#back to just. the knowledge that im still fucking stuck here. and i will be until it happens. yk. i play video games tomoass the time until

[connormoving]

its so embarassing likee. going to talk abt a feeling you have but you already know ppl will be like Oh that sounds like depression lol and its like. well yes . i know . trust me i am so aware i am depressed . but its still like a thing ive been thinking abt and wanting to talk abt but ik itll just be like Ok hun 👍. idk idk what response i would want tho ig FNFNFNF

[ohtobeleah]

Purgatory // Jack Abbot

Part 2of2

Summary: A patient brought in with the Pittfest mass casualty event experiences a psychosis of some sort. Jack Abbot doesn’t know it, but while he’s elbow deep in saving some guy's bowel…you’re attacked while just trying to help.

Warnings: Jack Abbot x Nurse!reader. Violence against women. Angst/whump.mediocre medical knowledge. Hurt!reader. Established relationship. Age gap marriage. Older male x younger reader. Ambiguous ending.

Word Count: 5.8k

Author Note: Welp, it's great this storyline is finally out of my brain. Please enjoy the hurt/comfort. This took longer than originally expected to finish, so im glad you stuck around for it.

Previous Chapter

At the end of the day, the experience of practising medicine bears little resemblance to the dream. Jack Abbot went into medicine because he wanted to save lives. He went into medicine because he wanted to do good. 

He went into medicine for the rush, the high, for the ride. 

But what he tends to remember at the end of most days are the losses. When he lies awake at night, he replays the pain he caused or failed to cure. The lives he ruined or failed to save. So the experience of practising medicine, for Jack Abbot, that is, rarely resembles the goal. 

The experience is, too often, ass-backwards and upside down. 

And then, somehow, improbably and when you least expect it, the world rights itself again…

“She’s stable,” Two words that keep hope alive in Jack’s heart against all the odds. “For now, but it’s been touch and go, you know how it goes.” It was one of the ICU doctors who spoke to Jack like a colleague and not just another family member. 

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Jack replied. He stood firm with his arms crossed over his chest. “An infection?” He frowned, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that you had gotten worse before his very eyes. You were showing all the right signs of recovery. And then you coded…

The ICU, room one, bed one. Arguably, the most important room in the entire hospital. Reserved for critical patients on the brink. The touch and goes. 

“SSI’s just sprint.” Your primary physician spoke as he shrugged his shoulders, mimicking Jack’s stance and body language as the pair watched you with an intensity that would have made anyone uncomfortable. “I’m optimistic, she’s healthy, young,” Jack caught the way that word fell from his colleague’s mouth. It had always been a topic of conversation around the hospital. The age gap between the two of you. It was no secret that Jack was nineteen years your senior. 

“She thinks you’re an arrogant son of a bitch, you know?” Jack wasn’t shy about the way he said it. He wanted Adam to know what you thought of him, even if he played a helping hand in saving your life. Because in reality? Regardless f he was a great doctor, he was still a fucking prick or a thing. 

“All I’m saying is, she was healthy before she was injured, she’s strong, has good odds even given the current circumstances.” You occupied the space like a ghost haunting an old, decrepit house with a tragic story just for the history books. “When she wakes up, she can tell me to my face.” 

“I put in a transfer to work nights here for a while.” The ICU had its own rules and regulations around visitors. How many, what times, how long, ect ect. Jack wasn’t willing to play the game the way he was being told…He just wanted to be next to you. 

“That so?” Jack’s colleague, Adam, raised his eyebrows in a shocked expression. “You know, even if you’re on shift and she takes a turn, you can’t–” 

“I know, I know,” Jack sighed. He was sick of being told he couldn’t help you. It was killing him. He had all these skills, all this knowledge and ability…Yet it was all worth shit when it came to you. “If one more person tells me that.” 

“My little girl was in here a few months ago,” Adam explained, hoping to give Jack some comfort in the back seat he found himself in. “It’s hard to relinquish trust in others when it comes to our family members, at the end of the day, yes, she’s your wife,” Adam emphasised the wife part, just to remind Jack that you weren’t dead yet and that you were still very much his wife. “But I gotta tell you, brother, she’s the most important person in my case load, I won’t let you, or her, down,” Adam was firm. He was stern. “Work down here as long as you need to, but I got her, only reason she’s here is because that damn SSI just went sleeper agent until it was ready to erupt.” 

Jack acknowledged his colleague’s words with a tight-lipped nod before he made his way over to your bedside, pulling out the chair he’s spent hours in already. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” Jack’s entire demeanour changed when he was with you; everyone saw it. Adam just watched on silently as Jack held your hand between his, whispering sweet nothings like prayers to a god he didn’t believe in. “It’s been too long, I need you here, I don’t know how to…” The pause, the weighted silence that filled the room. It was heavier than Jack expected. “I don’t know how to do this without you, I need you to wake up, I’m not asking, I’m not giving you anymore time here, stop being a stubborn–” 

“Woah–” Robby interrupted from the doorway. Jack didn’t even need to turn around to recognise his best friend’s voice. “I wouldn’t wanna wake up if you were talkin to me like that,” He faked insult with raised eyebrows and a small sigh. His hands held his stethoscope on either side as he walked in. Adam made his way out, there were far too many people in your room for his liking. “How’s my favourite drama queen doing today?” 

“She’s stable,” Jack relayed what Adam had told him. “For now.” 

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about Y/n,” Robby snickered to himself as he placed a gentle hand on Jack’s shoulder. “How are you, brother? Talk to me.” 

“It just feels like…” Jack sighed to himself as he tried to think of the perfect word to describe what he was feeling. All the emotions. All the built-up regret. The trauma. The sleepless nights and empty stomach. The constant nausea from worry. This wasn’t who he was. 

But it was the effect you had on him. He loved you more than he loved himself, and that was clear to everyone around Jack Abbot. 

“...Purgatory.” Jack settled on a word. A complete sentence. One word to describe all the pain, the heartbreak, the sorrow. 

Robby nodded with tight lips as he checked over your monitors. Again, all signs were pointing in the right direction. But he’d said the same thing before you coded. He was confident in you that you'd pull through with no further complications or deficits. He didn't venture down to the ICU often, not since Covid at least. But you were family. 

“I can't lose her.” 

“I don’t think she’s letting you off the hook that easily,” Robby chuckled softly. You were like a sister to him. An annoying extension of Jack Abbot himself. “Go home, get some rest, you have to start taking more care of yourself. I’ll sit with her for a while and call if anything changes.” 

“She coded when I took a shower, I'm not going anywhere,” Jack argued. His demeanour hardened within the blink of an eye. “I'll sit with her until my shift starts.” 

Robby knew it was pointless to argue, but it was six thirty in the fucking morning and it was too early to have a headache. So he conceded to Jack's stubborn desire to remain by your side. Robby knew if it were him in Jack's shoes, he’d be losing it too. 

“Fine, page me if you need something. Can I tell the crew you’re in the building so that if you’re needed?” 

“Always,” Jack replied. His intense gaze never left you. He was hoping if he made up uncomfortable enough that you’d wake up and tell him to fuck off. 

Much to his own dismay, you didn't. Instead of counting sheep like a normal person, Jack knew that the little sleep he’d get the next time his eyes closed, he’d be counting worst-case scenarios without you to calm his mind and ease his nerves. 

—--------------------------------------------

“Ignore him. He had a rough night and is having an ongoing existential crisis.” Robby teases, but not really. The statement is true. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there soon enough,” Jack replied. He’d had enough. Even a workaholic needs a break from time to time. All things considered, Jack was well overdue. “Jesus fucking christ, get me outta here.” He looked up to the heavens above, well, the fluorescent lights at least. 

“He doesn’t answer whenever I call,” You sighed as you came round the corner of the nurse’s station, deciding to plant yourself with a thud on the chair Jack was originally leaning over. “So if he answers, I know he’s playing fucking favorites.” 

“What’s up with you?” Jack frowned. He hadn’t seen you in what felt like hours. It probably had been hours, but the Emergency Room felt like an endless pit of disappear on its good days. Time was only relevant in the concept of saving lives, not society’s standards. 

“That arrogant son of a bitch from ICU was called down to consult, tried to hit me up for my number again.” You grumbled as you rummaged through all your pockets, emptying the bits and bobs you’d collected throughout your shift. “He knows we’re married, right?” You finally looked up to where Jack had been standing with his arms now crossed over his chest. 

“It’s probably the only thing known about me around here,” Jack replied as you let your head hang back, exposing your neck in a way that shouldn’t have made Jack’s heart race…but it did. You were his wife at the end of the day. And he was at the very core of it all…

Just a guy who loved his wife. 

“That’s what I’m saying!” You groaned. Jack watched as you cupped your face and let out an exaggerated sigh into your palms. “Men, I hope I never end up as one of his patients.” 

“You and me both, slugger, need me to have a chat with him?’ Jack asked with a genuine concern in his voice. “Just say the word and–” 

You panicked at the very thought, Jack could tell as you shot up and uncovered your face.

“No, thank you.” You smiled softly. “I don’t want someone going missing, or worse.” You gave Jack a look he recognised immediately. A few months ago, there had been an incident involving a scalpel, your husband and one of the male nurses from the renal ward. 

“I keep a knife in my pocket.” Jack joked, sending you a wink. But there was a small part of him that wasn’t joking. He’d kill whoever he had to if they were putting you in an awkward position. 

“I’m good, down boy.” Your smile was as infectious, the best kind of medicine. Jack smiled, nodding in agreement. 

He remembered his reason to keep coming back. Not that he truly ever forgot. The wedding band wrapped around his left ring finger was a permanent fixture. 

“Before we get too far away, everyone!” Robby’s voice sounded off in earshot of where Jack stood. He was getting closer. “I’d like to introduce you all to Y/n.” 

“Uh, hi?” You waved slightly, still sitting on the spinning chair you had crashed into before. Jack knew it was probably the first time you’d sat down all shift. 

“This is Dr. Jack Abbot,” Once again, Robby introduced his best friend, but this time to all the new residents. Not just Mel. “Y/n here is gonna be your best friend in the Pitt.”   

“Oh, for the love of—“ 

Jack smirked as he interrupted you, “He doesn’t call either.” He swore that if you had rolled your eyes any harder at him, you would have fallen over. 

“Treat her with respect and she’ll make your shift as smooth as possible,” Robby explained. He respected you way too much for him not to pass that onto his students. “Disrespect her? And you're automatically out of here, end of story.” 

“I thought Dana was the charge nurse?” Dr. Santos asked. Jack frowned slightly at her question. But she wasn’t wrong. It was just her delivery. 

“Yeah,” Robby caught the look on Jack’s face. “But she isn’t married to Dr. Abbot here, and there’s a reason he works nights.”

“He bites.” You teased quickly with a smirk at the new residents. Jack was quick to correct your statement. 

“I don’t bite.” It was like a drug to him. The banter. The flirtatious love that radiated off the two of you. Jack loved you with everything he was. “What is your problem?” 

Jack saw that you went to respond. He saw that look in your eye. That inappropriate look. That look that told him you were about to say something completely out of pocket. Something downright crude. But you didn’t get the chance to before Robby interrupted. 

“Point is!” Robby raised his eyebrows in the way someone would when they narrowly avoid an awkward moment. “She’s important to us, which means she’s important to you guys, and you guys have been warned,” He chuckled as he crossed his arms over his chest and swayed his hips side to side casually. “If you’d like to push the boundaries, by all means, have at it, but Dr. Abbot here doesn’t do bullshit.” 

Jack nodded. He admired you with a pride like no other. You were nothing short of a superhero with everything that you did around here. “Our nurses, especially my one, know what they’re doing. Never hesitate to listen to them, especially?” Jack raised his eyebrows, waiting for the residents to finish his sentence. 

“This one,” Everyone croaked out nervously. 

“Well done.” Jack was satisfied. Soon enough, he was turning back to where you sat, now slumped into your chair a little further. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Sighing, you stood. “But seriously, don’t make my life miserable.” It was a tease…but Jack knew you were also quietly begging them not to make your life harder than it needed to be. Sometimes doctors had a tendency to forget just how important and valuable nurses are in the medical field. 

Robby ushered all his ducklings away. Every year, they came through all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tailed not knowing hell awaited them. Jask watched the group walk away until they were out of his peripheral vision. 

“Thank fuck this shift is over, lets get the fuck outta here.” Jack groaned as he tapped you on the shoulder. Giving you a small pep up to get up off the chair. You rose to your feet and met your husband’s gaze. 

There was nothing but mutual admiration in both your eyes. A love that ran deep. A fierce, unconditional understanding that this was it for both of you. 

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” 

—---------------------------------

Humans like to think that they’re rational beings. Humane. Conscientious. Civilised. Thoughtful. But when things fall apart, even just a little, it becomes clear. We’re no better than animals. 

We have opposable thumbs. We think. We walk erect. We speak. We dream. But deep down, we’re all still rooting around in the primordial ooze. Biting. Clawing. Scratching out an existence. 

In the cold, dark world, like the rest of the tree toads and sloths. 

“This is your third session. And you still haven’t said anything yet.” The man who sat across from Jack said as he placed his clipboard down. “Now, while I love the quiet time, um…” 

“I read a study that, uh, says that just the, you know, act of going to thearaly is beneficial, even if you don’t say anything. Even if you just sit.” Jack explained as he sat quietly across the small office from his therapist. 

His second therapist. This was work-mandated therapy. Twice a week. Jack wasn’t going to stop working, but he also wasn’t allowed to keep working if he didn’t speak to a professional. 

“So you thought you’d come here and just sit?” His name was Ben. Jack didn’t have a problem with Ben. It was just that Jack already had a pretty good therapist. And he wasn’t the kind of person who just went about telling anyone willing to listen about his problems. “That’s how you’re gonna solve your problems?” 

“I don’t have problems.” Jack didn’t hesitate to correct his work-ordered therapist. He just wanted to get back down to work. But it was Thursday night, which meant Jack Abbot had a forty-five-minute session of mandatory therapy to get through before he could begin his shift. 

“What brings you here?” Ben reiterated. He knew denial like the back of his hand. It's what he did best. Denying the inevitable. That's why he became a grievance guide. Someone to help people transition through death as easily as possible. 

“Look, I’m fine,” Jack sighed as he leaned forward so that his elbows could rest on his knees. He tossed the idea around in his head, the one about telling Ben he wasn’t really sleeping too well. “It’s just–I haven’t been sleeping an awful lot.” 

Ben raised an eyebrow. This was good. This was progress. This was clipboard-worthy. 

The truth of the matter was that Jack hadn't slept a decent amount since your accident. He was working doubles. Doing anything in his power to remain busy. Because if he stopped to think about you for just a second? He wanted to collapse. 

He wanted to die because living in a world without you was something straight out of a horror show. Jack had seen wartime practices. He'd experienced loss to the maximum degree. He never lost his cool in chaos. But you? 

You made him unravel in ways he couldn't begin to explain. Layer by layer, like an onion, you weaselled your way into every fibre of his being. 

“How long have you not been sleeping?” Ben asked casually. This was new. This was the most he had been able to get out of Dr. Abbot in days. He’d been assigned to him as a new patient under the banner of grievance counselling. 

Only Jack wasn’t aware of that as he spoke about his non-existent sleeping routine. 

“You know,” He shrugged. He wasn't about to say it either. “It’s been six weeks and I can’t sleep.” 

“Six weeks since what?” Ben didn’t mean to press too much, but he wanted Jack to keep opening up. It was small steps. But the first step needed to be Jack saying it. Saying why he was here. At grievance counselling. 

That you were dying. There was a high probability that you weren't going to wake up. That's why he was here. Jack had to know that, right? 

Sensing Jack’s hesitation to keep going, Ben interjected with something bordering on professionalism and out-of-scope practices. 

“Look, I work in this hospital. I try not to listen to gossip, but this is a very gossipy place.” Jack hated that his dude worked in the hospital too. Whatever happened to work-life balance? Not that he had a balance of any sort. But seeing a therapist in the hospital where your wife is in a coma, in which you also work, seems like a lot of sway for the work side. “So there are some things that I’ve heard–” 

“Y/n isn’t the reason I’m here.” Jack interrupted his therapist’s train of thought. You weren't the problem. You could never be a problem. 

“Then what brings you here?” Ben tried again, this time with more intent. He needed Jack to snap out of this delusion he found himself in, one where you were okay and he wasn’t having conversations with your care team about end-of-life care. 

“You know, I gotta go, I have to check in with my patients and see who’s next on the wheel of misfortune.” He didn’t really. But Jack would rather be anywhere else in the world than in this office, with this…guy. 

“Dr. Abbot, if you’d just–!” But it was too late. Jack was making distance down the hall. So much so that instead of ending up in the Emergency Department, he ended up at the double doors to the ICU. 

With his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants, Jack Abbot stared long and hard at the closed, automatic doors. He knew you were right behind them, still off in whatever place you’d gone to that wasn’t here with him. 

Six weeks… 

It had been six agonisingly sleepless weeks of you in this stupid ward. The ICU ward. The ward they make you buzz in for every time. God he hated that shit. Because sometimes there wasn’t someone at the desk to buzz you. 

They stopped allowing Jack from using his credentials to gain access to the ICU when he wasn’t technically working. Another bullshit rule he hated. 

*Buzz*

“ICU, visiting hours are over.” There was no care in the time of voice that came through the speaker. Jack made a note of that. Whoever it was that greeted him, a family member just wanted to visit a loved one in need, needed a crash course in bedside manner. 

“It’s Dr. Abbot.” That was all Jack said into the small microphone on the wall. There was nothing else said on the other end either; the doors simply opened. 

But the bedside manner talk could wait. Everything else in the world could wait. Because once Jack was in the ICU, all that mattered was you. He thrived in emergencies. Jack Abbot was a soul who knew how to remain calm in storms. He knew how to problem-solve and control chaos. 

But it all crumbled when he saw you, his wife, still plugged up to every machine known to man with every bit of lifesaving intervention that could help keep you here with him. 

“I just sat in my third appointment this week without speaking,” Jack says to you like you’re listening to him. He believes it to some extent. “Ben, god, I hate that guy,” He sighs heavily as he sits beside you. Checking every monitor and every stat as he does. 

Normal. Everything’s fucking normal so why are you not waking up? Even the sedation had decreased. 

“What am I even doing here?” Jack frowns. He knows this isn't healthy. “You aren’t waking up, are you?” It’s a question that Jack wants to be wrong about. But he knows that after eight weeks, two before your SSI and six weeks with, your chances were dwindling.

“I miss you so much.” It’s a pained moment, a tight feeling inside his chest. Jack thinks maybe he’s having a heart attack. But it’s just his breaking in a way he’d never experienced before. “You have you, you know, wake up.” There are tears now. Jack swears he doesn’t remember when he started crying. Or when he reached out to move the hair from your face. Or when your hand was wrapped tightly in his. He missed the way you’d squeeze his hand back in times of troubleshooting. “Because all this talk of you maybe…not…is scaring me out of my mind.” 

There’s a little animal in all of us. And maybe that’s something to celebrate. Our animal instinct is what makes us seek comfort. Warmth. A pack to run with. 

We may feel caged. We may feel trapped. But still, as humans, we can all still find ways to feel free. We are each other's keepers. We are the guardians of our humanity. 

Even though there are beasts inside all of us, what sets us apart from animals is that we can think, feel, dream and love…and against all odds, against all instinct, we evolve. 

It was something Jack's actual therapist would tell him from time to time when things felt especially hard. But right now, after watching you slowly fade away from him over the course of eight weeks, Jack had started to believe he was maybe two weeks away from being sent to the pound. 

“I can't have you stuck here like this anymore, you gotta give me something to work with, sweetheart,” Jack begs. He doesn't want to make the call himself. And he also can't bring himself to give up. “You gotta pull through, you don't have a choice here, I'm telling you, and that's it.” 

It's a gentle squeeze that Jack doesn't register at first. 

“Yeah, you heard me, no excuses, no damn choice, wake up.” He speaks casually. His mind hasn't caught up to the sensation of your hand squeezing his back. “Woah—hang on, can you hear me?” 

Jack has never moved faster. He's on his feet in seconds. Standing over you with his pocket pen-light in your eyes, shining it directly at you while he holds your face ever so gently. 

“Sweetheart, it's me, can you follow the light?” You do, but only for a brief moment. “I need Dr. Stevenson NOW!” Jack bellows out as he relays what's happening. “She's waking up!” 

Your eyes are barely open, there's still a tube down your throat. But the hand in yours that's squeezing you back is Jack’s. 

The experience is, too often, ass-backwards and upside down. 

