up at him. “But when that happens it's because you want to. Not because you have to.” 

“Bucky I will never want to.” 

He studied you, again his touch gentle on your face as his face was a thunderous anger brimming in his greyish blue, resembling a summer storm just about to release. “You will be eating those words one day.” He shifted off your body and unbuttoned your jeans to yank them off, your flailing legs trying to kick at him but he was quicker to dodge flying feet and tossed your jeans away. Monsters didn’t care.

“Fuck you Bucky, you know this shit is wrong. What you two are doing to me.” Anger welling through you, knowing that your pleading wasn't going to make him stop. Nothing was going to make them stop. 

Bucky stretched one leg to the corner of the mattress and tilted your hip enough when you caught him in the chest, right where you had stabbed him with the tip of the knife. It made him hiss at the sting, bright white teeth snapping together as his mouth turned to a sneer while he bound one ankle hurriedly. His palm smacked harshly against your ass, digging his fingers in the flesh. “Same argument every time Doll. We’re mistreating you...” he let you flip back into place and wrapped the rope around your ankle. Making you spread eagle now on the mattress as he rose above you, admiring you all spread out for him. “... This is what you think of us, or me? Fine. Then that is how I will treat you.” He reached down to give a yank on your ropes to make sure you weren't going anywhere before he strode away, leaving you all alone. 

“Bucky... ? “ You called after him with a shaky voice, but he left you all alone in the dark barn. The soft coo of disturbed birds trilled above you in the hay loft and slivers of moonlight sliced through busted beams above, putting the whole place in shadows. 

And the shadows played with your mind, waiting for one of them to come out and claim you as before, this was a living nightmare, so if Steve showed back up suddenly, it really wouldn't surprise you. 

Just as helpless as before, your mind created devastating scenarios. Brutally being destroyed made you squirm more, the ropes rubbing wickedly in your wrists but never loosening. Of course you should have known better, Bucky would be an efficient knot maker. 

Your mouth felt dry, your body hyper aware of the slightest breeze going through the barn, the straw underneath you, the prickle of the old ropes in your wrists and ankles as well as the angle Bucky left you in. You did your best to calm yourself, whatever was coming you could handle. You hoped. 

He didn't leave you alone for too long, soon the door creaked and a twist of your head showed him striding back in. Having changed into a pair of loose grey sweats, bare chested and in his hand a silver flash of the kitchen knife you had brought with you. He must have gone back to retrieve it. 

“What are you going to do with that?” You asked, looking at him warily and trying to shift away from him as much as the ropes allowed. 

Bucky spared you a glance wriggling in distress on the hay pile , twisting your hands to tug at the ropes, panting slightly as your eyes glazed in fear and mistrust. “Whatever I want Y/N, because I’m a monster who just takes what I want without caring about others.” 

You rolled your body as he sank to his knees next to you, trying to avoid him, but he crowded into your space and felt the suffocation of his much larger body smothering yours into the scratchy straw. It prickled down your back and along the back of your thighs, making your skin crawl in the process. It would have been maddening if you weren't so focused on the man above you or the cold silver knife that you stupidly thought would keep you safe before. 

Now he was going to use it on you. 

Bucky twisted the flat of the blade to trail along your quivering stomach, your chest rising rapidly in your panic thinking that you were going to feel the knife press sharply to split you open. The blade was cool on your heated skin, ice cold to you that the steel of it felt like it was burning you. “Bucky don’t.” 

“Don’t what Doll? According to you, this is what I am.” He moved to straddle you, his heavier weight making you sink into the hay, trapping your thighs flat beneath him. His palm fell forward while he leaned forward, his eyes roving up your naked body, a storm cloud grey swirling pattern in his eyes while his pupils widened like a dark moon. “Monster, say it again.” The tip of the blade dragged between your cleavage to scrape your collarbone and up your neck, the tip pressing against your fluttering pulse below your neck. 

Your voice stuttered in your throat, cursing yourself for your attempt. Tears strained at the corner of your eyes as you arched your head back to strain away from the knife tip, but Bucky followed, always close enough for you to feel the pressure. 

But never close enough to actually split your skin apart, to feel the warm gush of your blood racing away. The threat was there though, a flick of his wrist could split you open. 

“Say it Doll, remind me of what I am.” He demanded again and that is when the words stuttered from you in defeat. 

“A monster Bucky, a monster. You and Steve both.” you sobbed out and he smirked cooly while dropping his head to drag his tongue over a taunt nipple, the blade threatening to press into your jugular so you couldn't move, couldn't even jolt in surprise. 

“A monster that is going to consume you.” He nipped at your nipple, making it sting enough so you let yourself choke on a sob. Sliding further down, his knife started to drag back down your chest, the tip welting your skin enough to scratch a faint line down your body. The only relief of that was the knife wasn’t pressed to your jugular, able to twist your head in just the tiniest big of freedom once more 

“Please don't Bucky…” 

“You don't get to ask for any favors Y/N.” He snapped with a slight bite to the flesh of your belly below your belly button. “You're mine to do what I want with.��� His other hand, the whirl of mechanics gears cut through your harsh breathing whimpers and his grunts as he pressed his nose into the curls on your mound, inhaling your intimate scent deep into his lungs. The cool hand pressed your thighs open wider than they already were, dragging fingers through folds that were dry for now. 

You were too scared to be aroused at the way Bucky treated your body, his promising threats making you distracted. But he wasn't having that, the feel of his digits hurt as he chased that bud. 

“Can’t even get wet for me Doll? Make it easier on yourself?” He taunted as he arched his brow at you. You shook your head a moment to answer and shuddered when he spread your pussy folds apart, admiring the pink flesh for a moment before he spat on you, spreading through your warm core to lube you. 

“Shouldn't matter to me, your comfort.” He informed you while he went back to pressing his mouth close to your core, tendrils of his hair falling forward to pool against the top of your mound, tangling in the curls there. “I should just fuck you raw, right?” Pink tip of his tongue circled your clit, and this time the tiny little bud was starting to throb tenderly, your body did arch on its own accord and he let the knife follow your body's movements, not letting it cut at you.

“Bucky…” You gritted your teeth, hating that you even let it escape. He hummed against your clit, sending a jolt through your system while he suckled and kissed your clit, the sharp tip of the knife sinking slightly into your skin near your hip, dragging down to make a red welt, tiny beads of blood welling up. 

You didn't even notice the slight sting as he flattened his tongue, lapping at your clit in quick flicks. His eyes lifted knowing, watching the heave of your breasts as you tried breathing in deep enough to keep your calm. “Taste so good, I might just stay here all day Doll. Eat you out as long as I want.” Another drag of his tongue through your folds was followed by two quick nicks of the knife tip to your hip, slightly deeper than before, the pleasure of his tongue lapping through your cunt was matched with the stinging sharpness on your hip, both distracting as to what was going on.  

“Wh-what are you doing to me Bucky?” You asked with a watery quiver and he buried his face into your cunt, tossing the knife far enough away that you couldn't reach it and grabbing your hips to stop your squirming, which made you go mindless. 

The sound was downright filthy, his grunts and groans followed with messy sucks and kisses fucking you on his tongue till you were so close, his nose bumping against your clit to keep you rubbing your cunt into his face, wanting more, needing more. 

You were SO CLOSE. 

Clenching on his tongue and your mindless pleases uttered above him, he quickly yanked away just before you crested. Lifting your head with arousal blown pupils, you rocked your hip, trying to get him to put his mouth on you again. But he sat back, the lower half of his face glistening with you. 

