#I've got the time loop fic in the works as well as a one where lando is a fae/woodland spirit/forest bitch and a superpowers one

[finifugue]

One day I will not write stupidly complicated AUs for racecar drivers. Meanwhile, have a snippet of an AU where the Gang r scientists who discover that the centre of the earth is actually a black hole and it's actually a big fat metaphor for divorce.

“Disaster parameters?” Oscar asks, a little weak. George sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Thirteen percent chance that half the ship’s particles will tunnel, leaving the other half irreparably entangled with the atoms of the earth itself, which ‒ well, it won’t be painful, not for very long, anyway. There’s a six percent chance the entangled particles will tunnel with themselves, at which point we’re not… quite sure what will happen, but we think it’ll be a quick death as well. Then there’s a point-two percent chance that the accelerator will entangle every particle inside the ship, instead of the layer on the outside…” Charles finishes the sentence for him. “Which will turn all of us into walking, speaking atomic bombs. Possibly immortal. We only were able to test it theoretically.” He waves a hand. Oscar tries to explode his head with his mind.

[theghostofashton]

.

[rayslittlekitten]

Longest Nights

A/N: Okay, this isn't perfect but I think it mostly captures what I was going for. I'm done working on this. I've listened to "Last Christmas" by Ariana Grande on loop for literally the last like 8 hours trying to finish this. It's weirdly the song that inspired this (YT link below). This isn't the first Kai fic I thought I'd finish but here we are. Kai had already broke my heart so this fic is just me jamming the knife even deeper and twisting it. This fic is spoiler free.

Rating: T/M

Word Count: ~1.3k

Pairing: Kai x Pilot! F! Reader

Plot: When you run into your crush who you have a working relationship with on the loneliest night of the year, you find comfort in him.

Contains: mentions of sex, heartache, Kai is a warning in itself

It’s that time of year again, the shortest day and longest night, where all the travelers go home to be with their families and loved ones to celebrate the Winter Solstice. You don’t know the origin of the holiday but it’s celebrated universally. Traditions may vary from culture to culture but usually children get presents for being well-behaved all year and families gather around to sing and dance. 

But where do the ones with no family go? The same place where you are right now, seated on the stool at the bar in this saloon. The orphans, the loners, the outcasts. This is their home and it has been yours as well for the last few years. It can get lonely this time of year making the longest night seem even longer, but at least you’re not doing it alone.

While working on your third pint, a familiar voice behind you draws your attention. You slowly turn around to take a glance and as expected, you see him. He has his arm around a woman’s shoulder and they look cozy as they walk across the saloon. Probably a mark, but with Kai, you never know until it’s too late.

Your eyes follow them as they seat themselves at the other end of the bar. He leans in and whispers something into her ear and she giggles with her hand over her chest. She is definitely getting something stolen tonight, whether it’s the big shiny ring on her hand or her heart. You would know first hand.

When you finished off your ale, you sensed a presence next to you. Before you could order another pint, they ordered it for you as well as one for themselves, sliding a few coins to the bartender.

“Oh, hey Kai. You don’t need to-” you started, but he cut you off.

“Don’t worry about it. I got a bigger payout from my last job than I expected,” he waved his ringed hand to dismiss you. “Besides, I owe you one.”

Kai brought his freshly-poured pint up to clink with yours before taking a large gulp.

Last time, he tried to swindle a swindler and he almost had it but when they caught on, Kai would have lost his head if you hadn’t happened to be there to back him up. He’s always getting himself into all sorts of trouble for a shilling, but he’s usually smart about it. Once in a while, he just liked to do it for the challenge.

“It’s nothing,” you shrugged after taking a sip of your own ale. “I’m sure you would have done the same for me.”

You noticed the mischievous smirk forming on his face, flashing his shiny teeth. The precious metals in his mouth brightens his smile. Your gaze moved up and you’re suddenly lost in his bright blue eyes. It wouldn’t be your first time.

“So what are you doing here by yourself on a night like this? Shouldn’t you be with that bounty hunting fellow you’ve been planet-hopping with?” Kai asked curiously.

“You mean Jaxson? We’re not together anymore,” you told him, then took another sip of your drink, looking away from him in embarrassment.

“Well, that’s too bad for him. You’re a great person to have around,” he commented.

“Thanks, Kai. Guess he didn’t think so,” you threw him a tight-lipped smile. “He found somebody more suited for him at the brothel.”

“Eh, screw Jaxson! I never trust bounty hunters,” he replied. “Especially ones who can’t even see the value of someone.”

His crystal clear eyes met yours again and he winked. You felt your cheeks quickly heating up and it’s not from the ale. Kai was very charming and charismatic which is why he’s great at what he does and you’re not immune from it even knowing this. His accent certainly adds to it.

“Enough about that scoundrel. How’s business going, by the way?” he asked, changing the subject.

Kai would sometimes outsource jobs to you when he wasn’t able to do them himself and would take a small percentage of the payout as a finder’s fee. You never knew what you were transporting but you always took the job. It wasn’t just for the money; any opportunity to spend time with Kai was enough of a reason.

“Not many people have needed things transported lately, believe it or not. Might have to find other ways to earn if this keeps up. Fuel is not cheap.”

Kai leaned into you, his shoulder pressed right up against yours and his face mere inches away from yours.

“You know, I heard on Veldt, the farmers have this belief that making a lot of loud and passionate love appeases their god and will make their soil fertile so they will have an abundance of crops,” he started. 

“Interesting,” you commented, wondering where he’s going with this.

“Maybe it might work in the same way. Abundance of transportation needs,” he shrugged.

You let out a chortle, nearly choking on your ale. 

“Kai, that has to be the silliest thing I’ve ever heard,” you replied while wiping the corners of your mouth.

“It might be, but it made you laugh,” he said. “Has anyone ever told you how cute your laugh is?”

Your face got hot again as the corners of your lips curled up and you tried to hide your face in your shoulder. That handsome smile made an appearance again and there’s a twinkle in his eyes. He scanned your face before settling on your lips and leaning in even closer.

“Interested in appeasing the gods tonight?”

You let out a small laugh but stared at him for a few moments when his facial expression didn’t change. When his hooded eyes found yours again, your breath hitched.

***

The next morning, you found yourself alone in the bed of the room you both rented out for the night at a nearby inn. You scanned the room and there was no sign of Kai. It was as if he never stepped foot in here. The soreness between your legs is the only proof you had, that you hadn’t dreamt it. 

You had lost count of how many times he made you climax, but that wasn’t even the best part of it. It was the most intimate and passionate love making you had ever experienced. He said and did things that made you feel like the only person that existed in this universe. He took his time with you, worshiped you, and left no part of your body untouched. He made your body react in ways you didn’t ever think was possible. You opened up to him and shared parts of yourself that you hadn’t shared with anyone else, as it seemed like he did with you. 

Admittedly, you were in a vulnerable place, but it didn’t take away from what had manifested last night. You then suddenly checked all your belongings to make sure they were all there. After thoroughly searching, you found something that didn’t belong to you: one of Kai’s rings. You sighed in relief to confirm Kai didn’t steal anything from you, but it still felt like something was missing.

A few days later, you ran into him, although you didn’t know if it was by chance or it was by his design because he was in need of your services again. You returned his ring which he thanked you for, but things went on like nothing had ever happened between you. You had thought there was a connection. He had never brought up that night to you so you didn’t either, especially seeing him with another woman that day. You didn’t want to make things awkward.

You quickly finish your drink and tip the bartender as you gather your belongings. From your peripheral vision, you see the woman throw a drink onto Kai’s face before stomping out the swinging doors. You can’t help but smirk, but you hide it from him. You glance over at him for a quick moment as he wipes his face before finally heading out yourself. The last thing you need is for him to drown you in his eyes again. 

[reineydraws]

Hey Reiney! i've been following your Renkaza comic for some time now and it's kind of gotten me into the ship. Would you happen to have any fic recs to get me started?

im so honoured my comic got u into the ship! (@sshcomic for those who don't know! 🫶) i love giving out fic recs omg thank u so much for asking!!!! i have 15 for ya haha.

i'll have specific recs under the cut, but first i wanna just say that anything by emilieee @e-milieeee ; dragonsandcryptids @lesbiansanemi ; and tippertupper are great places to start! they're amazing writers with a good body of work and i've definitely gone through a lot--if not all--of their renkaza stuff! please check them out!

word count is rounded to nearest thousand btw! :) smoke and mirrors + demon's choice are big inspirations for my comic, if ur coming from there!

i've also realized these can be pretty lengthy so if u want recs with shorter word counts just lmk and i'll comb through my bookmarks for <15k. but anyways!

