#(last post worked... let's see if tumblr can handle this raw....) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

isuspectyouhavefantheories · 4 years ago

Text

Search for the Sun 🌞

So this is Part 2 of “the Sun” series.

Part 1 found : https://isuspectyouhavefantheories.tumblr.com/post/640838971892662272/the-crossroads-to-the-sun here!

Ok so, NSFW, I can’t figure out how to make this appear shorter or have it appear under the cut cus mobile Tumblr sucks eggs. You heard me.

Takemura/Female V fic

Rated MA, for mature, sexual themes, read at own risk.

—————————————-

Somewhere in the Mojave....

“We need a new carburettor for this thing V and someone’s gonna have to re-solder this whole board before we can even do that! We aren’t going to be getting our cargo vans very far like.” Saul sighed, closing the hood of the large van with a heavy thud as he wiped the grease and dust from his hands. His expression was his usual deeply worried frown and she noticed how even as he wiped his hands clean they remained oil stained and grubby. He’d been toiling over engines all day, putting one fire out after another.

“I’ll see what Mitch and I can do but it’s gonna take a little while. We’re already trying to get a handle on repairs to the solar panels and honestly that’s the thing I want to make sure we have fixed before night fall. We can stop for the night, recuperate.” She gave him a pointed look that he only waived off. “I’ll fix up the vans in the morning and we can get going after. We have some time before the next storm, quit your worrying.” V offered, punching his arm lightly, Saul only smiled in return.

“How’d you end up being my second in command? I thought that was supposed to be Panam?” He chuckled.

“She’s got her hands full at the moment.”

“With?”

“Dick.”

Saul balked at her and V only waggled her eyebrows, nodding her head in the direction of a lightly rocking AV on the outskirts of camp.

“Incidentally, his name is also Dick.” She chuckled.

“God damnit, PANAM!” She watched in mild amusement as Saul stormed away toward the aforementioned vehicle to reprimand his second for her blatant public fornication. So she heaved herself forward, ignoring the mild ache in her body and forcing her legs and arms to continue obeying her. V decided that she would save herself the mental anguish of tangling with the solar grid and get out of camp for an hour at the least. Evidently fighting burning migraines and muscle spasms was trying at the best of times, especially when attempting to keep up with her duties to the clan.

She didn’t want to sit around and be a burden on them, regardless of Saul and Panam’s insistence on her getting more rest. In truth, she loathed inactivity, too much time to start thinking, or worse, listening to Johnny, who was still holding out the hope she was going to turn the clan around and storm Mikoshi instead of this slow shicide she had carved out for herself instead. The twilight hours were the worst, because there was nothing she could do, hours she had spent staring at her tent roof, only to give up and lay under the stars, at least then she had something to occupy her. It had been especially hard the last few nights and she had more than once woken to Saul staring down at her with a worried look she would wave off and tell him that really, she was fine, dusting the sand from her and continuing on with her day at camp.

She admired the location for what it was, they had chosen a decent spot for the camp and they had some useful vantage points. Any Raffen trying to get the jump on them would be in for a surprise, they’d see their asses a mile wide.

She pulled Evelyn’s cigarette case from her utility belt pocket, igniting it with a match she then shook out to extinguish as she breathed a long drag.

“Fuuuck.” Johnny groaned appreciatively.

“You’re welcome.” She laughed as she gazed at the expanse of the desert. It’s wild beauty marred by burnt out car wrecks and pile upon pile of garbage. Her eyes landed on yet another old ruined petrol station. She couldn’t help but let her mind wander back to the week previous. Her night with Takemura had been everything to her. Laying there in his arms, basking in the beautiful aftermath listening to him breath as he slept, watching the steady rise and fall of his partially plated chest. She had wanted nothing more in the world than to just stay there in that abandoned truck stop, for the rest of their lives they could be there and she’d have been the happiest woman alive. But as she stared down at his sleeping face she knew she was living a pipe dream.

He was loyal to the bone to Arasaka. She would never be enough, she could never pry those chains from him. Even knowing what she had told him, about Hanako and Saburo, she imagined he had dusted himself off the next morning and returned to his master tail between his legs like the well trained guard dog they made him into. Why wait until morning to watch him fumble and ruin a perfectly good fuck, one for the history books, by seeing him slink back to the clutches of the Emperor’s family? Just to feel the raw sting of his departure, the rejection in his blind obedience to the people that saw him only as a pawn to be played. No. She decided to rip the proverbial band aid off. She was a quiet and stealthy thief, expertly manoeuvring around him in silence and then pushing her thorton far enough out of ear shot from him then just... driving away. She had to admit, it was shitty. To just leave him there without so much as a goodbye. But she knew if she had waited it would have been another day of trying to convince him to let her go.

Or he might have even managed to convince you to go back to Arasaka.

Johnny’s interjection to her train of thought startled her and she watched him materialise, cigarette in hand, perching with his legs dangling from a delapidated hoodoo rock a few yards in front of her.

“I wouldn’t have gone with him Johnny. I wasn’t going to just let them shred you into bits, fuck man, gotta give me more credit than that.” She was annoyed he could even insinuate such a thing, especially given where they now stood.

“You didn’t take your blockers during your little roll around with Mr Miyagi.” He groaned and her cheeks immediately flushed a deep crimson. “I know you were thinking it for a moment there in the... aftermath.” He sighed, looking down at her from his perch.

He took off his aviators and pursed his lips as if he was about to say something pivotal to the narrative but more than likely just as irritating as his previous comment so he decidedly closed his mouth, thinking better of it and returning his gaze to the endless desert plains. The fact that she could read him so well now was not lost on her.

“I wasn’t going to let them hurt you. Believe it or not you’re my friend, Johnny.” He glanced down at her again and a smile attempted to tug at the corner of his lips but he put his shades back on and coughed into his closed fist to cover it up.

“Well thanks. I guess. Doesn’t matter now anyway. We’re done for as is I suppose.” He breathed out a plume of holographic smoke that seemed to float off into the desert. “But you’re still thinking about him.” He deadpanned, making her sigh in irritation.

“Look.. it just kills me because... Goro was my friend too. And now he’s...” she smoothed her hair back from her face, letting her hand slide to the nape of her neck and head drooping down to look at her weathered and scuffed steel toe boots, her tool belt slung across her hips, held together by the tied sleeves of her blue net running jumpsuit she had to wear half down due to being in the beating sun while working all day. She could see her skin was already blistered with another light sunburn but also some sun freckles newly blooming. Her hands, more calloused and rough now than in her entire career as an amateur merc. She frowned. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’m here now Johnny. I know that I shouldn’t keep living in the past but... let me at least mourn. Please?”

“Alright, alright. I get it. Here, just take some advice from a guy who’s had to... leave behind a few broken hearts in his day. Get drunk. Get fucked. Get angry. Get over it. Always worked for me anyhow.” She rolled her eyes at the rocker boy, letting her hand fall to her side, taking the last drag of her cigarette wasn’t even appealing to her so she quickly flicked it away.

“Aw.” Johnny grumbled. “The cherry is the best bit!” He whined but she ignored him. V made to turn back to the camp but some faint movement along the horizon caught her eye. She pulled out her binoculars and got as close as she could to the slightly glimmering and fast approaching object. Upon closer inspection she realised it was a car. And not just any car.

His car.

She froze, glued to the vehicle rapidly approaching the camp.

What the fuck does he think he’s doing?

-———

He admitted to a small amount of apprehension about this move to approach head on as he pulled up alongside the Basilisk, giving it a long stare and praying silently to whatever gods were out there watching over him that he had found the right Nomad camp this time. He had already had to blast his way out of two raffen pits as of yesterday and wasn’t thrilled about the possibility of having to do so again.

A tap on his car window brought him from his thoughts and he rolled it down.

“What brings you here, friend?” Mitch asked, Saul and Panam on the sidelines, iron at the ready.

“I apologise for the intrusion. I mean you no harm, I am simply attempting to locate someone. A friend.” He explained.

“Who’s your friend?” Saul called after him.

“Her name is V.” The Nomads grew quiet, looking between each other. “Perhaps she has passed by here? Stopped for supplies?”

“Excuse me?” Panam sputtered.

“V doesn’t have ties to Arasaka anymore. Suggest you move on.” Saul moved closer to the car window, pushing past Mitch.

He leaned his arm against the top of the car door frame, letting his revolver rest against it in a menacing if threatening show of dominance. This here was the Aldecaldos stomping ground. And he’d be dead in the ground before he let some corpo asshole get their hands on V. Takemura’s eyes hardened a moment on the large nomad, his hands righting on the wheel now as he internally scanned the area with what limited tech he still had to work with. She searched for her signature but either his implants were all now truly offline or she wasn’t here.

“I am not with Arasaka.” Takemura thought he would feel pain at uttering those words, but if anything, each word made him feel lighter.

“Yeah sure. Just covered in Arasaka cyberware, driving around on Arasaka wheels, wearing a full on uniform for their security detail. Totally.” Panam quipped.

Takemura sighed.

“Anymore.” He amended, but the trio still eyed him sceptically, he felt it best he stayed in the car for now.

“Is she here?” He questioned, quickly surveying the camp to try and find her himself, a small kernel of hope planting in his chest as he looked through the small crowd that had gathered by them, hopeful to catch a glimpse of her but Saul’s hand reached out for him roughly, pulling him up to the open window by the front of his shirt with a resounding clunk.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at here but if you think for a second I’m just gonna let you-.”

“Saul. Stop. It’s cool.” Takemura’s head whipped over Saul’s shoulder to the source of the voice. His heart clenched painfully upon seeing V finally.

She was a vision. Almost like a beautiful mirage that had been conjured up by the desert heat and his possible dehydration but upon closer inspection he knew it had to be her. Her every freckle and scar burned into his memory, he would know here anywhere, even caked in soot and sand.

“V, come on, we don’t even know if he’s got people tailing him. We’ve already got our hands full with Militech for Christ’s sake, let’s not go adding to that pile.” Saul glared down, unconvinced by Takemura’s own words.

“I wouldn’t be saying this if I thought he was a danger. He’s not. Please just let me talk to him.” Saul groaned but he made the mistake of meeting her gaze and knew there was no telling her no so he released Goro and opened the door to the car.

“Out. Follow her.” Saul grumbled, hand still leaning against the top of the door, but before Takemura could step out funny a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Try and pull any funny shit though and I’ll drop your ass myself. No hesitation.” Takemura hadn’t realised just how big Saul was before but did not let that deter him.

“I will be sure to keep it in mind.” Goro responded in an uninterested tone, not really registering him, only focusing on V, before quickly making his way to her side. He reached out for her but she had already turned away and was walking up to a trailer, ascending a small flight of stairs before reaching the screen door. She threw him a look over her shoulder and motioned with her head for him to follow.

—————-

Once inside the privacy of the trailer V rounded on him, her eyes filled with confusion and anger.

“What the fuck, Goro?” She hissed. “Why are you here?”

He swallowed thickly, never realising that even through all his fighting to get back to her side, he had never even put his reasoning into words. And he had always had a defined reason for everything he did, it was something he was fucking known for. But now, standing here he couldn’t even begin to rationalise any of his actions, only that being here now already felt more right than anything in his life ever had. He opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish. She noticed his silence but was quickly distracted by his haggard appearance. Her eyes widened however at the lack of the dim lights on his cybernetics.

She reached for him cautiously, her fingertips brushing against the red outer wiring of his throat that no longer glowed with the hum of electronics and now simply shined in the dim light, essentially now just useless plastic.

“Your implants...” she whispered, tracing her finger down the line of the metal overlay of his neck and to the edge of his jaw, Goro watching her every motion with laser focus. “Why are they..?”

“They were deactivated when I failed to return a few days ago.” he wanted to reach for her, to touch her, that’s all he’s thought about day and night since she left him. “I was starting to think I was going to die out there before I found you.” He chuckled softly yet he inwardly savoured how close she was, her scent, near unchanged since their night together. The scent was now infused with a small background of motor oil now that clingged to her hands but it was strangely fitting for her.

“Why?” She whispered angrily at him, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

He raised his own hand now to weave with hers, holding it to his heart as he stared down at her with so much sureness, so much care and devotion that she felt unworthy.

“I defected, V.” Her eyes widened at him but still she said nothing. “I am... I can’t go back. If you only have a short time left, then... there isn’t anywhere else I want to be. I want to be here with you, I don’t want to miss a second of you ever again. I-.” He closed his eyes, terrified to see her reaction but was nearly sent spinning as she thrust herself without warning at him, her arms suddenly wrapping around his shoulders. His own arms instinctively wrapped around her, returning the embrace yet part of him still feared the worst.

Did she pity him? Is that why she said nothing? Was this her letting him down gently? She was always too kind for her own good.

“Goro... oh my god.” She breathed against him and he tightened his grip around her burying his face in her neck, breathing her in deeply. Feelings of peace, serenity, a meaning in his life he had been searching for ever since he escaped the slaughter house of Chiba-11. He thought that meaning was to serve those who had uplifted him from that barbaric place. But they didn’t save him. They used him.

It was this tiny trembling powerhouse of a woman that barrel assed her way into his life and irrevocably entangled herself with him, she had been the one who reignited his purpose. Opened his eyes and never lied to him. She had never left him behind. Only when she thought he was truly beyond her reach did she finally resign herself to letting him go.

But now, in the security of her arms, he knew he was never going to let that happen again.

“I can’t believe I finally found you...” he breathed, letting the feeling of her arms around him be engraved deeply in his heart, the lines on his face began slowly relaxing as he stroked the dip of her back gently.

V finally looked up at him and he swiped away some stray tears from her slightly flushed cheeks with a curled finger before caressing them in his hand fully. He stared down at her with an adoration she had never imagined him capable of, it felt to her as though she had never been truly seen before now and could only grasp his outstretched arm and reach for the back of his head pulling his face closer to hers when he finally moved forward, reuniting her lips with his in a passionate kiss. Her fingertips grazed over his jaw lightly, drawing a sigh from him and letting it meld into the kiss as he tried desperately to hold her closer.

She pulled back from him but his lips trailed after hers again, loathed to be parted from her just yet, but she placed two fingers on his lips to halt his pursuit and worry shot through him again.

“I think we should explain to the clan before Saul comes in here and decks you.” She chuckled, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek sweetly and he leaned into her touch, the sudden panic receeding, before smiling back at her and nodding. She made to move to the door, hand already pulling the handle open when his own grasped her free one and interlaced their fingers, grinning like a cat down at her.

“So they don’t shoot me on sight.” He joked, V could only huff lightly but her own smirk betrayed her feigned annoyance.

“Hush. Be nice.” She snipped.

They stepped out of the trailer and at the bottom of the stairs to the trailer was the holy Aldecaldos trinity themselves. Panam looked between the two and their interlock hands with mild confusion first before realisation dawned on her and she mouthed ‘that’s him?’ rather more obviously than she thought she had but never the less winked at friend.

Goro looked down at her curiously but V just shook her head.

“She’ll tell you herself at some point.” V whispered, leaving him far more confounded than before.

“So? What’s this about?” Saul stood in front of them now arms crossed but glaring heatedly at Takemura.

“Drop the tough guy act Saul come on.” She shoved him playfully but Saul only scowled deeper. “He defected.” Saul’s eyebrows rose in surprise for a moment but suspicion reaffirmed itself at the forefront of his mind once more.

“Bullshit.” Saul spat.

“I left Arasaka because I no longer believe in them.” He looked down at V’s hand in his and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I believe in V. And she has put her trust in you and your clan. I wish to stay with her. You know that... she does not have long.” She squeezed him

back at this, hearing the slight waiver in his voice at that but he continued. “I will work, I will do whatever is needed of me in order to stay by her side.” He bowed his head politely and Saul was at a loss for words, casting his gaze back to Panam and Mitch but only receiving a tired sigh and a shrug from Mitch and a rather heated scowl from Panam that said ‘if you don’t let the ninja stay I’m going go get an emp and blast an AV out of the sky again’, and Saul could only sigh tiredly. He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm in a gesture of defeat but his eyes spoke an understanding and no inherent objection to the arrangement.

“Alright. You work, like the rest of us. We all pull our own weight here and there’s plenty to do.” Panam fist pumped in the air and squealed with glee, making V laugh at her antics but Saul gave her an exhausted look before grinning devilishly. “ Since there’s another mouth to feed and person to arm, we’re gonna need to do a recount on inventory. Thanks for offering to do it Panam.” Saul rounded on his heel, making for his own tent as the orange pink swash of dusk settled over the desert. Mitch followed after while Panam gave her a quick pat on the shoulder before departing to her new hell, inventory.

“Look at you guys, just the picturesque happy couple living on the edge of the law, running with nomads, being all in love and shit. Warms my cold dead pixilated heart.” Johnny drawled as he leaned up against the trailer.

V chose to ignore him but grinned Takemura wrapped his free arm around her and rested his head atop hers as he rubbed loving circles into the small of her back, she sighed into his chest and grinned like a fool. Nothing was going to bring her mood down. Not raffen, not Johnny, not the broken to shit solar panels.

She groaned suddenly at the memory of her ever growing list of chores left.

“V?” He questioned, straining his neck down to see her.

“Fucking solar grid.” She hissed ruefully into his shoulder before pulling away.

“I’ve got some solar panels to fix and a carburettor to solder before the day is over.” She groaned, but Takemura squeezed her reassuringly.

“Lead the way.” He chuckled.

“You want to help?” She asked incredulously.

He brushed his hand through her soft chocolate brown coloured locks, twirling the tail ends around her shoulders between his thumb and index. He had a feeling his new unconscious obsession was going to be her hair.

“I’m going to have to learn aren’t I?” He chuckled. “And I have a feeling I’m going to like being your student. Lead on, sensei.”

She giggled before pulling away from him, hands still interlaced as she tugged him towards the solar panels on the far side of camp.

—————

“Welcome to solar grid maintenance 101, class is in session.” She announced.

Goro sat on a rock beside the van, next to the start of the solar grid that went from the back of the van to the further reaches of the edge of their camp, with a small group of four guarding the grid perimeter at all times. He noticed a few of them giving him wary or curious looks but did his best to ignore them. He was sure in time he would seem less threatening but he knew he would only achieve this through time, example and not relying only on shows of good faith. He leaned forward, arms resting against his knees, watching as she peeled back a flexible plastic covering over the front of the panel, uncovering a plated and wired grid he assumed is what absorbed power from the Sun.

“Ok, so. You need a fully wired and calibrated solar panel, batteries, a charge controller and an inverter.” She gestured to each item in front of her. “Once you have these it’s just a matter of following instructions. Then you gotta figure out what your output is gonna be, simply calculate watt hours by using each of the electric tools and machinery’s power ratings, multiplied by the time in hours it will be running...” He continued to listen to her intently, taking mental notes as she went on and was pleasantly surprised by how much she knew. The woman was practically a walking, talking encyclopaedia for off grid living.

He imagined she had learned this with her original nomad clan.

“And... vóila!” The grid hummed to life, the electrical tickering and slight glow from the panels confirmed this. “And tomorrow you’re gonna help me dismantle, clean and stow them.” She slowly rose from her kneeling position but wobbled a bit, Takemura’s lightning fast reflexes kicked into action and he reached out to stabilise her. She gave him a sheepish yet thankful smile.

“Are you-?”

“Just light headed, I stood up to fast.” His levelled gaze cut through her, narrowed eyes studying her intently. “And we’ve been sitting in the sun for an hour. I’d say I could go for something to eat though. Haven’t had anything since last night come to think of it.” She pulled away, attempting to move away from the subject of her health as quickly as she could, but her hand stayed resting open palmed against his chest as she stared almost through him. She still couldn’t believe he was here. Standing next to her in the flesh. She couldn’t even really fathom eating right now but she knew she had to at least try to keep her strength up. But fucking damn. Of all the ways this day was going to go, this was certainly not one of them, not that she was complaining.

His finger captured her chin and tilted her gaze to his, pulling her from her thoughts as if he could sense her inner turmoil.

“What is the expression, ‘I am here for the...’ ah.” He looked up to think an moment as if the phrase was written in the sky before seemingly finding it among the clouds and looking back down at her, grinning from ear to ear. “‘I am... ‘In this for the long haul’, as you say.” She snorted a laugh at him letting her head fall foreword against him as he pulled her further into his embrace. “So stop looking at me as if I’m going to suddenly disappear.” Her fingers squeezed his in response and she looked up resting her chin on his shoulder now.

“Promise?” She whispered, making his chest rumble in laughter.

“Yakusoku.” He affirmed before kissing her forehead loving.

————————————

They had eaten their fill of some synth beef chilli at the camps mess tent and Goro wasn’t about to disclose how much he had actually enjoyed the hot meal. Wandering around in the desert for a week he had been living off of whatever least expired protein bars and soda cans he could find, which had been almost as awful as the scop burgers and noodles in night city, but at least they had been some way warm.

They had made their way to V’s tent which was set up next to her Thorton and some work benches and a trailer with two bikes standing in it. He recognise one to be her beloved Arch and the other a gold and silver heavy terrain 700cc bike with the clans name spray painted boldly along the side of it.

“Here we are. Home sweet home I guess. For now.” She sighed, flopping down into her large sleeping cot with a heavy plop. Takemura stood awkwardly for a moment before fastening the entrance flap closed. There was a fold up chair and two electric lamps illuminating the small space. He suddenly felt out of place but V was quick to pick up on his uncharacteristic fidgeting, giving him an inquisitive glance.

“Cot’s a bit small but we can manage for tonight. Or there’s another cot in storage we can go and-.” Takemura shook his head.