His gaze still cold seeing you withering in the hay. “Bucky, please.” 

“You tried to leave Y/N, you don’t deserve to cum. You have to earn that.” He leaned over and was sure to kiss you, full of tongue and teeth so he could spread your taste through your mouth while you were left not reaching any satisfaction, still trying to find your release and wanting to cry for not getting it. 

“Are you leaving me here Bucky?” you whined out when he pulled away, spreading your folds to tease you just a little, the slightest touch making your lids flutter but he yet again never let it get further than that. “That's what heartless fuckers do Y/N, you can stay in the barn.” He pushed to a stand. “My mark though… looks good on you.” Your gaze dropped to your hip, that was really stinging now. You saw streaks of blood welting around a B. 

“You cut me?” You cried out, struggling in your bindings. Bucky gave a nod while going to collect the knife. 

“I marked you Doll. A reminder of who owns you.” He softly said over his shoulder as he headed for the door and left you to lay there, body aching in more ways than one. 

You were back to being helpless and you screamed in absolute frantic frustration, cursing them with everything you could think of and sobbing uncontrollably until you felt like your body was drained of every last drop you had left to offer. 

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Bucky went back into the house. The cold house, it felt empty without your presence in there. His hand shook slightly holding the knife you took from the butcher's block and he tossed it loudly into the sink, little droplets of your blood whisking along the steel harshness and down the drain. 

“A few days out there will remind her.” He muttered to himself, trying to justify his actions. Still he could taste your sweetness on his lips with a dart of his tongue collecting, and a raging hard on in his sweats. It was hard not to fuck you in the hay, to keep you clenching there in heated agony with denial. 

This wasn't what he nor Steve wanted, hell he wanted more of what you two had the day before, lazy days of reading and then cooking for one another. Tiredly he climbed the stairs, heading for a cool shower and jerked off in the shower. Steve had told him that it might take a while till they could convince you that you were right where you belonged. 

Bucky hated this, hated having to break you. But he was good at it. He could be patient. It would be worth it in the end. 

Cold water streamed over his steaming body as he fisted his erection, palm slapping against the shower wall as he pictured you so willingly on your knees, smiling up at him with want. 

One day. 

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How much can a person take till they break? It was a question you were going to find out, as Bucky was set on edging you over and over for days, every time you thought you were able to control that one thing, he proved you wrong. Your body responded to him, each and every time he descended on you, betraying you in the most mindless way. Your muscles screamed in the restraints, wanting to fold on yourself till you were small as possible to combat the fluttering flame that made your lower belly clench now at just the sight of him. 

Your tears, your pleas, did nothing to stop him. Every time he would end it with a clashing kiss and whispered reminder that you were there to do as they wanted, you had no choice. The sooner you submit to that, the better your life would be.  

“You said it yourself Doll, we do what we want, we are monsters.” and he would fit a vibrator against your cunt, taking out a small remote. Even when he wasn't there, he could be in control of you. 

“No, no Bucky, I was wrong.” You tried apologizing to him, dreading the added torture of the vibrator. Bucky just seemed to know you had relaxed and the vibrations would start like a gentle lull in your core, to edge it up slowly, hours of it till your body gave out. 

He knew you were lying to him, trying to find mercy. 

After you felt like you really couldn't take it anymore, you tried to bargain with him. Eyes pleading as you looked up at him. “I promise I can be good, your good girl. You will be so proud of me, please Bucky.” Your voice was so timid, so sweet, so soft. You were giving in to him. 

It almost broke the man, his hands lingering at the ties holding you in place, but his forehead dipped to yours and pressed his lips to yours. He felt you surge, so accepting of it that it gave him hope. 

“Soon Doll… you are almost there.” his fingers curled in you, stroking your fluttering walls till he once more pulled away. 

You were close, so close, so close you thought as your tired wrung out body tensed once more, wanting to crash and held on the edge, denied of pleasure and drained of the will to fight.

Now and then you would fall into fitful sleep, when your body gave out and you sunk into nothing. But it never lasted all that long, always being on edge. You were jerked awake once more by the creak of the door and you expected to see Bucky come back for the sweet torture of your body. 

But it wasn't your dark Bucky coming, no it was golden hair and blue eyed storm, massive as his boots thudded against the old dusty boards of the floor stalking towards you. 

Steve must have just come home because his suit was looking worn for days, his beard a bit more rugged, grown out. He squatted next to you, tracing a finger down your quivering belly where you rolled slightly under his touch, panting slightly as the vibrations started humming through you, Bucky had turned the vibrator back on.

“Oh Sweetheart, do you know how disappointed I am to hear you misbehaved?” Steve tutted as he circled your belly button, pressing a hand against your mound to make the vibrations more intense. 

“I was bad, but I learned, I swear Steve. Let me show Bucky I can be good.” You squirm with a whine. “Just make it stop.” 

He tilted his head, his eyes roving up and down your sweat streaked body, quivering in your restraints. His gaze stopped at the B that had now scarred into your hip, his hand sliding to cover it, his thumb tracing the loops that made up the letter. His jaw clenched slightly, fingers digging into your hip possessively before he pushed to a stand

A sob broke when you thought he was going to leave you laying there but he leaned over you with taunting sush, his fingers worked on the ties. “Hush now Sweetheart, I just came back, you really think I’m leaving you here all alone.” he directed and the ties fell loose, your arms dropping that made you scream at the sudden release. Your muscles having been long stretched in your restraints were burning in relief at being loose, you curled into a fetal position to get rid of the vibrating toy, gasping in relief when you were finally free from it all. Soon your ankles were released and Steve reached down to scoop you into his arms. 

“Promise to behave right Sweetheart?” 

“Yes, please Steve just take me out of here.” You pulled in closer to him, your arms circling his neck and closing your eyes to hide your face against his shoulder. While carrying you out, Steve gave a pleased smile. 

Maybe they finally have you where they want you. Compliant, the perfect housewife. 

Steve brought you into the quiet house and right up the stairs towards your yellow sunflower bedroom. He set you down in front of the bathroom door, nodding towards the over sized shower. “Go start the water and I will be right there.” You give a nod, immediately obeying what he told you to do. 

Steve watched as you carefully walked away from him, sure you were steady on your feet and started to undress from his midnight blue stealth suit. The rush of water sounded off the porcelain tub and a whisk of the curtain told him you were waiting for him. Fisting his hand on his cock a moment to control the throbbing, seeing you all subdued spread eagle in the hay had gotten him worked up, but even more was Bucky's mark on you. You belonged to both of them, seeing you with Bucky's signature, well that made a part of him feral. Needing to lay a claim on you. 

Following you into the tub, he found you standing under the hot spray, head tilted back as it ran rivers down your body, swirling at your feet to escape down the drain. Your skin was turning pink from the heat and Steve reached for your hips, pulling you back into him where he rutted slightly against your plump ass while he brushed his chin against your shoulder. 

The scratch made you inhale sharply, a slight whine rising from the back of your throat. You were so sensitive that your body still ached. “Steve…” 

“Mmhh, you are going to be a good girl for me, I have been gone a long time.” His hands roamed up your body to cover your breasts, kneading and rolling his fingers against your nipples, pulling expertly. “And I know Bucky left you so close, but never quite able to cum, right Sweetheart?” His tone gruff in that way that made you take notice, your body tensing for him; thighs clenching, pussy weeping, breathing coming in pants. He pulled a bit harder when you didn't answer right away. 