Smoke and Mirrors by emilieee (272k)

canon happens in modern times au, where akaza ends up as kyo's apartment neighbour, tho kyo doesn't initially realize akaza's a demon. it's emotional! it's plotty! akaza mentions kokushibo made all the kizuki's fake id's and i still think that's hilarious! it's got one of my fave enemies to besties akaza & shinobu plots ever! please read this!!!

last sunrise by DragonsAndCryptids (182k)

akaza turns kyojuro by accident bc he bleeds too much into kyo's open wounds during the mugen train fight, and neither notice until it's too late. shinobu notices too and decides perhaps that this might be a prime research opportunity... uh-oh! the ethical quandries are good in this, and shinobu while flawed is very well-written. renkaza also end up with a soul bond. another emotional one but god is the journey amazing. tw for some torture scenes that could be graphic.

Small Fire of Winter Stars by phabulousphantom (66k)

modern au where akaza is a tattoo artist and kyo runs a teens program at the local community centre. it's one of my faves bc i just love stories about jaded people opening up and finding love and trust again, and this is exactly that. i also love the ensemble cast in it. the teenagers are adorable, especially inosuke who is a problem kid that finds something aspirational with akaza. thinking abt this fic is making me smile again!

Camp Kasugai by si1verbird77 (20k)

also modern au where renkaza are both counselors at a summer camp. kyo runs a percy jackson program, and he and akaza fall in love over the summer with the help of the deep trust that camp atmospheres usually end up fostering. kyo and sen, and akaza as well, also touch on the grief of losing parents, and the nature of camps as a place to grow into yourself and how time keeps moving. it's nice. i love this one a lot.

Inertia (series) by TipperTupper (23k)

akaza saves kyo from freezing to death, and kyo marvels at the compassion and humanity that akaza seems to hold in his muscle memory. ends up digging a little bit into akaza's trauma both as a human and as a demon controlled by muzan. sanemi gets a little mad about it in the third part and it's funny. overall vibe of the series is warm.

The Neverending Night by apodis (155k - incomplete)

when i say this fic rotates in my brain 24/7!!! akaza gets stuck in a time loop that resets every time kyo dies. it explores akaza's nature as someone who is willing to sacrifice everything for loved ones, and it's interesting bc at first kyo hates him, and then he starts to realize there's something wrong with akaza's memories bc of muzan, and he starts to really see how self-effacing akaza is. it's SO good, and the realizations both kyo and you as the reader have build and layer as the story progresses. akaza and kaname (kyo's crow) also build a friendship that is so important to me.

Demon's Choice by Celeste Gladnick (lairMorbidon) (69k - incomplete)

akaza defects early and joins tamayo, and so many more people are alive as a result. kyo in this one is interesting bc he's bigoted against demons thanks to his upbringing in a slayer family under abusive shinjuro, and refuses to see that akaza is anything other than dangerous, despite literally everyone else sticking up for him. extra fun bc he crushes on butterfly assistant hakuji without realizing that it's akaza in a human guise. akaza himself also has some deeply held trauma he doesnt quite realize he has.

what i wouldn't give by DragonsAndCryptids (59k)

senjuro becomes terminally ill and his end is fast-approaching. akaza, who's been bothering kyo on and off for two years since mugen train, hears about it and offers to help by turning sen into a demon. at first, kyo gives a hard no, but as his baby brother's illness progresses... well, anyone would get a little desperate, wouldn't they? love this bc one of my fave things abt renkaza is pushing kyo to his moral and ethical limit lol.

if you fly (say you won’t come back) by apodis (10k)

siren au! well, akaza's a siren, and kyo is the caretaker of a house that sees many different travelers. akaza's just the latest one. i love this one bc it's fantastical elements are wonderful, and it builds a very interesting world. as the reader, you have a lot of questions and it's an experience getting them answered. it's also prettily written. :)

Little Fighter Boy Comes Marching Home by VTheTrashKing (19k)

akaza gets de-aged by a demon's blood art, and kyo comes upon a little human boy with black hair and blue eyes, a chip on his shoulder and a very implicitly sad past, what with the criminal markings on his wrists and the way he insists he can take care of himself. another one of my fave renkaza things and kyo getting bowled over by hakuji's tragic story so i loved the way he puzzles it together in this one based on the little boy in front of him, and just finds one sad thing after another.

“Don’t die, Kyojuro” by Lenasaurous (24k)

akaza lets kyo live and often tells him not to die. kyo, who's life is often visited by death considering his occupation, begins to rely on akaza's immortality as a demon, and depend on his company as a constant--that is, until akaza passes out from not eating, and stays down for the count. uh-oh. (i also love this fic 'cuz there's this scene where akaza tries so hard to make kyo like him by giving him herbs and helpful plants, even tho kyo doesn't really want him around at that point, and it's so sweet and so sad. i wanna give him a hug!!!)

Memories behind broken glass by GammaRays (58k - incomplete)

this is the akaza whump fic of my dreams lol he gets captured and experimented on by shinobu (and it can be grisly so tw for that). kyo lured him into a trap to get him captured and ends up standing guard and starting to question his morals when it becomes clear that shinobu is being intentionally cruel. as the torture experiments go on, akaza also becomes so delirious that he begins to remember his human past. kyo loses it a little. it's good.

All the things a cup can hold by Liatheus (9k)

akaza takes shinjuro demon hunting lol. this is actually more of a shinjuro character study with side renkaza, but i love it specifically for a scene near the end where they all have tea, and ruka's empty place at the table feels obvious, and kyo and shinjuro are sort of crying about it. i also love that it explores the way shinjuro used to be a hashira, and how akaza investigates his strength in that sense. shinjuro's strength is an important aspect to kyojuro that doesn't often get delved into, and it makes sense to me that akaza sort of looks into it, as someone who loves kyo's strength.

Hello Again (the weight of memories welcome me home) by VTheTrashKing (15k)

this one's more artsy than anything but i love sci-fi as a genre so i'm reccing it lol i'm being self-indulgent. for whatever reason, throughout his life, akaza gets visited by various hashira. it's all very timey-wimey and the renkaza is more implied than anything, but there's this scene where akaza's being held trial at a hashira meeting, and then a future sanemi and future giyuu come out of nowhere to protect him and shock the living daylights out of their past selves, and it's so wild. i love it so much.

the milk incident by lattelesbean (4k)

this is just funny haha! short and fun read. modern soyama twins au where akaza's a café barista and accidentally puts his foot in his mouth in a very embarrassing way, bc he was too busy thirsting over kyo, his latest customer, to double-check what was about to come out of his mouth lol. i am still laughing.

[jomeimei421]

you got any orv fic recs 🙏🏼

BOY I sure do. This list is going to be pretty long, so I'll put it below the cut.

Mei's ORV Fic Reccs

Spoilers for ORV until the epilogue!

Post-Epilogue by the1864

GEN, yoohankim if you squint. This one is one of my favorite ORV fics at the moment so it's going first in this list! It picks up right where 551 leaves off, and every single character is written absurdly well, especially the main trio! Great if you're looking for KDJ recovery stuff.

Rendezvous by WindsofTime

Joongdok. A reimagining of select scenes from ORV, if KDJ and YJH made more use of Midday Tryst, told from YJH's point of view. A tiny bit different from canon, but not enough to call it canon divergence. The babygirl YJH fic ever. Op GETS him.

The False Last Act by younglegends

GEN. If you read any fic on this list, please read this one. I can't say anything about it without spoiling parts of it, and I really don't want to do that. Extremely well executed. Lovely, comforting, and will make your stomach flip like you've stared too long into the abyss. Read this fic TWICE. Read it TWO (2) TIMES.

My Cooking was Always Better with You (Now if only you would eat it) by pave_ment

GEN, joongdok if you squint. For those who lament over the fact that we never got to see any scenes from YJH's 81st regression cooking adventure I present to you: Dungeon Meshi AU, ft. chimera KDJ and bratty chef adventurer YJH. Enjoy!

Tell Me I Did Good Until Now by featherx

GEN. with a little sangsoo on the side. KDJ returns post epilogue, but stays a child in body and mind. This one had me reeling for the whole week when I read it. Sweet and melancholy. I especially loved YJH being bullied by children. KDJ is really, profoundly loved in this one.

An Incomplete Record of Correspondence Between The Magnificent, Unbiased, Genius Author Han Su-yeong and The Jackass Who Dares to Edit Her Work by Dragonomatopoeia

Joongdok. Yoohan's annoying arguments in the ORV shared google doc. The concept and title alone are too funny to not put on this list.

The Prologue Past the Epilogue by AVoresmith

Yoohankim, though mostly just JD at the moment. Of all the ORV fics I've ever read, I think this fic comes to closest to imitating the actual writing style of ORV along with nailing the characterizations with pinpoint precision. Also contains a JD kiss chapter that is more intense than any actual nsfw scene they could have wrote. There are some caveats to this recommendation though:

It gets slightly NSFW in the latest chapter.