“We can manage.” He grinned sheepishly and she giggled at him, taking a seat on the edge of the cot, patting the spot next to her as an invitation to join her. He took two long strides and he was at her side once again, his hand snaking around her waist as he leaned his head gently on her shoulder. Leaning into him, V interlaced their free hands together, marvelling at how well they fit together.

“You must be exhausted.” She sighed, extending her hand to his face where she swiped away a errant few strands of silver hair that escaped his otherwise well kept topknot, her cool fingers a welcome sensation against his forehead.

“Not really.” He stifled a yawn and she looked up at him pointedly, his own gaze eluding her.

“Evidently.” She chuckled, but a sudden flash of inspiration hit her and she grinned up at him.

“What are you doing?” He asked warily as she began to slink herself around to kneel in front of him, her hands running up and down his thighs in a firm yet teasing trail.

“Well we do have a lot to do in the morning and you require a good nights sleep for what’s coming.” He eyed her suspiciously but couldn’t help the small grin threatening to tug at the corner of his lips. “Couldn’t possibly let you lie awake all night and screw yourself over tomorrow.” She ran her hand over the growing bulge at the apex of his legs, which he opened wider as she settled between them.

“V...” he breathed his head beginning to loll back and eyes flutter closed, his breath hitching she she unzipped him and pulled him of the confines of his suit pants, his member springing free, already fully hard. She gave him some light pumps, enclosing her fist around as much of him as she could. He wasn’t a monster in size, but impressive.

“Speaking of impressive cocks.” Johnny’s voice pierced her mind and she wanted to scream. “Can we leave mine out of this. Please, if yourself gonna fuck the corpo grandpa just take a fucking omega blocker so I don’t have to as well.” She shook her head and sighed, pulling away from Goro.

His eyes fluttered open.

“Is something wrong?” He breathed.

“Just gotta take something before I forget.” She smiled back at him reassuringly before popping two of the red pills.

She turned back to him and something about seeing him sitting there, disheveled clothes, cock standing to attention, lips parted and panting lightly in anticipation, sent a rush of some indescribable feeling through her system. He watched her hungrily but patient in his pining, she couldn’t help the heat between her own legs beginning to rise. She locked their gaze, lips still curved into her signature teasing grin and she began to pull off her tank top painfully slowly, dragging it up to her chest. He watched her relieve her body of the sweat and dirt stained cloth throwing it over her head and groaned lowly when he saw she wasn’t wearing anything underneath save for her tattooed flesh. Lotus flowers bloomed colourfully at her shoulders, and just between her pert little breasts. He traced them with his eyes and felt his body tense in suspense as she saunter toward him, a sultry sway in her hips saying she knew exactly what she was doing to him. She sank down to her knees again before him, her fingers wrapping around his still hard manhood making him hiss at the contact before a strangled gasp tore from his throat as she resumed pumping him again. He reached out his hand to touch her but she slapped him away lightly.

“Ah, ah, ah.” She wagged her finger tauntingly at him, then running them down his chest back down to curl back around his member, giving him a tug that made him groan once more. “Look. Don’t touch.” She then began to lower her lips to him, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as she encased him in her warm pink lips, her devilish tongue flicking along the sensitive underside of his cock. He moaned louder as she moved against him but forced his hand over his mouth to stifle himself. They weren’t alone out here so he had to remember to control his vocalisations but she was not making it easy.

He leaned back further down on his elbows watching her intently through hooded eyes as she devoured him, her mouth sinking down slowly, taking him all the way to the hilt letting him hit the back of her throat with an audible gag that made him whine in need then gliding back up, dragging her lips back to the tip, letting her tongue swirl around him a few times before swallowing him once again. He struggled against his urge to fist his hands into her hair as she kept up her ministrations, fearing she’d stop what she was doing, because what she was doing was so fucking good he thought he was going to die if she didn’t finish.

“V... please I’m going to....” he gasped, one hand stretched out behind him as he bit the knuckle of his other hand to surpress his cries.

He felt her chuckle against him, his end so close he could practically taste it as she continued to bob energetically against him. A few more pumps and he had to bite his knuckle so hard he drew blood so as not to roar from the force of his climax, blowing his load in her mouth which she swallowed it readily. He swore he saw stars for a moment, a blinding light show all of his own as he rode the high for as long as he could until he fell back against the cot, attempting to catch his breath as V released him from her mouth with a faint pop.

She pulled herself up and crawled over him, resting her chin against his chest that now rose and fell erratically from his ragged breathing, waiting there patiently for it to even. He lifted his head to look at her, small beads of sweat clinging to his forehead but a stupidly pleased grin now plastered his face as he lifted a hand to caress her cheek and stroked her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb tenderly. He held her there for a moment, unsure if it was the aftermath of his climax or the low lighting of the tent, but to him, right now in all her dishevelment, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld. He dragged her up to him, lips meeting hers at last, tasting her felt like home, regardless of the lingering taste of himself on her lips. Goro pulled her closer to deepen the kiss before pulling away to gaze at her agin. She was the one panting now, her full pink lips, that had only a few moments been driving him to near insanity were parting enough for him so see her devilishly nimble tongue and the flush dusting her cheeks was starting to do things he didn’t know could be done, his member already twitching to life again, slowly but surely.

“You feeling more relaxed then?” Her laugh, like a tinkling bell, brought his attention back into the room and he could only smirk down at her slyly.

“Partially.” He lifted himself up fully wrapping his arms around her then flipping them so she was trapped underneath him. “But I’m afraid I’m more awake now than I was before.” He whispered, lowering his lips to suckled at her collarbone where he began to trail a searing line of bites and kisses down her chest, stopping to tease her nipples as he lavished them thoroughly, leaving her shivering and gasping uncontrollably beneath him. “The opposite of the desired effect I think.” He chuckled lowly, lifting his hand to her mouth and clamping firmly over it to quieten her mewls while he began to drag the fingers of his other hand up to the bottom half of her netrunner jumpsuit. Untying the sleeves he pulled the zipper further down to the end. It reached just above her mound, a few more inches on the zip and he’d have been able to access her. Shame, he though but immediately tugged the skintight nano plastic material down over her hips, her purple thong coming with it. He didn’t pull it all the way down, allowing the material to bunch at her knees before pulling back, letting both her legs stretch up to rest against his shoulder as he stared down at her, a shit eating grin breaking over his lips as he soaked in the sight of her, trapped in his web. She huffed at him in mild displeasure at the loss of control but her eyes widened when she felt his fingers trace her slit softly. His arm curled around her legs, anchoring them against him as he continued to tease her.

“What are you-?” He silenced her with two fingers plunging inside her, making her arch her back as she barely managed to stifle a moan. He thrust his fingers into her wetness again and again, all while his gaze fixed on her face, contorted by pleasure as he took delight in her every twitch and convulsion.

He let another finger enter her, curling them, tickling a sensitive collection of nerves inside her. Her juices dripped down his hand, his attention switching down to where his fingers pumped relentlessly and he felt himself moan at the sight of her absolutely soaking his hand. He felt his cock strain against her thigh but he ignored his growing need. He had work to do. She nearly cried out when he stopped, her eyes finally fluttered open to see him gazing down at her, smirking triumphantly above her.

“Hey.” She pouted, wiggling against him only making him chuckle quietly.

He pulled her legs free finally, tossing the jumpsuit to the far corner of the tent but trailing his hands from the underside of her thighs, to the under side of her ankles, yanking up sharply which pulled her further down the cot so her ass now rested on his lap. Her ground himself against her, his free member brushing against her slit as he draped each of her legs against either shoulder. He leaned foreword her legs stretching to rest nearly by her ears with how flexible she was. Without warning he entered her, both of them gasping quietly. He filled her so completely, V let the feeling wash over her until he began moving at an achingly slow pace. He found purchase at the head of the cot, using it to drive himself harder and harder into her. Reaching up she caressed his head in her hands, his eyes closing at the contact, savouring it, then opening again to see her.

His breath hitched in his throat, not just at the majesty of her wild curls fanned out and framing her so perfectly. Not at her being stretched and splayed out for him, like a cover pin up they used to sneak into the army barracks, back when he did foolish brazen things like that, no. The trust in her eyes. She was letting him take control, letting him take her, however he wanted. She wasn’t scanning the room for the nearest viable exit like she did in every room or so far away in her mind he wondered if she could even hear him above the noise of the engram erasing her. She was right here, willing and ready for him. He wasn’t going to last long, not after already climaxing earlier but he refused to leave her hanging, letting his thumb roll her clit firmly, over and over. He leaned forward to swallow her cries as she came undone beneath him, his own release coming not to far behind her.

He leaned back, letting her legs down on either side of his hips, but stayed connect with her. He leaned back into her, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her nose then her lips, making her smile sleepily against him.

“You’re still in your clothes.” She taunted against his shoulder as he chuckled.

“It’s hard to think about anything clearly with you around.” He mumbled against her neck.

“Hey, don’t you dare fall asleep on me dickhead.” She snorted, poking him enough to make him groan then move to the side, allowing her to stand up from the cot. She walked over to a duffel bag where she pulled a loose white shirt from and threw it on. The fabric reached her knees and he scoffed at how small she was.

“Oi, no sand in my bed, get those dusters off.” She ordered and he sighed, pulling himself from his bliss to shed his coat and other garments leaving him only in his boxers. He fell back into the cot heavily, rubbing his eyes as a yawn escaped his lips. She rejoined him, crawling and moulding herself into his side while his arms immediately snaked around her as he buried her face into the crook of her neck, V stroking his hair soothingly.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he went to sleep without knowing where he was going to be tomorrow and not caring in the slightest.

#goro takemura #cyberpunk 2077 #takemura x v #goro takemura x v #goro x v #takemura goro x v #takemura goro #the sun #search for the sun

48 notes · View notes

greenroseunderglass · 3 years ago

Text

After Omega : Fanfic - Star Trek TOS (Gen)

@sicktember

Prompt #4 Headache

by: greenroseunderglass (1st post to tumblr, I know I'm messing up every way possible.)

Notes: The TOS episode "Omega Glory" is literally one long recipe for a headache for Kirk. Spock was caught in the nimbus of a phaser set to kill in this episode.

Numbly, Jim tried to orient himself among the crush and chaos that was the excited Yangs. Spock. He was trying to keep an eye on Spock, who had admitted to being weak, which probably meant he was barely keeping his feet under him through some feat of Vulcan endurance. Jim’s vision was swimming a bit in the torch-flashing darkness, and he was so damn tired, but he eventually homed in on the red-shirted security guards, and found McCoy, very unhappy, at Spock’s side.

The doctor was not supporting Spock, but he clearly wanted to be. Spock stood at-ease, clearly rebuffing any such attempt. So McCoy was scanning the crowd, and when his eyes hit Jim he lunged forward and grabbed his arm, dragging him forward to stand the appropriate distance from Spock for a beam up. The sudden jerk brought the taste of bile up behind Jim’s teeth. Bones was glaring hard enough that it made Jim a little more dizzy to try to meet his eyes, so he stopped trying to and looked at Spock. Whose at-ease was wavering in its own wind.

“I suppose we can beam up now?” McCoy demanded.

Unperturbed, Spock spoke into his communicator in a steady but very quiet voice, “Three to beam up, Mr. Scott.”

Jim was moving the second the transporter let go, and caught Spock, who went at the knees the moment the transporter beam released him. Kirk had him before his body could hit the ground -- he’d known the usually-inconsequential disorientation of the transporter was going to get Spock, he’d just been able to tell. McCoy was swearing, and his scanner was humming.

So Jim had him under the elbows, crushed against his side, and he only had a moment to dislike how limp Spock had gone before the awful realization hit him that his own balance and coordination was not sufficient to maintain the two of them until the waiting medical team swimming into focus in the too-bright lights of the room could climb on the platform.

Kirk clenched his teeth and swallowed. He had been up for two straight days and nights, but he was not going to drop Spock, and he was not going to throw up in the middle of the transporter room. He was trying to get the nausea forced back enough to tell the corpsmen to hurry up and get Spock when McCoy took Spock’s other side and more than half his weight, and gestured his subordinates forward.

They relieved Jim of the Vulcan’s weight, which he needed, and of the contact, which left a gnawing worry behind it, and put Spock on the anti-grav stretcher they had waiting. One of them handed McCoy a small med-kit which he instantly opened. He read off the hypos, and administered them directly to his patient.

Clearly McCoy had called ahead. Why had Spock waited that long for him to beam up?

It was a little worrying that Spock had let himself be handled by strange corpsmen -- these were new crew, on board less than a month -- and put on the stretcher without complaint, silent and pale and submitting to McCoy’s attentions with none of their usual argument. Jim blew out a slow breath and closed his eyes, then breathed in a deep one as he raised his head and eventually reopened them. Reset. He trusted Bones, and Bones had said authoritatively that Spock would live. There was a lot left to do with—

“Doctor,” Spock had rallied enough to come up on his elbows and look at Kirk, his gaze assessing. He interrupted the doctor in a quiet but very firm voice. Definitely coherent. “You are aware that the Captain has had several trauma-induced periods of unconsciousness during this mission, but you are unaware of the most severe. To my certain knowledge, he has been unconscious due to two severe traumatic blows for a cumulative nine hours and eighteen minutes since our beam down.”

Spock wasn’t announcing it to the room, just to McCoy, but it was bad enough because Bones stopped dead and raised his head. “Captain, you are required in Sickbay in twenty minutes.”

A biting reply wanted to come out – he was too tired to be bossed about by his CMO exercising his prerogatives – but Jim made himself stop. The truth was, his head was a pulsing raw pain he’d been able to manage only by lifting above it – literally dissociating from his own body a bit to cope. He had blood coming out of one ear, his vision was getting worse, and as his adrenaline dropped he was starting to get his own crosswind himself. He was stubborn, and he had a thousand things to do, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Yes, Doctor.”

McCoy, following the stretcher out, stopped to double-blink at him, then looked him over again. “Do you need transport?”

“No, Doctor.” The guards and Scotty and the transporter chief were all listening to them, now, so Jim walked to the door. Oh, yeah. He was getting his own wind and McCoy noticed, of course, caught Jim’s arm to balance the wavering, and started to demand Kirk come with him right then.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes, on one condition,” Jim said quietly as he followed McCoy out into the hall. “I know you have some kind of anti-emetic in there, you always do when you’re treating Spock for anything serious. Give me.”

“Yeah?” McCoy asked, trying to catch his eyes, no doubt to evaluate his pupils, but Kirk wasn’t having it. Not quite yet. The doctor's voice was on the gentle side, though, which was immediately soothing, and he opened his med-kit. ”Migraine?”

Jim wished he could say yes, but it wasn’t a good day for blatant lies. “No. Spock’s right. I got my bell rung twice, hard-“

“As opposed to the half-dozen times it was lightly rung?” the doctor asked sharply. “I’m not blind, you know-“

Speaking slowly, Jim continued, “But I’ll be all right for a few more minutes, and then you can do whatever you want.”

“You’re just afraid you’ll get sick all over the Bridge? I’d bet on the turbolift, that upward and lateral motion at once—“

Kirk felt sweat on his upper lip, and he swallowed, hard. McCoy looked a bit abashed and gave him the shot in the arm, and within a few seconds Jim’s stomach had returned to the normal position. He coughed a little and swallowed, then tried out a smile. “You’d be amazed how much that helps. I –“

“Will be in Sickbay in twenty minutes, Captain,” McCoy growled, snapped his med-kit closed and took off after his patient. Instinct urged Kirk to go after them, but duty sent him in the other direction.

It was like water dripping away. Onto him. Away from him. A little more impairment. A little less adrenaline. Jim Kirk put one foot in front of the other, and he smiled when he needed to, and he was able to think well enough to handle what had to be handled and know when something had to be put off for a more coherent day. The lights got brighter, though. Drip. And blurrier. Drip. And god it hurt to focus his eyes. Drip. He prepared a bare bones report for the Admiralty, because that couldn’t wait, and every sound got louder. Drip, drip. The world got foggier, and his energy to navigate through it was lessened.

He finally turned, then waited as the Bridge kept turning for a moment before settling down before his eyes. “Mr. Sulu. You have the conn,” he said, and headed for the turbolift. His crosswind was getting more stormfront than gentle breeze – he knew he was swaying on his feet, didn’t that count for something? “If I’m needed you can reach me in Sickbay. Mr. Spock is also in Sickbay. Unless he is needed to keep the galaxy or the ship from blowing up, please forget you can reach him there.”

“Aye, Captain,” came from several people, but then quietly, from Uhura alone, “Could one of us escort you to Sickbay, sir?”

Kirk forced himself to stop swaying, forced a smile to his lips. “No, but thank you, Lieutenant.”

The drop of the turbolift had him laying back against the wall, and his hands over his eyes were trying to push the pain back away. Water dripping everywhere, he was in a rainstorm and it was washing away the world and his energy and his ability to control himself. His head had reached the white-out level, the pain hitting places his consciousness wasn't willing to go with it. One last thing, though.

He walked into Sickbay to see Dr. M’Benga arguing with Dr. McCoy, gentle to his irritation. “You’ve been up for two days, Leonard. Either go to your quarters or go sleep in your office, but you are not fit for regular duty right now.” They’d both worked under worse conditions for crisis duty.

“Just give me a few more minutes, Geoff. I’m not being stubborn. I want a shower and my bed, but—there he is!” He turned from his fellow doctor to glare at Kirk.

“Twenty minutes does not mean forty-five, Captain, sir.”

Kirk made one of his ‘yeah, yeah, whatever’ dismissive gestures and closed his eyes in a brief headshake. “How is Spock?”

McCoy frowned at him as he moved toward him with a scanner in one hand and a tricorder in the other. “In a healing trance. He’ll be fine in a few days, Jim. We were able to treat the radiation poisoning and the rest he can handle himself.”

Jim’s head went down with a huff of a sigh, but he batted at McCoy’s arm when the doctor raised it with the scanner, and McCoy started to growl at him, but Jim made his little dismissive-gesture-closed-eyes-headshake thing he did again. He spoke very evenly. “No. Bones. I think I could use that… transport now.”

He didn’t go at the knees, he just dropped, and it was all McCoy and a lunging M’Benga could do to keep his limp body from bouncing off the floor.

He got a bed beside Spock's for three days. McCoy's blood pressure was not very appreciative of their stay.

End

#Sicktember #Headache #Star Trek #Fanfiction #Sicktember2021

4 notes · View notes

a-box-of-scraps · 4 years ago

Text

IronDad LGBTQ+ Fic Recs

Happy Pride Month everyone! I hadn’t planned on making this (hence the belated posting), but with everything that’s been going on, I just really needed to put something positive into the world. I tried to link all the author tumblrs I could find, but please let me know if I missed anyone!

1-5k Words

cut from his strings by macabre (trans Peter)

In which Peter’s dysphoria makes eating easier said than done. Ouch ouch ouch. My poor heart. Peter’s battle to find peace in his own skin hurts, but in an unapologetic and truthful way. Seeing Tony help him with recovery makes the pain worth it.

Dudes in Distress by @boww-tiez (gay Peter)

In which Peter’s coming out doesn’t exactly go to plan; cue Tony making it better. Peter’s so adorable in this! His nervousness about telling Tony he’s gay and regret over some of his past experiences is really well written. Brilliant relationship dynamic. Ten out of ten for fluffiness.

general relativity by macabre (Peter likes boys)

In which Tony worries about what big secret his adopted son could be trying so hard to keep from him. Another beautifully written fic from macabre, who always portrays Peter and Tony’s relationship with genuine emotional depth. This is one of those go-to fics I reread whenever I’m feeling down.

no cops at pride, just spiderman by @tempestaurora (bi Peter and bi Tony)

In which Peter convinces Tony to attend Pride parade with him. This one has so many cute moments (it’s officially canon that Peter’s crushing on Bucky), but it’s also very touching when Tony talks about his experiences being in the LGBT community during the 1980s and 90s. Respect to authors who can incorporate social activism into their writing so smoothly.

Of Gods and Crushes by @tstarkapologist (bi Peter)

In which Peter has a not-so-secret crush on Thor. I was grinning like a loon the entire way through this. Tony’s the perfect combination of supportive and teasing—he’s just nailing the Embarrassing Dad (tm) role that he was born to play. (And really, who doesn’t have a crush Thor?)

Peter Parker’s Top Surgery Fund by @vivilevone (trans Peter)

In which there’s a bakesale, certain revelations are had, and an ‘anonymous’ donation is made to GoFundMe. Shout-out to Tony who’s so clueless but tries so hard. Funny and cute with just a dash of angst thrown in; hits the spot. Featuring Number One Bestie Ned and Science Bro Bruce.

Use Somebody (Someone Like You) by @rosalinesbenvolio (trans Peter)

In which Peter’s not very good at coming out despite his best efforts. What a cutie (both Peter and this fic)! A heartfelt, comedic, altogether delightful read. Peter and Tony’s relationship is genuinely sweet. Kudos to Michelle for being that best friend everyone needs.

5-15k Words

5 Times Peter Acted Like A Teenager And The 1 Time He Had To Be An Adult by @losingmymindtonight (Peter likes boys)

In which Peter misses curfew, falls in love, gets his heart broken, and might need a few pep talks from his dad along the way. Did I mention there’s a kidnapping? Tony is *chef’s kiss* in this, especially as he helps Peter navigate through his first real breakup by providing much comfort and cuddles and encouragement. Dramatic!Teenager!Peter is my spirit animal.