“Y-yes Steve.” 

He hummed a bit, turning you to face him, backing you to the wall and pining you between him and the cool tiles. “I’ve missed you, a lot. Missed that sweet mouth of yours.” A kiss pressed to your lips, a swipe of tongue insisting to claim you. Steve didn't give you a choice, he never did. He deepened the kiss and crushed himself into you as his hands grasped your hips and pushed you roughly up to wrap your legs around him, his cock hard between you, pressing heated into your belly. “That image of you on your knees with your lips spread on my cock got me through the nights I was away. I know that sweet cunt is ready for me.” He growled into your mouth as he spread your ass cheeks apart and rutted his hips. “I can just smell how aroused you are.” Steve didn't even try to take it easy when he filled you with a jarring thrust. 

As on edge as you had been for days, the stretch of him burned, made you cry out in a yelp but he bit your lip, sucking the air from you to swallow your cry while he thrusted into you, bottoming himself. “Don't fight this Baby, be my good girl.” 

You nodded harshly in agreement, already your swollen aroused walls squeezing around him, seeking that long denied satisfaction, you grabbed at his back, digging in your nails to hold on as his thrusts pounded into you, each one a powerful breaking force that left you going mindless. Burying your head into his shoulder with sobs of his name, Steve was efficient.

He had fucked you enough times to know what spots made you really break apart. You used to fight against it, prevent that cresting moment that gave him the satisfaction in knowing he owned your ass. 

You didn't even try this time. You squeezed around his driving cock, clawed at his upper back and mixed tears with the water raining down from above you, making your bodies sticky and slippery all at once, hair plastered to your heads. One hand to your hip, his other wrenched your head back, baring his teeth as he grunted with each movement, drops of water catching in his lashes, drizzling down to escape into his darker beard. 

Your own eyes rolled back in your head, your voice breaking with a cry of his name as you creamed around him, your body locking and he smirked with a kiss, fierce, dominating. 

No way he was done with you. 

Pulling out, he dropped you to your feet, easily holding onto you to keep you from falling when he twisted you, your face twisted against the shower tiles and his broad hairy chest pressing into your back as he smacked your ass with his palm, hard enough for you to plead out. 

“Fuck Steve, finish it.” 

“I will when I'm good and ready. Your body is so fucking ready that it will take me however many times I want you, drip my cum from your sweet little pussy all fucking night, because you. are. mine.” he was sure to make his point, his palm tapping against your ass sharply with each word, leaving your skin stinging fiercly. 

You groaned, but did not fight him. They made it clear, you were theirs. His hands wrapped around your hips, his fingers so easily finding that B that was carved into you and digging in harshly. Dropping his head close. “Bucky might have marked you, but you will never forget me once you swell up with my child.” 

And he pulled your hips out, thrusting his cock back into you. You arched your back at the impact with a fatal moan, the moan that made Steve lose it. 

He fucked into you like a man desperate, hips slamming into your ass and his body caged around yours, keeping you pressed into his chest as his mouth worked on your neck and shoulders. One hand kept a hold on your hip, holding you in place while the other roamed your chest, squeezing your tits and pressing onto your stomach. When a hand found a way between your thighs, you broke. 

You felt yourself sag as you came crashing again, and Steve filled you with his seed this time. Sure to pump himself in you over and over even after the hot spurts deep in your clenching core stopped and he panted against your shoulder, finally going still. “Can’t have you lose any Sweetheart.” 

Your eyes squeezed shut as you did your best from losing it entirely, this was your life. You could either fight it and live in some form of torture, or accept it for what it has become. 

Pulling out, he grabbed some soap and suds his hand to run over your body. Compliant, you moved the way he wanted you to, holding onto him to keep your balance. Turning you around to do your back, he mentioned out loud. “You are awful quiet Sweetheart.” 

You tilted your head into the water and stepped away to rinse off, moving aside so he could finish himself. 

��Sorry Steve, what would you like me to say?” 

He hummed as he scrubbed at himself in the shower before he tilted his head. “How about you are happy to see me? I might actually have a surprise for you. Bucky and I both do.” He cranked off the water and stepped out, drying himself rather quickly and wrapped a towel around his hips. As you climbed out, he held out an over sized towel for you to step into, moving down your back and he knelt in front of you, rubbing the back of your thighs and along the inside. 

His fingers followed droplets paths to catch, his lips pressing against your belly, while looking up. “You are beautiful, and will be more so when you are all swollen.” 

It was something you certainly could wait for. Your hands braced back against the sink to keep your balance once more, still feeling weak. In an attempt to change the subject, you looked down at him. 

“You said you had a surprise for me?” He grinned up at you before giving one last kiss to your belly before going to a stand and wrapping you in the towel. 

“It's in my bedroom with Bucky waiting for you.” he directed, gently making you continue when you paused to get dressed in your room. Clutching the towel tighter, you padded down the couple doors towards his bedroom. His door was shut so you waited in front of it while Steve’s oversized palm pressed against it, swinging it open. 

You first saw Bucky, sitting cross legged in the center of the bed. Loud purrs emitted from his lap and your eyes dropped to your curled up cat, sleeping on him with loud purrs, flicks of her tail showing her content. 

“You… you went and got my girl?” Your eyes welled up in surprise, Steve bracing his hands gently against your shoulders to lead you to the bed. 

Bucky looked up from under strands of his hair having fallen forward as he was looking down at your Suga, his fingers grazing through her fur so gently. 

You rushed to kneel on the bed, your hand quivering to reach out and pet her, but then yanked it away, looking between Bucky and Steve for permission. “Go ahead Doll.” Bucky reached out to grasp your chin and make you look at him with a smile. “You earned it.” 

You took this gift, reaching forward to wrap your hands around your cat and lifted her into your arms, pressing your face into her familiar soft fur as she squirmed a bit to get comfortable and then started head butting you with happy meows and kitten licks on your nose and forehead. 

“Where, when... How did you guys get her?” you asked incredulously at this gift. You eased her down onto the bed, while she started to clean herself and settled back down between you and Bucky. 

Bucky nodded over towards Steve who had made his way to his closet and was getting dressed. “Steve picked her up.” 

“On my way back, I swung by your apartment complex. We had all your stuff packed Y/N and put in storage. Your cat was being taken care of till I was able to go collect her.” 

You couldn't help the soft smile at seeing your baby, your fingers scratching just under her chin, taking a shuddering breath. 

“Thank you Steve, Thank you Bucky.” and both the men rumbled a ‘You’re welcome’ back. 

Part of you was so happy to see your cat, but part of you, the part that was desperate, felt your situation just get that much more desolate. 

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It was hours later when Steve checked in on you back in your room, you were curled with your cat on your bedspread, sound asleep for probably the first time in several days. Carefully he closed the door so you could continue sleeping, turning away to go back downstairs where Bucky was to fill him in on his mission. 

As Steve heavily made his way down the stairs, he couldn't hold himself back. “So thought you should just mark our girl?” 

Bucky, who was sprawled on a corner of the couch, book wedged in his hand, he never bothered pausing from his reading. “Can’t be letting her forget who owns her. My method worked didn't it? She was compliant for you, and gave you just what you wanted without a fight. In fact, wasn’t she a bit happy to see you Steve?” 

“She did-” 

“Then you are welcome.” The soldier cut off his friend, flipping the page. Steve’s brows furrowed a bit but let it drop, making his way to the office he had set up in the back of the house, behind a locked door. 