Biyoo is several hundred years old and is treated as an adult, not a kid. There will be mention of Biyoo in relationships with adult partners -- including implied YJH. In my opinion it's handled tactfully, but it's also something that might turn some people off to this fic, so please be aware!

LGY has a big puppy love crush on KDJ. Obviously completely one-sided, but it's there.

Home Invasion by misoriri

GEN. KDJ gets shingles and has to be taken to the doctor. YJH breaks a door and then looms in the kitchen like an evil lamp post. JHW bites a tomato like an apple. LJY gets demolished at Club Penguin Card Jitsu. A short read, but hysterical. KCom is so fucking funny in this.

I saw you in a dream by featherx

GEN, Doksoo if you squint. OD meets the HSY of his new worldline, and can't help feeling like he knows her from another time, another place. Had to lay down after this one. Solid 999 and SP fam content, as well as typical YHK style cosmic unbreakable bonds.

We are A Woven Thread by ksalientian

Yoohankim. A reincarnation AU. I read this one a while back but I found it again recently and it still hits just as hard! The cosmic codependence trio finds themselves trapped in another looping cycle, but as is always the case with them, they always find each other and are okay in the end.

A Short Pause by Je_te_veux

GEN, but can be read as JD. An episode set between 517 and 520, a day in the life of YJH, and having some time to think. JTV is a Chinese writer, and you will need to copy and paste into a translator to read their fics, but genuinely they are one of the best ORV writers I've ever read. This fic is one of the ones I always come back to. Really excellent YJH characterization.

Honey and Ginger by Rivani

Yoohankim. Good old fashioned fluff sickfic! The banter is very well done; the three of them are insufferable <3

Too Many Cooks by SonaSona

Yoohankim. KCom makes dinner. HSY makes herself a nuisance. Sona's prose is incredible, and her characterization of the main trio is impeccable. Light, sweet, with just a touch of the ORV brand melancholy. Yoohan is always funny.

There are more but this post is getting pretty long so! Enjoy 👍

[intrepidacious]

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 before; well, not since he’s moved in. 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

thank you for reading!! you can follow my library blog @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications 💚

[thegrimreaperisanerd]

hi :) binge read your de fic that you have posted on ao3 last night and really enjoyed all of it! excited to see any updates. was wondering if you have any rec for other fic youve read and enjoyed-- i am not god's bravest soldier and do not enjoy trudging through tags and was wondering if you had read anything yourself that you really enjoyed lolol

Hey, thanks so much!!! Sorry it's taken a couple days to answer this, I'm poor as shit and have two jobs now wah... capitilism...

I'm working on the next 46' chapter, It's about 70% complete and I generally let it sit for an evening once it's done then re-read it the next day to catch the vast majority of mistakes (I edit everything myself) so I'd say expect that in the coming days.

I have some thoughts! I... Have never been asked for fic recs before so I'm gonna list a bunch in no particular order that I enjoyed, and reasons why. I will note that I tend to enjoy meaty plot-based works over fluff, so that's what I'll be recommending. Anyway!

Paddling Out (THE REPEATER CORPSE CONUNDRUM) - @transhitman - So this is the first DE fic I read and it set the bar pretty fucking high. YOU'VE GOT: a very cool and insular setting (don't get me wrong I like fics where they travel around Revachol too, but there's something to be said for building a set and living in it for a while) YOU'VE GOT: extremely harrowing tension and pale-fuckery YOU'VE GOT: some genuinely beautiful, heartfelt moments (I don't want to spoil anything but "people don't need your permission to care about you" kinda undid me) YOU'VE ALSO GOT: Amazing art?! Always a bonus, I wish I could draw people lol

Have You Heard The News That You're Dead? - Wizardlover - Time Loop shenanigans hell yeah! Basic premise: Kim is *unable* to save Harry's life after he's shot at the tribunal, each time he dies he Reawakens in Martinaise on the first day and desperately has to try and find a way to either prevent the Tribunal entirely, or survive it. I think the major draw to this one is how well it's characterised and how well that lends to the major source of tension: trying to convince THE WORLD'S BIGGEST SKEPTIC that you *a man he 'has only just met'* is actually stuck in a time loop. Juicy shit.

The Case Of The Man Who Two-Thirds Wasn't There - @glisteningceruleaneyes - We got another case fic here, gang. This is one of those "they travel around Revachol" numbers I previously mentioned. A lot to love about this fic; the minor OCs are all loveable (or at least well-written, looking at you Mr. Bigot-All-Rounder), the elements of writing in the game's style (particularly use of Harry's 'to do' list that you find in the ledger, you don't see that as often!) are all fantastic. Also without spoiling too much I'm a sucker for hurt/ comfort :) I like when bad things happen to our specialist guy :) ALSO! alternating chapters, Kim vs Harry's perspectives contrast REALLY well! Just a super enjoyable read. - On that note I also wanna include a special mention: there's a podfic for this one and since I mentioned my two jobs, I've been listening to audiobooks at work (I'm a cleaner. It's very boring) and that was a fun change of pace!

The Emergent Causeway - hal_incandenza - Now you KNOW this one is good because it's the only *unfinished* fic I'm recommending. Again, We've got art! We've got a brand new (non-Revachol!) setting that still feels excellently Elysium! We got that excellent balance of humour and misery from the get go! EXCELLENT murder mystery so far, I am intrigued AND also there's a fucking puppy. Hell yeah. This one's from Kim's perspective and does a really good job of it, nothing like a man being begrudgingly sent on holiday and being somewhat relieved to have a corpse to deal with.

A Spilled Kaleidoscope - @spilledkaleidoscope - I'm actually recommending a series here. Real definition of "came for the art, stayed for the writing" I mostly have a soft spot because I got to watch a few "haha, what if-?" musing text posts become a series of written chapters and INCREDIBLE DRAWINGS HOLY SHIT. Like, you really just draw hands for fun, huh? This person made a pact with some sort of devil beasts to draw hands very good, at the bare minimum we can read their fiction.

Nothing To Lose But Our Chains - Lepak - I almost forgot this one and I honestly can't believe it because this is one of these ones that you need a cigarette afterwards. Good fucking god. This is probably the best fic I've ever read in terms of not shying away from the heavy themes that make Disco Elysium such a beautiful, moving game. It tackles a racism in many forms, particularly how people like Kim (in working for the RCM) and immigration laws do their part in upholding racist systems, despite the way it hurts him too. Of course, it's also excellently written with tense scenes and some real funny moments. A real good'un here.

The Catacomb Killer - SupposedToBeWriting - Give Harry more memory loss. Make him convinced he killed a kid. Make *Kim* convinced he killed a kid... Then the plot thickens. I won't lie I can't remember fuck all about this one because I was mostly drunk when I read it, but if it was good enough that I kept reading instead of smoking a spliff or something then it must have been excellent... I will re-read it when I have the time, lmao.

MURDER ON THE AIRWAVES - @randomisedmongoose - I'm just a really big fan of murder mysteries and gore. You show me somebody with brain matter pouring from their earholes and I'm like "yum yum, more of that please." I am a sucker for curious methods of murder and this one's good for that. Lots of trekking back and forth like in the game again. More ACAB - always good.

I did not mean to include this many...........................

Oh well. Here's my list, there are plenty of others I've enjoyed but these are just the ones that came to mind! Thanks again for reading my fic! Always makes me happy when people let me know they enjoy my writing :3

[dreamerrgirl]

Chenford + 5x19 speculation fic... their relationship is put to the test ❤️

When Tim quietly pushes Lucy's apartment door open at 10:30 that night, the last thing he expects to find is his girlfriend pacing back and forth across the floor, her hair falling out of the messy bun she has piled on the top of her head.

"Hey," she says, giving him a distracted smile, still pacing.

"Hi yourself," he answers, raising an eyebrow at her in question. "Is everything okay? I figured you'd be in bed by now."

She shakes her head. "No, I'm too wired to sleep."

Oh yay, Tim thinks to himself, internally groaning. He had really been looking forward to collapsing into bed and snuggling up with her the second he walked through the door- he was pretty much dead on his feet. Taking a deep breath in an effort to keep his brain functioning for at least a few more minutes, he slowly sinks down onto one of her barstools, giving her his full attention.

"What's wrong? Is the detectives exam stressing you out?"

"No, it's not that," she says, worrying at her bottom lip, standing on the opposite end of the kitchen. "It's more about you said this morning, about us having to get used to not seeing each other as much."

"Yeah, and I said we'll figure it out, right?"

"Well yeah... but how?"

Tim shakes his head, his brain at a loss for the moment. "Well I don't know right this minute."

"I mean, it's not like we have any control over the hours we'll be working," she starts, Tim swearing he can physically see the gears turning in her head.