Ace!Peter series by @peter-parkerson (biromantic ace Peter)

In which sometimes kids can be jerks, but luckily Peter has people there to remind him he’s not in any way broken. Sweet and soft and lovely. Featuring Tony as the ally parent every queer kid deserves and Ned as the caring, understanding, altogether wonderful boyfriend who knows there’s more to relationships than just sex.

Asexual!Peter series by @parkrstark (biromantic ace Peter and bi Tony)

In which Peter uses indecipherable metaphors, Tony becomes increasingly confused, and May’s the saint who puts up with them both. Oof. My poor, poor heart. I really just want to wrap Peter in a hug and tell him everything’s going to be okay, then buy him an ace flag cape and drag him to Pride March. Luckily Tony’s there to do all that for me.

June by @peterparkrr (gay Peter and bi Tony)

In which Tony buys a parenting book and (not so successfully) tries to get Peter to come out. I absolutely love how Tony is written in this! Even though he might still be getting the hang of this parenting thing, you can tell how deeply he cares about Peter and just wants what’s best for him. Only criticism is that it makes my face hurt from smiling so widely; the fluffiness and humor is just too good!

15-25k Words

Fragile and Composed by @theoceanismyinkwell I’m sorry the @ isn’t working it keeps saying “no blogs found” (gay Peter and bi Tony)

In which Steve gives some advice, Peter confronts some bullies, and Tony is there to deal with the fallout. Guh. This fic. Everything TheOceanIsMyInkwell writes gives me *emotions* and I love it. I love the tension between Tony and Steve as they try to move forward after Civil War. I love Peter standing up for himself and his friends. I love Tony being protective, and trying to do better for Peter when he realizes he’s missed the mark. Just gorgeous in every way.

Gay Disaster Peter Parker series by Iwillseduceyouwithmyweirdness (is it redundant to say gay Peter?)

In which, as the title suggests, Peter Parker is a gay disaster. Every work in this series does an amazing job depicting some of the very real struggles queer teens often face (particularly self-harm/mental health issues and bullying). It’s raw and painful, but at the same time offers so much hope that recovery is possible. Tony’s love and support and care for Peter makes my heart happy.

i never promised you your dream boy series by @ftmpeter (gay/trans Peter)

In which even when it feels like the universe is against him, Peter’s family and friends will always have his back. This series is wonderful in so many aspects, but the thing that really shines through for me is Tony’s characterization. He fumbles once in a while, and might not have a ton of background knowledge about LGBTQ+ issues, but he does his absolute best to learn and help Peter through day to day challenges of being trans. Perfect ally.

Lightning in a Bottle by @groo-ock (Peter likes boys)

In which Spider-Man and the Human Torch are dating, but Peter Parker and Johnny Storm definitely, definitely aren’t. Definitely not. Gruoch’s fics are always an absolute joy to read, and this one is no different. Even if you’re not a Fantastic Four fan, please give it a chance, especially if you need something fun and lighthearted right now; the humor is terrific! Exasperated Tony is icing on the cake. This poor man puts up with so many shenanigans...

Project Pride by TheSleepingOwl (gay Peter)

In which Peter doesn’t know that Tony knows he’s gay, and Tony’s an over the top helicopter dad who’s just trying his best. This one deals with some pretty heavy stuff, including Peter’s lasting trauma from being sexually abused when he was younger, but the author handles it all with dignity and respect and does it justice. A lot of parts made me laugh. Other parts had me tearing up. Other parts had me full-out sobbing. An incredible read and instant favorite.

#my posts #fic rec list

146 notes · View notes

bubonickitten · 4 years ago

Link

Summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Previous chapter: AO3 // tumblr

Chapter 15 full text & content warnings below the cut.

CWs for Chapter 15: mentions of Buried-related trauma (claustrophobia, etc.); a somewhat lengthy discussion of recurrent suicidal ideation (including some informal safety planning); panic/anxiety symptoms; mild self-harm (as a stim to distract from anxiety/intrusive thoughts); swears; mentions of starvation & restrictive behaviors re: Jon’s statement dependence (also some internalized ableism re: the substance dependence/addiction parallels); internalized victim blaming; post-traumatic stress reactions/flashbacks re: Jonah-typical awfulness. SPOILERS through Season 5.

Also, apologies in advance, but ADHD!Jon Went Off for several paragraphs at one point in this chapter and I (and by extension Martin) just let him run with it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Chapter 15: What Comes After

Jon sits on the floor with his back to the wall, waiting as Basira helps Daisy wash away nearly eight months of grime. Through the closed door and underneath the rapid drumbeat of water, he can make out a steady stream of murmured conversation, punctuated by the occasional sob or bitten-back groan of pain. The words are indistinct, but Jon doesn’t need to Know what is being said to guess the gist of it.

Eventually, the shower turns off. It takes several more minutes before the door opens. Even though Jon knows what to expect, he has to suppress a sympathetic grimace when he lays eyes on Daisy.

She sits hunched forward on the closed toilet lid, damp hair hanging limp around her face and dripping onto the tile floor. There is a sickly pallor to her skin, mottled with bruising and scrubbed-raw patches of pink. The clothes she’s wearing are her own – Basira never could bring herself to discard her things – but they no longer fit. Her shirt practically drowns her emaciated frame now, hanging loose off of one shoulder and exposing the hollows of her collarbone. The dark shadows under her puffy, bloodshot eyes might just rival Jon’s.

“Better?” Jon gives her a weak half-smile.

“Cleaner,” Daisy says hoarsely, staring listlessly at the floor.

“Your turn,” Basira says, meeting Jon’s eyes and jerking her head back towards the shower. “Left the shower stool in there for you. Clean clothes are on the counter.”

“Thanks,” Jon says, but he doesn't move. Part of his brain is telling him to stand; another, more reasonable part is just now realizing that sitting on the floor in the first place was probably a bad idea.

“Do you, uh – need help?”

“No,” Jon says hurriedly, “that – won’t be necessary.”

“No, I wasn’t suggesting –” Basira sighs, flustered. “I just meant that maybe you want to wait until Georgie gets here?”

Now that the adrenaline is fading, Jon’s skin is crawling with every moment the Buried still clings to him. Every slight movement sends loose dirt raining down onto the floor. He needs a shower.

“If you could just help me stand up, I should be able to handle the rest.”

Basira gives a curt nod, quickly recovering from the awkward moment, and hauls him to his feet. Steadying himself against the wall with one hand, he tests putting weight on his bad leg.

“Daisy still needs to see a doctor, and –” Basira frowns, watching Jon wince as he takes a step forward. “Are you sure you’ll be alright? You’re not going to – pass out and drown in two inches of water, are you?”

It wouldn’t kill me, Jon tries to say, wry and only half-joking.

“Not enough to kill me outright,” he says instead. When he feels that familiar static-laden filter slide into place in his mind, he freezes. Before the fear can properly move in, though, Basira’s voice cuts through his stirring panic.

“You’re alright, Jon,” she says, authoritative but without heat. “Just breathe through it, remember?”

Jon nods distractedly, shutting his eyes and focusing on his own breathing. It takes a minute, but the pressure eventually eases enough for him to hear himself think again.

“Are you okay?” Daisy asks, brow furrowed.

“Yes. Sorry.” Just those two simple words are a struggle to vocalize, but once he manages, the rest of the weight lifts from his thoughts. He glances at Basira. “I’m sorry, it just – slipped out, and –”

“It’s fine.” Basira looks him up and down. “I think maybe you should wait for Georgie, though.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s just my leg, and I’m used to dealing with that on my own.”

“I thought you injured your ribs.”

“Archivist,” he says with a shrug – a mistake, he realizes a moment too late, as it disturbs his injuries. He just barely manages to avoid flinching. “I heal quickly.”

The truth is, his ribs are unlikely to fully heal until he gets a statement in him. In fact, the last time, his weakness only started to fade after he’d taken a live statement. He’d rather not dwell on that right now, though.

“Hm.” Basira fixes him with a skeptical look.

“I’ll be alright, I promise. You should see to Daisy.”

“No,” Daisy says. Both Basira and Jon glance over at her. A noticeable full-body shiver sweeps over her, and Basira grabs a dry towel from the small stack on the counter.

“You need professional medical attention,” Basira says firmly, wrapping the towel around Daisy and adjusting it to cover her bare arms. “I’m taking you to A&E.”

Daisy ignores her, raising her head to look at Jon instead.

“I was thinking I could – stay, if you want?” She casts her eyes down again and her voice drops to a low murmur. “It’s just – the shower, it’s – a tight space, and – and it might…”

Jon bites the inside of his cheek. It’s true: the shower stall is tiny. Claustrophobic. The room itself is small and poorly ventilated; steam builds up within a minute of the shower being turned on, turning the air thick and stifling with humidity. The single dim light in the ceiling has a tendency to flicker; the bulb has been known to come loose from time to time, plunging the area into near-darkness.

It isn’t the Buried, but there’s enough here to bring the Coffin to mind on a bad day – and especially right now, less than two hours out of the place.

The last time, Daisy never could manage to use the shower without someone else in the room to keep her company. When Basira was unavailable, she would turn to Jon. Eventually, he got comfortable with her returning the favor. It became a routine, but…

“I’ll be okay,” he says again. Unconvincingly, judging from the way Daisy’s eyes narrow at him.

“Do you really want to be alone right now?”

“I…”

No, I don’t. I really, really don’t.

“Look, I’m not trying to make it – weird,” Daisy continues, fiddling with one corner of her towel. “It’s not like I’ll see you through the curtain. I just thought – maybe you could use some company? Don’t say ‘I’m fine,’” she says as he opens his mouth to respond. “Just because you can deal with it alone doesn’t mean you should have to.”

“Well, yes, but –”

“Do you not want me here? Because if you really want me to leave, I will, but –”

“No, I wouldn’t mind the company, honestly, but –”

“Then I’ll stay.” She looks at Basira, as if daring her to object.

Last time, she did object, Jon remembers. Now, though… Basira simply sighs.

“Fine. But,” she adds emphatically, giving Daisy a severe look, “I’m taking you to A&E as soon as Georgie gets here, and you don’t get to argue.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Daisy says with a tired grin.

“Liar,” Basira says, shaking her head with a fond, amused sort of resignation. “I’ll be just outside if you need me.”

As Basira leaves, Jon catches Daisy’s eye.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” Daisy says at the exact same time. “For not leaving me.”

Their tentative, exhausted smiles are mirror images of one another as understanding passes between them.

Someone upstairs has a statement.

The Archivist Knew the moment she mounted the steps to the Institute. She was marked by the Spiral, the Hunt, and the Lonely in quick succession, but the Archivist can only barely make out the edges of the story: how she was pursued through a nonsensical, constantly-shifting maze of alleyways by a hulking thing that always stayed one step behind, never letting her escape but never deigning to actually catch her.

There was no one in that place to hear her screams. Now, all she wants is to be heard.

The Archivist can give that to her. It would be so easy, so right. She came to the Magnus Institute of her own volition, didn’t she? She’s here to give her statement. The Archivist can take it from her and preserve her voice and relive her story for the rest of –

Jon twists his fingers in his hair and pulls until it hurts.

“You need to sit down,” Georgie says for the third time in as many minutes.

“Just keeping warm.”

It’s not necessarily a lie. The perpetual damp chill of the tunnels seeps into Jon’s bones in spite of his three layers of clothing and Georgie’s scarf wrapped twice around his neck. Beyond that, though, fevered movement is the only thing keeping him from falling to pieces. If he stops or slows, it will become all the more obvious how badly he’s trembling and all the more difficult to ignore the hunger gnawing away at him.

“You’re not even pacing, you’re just – limping.” When he doesn’t reply, Georgie reaches out and touches his shoulder. “Sit. We have some time before Martin gets here.”

With a sigh, Jon finally capitulates, sinking into the nearest chair. Immediately, he starts to jiggle one leg, fingers tapping restlessly on his knees.

“Talk to me, Jon,” Georgie says, taking a seat opposite him. “What’s on your mind?”

“I… I don’t know. It’s – a lot, and…”

He trails off, unsettled at the sound of his own voice, shaking almost as badly as the rest of him. His mouth has gone too dry to comfortably swallow, and every passing thought feels blurry around the edges, too ephemeral to translate into the spoken word. The only thing coming through loud and clear is the need and the knowledge that he has the means to sate it, if he would only embrace it.

There are no words to describe the experience, nor does he wish to verbalize it in the first place. As for the rest of it…

“Of course now I can talk,” he says with a weak laugh, “I suddenly don’t know what to say.”

“Take your time.”

Jon hunches forward, allowing himself to rock back and forth in slight movements as he tries to gather his thoughts.

“I’m –” Hungry. Terrified. Exhausted. Weak. Hungry, craving, needing, wanting – “At a loss.”

“About why you can talk again?”

Yes. Sure. He can go with that. It isn’t a lie, and it feels like a safer topic than all the rest.

“In part. I don’t understand why I have my voice back, or what that means, and of course my mind is immediately going to the worst-case explanations, and” – now he’s started, he rapidly gains momentum, his speech growing pressured and frantic – “I should just be grateful that I can use my own words again, but I can’t just let it go, because when have I ever been able to just let something go, and –” He tugs on a lock of hair again, letting out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Unsurprisingly, I hate not knowing.”

“Well… how about starting with that? Give me some theories. Might help to get them out of your head for a minute.”

“Most of it comes down to… I don’t know – why now, I suppose? I don’t have an answer to that, which just makes me think – did I have a choice all along?” It’s a question that has been plaguing him for hours, sitting poised and ready to spring in the back of his mind, but as he finally speaks it aloud, a chill comes over him. His voice fractures like a crack spreading weblike through thin ice. “This whole time, was I just… not trying hard enough?”

“I don’t think –”

“It was the same with taking statements,” he blurts out, wide-eyed and wound taut. “When the others discovered what I was doing, I stopped, which means I – I could have done all along, and just – didn’t.”

“You implied before that you were sort of – influenced?” Georgie’s voice is thoughtful, not accusatory; her expression searching, but not judgmental. Jon can feel his shoulders relax just slightly.

“‘Influenced’ is one way to put it, yes. But not controlled, exactly – not quite. It was – instinctual, almost? And once a story starts, it’s sort of like – being in a trance, I suppose.”

“I remember you having a kind of… faraway look to you, when I was telling you my story.”

“It wasn’t like that in the very beginning,” he says, watching his fingers curl on his bouncing knees. “I don’t know when they started having that effect on me. I… didn’t even notice the change. Didn’t notice that I was physically dependent on them until I was traveling. Started to get sick the longer I went without them. And when I woke up… just reading statements wasn’t enough anymore.” He draws in a measured breath. Gathers his thoughts. Exhales slowly. “The first time, I was just shopping. I felt – unwell, hazy. Then he was there, and I just – Asked, before I even realized what was happening. The next time was just after Melanie stabbed me –”

“She what?”

“It was – sort of deserved,” Jon says, waving it off. He continues before Georgie can get another word in. “I felt – drained, after. Thought I just needed some air, so I went for a walk. Wasn’t long before I crossed paths with my next – victim. Didn’t realize until much later that I must have been… hunting, subconsciously. Like a fugue, almost. But just before I Asked, I had this moment where I – I knew what I was about to do, and I just – did it anyway. And then the third time was –”

“After the Coffin,” Georgie guesses. The look on her face is that mixture of sadness and pity that haunted Jon in their shared nightmares for so long.

“Yes.” Jon keeps his eyes downcast. “And the fourth time was after I – well, I tried too hard to Know something, and it sort of – took it out of me.”

“So the trigger is being injured, or weakened?”

“Maybe in the beginning. The last time, though… I was feeling weak, yes, but there was no specific incident that precipitated it. Basira needed me at full strength for a mission. So I Knew where I could find a statement, and I made sure to be in the right place at the right time.” He wrings his hands in his lap. “But the mission was just the way I rationalized it to myself. I was just hungry. I would’ve fed regardless, and reached for whatever excuse was closest to hand, and felt guilty later, and – well, rinse and repeat.”

“You didn’t quite answer when I asked before, but… is it an addiction, or is it sustenance?”

“It’s a… need.” Jon bites his lip in thought. “Feels like addiction sometimes, but the compulsion is worse than nicotine cravings ever were. And when I tried to stop, it – it wasn’t only withdrawal. I actually was starving. Still don’t know if it would have actually killed me, but…” He shrugs. “Suppose we’ll find out.”

“Jon –”

“But I – I need you to understand,” Jon says, jolting up straight in his seat. “I’m not making excuses. I’m done making excuses, there are no excuses, just – explanations. I was influenced, yes, and it often felt like being – enthralled, but I still… I knew that I was dangerous, that what I was doing was wrong. If I thought I couldn’t help myself, I should’ve told the others from the start and they would’ve done what was necessary. I always felt ashamed after, but I still – kept doing it, until I was forced to stop.”

He’s ranting at full-tilt now, breath quickening and heart stuttering in his throat.

“I didn’t just need it, Georgie, I wanted it. I – I liked it. It felt good. And I know for a fact that it still would, if I let myself do it again. I’ve seen the consequences of becoming – that, and I still…” His shoulders sag. “I miss it. I’m afraid I’ll never stop wanting it, I hate myself for that, and it changes nothing.”

“You’re hungry now, aren’t you?” Georgie asks gently.

Jon tsks and pinches the bridge of his nose. “That obvious, is it?”

“Mm.” She gives him a sympathetic smile. “You seem more jittery than usual. And you’re shaking.”

“Ravenous,” he says with a bitter laugh. “Worst I’ve been in – a long while, and it’s only going to get worse.”

He lets his gaze drift to the floor as he briefly debates whether to share the details. She should probably know what manner of monster she’s dealing with.

“Actually, ah – someone upstairs has a statement,” he says before he can lose his nerve. “She was writing it out just before we came down here, and I could See the shape of it, but not the whole story, and now I can’t See her anymore, and I – I need –” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, scraping ragged fingernails against his scalp. “Christ, Georgie, it’s all I can do not to rush up there and rip it out of her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“Not yours, either. Don’t,” Georgie says, cutting him off when he opens his mouth to launch into another tirade. “I’m not saying that you were justified in hurting people. But you didn’t choose to be… this.”

“I may not have wanted it,” he says flatly, “but I did choose it.”

“How so?”

She sounds genuinely curious, not confrontational, which keeps him from going on the defensive. Instead, the question gives Jon pause.

“I… I don’t know how to explain it,” he says slowly, frowning. “Just – something Jonah said to me, and it – feels right.”

“He said that to you?” Georgie’s eyes narrow as she watches him. “Those words?”

“Yes?” Jon squirms in his seat; sometimes, Georgie’s scrutiny is on par with that of the Beholding. “A long time ago. Before the Unknowing, even. When I realized that I was becoming something – not human, and confronted him about it.”

Georgie taps a knuckle against her lips, looking down at the floor in thought.

“Jon, I’m going to say something, and I want you to think about it – really think about it, don’t just discard it offhand. Alright?”

“Okay?” Jon says, apprehension flooding him.

Georgie takes a breath and looks him in the eye.

“Supernatural flavor aside, that’s just how abusers talk in order to groom their victims.”

Jon recoils as if struck and shoves the information away from him almost as soon as the words leave her mouth.

“Does it really matter?” It comes out far more harshly than he had intended, closer to a shout than a comment, and he cringes. “Sorry. It’s just – he had a point.”

“Jon –”

“No, I chose to keep looking for answers at every turn,” Jon says, gesticulating wildly. “I’ve never known when to just stop, no matter how many times people get hurt from it. I was a perfect fit for the Beholding, the perfect candidate for Jonah to do with what he will, and I – I still am. Doesn’t matter if I wanted this outcome. I still sought it out. Moth to a fucking flame.”

“Doesn’t mean you chose it, and it doesn’t mean you deserved what happened to you,” Georgie says. For some reason that Jon can’t quite pinpoint, the quiet confidence with which she speaks grates on his nerves. “And anyway, it seems to me you’re doing a decent job at controlling yourself now.”

“Yeah.” He huffs. “Only it took Basira threatening to kill me.”

“She what?”

“Not recently. In my future. It was warranted,” he says with a dismissive gesture. Then he sighs, slouching in his seat. “And I don’t know if even that threat would have stopped me forever. Didn’t have to find out. I managed to end the world first, and then I had all the fear I could ever want.”

The moment he stops speaking, his mind once again drifts to the statement ripe for the taking just upstairs. His bitter expression turns anguished and he buries his face in his hands.

“I want to kill the part of me that misses it. That might just kill all of me, but honestly, Georgie, I don’t – I don’t know if that would be such a bad thing –” He chokes on his words and looks up at her with wide, frantic eyes. “I – I’m sorry, I didn’t – I shouldn’t have said –” He takes a deep breath and forces assurance into his voice when he says, “I’m not suicidal.”

“I won’t be angry if you are,” Georgie says evenly, “if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not suicidal,” he says again, but he looks away as he does, unable to meet her eyes. “I don’t – want to die. I just feel like as long as I’m around, everyone – everything is in danger, and – what right to I have to make that decision for the world? It’s – selfish, and – I really don’t deserve a second chance, especially when part of me still…”

Jon swallows hard. Once again, he wonders if the woman with the statement is still here. He pinches the skin of his arm and twists. Noticing the tic, Georgie frowns and opens her mouth to redirect him, but he carries on speaking, undeterred.

“I think the only reason I chose to wake up again is because I needed to help Daisy and Martin. I think the only reason I’m still alive now is because I don’t want to leave Martin alone. Or – no, that makes it sound out of obligation or – or guilt. It's not that. It's – I – I want to be with him, I do. I actively want to – to have a life with him, just – live, be. If not for that, though, I… I’m tired, Georgie.”