And then, somehow, improbably and when you least expect it, the world rights itself again…

“I've got you,” sweetheart,” Jack cries while he holds your hand. He was afraid, as afraid as he was when he lost his leg, that if he let go, you'd never come back. “I'm right here.” 

——————————————-

The first time you could hear something, outside of the context, you needed to understand the topic of discussion, was  “We’ve done the best that we can given the circumstances.” Conversation with your husband. 

But now, without so much as an explanation. You were seeing Jack hovering over you. A bright flash of white light took over your vision for a few seconds. “Ah, angel of mine.” You thought to yourself as Jack's silhouette came back to the forefront of your vision. 

It felt like a dream at first. Nothing felt real or tangible. It was a space between life and death. A place where nothing could grow, age or learn. It was a space for the hopeful. The already dead. The ones who weren’t ready and the ones who were. 

“Purgatory,” You tried to speak but couldn’t. There was something in your throat that panicked you. 

“It's alright, Y/n, you were intubated, but we’re gonna take it out alright? Just a nice deep exhale for us, okay?” Words. They were all just a bunch of mumbled words. You couldn't tell where they were coming from or who they were coming from. 

But the second that tube was pulled from your throat, everything started to hurt. 

“Y/n? Are you with us, Earth side? Talk to us?”

“Feel,” You tried to speak through coughs and splatters. “Hurt.” 

It wasn't exactly what Jack wanted to hear as he watched everything unfold. His hand never left yours as people worked around him. They were all scared to tell him to leave. 

“You've been in a coma, you were attacked on shift a few weeks back and suffered a pretty nasty head trauma? Do you remember that?” The question was asked without much emotional range, maybe because everyone was focusing on getting you to a more comfortable place. Less tubes, fewer wires.

“Yes—” You tried to speak, but everything hurt. Your head felt like it was about to explode. 

“Do you remember anything afterwards?” 

“Jack?” You cracked out. It was barely audible. But he heard you loud and clear. Like you were singing sweet symphonies just for him. 

“I'm here,” He cooed gently with such a desire, it nearly took the limited breath out of your lungs. “I'm right here, shhh, you're okay, you're doing just fine, sweetheart,” 

It was weird for everyone to see Jack with such a burning endearment for your well-being. No one in their right mind was about to tell that man to leave. Not when he'd been down here every day to some extent. Bossing people around. Brooding. Living in existential crisis mode. 

“Never thought I'd see the day!” Somewhat in the shuffle, someone had called Robby down. He was just getting ready to finish up his shift. But if his favourite person was about to grace him with the gift of consciousness, then he wasn't going anywhere. He was right where he needed and wanted to be. “Y/n, how's it feel to be with the living?” He smiled wildly. 

“Like—” It was a struggle. Everything hurt all at once. It was full-body dullness. An incomprehensible ache. “Arse.” 

Robby just smiled down at you. He was taking in the sight of you. Much like Jack was. Only his eyes conveyed a worry that Jack didn't express. He was worried about the possible deficits. 

"I bet,” Robby replied. “I won't sugarcoat it, you've been in the trenches, my friend, but one day at a time we’re gonna get you back on your feet.” 

“Stats are holding, BP is steady, she might be really tired for the next few days.” Dr. Adam Stevenson added. Jack knew all this. He was a seasoned pro in the art of addressing family members. But it still didn't make it easier to be on the receiving end. 

“Where am I?” You questioned softly. Your eyes were barely open. But Jack still had his hand in yours, and that's all that mattered to him. You were squeezing his hand. “What's—what's going on?” 

“You were hurt pretty bad,” Jack started. It was the way that he got as close to you as he possibly could that broke Robby the most. “You never gave up, though.” He continued through tear-stricken eyes. “And then you got sick, but you still never stopped fighting.” It was like Jack was proud of you, or at least that’s how he sounded. You couldn’t do anything but try and smile up at him. The muscles in your face hurt. Everything fucking hurt. 

“How,” You strained out, one word at a time. It felt like you’d just run a marathon. “Are, you?”

“Me?” Jack frowned as his eyes scanned every inch of you. “You have been fighting for your life for eight weeks, and you’re worried me how I am? Me?” When you simply nodded in response, that’s when Jack broke. He let himself cry. He sobbed like he’d been holding everything in. It was like Jack Abbot had taken his first breath in eight long, agonising weeks. “I thought I was gonna lose you.” 

“Hey,” Robby gestured with his chin at Dr. Stevenson, “Let’s give them some space, she’s stable.” He didn’t respond, but he left the room with Robby following right behind. They both stayed close by, unable to take their eyes off your monitors. 

“You were just…gone.” Jack cried as he laid his head next to your torso. Your hand was resting on his cheek, gently caressing his scruff-covered chin. “You just left, and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get you back.” 

“Why would you lose me?” Jack barely caught it. He thought maybe you were just paying yourself some credit for making it out the other side. But as he looked up at you through teary eyes, he saw it. The split-second seizure. 

“Robby?” Jack called out as he watched your eyes roll into the back of your head. It was only for a brief second, but it still happened. “She's having seizures.” 

“Page neuro, get someone down here,” Adam shouted as he stepped back into the room. Robby was hot on his tail. 

“Where am I?” You asked softly. It broke Jake's heart to see the confusion in your eyes. The pain. The hurt. “Jack?” 

“Where’d you go, sweetheart?” Jack cooed as he ran the pad of his thumb across your chin. “You're good, I've got you.” 

“She's probably experiencing some form of post-traumatic memory loss,” Robby suggested as he observed you. “I'd like to think it's not a permanent thing we’re looking at, but for now, I think we'll run some tests and wait and see what the next few hours bring.”

“We don’t have time to just sit around a fucking wait!” Jack finally cracked. Everyone had been waiting for it for weeks now. They knew he was walking a fine line between keeping his composure and fully losing it on the next person who said something remotely dumb. It was like a full-on out-of-body experience. Anger that knew no bounds. “Jesus fucking christ, am I losing my goddamn mind here? Or did she just forget everything that happened in the last ten minutes?” 

“Something to be expected,” Robby reminded the emergency physician who saw injuries, much like yours, every day. “It's something we prepared for, so it's something we can, hopefully, overcome.” 

“I remember you.” Was all you had to say for Jack to be back inside his own body. The anger had diminished to near nothing. It had been replaced by pure, unconditional love. “I also remember he doesn't answer.” You were just resting your eyes a little. Your eyelids felt like cement blinds. But you knew Jack was smiling. 

“Oh, he answered me today,” He sighed as he leaned in to kiss your cheeks as softly as he could. “Finally, someone up there got the call.” 

“No fucking way,” You mumbled back. Robby had pushed a small amount of pain relief to help keep you comfortable as Jack settled in. He wasn't working tonight. Or tomorrow night, or any other night until he knew you were truly okay. He just got you back. Like hell was he leaving your side. 

“I'd even deem this a miracle,” Robby added. “Besides, this guy's been public enemy number one since you coded in the Emergency Room, so it's nice to have you back to keep him from, you know,” He suggested what all three of you knew. 

“Who are you? Dr. Rabinovitch?” You sighed heavily as you settled. Still holding Jack's hand. He wasn't letting go. Neither were you. 

“Very funny,” Robby smirked, crossing his arms as he did so. “I'll leave the two of you here, but I'll be back with Neuro.” 

Jack never once took his eyes off you. His gaze was all-consuming. It was the eye contact he desperately craved. 

As you looked up at him, Jack's eyes again filled with tears. You were back. You were alive. You were here with him. 

“You've been everyone's issue while I've been gone?” You asked gently in your drug-induced lavender haze. “Haven't you, Abbot?” 

Jack smiled back at you. Counting his lucky stars. Jack knew you’d find out eventually. But he thought, why not give in to you a little? So, without much probing needed. Jack settled into his chair. He pulled up his cargo pants and undid the suction on his prosthetic leg. The titanium limb laid awkwardly on the floor beside him. But this was as comfortable as Jack Abbot was going to get. 

“You don't even know the half of it, sweetheart.” 

And with you by his side? He didn't mind it one little bit.

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

[serverusslaype]

Shameless, pt. 10

Severus Snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

it's ya girl, back again...! 😼

hello, hi, how are you all? :) hope you are doing well! i'm feeling a lot better, i'm just congested now fml </3

this chapter is shorter, but not too short. as in it's not as long as the previous ones - they were like 6,000 words+, this is only 4,000-5,000 i think. The main reason is because it didn't really make sense to me to have it longer. so i hope you guys enjoy it!

thank you for all the likes, reblogs and most importantly the replies you left on the last chapter, they had me fucking dying oh my lord. 😭 you guys are so funny honestly. please keep leaving stuff like that it truly makes me laugh and makes my day 🌟🩷

Also guys what the fuck since when could you attach songs????? IM ABOUT TO GO BACK AND ADD SOME ON THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS BECAUSE WHATTT MIND BLOWN

without further ado......

You trailed behind McGonagall and Snape, keeping your eyes glued to the floor in front of you as your body was still on fire from your encounter with Severus.

"How on Earth did Black manage to slip into the castle?" Snape hissed, briefly looking at McGonagall who was striding beside him, her brows laced together with worry. A shiver slid down your spine as Snape's stern voice bounced off of the stone corridor, creating a rather dramatic echo. Only moments ago were you about to kiss the man, totally disregarding the fact that you were seeing Ben. What a fucking mess.

Then again, you thought, how could anyone not get lost in his eyes? Gods, you were such a pathetic excuse for a woman as of right now.

Severus's eyes were distracting, almost magnetic-like, as they beckoned you to look further within them, silently persuading you to forget about anything and everything that mattered to you. You were sure he didn't intend to do such a thing, or maybe that's what you were telling yourself, but in that intimate moment with him, you couldn't help but feel inclined to kiss him. Whether it was the heat of the moment or not, you were sure he wanted to kiss you too.

"We're not sure," McGonagall replied, sighing in a distressed manner as she ripped you from your self-destructive thoughts. "Even Albus is baffled as to how he eluded our defences." You flicked your eyes up to glance at Minerva. You sort of felt like you shouldn't be here, it's not like you'd be much help if Black appeared in front of you right this second - your knowledge and skill in combat was nowhere near the level of McGonagall and Snape, you were certain that you'd probably be a burden. The thought of slipping away down a corridor poked at your brain, taunting you.

"Y/N?" Minerva's worrisome voice once again pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up, face flushing as you met Severus's curious eyes. Quickly glancing away, you focused your attention on the Gryffindor Head of House, afraid of the outcome if you stared any longer at him.

"Yes?" You cleared your throat, ignoring the way Severus was side-eyeing you from behind Minerva.

"Would you mind going to check the greenhouses?" She asked. Severus snapped his head at Minerva, clearly in disagreement with her proposal. You frowned slightly at his quick reaction, a tad offended.

"Minerva, I don't think that's a wise idea." Severus said rather sternly, glancing at you for a brief moment. Your face felt hot again.

"Y/N is more than capable of handling herself, Severus." Minerva replied, matching his stern tone. Severus's jaw ticked as he huffed quietly, looking away from the the older witch, silently feuding with her decision. She turned to you and offered a reassuring smile. You appreciated the faith that she had in you, but you weren't sure it was... correctly placed, to put it lightly. You pursed your lips, slightly awkward, stuck between staring at Severus's doubtful eyes and Minerva's confident ones. As you met Snape's eyes, he looked away, his brows furrowing. Your stomach somersaulted, but you weren't sure it was in the positive way you wanted. "Severus, check the dungeons." Minerva ordered, and he obliged with a curt nod, leaving almost immediately without a blink at you.

You shut your eyes briefly, fighting the urge to scream. Fuck, did you just make it extremely awkward between you two? Or was that just him being his naturally dismissive self? Was he just saving face because the two of you were in the presence of McGonagall? Did he actually lean in to kiss you as well or... did you imagine that?

"Y/N?" Minerva called, once again pulling you from your thoughts.

"Hm?" You blinked, eyes widening quickly as you realised you had a job to do. "Sorry, I was just-"

The older witch gently touched your forearm, causing you to look up at her with twinkling eyes. "What's going on with you and Severus?" Minerva questioned you, keeping her voice low but curious. As you looked at her, hesitantly, you saw sadness in her eyes, or perhaps... pity? "I know what I saw." She added rather glumly. You were a little confused at her tone, why did she seem so... sad about this?

"I don't know what you're talking about." You choked out awkwardly. Her brows knitted together as she leant her head back slightly, almost like she was disappointed in you.

"Don't make me sound like a fool, Y/N." She said. That was the same tone she had taken with you when you were a student. You immediately tore your eyes away.

"I..." Your mouth stayed open for a moment, unsure of what to say. "It's... complicated."

"It always is with Severus." Minerva sighed through her nose, a little agitated. You looked back and tilted your head at her, confused.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Severus is a complicated man, Y/N. I'm not sure you're aware of just how far his... trauma... goes." She said quietly, her tone switching back to it's usual soft one. You broke your gaze from Minerva's and shifted it to the ground thoughtfully.

"Nothing will come of it," You shook your head as the image of Ben flooded your mind. You winced. "It was a mistake, I shouldn't have done that, it was just a spur of the... moment... sort of thing." You shrugged, trying to ignore the pain that was currently blossoming in your chest at the sound of your own words. "I'm, err, seeing someone, anyway."

"Oh?" Minerva quirked a brow at you. This must sound so disorderly to her. You're seeing someone, but she had walked in on you almost kissing Severus? She probably thinks you're some kind of harlot that can't keep her legs closed now. Jesus. Nice one.

"Um, Benjamin- Benjamin Bluewater, I'm sure you're familiar with that name..." You trailed off, shrinking as you awaited her answer. You knew he wasn't a fond topic amongst the teachers at Hogwarts back in the day, so you were always preparing yourself for a scolding or some sort of judgemental remark.

"Oh, yes, I remember Mr Bluewater." Minerva hummed thoughtfully, staring at you with her inquisitive eyes. You felt as if you had to explain yourself.

"In regards to the... thing you saw- Severus and I, it's complicated, like I said, there's this weird... tension between us-" You were rambling now, and you couldn't stop yourself. Merlin, someone stop you, please. "I can't really explain it, I mean I have feelings for him, but he didn't feel the same, then I-I met Ben, and then today happened, and... it's just a whole... mess, Minerva, I don't know what to do." You huffed, clearly distressed with the situation. You looked down at the floor, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment, too worked up to even look your colleague and former-professor in the eye. "I'm sorry, I know there's another situtation at hand and I shouldn't be bothering you with such... trivial things but..." As you looked up, a soft smile had made it's way onto her face. You were rather shocked to see that. You'd expected another disappointed frown.

"Y/N," Minerva said soothingly, placing a calming hand upon your frantic ones, "as much as I respect and admire Severus, I think you should focus on Benjamin." She sighed softly. "Save your heart. Severus will only break it." A sad smile crossed her features, almost like she knew how you felt. Your mouth was parted - mainly from shock. Perhaps you should listen to Minerva, she'd known Severus for much, much longer than you have. You didn't know what to say, so you only nodded, closing your mouth slowly. "Now, I have to find Albus. Will you make sure the greenhouses are safe?"

"Of course." You swallowed, a feeling of uncertainty settling upon you.

"Lumos." You muttered, aiming your wand in the darkened room, the reflections of your wand glittering against the mossy windows. Your eyes darted around the greenhouse, searching for any sign of Black having been inside or nearby.

Everything seemed to be as you'd left it. All of your assignments were in the correct place, no plants nor pots had been knocked over and broken... no signs of forced entry... A sigh of relief slipped out of you, your tense body relaxing. Though, before you got too comfortable, the sound of a twig snapping behind you reversed all indications of your relief.

"Jesus!" You cried out, whirling around like a bullet, your frightened eyes softening a tad as they fell upon a tall, cloaked figure - none other than Severus Snape. "Please, can you not do that?!" You sighed, a hand flying to your chest in a feeble attempt to settle your racing heart as your cheeks painted themselves pink.

An amused smirk tugged at Snape's lips as his hands were clasped behind his back, staring down at you. "And not witness the terrified look upon your face?" Severus quipped, clearly relishing in your entertaining reaction. "I must disagree."

"At least let me know you're there, I could have hurt you." You replied with a glare, looking up to see an incredulous brow cocked up on Severus's face. You rolled your eyes at him. "Okay, I wouldn't have hurt you, but still, just... tell me next time." You huffed, rather exhaustedly. "Why are you here anyway? Aren't you meant to be checking the dungeons?" 

"I did." Severus nodded, allowing his eyes to study your still-petrified, yet red face. You swallowed, feeling rather vulnerable under his gaze. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, debating whether to speak again. "I just wanted to make sure you were... alright."

"Oh," You choked, feeling like someone had just winded you. Did he really just say that? "I'm okay." You said, placing your wand back inside the pocket of your forest-green robes.

"I can see that." Severus muttered, blinking slowly at you. McGonagall's words uttered in your mind as you felt yourself becoming lost in his dark, black eyes once more.

'Save your heart. Severus will only break it.'

"We should head back." You cleared your throat as your soft voice pierced the blanket of silence that had fallen upon the two of you. "The greenhouses are clear. I doubt Black would choose to hide out here, it's not exactly... erm, tidy." An embarrassed grimace twisted your features as you glanced around the room.

"I don't suppose it helps when one is bombarded with... gifts." Severus said, spitting the last word out like it was poison. You glanced up at him, frowning.

"And what's wrong with that?" You folded your arms against your chest rather defensively.

"In my humble opinion," Severus gave a curt sigh through his nostrils, evidently disapproving of Ben's tendency to send you a copius amount of flowers amongst other things. "Few small, meaningful gifts are far more superior than a prolific amount of materialistic gifts." He finished, sneering slightly at the wilting flowers that were dotted around your greenhouse, all adorned with different handwritten notes. Inside, you agreed with Snape, and you wished that that was the case with Ben, but he just seemed to think that throwing gold and flowers at you would keep you interested. Of course, you didn't mind him sending you such things, you were grateful, but it was getting a little tiresome. 

"Just because you don't get any." You teased, trying to hide the cheeky smile that tugged at your lips. Severus's head snapped to yours, an icy glare piercing your soul. You shivered slightly, a little sheepish as his sharp eyes dug into yours.

"I don't need gifts to satisfy my ego." He quipped, turning his nose up at you. Clearly, he didn't appreciate your light-hearted joke.

"Right, because talking down on people does that for you." You retorted, narrowing your eyes at Severus. Your patience was thin today, obviously.

"You seem to have grown a backbone, Y/N." Severus stepped towards you.

"I need one with you." You huffed, turning away from him. Severus watched curiously as you stepped away from him, his eyes trailing down your back, silently admiring your robes. He couldn't help but notice how pretty you looked in green. He thought it suited you better than your usual yellow and black. Perhaps he was just being selfish, imagining you in his House colour.

"Are you quite done?" Severus voiced. You cast a confused glance at him.

"With?" You frowned, cocking a brow expectantly.

"Having a tantrum." He replied, infamously cocking his brow at you.

"You're joking, right?" You scoffed at him, taking the bait like a fool. You turned yourself around to face him. "I made a lighthearted joke and you took it personally." The corners of his lips tugged upwards slightly in amusement. At this point it was too easy for him to wind you up. "What are you��smiling about?" You stepped towards him, challenging him. He was getting underneath your skin.

"It's a pity that big mouth of yours doesn't match up with your brain." Severus said languidly, his deep voice sending a shockwave through your body. You had to swallow to compose yourself as your stomach began to tingle. He stood motionless in front of you, his hands still clasped behind his back, though you were blind to the fact that he was currently squeezing them harder the closer you got.

"Big mouth?" A gasp fell from your lips as you stared up at Severus, your eyes narrowing into a glare. "That's rich coming from you." You retorted, feeling your cheeks grow hot as you held his gaze. His lips twisted into a smirk as he closed the space between you with another step, that familiar smell of him overwhelming you.

"Is it?" Severus challenged you, silently enjoying your vain show of determination. He set his shoulders back as he stared down at you with scrutinising eyes, studying every inch of your pinkening face. He was getting a reaction out of you, and he was loving it.

"Yes." You panted. At this point, you were so worked up and distracted by his words and luscious scent that you hadn't noticed how unravelled you'd become. Your chest was heaving, breaths quiet and deep, your cheeks flushed unashamedly. You were a breathless mess. Your body was begging for Severus at this point. You were desperate for him to touch it, to even just lay a finger on it- anything. You had to relieve this ache.

"Please, enlighten me, Y/N." Severus whispered, leaning in towards you. A growl bubbled in your throat as you glared at him, your irked eyes boring into his. You were so tense and wound up that you couldn't talk. Your words were so jumbled together that you just couldn't form a coherent sentence without embarrassing yourself. "Hmm," Severus hummed, tilting his head at you, as if he was analysing you like an equation. "Didn't think so." He added smugly, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards.