Upstairs your eyes sprang open as soon as Steve shut your door, letting out a relieved whoosh that you were being left along, your body still so sensitive to touch of any kind. Suga shifted closer with a soft meow, head butting you. You scooped her closer, once more burying your face into your cat's soft fur and letting it keep you quiet while a sob broke in your chest, muffling the sound. 

You can’t live like this and you were running out of time before they actually did make you pregnant. 

[vexie-chan]

Stay

-chinhands- I wrote a “break it” scene expansion. Now have a snuggly “fix it” fic-doodle. Thought I’d get this in under the wire before all bets are off tomorrow. I just want to see my favorite found family pair make up. 

2 ep 48 spoilers under the cut, obvs. 

Caleb wraps his coat tighter around himself as quietly as possible, slowly curling into a ball. It’s cold; he wants to summon Frumpkin for extra warmth and comfort, but he doesn’t want to alert Caduceus that he’s still awake. The firbolg is sleeping across the room, but knowing him, he sleeps with one ear open. He and Beau have both been careful of Caleb’s every move. It’s been hard enough to get everyone to let him alone after…after everything that happened today.

              Your people did this to my people.

              Fuck him.

              Caleb bites down hard on his lip, centering his mind on the pain. He reprimands himself sternly. No, don’t think about that. What’s done is done. It was always going to come to this. There was never another way this could have ended. Accept it and move on.

              It’s no good. No matter what he tells himself, the memories don’t stop. There’s a part of him that’s still stunned. For months now, he’s held onto this foolish belief that they would be together until the very end, he and Nott. For so long, it has been just the two of them. Through everything, good and bad (and most of it bad), they stuck together. They had each other at the end of the day. And suddenly all of that gone. Never again will Nott come running with some treasure she’s scavenged for him, or some story to tell. Never again will she put flowers in his hair or ride piggy back. Never again will they pull any of their cons. Never, never, never.

              Never did he imagine that all of that would be over…just like that.

              Fuck him.

              Never did he think it would feel…like this. The emptiness bores into his chest and makes him want to gasp for air, but he doesn’t dare. This isn’t something he wants Caduceus to see.He grips the worn fabric of his coat as tight as his fingers can go, the tips growing numb quickly. He focuses on making his breathing match the breathing of a normal, sleeping human.

              He doesn’t know long he’s laid, focusing on breathing, staring at the shadowy grains of the wooden wall when he hears the door creak open, a sliver of dim light from the hall slashing through the room. He closes his eyes automatically, like a child not wanting to be caught awake after bedtime. Is it Beauregard, here to check on him? She’s been her own special brand of concerned all evening. He remembers her firm grip on his arm, in stark contrast to Caduceus’s light, warm touch on his shoulder.

              “I’d better see you in the morning,” she had said.

              “We will,” Caduceus had replied gently. Beau’s eyes had never left Caleb’s, not fully trusting him to stay.  

              Caleb waits. For several moments, there’s no further sound. Then the door gently closes. She’s gone.

Just when he starts to relax, Caleb hears movement. Slowly, small footsteps pad toward him. It’s a quiet sound, but each familiar footstep makes Caleb’s heart beat harder. The footsteps stop right by his bed.

Silence.

              Breathe in, hold, and out, Caleb thinks desperately to himself, not daring to move. Other parts of his mind are screaming other things that he tries to ignore.  

              Nothing happens for several minutes. Just breathing and Caleb’s heart hammering in his chest. Can she hear it?  It’s so loud.

              A small, achingly familiar hand touches his back—hesitant at first, pulling back (just like when they first met), and then more firmly.

              Caleb holds his eyes shut tightly and counts to ten. Then he lets go of the breath he’s holding and slowly turns over. He opens his eyes.  

              Nott is there. She’s right there watching him, golden eyes wide in the dark, one hand curled around the other as if she’s just pulled it out of a burning fire. There’s a slight tremor, as though she’s trying to keep from full-on shaking. Other than that, she doesn’t move. She just stands and looks at him, her face unsure.

              They stare at each other for a moment.

              Fuck him.

              Not sure if it’s the right thing to do, Caleb scoots backward, making more room. A cautious invitation. He hears Nott breathe in, the tiniest of gasps. She places her hands on the edge of the mattress, then pulls back, hesitating. He watches her face. He hasn’t seen this much apprehension from her for a very long time. It was a slow process for her to believe he was really okay with her even holding his hand when he used Frumpkin’s sight. He worked in tiny steps, making sure she was comfortable, until she was finally convinced that he didn’t mind her being close to him.

It feels like they are back to square one...strangers to each other once more.

              Your people.

              Slowly, as if she’s a wild animal he doesn’t want to frighten, Caleb uncurls one of his hands and extends it to her, beckoning. She looks at him again, takes a deep breath, and climbs up onto the bed. She stays on the very edge, careful not to touch him. The space between them on the narrow twin bed feels like miles.

              I got scared of the skeleton so I came over here.  

              How long ago was that? When Caleb and Nott slept in a cellar in Zadash when they had first found the Beacon? He’d dreamt of all of those different roads of possibility and…peace. It had been startling when he’d woken, but there was Nott, curled against his legs. She was often found there when he had nightmares or strange dreams. She always knew.

              It feels wrong, her staying so far away. He wants to pull her close. How many nights out in the woods had they slept like that? Him curled around her, her curled around Frumpkin. A skinny, malnourished tangle of warmth. That’s how they survived those frigid nights until it became a comforting habit that continued into the spring and summer. Even after they could afford a room with two beds, they slept like that more often than not, especially after a long day or a hard battle.

              But that was then. Now…

Caleb stays perfectly still. It doesn’t matter how cold and lonely he is now. It doesn’t matter how much he wants to hold her tight and plead for her forgiveness. He doesn’t have the right to ask anything of her now, least of all that. He takes a deep breath and gives her what he hopes is a friendly nod.

              You can stay as long as you like, he tries to tell her without speaking. You are free to do as you please.  

              She’s still watching him, as if she’s not sure what he’ll do.

              It’s been a long time since she’s been afraid of him like this. Is it because she knows what he is now? What he can do? What he’s done? Does she see the monster he really is now?

              Your people. You.

But…then why is she here?

              I will not harm you, he had promised that first night. Does she know that’s still true?

              Does it matter?

              This strangeness makes him want to scream. He wants to beg her to say what she came to say, or do whatever it is she came to do, but he can’t. The silence is unbearable.  

              “Well…Gute nacht,” Caleb whispers, trying to clear it. It doesn’t feel right. Nott flinches as if he’d shouted.

              What does she want? Why is she here? What is he supposed to do? She’s watching him and not saying anything and it’s almost unbearable.

              Caleb hesitates, then turns back over to face the wall. For just a moment, he feels the relief of not seeing her eyes burning into him. But then he hears another small intake of breath. Wrong.

              He’s messed it up again somehow. He waits for her to leave. His ears strain for her footsteps padding back toward the door, the quiet creak. He waits for the gaping hole that is his future to take back over.  

              He stiffens when he feels the lightest touch of her back against his. She’s curled in the opposite direction. They’re barely touching, but the point of contact burns, reminding him that she’s there.  

              Caleb stares at the wall, not knowing what to do. He’s barely breathing, trying to force himself to relax. Then he feels Nott start to shake, ever so slightly. He hears the smallest sniffle in the dark. Something shifts in his heart. He never has been able to stand it when she cried.