Tired of hurting and being hurt, of watching and being watched. Tired of hunger and want and an existence that hinges upon the misery of others. Tired loss and scars and nightmares. Tired of having to settle for not wanting to die instead of wanting to live. Tired of just surviving instead of actually living.

“I’m just tired,” he says, putting his head in his hands again. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to hear this.”

“I would rather you talk about it than keep it bottled up.”

“I just don’t want you to think that I’m not trying to get better.”

“Recovery isn’t linear. I’m not going to leave just because you have bad days. It would be different if you were closed off, denying you have a problem, but… you’re not.” When he doesn’t answer, her frown deepens. Her next words sound almost affronted. “I’ve been suicidal, Jon, you know that. Why do you think I’d hold it against you? I know you can’t just flip a switch to make it go away. Why are you so afraid –” Realization dawns on her face. “I left last time, didn’t I?”

“I never regained autonomy in the nightmares, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to you before I woke up.” Jon shrugs halfheartedly. “You didn’t expect me to wake up. Then I did, and I didn’t have any of the complications to be expected from a six-months coma. Not even a coma, really, just – everything but brain dead. A corpse coming back to life – I think it was too much for you. You told me I needed people to keep me human, and by the time I took that advice there was no one left to turn to, and now I wasn’t human anymore. It kept me from dying, but you didn’t think it was a second chance.”

“I said that to you?”

“The, uh, last bit,” he says reluctantly. He doesn’t blame Georgie for leaving, but he can’t deny that her parting words to him on that day still sting, even now – a resounding condemnation that he can’t quite shake. “But you weren’t wrong,” he says, rushing to reassure her when he sees the horrified look on her face. “It wasn’t a second chance, it was just… the next phase of the Archivist’s development. Anyway, you were tired of watching me self-destruct, you knew there was nothing you could to do change my trajectory, and you didn’t want me to drag you down with me. Or Melanie. Her life had – has, I suppose – been nothing but misery since the day she met me. She was trying to get out, to get better.”

“And you?”

“I wanted to, but I just… couldn’t see a way out. I couldn’t leave, but I…” He bites down hard on his lower lip, struggling with his next words. “I don’t think I was choosing to stay involved, either.”

“And I thought you were.”

“You weren’t the only one. And it wasn’t an unfair assumption. I was” – am, his brain corrects – “in too deep. I didn’t” – don’t, he reminds himself –“belong in normal life anymore. I couldn’t” – can’t, he does not say aloud – “reverse the change. Even when I found out how to quit… I couldn’t just leave Martin here alone. Also, I know now that it wouldn’t have worked for me anyway.”

“It would’ve killed you,” she guesses.

“No such luck,” he says with a short laugh, then feels his blood drain from his face. He looks up and fixes her with a panicked, apologetic look. “Sorry, I – that was in poor taste, it’s just – that was what went through my mind when I first realized it.”

“It’s alright.”

Jon clears his throat, still somewhat shamefaced.

“What I mean is that I, ah, tried to blind myself during the Ritual. Turns out I heal too quickly for it to have any effect on my connection with the Beholding. Otherwise I’d have tried it again the moment I woke up in the hospital.”

Georgie says nothing. When he chances a glimpse of her, he sees no judgment or anger, just more of that familiar, gentle sadness. He has to look away again.

“I don’t blame you for walking away back then. You didn’t have the whole picture. Neither did I, but even if I did, I probably wouldn’t have given you all the details, and you knew that. I can’t fault you for not wanting to stay involved when you didn’t know what being involved would actually entail.” He looks up and meets her eyes. “Honestly, Georgie, even if you’d stayed, I probably would have made all the same mistakes. I would have continued putting myself in danger and downplaying it. I would still have gone into the Coffin, and I wouldn’t have told you where I was going beforehand. I would likely have distanced myself from you on my own, because I’d have convinced myself it was in your best interests without asking you how you felt about it. I’ve… changed since then, but at the time, I probably would have continued retracing the same patterns. You would have only gotten hurt, even if it wasn’t my intention.”

“Maybe.” She frowns, chin propped on her fist as she considers. “I can’t speak for a version of me that doesn’t exist anymore. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry you were alone.”

“And I’m sorry I didn’t realize how much I didn’t want to be alone until it was too late.”

“It’s not too late now, though,” she says with a cautious smile.

“No, I suppose not.” Jon’s answering smile fades as he gives her a serious look. “None of this obligates you to stick around, by the way.”

“I know.”

“I’m serious. I’m glad you’re here, but…” It’s more than I deserve, he almost says, but stops himself when he imagines Georgie’s reaction to that. “I don't want things to become – toxic, between us. If it gets to be too much, I’ll understand.”

“If it does, it won’t be just because you had a setback. Just – try not to wallow too much when you do, alright? You’re not good company for yourself when you’re like that.”

“Yeah,” Jon concedes on a long exhale.

Georgie sighs, a pensive look on her face.

“I think I may have given you the wrong impression before. When I made you promise that you didn’t have a death wish, it wasn’t because I was going to leave if you’re suicidal. It was because I don’t want to be lied to about it if you are. I don’t want to be blindsided by your self-destruction, or made complicit in it. It isn’t fair to me.”

“I don’t want that either,” he says softly. “And I – I wasn’t lying before, when I promised you that the Coffin wasn’t a death wish. I just… I thought…”

“You thought you could make the decision to live once and be done with it.”

“Sounds foolish when you put it like that, but… yes, I suppose so.”

“Would be nice if it worked like that,” Georgie says with a rueful smile. Then she sighs. “I’m not expecting you to get better overnight, and neither should you – especially when you’re still in the thick of it. I’m just expecting you to communicate when things get bad, rather than throwing yourself onto the nearest grenade as – atonement, or punishment, or some misguided belief that you have to earn the right to live. I won’t be a party to that. I can’t. I don’t… hold it against you personally, I get it, I’ve been there – but that’s why I can’t be around it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“To be clear,” she says emphatically, waiting until he meets her eye before continuing, “I don’t mind hearing about those thoughts. I take issue with you acting on them with no regard for yourself or the people around you, and then minimizing the consequences. And that – that isn’t a value judgment. It’s just… watching you get trapped in that cycle, it takes me to a bad place.” Georgie chews on her lip for a moment, and then nods, as if coming to a conclusion. “If you were looking for a boundary, there it is. I know you can’t avoid danger entirely, but when you’re feeling like this, can you at least promise to talk to someone before making any drastic decisions? You have to let us know if you’re in a bad way, because it will affect your judgment.”

Jon lets out a long exhale. “I will.”

“Okay. I can live with that.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, self-conscious.

“About your voice, though.” Jon gives her a quizzical look. “I thought it was wholly a supernatural thing, but…” She looks up at the ceiling, gathering her thoughts, and then adopts a delicate tone. “Have you considered that it might also be a – a trauma response?”

“I didn’t before.”

“And now?”

“I… I don’t know. It first started partway through the apocalypse. The more I experienced, the more the Archive asserted itself. I was still me, most of the time, but I was also – more, I suppose? It’s… complicated.” Jon rakes his fingers through his hair as he works on his phrasing. “The human mind was never meant to contain that… much. The Archive’s purpose is to – well, to archive. Every instance of fear and suffering in that place was a statement. Billions of them, every moment recorded live – and when I read or take a statement, I live it vicariously. My own experience of it is… an essential part of the recording process.” He blows out a puff of air. “So I had a lot going through my head at any given moment. The human in me couldn’t be conscious of all of it at the same time.”

“That’s… horrible.”

“Yes. And it felt right.” He rubs one arm absently, looking off to the side. “I don’t think I was meant to survive – the human part of me, that is. I was just one mind; I should have gotten lost in the multitude. And I did, sometimes, but… I always found my way back. Martin always called me back. If not for him…”

If not for him, Jon would have lost his sense of self in the Archive, given up and accepted the role assigned to him, much like he suspects Gertrude would have. When he lost Martin, Jon almost did lose himself as well.

“Either way, I was – above all else, I was still an Archive. I learned to compartmentalize, to an extent, but I was never meant to have my own voice. At some point, it got lost in all the noise. If I wanted to communicate, I could only use the stories hoarded away in the Archive.”

Jon frowns in consideration, actively weighing the most likely theories as he talks himself through the evidence.

“I… don’t think it was purely a psychological response,” he says slowly, gaining in confidence as he speaks the words. “I think it was a consequence of what I was in that place. The Archive was part of that world’s fabric, so to speak. But this reality operates differently than the one I came from. Its natural laws aren’t dictated by the Beholding. It has… less prominence here. Case in point, I’m significantly less powerful now than I was in my future.”

Georgie raises an eyebrow. “How powerful are we talking?”

“I was an apex predator among monsters. A direct conduit of the Ceaseless Watcher. Oh,” he adds offhandedly, “and I Knew everything.”

“What.”

“Well – almost everything. And not all at once. It was more that I – I was able to Know almost anything if I looked for the answer.” He allows himself a small grin. “Post-apocalyptic Google, so to speak.”

“Sounds… useful?”

“In some ways. It’s awful to say, but I miss it sometimes. Having control over it, mostly. I could stop myself from Knowing things about a person, give them more privacy. But I also couldn’t opt out of Knowing entirely. I just… had more control over what I Knew and when. And there were still things I couldn’t Know. The Beholding will hoard almost any scrap of information, but it has a clear preference for the horrific. It was utterly silent on anything related to an after – an afterlife, a reversal of the apocalypse, any sort of escape or release from the nightmare.”

“God,” Georgie murmurs, almost to herself.

“Jury’s out on that one, too.”

“No, I just meant –” Georgie pauses when she sees Jon smirk. “Oh, I see. You’re just being a smartass.” She shoots him a grin and nudges him with her foot. “What about now? Do you still –”

“I don’t have near as much control over it as I used to, no. I can remember the things that I consciously chose to Know then, but… that sea of knowledge, all those potential answers to any hypothetical questions – my access to it is limited now. And I’m Knowing things unintentionally again.”

“What about the Archive – the statements?”

“When I first woke up, it felt – the same as it did in the future. A sort of – wall of static that lowered whenever I tried to use my own words. It lifted in the Buried, because I was cut off from the Eye – from the Archive. I thought it would reassert itself when I came back – and it did for a minute – but now it’s…” Jon stares down at his hands, clenched tightly in his lap. “I still have recall of all the statements I already had archived. Not all at once, more like a – like a database, I suppose, but – they’re there if I look for them. The Archive is still there, and sometimes it slips through, but… it’s not as dominant as it was before. And seeing as I can speak at all, apparently state of mind is more of a factor than I thought. At least right now. Not sure about before.”

“Well,” Georgie says, “even if you have more control over it now, it doesn’t mean you always did. Sometimes circumstances change.”

“Maybe,” Jon says, his thoughts already beginning to stray.

Georgie sighs in exasperation.

“Just because there’s a future where things are better doesn’t mean you’re a failure for things being bad in the present. Jon, look at me.” He does, albeit reluctantly. “What you’ve gone through isn’t something that you just get over. It’s always going to be there. That doesn’t mean things will never get better. It just means that you need to make peace with the fact that you’ll have ups and downs. If you turn on yourself every time you’re struggling, you’ll never notice the moments of progress. And if you see every instance of progress as an opportunity to berate yourself for not achieving it sooner, then, well – I’m sorry, but things aren’t going to get better.”

“I – I know. It’s just…”

“Difficult. I know. I’ve been there.” Her expression softens. “I’m not trying to be harsh. I don’t expect one conversation to change the way you think. It takes years of practice to break that sort of pattern. But when you need reminders – and you will, and I won’t be disappointed when you do – I’m going to keep giving them to you. I’ll ask you to at least consider them each time before dismissing them outright. Does that sound fair?”

“More than,” Jon says, giving her a weak smile.

“Good, because I seem to recall you making the same request of me once upon a time.”

Did I? Jon thinks back and draws a blank. Not for the first time, he curses how unreliable his memory can be.

“Still,” he says, “I’m sorry to be such a –”

“If you say ‘burden’ or anything to that effect, I actually will be cross with you.”

“Noted,” Jon says with an embarrassed chuckle. “But – sincerely, I – I know that right now I’m –” Dead weight, he almost says. Volatile. Fragile. Tiresome. Untrustworthy. A walking doomsday button. Georgie gives him a warning look, silently urging him to consider his next words carefully. “Struggling,” he opts for. “But I do want to be there for you if you need me, in whatever way I can, so… open invitation to confide in me, or ask for help, or – or anything you need.”

“That was eloquent,” she replies with a teasing smirk. Jon rolls his eyes.

“Ironically, I think I was more eloquent when I was the Archive.”

“Eloquent in a poetic sense, maybe,” Georgie says with mock thoughtfulness, “but it didn’t lend itself to clarity.”

Another hunger pang rips through Jon's mind and he clenches his jaw, curling his shaking hands into fists.

“Hey.” Georgie prods his foot with hers again. “You ready to see Martin?”

“I, ah…” Jon gives a nervous laugh. “I want to see him more than anything, but I’m also – terrified? I know things won’t be how I remember them, I know I have to adjust my expectations, but I don’t know what to adjust them to, and I don’t know what to expect from myself, either, and…”

And the hunger is eating away at him from the inside out, an incessant undercurrent of need-want-feed running parallel with every other thought vying for his attention. He brings his hands to his face, puts pressure on his eyes, grounds himself in the ache. Almost immediately, his brain latches onto the words pressure and ground and suddenly he’s comparing the cravings to being buried alive, to drowning in noise, to being suffocated by the crush of stories that was – is – destined to comprise the entirety of his being. He’s being drawn over the threshold of that ubiquitous, baleful door in his mind: hated and feared, yes, but completing him all the same.

Guess that’s the thing about being the chosen one, Arthur Nolan’s words echo in the Archive’s halls. At the end of it, you’re always just the point of someone else’s story, everyone clamoring to say what you were, what you meant, and your thoughts on it all don’t mean nothing.

Jon tries to dislodge the statement, but there is no stop button to corral the Archive, and the story continues on: It seeds us with this… aching, impossible desire to change the world, to bring it to us.

There are hundreds of thousands of words pounding on the door now, none of them his own, an endless stream of them queuing up in his throat, cramming into his lungs – and with a painful lurch, he’s falling down, down, down –

Breathe, comes the familiar mantra.

On the one hand, he’s glad for how quickly and mindlessly that coping mechanism kicks in by now. On the other hand, he wishes he didn’t have so many opportunities to practice that it’s become so ingrained in the first place. There is something different about it this time, though. Usually, he imagines the command in his own voice, or occasionally Martin’s. Just now, he could pick out multiple tones, all overlapping: Martin. Georgie. Basira. Daisy. Himself.

The effect is potent. It allows him to walk himself back from the edge in record time. The hunger still scratches impatiently at the door, but he manages to tear his attention away from it long enough to remember where and when and who he is. When he glances back up, he realizes that only a few seconds have transpired – a storm so brief that apparently even Georgie didn’t register its passing. Instead, she’s staring over his shoulder. She catches his eye, raises her eyebrows, and nods, indicating something behind him.

“Well,” she says with a smile both amused and reassuring, “I think you’re about to find out.”

Another stab of panic shoots through him, shattering his momentary calm. Time stands still. When lightheadedness overtakes him and his vision starts to pixelate, he realizes that he’s been holding his breath. He lets out a juddering exhale, and turns around.

When he lays eyes on Martin, Jon is speechless all over again.

Martin startles when Jon’s eyes lock onto his, still unaccustomed to and unsettled by such direct eye contact. He immediately regrets that reaction when he watches Jon recoil and avert his eyes. The reflexive urge to vanish overtakes Martin then – and he feels himself begin to panic a little more when it yields no results. He had been accessing that power up until moments ago, when he dropped the veil; why is it out of reach now?

“Hi, Martin,” Georgie says, apparently unperturbed by the awkward atmosphere. “I was just keeping Jon company until you got here, but I’ll give you two some privacy now.” She stands, stretches, and brings one arm down to touch Jon’s shoulder. “I’ll be here for a while yet. If you need me, I’ll probably be in Melanie’s usual spot.”

Martin can see Jon incline his head slightly. If Jon sees her reassuring smile, he gives no indication. Georgie gives his shoulder another pat and starts to walk towards the ladder. Martin steps aside, giving her a wide berth – force of habit – and watches until the trapdoor closes behind her.

For what feels like an interminable moment, the stale air hangs heavy with silence. Martin stands rigid, mind drawing a blank. Could cut the tension in here with a bread knife, he thinks to himself, somewhat hysterically.

Jon, for his part, is staring steadfastly at the ground, utterly unmoving – and Martin’s heart wrenches painfully in his chest at the sight.

Of all the adjectives that could be used to describe Jonathan Sims, unmoving has never been one of them. When he��s not running his hands through his hair or scratching at his skin, he’s bouncing his legs, tapping his fingers, biting the insides of his cheeks, pacing, rocking in place – an endless rotation of fidgets and stims, flowing one into the next. When he’s excited, his eyes light up, intense and intelligent and impossible to break away from; he interrupts himself in his rush to translate his thoughts into speech before he loses them entirely; he’s a flurry of animated gestures and borderline manic pacing. Even at rest, his eyes are bright with questions and his hands flutter when he talks; even exhausted and lethargic, his mind is a hummingbird flitting from thought to thought with frantic abandon, eager to catalog every detail and cover every angle.

Sometimes, it’s vicariously exhausting to witness; most of the time, Martin is hopelessly endeared. In all the time that Martin has known him, the coma was the first time he ever saw Jon entirely still. Martin used to wish on occasion that he had more chances to just look at him. Up until that point, he’d had to make do with furtive glances and stolen moments when Jon was too engrossed in a task to notice Martin staring. In the hospital, Martin finally had a chance to really study him freely.

Stillness doesn’t suit him, Martin remembers thinking – and another piece of his heart chipped away.

Unconsciously, Martin finds himself studying Jon again now. He sits hunched forward with his arms folded tightly in front of him, a white-knuckled grip on each elbow, his narrow shoulders pulled in and forward. Judging from the predictably mussed state of his hair, he must have been combing his fingers through it nonstop recently. His lips are chapped and torn from chewing; the dark circles under his eyes seem to have shadows of their own. His multiple layers of clothing do nothing to hide the gauntness of his frame or the frailness of his wrists.

Jon is awake now, yes, but still he looks… distant. Listless. Too close to lifeless for comfort; too reminiscent of deathbeds and silent monitors and grey hospital linens. So Martin breaks the silence.

“Jon.”

He doesn’t raise his head, but his eyes flick upwards to gaze at Martin through his lashes. Sharp eyes, haunted eyes, more and more so with every passing day – and now, they’re downright bleak. Still, though, they’re beautiful: a rich brown, dark and deep enough to fall into, and Martin could lose himself in them gladly. Then, Jon breaks eye contact again, curling in on himself even further.

How is it that he manages to look more run down every time I see him? Martin thinks, and then he notices Jon’s hands, trembling in his lap now.

“You’re shaking.”

“Yes.” The word cracks on its way out, coming out as little more than a croak, and Jon clears his throat before trying again. “Just, ah – just hungry.”

“You’ve been back a few hours now, haven’t you eaten yet?” Martin replies automatically, the caretaker in him taking charge. “Jon, you were in there for over a week, you need to –”

“Not – not that kind of hunger.” Jon finally raises his head, but his eyes still dart away from Martin’s every few moments.

“Oh,” Martin says quietly. “Statements.”

“Yeah.” Jon scuffs one foot against the floor.

“W-well, I can wait, if you want to go record one?”

“No, I –” Jon clears his throat again, sitting up straighter in his seat. “I’d prefer to talk. If that’s alright with you. I’m – I’m sure you have questions for me.”

Martin considers. On the one hand, his instinct is to insist that Jon take care of himself first. On the other hand, he knows how stubborn Jon can be. Arguing about it wouldn’t change his mind, only waste time and ultimately leave him waiting longer for a meal.

“Yeah,” Martin says with a reluctant sigh, “I guess.”

“R-right. Well…” One end of Jon’s scarf trails in his lap, and he runs his fingertips over the weave, in the same way that one might pet a cat. “I – I’ll answer them as best I can.”

“Right,” Martin echoes.

“Would you like to sit?”

Martin nods wordlessly and takes a seat opposite Jon, but his mind goes blank again.

“Georgie said she explained things?” Jon tries tentatively.

“Sort of. She said she was working on an incomplete explanation herself.”

“Yes, that was – that was my fault. I was having some –”

“Speech difficulties, yeah. She said.”

“Which is also why my message to you was so…” Jon sighs. “I would have preferred to use my own words.”

“But did you mean it?” Martin blurts out. He feels his face heat in an instant and he has to look away.

“Yes,” Jon says quietly. Confidently, Martin notes privately, and blushes more deeply. “The sentiment was all mine. I know it may seem – out of the blue, from your perspective, but I – I meant it, all of it.” Jon ducks his head, but doesn’t look away. “I, uh – I still do.”

It’s Martin’s turn to break eye contact, keen to look anywhere other than into Jon’s eyes and the open, sincere warmth living there.

“I’m not the person you remember,” Martin says stiffly.

“Neither am I,” Jon replies, his voice softer than Martin has ever heard it.

Martin’s throat works as he swallows hard.

“I’m not the person you fell in love with.”

Jon’s expression softens and he gives Martin a beseeching look.

“I disagree,” he says, with more of his earlier assurance.

“I’m not,” Martin insists. “I don’t know what the me of the future was like, but I’m not – I’m not him. Whatever he did to make you fall for him, it’s – it’s not me.”