"You're such an arsehole." You exhaled, shoving him with a flat palm. He didn't budge. Instead, his hand flew to your wrist, gripping it like an iron vice. Your eyes widened as Severus's once-smirking lips fell into a serious, flat line, his eyes burning.

"Weren't you taught that you mustn't... touch... what... isn't... yours?" Severus tutted, articulating each syllable with a hint of venom. You wished that wasn't the case, but in this world, you rarely get what you want. 

You clenched your jaw at Severus, tugging at your wrist in a vain attempt to free it. His grasp tightened, and you balled your fist. "Let go." You whispered as he tugged you towards him, just mere milimeters separating your bodies. Severus's eyes burned into yours, your body betraying you as it erupted into goosebumps; his face dangerously close to yours once more.

"Where are your manners?" Severus whispered back harshly, his hot breath dancing across your face once more, teasing you. You let your eyes flick between his, hesitating as they dropped down his face, eyeing his lips.

"Perhaps you need to teach me some." You taunted, breathless, your mind jaded. Not one appropriate thought was racing through your mind right now. Severus's brow quirked at your reply, quite obviously taken aback.

"An insufferable brat like you is unteachable." Severus spat back, baring his teeth. The insult didn't do it's job of hurting you, rather, it... aroused you. Your bodies were grazing against one another now, and the way his chest was scraping against yours was sending you into overdrive.

"You wanna bet?" You growled as he released your wrist after one more relentless tug from you. Severus kept his arm raised for a moment, his palm splayed as he glared down at you, your noses almost as close as they were just hours ago. Silence encased the two of you again, only your irregular, ragged breathing being the one thing that the two of you could hear. He was the first to break it.

Gods, you were so close. At this very moment, you had no care left inside of you. You were shameless for him. You couldn't hold yourself back anymore.

After several insufferable seconds, you threw your lips against his; the electric jolt that shot through you almost unbearable as a stifled moan slipped from your lips. A muffled grunt growled at the back of Severus's throat as his hands flew to your hips, kissing you back with such thirst and force you were worried he'd leave bruises around your mouth. His long, slender fingers dug into your clothed flesh like the desperation of a starved man as he pulled you taut against him, his left hand gliding down your arm to grasp messily at your hands, guiding them to sit around his neck. You allowed your fingers to comb through his thick, raven locks; nails grating at his scalp, prompting a delectable, throaty groan from him. Your legs tingled at the sultry noise. The rough, black buttons of his frock dug into your bared chest as he hauled you closer with greedy hands, the coarse texture scraping against your skin, bound to leave thin red scratches across your breast. A strangled cry fell from your lips as Severus teethed your bottom lip, playfully pulling at it. He released it and pressed another heated, sloppy kiss against your swollen mouth, your lids fluttering as you felt yourself melt into his addictive touch.

Severus pulled away from you, a begging whine falling from your lips. "So needy." He teased, breath hot and dangerous.

"Shut up." You muttered through gritted teeth, pulling him back onto you, your body igniting once more his lips met yours.

Pressing your aching body against his, Severus's cold hand slipped up to the back of your hot neck and brought your face impossibly closer to his; your spine aflame as delicious chills shot down it. With burning lungs, you parted your lips, darting your wet tongue into his mouth. Severus let out a heavenly whimper as your tongue licked against his, sending a rush of blazing heat through his shuddering body. Suddenly, he was pushing you backwards, lips still locked in a ferocious fight as the backs of your thighs hit the edge of your desk. Severus's hands swiftly slid from your waist and hooked themselves beneath your bum, inducing a breathy gasp to fall out of you as he lifted you up onto the wooden desk, the two of you disregarding everything that lay upon it. Including handwritten notes from Ben. You felt him smirk against your quivering mouth at the sensual noise that left you, clearly proud at what a panting, desperate mess he'd made you.

As he shuffled you onto the desk, your back knocked over a silver candle holder.

"Careful." You whispered against him, your eyes opening to shoot him a warning glare, though a hint of playfulness was hidden within your lustful voice.

"Shut up." Severus demanded, ultimately silencing you as he forced his mouth on yours, drowning you with his devilish tongue.

Your hands snaked down from the smooth skin of his neck, heading towards his chest, fingers clamping around the edges of his black cloak. Tugging him closer, you laid back on your desk with interlocked lips and Severus gladly obliged, leaning over you, planting a steadying hand beside your head. His other hand caressed your waist in a back-and-forth manner, feeling you, sending your body into a frenzy. Your wet, bruised lips fought against his, noses pressing into each other's cheeks. He pulled another moan from you as he gently brushed his hand against the side of your breast, teasing you.

Before Severus could trace his fingers down your middle, the crack of a branch in the distance ripped the two of you from your intense, sweaty encounter. Immediately, you and Severus pulled away from each other's faces with an audible, wet smooch, the both of you glancing to the source of the noise; breaths still heavy, hands still glued to one another's bodies intimately.

"What was that?" You whispered, fingers tightening around the silky material of his cloak. Instinctively, Severus's hand tensed around you protectively as he let his eyes search the dark; foggy mind racing.

"I don't know," He whispered back, turning back to look at you underneath him after he deemed it safe. You looked ethereal. Your hair was messily splayed-out behind your head, parts of it drooping over the opposite edge of the desk he was leant over. Your cheeks were red and flushed, lips swollen and pink, almost bruised from how harshly Severus had attacked them. After several seconds of admiring his work, he spoke. "Look at you," he hummed, a dangerous smirk painting his face, "what a beautiful mess." He let his eyes rake over your shuddering body, lingering on the red marks that scattered your bare chest. If possible, you blushed harder, your hands reluctantly flying up to fold against you, framing your breasts almost perfectly. Severus bit back a groan. "We should head back, I wouldn't want the others to think Black had had his way with you."

You rolled your eyes at him, a little irked. He'd learned perfectly well how to get under your skin. "What, you don't think I can hold my own against him?"

"Certainly not." Severus answered simply, stepping back from you and offering a hand to help you up. You wanted to protest against his answer, however, you knew he was right. There was no way you could fend off Sirius Black of all wizards. You'd just become another statistic to him. As you took Severus's hand and slipped off of the desk in one swoop, his eyes fell on the notes from Ben that you'd been laid upon. He let out a disapproving hum. You frowned and followed his eyes. Your stomach dropped and your body ran cold at the now slightly damaged notes.

"Shit." You exhaled as you stared down awkwardly at the ripped parchment.

"Shit, indeed." Severus repeated, side-eyeing you with a cocked brow. You glared at him. "Who would have thought, committing adultery with another professor at Hogwarts could be such an interesting feat?" He teased, stepping towards you, intentionally brushing his shoulder against yours.

You swallowed thickly, trying to ignore how close Severus was to you. "It's not like it was serious," You sighed curtly, running a stressed hand through your hair. "I mean, we've only been seeing each other for like, almost... four... months..." You trailed off, your shoulders feeling rather heavy as a strong wave of guilt flooded you. Were you really trying to justify your actions?

"Four months?" Severus sounded impressed.

"...Yes." You replied, avoiding his amused eyes. "You can wipe that smirk off your face right now." You scolded, casting a daring glance his way. For a moment, you admired how he looked - his hair was a little scruffy from where you'd had your hands buried in it, lips partially reddened from how you'd kissed him only moments ago. A hot blush took to your cheeks as you stared at him, your mind reeling back to how he'd grabbed you and pulled you so close against him, like he was scared you'd disappear into thin air.

"We can decide what to do later." Severus stated, slipped his wand from his sleeve and casting Lumos, illuminating the once-darkened greenhouse. "For now, let's return. I'm sure Minerva is wondering where we've disappeared to."

We? Did you hear him correctly?

Before you could question him, he already had his hand pressed against the small of your back, ushering you out of the greenhouse and back towards the castle entrance.

"I've searched the Astronomy Tower and the owlery, sir, but there's nothing there." Filch's decrepid-like voice came from in front of you as Severus escorted you into the Great Hall, his hand falling from your back as you neared Dumbledore and the other staff. You felt a little bummed at the loss of contact, but you didn't exactly want to out yourselves immediately. Speaking of that, you weren't even sure if anything was going to happen between you and Severus, maybe he'd change his mind again like he did last Christmas...

As you glanced around, you noticed every single student was asleep in the Hall, gentle snores slipping from their peaceful faces. You felt a little relieved that they were all safe and sound.

"Yes, the third floor is clear too, sir." Professor Flitwick said to Dumbledore, his beady eyes peering at the old man through his glasses. As the sound of yours and Severus's footsteps began to echo in the large hall, Flitwick turned, staring at the two of you. Clasping his hands together, he watched you and Severus stroll towards him.

"The greenhouses are empty as well, sir." You spoke, offering a polite smile to Flitwick. He happily returned it, averting his attention back to Dumbledore.

"Very good, thank you." Dumbledore acknowledged you with a small smile as you reached him. You stopped just beside Flitwick, your stomach flipping as Severus continued passed you. His addicting scent glided along with him, a pink tinge staining your cheeks as you inhaled. You turned away from Flitwick, afraid he'd notice your poorly-hidden reaction.

Severus was next to speak as he halted himself beside Dumbledore. "And I've done the dungeons, Headmaster, no sign of Black, nor anywhere else in the castle." He said, his deep baritone ruffling your feathers. You cleared your throat, quietly, glancing away from him. You could hardly control yourself right now. That moment in your greenhouse had really messed with your self-control. Severus glanced at you sideways, a tiny smirk picking at his lips. He must have noticed your crumbling composure.

Flitwick eyed the two of you, a perplexed expression crossing his features.

"I didn't really expect him to linger." Dumbledore replied, hooking Severus's attention from you. Flitwick used this moment to slip away to keep a watchful eye over the slumberous students.

"Remarkable feat, don't you think? To enter Hogwarts on one's own... completely undetected?" The Potions Master drawled as he and Dumbledore began to slowly walk forwards. You caught up to them and settled yourself beside Severus, sheepishly glancing up at him, your hands settling in front of your hips. He glimpsed at you, cocking a brow questioningly, a tingling sensation building in your stomach as you stared up at him.

"Quite remarkable, yes." The Headmaster agreed, his hands floating behind his back, subsiding as they intertwined themselves. The three of you continued walking between the rows upon rows of sleeping students, your shoulders brushing against Severus's now and again.

"Any ideas on how he might've managed it?" You asked quietly, your voice curious but concerned. Dumbledore glanced at you with his wise eyes, rather surprised at you. When the older wizard was around, you tended you keep quiet. However, with Severus beside you, a newfound confidence had arisen within you.

"Many. Each as unlikely as the next." He replied, turning back to focus on the path in front of him.

Severus spoke again, his voice rattling you. It felt as if someone had let off a grand show of fireworks in your chest. "You may recall, prior to the start of term I did express concerns about your appointment of Professor Lupin-"

Dumbledore quickly interrupted him, his voice strict and unforgiving. "Not a single professor inside this castle would help Sirius Black to enter it," he said, looking to Severus, "no, I'm quite convinced this castle is safe, and I'm more than willing to send the students back to their houses." You glanced away for a moment, zoning out as you glazed over the large stained window that had the crest of all four houses set within it. Your eyes lingered on Slytherin and Hufflepuff, flicking between them thoughtfully. Could a Slytherin and Hufflepuff truly work together?

As you'd stopped to admire the window, Dumbledore and Severus had continued on forwards. You stood still, your eyes falling onto Severus's tall, black cloaked figure, a deep sigh leaving your nostrils. Was this a good idea? Crossing the line with a colleague? Or was this a recipe for disaster? You wanted it to work out, but you had your doubts. Minerva's words were etched deep into your mind, and they slowly slithered out of the woodworks, chanting in your head tauntingly.

'I'm not sure you're aware of just how far his trauma goes.'

'Save your heart. Severus will only break it.'

'Focus on Benjamin.'

Oh, Merlin, Ben.

What were you going to do about him...? Do you tell him you kissed Severus? Do you just break it off silently? No, he deserves to know. You needed to be an adult and admit to your wrongs, whether it made you look like a sack of shit or not. You'd made your bed, and now you had to lie in it.

Just as you were going to return to Severus's side, a familiar voice called your name.

"Y/N!"

You turned around, your head snapping towards the voice like a bolt of lightning. All colour had drained from your face as your widened eyes became glued onto the one person you did not want to see right now.

Ben jogged towards you, a worried expression twisting his features.

No, please, no, not right now. This could not be happening right now...

talk about perfect timing, hey?

sorry this was such a short chapter!! i wanted to make it longer, but what better than to keep you in suspense? i hope you have partly forgiven me for this chapter... </3

let me know what you thought!! your replies on the previous chapter had me rolling omfg.

daily reminder that i love you all and to make sure you are taking care of yourselves!! thank you all so much for your continued support, it really means a lot to me, and i hope i am doing this story justice, i have- well, had a plan, but it's sort of gone a different way... however, i’m liking it. :) i hope you are too!

Part 11!

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@hiddlestonspassionsackx

@tellatubbies

@mikariell95

@sunshinemink

@m0rtifiedg0th

@spookymicrowave

@sayonara30

@novas-dreamworld

@ms-snape

@captainrogers-19

@once-upon-an-imagine

@setsuna-meiou31

[kokonut3953]

“Go to bed, Goggles!” Insomniac!Varian X Reader

__________________________

Hi, my little marshmallows! Thank you to alchemicalwerewolf for the request! This post was SUPPOSED to go out 3 days ago, on Varian’s birthday, but it’s coming out of March 27 because I’ve been REALLY sick. Like. Im struggling here 😭😭😭…AAAANYWAYS. Let’s go!!

Y/N’s pronouns: They/them

Type: Fluff, angst

Warning: Swear words

DISCLAIMER: I’m not very knowledgeable about insomnia, I might get information wrong.

__________________________

You’re over at your boyfriend’s lab. It’s 2 am as of now and you’re *trying* to get him to go to sleep.

“C’mon, goggles. When was the last time you went to sleep? I’m asking seriously.” Y/N crosses their arms.

“Hmmm…I went to bed three days ago…that’s enough, right?”

“N-No, it’s really not…” Y/N just stares.

“It’s enough for me, sweetie! I’m not even tired!” He yawns.

“V, you’re yawning. Of course you’re tired. You can’t just ignore your needs.”

“Oh please, (nickname)! I’ll be fine, no worries! It’s all worth it for alchemy!” Varian takes a sip of the hot cocoa that Y/N made for him.

“Varian, you know I can’t let you fuck around and find out what happens with no sleep. You’re going to pass out in the daytime. That’s what always happens to me. I know you only sleep like- once a week. And you know I can’t let you do that.”

Varian lets out a small yawn. “Even so, I can almost never go to sleep. I…I just can’t. Even if I could, I can’t yet. Not while my father is still encased.” An angry look is plastered on his face.

“Varian…please, listen to me. I…no matter what you do, I will stand beside you. But I can’t see you push yourself like this. You can work on freeing your dad tomorrow, okay?” Y/N brushes Varian’s hair out of his face. “Please, goggles? Go to bed?”

“Y/N…I-I’m sorry, but I can’t listen to you. I know what’s right. I’m going to free my father, I don’t care how long it’ll take. I’ll sacrifice weeks worth of sleep before I even think of going to bed for 8 hours.”

He mixes up a chemical, before pouring it on the amber…he waits. “C’mon…c-c’mon-please…” Y/N and Varian watch closely. The chemical evaporates, not doing anything. Varian’s body tenses up, before tears roll down his face. He pounds his fist on the amber.

“FUCK! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK.” As Varian pounds his fist on the amber, he starts to bleed. Y/N drags him away.

“Goggles! You’re going mad! You’re not yourself right now!” Y/N grabs and hugs him.

“No…no…no no no nonononono…i-it’s not…why didn’t it work? I-I-It was supposed to work. It’s not right. I-It’s not…” Varian just stares at the chemical.

After hyperventilating for a bit, Varian hugs back.

“Y/N…I didn’t want to tell you this, but…I’m scared.”

“Scared?”

“Terrified. What if…what if I never see my father again? What if…he’s stuck here f-for years? The rest of my life, even?” *Varian starts shaking.

Y/N removes their headphones and puts them on Varian. “Varian, I know you’ll see your dad. I know you’ll find a way. You’re so smart. You can do it, I believe in you. But…out of good conscience, I can’t let you do this without going to bed. Please, Varian.”

Varian pauses “W-Will you cuddle me before I sleep?”

Y/N smiles, before kissing his cheek. “Of course I will. I won’t leave you.”

“Then…fine. I’ll go to bed…”

“Good.” Y/N picks up the 5��2 (A/N: I’M NOT JOKING, HE’S 5’2…GOOGLE IT.) boy and leads him to bed. They cuddle him tightly. Kissing his forehead.

Though Varian finds it extremely difficult, he starts drifting off to sleep.

Y/N and Varian fall asleep together. Varian sleeps for the first time in three days.

__________________________

Oooookay! We are done! alchemicalwolf, I hope that was good enough! I haven’t been writing fics for too long, oneshots are a bit tricky to me. I will get better with time!!!!

Soooo everyone, please give me more requests (in either the comments or my ask box) so I can write for you guys and improve my writing! Bye-bye for now, my little marshmallows!

[nats-revival]

Jealous and possessive abby - not in a toxic or abusive way but maybe you guys went to a party and your ex or some random decided to act up and be crazy and start hitting on you when everyone knows you're hers so she starts getting protective and marking her territory - she never blames you for it but she just wants to remind you who you belong to so she feels better with your consent if course and you find it hot asf

𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣 | 𝙖. 𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣

pairing: abby anderson x afab!reader

tags: alcohol consumption, mild language, theres a gross man, abby is possessive (per the request), i think that should be everything???, i still stuck at tagging

a/n: was lowkey stuck on this prompt bc i don’t remember the last time i did smth like this but also, i procrastinated like, a lot. tbh i don’t rlly ever proofread anything i write i just post it with a hope and a prayer but wtv! i hope yall enjoy this. 🤍😙😙

bodies filled the house you and abby were currently in. the air smelled like alcohol, sweat, and a mixture of cologne and cheap perfume. this wasn’t particularly your scene, but abby wanted to go since one of her friends were hosting the party. you sorta stood on the wall, nursing a cup of.. something abby mixed for you. she wanted to prepare your drink herself. yknow, cause people are weird and like dropping shit in your drink without your knowledge. the screen of your phone illuminates your features softly under the red and purple LED lights. nobody dared to bother you much because everyone knew you were abbys girl. god, she never shuts up about you! but it’s only because she loves you so much. she also did it because she wanted to make your relationship known, and she’d gladly knock the lights out of anyone who dared to approach you cause she didn’t play that game.

the necklace around your neck had her initial on it. she’d gifted it to you during valentines day last year. it glints a little from the light coming from the screen of your phone. you’d been mid sip when some piss drunk man came stumbling over to you. and suddenly your settings app looked interesting as hell! he stops infront of you with a woozy smile and a flushed face from drinking. lowkey, he was like, really ugly. he’s the kind of guy a girl would only fuck in the dark. “what’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone?” he asked as he looked you up and down with obviously lustful eyes. “ah, im.. actually not alone. im here with someone.” you say as you give him an awkward smile and a chuckle. “i don’t see ‘em. why dontcha come with me? we could go back ‘t my place.. maybe order somethin’ to eat.” you politely decline and give him another awkward smile. while trying to ward this man off, you text abby.