              Fuck him. Well, fuck him twice, then. Enough of this.

              Without hesitation, Caleb turns back to face Nott, pulling her in to close and curling around her like he’s done so many nights before. He wraps her in his coat, tucking her in with him and holding her with his outside arm. Just like they used to sleep. But instead of Frumpkin, Nott catches Caleb’s other arm and pulls it to her chest, holding it tight. Her tears are hot on his hand. He bows his head over hers and just holds her while she cries.

              It might not be right, but it’s not wrong, either. It’s a little better.  

For several minutes, they stay like that.  

              “I was so scared, Caleb. I still am. I’ve never been this scared—not even when we were underwater,” Nott whispers finally. “I didn’t think it was even possible to feel this scared.”

              “I know, I—”

              Nott shakes her head and Caleb silences, waiting.  

              “It was just so much all at once. Everyone was looking at me and I’m not…I’m not like you or Fjord. I don’t know what to do. I’m no captain. I just…want him back,” she continues. “Yeza…I…he’s important. To me. And I never thought anything like this would happen. He was always so careful and smart. I thought he would stay safe. Sure, I was worried that this town would be affected by what was happening but I never… I…when I saw the house I just…I hadn’t even imagined…I couldn’t even think straight.”

              This time Caleb waits without being told. Your people. Your fault.

              Nott takes a deep, shaky breath and squeezes his arm.

              “But I didn’t mean to…I don’t want to lose you, too,” she says, barely audible, whispering the words against his palm. “When I came here, I thought you might already be gone.”

              Caleb carefully sets his chin atop her head.

              “Nein. I am not going anywhere,” he promises, trying to make his voice as comforting as possible. “I am here.”

              “You…you weren’t, though,” Nott says, shifting in his arms. “You weren’t with me back there, Caleb. You weren’t there. You were running already. I could…I could see it. You still want to run, don’t you?”

              Caleb closes his eyes.

              “You are right. I want to run. I am scared, too. Terrified,” he says. “I expected to see war, but I did not expect…m-my people to be this close. I did not expect my people to be the ones to hurt your people.”

              Nott sighs.

              “I…I am sorry for what I said. I was just so…angry and scared and you weren’t there. I needed you, and you weren’t there,” she says. She stretches up to gently butt his chin with the top of her head. “I still need you, you know that, right?”

              The warmth that ignites in Caleb’s chest burns, like your fingers and toes when you’ve been out in the cold for too long and then dip them in warm water. It’s more pain than comfort.

              Fuck him.

              “I…did not know if you…” he stammers, then swallows hard. The tears he’d held back before rush forth now, stealing his breath away.

              “Caleb?” Nott looks up, alarmed.

              “I am so sorry, Nott. For everything,” Caleb whispers. “You do not need to accept that apology now or…or ever, if you want. But know that I am so sorry for what…for what my people have done to you and your…your people. I am sorry for what I have done in my past and today, though I know…I know it means nothing. You know what I am now. You know why…why I’m unforgivable. Now, at last, you understand.”  

              Nott bites his hand. Hard. He bites off a strangled yell.

              “You’re a big stupid human, you know that?” Nott says. She pushes back so she can look at him. Stunned, he looks back at her. With a shake of her head, she reaches up and wipes the tears off his face.

              “It wasn’t about that stuff. I already told you, didn’t I? What happened to you back then wasn’t your fault. I’m not afraid of that,” she says. “But now…you have a chance to do something about all of that bad stuff those people caused. You have a chance to make some of it right again.”

              Those people. Your people. Those people.  

              You’re the solution here. We’re here to fix this.  

              “Nott, I don’t…I don’t know how much I can do. I am a risk here. There is a big red target on my back. These people…that man…” Caleb takes a steadying breath. “If we do this and…and Ikithon finds you, you will die. But if he finds you with me, you will die slowly and painfully. Because of me. To punish me. I can’t stand the thought of that happening, Nott. I can’t. I can’t do that to you.”

              Nott’s eyes widen. Even in the darkness, Caleb sees her pale. He shudders.

              “I’m a dangerous person to have around for this particular situation. The best thing I can do for you is run and pray they don’t find out that I was ever with you,” he says.

              He doesn’t add that he’s a dangerous person to have around regardless of the situation. That he never should have been foolish enough to think he could have companions—to have friends.

              “No! Don’t run,” Nott says, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Please, Caleb. Don’t run when you know I can’t go with you.”

              “Go with…You would still come with me?” Caleb asks, startled.

              “Yes, of course,” Nott says. “After we find Yeza and make sure he’s safe, if you want to go, I’ll go with you anywhere you want. Just please stay with me now.”

              “We are…still friends, then?”

              It’s Caleb’s voice, but it’s so small and vulnerable and wistful, like Nott has never heard it. She snuggles back close, wrapping her arms around him.

              “Yes, of course. Of course we’re still friends,” she says softly. “We never weren’t.”

              Caleb buries his face in her hair. He’s not cold anymore. He’s so incredibly warm he could almost burst from it.

              “I will stay,” he whispers. “For you, I will stay. I will do whatever is in my power to make things right. I will do my best to keep us safe.”

              He would promise her anything she asked for right now. The moon, every star in the sky, anything.

              “Thank you,” Nott says. “And when it’s over, we can go if you want to.”

              “When it’s over,” Caleb repeats.

              If they survive, his mind whispers.

              “You know I love you, don’t you, Caleb? You know that, right?” Nott says, nuzzling his chest.

              He knows, but it’s harder to believe. Harder to maintain. He’ll hear her cold, angry “Fuck him!” in his dreams for a very long time. It’s what he deserves. It’s the truth. Just as he’s always known.

              But Caleb presses his lips to the top of her head.

              “And I love you, too, Nott the Brave,” he says.

              That, too, is true. The truth of it almost surprises him, but it feels old and familiar, like he’s known it all along. He may be horrible and broken and a monster, but he loves her. Somehow, there’s room for both of those things to be equally true. And that’s something.

                Beauregard is waiting outside the door when Caduceus quietly opens it the next morning. She opens her mouth in alarm when he appears alone, but Caduceus shakes his head, holding his finger to his lips. With a small smile, he opens the door wider and motions for her to look inside.

              Caleb and Nott are still asleep, tangled in each other’s arms. For once, both of their faces hold a peaceful look. It takes years off Caleb.

              Caduceus shuts the door.

              “I know we have a lot to do and a lot to talk about today, but I thought we should let them sleep,” he says quietly. “I think they need it.”

              “Yeah. Yeah, I think they’ll be okay if we go ahead and start breakfast,” Beau agrees, nodding.

              The two of them walk down the hall, leaving Nott and Caleb to sleep peacefully just a little longer. Just the two of them. Just as it’s been. Just as they’ll stay. 

[siodymph]

Science Bros Request 2

Ok this is my last request for now! From justtopostmyfic (on AO3) “My favorite scenes are like this, where Bruce and Tony are alone, together, and happy. Would you consider taking a request of hungover!Tony/comforting Bruce?”.

Absolutely! This one was a lot of fun because it gave me a good excuse to go rewatch the first two iron man films for all the wasted Tony scenes, which was a lot of fun to do directly after seeing the new spider-man movie. Tony sure has come a long way lol. Thank you again for your request!

And I think that’s it for this Science bros fan-week! Thank you everyone so much for reading and supporting my stuff. And hope you guys keep an eye out for some of the stuff I’ll be writing in the near-future!