“Martin, I fell in love with this version of you,” Jon replies, his voice tremulous. “With every version of you.”

Martin just stares. Jon smiles at him: soft, sad, sorry, sincere.

“I – I know it’s difficult to believe. I treated you – horribly, and for so long. Took you for granted. Never gave you the respect or care you deserved. I… I don’t think I’ll ever stop being sorry for that.” He maintains eye contact, and Martin once again finds that he cannot look away. “I’ve never been… good at this sort of thing – putting words to how I feel. In retrospect, I was falling for you even before the Unknowing. I just – didn’t realize how much until I woke up and you weren’t there. There was a – an empty space where you used to be, and I couldn’t… I was almost too late. I almost lost you –”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Martin is startled to see the sheen to his eyes.

“I… I did lose you, eventually, and it nearly…” His voice is rough with held back tears. He clears his throat, and when he speaks again, there’s an intensity to his voice that Martin just now realizes he’s missed. “But not – not until much later. Not here. Not now. Not to Peter fucking Lukas.”

Martin lets out an amused huff at the venom with which Jon says the name. Jon looks up, tilting his head slightly – and Martin can feel one corner of his mouth turning up ever so slightly at the familiar mannerism.

“Sorry,” he says. “Just – don’t hear you swear much.”

“Well, he deserves it,” Jon replies, half-scathing, half-embarrassed.

“Can’t say I disagree with you there,” Martin says with a tired chuckle.

“About – about Peter.” Once again, the name sounds poisonous on Jon’s tongue. “He’s lying to you –”

A bolt of annoyance shoots through Martin at that.

“I’m not an idiot, Jon.”

“No,” Jon says hurriedly, his hands fluttering in agitation, “I didn’t mean to imply –” He breathes a heavy sigh, flustered. “I know that I – I underestimated you for far too long. But you’re clever, and capable, and you understand people in a way that I find endlessly impressive.” To his chagrin, Martin can feel himself redden at the unexpected praise. “You’re not gullible enough to trust Peter for a moment. I know that. And” – Jon grins at him with such open affection that Martin wants to flee – “last time, you outmaneuvered him so seamlessly that I – after seeing the look on Peter’s face, I think I fell a little more in love with you, impossible as it seemed.”

Martin’s face is on fire now, must be.

“I trusted you then, wholeheartedly, and I still do,” Jon continues. “I… I’ll respect whatever decision you make going forward. Even if it means you continue working with Peter. But,” he adds, licking his lips nervously, “I have information now that we didn’t have the first time around, and I – I’d like you to know the whole story. It could have implications for whatever strategy you decide on.”

“You’re talking about the Extinction.”

“Among other things, yes.”

“Is it a real thing?”

Jon lets out a long exhale, looking off to the side with a pensive scowl. Martin can feel himself smile at the sight of that oh-so-familiar crease between his eyebrows, a telltale harbinger of a Jonathan Sims dissertation. Resting his chin in his hands and leaning forward, Martin settles in for an earful.

“Yes,” Jon says after a moment’s hesitation, “but – it’s more complicated than Peter assumes. It’s real insofar as it’s a pervasive terror for large swathes of the human population. Justifiably so, I think it’s fair to say. And it’s possible that, given existential threats like global climate change, nuclear weaponry proliferation, pandemics, war, artificial scarcity, structural oppression and inequality embedded in society worldwide…”

He counts off on his fingers, the line between his eyebrows deepening as he builds momentum.

“And of course we have a twenty-four-hour news cycle inundating us all with that reality, and – entire genres of literature and film utilizing those apocalyptic themes… well, suffice it to say, the fear of a world without us might eventually reach a point where it could be considered on par with Smirke’s Fourteen.

“But Smirke’s taxonomy is also an oversimplification. The human experience is far too varied and complex to be split into neat categories. The animal experience, rather. It’s likely that the Fears have existed since before the advent of modern Homo sapiens, and if we consider the origins of the Flesh – it would be anthropocentric to assume that only the human mind is subject to them, and” – Jon shakes his head – “I'm veering off topic. Point is, the Fears bleed into one another. It’s why a Ritual for a single power was never going to work, why Jonah – Elias’ Ritual was predicated on bringing through all Fourteen at once. Or, case in point, perhaps Fifteen. The Extinction did have a domain of its own after the change, it was just… less sprawling than the others, and there were fewer instances of it. And no Avatars dedicated to it, as far as I could tell.”

Jon taps two fingers against his lips, leg bouncing restlessly as he ponders his next words.

“As for an Emergence, though… I really don’t think there is such a thing as a grand birthing event. The Extinction is already here, in a way. Many of the statements feature more than one Fear at a time, precisely because the boundaries between them are so indistinct. Some of the statements that Adelard Dekker collected – I do think that they contain genuine examples of the Extinction as a coherent Fear of its own, just… mixed in with other Fears. I imagine the Extinction’s trajectory might be similar to that of the Flesh – arising as times change, as more and more minds collectively experience that flavor of fear.

“It might be a quick evolution – similar to how anthropogenic climate change has followed an exponential growth curve, aptly enough – but I don’t think that the Extinction is or – or will be somehow more formidable than the other Fourteen.” His speech turns rapid-fire as he bounces from one thought to the next. “It can’t exist independently of the other Fourteen any more than the others can, so a Ritual on its behalf would collapse under its own weight. If there is a grand extinction event – well, when, I suppose; nothing lasts forever, the End claims everything eventually, time continues its slow crawl towards the inevitable heat death of the universe, et cetera –”

Jon is counting off on his fingers again. Martin shakes his head fondly.

“But it won't occur because of an Extinction Ritual,” Jon goes on. “There was an apocalypse where I came from, and it had nothing to do with the Extinction. Just… a very human flavor of monstrosity: the pursuit of power and personal gain, even at the cost of unimaginable suffering for everyone else.” He gives a humorless laugh. “Fittingly enough, though, it all started from a place of fear – of mortality, of subjugation, of the unknown.” Jon’s expression falls, and his voice drops to a near whisper. “And – and my own fear led me to the eye of that storm, so to speak. All of it can be traced back to that foundational fear of the unknown, can't it? The roots just… branch outward from there.”

Jon’s already trembling hands twitch abruptly, as if snapping something in two. He doesn’t appear to notice the gesture, too lost in his own thoughts. Before Martin can voice his concern at the shift in demeanor, Jon shakes his head and forges onward. He reverts to his previous hyperfocused, almost academic manner, but an undercurrent of anxious energy lingers.

“Anyway, I actually suspect that, much like the End, the Extinction wouldn’t benefit from a Ritual even if one could work. It thrives on the potentiality of a mass extinction event, not the fulfillment of one. The Fears will cease to exist when there are no longer minds to fear them. Of course, it doesn’t have to be humans, or any creature currently living. If something does come after us, the Fears will likely survive and adapt, but otherwise –”

Jon finally makes eye contact with Martin for the first time in minutes and stops short.

“Oh,” he says, sounding mortified, “I’ve been… rambling, haven’t I.”

“I don’t mind,” Martin replies, unable to fight back a smile.

“W-well, anyway…” Jon rubs the back of his neck, looking thoroughly embarrassed. “I don’t believe that the Extinction is the world-ending threat that Peter claims, so if you were planning on continuing to work with him because of that…” He shrugs. “Also, his plan for you was never about the Extinction. Not really. He was – is – genuinely worried about the Extinction, but his plan to stop it is to have the Forsaken destroy the world first. But it hasn’t been long since his last Ritual failed; he knows it will be some time before he can try again. His immediate plan is all about one-upping Elias, taking control of the Panopticon, and accruing power in order to increase the chances of success for his next Ritual attempt.”

Jon exhales another humorless laugh, and his voice takes on an odd, breathless quality as he continues.

“Not all that different from Jonah Magnus, really. His allegiance to the Eye began when he realized that his peers would continue attempting their own Rituals. His solution was to destroy the world before they could. So afraid of his own mortality that he was willing to subjugate the entire human population for his own benefit.” Jon folds his arms again, tucking them against his middle and leaning forward, as if trying to make himself smaller. When he speaks again, there’s a noticeable waver in his voice. “Somewhere along the line, he went beyond justifying his actions – jumped right to taking pleasure in them.”

Jon’s sharp eyes go unfocused. The rise and fall of his chest quickens.

“I’m sorry,” Martin says gently. He doesn’t know what else he can say.

“For what?” Jon asks, coming back to himself after an overlong pause.

“Georgie told me what he did to you. I mean, she didn’t go into detail, but she mentioned that he possessed you and used you to –”

“It wasn’t possession,” Jon interrupts, a desperate edge to his tone. “Not in the conventional horror movie sense. It was the same compulsion that takes me when I start reading any statement, just – more intense. I couldn’t – couldn’t control my body, but he wasn’t actually in my head, it just – felt like it, like he’d crawled into my skin along with his words. Then again, I –” Jon laughs, gripping one wrist with his other hand, fingernails digging grooves into scarred skin. “I suppose I was possessed in a way, in the sense of being someone else’s possession. Have been for a long time – haven’t belonged to myself since the moment he chose me, still don’t –”

Jon’s gaze goes distant yet again, and Martin watches with burgeoning worry as his pupils dilate and constrict with the fluctuation of his voice.

“…he posited a future where – humanity was violently and utterly supplanted –”

“– marked me as a part of that, without my understanding. Or consent –”

“Jon?” Martin says, apprehensive.

“– keep me in the dark just so I wouldn’t stop being useful – made me complicit in a thousand different nightmares, and lives ruined for the sick joy of some otherworldly voyeur –”

“– any future I might have had, sacrificed to his –”

“Jon, what’s –?”

There’s a singsong tenor to his voice and an intensity to his eyes now, reminiscent of the look he gets when he records –

Oh, Martin realizes. Statements.

“– I swear I could still feel those – eyes follow me – a grin of victory playing upon his lips –”

“Jon,” Martin says again, more insistently, reaching out on impulse to place a hand on Jon’s knee.

Cognizance flares to life in Jon’s eyes and his hands fly up to cover his mouth. He seems to struggle with himself for a minute, stolen words muffled beneath the hands pressed tight to his lips. He makes a noise that sounds almost like choking, or sobbing; he looks at Martin with wide, watery eyes, then takes a deep breath in. A quiet whimper chases the air out on his exhale, and Martin’s own breath catches in his throat. He’s seen Jon scared, but he’s never heard him make a sound quite like that – not while bleeding out from a fresh stab wound, not with a gash in his neck, not fumbling to apply ointment to a burned and peeling hand, not even with worms burrowing through his flesh and a corkscrew tearing through the tunnels they left behind.

“You’re okay,” Martin says, willing it to be true.

“I don’t – I don’t want to talk about him anymore,” Jon says abruptly, sharply. He winces and shoots Martin an apologetic look. “Sorry, that was – I didn’t mean to sound cross, I just –” He flaps his hands, lips moving wordlessly.

“It’s okay, I understand.”

Jon nods, but his breaths are still coming fast and shallow. One hand seeks out Martin’s, still resting on his knee; he grips it tight, fingers slotting between Martin’s like they belong there. The direct skin-to-skin contact sends pins and needles radiating up Martin’s arm, but he fights the impulse to draw back.

“We can talk about something else,” Martin says, forcing calm into his voice.

Jon inclines his head again, gulping down air. Even as his breathing begins to even out, the shivers coursing through him only grow more violent, the tremor in his hands becoming more and more pronounced.

“You need to eat something,” Martin says.

“N-no, I –”

“Yes, you do –”

“No!” The exclamation cracks like a whip and ricochets off the walls, echoing down the tunnel. Jon’s face crumples and he shrinks in on himself again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout, I –”

“It’s fine –”

“It’s not.”

“We can argue about it when you’re not literally starving. I’ll go fetch a statement, and –”

“It won’t help.”

“What do you mean?”

Jon brings his free hand to his mouth and bites down on his knuckles.

“Jon?” Martin says again, more sternly. “What did you mean?”

“I’m – not just the Archivist, Martin, I’m the Archive. All of the statements stored upstairs, I already have them, every single one of them catalogued in my head, and – re-experiencing them takes the edge off while I’m reading, but as soon as the recording stops, the hunger comes back even stronger, and I want…” Jon gives him a pained look. “Did Georgie tell you about…?”

“She mentioned something about you putting yourself under house arrest because you’re afraid of hurting people.”

“It’s necessary,” Jon says, almost defensively.

“What will happen if you don’t take in new statements?” Jon says nothing, and Martin sighs. “Jon.”

“I don’t know.”

“Will you starve?”

“I don’t know.”

“Please don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t know,” Jon says, pulling his hand away from Martin’s and rubbing his eyes furiously. “It feels like starving, but I don’t know if it will actually kill me. But I don’t want to hurt people just to keep myself from hurting. I don’t want to be like –” He cuts himself off with a sharp intake of breath. “I’ve caused untold suffering as it is. I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

“There was a woman giving a statement upstairs earlier –”

“I’m not taking her statement.” Jon’s reply is automatic, almost like a practiced line. It sounds as if he’s trying to convince himself more than Martin.

“I wasn’t suggesting –”

“Her name is Tricia Mallory,” Jon interjects. “It’s her birthday next week; she’ll be twenty-eight. She has two cats, and a parakeet, and a girlfriend named Shona, who has an engagement ring hidden in the bottom left drawer of her desk –”

“Why are you –”

“Because I’m so far removed from humanity at this point that I need to actively, continuously persuade myself not to see other people as cuts of meat.” Martin would have preferred snappish to the resigned, matter-of-fact, tired tone in which Jon gives that confession. “Her name is Tricia Mallory,” he recites again, in that same rehearsed manner. “She lost her voice in a minotaur’s labyrinth. She’s finding it again, slowly, but it will never be the same. Her nightmares are horrific enough without adding another monster to the mix. I’m not taking her statement.”

“What about just reading her written statement?” Martin asks. Jon blinks, slow and catlike, and Martin can see the uncanny glint of hunger in his eyes. “Have you already heard her story?”

“No,” Jon says after a sluggish pause. “I don’t think her statement ever made it down to the Archives the last time. And the knowledge of its content didn’t consciously come to me after the change. There were – so many other statements in progress by then. So much to See.”

“So it would be something new for you.” Jon is silent, staring off into the middle distance, unblinking, glassy eyes riveted on something only he can see. “Would that be enough to hold you over for now? It – it won’t be live and in person, but at least it won’t be… I don’t know, stale?”

“I…” Jon’s pupils dilate. Constrict. Dilate.

“She’s probably left by now,” Martin continues insistently. “I can go track down the statement and bring it back here.” Jon looks as if he’s warring with himself. “Please, Jon. It’s just a reading. You won’t hurt anyone.”

Blood wells up on Jon’s lip where he’s been biting it. Eventually, he gives a tiny nod, his shoulders going limp as if in defeat. Jon needs to eat, but Martin wishes it didn’t feel so much like pressuring someone to break sobriety.

“Okay,” Martin says, fighting back the surge of guilt, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Please don’t go anywhere, alright?”

“Alright,” Jon replies in a nearly inaudible whisper.

Martin tosses a glance over his shoulder as he leaves. Jon is eerily still again but for the persistent shaking. He looks small, and haunted, and lost; fragile, precarious, with a posture that brings to mind something broken and taped back together in slapdash fashion.

First things first, Martin tells himself, and tries to focus on the task at hand.

Once the trapdoor closes behind Martin, Jon buries his face in his hands.

That wasn’t how he wanted this conversation to go. Just judging from his demeanor, Martin has shaken off the Lonely more than Jon had expected, but still, Jon should be the one comforting him. It took the Martin of the future ages to acclimate to the idea that he deserved to be cared for, too; to unlearn the reflex to reverse any attempt Jon made to take care of him for once. Right now, Martin needs to be shown that care, and yet Jon can’t manage to redirect his one-track mind away from his hunger for more than five minutes at a time. Selfish, selfish, selfish –

The slow creak of a door cuts through the silence, and Jon’s blood runs cold when Helen’s playful lilt rings out behind him.

“Archivist,” she says with unrestrained glee. “Long time no see.”

Jon had been dreading the Distortion’s inevitable reappearance. He should have known that she would make her entrance when he’s at his most vulnerable. Like a shark to blood, he thinks to himself, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“Brooding, are we?”

“Hi, Helen,” he manages, struggling to stay impassive.

It doesn’t matter; he jumps anyway, when several long fingers – too many angles; too many joints – curl around his shoulder. As if her touch was an unpaid toll, she removes her hand once he provides payment in the form of that momentary burst of alarm. Her headache-inducing laugh is made all the worse by the acoustics of the tunnel.

“Now, then” – Jon doesn’t look around at her, but he can practically hear her lips curl in a grin – “pleasantries aside, I believe we’re due for a chat.”

End Notes:

Citations for Jon’s Archive-speak: MAG 010; 134/111; 154/144; 098. And Arthur Nolan’s statement is from MAG 145.

I’m hoping Jon’s ramble wasn’t Too Much lmao,,, it is admittedly part self-indulgence (read: shameless projection) on my part, but also: ADHD is just Like That sometimes. I’m still navigating how to strike a balance between having something like that flow well and be, well, readable from an audience perspective, while also trying to capture the reality of how an ADHD ramble often does lack coherence from an external POV, because so much of the associative reasoning never gets verbalized (Thought Train Goes Brrr from Point A to Point Q and Does Not Show Its Work). All this is to say: I know that whole section is meta-heavy NOW THAT’S WHAT I CALL TANGENTS. I don’t know if I achieved what I was aiming for, but it was fun practice. Hopefully the end result wasn’t too disjointed or too much of a slog. (I actually edited a lot out, believe it or not, lol.)

Also, in Jon's defense, he Really Needs A Snickers. And he hasn't been able to SPEAK FOR HIMSELF for months. He deserves a little infodumping, as a treat.

Thanks for sticking with me through the slower update schedule. We're back to full shifts at work now, so chapters are taking me longer to write. And apparently I've just decided all the chapters are gonna be 10k+ words now, whoops.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic

51 notes · View notes

aoitrinity · 4 years ago

Text

An Apology

CW: Brief mentions of mental illness, depression, and suicidal thoughts; general feelings of sadness, hopelessness, and loss.

Message below the cut.

Hi guys.

After the hellish whirlwind of the last few days, I am here because I have to tell you guys that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for this whole mess that I feel partly responsible for.

After the SPN finale, I was, like many of you, deeply upset. I was stunned that a show that it felt like we had followed so perfectly for four years wasn’t living up to what seemed to be the inevitable ending. I was genuinely shocked and horrified that we would be subjected to such a depressing message as “you cannot find happiness or peace unless you’re dead,” that free will is nothing but the freedom to choose your method of dying, or that the showrunners would have baited us so thoroughly with the Deancas storyline. I found it impossible to believe that they would wound a fanbase known primarily for being made up of queer people with mental health issues--people like myself, who literally struggle some days to find a will to keep living, who struggle to believe they are worthy of love--like this. I couldn’t believe that THIS was the story they had felt so strongly about telling, that THIS was the story they were going to tell after they painted this very ending as the horrible, hopeless, nefarious villain’s ending so early in the season.

I was so wounded. I spent all night sobbing on and off. I felt sick; I thought I was going to vomit. I was barely functional on Saturday and most of Sunday. I spoke with a couple of other fans just to try and get my head on right enough that I could take care of my work responsibilities on Monday.

And there were little bits of information about it all that just didn’t seem to fit, that didn’t sit right with me for any number of reasons. But rather than just accept that sometimes things don’t always make sense, I fell down the rabbit hole. I tried to make order out of what felt like absolute chaos. I wrote one lengthy post that really took off (I would ask you all to please stop reblogging it now, if you can) and another smaller one after the debacle of the Spanish-language dub that started last night, both attempting to piece together what I thought might have happened in a way that let me have hope and hang on to the vision of the show that I had believed so deeply in--a vision of happiness and love and family as a reward for fighting for years to retain one’s free will. A vision I have sorely, sorely needed this whole year, and honestly much longer.

But the truth was really there all along; I just didn’t want to accept it. I see that now, after the events of today, after spending time reading this post (thank you, btw, @teamfreewillbettertogether) and watching Misha’s video on Twitter. I was seeing what I wanted and needed to see, not what was there.

So I apologize to everyone that I gave false hope to. I apologize to everyone who read my posts and thought there might be any truth to them, to everyone I swept up in my nonsense. You all deserved better than a half-cocked conspiracy theory written by a frantic woman in the midst of emotional turmoil. And not that I ever expect them to see it, but I also want to sincerely apologize to the cast and crew who worked so hard on these last two episodes, only to have me shit on them because I couldn’t handle the reality of the situation.

I won’t lie, I am in a very, very raw place right now. I’m back to crying periodically and feeling sick to my stomach, and now I have the added shame of having put myself out there like a fool and of having pulled many of you into my vortex. And worst of all, I feel like I caused pain to the cast and crew with my ignorance, especially Misha. Let me tell you, there is nothing more awful than disappointing the person you look up to most in this world.

I don’t really know where I go from here. I don’t think I can let these characters or their story go, but I also don’t know how much I can engage with it right now either. I am very much for the idea of people writing the endings they wanted to this story, and for those who do, I will never stop cheering you on. This fandom is full of wonderful, creative, talented, passionate, loving people, and I love you all so much. Don’t let this finale or the accompanying disappointment steal that from you.

For me in this moment, however, I think I need to just apologize for the hurt that I have caused and try to step back so I can stabilize myself. I will probably still lurk on Tumblr in the coming days, but I won’t be reblogging much, if anything, at least not until I find an emotional equilibrium of some sort. In the meantime, keep up your chins, all. You’re a beautiful, brilliant, wonderful group of people, and I’m sorry for any pain I caused you.