“theres some guy over here flirting w/ me, help!!” you text her while trying as much as possible to ignore the man. he was relentless! he just wouldn’t stop talking and making gross comments. you look up from your phone to find your girlfriend pushing her way to you, through the couples grinding against eachother and making out. she smiles as she approaches you, then wrapping her arm around your shoulders. you lean against her. “so, who’re you?” she asks as she looks at the man, then tossing him an icy glare. “who am i? why should i answer you?” the man had a raised eyebrow and he’d been holding a now empty cup. “well, cause you’re hitting on my girl. so you should probably tell me why you’re doing all this.” her voice was low, raspy and a bit threatening. her possessiveness was dumb attractive, and you surely felt a little hot!!! “hah, this is your girl? she’s outta your league, bro. just give ‘er up. ill treat ‘er soo much better.” the man had become bold. abby didn’t like that. “mm.. nah. she’s fine with me. aren’t you, baby?” she asks as she looks at you. you nod with a small, stupid smile on your face. she presses a kiss on your forehead before she looks back at the man.

her touch had lingered on your skin even when you knew she wasn’t touching you. she sits on one of the chairs with a sigh and you sit next to her. “god, people are so disgusting!” abby said as she lets out an exasperated sigh. she hated when people treated you that way. but you just couldn’t seem to forget that voice she spoke in. the raspiness made this sorta electricity shoot through your veins. she was rambling about something, but you’d began listening when she’d been nearly finished speaking “—that shit wasn’t okay, and nobody should be treating my girl like that. i mean, gosh, some people just really can’t take a hint can they? i was so close to punching him just like id done that other guy but i controlled myself. and, ill just say, it isn’t your fault. i just really don’t like that. you don’t deserve that. not at all.” her voice softens towards the end of her sentence as she places her hand on your thigh gently.

your hand finds itself over hers and you smile at her. “sometimes you gotta punch people for ‘em to understand, yknow?” abby says as she looked at you with the same softened gaze. “abby, no, i will absolutely not be punching anyone… that’s what i have you for. and you hit like, waaaaay harder.” you chuckled. “well, maybe i should show you how to hit real hard.” you shrug, and she smiles at you, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. “how bout we get outta this shithole?” she suggested with a smile. “oh, yeah. let’s go. im literally starving!” the both of you nod as you begin walking off the porch. as you walk to the sidewalk, the guy from earlier comes running and stumbling out of the house. he was after abby. you noticed and alerted her. “oh shit, we’d better run!” she grabs your hand and the both of you run to her car, giggling and looking back at the man (whos running slow as a snail) and forward at her car.

[cloudcountry]

do you have any advice for team building in tokyo debunker? im stuck at case 63 and cant prog in the story until i do it. i have almost 1.9m in power but cant even win victories over ~900k people 😩

UHHH okay my knowledge of this is like ... itty bitty .... but i will tell you what ive been doing & what i know for sure !!! :3 for both card + team building since they're kinda intertwined C:

so this will be under the cut LMAO

lets start with my ritsu card as an example because i love him. where do i even start . Okay.

so these are all your important Bits. awakening, lvl, and potential are all pretty basic, but warding cards, jewelry, the guardian spirits(?), and Skills are less self explanatory.

lets start w skills !!!!

once you press the skills button, something like this should come up. it looks overwhelming but in my experience literally the only thing that really matters is whether your card is a special attacker / physical attacker, and the card's passive skill.

although final stand is a different story...i didnt even realize he had that skill im so fake TT0TT its self explanatory though dw

the card's passive skill determined which slot it should be in on your team.

since shadowed glass has a passive skill that only goes into effect when the card enters from reinforcements, it's important that the card is in either the fifth or sixth slots of squad one or in any other squad after that. those are your reinforcements.

pay attention to revenge and entry skills!!! ritsu has an entry one but some characters apply a debuff once they get killed T0T

as for special & physical attacker, thats important for your warding card

see when i was just starting out i got in the nasty habit of just slapping whatever gems i had onto cards and yk, when you're a beginner player you need all the strength you can get so its actually totally fine to do that But. dont keep it that way. so yk if you have any cards you might have done that to GO CHANGE THEM!!!!

the formula i use is pretty simple tbh i build all the cards the same way.

-> for special attackers, which ritsu is !! i use a special attack gem, an attack gem, and an HP gem.

-> for physical attackers like my haru sr, i use a physical attack gem, an attack gem, and an HP gem.

i use the same gems for the jewelry too ... although i am unsure if thats the best method because i havent gone through each lvl 3 gem to see which one is the strongest which each piece yet so

YOUR FIRST PIECE OF JEWELRY IS HP AND YOU SHOULD ALWAYS UPGRADE THIS ONE!!!! SUPER USEFUL!!! ignore that i havent yet all my resources have been going to my luca card for now ANYWAY.

theres a REASON i havent upgraded this one though. the special attributes for this card are physical not special. ritsu is a special attacker. those skills would do basically nothing tbh. it's still beneficial to increase the potency grade nd stuff but not the attributes yk?

,,,,,,, AGAIN ALL MY RESOURCES ARE GOING TO LUCA HOLD ON. UPGRADE THIS ONE FOR RITSU. DO IT. its important to pay attention to special attributes and build your jewelry just as good as your warding cards that all im saying T0T

if you read all this i appreciate u. i still have more to talk about though so hold on.

LETS GO BACK HERE. go to your lil creature guys button above skills

yes i had to go back for screenshots after my player rank increased shhhhh we dont talk about it. ANYWAY. THESE GUYS ARE ALSO IMPORTANT WHO WOULDA THOUGHT!!

i need an ssr draco for my luca so badly . so this guy ups your special attack!! which is Good. obviously. you know that

I DIDNT TAKE SCREENSHOTS OF THE REST OF THEM FUCK. ok just trust me. lionheart (spiky guy in second slot) increases your attack state, and the turtle increases special defense. Yea i want to put a cleo on him for HP but i dont have one rn TT0TT

the order SHOULD be:

cleo (HP), lionheart (attack), then draco (special attack)

think of it like your jewelry order. they both should have hp first!! then attack then special / physical attack

this made me realize i need to go through my cards and rework some things oops.

[jasperandhenryslovechild]

my predictions for the henry danger movie

in honor of the movie coming out in TWO DAYS!!! im dumping everything ive got & for each prediction i get right i get a gold star from myself for being right/j

disclaimer i haven't watched any leaks or anything that's come out after the one glee dango released where henry falls into missys room so if any of this has been even slightly right plzplzpxl don't spoil it but but :)

once the movie comes out im gonna reblog myself seeing what I got right / wrong (mostly probably wrong but shh) for the funnies, DROP UR THEORIES TO ME TOO IF YOU WANT!!

- missy stole the RAD from evil science corp or smth related to bill evil. how'd she do it? no clue! bill evil isn't in dystopia at all! but it would be like so cool if we reconnected rick twitler stuff even vaguely like that because im never done thinking about it

- henry will end up almost dying and then missy will save him

- charlotte and or ray will have a small little cameo / feature in one of the universes to feed the fans some them breadcrumbs

- there will be an angst/pump up moment between henry & missy where it's kinda a call back to how henry felt really stuck/like shit with ray towards the end & comparing it to how he kinda feels now because he has no clue what to do to fix this? like i rlly do want them to mess w the jaspers sidekick au to its full extent and kinda do a swap between jasper and henrys roles in the series like so in that universe jaspers the super cool flashy hero & henrys the weird comic relief best friend/sidekick & so when our universe henry feels like shit about not knowing what to do its like tenfold because of that aspect?? and missy is gonna have to like pump him up to keep the story going & it's gonna bond them more

- i think the way the different henrys are gonna work is gonna be slightly weird. like for each universe it has its respective henry, but since our henry jumps into all of them what i think happens is that he like rather than becomes a whole new entity in that world he assumes the consciousness of the version of himself that's already there & has vague knowledge of the lore the other henry has lived in. like for example on how that works, our universe henry jumps into the jasper's sidekick au. when he does, he just takes the body of the henry that already exists here but if hes asked to recall some canon event that missy wrote about, he kiiinddaa can, but it's still kinda fuzzy. but like the henrys don't duplicate, that same jasper's sidekick!henry isn't different from dystopia!henry because they're the same guy at their core, so he just like shares a consciousness w that guy for a second. as goes for the other characters in the story!!

- the movie takes place at LEAST a year post the df ending because that would give time for charlotte to end her gap year in dystopia & have been long gone to her new life by the time that the movie plot rolls around. therefore that would be the reason why charlotte isn't in it

- they WILL NOT WIN!! like they'll win in conventional terms like take down vampire piper or smth (which is probably gonna be one of the main antagonists) but there will be implied emotional/physical after effects of some kind that render them not completely victors but still victorious nonetheless

- i stand by the idea that blackouts gonna be in it. the trailer w that dude dressed in all black is ABSOOLLUYTEELY BLACKOUT DEAR GOD!!!! if it's not im gonna be upset but i sossoosososo hope it's him because i really did want to see more of his character because you can't just canonize a soul eating bounty hunter who's out for the protagonist and never address it again like what???

- jasper and henry are gonna be SO fucked up w dystopia and the actual second that piper & schwoz pull up they're gonna try to urge them to go back home immediately without any hesitation.

- also, adjacent to the last two slightly, i don't entirely know if jasper and henry are gonna be the actual like epitome of good vs evil, i think they just take jobs from whoever pays them enough without really background checking the job because it's like.. whatever pays the bills ig!!! since bizwatchs whole thing is "we handle ur bizness" do they really check what kind of business they're handling oorrr?? and i think they might've taken a bit of a fucked up job & accidentally pissed off blackout who was like an ally to the guy they took out and then that's why blackout's after them!! and then that's the entire plot for like 1/4th of the movie until missy pulls up

- speaking of missy, she will be COOL AS SHIT!!! hopefully im gonna end up loving her and if not ill cry

that's all I've got 🗣️🗣️🔥🔥‼️‼️

[shadale-s-safe-space]

I don't know much about you as a person, but from what I can gather you've had a long journey with art, but still have the motivation to continue even when its rough. I'm sure you didn't start out making masterpieces, so if its not too much trouble, do you have any advice for a 16 year old artist losing motivation? i feel like im stagnating right now and its awful

Idk man, all I can say is, draw watchu want without the care who's gonna see it or what they gonna say , commit to new ideas and care less about pleasing everyone, because I know that way too well, I started learning by drawing animals, flowers and nature, "you should draw something else", switches to furries " No you must do human portraits", draws humans *no one fuckin cares*, and I felt miserable drawing what I didn't want all the damn time just trying to please everyone and be liked, hell, I still do that sometimes cuz I'm a dumbass. When in reality, when you do your own thing is when you're the happiest, this internet bullshit? Yeah don't trust the likes and favs, people like what they find relatable, no one really knows how much time you've spent on your drawing or how much you love it, when a 5 min doodle you did could do more than a painting that took 2 whole days to complete just to be scrapped in a new speedy record, paint what you love for yourself and you only.

Don't be shy to learn new things, I have tons of stuff I don't post here cuz I know people wouldn't care about it, but here for this post, have this that I practiced when I felt too depressed to think of anything good and wanted to step back from the MD artstyle

You'll see, you'll thrive when you draw what you want, and get yourself a drawing buddy! That way you'll stop focusing on the internet and more on each other, and each other's improvement. Tbh I struggled with that one. Since everyone I had were not into art irl, I somehow managed to find someone after 10 years of drawing alone. I honestly wanted more people to join in and make an improvement circle, but unfortunately that never happened.

I found myself twice as productive now than ever, even though I'm not active here as much I am still drawing and making things, ofc giving you more comics! And other fun things in the future I hope.

If you're struggling to draw something just do it, man commit, i was uncomfortable drawing men and male characters for years, I've wasted so many years being "too uncomfortable" and draw a naked person like yeesh who fucking cares, it's for studying.

And ofc if you feel like you're not improving at all please, please experiment with your artstyle and try something new, please refresh your mind, I was stuck for years doing the same thing over and over, same colors, same 2px brush, drawing like a machine same shit over and over, I felt so stuck and lost, but also afraid to do something new, idk why, I guess I never felt good enough or deserving of it. I also didn't go to art school, I am NOT a professional, nor will i ever be in my opinion. Hell, me feeling like I'll never be good enough left me afraid to try and apply for art school, they were asking for sculptures, different mediums all that scary stuff and I was like, I don't.. know.. how to do those things... I can't build a portfolio in less than 3 months?!?! I don't even know how to use half of what they're asking for!!

In reality at the end of the day, art is what you make of it and no one can stop you, search for inspirations and don't be afraid to try, yes you'll fail fist 2 or 10 or hell even 100 times, but you'll come back with more knowledge than ever.

For ending I give you the most confusing drawing to ever exist [dw he's just sleeping on top of her and she's just ghasping for air but awe romance or sum lol] is it weird? Yeah but I had a fun time making it hahaha

Idk I'm bad at putting my thoughts together, but hopefully some of this helps.

[coinoperatedbird]

*Neil . . . . . . . . oh dis about to get long and unfriendly...

Second of all - jesus.fucking.christ.on.a.crutch.at.christmas.uphill.in.a.god.damn.yeti.lickin.blizzard.... did you get tired of harassing the H.P. RP community and come here looking for attention? wat the actual fuck my guy? fuck off. im not responsible for Neil**'s actions anymore than Pablo's responsible for them. so take that entirty and fuck right the fuck off with it. preferably very far and away from me. like...the bottom of the the grand canyon. how you get there is entirely up to you. now...

Ok that that bit of the ugly is out of the way...lets move on to the other part of it.... Third of all-- two hundred years? are you a flat earther too? like i mean on top of being an entire tit stuck to a dick? TWO HUNDRED YEARS? How fucking uncultured you are, dear. Like so uncultured that i'm slightly afraid for those around you with your kind of lack in awareness of knowledge. srsly a two second google search would have shown you this...(please see below)

Now in case you also aren't aware of how centuries work...the 17th century covers from the year 1600-1700. (also a fun fact you could google but im saving you the time aren't i just so nice.) And so like last I checked in with the laws of mathmatics....1700 subtracted from 2024 equals 324. So even if we assume the story of little red cap started there and did not originate from any other earlier tale that's still---124 years more than your 'guess'. which is seriously all i can think of you did. guess i mean. had u done ur research clearly we wouldn't be here regarding that part of your ugly statement.

But let's talk about that for a minute yea?

10th century 900-1000 Little Red Cap was first told as an oral tale.

Taken from Google for ease : (Many scholars believe the story originated as a spoken folktale among European peasants as early as the 10th century.)

Now you might say oh that's vague there's no proof how can you prove it all they did was talk, blah blah blah. Go have a sit down with a literary historian, they're much more equipped to explain that to you in a way you would understand. yes i really just told you to go ask someone else because i can not in fact bring my iq down to ur level to explain it to you. its a flaw. im aware of it. i apologize.

Moving on, lets assume u've now had that nice chat with that extremely more qualified and patient person than my self historian. That out of the way we're heading into the next issue with ur nasty wee words...

the 10th century aka 900-1000 is still quite a bit more than 200 years before the 19th (thats 1800-1900) by around what 800 years give or take? and even further from where we are now which would be...2024 minus lets call it 950 for fairness....that's 1074 years again give or take a little. so what do you think that means? did you work it out? you got it? that's right! the story of little red cap and the big bad wolf is approximatly one thousand and seventy-four years old. good job!

Now i can hear you going 'AH HA GOT U! LUKA WAS CAST OUT IN BC AND HIS STORY DIDNT POP UP UNTIL AD!'

That statement is true. well done. but that literally has jack to do with when or where we think his story first got spoken. We know it was a spoken story because it was passed down for ages in other countries that the grimm brother's never visited and yet those people knew the story without every having heard of the grimm brother's book let alone read it. so explain that. can you? i can. its very simple....

all we know is that's as far as memory went. aka that's as far back as the last story teller said it was. let me try to put it another way that's easier to follow... Story teller #10 (for 10th century) - he tells the story...but where did he get it from? the story teller before him. and where did that story teller get it from? most likely the story teller before her. and while that story teller may not have enjoyed the tale and there fore did not tell it often her replacement perhaps did like the story but never had a chance to tell it to anyone but his replacement. and that one (#10) took his master's grief of never having gotten to tell it and told the story many times over his life.

so what does that tell us? that tells us that the story of little red cap and the big bad wolf COULD REALLY HAVE originated hundreds of years prior maybe even thousands. We honestly do not know how old oral stories could be because there is no actual way to tell when the story was first woven to pay for a spot by the fire, or perform there duty in the tribe, etc. srsly we don't know. all we can know is however far back human memory goes, and what we find in stone that's survived. that's the only history that's concrete and funny how not even that is because its the victors that write the histories and the victors always put themselves in the best light they can manage.

BUT NOW LETS TALK ABOUT IRELAND AND WOLVES.

Its one of my favorite topics! why? because there's just so many gosh darn wolves in irish mythology and it kinda irritates me how often they're looked over and forgotten. did you know that ireland actually used to HAVE wolves but they were hunted to existion? did you know that? DID YOU?! No? GOOGLE IT.

Now a super COOL thing about wolves and ireland...(see below)

yea they were actually seen as GOOD things back then. do you have any idea how loved Luka would have been back in the day? just seeing him was a sign of blessing. his pawprints left in the mud under ur window sill a sign of great fortune because he accepted ur gift. do you really not understand just how far he fell? he was the favored servant of a favored and feared GODDESS u uncultured swine. bright and beautiful and terrible. and he was twisted into this half life creature with no end and only the dark that hears him all because of a fucking MISTAKE. because immortal servant or not he'd been human once...and humans error. Fourth and final - - "2 dimensional half assed villain"

you've clearly not read a shred of anything regarding Luka and his background or read a single one of his rps, at all. how do i know? because my rp partners wouldnt lie to me. they've protected me from liars before and fuck u very much but im gonna trust them over ur greyed out glassy douche bagged ass.

The Big Bad Wolf as I protray him in my own mythological universe is not a fucking villain. he is not a fucking hero either. he's fucking tired is what he is. and so am i. so fuck off and fuck you.

TL;DR : let me utterly frank...this hill is not a hill i will die on. this hill is a hill i will slay everyone else on. period. Luka is MINE. i made him. i fashioned him as i saw fit. and he will use the fc i fucking decide to use. i dont give a shit what your opinion is. go get help.

tellin' my ass i should be ashamed. bitch u wouldn't know shame if it ran you over with a mack truck. fuck off.

[weirdhasanxiety]

PLEASE TALK ABOUT YOUR DCU TF CROSSOVER IM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH

Ansjsjejjjdjs EUAHHSHHHAHHHAHAH (holy shit someone’s actually interested????)

Alr so uh spoilers for the end of IDW so be warned (DCU here is continuity soup)

So OP dies(?) at the end of the IDW run, thinking that he’s finally gonna get to rest and put down the mantle of leader once and for all——-

But no. (The Universe (or Primus, haven’t decided) laughs, and shoves him into the body of a homeless drug addict on the streets of metropolis.)

OP, understandably, freaks the fuck out.

He can’t manually override the panic response, none of his pings are being responded to, he doesn’t know how to interpret human nerve signals and everything is too squishy—

he’s basically incoherent for a while, and even when his mind clears he’s only able to worry about Unicron, but the Earth doesn’t appear destroyed, and he can hear chatter (not screaming) outside the alley he’s woken in, so the damage must be salvageable

His first thought is to go back to the cybertronians for help, but discards the idea almost immediately.

(They’ve just fought off Unicron, OP doesn’t know how long he’s been dead for, and he just as well doesn’t want to dig up ghosts that would destabilise their rebuilding social and political structure.)

(If a human showed up claiming to be him of all mechs, he… doesn’t really want to think about the possible outcomes. It’s too ludicrous.)

So OP stays in metropolis. And cries somewhat. (Because no one’s watching him for the first time in forever, and he can finally be something other than Optimus prime, even if he doesn’t know who exactly that is.)

Maybe he finds a homeless shelter or something, metropolis in this universe has minimal issues with that(thematic reasons, will be explained later)

I was originally iffy about the ‘addict’ part of the prev owner because I don’t have enough info on that(and I realised addiction recovery would make this fic far too long and would be a tangent on top of being extremely hard to do right), but OP wouldn’t know what his body is craving + he has no knowledge of routes to get human drugs + he’s used to discomfort from… the body-snatching, so I guess he would just suffer through the withdrawal symptoms

That detail’s mainly here so people that knew the original guy could find OP and have uncomfortable emotions later(I hope it’s not disrespectful, please tell me if it is and I’ll tweak the story to fit)

OP does do some research using the (dead) guy’s phone, and he’s very uncomfortable about inhabiting this guy’s body, and he initially hopes the guy’s alive somewhere and will take the body back eventually, but time goes on and OP’s still stuck, so he just tries to survive (while apologising profusely).

It eventually dawns on him that he’s not where he belongs(outside of the body-snatching thing), because Cybertron doesn’t exist here. Doesn’t exist anymore, despite being the same year he died alongside Unicron.

He looks up any and all incidents he can remember surrounding Cybertronians, but the only mention of Cybertron he can find is a database listing it as a dead world, all members of his race extinct.

No Megatron, no Prime, no Unicron. Just a vague mention of a fatal war.

It takes a while to sink in, actually, and he accepts this fact calmer than you’d think otherwise. He’s mainly too tired to freak out by this point.

(He’s mostly just sad, because this was a very real possibility for his own Cybertron. He wonders how long this Cybertron lasted under the blast-fire, how long their race held up until everything collapsed under their pedes. He stops thinking about it before it can fry his newly-human brain.)