"Right..."

"And it's not like I'm going to ask you to leave Metro or anything."

"You better not, you're the one who got me there in the first place," he jokes, giving her a look. "And you know I'd never keep you from going after your dreams."

"I know," she says, smiling softly at him. "But then where does that leave us?"

Tim takes a second to study her hesitant expression, his eyes narrowing. "I feel like you have an answer to this that you want me to get to, but I'm just not getting there," he says honestly. "What are you thinking?"

Lucy sighs, her teeth continuing their assault on her bottom lip. "I don't know- I don't know if it sounds crazy or not. I’m not very good at this kind of stuff.”

“At what kind of stuff?”

She shrugs, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t know, all this serious relationship stuff. I’ve never really been in one before.”

“Is that what this is?” Tim teases, smiling at the incredulous look she gives him. He holds his hands up in defense. “Hey, we haven’t really had that talk yet, you know, the feelings talk?”

She makes her way towards him, her smile almost patronizing. “I thought it was implied.”

He lifts his shoulders, feigning nonchalance. “But it is nice to hear every once in a while, you know,” he says, his voice low, a sliver of truth seeping into his words.

She’s standing in front of him now, close enough for Tim to feel the heat radiating off her body. “Lay it on me,” he continues, staring into her eyes.

“Well, I was thinking that between you having to run home after every shift to feed Kojo and bring him out before having to drive all the way over here, that’s already taking up a lot of our time.”

Tim nods along. “I don’t know,” she says again, her eyes dropping to the floor. “If we could somehow find a way to get rid of all the back and forth, that might help.”

Tim leans back a little, his heart giving a little lurch in his chest. "Like moving in together, you mean?" he clarifies, his eyes searching hers.

She smiles sheepishly. "Yeah, something like that."

"Are you sure you're ready for that? I mean when Chris brought it up not even half a year ago-"

She makes a face at him. "That's different."

"How?"

She sighs, cocking her head. "Do you really need me to spell it out for you?"

When he doesn't answer, she steps closer, looping her arms around his neck, her face just far enough away that he's not going cross-eyed looking at her.

"I know we haven't been together very long, but, I've never felt this way before about anyone, ever," she says, her fingers gently running through the hair at the nape of his neck. "You feel like home to me, and I keep finding myself wanting to spend more time with you, not less."

"I feel the same way," he murmurs, leaning forward to gently rest his forehead against hers.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He kisses her then, softly, gently, and can feel her smiling against his lips.

"So I'm not being crazy?" she asks, her voice gaining more confidence.

"No," he says, giving her one more kiss, because for some reason, with her, he can never get enough. "I think it's a great idea."

Pulling back, he attempts to stifle a yawn, but is entirely unsuccessful. "So," he continues, rubbing his hands together. "Now that we have that figured out, can we go to bed please?"

"Really?" she snorts, looking at him like he's crazy. "That's all you have to say? It was that easy? I've been agonizing over this all day!"

Tim shrugs, crossing his arms. "I don't know, it's as they say- when you know, you know."

"And you know?" she asks, cocking an eyebrow.

Pushing himself to standing, Tim stretches his arms up and over his head before he brings one down around her shoulders, pulling her tight against his side as he smiles down at her, unable to resist kissing her for the third time. "Oh, I know," he mumbles against her lips, gently steering her towards the bedroom, wanting nothing more than to crawl under the covers and fall asleep with her tucked safely in his arms, knowing they'll have many more nights together just like this.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Epic Buddie Fic Rec | October 9th-15th 2023

Hey guys!

I'm trying to get back into the habit of making these recs every week. I've been working on a banner and it's not ready yet, but I didn't want to wait for it to be ready before making fic recs because procrastination = bad!! 😆 I hope you enjoy!

If you don't know me from my other fic rec blogs, I rec pretty much all the fics that I've read and that I've enjoyed in these recaps, but I put an emoji next to the ones that I liked just a liiiiiittle bit more 😉 For Stucky, I used blue hearts (💙), for Steddie I used black hearts (🖤), and for Buddie... well the decision wasn't too hard to make 😜

Complete

take me to the edge (then let me fall) by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (PWP | 1K | Explicit): Or, the one where Eddie edges Buck until he loses his mind all the while calling him a good boy.

🔥 but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down) by diazchristopher/ @captain-hen (Post-S6, Time Loop | 28K Mature): He puts his laptop away after a bit, and paces the length of his apartment as he tries to take stock of the situation at hand. One: The date is March 22nd, 2024. Two: It has been March 22nd for 3 days now. Three: Buck is trapped in some kind of time loop that is forcing him to relive this day. Four: Eddie is, apparently, in love with him. And. And. Five: Buck doesn’t feel the same way.

🔥 still by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Post-Season 6 AU, Near Death Experiences | 9K | Teen): “Your guess was correct, Diaz,” the bomb technician tells them, as he gestures to the orange circle. “You’re standing on a large sensor plate, wired to a detonator. It’s incredibly important that you don’t move. Don’t shift. When you put your weight down, it was like cocking a gun - you take your weight off, this thing is powerful enough to take the entire house with it."

to feel the need of your touch by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (PWP, Light BDSM, Post-Season 6 | 7K | Explicit): When Natalia had casually suggested they stay fuck buddies, at least until he got his shit together about Eddie, Buck had seriously considered it. But it just wasn’t what he wanted. So, he had said no and Natalia had understood, and that was that. And now, Buck was miserable. He was so sensitive. His skin felt like a live wire. Any and all touches he received started to feel like a shock to his system. Or, the one where Buck is touchstarved and desperate for Eddie. They fuck but it's also really sweet.

reassure me with your praise by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (PWP, Kinktober, Getting Together | 5K | Explicit): Or, the one where Buck is concerned he might be bad in bed and Eddie has a solution.

bet on it by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (PWP, Kinktober | 4K | Explicit): Or, the one where newly together Buck and Eddie make a bet to see who can last longer without sex. The bet lasts one day.

Something Dumb to Do by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (Friends to Lovers, First Time | 8K | Explicit): "Too bad we can't just date each other." Eddie laughs. "What?" "No, I'm serious!" Buck sets his beer down, the better to gesture with both hands, face lighting up, and Eddie just—he really loves the guy, okay. Ridiculous as he is. "It would be so much easier! You wouldn't have to introduce a new person to Chris—he already likes me anyway—and you could tell Pepa so she'll stop setting you up on dates that don't go anywhere—" "And what would you get out of this?" Eddie asks, grinning. - Or: Buck and Eddie try something out together.

hope is a sword by marcato/ @callaplums (Post-Season 6, Near-Death Experiences | 5K | Teen): Holy shit, Eddie loves him so much. He’s been so stupid, telling himself to wait for the right moment. What right fucking moment? It should have been yesterday, three weeks ago– hell, it should have been three years ago when he was telling his best friend about the goddamn will. It doesn’t matter right now, though. The only thing that matters is keeping as much of Buck’s blood inside his body as possible. One can only hope and wish and pray.

🔥 Four Can Keep a Secret by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-Season 6, Secret Relationship | 20K | Teen): When Ravi and Hen accidentally see Buck and Eddie, who are trying hard to keep their new relationship a secret, in the middle of a romantic moment, they try to make them confess without the rest of the station finding out. Shenanigans ensue.

early hours of yearning by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (PWP, Kinktober | 4K | Explicit): “You really wanna go again?" “Yes,” he confirms, gently scratching his teeth down the side of his neck, treasuring the deep moan he gets in response. “God, you’re fucking insatiable," he hears Eddie moan as he tilts his head back, giving Buck more space to work. “Doesn’t feel like you’re complaining."

how forever feels by icesculptures/ @ice-sculptures @athenagranted (Post-Season 6, Getting Together | 8K | General): Or: tired of the growing distance between them, Eddie asks Buck to dance at Maddie and Chimney's wedding, healing more than his own heart along the way.

WIP

Don't They Know It's the End of the World? by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Fallout 4 AU, Post-Apocalyptic | 4/14 | 7K | Mature | Warning: Violence): After being put in a cryogenic sleep for over a hundred years to wait out an apocalyptic event, Eddie Diaz wakes up, too early, to find his son has been stolen from his cryo-chamber. Scared and alone in a frightening world he doesn't recognize, Eddie is willing to do anything to get his kid back.

🔥 Nothing Left But You by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars ("Blip" AU | 8/9 | 24K | Teen | Warning: MCD): In May of 2021, 25% of Earth's population suddenly disappears. Including Eddie. In May of 2026, they all come back. Eddie finds himself suddenly in the middle of a world he doesn't recognize, where the people he loves most have changed significantly.

Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Demon Buck, Canon Divergent | 2/? | 4K | Teen): Buck is a demon with the power to help with pregnancy, childbirth, and infant health. When the Buckleys make a deal asking for someone to help 'save their baby', Buck leaps at the chance as it will give him what he's always wanted: a life on earth. But demon deals are tricky and neither of them gets quite what they're after. This is Buck's journey as he navigates growing up on earth and remembering how to help those in need.

🔥 for all the haunts and homes of men by euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Apocalyptic, Station Eleven Crossover | WIP | 10/? | 85K | Mature | Warning: Violence): The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

[crescentfool]

I noticed you're a Ryomina!!! How did you get into it? And do you have any good fanfics/doujinshi you can advice me to read? ANYTHING on Ryomina actually? I'm dying for anything about them!!! Thanks!!

yes!!! it's me!!! i'm ryomina fan (one of many)!!! thank you for visiting my askbox, i'll do my best to answer all of the questions because it always makes me happy to see that ryomina sparks joy for people! :D

...this got really long because i like linking to things, so i'm putting it under a read more (IM VERY NORMAL ABOUT THEM)

how did i get into it? i got into persona 3 around august 2021 through the movies- at the time my only experience with the persona series was with P5R / P5S / P5D. p3 was the one that interested me the most (i thought minato was very pretty + i caught wind that the themes of the game were very resonant with people). i picked the movies over the game because i'm a guy who plays games at a snails pace, haha.

admittedly, i did latch onto ryomina because of the scenes in the third and fourth movie (i have mentioned in the tags of this art i drew how much i felt like i was exploding and blasting off to the moon watching it).

but what really dug me into the ryomina hole (and what has kept me there) was thinking about how much ryoji encapsulates the themes of p3- and how interconnected his fate is with minato. i wrote some musings about their dynamic here, if you're interested!

tl;dr: what if we were both boys and we were mirror images of each other and i inherited your kindness and looks but god doomed our narrative even though we're soulmates

on ryomina fanworks recommendations:

regarding fics: i'm going to assume that you've probably read the fics that have the highest kudo ratings on them, so i won't really be listing those.

a personal favorite fic that i always hold close to my heart is Eurydice's Vow by crescentmoontea, which explores the idea of ryomina in p5r's third semester. this was the first fic i read about ryomina and it made me tear up lots...

i also think a lot about I Alone Await You by Nail_gun, literally scrumptious writing that captures the ryomina dynamic so so well. actually check out Nail_gun's other ryomina fics while you're at it too!

other fun fic i'm fond of: can't get my mind out of those memories (what were they?) by foxmulder_whereartthou. ryoji being homeless lives rent free in my head and it's all because of this fic. there's a bunch of other fun ryominas from the same author too (i still need to read them)

BkZa555 also has some fun AU scenarios if you're into that too, notably with Zagreus (P5-Setting, Ryoji focus) and The Definition of Insanity (TIME LOOP fuckery!), but they're currently ongoing.

these were some ones that came to my mind first- as i have the strongest recollection reading them. admittedly i haven't really been reading fic this year, so i don't have many recommendations from fic that came out this year. but if you're so inclined to let ryomina consume your soul, i definitely recommend giving the newer works in the ryomina tag a look-see and see if it strikes your fancy!

as a side note, i do have a few ryomina fics that i've bookmarked on my ao3 here, though i have to say that i'm not sure how well they hold up in terms of like... what i would seek out of a fic these days. but they made past me happy so i bookmarked them, LOL. it's kind of outdated (my collection of fic recs has my old username *disintegrates*).

regarding doujinshi: i have not read all the ryomina doujinshi available, but as a starting point, please take a look at this list from pandora-scans from livejournal!

notably, this is where you can find the strawberry-chan say good bye doujin- which features a small and cute comic from shuji sogabe (the p3/p4 manga artist), as well as other artists. the existence of this doujinshi is the funniest thing to me because it's like "HEY if you're wondering what the volume 8 cover is really gay it's because sogabe contributed to a ryomina doujin." this fact makes my head spin (positive). it explains a lot about the manga.

regarding persona side material:

i know you didn't ask for these but i thought that i mine as well list these too, since i feel that the side materials have some fun expansions on ryoji and minato's interactions. i haven't... watched/read all of these but, hey, i like to share these things!

for comic anthologies for the persona series (some of which have ryoji!). if you're interested in reading them, here's a scanlation index from maboroshi-no on tumblr. i don't think this is a comprehensive list, but i think it will be a great starting point!

for some translations of the persona 3 drama cds, check out imaginary-numbers on dreamwidth! ryoji and minato interactions can specifically be found in the persona 3 character drama cd vol. 1, and for the audio + english subs, you can watch this video on youtube:

and ohh the musical. ryoji singing and dancing gives me so much joy. i haven't watched the musical in it's entirety (only fragments), but here are some links that may be of interest to you:

Ao no Kakusei (The Blue Awakening), Sakuya version - playlist for the first p3 musical, translated by Phoenix Maiika.

Ao no Kakusei (The Blue Awakening), Kotone version - playlist for the femc version!! also translated by Phoenix Maiika on YouTube.

Persona 3: The Weird Masquerade (English Subtitles) - playlist by rumio!

P3 Weird Musical DVD & Soundtrack Booklet Scans by rumio_k - twitter thread that links to these funsies, if you don't have twitter, here's the publicly shared drive link.

god. these sure are a lot of links, huh? i hope you enjoy them- pick and choose whatever sounds most appealing! (if this overwhelmed you im sorry GKLHLDH i just like being very comprehensive in my answers about things so i got carried away).

and as a reminder, you (and anyone else reading) are always welcome to browse my tags/archive and reblog things from there anytime! i have... nearly 300 ryomina posts which, while mostly consists of art, has a few fics, meta, hcs, gifs, memes, and whatnot scattered about.

or browse the minato and ryoji tags too! there's.. nearly 1k minato. and 500 ish ryoji. and they're going to keep on growing because i can't stop being obsessed with archiving these things. god help me i am so deep in this hole called ryomina hell and now you're here too. welcome aboard!

there's always going to be a lot of fun ways to enjoy rotating ryomina around in one's brain, i think- they're a pairing with such fun symbolic imagery that is So Deep (to me) but ALSO they're immensely hilarious and weird guys (affectionate). so i love to share these things in hopes that it gives you joy too! they are the most couple ever (to me) (i'm biased)

thank you again for the ask! i hope it can satiate your need for more ryomina, and be a nice aide in exploring the p3 fanspace :)

[heartz4hisch]

TOURNIQUET - q.h

A/n: First fic!!! I've never written ANYTHING not for school before, so if this is ass, lie and tell me it's amazing im fragile.

tws: uh, extensive time in airport? light alcohol consumption(Literally its only mentioned), reader has not the best history with relationships. if i missed any let me know!

There’s delays on the planes out of Eastern Montana where you told me you were leavin’ from.

You’d lost track of how long you’d been sitting against the wall on the grimy airport floor, but it was long enough for your legs to go numb and your back to go from sore to dully throbbing.  Your headphones had died a long time ago, and so you found yourself sitting there, listening to the unfamiliar melody of the airport PR system mixed with the wails of unhappy children, and a businessman or two loudly taking work calls while walking up and down the terminal hallway.

You found your eyes wandering, unable to stop themselves from examining every other living soul within eyesight.  Funnily enough, everyone looked the same.  Same exhaustion written over their faces, seeping into their bones.  Same unkempt appearance, likely a result of being stuck in a small airport for six hours longer than originally planned.  You were in your own little world, so needless to say you were caught slightly off guard when you made eye contact with a brunette sitting farther down the wall from you.  He shot you a small smile, raising his hand as a makeshift greeting.  Despite your exhaustion, you were unable to keep yourself from smiling back. Something about this slightly disheveled mystery man giving you the time of day gave you a warm feeling in your gut. 

You thought that was it.  That mystery man would go back to being in his own little world, and you’d go back to yours, and that’d be the end of that.  You were proven wrong, however, when motion to the left of you caught your eye.  You felt your lips tugging upwards as you saw the motion was mystery man himself, moving to sit next to you.  He offered you no greeting, instead opting to dig through his battered, navy blue backpack, until he pulled out a bag of chocolate m&m’s.  He opened the pouch, shaking it a little, before looking over you and offering you a small smile. 

“Want some? My mom always told me that chocolate is the best solution to delayed flights.”

You laughed, pressing your lips together in an attempt to muffle the noise.

“That’s funny, my mom always told me to never take candy from a stranger.”

A chuckle slipped past mystery man’s lips, before he nodded thoughtfully. 

“I’m Quinn.  Less of a stranger if you know my name, right?”

You've been stabbed in the back and the rest of your body, won't you tell me where you’re bleedin' from?