#apology #spn finale #i love you guys #and I'm deeply sorry

7 notes · View notes

princessofgayskull · 4 years ago

Note

ik this isn't she-ra related but ur main blogs asks aren't open 😳😳 n e wey, thoughts on folklore?? i wanna hear ur favorite songs, favorite lines, any parts that gave u chills, all the good stuff

Someone asking me about Taylor Swift? Someone asking my thoughts about Taylor Swift?! Someone actually wanting to hear what I have to say about Taylor Swift? I feel like Entrapta back in season one when she was asked about her theories about Etheria and was she excited to show everyone her model.

Before I dive in, I want to apologize that it took me so long to get this to ask. I’ve been swamped trying to keep up with summer classes and I wrote several versions of this post only to have tumblr delete it and make me start over before I had the bright idea to write it on a google doc first so I didn’t lose all my work and that is the draft you are reading now! But, for authenticity reasons, after I saw this ask I scrambled to write what I could remember from my first album listen that took place at exactly 11pm (after I watched and cried to the cardigan video, of course). Here there are in note form:

I cannot believe that in the darkest timeline that Taylor Alison Swift dropped a surprise album with sixteen songs in an entirely different genre (the heart attack I had when I learned folklore was a genre shift; I cannot believe I doubted the song writing legend herself). The album has been out for a week and I kid you not the only reason I know I didn’t make it up or dream it is because this album is far more beautiful than I could’ve ever come up with. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve listened to it. Everything about the album- the lyrics, the topics, the genre, the production- speaks my language fluently. Even during the first listen I felt that I had somehow known these songs my whole life despite their raw newness.

This might read weird, but I think one of my favorite aspects about the album is how voyeuristic it feels to listen to. I don't mean sexually, but rather the way it feels like I don't have full permission to be looking at the lives of the people she is singing about. It's as if Taylor said, "I know you want to peek behind the curtain and see all my flaws" so she dives into these characters who are very flawed people and is so raw and honest as she takes their place saying almost "I will treat them like you treat me."

Yet at the same time, it's her most grounded album. There's something so shiny about pop music (I'm not knocking it, I love pop music, life's too short not to) but this is as if Taylor's pop mentality was left out in the rain and rusted. There's something so real and familiar about it. Like you can reach out and hold it in your hand.

It's venturing too far into the forest and stepping into another dimension and living in it for sixteen songs. A dimension of mysticism, nihilism, magic, and mistakes.

Here is my track-by-track list of favorite things/ chill moments/ awestruck moments.

the 1- WHAT AN ALBUM OPENER. This song rips my heart out and stomps on it. "You know the greatest loves of all time are over now" Why does lyric make me wanna break down and have the most cathartic cry? The defeated acceptance of it all is gut wrenching. "In my defense I have none" Taylor's turn it phrase on this album is brilliant and I aspire to this level of word cleverness.

cardigan- the slow buildup of this song pure magic. If you don't scream "Cause I knew everything when I was young!" at the top of your lungs when listening to this song, are you really a cardigan stan?

the last great american dynasty- F. Scott Fitzgerald who? No, I only know Miss Taylor Swift. Seriously, this song isn't even four minutes long and it's better than any novel written about the American dream. Also, "and then it was bought by me" Taylor you cannot just drop that bombshell on me without letting me get emotionally prepared.

exile ft. bon iver- a song crafted in heaven. Somehow it makes me both depressed and provides me serotonin. I can't get enough of the lyric "I'm not your problem anymore/ so who am I offending?" FUCK THAT'S GOOD. THE SONG IS SO GOOD. SMASH THAT REPEAT BUTTON. I could drown in this song.

my tears ricochet- by far my favorite on the album, and my favorite number five track. I don’t think there’s another Taylor Swift I relate to as much as this one. This hits a very, very close to a personal place for me. Right at the center of an open wound. And god, the build up. It just makes the emotional experience that more poignant. “And I can anywhere I want, anywhere I want, just not home.” I got chills the first time I listened to that lyric, and it brings tears to my eyes. Needless to say, I’ve had some good cries to this song.

mirrorball- this track is about as cutting as they come. The Imposter Syndrome anthem. It’s the “everything that comes from me has to be perfect, to make up for the fact that it’s from me” song. It’s the sense that nothing you do is worth doing if there’s no audience, yet the audience is the biggest threat. “I’ve never been a natural, I’ll do is try, try, try.” Yeah. There’s a reason this is the TS album I relate to the most.

seven- I keep saying these songs are so beautiful, but god, this one. Her vocals, the lyrics; in my opinion, a defining moment on the album. The driving home of the point that stories are important because we tell them. It’s a story plagued by a narrator who’s too young to understand and can only put the pieces together as she’s looking back. “And I’ve been meaning to tell you/ I think your house is haunted/ your dad is always mad and that must be why.” I almost can’t handle that. The loss of childhood innocence and the longing for it in just three minutes and twenty eight seconds.

august- “REMEMBER WHEN I PULLED UP AND SAID GET IN THE CAR AND THEN CANCELED MY PLANS JUST IN CASE YOU CALL/ BACK WHEN I WAS LIVING FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL, FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL/ MEET ME BEHIND THE MALL!” currently trying to learn this on guitar, which is fun because I’m not much of a singer. Also, I think that Betty and this girl should ditch James and date each other, if you’re of the interpretation that James is a cishet guy.

this is me trying- So I know that this is a song about a woman struggling with an alcohol addiction, but I really relate to this song because it just feels so much like my struggle with mental illnesses and the way my potential died so quickly because of that struggle. “I was so ahead of the curve/ the curve became a sphere/ fell behind all my classmates/ and I ended up here.” yep. that’s about it.

illicit affairs- again, the build up. “Don’t call me kid! Don’t call me baby! Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me!” Gotta scream that everytime. Also are we going to talk about the lines “Take the words for what they are/ a dwindling mercurial high/ a drug that only worked/ the first few hundred times” ? because I cannot stop thinking about it, or any of the lyrics for that matter.

invisible string-Joe Alwyn, do you know one of the most beautiful songs in history was written about you? I love the instrumental on this one. Also, it’s just flat out brilliant. “Bad was the blood of the song in the cab on your first trip to L.A” Holy shit. Also, “cold was the steel of my axe to grind for the boys who broke my heart/ now I send their babies presents.” You know what that is? Growth.

mad woman-while my tears ricochet takes the spot as my favorite, this is the Taylor Swift song I claim above all others. “Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy/ what about that?” This song is at the intersection, however coincidental, of my identity as a mentally ill woman. It’s also extreme vindication the way she calls out women acting as double agents of the patriarchy. A scathing criticism of patriarchal socialization and the way women are punished for reacting to anything.

epiphany- listen to this song after watching the news. lay down. assume fetal position. try not to cry. fail and sob. wash, rinse, repeat.

betty- the old taylor can’t come to the phone right now cause she’s chewing out james for cheating on betty. *wink* However, she will write a folksy banger that’s very old taylor where James takes accountability for their mistake. I love the wlw interpretations of the love triangle songs, and I also can totally see James as a he/him lesbian.

peace-the disembodied feel of this song is so unique to Taylor’s sound but I totally dig it! This is the album of a woman in her thirties, and I hope it paves the way to more women being able to stay within the industry getting older. There’s a maturity here that is the result of having created so many albums and having found her voice.

hoax- Time to go scream off the edge of a cliff in solidarity. An open closer that rivals the defeatism of the opener, a slow descent into madness that has followed a trauma. “You know it still hurts from scars from when they pulled me apart/ but what you did was just as dark/ darling, this was just hard/ as when they pulled me apart.” Literally no words. I’m always left speechless.

If you’ve ever thought “I like Taylor but I don’t like her music because she did country and now does pop” this is the album you need to take a chance on. I can only dream of one day possessing Taylor’s ability to tell stories and this album will stick with you in all the best ways. The reason Taylor Swift can genre jump the way she does so seamlessly is because of her unrivaled strength as a songwriter. Stream folklore on spotify!!!!!!!!!

This is probably much more than you asked for, but I hope it satisfies! Thank you for letting me gush about Taylor and this album!!!!!! Sorry it took me so freaking long! If you have thoughts, I would LOVE to hear them!

#AHHHHH SOMEONE LET ME TALK ABOUT TAYLOR I'M SO GRATEFUL AND I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE THIS #folklore #seriously i could write books about this album #I didn't even really write all my thoughts lol #tried to water em down #;)#seriously tho - stream folklore

18 notes · View notes

spnfanficpond · 5 years ago

Text

January Angel Fish Awards

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words.

The monthly Angel Fish Awards are peer-nominated, meaning ANYONE IN THE POND CAN NOMINATE ANY POND MEMBER’S FIC. While the Pond was founded to support the Guppies, everyone in this community deserves to be showered with love and feedback, and we hope that by opening this up as a Pond wide system, we’ll be able to share the love as far as it can go.

NOTE: WE’VE BEEN HAVING OCCASIONAL PROBLEMS WITH ASKS GOING MISSING. Please use the Submit button when submitting your nominations and make sure you’re signed into Tumblr or your URL won’t show. (If the form asks for your name and email address, then you’re not signed in.) If you like, you can also send a message to Michelle or Mana to check and make sure we got your submission.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE ARE THE FIRST ANGEL FISH AWARDS OF 2020!

Cabin Fever (a long oneshot) by @slytherkins was nominated three times!

I said all of this in my reblog, but this is FUCKING GOLD. It depicts life with chronic pain so beautifully, I read most of this with my heart in my throat. Have tissues, heed the warnings, but definitely read this! - @mrswhozeewhatsis

Tara is the Queen of Angst. She never fails to break my heart but this fic was something else entirely. I always feel like her stories could be canon and this is no exception!! Dean was exactly how I imagine he would be, Sam too. Without giving any spoilers: the scene setting - I was there, I could see them preparing dinner, sat around the table eating, I felt the coldness of the snow.

The raw emotions were sublime, I cried with Dean. I felt I could feel his pain, I was with him every step of the way, I felt his desperation. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. - @princessmisery666

O. M. G. I don’t expect anything less than incredible when I read Tara’s stuff, but this is on another level. The angst is painful (literally, sometimes), the detail is exquisite. She put heart and soul into this, and it shows. And as always, her Dean is spot-tf-on. Tara’s a brilliant writer, and this fic is amazing. ❤❤❤ - @risingphoenix761

Nominated by @manawhaat

Satin (oneshot) by @wingedcatninja

This fic has some out of the box, vulnerable, sexy, surprising Dean feels! I went into it expecting one thing and what I got was so different from what I could have imagined, but it was so wonderful and refreshing to read!

Next Year (series) by @wingedcatninja

Holy crap, the intensity and control in this fic is astounding. It’s so palpable from start to end and this is only the first fucking part. Seriously stellar and surprisingly reverential.

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

For Better or Worst (ongoing series) by @stunudo

There’s so much mystery and intrigue in this series and I just can’t stop wondering how it’s all going to work out! Sam made some kind of deal to save the world and the deal involved marrying this woman and getting out of hunting. But what was the deal, exactly? And where’s Dean? And who is this woman? What about Cas and Jack? I’m so freaking hooked and I can’t wait to find out!!

Nominated by @princessmisery666

Love You To Death (series) by @negans-lucille-tblr

I’ll be the first to admit I’m not into AU’s but this had me hooked from the beginning. I hate Y/N, I hope she gets whats coming to her, but I also so desperately want to be her, which is a testament to the wonderful writing of both Lisa and Bee. I can’t wait to see how this one unfolds.

These two together are a force to be reckoned with.

Nominated by @deanwinchesterswitch

One And One Make Three (series) by @supernatural-jackles

This series was absolutely stunning, beautifully written, and an amazing rollercoaster of emotion. Jen handled some very sensitive subject matters with grace and wit. It has ALL the feels; I cried, laughed, and loved right along with the characters.

Nominated by @flamencodiva

Skeptics and True Believers (series) by @d-s-winchester

I love this story! It had me on the edge of my seat when I read through the master list. the way she wove the story together made me happy for the ending to the story!

Good Things (series) by @crashdevlin

This is Part one to four parts of writing GOLD! Cassie knows how to completely put you in the story and envision what is happening.

How Do You Spell Forever? (series) by @kittenofdoomage

This is part one of a four parter and OMG! Can I say that this is sweet and cute and full of A/B/O goodness? because this is! and it should be read and shared!

Nominated by @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish

Heathens (series) by @pink1031

Why: I have been 1000000% hooked on this story since the first chapter was published. It’s a little bit twisted, a little bit wrong, a whole lot dirty, and a whole lot of amazing writing! At the time of this submission, the last chapter is in progress (don’t get me started on the fact that it’s ending D:). It is without a doubt, one of the few stories I stop what I am doing (life permitting) and read the new chapter when I get notified. READ THE WARNINGS CAREFULLY THOUGH, this is not a story for the faint of heart or those that get squicked out (is that even a term?). But if you like dark and dirty, this fic will absolutely be your jam.

Nominated by @risingphoenix761

My Home (oneshot) by @kittenofdoomage

Short and sweet, but it got me all choked up. To repeat what I said in tags, bless this fic and the hands that typed it.

Feels Like The First Time (oneshot) by @stusbunker

This gets better every time I reread it. Sweet and sexy and kinda touching. Any time I need a Samwitch fix, I come back to this one. ❤

Nominated by @lovetusk ( @fictionalabyss )

Turning Into Butter (oneshot) by @thing-you-do-with-that-thing

Lets be honest with this one, shall we? We’d ALL get that distracted by a half naked Dean.

Please Don’t Go (oneshot) by @sorenmarie87

Dawn tested out her Angsting abilities in this Adam x Reader fic, and I’m hoping we get to see more of it. Like why is Dean so angry? I NEED TO KNOW!

Someone You Loved (oneshot) by @ne-gans

So glad ne-gans is now part of the pond because now I can nominate this beautiful thing that made me cry.

Nominated by @impala-dreamer

Stupor (oneshot) by @dontshootmespence

The hottest hot to ever hot in the hottest way possible - SOULLESS!DOM!SAM!! I ded. Very hot. Much smut. Very good.

Hurt So Good (oneshot) by @alleiradayne

This was tasty. Pun intended. I have such a biting thing and Sam would be so amazing. Yes. Devour me, Winchester!! Loved it.

Nominated by @thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters

Isn’t That My Line (oneshot) by @princessmisery666

I went into this one intrigued by the concept and I got even more than I was hoping for. A little twist I didn’t expect here, a perfect ending there. Amazing.

Control And Release (series) by @thecleverdame

I just needed to bring this one back. Started rereading the entire series and it’s still as amazing as the first time I read this masterpiece.

Photographs and Gasoline (oneshot) by @ne-gans

Always gotta check the new pond member list when I’m making my rounds. Found this fic and fell in love. It’s absolutely heartbreaking but I loved every second of it. Guess if I have to torture myself, I prefer to do it with beautiful writing like this.

Nominated by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Smokes and Sex Toys (oneshot) by @wayward-and-worn

This is delightfully fucking filthy. But that’s not all; Dean’s characterization is SO DEAN - flirty yet straightforward - it reminded me of the scene with the bartender in Defending Your Life, I love the simple yet creative premise, and I adore that it’s left open-ended.

Sick Day - @fangirlxwritesx67

Viv wrote this for me - it’s true - but that isn’t the reason I’m nominating this; it’s because this is so warm and comfortable and just feels like Dean. Like I actually felt like I was in his lap while I feel asleep reading this. (Also, check out my girl’s other works. She’s fairly new but balls to the wall and bursting with ideas and words for just about anyone.)

Nominated by @slytherkins

Isn’t That My Line (oneshot) by @princessmisery666

Short. Sinful. Sexy. It’s like a smutty snack that hits the spot. (And so does Dean.)

Nominated by @kittenofdoomage

What Goes Bump In The Night (series) by @saxxxology

A phenomenal series, historic and dark, with all the fantastic detail you’d expect from Saxxy and more! Please heed the warnings though!

The World Doesn’t Know (oneshot) by @negans-lucille-tblr

A wonderful little smutty J2 fic, for those who enjoy that fantasy.

Marked (series) by @there-must-be-a-lock

I’ve only read the first chapter so far, but hot damn! This is a spectacular start to a promisingly dark series. AND The Right Spot - a smutty smutty follow up to another oneshot that literally made me sweat.

Just Like A Pill by @princessmisery666

The angsty sequel to In Spite Of What My Heart Says and you should totally read both parts, just keep tissues by you in case of heartbreak!

Nominated by @focusonspn

House Of The Rising Sun (series) by @kittenofdoomage

I’ve never liked BDSM themes too much but, OH MY GOOD!! This series is AMAZING!! It even has a sequel: The Ones You Love. Go and read it, you won’t regret it.

Yes, Sir (series) by @evansrogerskitten

Ash must be tired of me praising this fic but I can’t help myself, it’s one of my favorite series ever and deserves this recognition. This is a series that every John girl out there should be reading RIGHT NOW. It has everything! Smut, fluff and a tiny bit of angst and drama.

Good Vibrations (series) by @impala-dreamer

At first I wasn’t sure if I should bring this fic here because all the drama I heard it existed about it but, then I thought it twice, and I came to the conclusion that this fic definitely deserve to be part of these awards. This piece of writing was the first (after Dear John, I have to admit) that actually made me cry. It’s dark, it’s sad as fuck, it’s damn well written, and makes you easily get inside the characters and feel what they’re feeling. That being said, if you’re thinking of reading it, please HEED THE WARNINGS.

Take a Drunk Girl Home (oneshot) by @amanda-teaches

This fic is so beautiful and so well written that I promise you even can end up tearing up a little, but it’s so worth it that you won’t care a bit.

Nominated by @emilyshurley

His Property (series) by @negans-lucille-tblr

I freaking love this series to the point that i binged the series (and it’s sequel, Yours) in a single day.

Just Me & My Baby (oneshot) by @deanwinchesterswitch

Can’t get over how adorable it is.

Guns and Ribbons (series) by @myinconnelly1

What can I say Dean Winchester deserves all the love in this world and so does this series.

I Can See Clearly Now (oneshot) by @katehuntington

I can’t. I don’t have words. This is perfection.

In the Heat of the Night (series) by @evansrogerskitten

Nominated by @impalaimagining

Goals (oneshot) by @atc74

Okay. It's been a long time since I've found Sam smut that really gets me into it. This though - it's a whole different level of wonderful. I love the way it explores a woman finding and embracing her own sexuality, and the frustration that can come along with it. It's obvious how much effort and research and actual planning went into this. My favorite kinds of fics are those that draw from real life experiences, which I think it what makes this one so special. And the end? Yes please!

Nominated by @fangirlxwritesx67

Everything (series) by @there-must-be-a-lock

I can’t even talk about how great this J2 x reader series is without incoherent fangirl flailing. It’s wildly creative, sharply well written, and absolutely panty-melting filthy! And then just when you’re so hot and bothered that you can’t see straight, *boom*, it’s sweet and intimate and loving. I don’t think there’s a series out there I’ve read this many times!

Hark and Hush by @thoughtslikeaminefield

This is a luscious, dark and twisted fairy tale about Dean and the spirit of the Big Bad Wolf. It’s written so vividly that you can see and smell and taste the whole story. Sexy af, of course, and so intense- take the warnings seriously!

The Kind of Girl You Like (series) by @thoughtslikeaminefield

To me, MJ will always be the Queen of the Winchester threesome and this series shows exactly why. Smoking hot story about the brothers sharing a sub that quickly unfolds into something complex and beautiful. The last chapter especially is written with so much emotional depth- the first time I read it, I was swearing and crying and smiling all at once because it was so well done! Just the best!

Nominated by @supersassyprobablysad

How You & I Will Be (series) by @katehuntington

Hey so I wanted to do an angel fish award nom for Kate for her How You & I Will Be fic. In 5 parts she not only developed believable characters but by the end I was ugly crying (and I don’t cry a lot so that’s saying something). The ending feels totally necessary too, not like it was just done for shock value. Anyway I love it, it’s the best I’ve read in a long time.

Thank you all for the awesome work and great feedback!

As with the BFAs, these are not actual awards! This system is set up so everyone in the pond has a chance to share the love and promote a fic/author that has grabbed your attention. The more people that participate, and the more everyone remembers to submit their own fics after posting, the better this will be :D

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

#afa masterlist #angel fish awards #spnfanficpond #spn fic rec #spn fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction #fan fic #fanfic #spn fan fiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #fic rec #supernatural fic rec #spn fan fic

80 notes · View notes

s-ultry · 5 years ago

Text

please me - a tom holland fanfic

CHAPTER FIVE

A/N: so i decided that i’d move my fanfic from wattpad to tumblr! just to give me a bit of a boost to continue it, i hope you guys enjoy!

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter six

SUMMARY: when the billionaire meets the microbiologist.

sugardaddy!tom

Previously on Please Me

"No one can glance at you, without going through me. You are mine, do you understand."

***

(warning: topics about attempt rape, mental abuse, and tease extreme! i should really stop warning yall about this smh)

Belle couldn't stop thinking about the encounter she had the day before, the way his wickedness made her fall in terror hoping to never experience or even encounter the abuse again.

The beauty was getting ready for her second day of work, yeah it was a Saturday, but being an assistant to Tom Holland is something that'll never allow vacations. Today, she was wearing a black turtleneck with a brown pencil skirt paired with the same kitten heels. Belle decided to let her hair be straight, her natural hair.

Walking down the stairs, she laid eyes on her mother who was negotiating terms with her father, knowing it was significant, she allowed her quiet self to enter the kitchen without intruding.