So OP gets a job, and a flat, because the homeless support system in Metropolis is much better than anything we have irl. (And OP is just lucky, I guess.)(It’s not exactly smooth sailing, considering how many jobs he gets rejected from in my notes(lack of credentials ✨), and he gives up on renting flats after a while because the paperwork is something out of the literal Pits(and something else but shhhh), but he’s trying)

After a lot of ping-ponging, he ends up becoming a trucker.

Idk trucker!OP is very very close to my heart

He doesn’t look like one, actually, because this fic is mainly about body dysphoria and like losing your place in the world (he is a fucking midget and going from being the tallest thing everywhere to being shorter than the average man is… well, jarring. His sense of balance is off, his limbs always feel too short, and he only now notices how much his old authority colored his own self-perception, too.)

Driving is when he feels most like himself, now. (I have no idea how this job works, so bear with me, research pending) though roadtrips are substantially less satisfying now that he can’t feel the wind in his turbines and the sweet sweet burn of a low-running engine, but it’s still… something.

it’s more familiar than anything has been, really, and it helps with the gnawing emptiness embedding its code deep inside his not-circuits, and he maybe breaks down a few times on the road as well (four million years of bottled emotions and buried trauma isn’t so easily fixed after all)

And he eventually gets a (second-hand) truck and just basically lives in it(which is why he gives up on the flat) (or maybe he doesn’t, idk, these are just outlines)

OP being OP does try to help people in need, but this is fucking METROPOLIS with superman and co.

mayhaps OP would see someone in trouble and try to help, but be overwhelmed(fucking HUMAN BODY) and superman would swoop in, thank him, but advise him against doing the same in the future if there’s a large chance of hurting himself

(“Perhaps call the authorities,” the large man smiles, sodium-soft and energon-bright, and the glitch in Pax’s gut only twists further. )

OP’s just gonna. Stand there. Sort of stunned, sort of… helpless. (He’s. (he’s so fucking useless.))

but it helps hammer home how he’s not needed here(in a leadership/saviour capacity)

Maybe a superhero fight happens somewhere near him, and his instincts tell him to try and help, and he pushes back to the scene, but it’s over by the time he gets there and he’s left staring at the aftermath and the heroes celebrating their victory

and it’s than that it finally clicks that he’s not needed, no one even knows him, and that’s an absolutely terrifying thought, actually.

But he does make do.

He eventually settles into the quiet rhythm of a human life, beset by occasional flashes of super-villain terror, but even as it unsettles him to be unable to help he’s just fuckign tired (of always not being enough of having to shove all his issues in his pit of being looked up to)

Honestly, he’s sort of relieved, in the end. He just exists. (Even if it’s in a stolen body, even if he misses the rumble of his engines and the comforting flicker of his comms.)

(Things Do Happen Later though. It’s not all just OP being Quietly Unsettled and Very Exhausted, but I’ve been typing this for the past hour and need to get back to Math Hell)

[seafloorscuttle]

okay i think im mixing both options for the soulmate au

so roier ending up back in federation custody would only be half by choice. he'd want answers, and the federation would offer them, and he'd leave cellbit a note telling him where he was going and that if he wasn't back in at least a day then something went wrong

and then he'd go. and he'd learn the truth, and he'd be stuck because he'd threaten to tell everybody everything, and they can't have that. so they'd keep him in the facility while they debate what to do. because no matter how cruel they've been to him and those he loves, he's still their favorite and wiping his memory would be extremely complicated

if they take away everything including the knowledge that they changed him and it wasn't natural and send him back out, somebody else would notice and remind him and they'd end up right back here. but if they only take away the information he'd just learned, then he'd just come back and demand to know again.

it's days of debating and deciding while roier is kept in his old room, hoping that cellbit got his note and the others are coming.

and about the others, this is where both options are mixed in. cellbit and jaiden never lost trust in him, because they know him. and baghera was kind of the first to realize that even if roier was raised by the federation, that doesn't make him a bad person. (I'll explain more about her if people want)

and though the others start not trusting him with a lot of sensitive information after they find out, they're still cordial with him. he's still roier and he's still their friend, even if he's not who they thought he was. and they've seen how upset he's been at the federation time and time again, and by the time roier goes missing most of them have started to trust him again

so when cellbit demands a meeting at the order and tells everyone that roier went for answers and he's gone and he can barely feel their bond? it only takes a little convincing for them to agree to help rescue him.

it takes a while to plan, because they don't know where he is exactly and they need to be thorough. and cellbit is impatient and worried and running on coffee and maybe a few hours of sleep max, but he knows they need to figure this out properly. (and deep down he knows that they've got more time than they normally would, because he knows the federation favors roier. but he wants him back and safe where he can see him because it's been so long since their connection has been weakened and it's starting to remind him of years he'd rather forget)

but eventually they do get to him, and the federation realizes they fucked up because the majority of the fucking island has shown up at their door demanding roier back. and they're not afraid to fight them to get to him

[ants-personal]

anyways more lil tidbits about the everymanhornets au

Whenever otherworldly things take place habit is well aware of who or what is happening and honestly he wouldn't help cause its funny but also that means something else gets to torment evan and that's just not allowed tbh so he helps save tim to save evan so he can go back to being the only thing causing misery

Evan does have knowledge of the other anes simply cause of habit which is distressing he knows whatever happened caused some cracks in his pocket of the universe he knows that tims friends are stuck in the ark suffering and his are stuck in candleverse and fairmount he doesn't share this information.

Habit constantly berates tim for being lame and boring such a let down since from what he's understood tim was suppose to be one of slenderman's big players The masked one meant to help good ol slendy trap others in his games a real top dog and instead he gets... this the masky nowhere to be seen even if habit can sense it laying dormant for now

When masky does show up he is aggressive towards evan evan even when he's himself since he can sense habit any parts of tim are not present and at one point he even bludgeons evan to death with a pipe letting habit take back control puppeteering evans corpse pissed off and clawing deep marks in maskies neck

Tim has been over the years been able to suppress masky and really any control slenderman has with the help of his doctor and new meds plus just being away from the center of activity helps to move on keep the good memories block out the bad creating a space in his head to trap masky in

He uses what he learns to try and help evan at the very least stay in control longer and more with habit course its easier when your alter or whatever isn't constantly whispering in your ears or tearing apart your insides to claw himself to the front seat. It's hard to do but works even when whatever building or maze evan tries to trap habit in inside his mind he always finds a way out pissed off

Tim and Evan are more durable then normal people for obvious reasons but evan is the only here that can't actually died (for now :) habit refuses to let him but he does feel every death the pain never dulls blood never tastes any better. Evans not the biggest fan but will do what he needs to to protect Tim and Habit needs him even if tim hates seeing evans dead body being animated by those shiny dead purple eyes. He has new scars and yeah they are badass okay but still sucks cause when evans back he looks like the living dead and acts like it body trying to keep up. Tim tries to ease his suffering cutting the days drive short so evan can lay in an actual bed.

Along the way slender man's influence does start being able to seep back into tims mind dreams hallucinations doing whatever it can to make tim stop helping habits plan using his friends against him in typical fashion blurs and figures on the side of the road that only tim notices sending information that ends up sending them out of the way cause tim was certain it was something important

Tim doesnt know what the hell the rake is but he sure doesn't like it or the way it's trying to literally eat them. (The sequence i have thought out for this part is inspired on the setting and events of one of my fave into the dark movies *Im Just Fucking With You* but instead of a person evan and tim are dealing with the rake running around causing mayhem and death)

Tim does get stuck in something close to ark a space created specific for him to break him down and stop any progress. Its an endless abandoned building there is not exit and any windows show nothing but pure black void the horrible twisted versions of his friends run and attack throughout the halls. Alex nothing more than a feral man spewing nothing but hatred for tim trying to kill him with the same knife used to kill him. Jay screams out for tim but no matter how fast he gets there jay always dies blood pooling asking tim why he wasn't here till alex finds and chases him away cycle repeats. Now brian is a little different aware of what's happening sometimes unable to fight for control and trying to kill tim himself but when the cycle restarts he tries to find a way out for tim. Eventually on one run he runs into a guy he's never seen before sneaking through the halls trying to find Tim himself talking to himself? He doesn't get the chance to ask before he's transported back to his spawn area

Oh yeah this is where Tims mask returns but he's not the one who finds it. Evan does in what looks like an abandoned classroom there's a message on the board and laying on top of the desk is Tims mask. Evan picks it up a lil amazed because he's only seen this thing in videos and cmon its cool unaware that he has triggered a change in Tim masky coming back in full force standing silently in the doorway eyes white traces of static flicker through them. Posture stiff and breathing slow anger rolling off of him in waves at evan for even touching the mask. Evan tries to get to tim and when its not working and hes getting slowly caged in he tries to run to keep the mask away cause its not what tim wants its futile evan is able to fight him off for a bit hiding and running from room to halls dodging masky and corrupted alex and jay before masky catches him and kills him so he can take back what his. Course habit doesn't like masky or being beaten by him even if it was evan so they end up beating eachother and destroying the place main area of the place till brain is able to find open the door evan had come through and helps habit send both him and masky through it landing them back in the small clearing of the quiet forest. Tims back and panics flinging the mask off his face while habit laughs at him and brags how he very much won that fight

Uhh i have like fun ones too but i have more scene thought out then others as you can see the fun ones are like downtime between evan and tim learning to be a sorta found family but not father son and also bonding over how fucked up their lives were and are :p

[tonydaddingham]

heh im happy to answer questions!! :D im actually not out to anyone online as muslim and so this is incredibly fun for me to talk about sgjkgh

metatron! now i have to be honest, i had never really heard of metatron till.. couple weeks ago when i watched s2! and it seems that this isn't an uncommon thing too, there's much more description of metatron in jewish literature than islamic, his name isn't mentioned in the quran at all iirc, but given the other similarities in religion i thought to look it up and found that! he exists! but i don't know what the whole.. beyond the veil thing entails, really. 😔 not even sure what this "veil" is. regarding metatron i have basically no knowledge at all. we're all learning here!

but! the free will discussion... oof. honestly this is a big topic. as it should be, but a lot of young muslim kids ask this question of.. if everything is predetermined, how can God judge us for our mistakes? we're told we have autonomy and choice to do what we want (which is what makes us human.) but Allah has also predetermined everything. uh. so [shrug] the analogy that stuck with me most was that if a child is given two options for food by their parent, the parent will know what they are going to pick, but they still have the choice. its flawed like all analogies but it is a good framework i think. there's also the thing about Allah knowing everything that will happen but not actively enforcing it? its definitely confusing. i hope i made any sense at all ;-; again happy to answer any questions if that has raised any but i can't.. promise i'll give good answers sjkfhgh [gestures at these paragraphs]

israfil! well, judgement and resurrection are very closely linked. iirc, israfil is the only being (along with god) to know when the day of judgement will happen. he'll blow the famous trumpet once to end all life on earth except himself, and blow it again to resurrect everyone that has ever lived. nods. the second coming doesn't trigger this, but it does signify the end of days.

i hope that answered everything? sorry this was so long 😭 in my defence . uh. i have no defence. my apologies. but thank you for asking all this!! its rare that ppl show interest in my little special interest <3 - 🌙

hello again 🌙 anon!!!✨ well in that case im very honoured you are sharing this with me, anonymously or not, thank you!! thank you for your follow-up ask too; hope you don't mind that i answer both on this post? keeps everything neat and tidy, especially if i need to refer back to it at any point!!!

i was going to put the rest of this ask under a cut but fuck it the below 2nd ask is SO IMPORTANT.

re: metatron, i did do a little bit of reading on their mention in the quran and it reads that uzair (who is possibly ezra?) is also the metatron...? not a question necessarily, just a mark of slight confusion that i need to look into further, haha!!!

free will: that's such a beautiful analogy... i guess it may not necessarily be a predetermination of only one path, but multiple different ones, and it's our choice which one we choose, even if god knows which one will be chosen. but that god doesn't tell us what will happen when we make that choice, because that would influence our decision, and as you said - either way doesn't enforce it. that i believe crosses over into some catholic thoughts on predestination, im not sure, but either way would strike the balance between god being omniscient, and her creations having free will - making the two compatible.

israfil: brilliant, thank you for clarifying, especially where the second coming might link to the day of judgement!!! follow-up q, i read a bit more about the day, and where (if ive read this right), each person had their book of deeds that supports whether they go to heaven or to hell. sort of related: where does the book of life fit into this in Islam? is each person's deeds reviewed, handed back to them in whichever appropriate hand, and they are then scratched from the BOL?

stars: that's... that's not brainrot talking, that's bloody ✨illumination!!!✨ wow!!! even if the star shower scene was before demons existed, the suggestion that the shower started after the angel who crowley was (AWCW) began to ask questions - something that firmly foreshadowed the fall - and given that aziraphale was the one to make him start questioning/then hurriedly cautioned him against asking them... the symbology of AWCW not necessarily protecting him from things that chase away demons, but protecting him from being implicated in whatever punishment was to come??? protecting him from the fall??? my GOD, im ASCENDING. oh my god oh my god oh my god

(wait --- going by the above from 🌙 anon, was i potentially somewhat right in this and this??? like obviously not exactly right, but that aziraphale was himself implicated in the fall, and AWCW protected him/defended him? FUCK)

[wisegirlbeth]

Uhm.. hi Annabeth? I uh, just got claimed as an Athena kid but to be honest, I miss the Hermes cabin so much. I feel like I don't belong here.

I remember before.. everything happened, Luke told me that Hermes kids were jacks of all trades masters of none. It made me feel like I didn't have to be anything. Now.. now I feel like I have to be good at stuff. But I'm not! I feel like an idiot.

I was never smart or crafty or strategic or.. or whatever people expect me to be now! Im never enough! I thought that finally coming here would be it!

But NOOOO i guess I'm back to square one!

I.. im sorry for dumping on you Annabeth.. ma'am? I.. i know you're like a hero of olympus and the architect of olympus and.. and.. why did I even bother.

- Paige

Hey there. First of all; welcome to the Athena cabin. We’re so happy to have you join us.

I understand what you mean. It kind of feels like we have to be the smart ones, the strategic ones, the ones that are never wrong, right? You feel like you’re not worthy or you don’t belong here when you make a mistake or something. Trust me, I get it. I understand the confusion, the pain, because I’n like that too. When I was on that stupid quest to find the Mark of Athena, I felt so, so lost. I wished that I was anyone but me— Hazel with her ability to control the underground, Percy with his ability to control water, Frank with his ability to shapeshift— anything seemed better than what I was stuck with: the ability to, what, think? And I felt stupid. Why was I the one chosen for this quest when I was clearly incompetent?

But then I realized that being a child of Athena isn’t about being a smartass. It’s about constantly pursuing knowledge, to fill the gaps between the known and unknown. It’s about persistence. About pushing yourself to achieve something even when it’s hard and everyone tells you to stop. About putting your foot down and stubbornly refusing to give up when trouble comes in your way. And no matter what they say, you’re a child of Athena. You’re my sister. You don’t have to be a scholar, or a fucking world-class craftsman, or a military general. And the fact that you persisted through all that drama and still stands before me today is evidence enough that you’ve got what it takes to be a child of the goddess of wisdom and warfare.

Have some courage and faith in yourself. Besides, you’re not alone; if you want to learn something new, you can always reach out to one of our siblings. Like you said, I’m a “hero and architect of Olympus”. So if you still can’t trust yourself, trust me. I know you got this. I know you’re here for a reason. Welcome to cabin 6.

[treatbuckywkisses]

HI I STAYED UP WAY TOO LATE TO READ THIS PART !!!! :))

(also this might be my longest rb so far)

SIX UPON A TIME

"You weren’t sure what you wanted him to do, but it was fun to watch the time bomb tick." - let's kiss him on the mouth 🫶🏻

"A reason to get up in the morning." - SHUT. YOUR. MOUTH.

"But then you blink back into reality again when Bucky sits you down on the closed lid of your toilet and slowly makes you let go of his shirt, kneeling down in front of you. The blue of his eyes is devastating, even though you have to keep blinking to keep him in focus." - No I can't do this 

"Maybe that’s the most terrifying thought of them all. You would die for him. Once, twice, however many times are necessary if that meant that he’s safe. " - Nika I'm fucking crying. I wish I was exaggerating but I'm actually fucking crying before 10pm.

"But it seems like you haven’t known it at all, because right now, you feel the knowledge of it, of him, surge through you with all its facets. You can’t even begin to put it into words, because where would you start? How do you explain what he makes you feel when he hasn’t been there himself, not in any way that matters or sticks? And if it’s never happened at all, if time keeps unraveling like this, how can it even be real? " - the woman that you are. Oh. My. God. You are completely unreal this is phenomenal.

"His breath hitches when they dip lower, almost reaching the place you’ve watched dimple when he laughs, but he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t laugh, either." - I have actual tears in my eyes you are so evil 

"That day, he dies with your stupid nickname on his lips, twisted into something that looks strangely close to that earlier smile. This one doesn’t have time to reach his eyes, though." - Nika I'm fucking sick to my stomach what the fuck is wrong with you 

Brief intermission bc I got too into it and read the rest twice before coming back to make notes (I was too immersed)

A crack in the sky you are insane I would FREAK

Where TF does bucky go during the day. As a naturally nosy gal the unknowns in this story make me ITCH I can't wait for everything to be revealed

"Why won’t you look at me? " - this is so hurtful why are you being so mean to me

HOW IS THE DELIVERY MAN EARLY IM LITERALLY IN SHOCK AND WE MOVED ON FROM THIS TOO FAST????????

"You take a sip of your tea and some feeling returns to your translucent fingers. Strange’s cloak draws itself around your shoulders." - hehe we have the cloak 🫶🏻 

""I came to you," you realize. "Or, I will, once I get out of this." The relief that washes over you makes you want to sob. "So there is a way out?"" - why did this make ME relieved like I'm stuck in the loop too 😭 I literally have felt anxious for our dear reader like I'm sick and this has soothed my heart the smallest bit (I'm still scared of you)

"You can’t help but wonder when he’s last tried the bed." - Frick you for putting him in the floor what has my baby done to you let him be comfortable 😭😭 

"No," Strange answers. "This is just when he wakes up." - this made me LAUGH I needed that 

CAPS BDAY IM CRACKING UP THATS SUCH A FUN SILLY MOMENT

"He might has well have doused you in a bucket of ice water. You’re suddenly very aware of every single cell in your body, and you don’t like the challenge sparkling in his eyes." - THEY ARE SO IN LOVE MY GOD IM SICK 

Why are we waking up to silence I'm gonna throw up Nika 

What did the powers do 

Alpine can see us that is both cute and scary 😅 

"You lose a few hours here and there, time seemingly speeding up at random sometimes now. One morning, Bucky isn’t in the gym like he usually is, and you work yourself up over it so much you nearly have a panic attack. In the end, you almost crash into him outside of his room, and a rush of reassurance floods through you with such force you can’t even look at him." - what is wrong with you 

"That time, Sam is there when Bucky gets shot, and it’s his cry that follows you into the next day. Your hands are clean this time, and somehow that feels worse." - how dare you write these 2 paragraphs and also put them so close together????????

"And then it’s you who’s speechless, because the shock on Peter Parker’s face is more than you bargained for." - FULL. BODY. CHILLS. WHAT A MIND YOU HAVE NIKA. I WILL NEVER GET OVER THIS.

"Sweat pearled on your forehead as you and the universe held your breath again. You could feel your hold slipping with every second that wasn’t allowed to pass. Time was impatient with you." - THE LAST LINE ?????? I'm speechless 

"And with time stumbling and flailing around in confusion, you made it out of the building and into the waiting cab." - ok chapter 7 pls 🫶🏻 

I'm kidding you are PERFECT I can't believe I missed out on this for as long as I did?!!!!!!! Thank you so much for sharing your incredible brain with me I want to kiss you on the mouth I love you!!!!!!!

time after time [6]

series summary: After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 12.8k

chapter warnings: maybe reacquaint yourselves with the story premise, it's been a hot minute; characters refusing to be honest with themselves and each other; violence against side characters, minor injury descriptions; strange is still annoying

a/n: this is quite possibly the scariest fic update i've ever made. a lot has happened since the last chapter was posted, and i won't bore you with all of it. suffice it to say, i missed sharing this story. thank you for being patient with me.

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

six: butterfly effect

Working with Sam and Bucky was different than working with Natasha and Steve had been.

At the Compound, it had felt terrifyingly easy to find your place, to slip into the new role they granted you as if you were always meant to fill it. You’d felt that way before, and it hadn’t turned out quite so well. Maybe that was why you used to dread the end.