In the weeks following the m&m exchange in the Vancouver airport, Quinn became less and less of a stranger every day.  Sharing the sweet treat turned into sharing numbers, which turned into sharing things about yourselves you two had never told anyone else.  But like it always did, reality snuck its way in, dragging doubts and fears in with it.  Things were going well, too well, if you were to be honest.  You had been in situations like this before.  A sweet and caring pretty boy weasels his way into your life, right when you’ve become perfectly content with being alone, loves you up, makes you think he loves you, and then leaves.  It felt like a sick loop you were constantly stuck in.

Unintentionally, you found yourself pulling away from Quinn gradually.  You thought that maybe you got away with it, that he didn’t notice how more time would pass each time he texted before you replied, or that he didn’t notice you were consistently getting busier and busier, almost always having something going on on his off days.  You were proven wrong, however, when late one night, after a Canucks win at home, there was a knock at your door.  

Confused, you went to the door, carefully checking the peep hole to make sure you weren’t about to be murdered.  What you found on the other side of the door felt worse, if possible.  Because there, in all his post-game glory, was Quinn.  In his left hand, he held what appeared to be a fairly nice bottle of wine, and in his right, a bouquet of light pink Peonies, your favorite flower.  Slowly, with more hesitation than was likely necessary, you opened the door.  

“Hi.” Taking a deep breath as you met Quinn’s eyes, your voice sounding far quieter than it usually did when you spoke to the brunette. 

“Hey.” 

The two of you stood there for a moment, eyes locked, before Quinn finally spoke up again,

“Can I, uh, come in? I think we need to talk.”

You nodded quickly, stepping back and to the side in order to let the boy into your apartment.  Usually, when Quinn came over, you had a routine.  You would go into the kitchen, get glasses for whatever wine Quinn had inevitably brought with him, and he would go into the living room to figure out what the two of you would watch that evening.  

Tonight was different, though.  This time, you grabbed the glasses and bottle opener together before moving to the couch, side by side but never touching.  Your eyes traced the room, examining the wall decor you had picked out far more than necessary.  After what felt like forever, but in reality was only a few moments, you felt a familiar warm, calloused hand grab yours. 

“Tell me what’s going on, pretty girl.”

If you need a tourniquet or if you wanna turn and quit know that I'll be by your side.

If there was one thing you could count on, it was Quinn.  He was there, always, throughout your semi-frequent bouts of depression, or when the unrealistic doubts came creeping in once again.  Quinn never needed to ask what you needed, or what he could do. He always knew, somehow.  He was always your number one supporter, especially when you randomly decided to go to Graduate school halfway through your senior year at University of BC.  Through every up and down, Quinn stuck by you, putting you back together whenever you crumbled.

I bandage up your body and your bones and your bad days too, take care of the blood that your love runs through.

W.C : 1040.

[spaceyaceface]

Heeeeeeeeyyyyy.

First off, your writing is amazing and it makes me so freaking happy. I think I've read You Were The First like 17 times, so... Yeah. Anyway I had an idea for a really cute fic that would mean a lot to me personally.

Could you do something with Ominis where the reader (not the games MC, because Ominis deserves better) is also disabled? I was thinking maybe a fem!reader who has health issues/is really frail and walks with a limp because of it would be really adorable to see. Like maybe he always knows when she's around because of her abdominal gait. The idea of him asking someone like this to the Yule Ball where people say they'll never be able to dance together because of his blindness and her limp AND THEN THEY PROVE THE HATERS WRONG??? 👌👌👌 Two disabled people in love means everything to me. I need this in my life. Please. I'll do anything.

(If you don't want to write this, I entirely understand. I'm a writer too and I get that inspiration is a fickle thing. Keep up the beautiful work, lovely.)

Your wish is my command, love!!! I sure hope this turned out alright! It's maybe a bit short, I hope that's ok! Thanks so much for a prompt, I LOVED it!!! And thank you thank you thank you for all the love you give me, I can't tell you how much I appreciate it!

Warnings: None :)

Ominis could feel people staring. Over the years, he'd become well-versed in that strange extra sense, recognizing the slight prickle on the back of his neck. It usually bothered him a bit---people thought they could get away with it, as he couldn't stare back. He didn't like feeling like some sort of display for the world to view at their leisure.

But tonight he couldn't care less.

He didn't care if every pair of eye in the whole of Hogwarts rested on him. All he cared about were the familiar uneven footsteps coming towards him.

A wide grin formed on his face as the delicate scent of her lavender perfume hit him. He reached out a hand, and without the slightest hesitation, she took it.

The crowd seemed to disperse a bit as the two walked toward the ballroom. It wasn't as if he hadn't heard the slight whispers around the castle when word got out he'd asked her to the Yule Ball---Ominis was always one to keep up with the latest in school gossip, and he wasn't surprised that the news was something of note to his peers. For some reason, the fact that the two of them---the blind boy and the girl with a limp---were going to the ball together caused some sort of stir. He'd heard faint whispers asking how they'd be able to dance, or if they'd just stay sitting for all of it. Would she even dress up, if she didn't get the satisfaction of her date admiring it?

None of it mattered to him.

Instead, the only thing that mattered was her and the way her arm looped through his, the bare skin of her forearm feeling warm and inviting as she led him.

He leaned his head closer to hers. "You look beautiful, by the way."

She chuckled a bit. "And how do you know?"

"I've always known," he said simply. "Besides, I can feel all the heads that turn toward you when we walk by. I'd dare say they're jealous."

They stopped near a table as couples around them moved to positions to dance. "If they envy anything, it's the lucky chance I have to be your date," she said, letting her arm fall from his elbow to trace down and grasp his hand.

He grinned. "You flatter me, darling."

"I try."

He gave her hand a squeeze as the music began to swell, the first dance beginning. "Shall we?" he asked.

"I thought you'd never ask."

She helped guide him to an empty space on the floor, his wand tucked into his pocket. He had no use for it---she was the only guide he needed tonight. Their arms raised into position, and he took a moment to revel in the way his hand felt on her waist. Then they began.

They moved like two cogs in an intricate machine---as if they'd been carefully crafted to fit together. With the gentle pressure of her hand, she expertly kept them out of harms way. He never had to doubt a step, trusting completely that she'd be his sight. In turn, his hands kept her firm. He led each step with a grace so contagious that it spread to her effortlessly. Each turn and movement was perfect, making up for any weakness in her leg with an outpouring of support.

There was no question that they were the best dancers on the floor.

People were staring again---he could feel it. And once again, he didn't care. In fact, he reveled in it. Damn their doubts and their whispers. They were perfect together. It was time they recognized what a blind man had seen all along.

[mitskijamie]

Dying to know where the tree nut allergy came from

ajdbsnjdkskxn so I started writing a Sunflowers time loop fic a while back about Jamie dying in increasingly ridiculous ways in Amsterdam and Roy having to try to figure out how to save him, and one of my Jamie death ideas was an allergic reaction

The scene is like Roy takes Jamie to get a Stroopwafel with chocolate and peanuts (because Jamie told him on a previous night that he got Stroopwafel with chocolate and peanuts when he visited with his mom and Roy is trying to prove that he's in a time loop and like Knows Things) but the person working is in a hurry to close and accidently gives them one with chocolate and walnuts

So they're sitting and chilling in the park in the middle of the night eating Stroopwafel and Jamie is like "these peanuts taste terrible. what's up with this" and Roy takes a bite and he's like "I think these are walnuts. What have you never had a walnut" and Jamie's like "no. no I've never had a fucking walnut I'm ALLERGIC to walnuts what the FUCK" and starts frantically going through his pockets for his epipen only to remember that he forgot to take it out of his bag when Roy gave his stuff to Will on the bus.

And he dies a fairly horrible death in Roy's arms while Roy is agonizing about how it's all his fault and then Roy immediately wakes up to Ted being like "now fellas I'm gonna say three words no coach ever says unless he dang well means it 🤠"

It's literally so random but I just wrote it in as a plot function of this one wip and it's stuck with me ever since lmao

[jamiesfootball]

in light of all your snippets from the one that makes you sick dunking me in the angst cauldron lately (COMPLIMENT), take this as an opportunity to share anything you feel like about/from that fic (or any of the others) 🌹🌻🌹

Waaaaaaaaah thank you!!!!!

This one began as a classic 'I had the idea for one scene, wrote that, and now I've got to write everything else around it.' In this case I started at the end and worked backwards. It's a very free-flowing method, which is a nice break from some of my other, plotty-er things.

The basic summary is that Jamie's has started to remember bits and pieces of Amsterdam (maybe; it's not like he can know for sure, can he?) leading to him having a mental health crisis while he's in Brazil with Keeley, who is so far out of the loop in terms of what is going on and trying her best not to make it worse. Meanwhile Roy is stranded back in London, losing his mind over the very troubling texts he's receiving from the both of them.