You can read the story under the cut or over on my AO3!

word count: 1338

Bruce went back to Tony’s room to check on him again around 11 am. The room was nearly pitch black, except for the faintest sliver of sunlight that Friday let leak into the room. As he stepped into the room his eyes quickly adjusted. Last night Bruce had carefully put Tony to bed, making sure his head was tilted to the side and neatly tucking him in. Now the sheets were pulled out, pillows and blankets were scattered all over the place. And somehow during the night he managed to wrap himself up into a giant cocoon.

Setting down the water and pills he brought with him, Bruce got closer to the cocoon. He reached for Tony’s shoulder. Or at least the part of the mound of blankets that looked the most shoulder-like.

“Heyyyy champ, how are you holding up?” Bruce said, shaking him a little.

He didn’t get any real answer. Just a muffled groan and the cocoon squirmed around.

“Come on Tony.” Bruce sighed as he pealed back some of the layers blankets. “Where’s your face?”

He heard Tony groan again before finally uncovering his head. His hair was ruffled up in every direction. When he looked up at Bruce he barely even opened his eyes.

“Hmmmm?”

Bruce fiddled around with the sheet still in his hands. “How are you feeling Tones?”

“Alive? I think.” Tony replied before burrowing back into his covers. “God it’s been a while since I drank that much.”

“Can you even remember last night?” Bruce asked, nudging at Tony’s cocoon to get him to come back up.

He begrudgingly popped back up and Bruce gestured to the water on the night stand. As Tony spoke he grabbed the glass and took tiny sips of water. “Bits and pieces. Mostly the beginning. I paced myself in the beginning… It gets spotty after I joined you, and Thor, and his little warrior squad.”

“Yeah… Things got a little out of hand after that.”

That immediately made Tony nervous and he sat a little straighter. “Hey I didn’t do anything stupid last night, right? Cause Peter and his Aunt were there.”

“No, you were alright. After you switched to Asgardian mead you stayed on that side of the party.” Bruce explained gently. The two had stuck together pretty much the entire night and the worst thing Tony did was let his personal censor slip. And that had never been that strong to begin with. “And if it makes you feel any better. Peter left the party early on so he never saw anything. And when you did get shit-faced, you were around Thor’s team and they couldn’t have cared less.”

Their whole side of the party had been pretty inebriated towards then end of the party, but at least they had all kept to themselves for the most part. That and only one table had been broken so Bruce considered that some sort of success. There was only so much he could do being one human-sized person watching out for a whole group of drunk Norse warrior gods and one drunk billionaire.

“Good.” Tony said, relieved and relaxing back into his cocoon again.

“It was kind of funny actually. Someone brought up the Bifrost and you started ranting about teleportation and the laws of physics. They all looked at you like you had a third eye, you were completely wasted but everything you were saying was correct. And they all just sat there listening to you. It was probably the quietest our end of the party got all night.” That was still one of Bruce’s favorite moments at their party.

“Huh, that sounds cute. You take a picture or anything? I’m sure Thor would love that.” Tony asked.

“I should have.” Bruce said sighing. While it had happened he got so caught up in Tony’s argument, but by the time he thought of collecting some blackmail they had already moved on.

Tony seemed a little disappointed but quickly brushed it off. “That’s too bad. Couldn’t you just see it? We get together all the worst photos of everyone we can find. Put’em in a scrap book... Not right now though.”

Bruce hummed in response and for a little while the conversation died off. Tony kept drinking his water in the tiniest sips possible, Bruce wondered if he was even drinking any water at this point. But Tony seemed alright, so Bruce let him be. He didn’t even realize he’d zoned out until Tony nudged at his arm from under his blanket.

“Hey Bruce? I gotta ask, you ever miss drinking?”

Bruce shrugged. “Not really. I didn’t drink much, even before the accident.”

Tony gave him a look. “Really?”

“Yeah, I never liked losing my inhibitions. Plus it always tasted awful.” Bruce said. He never had been the biggest on parties either.

“I could see that. Still, don’t you get sick of always being designated driver? For like, everything?” Tony said as he finished off his water.

“Hey, I get to remember all the dumb shit you do.” Bruce replied back.

That made Tony laugh. But it quickly ended with him wincing and rubbing at his head. “At least someone does…”

“You want me to get you anything?” Bruce asked carefully. He’d heard his fair share of half-assed hangover cures, and from everything he saw in college and beyond none of them truly worked. “Painkillers?”

“Could you? Cause I think I’m gonna die.” Tony said, falling back onto the bed.

Bruce brought a hand up to Tony’s forehead and brushing through his hair. “Can do. Anything else?”

Tony closed his eyes and struggled to think of anything else he might want. “Uhh, I don’t remember eating anything last night so I should probably have something.”

“Probably.” Bruce agreed. As he pulled his hand away he saw how Tony grumbled and sank back into his blankets. “I’ll be right back.”

Bruce padded out of the room to go find everything Tony wanted, along with another glass of water. Most hangover-cures Bruce had heard of were bullshit but staring hydrated was important. And when he got to the kitchen he tried to find something plain Tony’s stomach could manage. When he came back to the room with water, painkillers, some toast and a banana Tony had fully reverted to his cocoon state. And after a little bit of pressing from Bruce, he managed to get Tony to crawl back out take the pills and eat a little bit of the banana.

“Feeling any better now?”

“A little bit. My head finally stopped hurting.” Tony said. “You wanna go out?”

“Seriously? You said you were going to die five minutes ago.” Bruce gave him an incredulous look.

“Hey I’m a dramatic guy! I like my extremes.” Tony said raising his hands in defense. “Besides, this is nothing compared to when I was younger. When I first took over Stark Industries I’d be at parties in Milan, hop on a plane and make it to San Francisco for nine ‘o’clock board meetings. All I had to do was slap myself a few times and I was good to go.”

“Nice. I hate to break it to you but you aren’t in your twenties anymore.” Bruce said dryly though he was smiling.

“Oh god don’t I know it...” Tony grumbled.

Bruce tried to get him to eat the toast but Tony refused. Instead he broke free from his cocoon and kicked his legs off the edge of the bed. “Come on, let’s go do something! You wanna get brunch? I have no idea what time it is but we can go find a place still serving breakfast.”

“You’re eyes are going to be so sensitive.”

“Then I’ll wear sunglasses. Come on, Bruce!”

Bruce thought it over before sighing. “Fine. But don’t start whining when you step outside and everything’s too bright.”

Tony dragged himself out of bed, still in his button-up shirt and dress pants from last night, and pulled Bruce into a hug.

“Don’t worry, I think I’ll survive.”

[gigiree]

Disconnect (1)

A/n: You are inside of time and outside of oblivion. You remember all the resets. And you can’t do anything about them, because you are not her. You are not MC. And he does not love you. —

The city is strangely monotone tonight. Or perhaps it’s simply your anticipation settling over your hearing like a nervous haze, blunting the usually piercing sounds.

Exhaustion seeps deep into your marrow, and you absently swipe through your social media accounts, blindly taking in the current events.

It’s already close to midnight. You would have been home several hours ago, but still your feet find themselves glued to the sidewalk. You’re standing just a few meters away from the entrance of an obviously luxury penthouse. The wide glass panels that scale up the side reflect that brightness of the street lamps and if you squint, it kind of looks like space.

It was like this the last loop too. You had been in the right place, the right time to help them. To help her…to help him.