Now, however, for the first time in a while, you constantly had to prove yourself in order to not be left back in that dark place they’d found you in, alone and trying to make sense of any of it. And you liked that. The challenge was something you could live with, something you could enjoy more than the ever chilling anxiousness that things were simply too good to be true.

So when Sam called you on for a follow-up mission shortly after the first one, you jumped at the chance.

It didn’t matter that you barely talked about anything but work, even when you were hanging out in your spare time; in fact, you much preferred that to digging up the past. You even learned to find a wicked sort of enjoyment in provoking Bucky’s initial dislike of you to the point of where he would barely speak to you at all unless it was to snap at you.

You weren’t sure what you wanted him to do, but it was fun to watch the time bomb tick.

It wasn’t as easy to get under the new cap’s skin.

"You’re making us sound like we’re partners in a law firm," Sam said, a smile clearly audible in his voice even though his eyes didn’t betray it. Bucky didn’t even dignify you with a clench of his jaw.

"What?" you said, crossing your legs. "Every newspaper in the city calls you 'Wilson and Barnes'. Don’t you ever read the articles about yourselves?"

"Unlike some people, I don’t have all the time in the world," Sam said, leaning back on the couch with his eyes closed.

"Pity. The Bulletin called you the 'nation’s new dynamic duo' last week." You looked at Bucky, your eyebrows raised in amusement. "You’ve officially been downgraded to a sidekick, Barnes."

He answered with an empty glare of his own. "And what does that make you?" he said, but not like a question.

"Nothing at all," you still grinned. "Everything is right in the universe."

The reporters had yet to pick up on your addition to the team, which was proof enough that your powers still sufficed to fly under the radar. Combined with the fact that you were actually regularly talking to people again—and people who weren’t your therapist or your customers no less—, things almost felt like they were settling into a new kind of normal. Still somewhat weird, and still a struggle each day, but somewhat hopeful, nevertheless.

You’d almost forgotten what that could feel like.

“Right. You’d prefer people not knowing about your creepy powers.”

"Aww." You tilted your head to the side happily. "You think I’m creepy."

Bucky scoffed into his mug, refusing to look at you like he always did, and then he strolled off again.

In truth, you couldn’t blame him all that much. You’d lived with your powers all your life and still found them unsettling sometimes, particularly when they got away from you and left you trapped in a universe that refused to move.

That was none of his business, though.

Besides, Bucky had taken to moving around so quietly you could never tell he was there until he’d cough and you’d flinch, usually dropping whatever you were holding in your hands. You’d already cracked your phone screen twice.

Not that he’d know, or care if he did. It gave you great satisfaction to erase his amused smirk from existence.

"Give it time," Sam said without moving. "He doesn’t like new people."

"Neither do I," you murmured, and he snorted. "What?"

"Pretend with me all you want, but maybe do a bit of introspection there."

You crossed your arms with a pout. "You sound like my therapist."

"Mhm," Sam hummed, opening one eye to look at you. "You owe me fifty bucks for that."

"Fuck you."

"Oh, would you look at that, the price just went up."

He chuckled as you flipped him off and went to look for the coffee pot.

Of course, your way got blocked. The downsides of not hating having people around.

Bucky was leaning against the counter, considering you. "You go to therapy?"

"You should try it some time," you said distractedly, reaching around him to get your favorite mug. Bucky recoiled like he was afraid you’d burn him. You shook your head in annoyance. "Helps with the stink eye."

"Is that what they told you?"

"They told me I needed to process my grief, but I decided to focus on some more achievable goals." You took a sip of your coffee, sighing in comfort. "We came up with a compromise."

Bucky scoffed, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He still hadn’t taken his gloves off around you.

"Sounds like a way to drag it out," he said.

You frowned into your cup. "It’s not a race, Barnes. There’s no finish line for this shit."

Something odd went over his face, but he went back to avoiding your gaze when you tried to make it out. You knew him well enough by then to get the hint, and so you left him alone.

What was it to you if he didn’t want to warm up to you. That had no bearing on the fact that overall, your situation wasn’t all too bad anymore.

It was something, you supposed as you curled up in your spot on the couch with your book later that day, slipping in and out of time to keep your company a little longer because deep down, you knew you were sick of being alone.

It was weird and different, yes, but it was still something anyway. Something to do with your afternoons again.

A reason to get up in the morning.

*****

"What are you talking about?" Bucky asks quietly, carefully, but he makes no attempt to pull back from your embrace. It allows you to take another shuddering breath, inhaling his scent until it makes you dizzy.

The fact that you probably won’t be this close to him again any time soon makes you press into his chest even harder, hard enough to feel his heart flutter against your forehead, the shock of the situation making it pick up speed.

For a split second, you slip into a sort of vacuum, your thoughts quieting as he keeps mumbling to you, and in that blissful moment, your situation doesn’t seem quite so dire anymore, more like a bad dream. You’re safe now, aren’t you? How could you not be?

But then you blink back into reality again when Bucky sits you down on the closed lid of your toilet and slowly makes you let go of his shirt, kneeling down in front of you. The blue of his eyes is devastating, even though you have to keep blinking to keep him in focus.

You don’t want to have to do this, you realize once your gasps for air start calming again. You’re not sure if you can bear it.

But nothing in this loop has been about what you wanted.

And so your resolve is made, with your heart sinking until it’s hidden away deep, deep inside of your chest. You ball your hands into fists to keep your fingers from twitching.

Two or three times he watches you inhale, start to say something, halt before you can, almost choking on it. Like your body is refusing to go through with it.

"How do you know when I’m lying?" you finally ask, and your voice sounds oddly clear in your small bathroom.

Bucky’s face goes from concern to confusion, his frown deepening. You want to smoothe it away with your thumb.

You close your eyes so maybe the temptation goes away.

"What?" he asks, and he still sounds so damn gentle.

"I’ve never been able to lie to you," you say. "What’s my tell?"

You can feel him move away from you and the ache of it makes you look again. His shirt and his hands are covered in his own blood, and you’re sure there’s some fucking metaphor in the way it stains the golden inlets of his vibranium arm crimson but for the most part, you can’t unsee the damn irony of it all.

Because you’ve pissed him off now.

"You scared the shit out of me, Y/N. And Sam, too." There’s the sharpness in his voice you know all too well. You haven’t heard it in a while. "What the hell is going on?"

"I’m trapped in a time loop," you say, squeezing your fists more tightly. "I’ve been reliving this day for weeks, my powers aren’t working, I’m the only one who can stop time from completely collapsing, I can’t do that without my powers, and you’re gonna die later today. Am I lying?"

It’s maybe the worst way you’ve ever told him, because watching Bucky’s face change is almost too much. This is exactly why you’re doing it, though; as long as you’re going through this loop with a giant guilty knot in your stomach, you’re not going to make any progress. And you need to put an end to all of it.

So you meet his gaze, almost unwavering, and you don’t blink.

His shock bursts free as an incredulous laugh. "What?"

"I’m stuck," you say again, slower, nodding at his hands, his blood, continuing to push, "and you keep dying."

Bucky looks down, then, before his gaze falls back onto you and he sits back on his heels. The pause lasts for way too long, heavy and smelling of iron, and you’re pretty sure you’re suffocating. He only says one word, and it sounds so defeated. "How?"

You swallow heavily. "You got shot on a mission," you say, but he shakes his head, the fire returning to his eyes.

"No. How did you get stuck?"

"I …" You blink, because you’re not prepared for this question, because you can never predict what he’s going to say, because he keeps doing that to you, because somehow, and not like you’ve expected, you feel like you’ve been here before.

How did it happen? That’s not … Okay.

"It was an accident," you finally say, helplessly, defensively.

There’s a flicker of something in Bucky’s eyes. "What happened?"

"You died. You died that first time and I didn’t—I couldn’t …" You swallow the sob that threatens to shake your voice again. Damnit, you’re supposed to push him away.

He moves his arm, then hesitates, as if he wants to reach out to you but changes his mind at the very last moment.

Right. He doesn’t normally do that.

Except he has.

He has held your hand and pulled you closer and written on your arm and let you lean on him with the full weight of your body, as if to him, you weighed nothing at all. He’s been offering to carry your load so many times, and he doesn’t remember a single one of them.

"Please don’t look at me like that," you say tonelessly, watching Bucky retreat.

"Like what?"

"Like I’m gonna fall apart at any moment. And yes," you add when his mouth opens, "I—I know I just did, I’m aware of the irony, but this is exactly why I can’t keep telling you, I don’t—I can’t stand it." You press your wrists against your temples, ignoring the buzz of the whirling time symbols against your skin, the stinging in your eyes. "You shouldn’t even—I mean, are you even the slightest bit worried about yourself? Because I feel like I’m the only one here, and I should’ve just—"

You stop yourself, shaking your head. Your hands are very clammy all of a sudden, and when you tug at your rings just to do something, one of them slips off your finger and clangs against the tiles as if to punctuate the silence.

When you reach down, you move your wrist in a way that makes you hiss in pain and flinch back. Bucky’s eyes flit between your own and your hand, his frown deepening in a strangely soft way. "Did you break it?" he asks quietly.

"I’m fine," you mumble, and he looks at you disapprovingly. "You’d grabbed my hand just before …"

His jaw twitches as the blame settles in again, and you would do fucking anything to finally make him understand that none of this is his fault. That you should be in pain for what you’re putting him through.

"It should’ve been me," you tell him, because it’s true.

Even earlier in the week, you would’ve taken great delight in seeing Bucky Barnes’ face fall at something you’d said. Hell, you’d have probably enjoyed it on Thursday, because there used to be this easy sort of gratification that came from riling him up, from catching him off guard.

Seeing it now, though?

It makes your fingers twitch.

"Don’t say that. Not even as a joke."

"I’m not joking." You can feel your pulse in your ears. "They aimed a shot at me, and you pushed me out of the way, and you died. So by all accounts, if your instincts weren’t so damn noble all the time, it should’ve been me, and if I weren’t such a fucking coward, I’d have gone back and switched places with you weeks ago."

The thought terrifies you, even though it’s true. No part of you wants to go through the things Bucky is, but if someone gave you the choice between either one of you right now, you wouldn’t even have to think about it.

Maybe that’s the most terrifying thought of them all. You would die for him. Once, twice, however many times are necessary if that meant that he’s safe.

"I’d like to see you try," Bucky says, and something slams into your chest as an old familiar shiver runs down your spine.

There’s a pained edge to his gaze, contemplative and heartbreaking and …

"You’re doing it again," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What am I doing?" His hand brushes your knee, and your skin is left searing.

You swallow heavily. "Being noble."

Bucky chuckles softly, and his eyes leave yours for just a moment. "Don’t exactly feel like that."

He’s beautiful.

It’s a new thought, despite everything. Even when you’ve noticed it before, you’d roll your eyes at the fact and move on, because this was Bucky. So what if his face was delectably handsome?

But it seems like you haven’t known it at all, because right now, you feel the knowledge of it, of him, surge through you with all its facets. You can’t even begin to put it into words, because where would you start? How do you explain what he makes you feel when he hasn’t been there himself, not in any way that matters or sticks? And if it’s never happened at all, if time keeps unraveling like this, how can it even be real?

So it’s pure instinct that makes you move, like someone would pinch themselves to ensure they’re not asleep, even though you’re very aware that this isn’t just a dream. You need to confirm that Bucky is real, though.

The air stands still when your fingertips trace along his cheekbone, leaving a delicate flush behind in their trail, barely touching and yet …

And yet.

His breath hitches when they dip lower, almost reaching the place you’ve watched dimple when he laughs, but he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t laugh, either.

There’s a scraping sound at the closed bathroom door, followed by a short knock. You flinch backwards.

"I’m leaving the first aid kit on the bed," Sam calls from the other side. "Just … holler if you need me."

"Thanks, Sam," Bucky says coarsely, and you can hear steps receding. The scratching continues, though. That damn cat.

Finally, he breaks eye contact, clearing his throat.

"Do you want me to help you clean up?"

You shake your head. You’re not sure you could stomach more of this. "I’m good, don’t … Don’t worry about it."

Bucky drags a hand through his hair, muttering something to himself you can’t quite make out. Slowly, he gets to his feet again.

"We need to come up with a plan," he says, and you want to cry except … you’re tired. Tired and sick of this.

"I need to come up with a plan," you correct him. "We have been trying to do this as a team for weeks, and it doesn’t change anything except waste time and …" And hurt. "I can’t do it anymore, Buck."

There must be something in your voice that thaws his defiant glare a little. "So what’s the plan?"

And with a sigh, you fill him in on everything that’s been going on with Strange and your powers. Again. One last time.

You have to do this alone.

Bucky ignores your insistence that you can manage just fine and sets your wrist while you talk. Alpine, now free to roam wherever she pleases again, has decided the bathroom isn’t quite that interesting after a short look inside, and is now taking a nap in the spot of sunshine next to your bed.

"New deal," he says once you’re done, once he’s thought about it all, and you raise your eyebrows. "Don’t do anything stupid."

"You know me," you smile, checking the makeshift dressing around your hand. The green symbols are hidden by the layers of gauze.

Bucky doesn’t bite. "I’m serious, just—don’t."

"How would you know?"

"I wouldn’t," he says, snapping the first aid kit shut so vehemently Alpine’s tail twitches. "But I trust you."

Your head whips up at his words, even though his back is still turned to you. He doesn’t see your face as your heart is jostled into a new rhythm, so violently and unexpectedly that you lift your hand without thinking, pinkie outstretched.

"Promise."

He smiles when he notices, and you wish you could take a picture to carry with you through the rest of this nightmare.

That day, he dies with your stupid nickname on his lips, twisted into something that looks strangely close to that earlier smile. This one doesn’t have time to reach his eyes, though.

***

There’s been a change in the weather.

Not literally, no; of course not literally. Fuck, you long for a single cloud, a raindrop, a damn hailstorm to break the streak of endless perfectly sunny days that don’t fit your mood in the slightest.

But there’s a tinge to the sky that makes your stomach turn. It’s not very obvious to anyone who hasn’t looked at the exact same sunset for weeks on end, just a single strip of color across a storybook horizon. It looks like a crack.

"Do you see that?" you ask warily when you notice it for the first time, ominous and yet almost completely hidden by the trees and the buildings. Just dancing around the edge of your vision like another mockery.

"What?" Sam asks, eyes not leaving the path ahead.

"That … thing in the sky. What is that?"

Bucky stops and squints at where you’re pointing. "It’s called a cloud," he says dryly.

"With that color?" you murmur, but continue walking when he stops to turn to you, your wrist tingling. His stare is searing your neck, but you ignore that, too.

The best course of action, you’ve learned, is to shut your brain off as soon as you get out of the quinjet and just go through the motions, trying to ride out the mission like you’ve done dozens of times before. There’s a sort of autopilot you’ve fallen into after a couple of days, and it’s the only thing keeping you somewhat sane. Most days, it means it’s all over quickly, and you can’t help but feel glad about that.

You’ve given up trying to change your own actions to get him through the day.

But this …

It’s something new, and in all this monotony, that thought is both frightening and exciting. It distracts you enough to get you off script.

"Lovely interior design," Sam mumbles like he always does.

"Remember how this was supposed to be a day off?" You kick one of the pebbles in your path with a sigh. "What happened to 'don’t worry, Y/N, after training the day is all yours'?"

"Occupational hazard," Sam says, checking his map for the thousandth time.

"You know what I mean."

"Don’t you have tomorrow off?" Bucky says over the intercom.

Tomorrow. "Right." It comes out somewhat strained, your fingernails digging into the palm of your hand. "And why do you know that?"

Sam shakes his head and there’s a brief crackle of static in your ear. For a fraction of a second, you nearly dare to hope Bucky will give you an answer, even though you have no clue what it would be.

"They’re heading your way now," he says instead, "so get a move on."

And just like that, you’re back on track.

Quickly clearing your throat of the lump that has formed there, you say tonelessly, "I probably only have one reset left. Two, if we’re lucky and you two aren’t being stupid again."

It’s taken you a while to get used to it. To the constant lying.

You’ve worn fingerless gloves on missions before, so that’s not raised any questions from the others yet, and your rings stay hidden away. You’ve been more reluctant to take them off since the one you lost on your bathroom floor vanished into thin air.

The other thing you’ve picked up on while endlessly repeating this day is that Bucky is less likely to catch you in a lie if he can’t see your face.

So you’ve made an effort of spending as little time as possible with him.

It’s surprisingly easy to stay in your room for the majority of the day, because he doesn’t remember it ever being any other way. Even today’s little exchange will be lost to the loop soon enough, just like that little pause he made, just like the bullet through his heart.

Still, when you wake up with a start on Friday, July 4th, you look at the sky first. Its perfect blue doesn’t soothe the sinking feeling in your stomach at all.

You’ve been waiting for something to change for weeks, and now that it’s here, you don’t like it at all.

"What did you expect?" Strange says with an infuriating composure once you’ve nervously recounted your experience. "I told you, time isn’t supposed to get stuck in this way. Of course your reality was going to act up sooner or later."

"I really feel like you should be more concerned about this," you mutter, letting a ball of green energy pass from your left hand to the right. It’s about the size of a quarter now.

"Honestly," Strange answers, "I thought something like this would have happened a while ago." He taps his fingers together. "Again. Slower."

"So what am I supposed to do then, just ignore it?" The green ball pulses with your indignation, turns around itself once and then sinks into your palm again.

"In all likelihood, it’s a one time glitch. If everything is back to normal today, I wouldn’t worry about it."

Your thumb rubs across the empty space on your finger. "Easy for you to say if you’re not the one who’s stuck in an endless hellscape."

"Aren’t I?"

You both roll your eyes at each other, but then you bite the inside of your cheek again, unable to shake the feeling of a whole new shade of dread. "What if it’s not just a one time glitch?"

The corners of Strange’s cloak roll up on themselves, and he doesn’t meet your eye when he says, "We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it."

It’s still early when you return to the present, too early for Bucky to be back from wherever he’s always going, so you decide to venture out of your room again, stretching your tired limbs. You’re pretty sure at this point that waking up on the floor is never going to feel fun.

Sam is in the kitchen as always, reading something on his laptop. He’s still sitting down, which means that it’s even earlier than you expected. You miss these early parts of the day, the calm before the storm.

If today were only made up of these few hours, you suppose, it might not be half so bad.

You pull up a chair next to him and lean a cheek against your hand. "What’re you doing?"

"Research." Sam sighs, rubbing his temples. "Remember that ULTIMATUM group?"

"Never heard of them," you say with a small yawn. "Is that an acronym? What does it stand for?"

Sam gives you a glare and your mouth twitches slightly.

"Anyway," he continues, turning his laptop so you can see the article he’s reading. "They’ve been more active again lately. Acquired a couple thousand dollars’ worth of lab equipment through one of their contacts and then went underground again."

Of course, you know all this. You’ve been over it again and again, back when you were all still trading information like it could save Bucky’s life. Like there was a deeper meaning behind any of this damn loop other than the fact that you, and you alone, fucked up.

Useless.

You close the mental door on those thoughts and take a deep breath. You hate to admit it, but all of this sitting around with your thoughts bullshit you’ve been doing has actually helped you to clear your head somewhat—if only to make it through the parts of the day you can’t avoid.

"And now what?" you ask, pretending to just have reacquainted yourself with the topic.

"Now," Sam says, taking his laptop with him as he stands up and strolls over to the kitchen island, "I’m waiting for Torres to get back to me so we can decide our next steps once we’re all recovered." He gives you a meaningful look and you scowl.

Then, slowly, his words register in your brain, and you stare at his back as he stretches and then moves to make some coffee, wordlessly taking one of your mugs out of the cupboard as well as his own.

"You don’t seem too worried," you say hesitantly.

Sam shrugs. "Until we have a proper lead, there’s not much we can do. And I doubt they’ll be doing any actual damage any time soon. They’re a lot more covert than the Flag Smashers ever were."

"Right," you say, more to yourself than in response.

"Try that again, less convincing?"

"I don’t know," you mutter, slowly following him to lean against the fridge. "Just … what if Torres did find something? Should I be getting ready?"

Sam frowns. "Are you not telling me something again?"

You try to shake the thought, pulling your arms around you. "Forget it."

You don’t, though.

It keeps bugging you, because that day like any other day, he knocks on your door at 4:32 on the dot, and you go on that mission anyway. And even though this has been happening for weeks, you’re just starting to suspect that you are, in fact, still not getting the whole picture.

***

Catching a glimpse of Sam’s phone turns out to be more difficult than you first thought.

You’re still trying to get the timing exactly right a couple of days later, and you miscalculate enough to catch Bucky on his way upstairs.

"Hey," he says, his shoulders tense when he looks at you. There’s a restlessness to him that he’s not quick enough to hide; or maybe you’ve just grown more perceptive when it comes to him.