This one is going to be wrapped in trigger warnings. Nothing graphic, but Jamie's head is not a happy place and some of what he's 'remembering' paints a very bad picture of how that night went as his brain plays fill-in-the-trauma-blanks.

Here's a fairly long snippet. No immediate trigger warnings apply:

Keeley woke with a start. Choking on a gasp, her eyes scanned frantically around the cheery little room of the villa where they were staying. The accommodations were lovely. Even in the dark, the bright paintings and fresh flowers caught the ambient light from the window, cradling the room in a dim and soothing warmth. The air smelled sweetly of orchids.

She'd heard someone scream.

She didn't know how long she'd sat there, her breath rattling in her chest. She listened desperately for a follow up sound- anything that would politely let her know if she was about to be murdered. She didn't even have her normal keychain with her - the one with the thingy on it for breaking windows and tail lights. They wouldn't let you bring that sort of thing through customs, and, fuck, she should've taken Rebecca up on the offer to use the jet. Now someone was coming to murder her and all she'd have to defend herself was a flower pot.

Unless she could sneak to the kitchen. There were knives in the kitchen; Jamie had used a big knife that morning to cut up fruit for his smoothie-

Jamie.

Her worries flipped upside-down. She flung her feet out of bed before she realised what she was doing.

Tiptoeing the short distance down the hallway, she came to a pause in front of the other bedroom. She listened closely.

Jamie wasn't a snorer - not like she was - but he wasn't exactly quiet either. He made soft, wheezy little noises when he slept. She'd always thought it was cute.

On the other side of his bedroom door, the room was loudly silent.

Keeley swallowed. Her hand raised to knock, but she hesitated at the last second. Her fist looked small against the impressive stature of the door.

The longer she stood still, the louder the silence grew. He was awake; she knew it.

"Jamie?" she whispered gently. "Are you up, love?"

Something rustled. Maybe. It could've been the air, or her own bare feet shifting against the floor.

It's only a wooden door, she thought fiercely, her eyes beginning to sting. It's only a few metres. But I don't want to make you upset again. I need you to tell me it's okay- that we're okay. Jamie. Please.

The room on the other side of the door remained deathly silent.

Time stretched for a millennia as she trembled in the hallway.

Woodenly, she lowered her fist. She padded softly towards the kitchen.

When she returned, she carried a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Well, the closest thing to it that she could whip together with what had come in the gift basket and what was stocked in the fridge. Without tea, she didn't know what else to do.

"There's a drink out here for you, babe," she whispered through the door. She knelt down to put the mug and it's makeshift saucer-plate on the tile. "If you need-"

Anything. Anything at all.

"-I'm right down the hall. Okay?"

[sarah-sandwich]

20 Questions (for fanfic writers)

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

45

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

1,280,212 lol

3. what fandoms do you write for?

presently? Just spider-man ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

4. top five fics by kudos:

Paradise (spread out with a butter knife) - spideypool 72k - soulmates au that's actually about the power of friendship

Don't Freak Out - parkner 136k - the one where they get kidnapped and spidey saves the day in the first chapter then they spend the rest of the fic falling in love

A Peach Like You - parkner 73k - sequel to a 16k coming of age one-shot in Harley's POV. This one is Peter's POV and he's autistic, overworked, and overwhelmed and this is the very worst time ever for falling in love so he's absolutely not going to do that... on purpose.

The Distance Between (You and Me) - parkner 29k - bodyguard au! Harley was kidnapped and rescued but his kidnappers are still out there so Tony begs an old friend to keep an eye on him until Natasha hunts them down.

You're Freaking Out - parkner 166k - sequel to Don't Freak Out this time with Plot! and Miles!!!

5. do you respond to comments?

Sometimes? I've gotten really bad about it :( After an update/new fic I try to get all the comments that come in over a week or so... but then I retreat into my cave and giggle and squee over them in private.

6. what is the fic your wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmm I don't really do angst and especially not endings... but maybe The Devil is a Hopeless Romantic? I wouldn't call it an angsty ending though. Maybe bittersweet? Idk it's been awhile since I've read it. Not my favorite tbh

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Happy endings are my bread and butter lol The happiest? Uhhh

Lemme just plug For the First Time, Eye to Eye because it's one of my all time favs and hasn't come up yet.

8. do you get hate on fics?

nope!

9. do you write smut?

yep! Baseball Smut ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ yeah that's the title just posted this morning!

10. craziest crossover:

I haven't written a crossover since I was writing for spn and none of them ever made it out of my wips folder lol I had spn crossovers with Firefly, Teen Wolf, The 100, Criminal Minds, and (naturally) The Hunger Games. Man, I miss that. Such a versatile show.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that I know of!

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

YES! biggest compliment so cool

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope! Done some brainstorming a time or two but just for fun. idk that I could collaborate that well what with my disappearing into the abyss habit...

14. all time favorite ship?

I mean parkner's got the longevity doesn't it? Dean and Cas will always have a special place with me though

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

My time travel time loop parkner fic le siighh

16. what are your writing strengths?

Hmm I think overall voice (not just dialogue but internal narrative too) and breathing fresh air into old tropes.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Action scenes. My god they take forever to think of a way to do them that isn't tired and boring. And then I still have to write it.

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

adds enrichment in my enclosure

19. first fandom you wrote in?

hp

20. favorite fic you've written?

oof umm probably Peaches Ain't Pretty (the alluded to 16k Harley POV coming of age one-shot). Taught me I could write outside of fanfic if I wanted. It's actually the foundational inspiration that lead to Red, like my bleeding heart in your hand. Opened up the whole beach (if I'm brave enough to leave the sandbox). Anyway it's got a special spot in my heart. I'm probably due for a re-read tbh.

Thanks for tagging me @spoofymcgee!

no pressure tagging: @jammerific @wyxan @myarmsaretoolong @fieldsofview

[amazingmsme]

Living Up to the Name

AN: This really got away from me, but it’s nandermo, can you blame me? We have a serious drought of wwdits tickle fics & like, what fucking gives they made it canon that the vamps tickle each other (or at least Nandor & Lazlo) & no I will not find a gif I am useless like that This one dips a pinky toe into the spicy pool, so be warned. Literally nothing happens, but bondage is involved & that’s about it. But day 20: relentless just SCREAMED nandermo & I just had to do it justice.

Guillermo was used to the odd requests the vampires would ask of him, some a little too odd, so it was no surprise that he'd become desensitized to it. Strangely enough, it was their more mundane and tame requests that threw him for a loop.

He'd just finished vacuuming the drapes (yes they needed to be vacuumed) when Nandor walked in. "Guillermo," he said, announcing his presence and grabbing his attention.

"Hello master," he greeted with a smile, one Nandor shyly returned before growing serious once more. He was doing that thing where he wanted to say something, but wanted you to be the one to prompt the conversation, so he just lingered in the room until you cracked.

"Did you need something?" he asked when Nandor didn't continue on his own.

"I've just been thinking a lot."

"Oh? What about?"

"Me, obviously." Guillermo couldn't help the amused scoff that slipped out, nor the fondly annoyed look he gave the cameras. Nandor either didn't notice, or didn't care. "Mostly about who I used to be. How I used to be able to make entire countries bend to my will. My reputation as a heartless conqueror," despite the awful words, his voice grew soft with nostalgia. "People used to fear me Guillermo. Some loved me, most hated me. But they all feared me."

Guillermo set down the vacuum attachment and turned to face him. "And do you... miss?... that?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of course I do. What kind of a question is that?" Nandor shot a look of his own towards the camera, as if to say "is this guy for real?" He even went as far as to subtly point at his familiar. Well, as subtle as Nandor was capable of. He let out a heavy sigh. "My name used to mean something. Nandor the Relentless. Now I'm just... Nandor."

"Is that really such a bad thing?" Guillermo asked, brows furrowed. Nandor rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

"I guess not," he grumbled, lower lib jutting out in a pout and he kicked the leg of a nearby table. "But I've gone soft," he said dejectedly.

"No, no you're not soft. You're still just as ruthless as ever," Guillermo tried to comfort him, feeling incredibly awkward as he did so. But it seemed to work at least.

"You really think so?" he asked. Guillermo nodded. Nandor broke out into a wide grin, fangs on full display. "Heh, thanks. These hands used to make people scream," he reminisced, flexing his fingers. Guillermo couldn't help but stare at the movement and swallowed.

"Still do," he added before he thought better of it, eyes going wide. Nandor straightened his posture, watching Guillermo carefully. "I mean- Lazlo and Nadja get pretty loud," he quickly added as an excuse. Nandor smirked and stood up, walking over to Guillermo.

He tried to busy himself so he wouldn't have to look in Nandor's eyes. It still didn't help the flutter in his heart when Nandor towered in front of him.