Sure enough, your hearing finally clears as the commotion from an upper floor precedes the shattering of a window.

Your heartbeat quickens. Your legs tense, and you’re aware of the pain that’s coming.

You run to catch the delicate figure that arcs through the air. Bits of glass dangerously fall around you with laughing clinks.

Her long brown hair trails after her, and she looks remarkably like a shooting star against the flaring city lights.

You calculate it just right. Sharp pain lances through your arms as she lands roughly on you. But you do better this time. You use your own weight to break the momentum, biting back a shout of pain as you roll both her and you across the ground for a bit, dissipating the impact.

Distantly, beyond the pain that makes you sob and her harsh breathing, you hear them call her.

“MC!”

Stars burst behind your eyelids, and you try and regulate your breathing to stop your sobs.

She’s stirring against your broken body, a string of apologies for you breaking from her.

“I just wanted….I don’t know…I’m so sorry ..I wanted to be free.” She cries, and you try to offer a smile, to say something comforting…really you do, but if you open your mouth, you’re going to scream.

It was Jumin’s route. It was Jumin’s penthouse she’d jumped from. Jumin’s concerns and possessiveness that had driven her to make the leap.

It was Jumin’s money that brought you here to the luxury hospital suite. A room which, even as a physician at this hospital, you’ve rarely had the chance to see. Both your arms wrapped in thick white casts and your cracked ribs wrapped up expertly. You even have a few bandages around your neck and on your cheeks covering where the glass had cut.

The sheets are nice. Probably a very high thread count and they’re a pretty creamy shade. Not the stark white ones you’re so used to seeing your patients in.

You’re hopped up on pain meds, and the whole situation seems a bit funny as you begin to laugh.

You laugh so you don’t break in more ways than you have.

Your lips twitch into a smile, slightly hurting because they’re so dry. You close your eyes for a bit more, lamenting the bright sun that sweeps cheerfully into your room.

“You’re finally awake.”

You know that voice. You’d know in a million different universes.

Opening your eyes is going to hurt if Seven is here. Because in some ways, he’s brighter than the sun…and unrequited affection is a troublesome thing to hide when he’s so observant.

Still, you do a pretty good job of pretending that you don’t know him.

You let your eyes open again, just the tiniest sliver. The room is a scene done in watercolors through your half gaze, and the shock of red hair leaning against the plush claret colored armchair is a lot less jarring than it was the first time.

“Who are you?” You ask quietly, your voice slinking past your parched throat with difficulty.

(You know who he is, of course. It’s hard to forget the man you’ve dedicated half your time to.)

He stands up without a word and pours you water from a glass pitcher at the end table closest to him.

His golden eyes glimmer with a deep gratitude. There’s slight amusement that accompanies his look as your struggle to sit up.

But it’s a useless endeavour with both your arms wholly buried in their casts. You end up flopping on the bed, rolling from side to side like a turtle on its back.

His laugh is warm..lovely. It sends unwelcome tendrils of affection lacing through your chest. Your eyes open fully when he carefully slips an arm behind your back and props you up slowly.

It’s painstakingly careful. The way he handles you, the way he pauses with trembling anxiousness when you hiss out in pain.

His other hand holds the frigid edge of the glass to your lips.

“Drink. Please.” He says haltingly, and you wonder why there’s that distance in his eyes now. The kind that let’s you know that his cogs are whirring against each other, rapidly chewing up any and all information he can gather.

You drink gratefully, swallowing huge gulps nearly embarrassingly and some of it dribbles down your chin.

His face warms considerably as you try and wipe your face against your shoulder, but the thin hospital gown is no good and you try and protest as he uses the sleeve of his black jacket to do so.

“Thank you.” You mutter, and decide that this is as much illumination as you can take without the light burning your feelings onto your face.

He chuckles and sets you back against the probably swan feather pillows.

He treats you like an old friend…but that’s probably entirely because you’d just saved the love of his lifetimes.

(He loves her. Always. Unfailingly. No matter whose route it is.)

“I am 707. Defender of Justice.” He announces abruptly, that beloved humor of his slipping over his expression to bury whatever it is he’s thinking.

You laugh again. Only more carefully to avoid hurting your ribs.

“That’s a unique name. My name is ____. It’s uh…nice to meet you, Defender of Justice.”

(It’s such a safe answer. Said as easily as if it had been programmed into you. But it’s not because you’ve been practicing how you would respond to him ever since the loop restarted.)

Before you can say anything else. He lets that broad smile fall. Lets his eyes remain entirely serious and earnest behind his orange striped glasses.

It’s almost too much when the tears bead his lashes and he crumples back into the armchair.

He buries his face in his hands, his voice muffled as he speaks.

“Thank you…thank you for saving her. I don’t know…I’m so grateful…if you ever need a favor…anything…I’ll be there…just ask.”

You know you’ll never ask for a favor. That’s just not the kind of person you are…but you are glad he’s happy. You’re glad she’s alive.

But some secret part of you…the selfish part you rarely ever indulge…hopes with all its horrible might that this time line stays.

That maybe she and Jumin make up. That maybe she’s found the one she wants to stay for.

But you can’t let yourself wish for that. Ever.

You don’t say anything then. You let his tears dry up without a word, and you merely wave away his thanks with a distant response.

“I won’t just let her die. It wasn’t right, even if…even if she would have been fine. Is she…is she okay now?”

(You don’t notice that the tenses of your words don’t mesh. They don’t fit. Just like you.)

Seven looks at you with the strangest mix of confusion and comprehension, but then he relaxes and tells you that apart from a few broken bones and a broken heart, MC is recovering nicely.

He looks like he wants to say more, but the door bursts open, and you’re swept away by a tide of gratitude that comes in the forms of the rest of the RFA members piling into the room.

You almost feel like you’re suffocating. You’re not used to attention. There’s entirely too little air to share with everyone,and blessed, wonderful Jaehee notices this right away.

She corrals an excited Yoosung and an effusive Zen away from your bedside. Seven hangs around the back of the group, fading into the backdrop a lot more than you’d like to think.

(It’s as if he’s waiting to disappear.)

“Thank you so much for saving our friend.” Yoosung says quietly, and somehow, he’s contained all that excitement and shoved it into the sweetest expression.

“We really….we’re blessed that you were there for her. Thank you so much.” Zen chimes in, unusually subdued now that he can get a good look at your face. He hands you a bunch of yellow daffodils, the pink cellophane crinkling as he sheepishly notices that both of your arms are out of commission.

“Sorry.” He says, placing them delicately on the bedside table. You try and give him a small reassuring smile.

“It’s fine. Your charm is uh just a little disarming.” you remark offhandedly.

And that does it. The laughter ripples through them, something gentle and relieved.

Your voice gets caught in your throat again, and they’re all so wonderful. But they’re not your friends.

You’re an intruder into a series of events that spiral and latch onto these wonderful people like a weed.

And you’ve never been the best gardener. You’re so used to letting the weeds overrun your garden, choking out the vivacity of your flowers.

You’re worried you’ll mess this up again…but the antique clock..the one encased in cherry wood…marks the passage of time.

The door creaks open one more time. It’s Jumin.

He’s smoothing down the lapel of his immaculate suit, and if you hadn’t known any better, you wouldn’t have been able to see that he was downright tired and sad.

You want to glare at him, but he’s brought you the best care and he already looks shattered and you supposedly don’t know anything.