"Hi," you say, crossing your hands behind your back. "Where’ve you been?"

He shrugs. "For a walk."

You already know he won’t elaborate if you try poking, so you don’t. "Was it good?"

"Lotta people." He hesitates when you continue to not meet his eye, and then he says, "Do you want to talk about it?"

You swallow, ignoring the tingling sensation on your wrist. "Not particularly. Do you?"

Bucky’s jaw twitches. "Nah."

Somehow, you feel like that’s also a lie. Once again, you’re left wondering.

The silence between you stretches as you continue to not quite look at each other, until you finally clear your throat, nodding at the front door. "I’m getting coffee, do you want something?"

Honestly, it’s just an excuse as to why you need to leave before he notices something off again somehow, but Bucky tilts his head in amusement.

"Didn’t you just get some this morning?"

"So? I like coffee."

"Really. I never knew."

"Screw you."

You can hear him huff behind you, but thankfully the door falls shut before you can do anything stupid. Like turning around to face him, for example.

You miss his eyes.

Why won’t you look at me?

When the elevator doors open, you almost yelp into your delivery guy’s face. He stumbles a half-step backwards, somehow managing to keep a hold of the boxes precariously balanced on his arm while he’s reading something on his phone.

"Oh my god," he lets out, "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I was just …"

"Early." You blink.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing," you say, frowning only a little. "Wait, let me get that."

You quickly sign for the delivery and open the door with your keycard, holding it open for him. You’re not exactly afraid of burglars these days, and besides; you know this guy by now.

"If you could just go straight ahead and to the right, that’s where the kitchen is."

"Sure thing," he shrugs. "Thanks—"

His mouth snaps shut and he blushes a little as if he wanted to say something else but thought better of it.

You’ve introduced him to Sam enough times you know he’s going to be fine, so you just smile and wave him in.

When you step out on the street, you instinctually look up at the sky. It’s outrageously blue, blatantly perfect for an endless Friday, and even when you squint, you can’t make out any irregularities.

It’s a tiny relief, but a relief nontheless.

Lucy is leaning against the wall just out of sight of the storefront, an unlit cigarette dangling between her lips as she rummages through her pockets. Her colorful makeup has begun to melt off in the sweltering heat, making the red-white-and-blue stars on her cheeks bleed into each other to look somewhat purplish.

"Are you off or on break?" you call over.

She lifts her head, the glare vanishing when she recognizes you. "Counting the seconds," she says. "Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You sidestep a couple of pedestrians hurrying to cross the street and join her. "Not really."

"I hate you." She finally fishes a lighter out of her back pocket, sighing contentedly as she takes her first drag. "I swear, this day just won’t pass."

Fine. Maybe your chuckle is a little shrill. "I’m sorry."

Lucy waves you off with a gesture crude enough to make a young dad with a stroller send the two of you a dirty look. "You without your shadow today?" she asks, inspecting her nails.

You blink. "My shadow."

"You know. Your friend who’s been in here eight thousand times and still gets confused when he orders." A cloud of smoke vanishes into thin air. "Kind of the lingering type, isn’t he?"

"He’s old," you say, because for some reason nothing else comes to mind.

"Not that old."

"No," you agree, "not that old."

For a moment, you’re afraid she’s going to ask you to pass her number along to him, and you’re already scrambling to find an answer somewhere in the depths of your brain, coming up empty. That’s the problem with being able to unhave entire conversations; you don’t usually really have to deal with reactions if you don’t want to.

Without your powers, though, you’re stuck, and it’s making you wish you hadn’t come here at all.

Instead of any of that, she pulls a flyer out of her other pocket. "Sorin and Cass are doing a gig in Brooklyn next week, do you wanna come with? They’re still terrible, but they got a new bassist who seems alright."

You take the flyer, staring at it. "I didn’t know they’re in a band," you admit.

The truth is, you’ve never paid that much close attention to the people you work with. Maybe that’s been a mistake.

Lucy shrugs. "You’re always doing your own thing." It stings, even though you’re pretty sure she doesn’t mean for it to. "It’d be fun if you came, though."

"I’ll think about it," you say, and your smile is a little unsure, but genuine.

So is hers.

"If you don’t want to hang with us all night, you can bring some friends, too." Her emphasis hangs in the air between you like a dare.

You snort. "I feel like this isn’t quite their scene."

"You feel like or you know?"

"Isn’t that the same thing?"

"No." She puts her cigarette out on the wall behind her. "Knowledge is based on experience. On memories. Your feelings don’t sit in your head. And so they don’t make sense and they’re not necessarily true." She winks.

"You’re weirdly smart," you say, shaking your head.

"I know. It’s a curse." Lucy sighs. "Anyway, think about it. I gotta get back to hell."

"You know," you say with a grin, "I could really do with a frappuccino right about now."

"You know what you could do?" she answers in her sweetest customer service voice, pointing you down the street. "Get in a trash can."

Damnit. You might actually grow to like Lucy.

She taps her fingers against her temple and then shuffles back inside, a hot rush of air blowing out of the AC as the door opens. You fold the flyer up to fit into your back pocket, hoping you’ll make it to that concert one day, and then you walk on, aimless again for the moment.

***

Time passes while it’s standing still.

The problem is, at least for the moment, that by all appearances you’ve reverted back to square one. Going through your day as though any of this is even remotely normal, counting the hours and minutes to reenter the astral plane and feel some semblance of control again.

It’s been nice, really, if you’re ignoring the constant underlying feeling of dread.

Which you’re getting better at.

You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume.

Rinse and repeat.

You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume.

Even on days when you’re sure you’re making progress with your powers, every reset makes it just a little harder to keep dragging yourself onwards.

You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume.

"You look like shit."

Your head rolls to the side slowly, allowing yourself a glance while Bucky is still distracted with his arm. Concentration makes his brows knit, and something warm spreads in your chest.

"I’m so tired," you say, voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t look at you, but you’re grateful for it for once. Your eyes are stinging a little.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Yes. Yes. Yes.

"Not particularly."

"Do you want to talk about something else?"

You almost smile. "Like what?"

Bucky shrugs with one shoulder. "Like the fact that you just planted Sam into the mat head-first and yet made a face like you killed a puppy?"

Sometimes you wonder how he still manages to slip in without you noticing, no matter how many times he does it.

"Did I?"

"Did you kill a puppy? I’d hope not."

Your body’s been getting stronger, anticipating Sam’s every move. At this point, it’s not so much training as it is an exercise in muscle memory; but how would he know that?

It still isn’t enough. It’s never enough.

You pitiful, selfish, useless bastard.

"You’re doing it again," Bucky says and you blink.

"Doing what?"

"I don’t know, but I don’t like it."

Something inside you twinges uncomfortably and you wrap your arms around your knees, pulling them into your chest. "That might just be me, period."

Bucky huffs. "Take the towel on the right," he says. "I already used the other one."

So you do.

And then you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume, and then you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume, and then you wake up with blah, blah, blah.

"I can’t do this anymore."

Strange watches you, but you don’t get up from where you’re lying, blankly staring at the ceiling, feeling like your chest is about to explode.

You don’t want to feel like something is tearing you apart every single time, even though you know it’s not permanent. There’s always the tiniest glimmer of hope that this will all be over soon.

Or maybe it’s dread.

"Maybe you can’t," Strange answers.

You blink, sitting upright. "What?"

"Maybe you are actually incapable of cleaning up your own mess. You’ve never had any training before, after all. Maybe you’re too weak."

Useless. Not good enough. Waste of time.

"If this is reverse psychology, it’s not working," you say through gritted teeth, pressing your eyes shut so tightly they don’t burn anymore.

Strange ignores you. "Maybe you’re going to be stuck in this loop forever. If that’s the case, there’s no point to keep trying either. Maybe we should just call it a day."

You can feel your breaths coming in shorter.

"Maybe you’re just going to keep failing to save anyone for the rest of your life."

"Stop it!"

An explosion of power goes through your body, bouncing off the walls and bathing the room in a ghostly green light. You cough and curl into yourself as you watch it billow, still echoing the words back at you, "too weak", "stuck in this loop forever". Your bones are heavy with exhaustion.

Strange crouches down next to you and a cup of fragrant tea draws itself up to the side of your face.

"You’re drawing the bulk of your power from pain. From a desire to fix things that you think you alone are responsible for when the truth is that each and every one of us is constantly creating reality."

"Fuck you," you mumble. When you sit up, your head is still swimming.

"You cannot keep this up."

"If I’m such a lost case, then why do you bother?"

"I’m trying to tell you that you’re not." He points at the walls, still covered by that greenish fog. "This is the strongest display of your powers I’ve seen from you yet, and it only happened because you were lashing out. Pain is not a sustainable source of energy. Imagine what you could do if you could be in control."

Do as I tell you.

"There’s no way to control my powers on a larger scale. It’s impossible."

"You keep telling me that, and yet you keep coming back. Why?"

You push yourself up to your elbows, wiping at your face. "Because I have to hope, right?"

"And there it is."

You take a sip of your tea and some feeling returns to your translucent fingers. Strange’s cloak draws itself around your shoulders.

The wizard himself stays quiet for another minute or two, before he asks, "Why do you think I’m talking to you right now? Helping you, even, nevermind your constant whining and your insistence that this won’t work, after you’ve spent your whole life running away from anything resembling actual responsibilities."

"I didn’t—"

"Answer the question."

"Because I created a time loop?" you guess.

"But you already know that this loop is just one point on the timeline. A single day, repeated endlessly, but going exactly like it was always supposed to, once resolved. So, without the time stone and my privileges as the Sorcerer Supreme, and with your protections still in place, how would I have found you?"

He knew exactly where and when to look for you. But he’s right, that shouldn’t even have been possible unless …

"I came to you," you realize. "Or, I will, once I get out of this." The relief that washes over you makes you want to sob. "So there is a way out?"

"Of course there is," he says, surprisingly gently. "Time isn’t supposed to get stuck."

You sit with that for a minute, hiding your face in your hands as Strange stays silent. Finally, you take a deep breath and look at him again with newly sharp focus.

"So why don’t you just tell me how to do it?"

He raises an eyebrow. "You know that’s not how it works."

"Yes. It is. It’s literally what I do all the time."

"What you do is leaving realities you don’t like by turning backwards."

"That’s not true."

"Just because your motivations aren’t entirely selfish doesn’t mean you’re right."

You’re so damn exhausted. The frustration of this whole thing is really starting to scratch at your sanity, and there’s an ache in your chest as you stare at your own sleeping face, biting the inside of your cheek, thinking.

Strange snaps his fingers to get your attention back.

"I’m not a mind reader," he says. "Out with it."

"I want to see him," you say, getting up. The cloak flaps around you in a very satisfying way. "Bucky. It’s early this morning, right? Just before the loop starts again. That means he’s upstairs."

"And what’s seeing him going to do?"

You ignore him and walk towards the door, reaching for the handle. Your hand goes right through it. You try it several more times, to no avail.

"Heaven help me," Strange mutters behind you.

Shutting your eyes, you take a deep breath. The circle of green tingles around your wrist.

Then, you walk through the closed door.

You fully expect to crash into the wood head first, but instead you feel the door moving through your noncorporeal form, and then you’re standing on the other side.

With a startled hum, you turn left, not waiting to see if you’re being followed.

You only hesitate in front of Bucky’s bedroom door. You’ve never actually been inside his room since he’s moved in; well, apart from that time he patched up your feet and you woke up in the astral plane for the first time. It feels odd to consider entering without him actually being aware of it.

Then again, there’s quite a few things at this point that he’s unaware of.

Before you can make up your mind, the door swings open just a little, and you automatically take a step back. Alpine sleepily slinks through the gap and trots off in the direction you came from, probably to sit in the kitchen and mope until FRIDAY activates the food dispenser again. On the stairs, she passes Strange who raises an eyebrow at you.

"Changed your mind?"

You glance into the room.

At first, you can’t find him. The bedding looks untouched, and there’s a brief flurry of panic that makes you step inside before you can keep questioning yourself.

Bucky is lying on the floor next to the bed, his hands balled tightly into an old throw blanket. It’s haphazardly draped across his torso, like he’s been trying to wriggle free during the night. He grimaces in his sleep.

Try the floor.

You can’t help but wonder when he’s last tried the bed.

"Can he hear us?" you ask quietly, not needing to look over your shoulder as you sink to the floor next to Bucky.

"No," Strange says. "Not until you put in a lot more work."

"Would he remember if I did?"

"I don’t know."

You do look back at him, then. "You know, considering your position you don’t know a whole lot of things."

You concentrate on your own hand until you’re starting to feel cool metal underneath your fingertips, ignoring the throbbing of your head. Carefully, you touch the crease between his brows, smoothing it out tenderly.

Bucky sighs a little in his sleep, but doesn’t stir. Doesn’t stop quietly murmuring in his dreams.

"You feel better?" Strange asks.

"Not really." You’ve already reached out to him without it having any repercussions too many times. "But that wasn’t the point."

"What was?"

"Just …"

Comfort. He brings you comfort, even when he doesn’t know it. It’s the same reason you keep waiting for him to arrive in the gym in the mornings, even though you could probably hurry up and miss him.

Even if the loop never ends, it’s still good to see that it’s bringing him back like it’s supposed to.

How incredibly selfish, you think as you continue looking at Bucky and letting a quiet, hesitant wash of calm come over you.

And then, all of a sudden, his eyes open.

You flinch backwards, but even though you’re almost face to face, he seems to stare right through you, his breaths heavy.

"Did I do something?" you say quietly.

"No," Strange answers. "This is just when he wakes up."

You watch as Bucky drags a hand over his face and then gets up with a determined tick in his jaw, grabbing a notebook from the nightstand. He scribbles something down, hastily, like it’s threatening to get away from him if he doesn’t hurry. You don’t have to read it to know it has something to do with what he’s seen in his sleep.

When the words stop flowing, he sits on the edge of the bed for a minute longer, but the tension doesn’t leave his shoulders. Finally, he rolls his left arm a few times before pulling on a shirt and his running shoes.

He always goes for a run in the morning. You’ve made fun of him for it before, but you hadn’t put together that while Strange was trying to get you to clear your own head through sitting still, Bucky might be doing the exact opposite to get the same result.

The door clicks shut.

"Are we done with the spying, then?" Strange says.

"No need to get weird about it," you mumble and take his outstretched hand.

***

Something changes once you know that your situation actually has an end date, even though Strange either cannot or will not tell you how many more loops you’re going to have to go through until then. Even so, there’s a new assurance to your every step again, a determination grown from the knowledge that all this isn’t for nothing. That there is an out.

You can cling to that.

"What would you do if you were stuck in a time loop?" you ask, letting your legs dangle over the ledge of the roof.

"Ew, no," Lucy replies, shaking the few remaining ice cubes in her cup emphatically. "My shift was long enough as is, and I’ve been looking forward to my Sunday off all week."

"Fair point," you concede.

It’s early afternoon then, and you’ve found a quiet spot on the top of the Tower. If Lucy was at all confused why you’d shown up at the store right when she clocked out and asked her to hang out, she’s not showing it. Over the past couple of loops, you’ve learned that she really likes to go with the flow, and you appreciate that.

"If it’s not today, though," she continues, like she’s thinking aloud. "Imagine the books you could read. You could try out all that stuff that you say you want to do, and then you never have the time to actually do them."

It’s a good thought, but a lack of time has never really been an issue for you. "Nothing you do would really stick, though."

She squints against the sun. "You realize that’s a pro, right? No consequences whatsoever. I could cut my bangs again and they’d be gone the next day."

"You used to have bangs?"

"Never, and I’m willing to state that in a court of law."

You smile and lean back on your elbows. "If something good happened, that’d be gone, too, though. You don’t get to keep that, either."

"Yeah," Lucy says thoughtfully. "I’d still remember it though, right? It still happened. I could make it happen again."

"Maybe." Your thumb scratches the empty space on your pinkie. Even though you’ve turned your entire bathroom upside down, your ring is still gone, like it just up and disappeared from this reality. You can’t help but wonder if that rift in the sky from a few todays ago has anything to do with that.

"What about you?"

"Hm?"

Lucy takes another slurping sip from her almost empty cup. "What would you do in a time loop?"

You can’t help but laugh. "I’d try to keep making the good things happen, I guess."

"Sounds like a lot of work."

It is.

"Are you out of your damn mind?" someone shouts behind you. "It’s in the fricking nineties today and you’re baking?"

"Technically, we are baking," you say, nodding at Lucy and leaning back further so you can look at Sam upside down. "And we’re baking for you."

"Hi, cap," Lucy says, pulling her sunglasses off.

"Hey." Sam crosses his arms and fixes you with a very cap-like glare. "Why are you baking for me."

"Y/N said it’s for your birthday."

"My—" He cuts himself off, rubbing his temples. "My birthday’s in September."

"Whoops," you say, your grin just believable enough. "My bad, cap."

"You’re not funny," Sam says, "I hope you know that."

You know.

Of course, today isn’t actually his birthday, not even if time were allowed to pass normally. It is day forty-fucking-nine of the loop, though, which makes it your fiftieth time living through this crap and frankly, you all deserve some damn pie.

It’s not going to make a difference in the long run, of course, and yet you can’t help but feel like keeping count of those little markers of time helps to hold your head above water. Making the good things happen, even if they don’t change a thing and no one but you is going to remember.

So you simply say, "It’s turtle pie," because you know that it’s Sam’s favorite. "Hey, what’s the time?"

"Oh, it better be," he says, holding his phone up for you to read and then marching out of your field of vision.

Sadly, you’re just about a minute early.

"He could’ve stayed," Lucy says when you let out a frustrated huff.

"He has that thing at the Garden," you tell her distractedly, taking a mental note to stall Sam a little longer next time.

"There you are."

You flinch at the sound of Bucky’s voice, barely daring to move your head when he sits next to you, his back to the brink.

He never comes up here. That’s the whole point.

"Hi?" you say carefully, and a grin tugs at his mouth.

"Not you," he says, nodding to the ground in front of him.

You turn around fully to find Alpine taking a nap just a few feet behind you, her snowy tail wrapped around a flower pot.

You let out a relieved breath and ignore the small sting in your chest. Of course he’s not up here because of you. Why would he be?

"Gee, thanks," you murmur, quietly shifting around so your hands are hidden underneath your legs. "You sure know how to charm the ladies."

You glance back at Lucy, but she’s looking at her phone, her eyes once again indecipherable behind the large sunglasses.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Think you could handle my charm, Y/L/N?"

He might has well have doused you in a bucket of ice water. You’re suddenly very aware of every single cell in your body, and you don’t like the challenge sparkling in his eyes.

So you do what you always do and you block it out. Dismiss and distract.

"Does Alpine seem weird to you?"

He tilts his head, his jaw tight. "Weird how?"

"I don’t know," you say, staring at her. "She’s just been acting … odd, lately. Today, I mean."

And following you around in a way you’re pretty sure she’s never done before. Not before the loop, at least.

Bucky sighs. "Did you make her scratch you again? Because I’ve told you before that I’m not getting rid of her for enforcing her boundaries."

"First of all, I never make her scratch me, she does that well enough on her own."

"That’s victim blaming," Lucy says without looking up. Bucky snorts and you almost roll your eyes.

"Second of all, she’s up to something. I know it."

"Oh, yes," Bucky says dryly just as Alpine makes a small noise in her dreams, her nose twitching. "That’s the embodiment of evil right there."

"I don’t trust her," you mutter.

"And yet the cat’s the weird one."

"I hate you," you mumble, standing up. "I’m gonna go check on the pie."

"There’s pie?" Bucky says.

"Not for you!"

You turn at the door to see Lucy leaning in to show Bucky something on her phone; the frown has disappeared from his face, his shoulders relaxed. If he’d pull off his glove right now, it’d almost be like sitting in a park.

That’s good, you tell yourself as the door slams shut behind you with a bit too much gusto. Reminds you that there’s nothing special about you in particular, which is much needed, really.

Can’t wait to punch that one out of your system later.

Again and again and again and a—

"Whoa, whoa, you alright?"

You blink. Riff slumps to the ground in front of you, body limp.

Bucky stares at you in concern, his hand still on your shoulder. His lip has split open and there’s the usual bruise already forming on his cheekbone. You can’t help it. Your gaze is drawn down, your breathing shallow.

You screw your eyes shut to snap yourself out of it, but when you open them again, Bucky hasn’t moved an inch.

"Never better," you whisper, and for a split second, you almost believe it yourself.

Liar, liar, liar.

***

At least, you suppose, reality seems considerably less broken these days. No more cracks in the sky.