"Belle, sweetie, we'd like to talk to you," her father smiled at her, his expression true and raw. Whilst her mothers were in a deep bore, fake and nothing unusual to Belle.

"Yes, Father?"

"Mr. Holland called us not too long ago," Demitri spoke making Belle's throat hitch, her heartbeat growing quicker and quicker by the minute. "He asked us if you'd like to go on a little field trip with him to his other headquarters. Knowing that you're his assistant I must say you're obliged to go, but he wanted to make sure you were okay with it first," her father continued.

"Oh, well. Um, how long am I going to be gone?"

"You'll be back tomorrow night, Belle. Luna already packed for you last night whilst you were studying in the library."

Remember when I told you that Belle's family aren't stupid rich? Jokes on you! Belle's family were extremely rich but wanted to stay humble and not waste their money on childish items that had no value.

"Oh, okay. Thank you," she sincerely glanced at her mother, only to be returned with a fake one in return.

"Mr Holland will be here any minute, help yourself to some breakfast," her mother announced placing a plate in front of her youngest daughter. Belle may look tiny, but her appetite is three times larger than her.

To busy indulging her pancakes she didn't realise the familiar figure standing next to her, watching her stuff her mouth like a two-year-old. Belle choked on her pancakes, carefully swallowing it her boss had a slight grin on his face.

"Morning," she muffled as the piece of pancakes was still in her mouth.

"I didn't know you had such a huge appetite," he smirked as her parents continued discussing matters that didn't need to be interfered. He was wearing his usual tuxedo, but the coat nowhere to be found along with his tie. Two buttons undone from his white dress shirt made Belle's blush grow deep.

"Well, now you know. When are we to leave?"

"Now, actually. The jet's waiting for us to reach LA," the Britt checked his wristwatch to calculate the time, knowing their departure is soon, they head out of the house and bid their goodbyes.

The car drive was surrounded with comfortable silence, both of them sipping of their ice coffees that Belle made at home with two of her to go cups.

"Belle, I'd like to ask you something," Mr. Holland disrupted her thoughts, allowing her to look at him with full concern.

"Are you uncomfortable with me talking to Timothy Grey, and be honest, baby."

"Sir, I don't have the right to tell you who to hang out with. If you feel like he's good to you, then hang out with him. I have no word into this," she whispered as she cringed at the name, but loved the pet name.

He intertwined his fingers with hers, an action that made her heart flutter as he gently kissed her knuckles. "Of course you have word into this, doll. You're my partner, and whatever happened or even happens to you, goes through me."

Her boss was awaiting her response, her not knowing how to respond, she stayed silent like she always did when she had nothing to say.

"Your silence is telling a whole lot, darling," he lightly chuckled. Belle still didn't know what to say, or how to say it. Just the awful memories replaying in her head like a rollercoaster.

"What did I tell you, Belle. Always be honest with me, I wouldn't want my baby to be filled with negative thoughts," the car came to a stop signalling that they were at the airport.

"On the plane?" Belle whispered in which he nodded to. He let go of her hand to get out of the car, as she placed her hand on the handle, the door opened to Mr. Holland offering his hand.

"Don't worry, it's a private airport."

They made their way up the stairs and were greeted by the pilot of the plane ushering them to take a seat and to get comfortable, the assistant and the boss sat opposite of each other.

After the gruesome experience of the departure and a half an hour left of their flight, Belle thought it was finally time to speak to Mr. Holland, in details, on what Tim Grey did to her.

"He cheated on me, but I never told you why." This grabbed her boss' attention as he studied her features, how her face dropped but still glowed.

"He cheated on me because he wanted to take my virginity, I never allowed him to. Tim called me a prude, too innocent for this bad world. I was only 16, I didn't want to be taken that early, especially by him. Yes, he was my boyfriend. But, everyone wanted to know whether the famous quarterback took the popular girl's virginity at prom." Belle glanced at Mr. Holland to see him infuriated to the point that anger was jealous of him.

"H-He cheated on me with Erika, your former assistant, and her friends. I yelled at him in the middle of our senior prom but knowing that dick, he enjoyed most of it. After that, he met me outside, attempting to rape me. But, t-thankfully, Antoni came to my rescue. He took me home, washed me up, and tucked me into bed. Weeks after that, graduation came. They posted a photo of me crying and bruised up from that night on Instagram and it went viral, my own principals were laughing at me. The only person who truly cared about me was my Antoni," she continued not daring any tears to fall.

"S-So when I saw him with you, I felt aggravated. You didn't know what he did to me at the time, you were just meeting an old friend. He comes for everything and everyone I love and care about, changed my parent's perspective on me, even my older brother. I studied the hardest subject not only because I'm interested, but also because I have an excuse to get away from the world," Belle looked down in shame.

The beauty didn't notice her boss kneeling down in front of her, placing both of his hands on her knees grabbing her attention.

"Please tell me there isn't any more, sugar."

"No."

"I'm going to beat up that son of a bitch, he really has a death wish doesn't he," Mr. Holland got up, furiously making his way to his seat. Buckling the belt meant that they were landing, and knowing Mr. Holland, that belt won't stop him one bit.

"It's not your fight, Sir. You don't need to put my stress on your shoulders," she whispered looking at him, at the side she saw how the plane already was on the ground and she had no anxiety what so ever.

"But, I have to," he demanded unbuckling her seat belt and grasping her hand with love and anger.

Belle hated when people fought for her, yes she was grateful, but she was strong enough to fight on her own. She wanted him to be quiet, and listen to her. So, she grabbed both of his hands and placed them on her waist, her arms snaking around his neck.

Belle got on her tiptoes making her lips close to his ear, he zapped shut, her knowing exactly what she was doing to him. "Is this the only way I'm going to get your attention, daddy," she tried her hardest not to laugh at the nickname.

He groaned in pleasure as she made eye contact with him, both pretty brown eyes staring at each other, both drowning in the chocolate factories that are their eyes. "Listen to me, don't fight for me. I can fight on my own, I've done it for three years, what makes you think I can't do it now?" She smirked letting go, walking triumphantly away from him she felt a force of her back colliding with his strong chest.

"Do that one more time, little girl. I swear to you, your beautiful cheeks will be redder than the ones on your pretty face," he whispered seductively in her ear making her lips part, a whine escaping her delicate lips.

Another car ride in one of his many cars was surrounded by sexual tension, after what he had told her, she had a knot inside of her. Looking at the beautiful scenery of Los Angeles from the window, she saw how the palm trees stood high and superior. She saw the Hollywood Sign, Belle saw it all as though she was watching a movie.

Her eyes scan a beautiful black building with windows filling every single box, Holland Industries stood high with a beautiful garden on the side, as though it was a house rather than an office. Damn, whoever took care of this building is doing a great job, she thought positively.

They entered the private parking, the car stopping at a reserved parking and Mr. Holland opened the door for his assistant. As they made their way inside, her boss slithered his arm around her waist, pulling her close. All eyes were on them, and all Belle could think of is how embarrassing it must be to have your boss' arm around your waist, he wasn't even thinking of it!

They made their way to the top floor, it was very familiar to the one they had back home which comforted Belle. She spoke to her boss about a few meetings he had to attend to back home but soon was stopped by a squeal.

"Mr. Holland! Tommy," the light caramel-skinned beauty ran up to Mr. Holland almost tackling him with full force.

"Hello to you too, Tabitha."

"Why are you making my name sound so formal, dumb ass! Oh my god! You must be Belle, did she sign the contract," she whispered walking them into the main office. Belle was just in awe, does she have the contract too? How does she know Mr. Holland? Why is Tabitha's boss so hot?

"Hello, I'm Sebastian Stan. You must be Belle, we've heard so much about you," he introduced himself snapping her out of her thoughts and how they were panicking.

"Oh, yes I am. Good afternoon Mr. Stan," she shook his hand.

"Tom, my man! We have much to discuss!" Mr. Stan announced allowing Tabitha and Belle to be alone on the other side of the office whilst their bosses went to the meeting table to discuss further agreements.

"I know I'm getting excited, but please have a seat! Tell me all about you!" The dark-haired brunette ushered Belle to the couch.

"W-Well, my name's Belle Lorems."

"Duh, we know that! Get to the juicy part! How'd you meet Tom, or what went through your mind when you signed The Contract" the short brown haired Latina exclaimed wanting her to spill everything.

"Wait a minute, are we thinking about the same contract?" Belle questioned Tabitha leading the girl opposite of her to burst into tears of laughter.

"Of course, silly! The contract where there are rules on what to call them, no masturbation, and only they can please you? I'll tell you one thing, B. Those to guys over there are really close, so close they can be boyfriends," the Latina smiled as the Italian's jaw dropped.

"You thought you were alone, sis? Hell no! Lemme give you a background, Tom and I grew up together basically siblings because our parents were so close. Then, when I was 18, I visited Holland Industries and met the love of my life, and my new boss, Mr. Sebastian-fuck me sideways- Stan! What about you, princess," she winked as she completed her very short summary on how she met Sebastian.

"Well, my dad works with Mr. Holland. So, I study as a microbiologist at the University of New York. I am 19 years of age, and my family hate me."

"Bro, you sound like an Instagram post that people relate to, shit," Tabitha spoke making both girls roar in laughter as they drank their lemonades they got a while back.

"Looks like our girls are bonding," a voice unannounced boomed throughout the office making both assistants try their hardest not to laugh at their bosses' solemn faces.

"Look at their faces," Belle screeched and fell on Tabitha's lap. Tears forming around her eyes whilst her now best friend hushed her but couldn't contain themselves.

"Tabby you ruined her!" Mr. Holland's voice rung with a slight smile on his face.

"Whatever, she's my best friend now!"

After a beautifully crafted memory, they all went outside and the boss and assistant of Los Angeles escorted the New York team to their very fancy hotel. Bidding their goodbyes, well Belle bidding her awful long goodbye to Tabby in the lobby, they went to the highest floor.

Mr. Holland opened the door allowing Belle to walk in, staring in awe she admired the 19th century decorated suite. Gold embellishments, light beige walls, and couches with separate rooms. One to the master bedroom, whilst the other was some sort of clash between a gym and an office.

"I'm going to take a shower," she softly spoke making her way to the master bathroom. Yet again, the bathroom was beautiful yet modern, unlike the main seating area. She stripped, walking into the shower the hot water pleasured her senses. Lathering herself with shampoo and body wash, she made her way out to the bedroom praying that her boss wouldn't be there.

To her luck, he was nowhere to be found. Belle let out a sigh of relief as she unzipped her suitcase, it dawned upon her that Luna had packed her suitcase for her, meaning all of what's in there is lingerie from her last shopping trip with her boss, and no pyjamas!

"Okay, Belle. We have to be confident, go and ask him if you can borrow a shirt or something like that," she whispered to herself walking to the office. Belle faintly knocked the door twice awaiting his approval to enter, once she heard it she twisted the doorknob.

"Sir," she asked in a hushed tone, her head peeking out whilst the rest of her body was covered by the mahogany wooden door.

"You can come in, Belle."

"B-But I can't."

"And why is that?"

"I just took a shower, and my sister forgot to pack me some pyjamas. I was wondering if I could borrow a shirt for tonight?" Belle replied, knowing exactly which territory she's in.

"I didn't hear your question, love. Come in, ask me again," she saw his lips laced with a smirk, how his voice was suddenly rougher, and how his eyes were fixed on her.

Belle was dumbfounded, how she had to enter in only a towel in front of her boss. But, now there's no going back. She opened the door slightly, slipping her wet body into the office with a deep red tint along her cheeks. The boss bit his lip, raking her body from head to toe.

"What was your question, babydoll?" Mr. Holland questioned licking his lips slowly making her glance at them every millisecond.

"M-May I please borrow a shirt, my sister packed me lingerie rather than comfy PJs," the beauty stared at the floor not making contact with the eyes that are burning through her.

"Why don't you want to wear them, sugar," she heard him get up from his seat, waltzing towards her with confidence. He then looked down at her, noticing how she doesn't make contact with him. Mr. Holland delicately placed his index finger under her chin, lifting it in order to meet with his favourite pair of eyes.

"I'm not comfortable with wearing such clothes in front of you, Sir."

"Anything you want, sweetheart. Don't be ashamed, I'm ready when you are," he smiled as she exhaled a breath of relief.

"My suitcase was next to yours," the brunette announced. He then moved his mouth towards her ears making her grasp onto her towel even harder.

"Next time, you don't need to ask. Anything that's mine is yours," he whispered in her ear making her jaw drop slightly.

"I-I'm going to sleep on the couch," Belle spoke abruptly moving away from him.

"No, love. You're sleeping on the bed, end of discussion," he demanded making her gulp nervously, so this is his dominant side? Belle then blinked at him, as though a lost puppy awaiting its owner. Mr. Holland's dominant tone forced her to stop fighting, she was really selfless he thought.

"Goodnight, Sir."

"Goodnight, little girl."

finally updated yesss

- a

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel smut #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker smut #spiderman imagine #spiderman #spiderman smut #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut

166 notes · View notes

cilldaracailin · 4 years ago

Text

Another One Bites The Dust

Hello all my lovely Tumblr’s. I am back with the next part of the series of Robyn and Taron. It’s just a little one shot and follows on from where A Kind Of Magic left.

Hope you all enjoy :)

“Sometimes you meet a person and you just click--you're comfortable with them, like you've known them your whole life and you don't have to pretend to be anyone or anything.”

Two days after Taron had arrived home, with help from Lyndsey, he had made his press release from the comfort of his own sitting room in his home in Aberystwyth without his hat, all of his injuries on full show. Lyndsey had asked him to do so, showing that his slight disappearance had actually been for a reason, letting everyone see that he had actually been seriously injured. He read Robyn’s words along with his own, explaining briefly what had happened in the 7/11 and how his life had been saved by the quick thinking of Robyn, who selfishly came to his aid. He clarified that he would be fine and was under strict medical instructions to rest and take care of himself.

He also mentioned how filming for Kingman had been halted but would pick up when he had returned to full health and was able to film. Mathew had explained to Taron that the delay in filming shouldn’t push back the release date and he would make sure the film was released as planned as the end of April, meaning none of Taron’s press schedule had to be changed either and Taron had mentioned that in his statement too, as he knew it would be a question that would be hanging in the air if he didn’t address it. Taron had only filled everyone in on the necessary details of the last three weeks, not including anything about where he had been or who he had been with, keeping his secret getaway with Robyn completely undisclosed. Taron then asked for his privacy to be respected as well as Richard’s and Robyn’s and for everyone to understand that what they had experienced was still very raw and fresh for them and they were both still coming to terms with the whole ordeal.

He knew the story of the truth of what happened to him was going to be a headliner but he had not expected the newspapers to actually run with the truth and not try to twist the story too much. ‘Egerton on the edge of life’ and ‘Taron’s still standing’ were some of Robyn’s favourite’s and she had to find the articles online to actually read them as Taron refused to send her the English newspapers. The Irish equivalent of the tabloids weren’t as interested in Taron as the English ones and she wasn’t travelling into Dublin to get them from the big bookstore so had to find other ways to read the articles and stories that appeared after Taron’s statement. She was relieved to see that they were factual and used quotes directly from Taron’s own press release and of course her words too and her name was written right beside his, as the woman who had performed the CPR that saved his life.

Robyn had been incredibly proud of how Taron had handled his press statement and called him once he had made it, to reassure him that he had done the right thing and talk him off a ledge he was teetering on. She was worried about the backlash from the media for Taron’s sake as he had been almost making himself sick with the apprehension after his video was circulated but he was taking the attention really well and twenty four hours after he had made his statement, he wasn’t as stressed as she thought he was going to be about it and with constant support from his family, friends and Robyn herself, Taron was relieved with the positive outcome from the story

One paper tried to run with a version of how Robyn was stalking Taron and followed him from the set in New York to Florida, while another said she only did what she did to try and get into his pants. Robyn had calmed Taron down when he called her to vent by explaining to him that technically he did end up in her bed and his laughter filled the air as she pacified his annoyance and once the next edition of the paper was printed, those stories were long forgotten.

After meeting some reporters outside his home for the first few days, the news quickly changed to some other celebrity gossip and he had peace from hidden photographers and immoral journalists who snooped around his mams house too. Taron was delighted to hear that Robyn had very little fallout from the news too other than her family and friends wanting to know if the story that filtered across the ocean to her was true. Taron was so thankful that Robyn’s home country newspapers and magazines were not concerned with gossip and stories of the nonsense that came with his job and he felt slightly foolish for panicking so much in her bedroom three weeks ago and was so appreciative that everyone was extremely supportive of her in her work too.

Robyn had encountered two reporters at her gate who had travelled from the UK to try and track her down but she had actually stood at her gates and had a conversation with them and the story printed just confirmed Taron’s words and appeal for their privacy. Taron was furious with her at first for talking to the reporters but she had angrily shouted at him down the phone that turning them away was only going to ruin the hard work Lyndsey had already done to appease the media and it had done no harm to either of them. She was so angry with him, she had hung up the phone, Taron ringing back immediately with an apology. She accepted it but firmly told him she was a grown woman who could handle herself and if he didn’t realise that after what they had been through then he needed to get it through his thick skull very quickly. A bunch of flowers had been delivered to her work the next day with a card that read ‘I am sorry chicken’ along with a picture he had drawn of a rocket with stick man inside.

What had really helped Taron and Robyn with their luck was the fact that the video footage from what happened in the 7/11 had been leaked onto the internet four days after Taron’s statement and although it terrified Taron at first, it had only worked further in their favour as the media and fans actually got to see a first-hand real account of Taron being shot and knocked unconscious by the shelf as well as Robyn administer CPR on him. Taron hadn’t been able to watch that part of the video feed at first and it had really upset him mam when she saw it and then he had to watch it back for himself. Once the footage showed the seriousness of their situation, the media had almost backed off realising that Taron Egerton had nearly lost his life but was saved thanks to a stranger who was now a firm friend of his. It completely changed the emotional charge of the story and those journalists who had cheapened the story, wrote a more suited article about the footage, praising Robyn, Taron and Richard for their endurance and strength through it all.

The three had managed to get two quick skype calls together but with Richards work commitments in Chicago and the time difference, they had lasted only about ten minutes each. It was just enough time for them to talk over the lack of fall out from the media and ensure they weren’t frazzled by the papers and online platforms. Another promise had been made between them to meet up properly in person once they could arrange it to suit all of them. With Richard in the middle of filming, he had very little free time and it was unlikely their meeting would be before the year was out, especially with Taron going to back his own filming in the near future. Robyn was just as busy as them, her work schedule filling up fast and it only got busier for her the closer it got to the end of the year. They had to be satisfied with the few quick chats they had as a trio and were happy to have them rather than no contact at all.

Taron’s words and video had spread over social media initially like wild fire and Robyn took to twitter to inspect the damage the news has caused despite Taron’s desperate protests but with an ocean between them he couldn’t stop her. She had scrolled through many threads, posts and comments reading with delight, shock and horror at the words written. While the replies under his Instagram pictures he had posted of the rainbow cake and him posing with the stuffed dinosaur were positive and welcoming, once Taron’s name had been associated with her, a female woman, the attitude of some of the fans had changed and they tried to call Robyn out on stalking Taron, using the happenings in the 7/11 as a way to only get closer to him. However, despite the few negative comments, the majority of the fans had been supportive and grateful and even more so when the video recordings had leaked, most who had made a little fun of what had happened, quickly editing or adding a new comment to thank Robyn for what she did for him. However of course there was the one percent who had to be extremely nasty. After a while, Taron caved and skimmed through the judgements people had made about them and what had happened and had called Robyn every time to apologise each time he read one he found that was particularly upsetting for him.

“I am sorry about that comment Robyn.”

“If you say I am sorry once more Taron, I am going to catch a flight over to you and hold my hands so tight over your mouth to stop you from apologising to me, you won’t even be able to lick me.”

“I am sorry!”

“Funny and nice try.”

“So, when are you coming to visit me then?” He asked after Robyn had scolded him and he smiled when he heard her sigh. “Ok don’t cut me off. I just want to make sure you haven’t been reading every comment on Twitter and everywhere else. You really don’t need to be doing that.”

“Of course I have. I am making a list of who I am going to get you to write a strongly worded letter to.”

“Robyn!” Taron wished she was beside him so he could scowl at her.

“Taron you need to stop worrying about it all.”

“I know you are big girl and you can look after yourself but I do worry and I will worry and I always will worry about you.”

“If you think one little foul comment about me giving you the breathes being compared to kissing and used as an excuse just to kiss you, which by the way we actually have done, twice, is going to make me run away from what happened and our friendship, then your fans are going to have to come at me with something a little more imaginative.”

“Don’t even tempt them Robyn.”

She laughed and could imagine him frowning at her. “Maybe I should post the picture we took together at the piano on my Instagram.”

“Don’t you even dare.”

“But if it is a private one…”

“It will take about two minutes before it goes viral. I am just glad that footage in the 7/11 couldn’t be zoomed in.”

“They already know what I look like Taron.”

“Yeah I know.”

“And don’t get pissed off about it. I am not having this conversation again and again and again. It is what it is and it has been supportive and positive. Now what you need to do seeing as how it has been a week since the statement release and it has already completely mellowed out, is get into bed with a cup of tea and get some proper sleep.”

“My mam has been talking to you.”

“Of course she has.” Once Tina was able to compose herself after she watched the video footage, she was on the phone to the Robyn, thanking her once more for what she did for her son. “She has been telling me all about your time at home. I think I need to send cwtch to you to help you sleep.”