But if MC is heartbroken, this isn’t the ending that will stay.

—- You were right. It happened overnight. You all went back to about ten days ago.

The sun sieves in through your gauzy curtains, and you bury your tears into your pillow.

Here we go again. —-

It’s getting hard to remember when time started going in circles for you.

Monotony was not a thing you particularly enjoyed, but it’s what your life had spiraled into.

It was the same shifts at work. The same things said. The same people flitting in and out of your days that had clued you in to what was going on.

But no one else had seemed to noticed.

You’d seemed to have disconnected from the general consciousness of time. You were a lone cog spinning misguidedly in place…careening into a dim little place where you could never see different stars.

But you hadn’t been alone when you realized it. You’d been so close to falling apart, lost as to how to get out of an looping existence.

You hadn’t known anything, and you’d simply ambled across the city after work. Your hands tucked into pockets of your gray jacket.

The rain was misty and cold, and your red scarf hung uselessly around your neck. Your wet hair was plastered to your forehead and yet the frigid night could hardly touch you. You were deeply distant. Withdrawing from a reality that made no sense.

Disconnected because it hurt to much to think about a future if the same days repeating.

Your feet were the only things you really took notice of, letting your boots slips harmlessly into puddles on the sidewalk.

Somewhere through your haze, you had recognized the striking of a bell. A gentle, wavering toll that resounded in your chest and threaded through your muscles until you were walking in that direction.

You’d never been a particularly religious person. You’d never been a regular at your family’s place of worship and the concept of something beyond the stars was a little hard for you to fathom

So it was with no small amount of surprise that you had found yourself in front of a pristine white little church. It was tucked in between two high rises, nearly hidden behind a copse of great oaks and the bell sang merrily beyond them.

But this was something different. A change of pace. The only thing changing on a haze of looping days.

The cold was beginning to numb your nose and without more deliberation, you went up the pathway and quietly slipped past the open doors.

And you thought that at eleven o’ clock on a weekday night, it would just be you and the priest.

But someone else was there. A lonely figure bent over in a pew, his hands clasped and his head bowed towards the giant cross at the front of the aisle.

You didn’t really pay him any mind. The only thing vaguely outstanding about his appearance had been that bright red hair, like sunset on a roses, a few residual raindrops catching the light.

Still, you needed to be next to a person. Because the people you love and know had slowly been drifting into predictable patterns. You feared the silent curiosity that makes you test their responses, that made you mess with the order of things to see if you could get different reactions on the same day.

You didn’t look at him as you slid into the front pew and settled yourself in the corner closer to the middle aisle.

He shifted a little, and you could feel his gaze on you, but you had already clasped your hands in your lap and bent your head.

You were not really praying. You were too busy thinking. Your eyes closed against the gilded brightness of the altar. There was a barely settled peace that crested your emotions, and you finally felt the stays in your heart fray open, letting your despair fill you to the brim.

The tears spilled past your tightly shut eyelids, and you bit your bottom lip to stop the strangled sobs.

You hoped the only other person here won’t notice.

But maybe you wanted him too. You wanted someone…anyone to act differently from a preset pattern.

And he did.

He had been remarkably silent as he had stood up and settled in closer to your end of the pew.

Something is pressed into your loosely twined fingers. The small package crinkled merrily, almost reassuringly and surprise pried open your eyes until all you saw was a starry flare of red. Followed by kind golden eyes behind ridiculously striped glasses.

His smile was soft as he nods to the package of tissues he’s placed in your hands.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, and you recoiled a bit, wariness making your breath hitch.

He was so patient with you and you merely nodded, the nonsense explanation of being stuck in a time loop knotted in your throat.

You swallowed it down, and replaced it with a hasty “thank you” as you opened the tissues and used one to dab at your raw cheeks.

He waited.

“It seems like you have some tissues to work out.” He ventured, and his smile this time was edged with mischief.

Something different. Something disconnected from the patterns and you responded in kind.

“Thank you. It never crossed my mind that a church was a good place do that.” You said with a watery smile and a pointed glance at the silver crucifix hanging on a delicate chain against his black jacket.

He laughed and you suddenly felt a little shy, so you turned your gaze down into the pile of tissues you were starting to wrinkle in your nervousness.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He settled quietly, his laughter bitten off into a careful question.

Again, the cogs within you spun uselessly, grinding painfully against your reason and logic.

You were silent for long enough to make him anxious. He wasn’t too close and wasn’t too far. A good, respectful distance.

It was almost adorable. The way he raised his hands in front of him, his smile straining as he tried to explain himself.

“I know I’m just a stranger. I’m sorry, this is a little weird, but it’s just…I’m usually alone here and this is different…and sometimes…it really helps to talk about things…even just a little. I mean usually a priest would be a better option, but he stepped out for a bit and…”

His explanation wound down into a frustrated sigh, his hands threading through his unruly hair.

It was your turn to laugh. It was a horrid shattered thing, a shard of humor stained with gray. But it was sharp enough to cut a window into reality.

And through your haze, you found your words tumbling out.

“I’m stuck. I can’t move forward. I’m trapped and I can’t do anything about it.”

He was surprised, that was for sure. He hadn’t expected you to answer and he fidgeted a bit with the headphones settled around his neck, contemplating.

“I know the feeling.” He finally answered.

You couldn’t say more. He would think you insane for the full explanation, but you supposed your small confession sufficed.

There was a certain lightness to your chest. A bit more room for air to fill your lungs.

“But there’s always a way…to move forward. There’s always something you can do. You can figure it out. Whatever is causing you to feel this way, you have to first find out why it’s keeping you stuck.” He said.

And it was the clarity of his statement, the absolute total obviousness of it all, that formed your epiphany from gray desperation.

He did not know what do when you burst into tears once again. But this time, you cried because there’s relief.

A direction you could move in. You made a decision to solve the puzzle, even if you would be alone.

For now, there was a beautifully bewildered person next to you and the rain outside is desolate, but you were warm.

He didn’t introduce himself that time. The time line had reset the next day, but you were filled with hope. —

The problem with hope is that it wanes so easily.

The loops pass without much change. You gather your knowledge, but you make mistakes.

You’re an outsider, floating helplessly in a dangerous tide.

There’s a strange organization. A boy with bleached with white hair that looks a lot like the one you hide your feelings for.

There’s good endings and bad endings. The one thing they all have in common is that none of them stick.

The day you’ve had enough is the day you decide to wrap a red scarf around the bottom half of your face and pull the hood of your yellow raincoat low over your face.

It’s the day you arrive an hour earlier to the church than you did the first time. The day you deliberately avoid meeting 707 and you place a hastily sealed envelope in the corner of the pew where he always sits.

The priest, a kind faced old man with a graying beard, watches you quietly as you slip away into the rain.

You wonder what the answer to the question you left behind will be.

—

Seven receives a mysterious message. It’s something that sparks a realization, something terrifying that shreds through every other mundane and deadly worry that’s plagued him until now.

The envelope is nondescript, the writing unfamiliar. It sits innocently enough on his usual seat.

The priest isn’t around to ask about it, and stuff like this is usually tied to something sinister.

But there’s a really bad drawing of a cat on the underside and that’s somehow less reassuring.

The contents shatter his usually controlled emotions, and make him feel so tired. His thoughts fray and he feels disconnected.

‘I’m so sorry. She chose someone else again. At least the party sounded like it went well. And Yoosung will be able to see again…soon.

What path do we follow tomorrow, 707?’