You get your wake-up call when you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY …

"… FRIDAY?" you say into the silence of your room, your heart pounding wildly. This cannot be happening. Not now.

Not yet.

He got shot again yesterday.

A pleasant jingling sound rings out. "Good morning, Ms. Y/L/N."

You look at the clock on the wall. Ten to eight, just like every morning. "What day is it?"

"Today is Friday, July 4th."

You can taste bile in your mouth despite your relief. There’s an impatient thrum to the symbols around your wrist, like a noose that’s tightening.

What did you expect?

"Rise and shine, McFly! Time to get your ass kicked!"

"Didn’t you set FRIDAY to wake me?" you ask Sam as you’re climbing the stairs, nerves on edge.

He looks at you weirdly. "I did. You’re up, aren’t you?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Didn’t sleep well."

That much, at least, is still true. Full nights of sleep are a long distant memory from before constant back-to-back repetitions. The only time your body shuts off is when you manage to sleep for a little bit in between your astral visits and the mission call.

"I hope you don’t think that’s an excuse," Sam says, bumping your shoulder, and you manage a tired grin.

"You wish."

Today, you let him win, even though your ankle makes an odd crack when you land on the mat. You’ll take care of it later.

"You look like shit."

Grief and relief, you’ve learned, both taste like salt and iron, but the latter is so much easier to swallow.

"That makes two of us," you say, sitting up slowly. "How was your run?"

"Good," Bucky says, putting the cloth away and stretching his fingers out. They catch a ray of sunlight. "What’s wrong with you?"

Not this again.

"Later, okay?" you answer, because that’s not a lie. "Let’s just … not, right now?"

"Alright," he says.

And, oh, you want to tell him again. Because he doesn’t press it. Because you miss having someone to share things with. Because you miss telling him the whole truth. Because you’re scared, and tired, and sick of losing him.

But those are egotistic thoughts, and so you keep them all to yourself and take the towel on the right.

There’s one good thing about this today. You make it to the living room just in time to finally catch a glimpse of Sam’s phone right when it pings with Torres’ message.

I can check it out on Monday if you’d like.

That’s it. No urgency, weirdly proper spelling, not even an exclamation mark.

In other words, you’re not sure what you expected but you’re no closer to answers than before.

"What does it matter?" Strange sighs when you tell him all of this with a frown.

"It matters," you reply, "because if we hadn’t gone on the mission, Bucky wouldn’t have died that first time and none of this would’ve happened."

"So what?" he says. "It’s already done."

"But if I could prevent it—"

"It already happened."

"I can make it not happen."

"You and what powers?" Strange says sharply. "Even if you did that, it wouldn’t stop the loop."

"How do you know that?"

"Because you’ve already seen first-hand that it’s bound to you and your powers, not to whatever you do or don’t do during the day. Karma is a fairy tale for those who don’t want to take responsibility for their actions."

"Do you really still think this is me not taking responsibility?" There’s a green flare that goes through you, hot and seething and making goosebumps crawl down your arms.

Strange smiles at the sight. "Let’s find out."

He extends his arms and slowly opens his fists until orange symbols dance across his shaky fingers. The band around your wrist prickles at the weight of his magic flooding the air.

Strange’s cloak nudges you towards the center of the room and your heart gives a heavy thud. "What, right now?"

"Would you prefer being stuck for a couple weeks more?"

"Of course not it’s just—I don’t feel ready."

"No one ever feels ready until they try."

And maybe it’s because it reminds you of something Steve once said, but it makes you step up, falling into the stance you’ve practiced over and over again. You breathe in deeply and close your eyes.

The pull comes easier now. Your powers have just been resting, nestled somewhere deep inside your bones like glowing embers, waiting for you to call upon them.

When you look at your open palm, the green wisps of your powers have curled up to the size of a ping-pong ball. You take another steadying breath and let it glide to the tips of your fingers, carefully letting it balance itself out for a second before moving your other hand.

"Good," you can hear Strange say quietly.

Slowly, carefully, you let the threads untangle until they’re just about to touch the green band circling around your wrist. You can feel the electric tingle of it, the soft beat of each passing second contained within, and you push past it.

You’ve done this before, so you’re not surprised when you feel the energy drain from your body almost immediately. Up until now, though, it’s just been trial and error, not expecting anything to happen. This time, you have Strange’s magic feeding some of his strength into you as well, and so instead of hesitating, you press on, your heartbeat speeding up.

The band around your wrist does the same.

"Don’t lose your focus." Strange’s voice sounds very far away, almost warped.

Very funny, you might have said, but you’re too busy watching it all unfold.

The whirring inside of your head grows louder as the circlet of time keeps rotating with accelerating speed, faster and faster until your eyes start tearing up and there’s something that looks almost like a crack.

You gasp quietly. At first, you think you might have just imagined it, but then the split starts growing, the symbols growing farther and farther apart as the band itself keeps spinning. Your pulse is beating in your ears. Your wrist feels like it’s being set on fire.

There are voices, then, quiet and fast, like you’re watching a sped up movie, music and noises and chatter and birdsong and a whooshing sound like something flipping right past you. Then, something like distant shots.

I’m getting Bucky out of this, you think as the green band continues rotating until suddenly, there is a shockwave of green light that takes up your entire field of vision.

You close your stinging eyes, keeping your feet firmly planted on the floor as your powers rush through you once more and then, with a shudder, settle down again, exhausted. The glare subsides. Something like a trickle of sweat runs down your noncorporeal neck.

"Did it work?" you ask, your voice rough, not daring to look for yourself. There’s no answer, though. "Doc?"

Slowly, your eyes readjust to the gloomy darkness of your room in the astral realm. The only source of light is the glowing green band continuing to circle around your wrist, the rifts stabilizing again like it’s clicking back into place.

You swear under your breath and turn around to ask what went wrong, but Strange is no longer standing beside you.

You’re all alone.

***

Three, two, one—

"Iced grande extra whip caramel macchia—shit!"

You catch the plastic cup before it drops onto the suit of the business man standing in line in front of you. "Here you go, sir."

He grabs his drink with a grunt and hurries back outside. One of these days, you might ask him why he’s in such a hurry, but it’s not today.

You’ve grown to adore the noise of the pre-noon rush. The cacophany of the whirring machines, the AC and the people is just loud enough to make your head calm down a little. Besides, being alone in a crowd has never been easier than when you know for a fact they are not going to remember you.

The drinks are starting to pile up at the hand-out, and because you feel bad for your colleagues, you start handing them out to people. You’ve been here a lot, after all.

"Tall hazelnut latte for Misty!"

Plus, it helps to keep your mind from wandering back to everything that’s going wrong.

Strange still hasn’t returned.

The astral dimension feels different when you return the day after your experiment, like someone’s been pulling invisible strings to make everything just slightly more disordered and dark.

It’s cold, too. You watch your body shiver in her sleep as you wrap your arms around yourself. The books are still there, shimmering slightly with the magic they contain.

"Doc?" you call out, and the vibrations of this place hum it back at you. There’s no answer.

The book at the top of the pile is still opened to a page, as if it’d just been left a moment ago, and you pick it up. The words glide around like they are looking to jump back into an inkpot, and you have to squint to make out any of them.

Incursion, the section header reads. Result of a contraction in a universe’s timeline. Can cause premature disintegration or collapse of any one reality within the multiverse.

"Just great," you say, slapping the book shut again. "I get it, alright? You can come out now."

But there’s no sound apart from your own heartbeat.

Your noncorporeal head is swimming with pressure as you pass through the closed door and into the hallway. The walls seem larger than usual, the stairs warping ever so slightly underneath your feet so that you can’t look at them for too long without feeling seasick.

Upstairs, the air doesn’t feel quite as heavy. The silence follows you, though, lingering in the grayish morning shadows like the remnants of a nightmare.

Bucky still mumbles in his.

You can’t make out what he is saying, and you wouldn’t have understood the words, anyway, but there’s sweat on his brow again. His fingers are tightly clutching the thin throw blanket like it’s shielding him from whatever he’s seeing in his dreams.

You take a step closer to him, desperate to do something, anything, when you notice movement out of the corner of your eye.

Alpine is perched on top of the bed, complacently tucked into herself on one of the fluffed up white pillows like it’s really her room, not Bucky’s.

And she’s staring right at you.

You take a step to the side, then another. Alpine tilts her head, her large eyes fixed on you. They follow your gestures as you wave your hand.

A quick glance tells you that Bucky is still sleeping. You take a deep breath and conjure up a small dot of bright green light, letting it dance across your fingertips. Alpine uncurls herself in interest, her tail twitching.

"You can see me," you whisper, and the little spec of your power disappears.

The cat meows in disappointment.

Carefully, you move closer to the bed, reaching out your translucent hand until you place it on Alpine’s head.

She rubs against your palm.

You chuckle incredulously, scratching behind her ears. "You little devil."

Alpine seems particularly pleased with herself. She starts purring.

This is simply bizarre, you think as you continue petting her soft fur. You’re expecting a sarcastic comment from behind your shoulder any minute now, but it doesn’t come.

So, you lower yourself down on the floor next to Bucky, the tips of your fingers not quite grazing his arm as you swallow heavily.

And then you wait until he gets up.

It’s possible, you think as you watch him leave and then make yourself wake up too, that Strange is simply messing with you for the hell of it. You don’t like the timing of this, though. Your day still continues on and on and on, like it always does, but it seems just a little too pointed that this would happen right after you had your first hopes of getting out of here in a long time.

It doesn’t help that the reality glitches have decided to return with a vengeance.

Every day is still July 4th. You wake up with a start, you train, you get coffee, you fight over lunch, you take your astral visit, you go on that damn mission. It’s the details that start to get … fuzzy.

In the beginning, every single thing around you was the exact same every single day. Now, though, there are sometimes details that are just wrong. A different mug left on the drying rack. A mess all over the tables in the lab. Weird noises all over the Tower.

You don’t know what to make of any of it, and so in general, you follow Strange’s rule of thumb and simply ignore the things that are wrong one day and then right the next—which, thankfully, is all of them. You just go with it, telling yourself that this is simply reality malfunctioning a little, like a machine that needs oiling.

Weirdly enough, that doesn’t reassure you in the slightest.

But what else can you do?

You lose a few hours here and there, time seemingly speeding up at random sometimes now. One morning, Bucky isn’t in the gym like he usually is, and you work yourself up over it so much you nearly have a panic attack. In the end, you almost crash into him outside of his room, and a rush of reassurance floods through you with such force you can’t even look at him.

That time, Sam is there when Bucky gets shot, and it’s his cry that follows you into the next day. Your hands are clean this time, and somehow that feels worse.

Everyone’s back to their usual stuff again, and that’s that.

Another time, you’ve barely rolled out of bed and into your bathroom—"Rise and shine, McFly!"—when you’re suddenly jolted forwards and you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume. Your stomach feels like it’s still turning, nauseous, as if you’d sat up too fast.

That feeling still leaves a bad taste in your mouth, sticking to the back of your mind like the blood you haven’t even had time to wash off.

The thing that demands most of your attention, though, is the pile of books waiting for you in the astral realm. Since you don’t have any control over the loop itself, you pour all of your energy into trying to understand the theory behind your powers. It’s giving you a constant headache, and it takes a lot longer than you would like to admit, but at least you feel like you’re doing something that’ll last.

Nothing else will.

There’s one last lonely cup sat on the counter next to your own, which signals that the rush is over for now. You can see Lucy wiping her forehead as you wave your goodbye, picking up both drinks on your way out and handing one of them to the guy just hurrying back downstairs.

"Here you go," you say without stopping, glancing at your phone. You haven’t stayed this late before.

"What the—" you hear behind you, just before the doors glide open and you’re greeted by the sound of traffic and a hot breeze of air.

If you’re lucky, you can make it back to your room without anyone seeing you. You’ve moved on to a particularly hefty tome about relativity, and you’d like to—

"Hey! Miss? Hold on a second!"

You look over your shoulder to see the delivery guy has run after you, cup still in his hand. His bike is leaned against a lamp post nearby, his cap dangling off one of the handles.

You found out a couple of weeks ago that he takes his break just after dropping off your order, but you don’t usually make eye contact anymore.

Now, he holds out his cup accusingly. "That’s my drink."

You smile. "Good for you."

"No. No, that’s not—I mean—how did you know it was my drink?"

And because nothing really matters and you really want to go home, you say, "It has your name on it, doesn’t it?"

You expect him to look at you with wide eyes, just like people normally do when you know things you’re not supposed to. His mouth will drop open, speechless, his frown will deepen, and you can wink at him and continue on your way so he can spend the next couple of hours wondering what just happened.

The cup falls out of his hand, but somehow he manages to catch it before it hits the sidewalk. When he looks up at you again, and his expression is unlike anything you’ve seen coming.

"But that’s not …" he says quietly. "Do you remember me?"

And then it’s you who’s speechless, because the shock on Peter Parker’s face is more than you bargained for.

*****

"Honestly, I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this," you said quietly, looking over the rim of your glass at the crowd.

"You complaining?" you heard Sam’s voice say over the little earpiece you were wearing.

"Not at all."

Apparently, people connected to terrorist organizations threw incredibly fancy parties.

You hadn’t felt this glamorous in a while, if ever, dressed up to the nines in a dark green jumpsuit with an incredibly flattering cut that you’d never had a reason to wear before. Despite your initial doubts about this whole thing, you felt great, for the first time in way too long.

"Are you gonna move any time soon?"

Well. Mostly.

At least Barnes cleaned up nice, you supposed; it almost made up for his grouchy demeanor.

With a sigh, you downed the rest of your drink and got back to work. You let the crowd swallow you up, seemingly on your way to the restrooms, and then you stopped it all to slip upstairs unnoticed by prying eyes and cameras.

You didn’t hold it for very long; you had to rattle some doors, after all, and despite your espresso martini, it was still hard to tell if you could manage several redos back to back. After all, you’d only been back in the game for a couple of weeks.

It took you a few tries to find the right office, and locating the files was comparatively easy with what you already had access to. There it was, proof that ULTIMATUM had managed to secure most of the Flag Smashers’ previous supporters as well as some high brow weapon dealers.

While you copied everything onto a flashdrive, your eyes caught one of the designs. You frowned.

Even though you couldn’t pinpoint what it was, exactly, something about it seemed just slightly too highbrow for an organization of the international bad egg committee that was supposedly still mostly underground. Your gaze started drifting through the rest of the office, noting the usual boring books and glass awards in the bookshelves on the far wall. You pulled open one of the desk drawers.

"You almost done in here?"

"Fuck!" You slammed the drawer shut again, getting your pinkie stuck in the process. "Damnit, where did you come from?"

Bucky pointed over his shoulder.

"Fuck me," you murmured, your eyes stinging at the pain.

Bucky looked nonplussed. "Can’t you just undo it?"

"Great input, thank you." The flashdrive beeped softly and you shut everything down again. At least you were definitely sober now. "What are you, anyway, my babysitter?"

"Wouldn’t have to be if you could check in on time," he answered, checking the corridors, then nodding for you to follow.

"Time’s a social construct," you murmured, but followed him, the flashdrive hidden in your fist.

You didn’t even make it to the staircase.

"Didn’t I tell you?" a voice said right before several triggers clicked and you both froze. "I knew I’d recognized that arm. And who do you have with you here, Winter Soldier?"

No one, you thought, and then you yanked time backwards so forcefully you stumbled into the desk, your heart still racing. The copy sat at 57%.

You felt almost seasick with the rewind, but there wasn’t any time. "Keep going upstairs," you said into your earpiece.

"What?" Bucky said.

"I’m fine. Don’t come get me. Just keep going," you gritted through your teeth, trying to calm your breaths. 70%.

"Exit plan C, then," Sam said.

Bucky didn’t answer. You looked at your hands. There was a slight tremor to them, but nothing too bad. If you could get the nausea under control, you could probably make it past the cameras one more time.

You should’ve eaten more.

As soon as the flashdrive was done, you ripped it out and forced everything to a halt again. Your palms were sweaty as you hurried out of the office and in the direction of the staircase, your lungs burning. This didn’t feel like a good sign.

You stumbled over your damn heels and the noise returned for that moment you lost your concentration.

Not good enough.

Sweat pearled on your forehead as you and the universe held your breath again. You could feel your hold slipping with every second that wasn’t allowed to pass. Time was impatient with you.

A small crowd had assembled at the bottom of the stairs. As you closed in on them, you felt a jolt go through you and suddenly found yourself surrounded by people as time attempted to right itself again. Your nails dug into the skin of your palm so hard you could feel yourself draw blood.

It went quiet again and you moved through them, almost blindly. Everything seemed to be spinning.

Behind your shoulder, you could hear several people talking, interrupted only by the world stopping around them every now and then.

"—d’you—see that—"

"—could’ve—sworn there—”

And with time stumbling and flailing around in confusion, you made it out of the building and into the waiting cab.

chapter seven

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[lostacelonnie]

Definitely understandable i easily lose the energy to talk with people when i have to interact with family. So you're good. Ah yes the dont worry about it approach my favorite. Especially when what you do in regards to you is your business. Well between last message & now i forgot so thats a good indicator of how thats goin. Beaches over here are hit & miss but the closer ones to me arent as popular thankfully. Hm. What is a2 knowledge & how is it getting worse? I adore colder climates heat is not kind to me at all. Tents are. Well. Some are decently priced depending on how big of one you get. Oh i definitely recommend going with friends its a lot of fun. Ive been slacking a bit on the game but so far clara is workin for me. Probably wont have enough for kafka. Oooh good luck to you with all your pulls. Story spoilers aren't a major thing for me because the how is always still fun. Definitely understand some just dont want em at all. Every time i try minecraft im like. Never sure what i want to do. So kudos to you for stickin with the game & having fun. Smaller cities are nice love having close stuff without being in like. A big city. Ah dang i hope you find that dye again in the future. Makeup is hard it should be easier for those who wanna wear it. Ive been so busy i missed. So many events whoops. Problem of bein stuck level gaining to continue story. Motivation is hard to come by. I busy myself reading or looking up new science discoveries when i dont wanna leave my room.

thankies ahdhfjfj!!! and, once again, apologies for the late reply. my grandma fortunately left a while ago but i was feeling Cranky and didnt wanna sound Annoyed With Existing ahdjfh. still kinda dying inside since i return to school in 2 weeks but fuck it we ball we stay silly etc. COMING BACK. yeah like "nobodys gonna know-" "theyre gonna know." "how would they know". and understandable sjdkfgjk consider this your reminder then. and ahh fair i live pretty far away from the sea so i dont really know good Spots i guess. BUT i do like lake beaches since theyre way more quiet most of the time. and basically im not exactly sure in how many countries it applies, im thinking most of europe? but essentially language knowledge here is divided by levels, a1 -> a2 -> b1 -> b2 -> c1 -> c2 with c2 being the highest. and well i guess theres also a0 but thats just when you start. a2 is just speaking Basic English, so like enough to survive if you go to an english speaking country but not much more. for reference, by tests ive done, my level is like between b2 and c1 so very decent but i dont know most of the "fancier" and more specific words. and with it "getting worse" i mean that [at least from what our teacher told us] the textbooks are getting easier and easier so people are leaving school not actually knowing almost anything. yeah SAME its been so hot here recently so ive been Suffering. and yeah i know but me and my mother dont really know if its a good idea to buy one since we dont really go camping anyway. but maybe when im an adult im gonna get more into it, esp if i have ppl to do it with. and ah thats nice to hear!!! i DID manage to get kafka and her lightcone so ive been having fun with her recently. actually overpowered. tho i heard shes quite f2p friendly. and oh understandable!! i unfortunately used to be on tiktok where they spoil EVERYTHING and its impossible to avoid so ever since then ive been extra careful. tho i kinda feel that way ab fontaine rn [cos i ended up actually being kinda interested] since i cant download it rn but still am excited 4 the story despite knowing little unconnected bits. and fair, minecraft def isnt for everyone but its very good for chilling out at least to me. rn im procrastinating on beating the ender dragon so im just maxxing out my gear rn. and yeah but im still gonna see whether or not i wanna live a long way from my family. oh well i still have time. also thanks!!! i have not been successful yet but i bought another dye so im gonna keep you updated on that. and ahhhh understandable, ive been Grinding so i didnt have that problem sjfkg i should build my sampo but. ah. i hate grinding artifacts. pretty excited for the 1.3 simulated universe update tho!!! esp since im really curious about the aeons so seeing more of the propagation is sth im looking forward to. but good luck!!! and VERY real i like doing wikipedia deep dives esp about marine animals. im a fishpilled oceancel but i unfortunately suffer from Not Remembering Anything Ive Read Ever.