"Oh Guillermo..." the tone in his voice made him snap his head up to look at him. He didn't know if the hungry look in his eyes frightened or excited him. "Did we make you feel left out?"

Guillermo fumbled for the right words. "N-no, no, I-I'm good. More than good," he stuttered.

"It's okay, no need to be embarrassed here."

"I'm not-" but Guillermo cut himself off, knowing better than to try arguing with Nandor of all people.

"It's only natural to be curious. You could've just asked to join, we totally would've let you," he flirted, making Guillermo blush. "You know, I've wanted to make you scream for mercy for quite some time." The boldness of the statement threw him off guard.

"Have you now?" he asked, voice higher pitched. Nandor must've thought it was out of fear, because he clarified.

"Oh I wouldn't be hurting you. I'd just tickle you until you begged me to stop. But I won't." Guillermo felt his cheeks heat up, his throat going dry. "It's not so bad. Just ask Lazlo.

Guillermo shook his head. "I don't- I don't need his input."

"Very well. Follow me." he gestured with a single finger for him to come along. Obediently, he followed.

He'd only ever been in their... playroom to clean it, and he certainly never thought he'd be brought back here. Never thought he'd be so willing to go either, but life is full of surprises. There were various tools and toys lining the walls and spread out on tables for display, and there were various bondage set ups to choose from.

"Go ahead, make yourself comfortable," Nandor insisted. It was a little hard when Guillermo could hear his pulse racing in his ears. He decided to play it safe, laying on the king sized bed against the wall. Nandor sat next to him, looking him up and down with a kind of excitement Guillermo didn't often see. The fact it was directed at him made butterflies flit about in his stomach.

"Good, now take off your shirt." When Guillermo only stared at him in shock, he clarified, "Trust me, it feels much better without clothes." Guillermo ducked his head and blushed.

"Okay yeah I got it," he rushed out. He took a deep breath and pulled the shirt over his head. "So I-I'm guessing you're gonna just- tie me up?" Nandor chuckled at that.

"No silly, I'm horrible at knots! We have cuffs for that!"

"Of course you do," he mumbled under his breath as Nandor retrieved them. When he came back, standing over the bed, he must've sensed the nervous energy coming off of him in waves.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," he said, surprisingly gentle as he rocked back and forth on his feet. Guillermo furrowed his brows.

"What? No, you wanted this. And I mean, come on," he said, his own voice casual and almost teasing. Nandor cocked his head like a curious puppy. "It's just tickling. How bad can it actually be?" he asked skeptically and almost immediately regretted it.

"Oh you'd be surprised, my dear Guillermo," he all but purred. His heart all but skipped a beat as he laid down on the bed, raising his arms for Nandor to cuff. He did the same his his ankles, testing them to make sure they're secure but not too tight.

His hands hovered over his bare torso for only a moment before diving for the hips. Guillermo shrieked and instantly started bucking. "I thought about starting off slow, but I think we're both too eager for that," he teased, drilling his thumbs over his hip dips.

"Ihihi'm nohohot! S-slow ihihis good!" he cried through his laughter. Nandor hummed, thinking it over before agreeing.

"You're right, we have all night. Why rush things?" he asked, feral grin overtaking his features. Guillermo giggled nervously, the sound growing stronger when Nandor's hands touched down on the tender underside of his arms. Fingertips dragged ever so lightly from his wrists to his armpits, and Guillermo never knew something he could just barely feel could be so torturous. His laugh was short and breath and he was already desperately tugging on his arms. Nandor looked down at him with such adoration, hands never faltering in their movements. Up and down, up and down his arms he went, leaving goosebumps in his wake. When he finally decided to quit playing with his food, he let his hands reach his underarms, drawing lazy circles and playing with the hair.

Guillermo snorted, nose scrunched adorably as his arms flexed and strained to come down. He was barely even touching him, and Guillermo was giggling like a little school girl.

"Wow Guillermo, have you been working out?" Nandor asked when he noticed the bulging biceps  on display. "You've been hiding all of this under shapeless sweaters," he lamented, reaching up to feel the muscle. Funny, he'd never known his fucking biceps were ticklish, until now that is. Nandor was just squeezing them, admiring the muscle and he was practically in stitches.

"I just lihihike sweheaters!" he yelped, arching his back. Nandor acted on impulse, having done this many times with both Nadja and Lazlo and was used to adapting to their bodily reactions. Which was why he shoved his face down onto his belly, growling and nibbling against soft skin as he shook his head, adding even more tickly vibrations to the cocktail of neurons firing in his brain.

Guillermo positively screamed with laughter, light and airy snickers turning to full on cackles in an instant. The combination of soft lips, sharp fangs, and that stupid motherfucking beard had him in an incomprehensible state. And honestly? He couldn't complain. Oh it was horrible, yes, but it was Nandor.

Speaking of, he was feeling rather proud right about now. He was unraveling Guillermo's sanity with each passing second, not only that, but he had agreed to this. The big, strong, vampire killing machine was nothing but a hysterical mess under his fingers, and it was perhaps the greatest power trip he'd felt in ages.

"Ohoho fuck oho shihihit thahahat's ahahawful!" he screeched, thrashing as much as his bonds would allow. Nandor didn't bother to raise his head up when answering, instead speaking directly into the skin and sending him into another round of quiet snickers and chuckles.

"Good, I'm not trying to be nice," he deadpanned, causing a shiver to crawl up Guillermo's spine. Nandor smirked against his stomach before grazing ever so slowly with his teeth. Guillermo swore and bucked violently, deep boisterous laughter bouncing off the walls. It tickled so much that he didn't even notice when Nandor's fangs accidentally pierced through the skin from all his squirming. He sure as hell noticed the tongue that started lapping at the puncture though.

"NAHAHANDOHOHOR NOHOHO! NOHOHO TONGUE OHOHO FUCK PLEHEHEASE!" he shrieked at the top of his lungs. Every part of him was screaming to get away, but those damn fuzzy cuffs prove effective.

To Nandor, the helpless plea might as well have been singing praise. He glanced up and managed to catch Guillermo's eye while he caught his breath, shooting him a devious wink. He shook his head, tugging on his arms.

"Nonono Nandor, whatever it is, don't-"

Nandor, of course, didn't listen, and instead, maintained eye contact as he drug his tongue across his tummy to wiggle straight into his bellybutton.

It's a good think Guillermo was laying down because he felt his legs give out, slowly losing their fight. He was full on cackling now, writhing from side to side and thrashing endlessly. Nandor flicked and swirled his tongue inside his naval, sending him spiraling closer to madness. Each thrust of his hips in an attempt to alleviate the sensation only made it grow worse as Guillermo snorted once more.

"I think you're even worse than Lazlo," Nandor mused aloud, making him blush even more.

"Shuhuhut thehe hehehell up!" he snapped, mirth masking any malice that might've been hidden in his words. Nandor gasped, forming his hands into claws and vibrating them on his exposed tummy.

"Guillermo, I am shocked! You ought to know better than to talk to your master that way," he threatened, a playfully dangerous edge to his voice. Guillermo's eyes widened.

"Ihihi'm sorry! Ihihi'm sohohorry!" he squealed when fingers began working themselves between each rib bone, bubbly snickers and snorts spilling from his mouth.

"I'm afraid sorry isn't good enough," Nandor said without an ounce of sympathy in his voice. He straddled his waist and loomed over him, anxious excitement filling him to the brim. He really hoped that Nandor didn't notice how much he was enjoying this. Which seemed unlikely, seeing as he was practically sitting in his lap.

The sound of buzzing snapped him from his thoughts as he looked at Nandor, who now held an electric toothbrush in each hand. Guillermo felt his heart sink and jump in his throat simultaneously.

They started out in his armpits, making him jolt with a loud peal of laughter. When they didn't move away, his laugh got faster and more shrill the longer the torment continued. Nandor drug the spinning brushes down his sides, relishing in every twitch, gasp and giggle. The toothbrushes made their journey back up, this time taking a detour across the expansive chest.

Guillermo's laugh got more frantic and hysterical as Nandor circled his nipples. He snorted, shaking his head and biting his lip to keep the laughter at bay. It was no use once he touched the brushes down on those sensitive buds. If Nandor thought he was thrashing before, it was nothing compared to this.

"Nahahandohohor plehehease! I ca- I cahahan't!" Guillermo begged through helpless laughter. Nandor cocked his head and hummed.

"Can't what?"

"Ihihi cahahan't tahake ihihihit," he whined, twisting side to side to try and dislodge those downright torturous spinning bristles.

"Aaawww, you poor thing," Nandor mock cooed, leaning down to whisper, "I don't care."

Nandor wasn't planning on stopping anytime soon. After all, he had a relentless reputation to uphold.