She could hear him smile on the other end of the phone but the tone of his voice was down. “It’s just been a bit stressful Robyn.”

“I know Taron but like I said, a week has passed and everything has calmed down. You can actually put your head down and get some sleep, some decent sleep.”

“Cosy in the duvet sleep?”

“Yeah that kind of sleep. You need to make sure you keep resting Taron.”

“I will and don’t raise that one eyebrow at me.” Taron might not have been able to her, but he knew her left eyebrow was raised in a perfect unapproving look. “I promise. Tonight, I will do my best to try and get a decent night’s sleep.”

“That’s all I can ask for Taron.”

It was Robyn who phoned him when he posted the picture two weeks later on his Instagram of the key lime pie he had made. ‘Learning new skills while I rest up’ was the caption he had written under the photo along with a love heart and chicken emoji.

“A chicken?”

“Well I had to get the nod to you in there somehow!” He laughed as he sat on his mam’s couch, with his sisters either side of him. He had wanted to bake something for his mam as even though he had insisted he stayed at his own home, she visited him every day and had made him many dinners he could freeze and re-heat. Once all the craziness of the media relaxed and he was able to catch up on much needed sleep, he wanted to repay his mam for all her kindness. Her hug had hurt him dreadfully when he got home but he didn’t dare let go and it was an extremely tearful reunion, his step-dad hugging him just as tight and Tina had been almost hounding him lovingly every day making sure he was resting, sleeping and eating. Taron brought the book Robyn had made with him over to his mam’s house and used the recipe she had wrote out for him for the key lime pie to make one in his childhood kitchen much to the amusement of his family. Tina was very interested in the book he was given as a present, and had hugged her son hard around his waist with one arm as she looked through it, laughing at the pictures of his and Robyn’s antic’s and giving him a kiss on his forehead when she got to the picture near the end where Robyn was leaning on his chest with her hand on his heart. Mari and Rosie had insisted that they sat together with him so he could talk to them about the book too and he had answered Robyn’s call as they drooled over the pictures of the rainbow cake. “My mam liked the pie by the way.”

“You do realise that if you keep posting chicken emoji’s someone is going to see a pattern of chicken emoji’s and wonder what on earth they mean.”

“They are just chicken emoji’s.”

“Who uses a bloody chicken emoji Taron?”

“I do and my mam loved how I baked a whole pie by myself.”

“Ok so let’s avoid the subject and I see my thorough instructions worked in your favour.”

“Very helpful.” He agreed. “Robyn I am going to put you on speaker. My sisters want to talk to you.” Taron’s sisters had hugged him tight when he arrived home and even though their arms squeezed his ribs painfully hard, he couldn’t ask them to let go. The arms were warm and comforting around him. They had questioned why his head had a big cut on it and both placed a kiss on his forehead to help make it better, Taron cuddling them both into him for a long time as he knelt on the doorstep of his mam’s house.

“Hey Robyn!” The girls called.

“Hello girls.”

“Robyn did Taron really make that cake in the book you gave him?” Asked Mari.

“He sure did.”

“And he really did throw flour at you.” Confirmed Rosie.

Robyn laughed. “I told you he was being a little bit naughty Rosie.” After speaking with his young siblings a few times on the phone over the past few weeks, she could easily tell their voices apart from each other now.

“We love the book you made for him.” She said. “You had a lot fun with Taron.”

“We did have a lot of fun.” Agreed Robyn.

“The girls want to know if cwtch can come and visit us.” Taron chipped in. “But I told them that he didn’t have a passport.”

“Taron teddy bears don’t need passports.” Laughed Rosie.

“Rosie cwtch is not a bear. He is a dinosaur.” Corrected her younger sister.

“Well dinosaurs don’t need passports either.” Rosie replied.

“Cwtch doesn’t really like airplanes.” Said Robyn.

“Told you.” Replied Taron as he watched the girls flick through the book to try and find the pictures of the plush Robyn had stuck in.

“Yes you did.” Robyn replied knowing Taron’s words were for her. She had wanted him to bring cwtch home with him but he had refused saying that his sisters would want him and how right he was.

“Taron you really loved cuddling him.” Said Rosie as she found the picture where Taron was asleep on Robyn’s bed with the dinosaur in his arms. “Robyn did you really let Taron sleep in your bed?” She asked.

“Should I not have?” Robyn asked back.

“No I am glad you let him. Mam said that we have to let Taron sleep just like you did. It is what the doctor says he had to do. Mari and I gave him one of our bears to cuddle but I think he just needs cwtch to help him sleep.”

“Oh, he does, does he? Rosie has Taron been sleeping in his bed?”

“In our house no. In his house sometimes. Mam has been telling him he needs to stop drinking coffee and sleep.”

“Taron…”

“Robyn, I need to go chicken. My mam is looking for me.”

“No she’s not Taron!”

“Love you!” He called and ended the phone call.

Robyn sent him a text with an angry smiley face followed by a bed, a rocket and a man and Taron’s reply of a love heart, chicken, sheep and a cloud made her grin.

A week later it was Taron who called her to first scold her from commenting on his latest Instagram picture and second to thank her once more for giving him CPR in the 7/11.

It had been over a month since he had left Robyn and he could finally feel his ribs starting to heal and movements that had once stung him and caused him to stop and groan, were much easier for him and he could sit and stand with an ease he had taken for granted before he was hurt. The bruises on his face had completely faded away and his forehead was finally looking healed and only a small thin scab was left as the wound fixed itself. His arm had repaired itself too and again only a skinny scab that he didn’t need to cover was left on his skin. It was taking every ounce of his restrain to not pick at the healing wounds. He didn’t want to be left with a significant scar compared to the small one he would have.

One of the first things he knew he wanted to do once he could move more freely was contact the British Red Cross and enquire about a CPR course that he could take part in and he did so during the first week of October. He had already spoken to his agent about it as well as Lyndsey, his parents and Robyn, who though were concerned with his willingness to throw himself into a course that taught the technique that saved his life so soon, they could see how much it meant to him and supported him with his choice and his need to follow through with his decision to do so.

When he explained who he was and why he wanted to learn such a vital skill to the lady on the phone, it only took three days for his team to work with the British Red Cross in Wales and organise for Taron to take a two day first aid course at home in Aberystwyth. He was extremely happy to share his experience on video for the Red Cross to use in their training, making sure it was ok with Robyn too before he donned the t-shirt with the Red Cross logo to explain how important CPR was and how it had saved his life. It was a campaign that he was proud to be a part of and the two days of training although had been very important for him, were extremely hard and he had to leave the room twice during the first day to compose himself before the instructor could actually show him and those taking the course, how to properly perform CPR. His hands shook and his breathing quickened as he took to his knees in front of the mannequin and he nearly didn’t do it but pushed himself and even when tears started to form in his eyes, he continued to push the compressions up and down. He was glad when the instructor let them take a break before they introduced the breathes as he needed to leave the room and get some air.

He quickly pulled out his phone and called Robyn needing his confident to sort his head out before he went back in.

“I am so proud of you Taron.”

“First off, I don’t know how you did that to me. I was working on a mannequin and my hands were shaking. Your hands were on a real person, on me and you did that. Second, Jesus Robyn, it takes so much energy. I am knackered and I have only done it a few times without the breathes. Thirdly, I can’t believe how hard you have to push down on a chest to ensure you do it properly and fourthly, could you have made it any more obvious on my Instagram that you are the Robyn who helped me? We are supposed to be avoiding social media contact.”

“Oh, how I am missed my rambling numbering things Taron.” Robyn wished she was there with him so she could give him a hug that she was sure he desperately needed. She thought he was crazy when he had called her to tell him what he was organising and only because it was so soon after he had been given CPR. She fully supported him and the campaign he wanted to be a part of and couldn’t encourage him enough for what he wated to do and learn. However, she really felt that learning the new skill would only bring unwanted memoires and pain back to him but he had been so insistent on learning it and she couldn’t talk him into waiting until the new year. “I am giving you a virtual hug now, rocketman.”

“Thank you because I need one.”

“Let go sort through those numbers for you. Firstly, I did it to you because I had to. Believe me, when you are faced with an unresponsive body in real life, it is a very different feeling than sitting in front of a mannequin. Adrenaline automatically runs through you when there is someone’s life depending on you and you do everything within your power that you can to help them. Second, yes it takes a lot of energy but again your adrenaline and instincts kick in and you will be doing lots of rounds Taron when you practise so you get used to the feel of it. I only did one on you but then it is good to understand how much energy it takes. You can tag team with someone else if they know how to do it too.”

“Yeah the instructor had said that.”

“Third, it’s a fair push down on a someone’s chest. You really have to put a lot of strength into those straight arms and thrust the compressions down.”

“And you didn’t break anything.” When speaking about his experience of receiving CPR from Robyn, the instructor was baffled by the fact that Robyn hadn’t broken any of his ribs.

“Still haven’t figured that one out yet Taron and thankful that I didn’t. It would have been a completely different story if I had of broken your ribs.”

“Something else I have to be thanking you for.” Agreed Taron. “The instructor told us to sing Baby Shark in our heads to help keep the beat so each compression is even and solid.”

Robyn laughed a little. “I actually did that.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yeah I did. It’s what I was told too and it’s a great tip. Really helps you with the rhythm.”

“Everyone laughed when he said it but I think I might go back and tell them that little tip works.”

“And fourthly, you expected me not to comment on the photo you posted of the campaign? I am extremely proud of you for doing this Taron and I am going to say so.”

“You have completely offered yourself up to the world now.”

“The world already knows who I am.”

“You read the comments?” He asked as he walked up and down the car park.

“Naturally.”

“And?”

“All good Taron. You have done such a wonderful thing with this campaign.”

“Well it’s very close to my heart.”

“Nice pun.”

“Wasn’t actually a pun, Robyn.”

“You ok though? This cannot be easy for you.”

She heard him take a breath. “It has been hard. Really hard but I need to do it and I need to it now rather than later when I will chicken out or don’t have the time and I am actually enjoying it, even though it scares me shitless. We are working on the breathes next.”

“Just take your time with it Taron. Everyone understands that this is a very unusual situation for you and won’t mind how long it takes you to get comfortable. I know I am going to find my next first aid training very difficult. At least you don’t remember the CPR.”

“Ugh Robyn what a fucking mess.”

“And here we go again.” Robyn smiled as Taron used his go to phrase when things got a little hard for him and he started to get frustrated when he couldn’t figure his problem out quickly. “Not a mess Taron. Hard and emotionally horrible but needed for healing for you. Seeing the video footage from the 7/11 and watching it makes it harder for you too. Now you have seen the actual CPR, it makes it so much more real for you.”

“Even with an ocean between us you can still read my mind.”

“I told you it was my gift to you.”

Taron looked at the instructor came out and gave him a wave. “Robyn, I have got to go. We are ready to start again.”

“Just breath and take your time. Concentrate on the reasons why you would have to learn this and call me when you are done.”

“I will. Thank you Robyn.”

“Anytime.”

“Before you go, can I ask you something?”

“You know you can ask me anything.”

“Have you thought any more about coming to Elton’s charity benefit with me? And remember it wasn’t me who invited you but Elton himself and you know you can’t turn Mr Elton John down.”

“Taron…”

“I don’t want to put you under pressure but I would really love for you to come.”

“I know Taron. You have already said that to me the last four times you asked me this question over the last week.”

“You would get to wear a fancy fancy dress.”

“You said that too.”

“Please think about it. It is only two weeks away and it’s on a Saturday so you won’t have to miss work.”

“And again, you have told me this already.”

“And it was Elton who invited you, not me.”

“And yes, I know this too. I got the invite in the post.”

Robyn had been confused when the gold envelope arrived in her letter box and opened it, shocked to see that she had been invited to the auction for Elton’s AIDS foundation at his home. Taron had sworn blind that he had nothing to do with the fancy invite when she called him and that Elton had only asked for her address.

“Robyn?” He asked when he heard her go quiet on the end of the phone. He heard his name called and turned to look at the instructor and he gave him a two-minute sign with his left hand. “Hey, look, I don’t want to pressure you into it. I know it is a huge ask for you.”

“It’s only one of the most important charity events of the year being held in Elton John’s home with an array of celebrity faces. Meant to be the soirée of the year. Full of press and media.”

“It’ll be my first event since Florida.” He said quietly.

“Taron…”

“I am not guilting you into it Robyn. I promise I am not and I honestly had nothing to do with the invite. Elton wanted to invite you himself. He knows how much you mean to me and he thought it would have been a nice ‘treat’ as he called it for you.”

“You know I believe you. I just need to think about it Taron. It’s a lot and I thought we were keeping me away from the media.”

“We are and I just miss you. Today has been hard and it’s just bringing some emotions back.”

“I miss you too. I just need some more time to think about it ok and I am always here if you need to vent some emotions.”

Taron hoped Robyn hadn’t heard his sigh into the phone. “I really need to get going Robyn. They are waiting for me.”

“I don’t think you should go back to that course with your mind set the way it is.”

“I will be ok.”

“Yes you will be but you need another ten or fifteen minutes to clear your head.”

“Always looking out for me.”

“And always will be.”

“I should go.”

“Yeah I know. Please call me when you are finished ok?”

“I will.”

“I am still stupidly proud of you Taron.” She enjoyed the small laugh he gave her. “Just remember to breathe and it’s ok to stop if it gets too much for you.”

The call ended and Taron wandered slowly back towards the building where the training was taking place. He had slipped his phone into his pocket but pulled it back out when he felt it ding against his thigh. He was confused when he saw a message from Robyn and unlocked the phone, sliding the screen to open the message.

‘I will be there.’

Four little words brought the biggest grin to his face and he replied quickly with his most used emojis lately: a chicken and a heart.

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #love #Friendship #Being There For Each Other #Proud #Family #Phonecalls #CPR Training #First Aid Skills #Friends for Life

3 notes · View notes

starker-stories · 5 years ago

Text

An Accord (WIS), Chapter 2

I’m sorry I missed a day re-posting Accord. I really want to get it all back out there so I can continue on with chapter 10-13 when I hit that point. Unfortunately, I’m still sleeping off whatever hit me Monday-Wednesday while I was in the hospital. I’m pretty sure I’m back up to normal now. So let’s start this daily posting thing again.

As a bit of annoyance, I’m going to remind you that @starker-stories is formerly starkerstories, which got accidentally deleted. So if you followed me at the non-hyphenated blog, I hope you’ll make the move with me to the hyphenated one. I miss all’y’all.

I’ll be re-creating my individual chapter posts for An Accord over here on the blog that replaces starkerstories. Until I hit the current chapter, I’ll be posting daily. They’ll have links to both tumblr and AO3 chapter links. I’m sorry if that bothers people who’ve seen this all before in the tag. I’m content to leave all my other fic as AO3 only, but this is my current favorite child, so I’m spoiling it rotten.

This fic is on a weekly update schedule. Hopefully every Friday. More chapters may appear sooner if the writing is going well. Because I have 0 self-control.

Tumblr Chapter Links: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13 AO3 Chapter Links: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13

Tags: Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyamory, Cheating, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Domestic Nightmare Tony Stark, Reconciliation, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, WinterIronSpider, Happy Ending, Clothed Sex, Domesticity, Peter Parker is legal age in the state of New York, College Student Peter Parker, Takes place about 2 years after Civil War. Closeted Character

Summary: “Oh. My. God. Old man stereo.” Peter disentangled himself from Tony’s hold. “Feed me.” Bucky started to rise. “Sit down, Bucky. I didn’t say cook. I told him to feed me. Feed US.” ——————————————————————————————

Chapter 2: The pass-code to the penthouse

A movie and a half later, Tony sat on the other end of the sofa from Bucky. “Taken care of. Tomorrow you’ll meet Fury up at HQ.”

“It’ll take more than one day,” Bucky said quietly. “There were a lot of missions.”

Tony nodded.

“I remember all of them, Tony. I’m sorry.”

It was still hard for Tony to reconcile the raw emotion of what happened with the knowledge that the man sitting next to him was not the man in that videotape. “I know, Bucky. I’m getting there, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’ll head upstate for a few hours a day until it’s finished. Either Fury or Maria Hill will handle the debrief personally. Whatever Ross finds out will be filtered through them, cross-checked by FRIDAY, gone over by me, and then given back to Fury to release.”

“They agreed to that?”

Tony laughed. “Of course not. It’s all going directly from Fury to Ross, with not a single stop in between.”

Bucky was quiet for a long time and they both pretended to watch the movie. “Steve underestimated you.”

“You think?”

They watched the movie until its end. “Didn’t peg you for a rom-com man, Bucky,” Tony said smiling.

“War movies kinda lost their charm.”

“Overly realistic sci-fi ones lost theirs for me,” Tony countered.

“Drama… I live enough of that lately.”

“Ditto action.”

“Romance never gets old,” Bucky said finally.

“God, are you two getting weepy over Tom Hanks movies?” Peter said, laughing and landing in Tony’s lap once he dropped his backpack by the elevator.

“You told me you liked that I’m a romantic,” Tony said, kissing Peter lightly on the lips.

“Yes, but…” Peter picked up the remote, clicked, and brought up the title. “Sleepless in Seattle?”

“Shut up, kid.”

“Oh. My. God. Old man stereo.” Peter disentangled himself from Tony’s hold. “Feed me.” Bucky started to rise. “Sit down, Bucky. I didn’t say cook. I told him to feed me. Feed US.”

“Take out?”

“Take me… us… out.”

“Your house is full of food, Tony,” Bucky said. “Take your boyfriend out to dinner, I’ll be fine.”

“I said, feed US,” Peter hollered back from the bedroom.

“Thai?” Tony suggested.

“Thai.” Peter agreed, coming back, tugging on a fresh shirt.

“Chinese?” Bucky countered.

“Thai wasn’t a thing in your day?” Peter asked.

“In Thailand it was. Not in Manhattan.”

Tony laughed. “How long has it been since you were here… that you remember?”

“Uh… Forty-three? I’ve been here since, and I remember, but it wasn’t to sample the cuisine. Back in forty-three, pretty much everyone still called it Siam, even though it had changed already. But by any name, there weren’t any restaurants serving that kind of food. Chinese was the closest.”

“I doubt spending the last year, since Wakanda, on the run with Rogers broadened your horizons.”

“Not really.”

“Thai then,” Peter insisted.

“Yes, but proper Thai. We’re not dragging our new guest to that place you and May like.”

“Fine. Rich people Thai.”

“Yes, Thai. Not Thai by way of American Cantonese and whichever Korean guy they have working the kitchen today.”

Bucky smiled at the couple, arguing as they wandered back and forth from the bedroom to the living room, various bits of clothes flying while they changed.

“There.” Peter said, finally dressed in much the same as he’d started out in.

“Ready?” Tony asked Bucky.

“We can just… go out?” He’d spent all of his time, since he escaped from HYDRA, on the run. The idea of just being able to walk outside the door and go to a restaurant was unbelievable.

“Well, yeah,” Peter said.

“It can be a bit of a zoo once I’m recognized,” Tony admitted. “But that’s why I get driven even though it’s only a few blocks away, and I’ll have security there.”

“Iron Man needs security?” Bucky asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No, Iron Man does not need security,” Tony said sharply. “However Tony Stark, the fifth richest man in the world and New York celebrity needs security. Unless you fancy being mobbed by everyone with a cellphone.”

“Not fun,” Peter said sagely.

Happy was waiting with the Rolls outside Tony’s private elevator in the garage when the three of them arrived.

“Bucky, this is Happy Hogan. Head of Security for Stark Industries, but I also make him be my driver and pilot still. He tolerates it because I’m so loveable. Happy, Bucky Barnes. He’s staying with Peter and I for awhile.”

“Mr. Hogan.”

“Sergeant Barnes.”

“Can we not? It wasn’t him. It was someone else. I’m… getting over it. I appreciate my defense squad, Happy, but save the death glare for Rogers if he ever shows up.”

“Tony’s taking us out to dinner,” Peter said brightly.

“Thai?” Happy asked.

“He’s nothing if not predictable,” Tony said, helping Peter in. “There’s going to be grooves carved into the road from the tower to the Thai restaurant.”

“To match the grooves from the tower to the Italian one you insist on going to every time it’s your choice,” Peter countered.

“Italian?” Bucky asked. “You been to Gargiulo’s?”

“Fuck yes. I haven’t been in years. But it was as close as you get to Napoletano outside of Naples. Sorry kid, you’re overruled. Happy! Change of plan. Coney Island.”

“What‽” Peter screeched. “I will be as old as you two before I eat.”

“Yeah, true. Never mind the car. Make the arrangements, Hap. We’ll meet you on the helipad.”

“What the fuck?” Peter said.

“What the fuck?” Bucky said, just a little bit behind him.

“Oh, pretty and beautiful chime in,” Tony said, teasingly. “You think you’re going to dangle the possibility of me eating like my m… Oh.” Tony gasped and sat heavily down onto the backseat of the car. His eyes closed tightly shut and he began hyperventilating.

“Shit,” Bucky whispered. He backed away until he was up against the wall of the garage, as far away from Tony as he could get. He watched as Peter climbed next to Tony. Once the kid had Tony in his arms, Bucky ran up the garage ramp and kept running.

“Stop him,” Tony gasped out. “Lock the garage down before he gets out.” He flailed for Happy’s arm. “It’s not his fault,” he told Happy. Which was as far as Tony’s bravery would take him. He buried his face against Peter’s chest. “It’s not his fault,” he said quieter.

“I know, Tony. It’s okay. He’s… his twin brother.”

“Yeah.” Tony drew a shaky breath and another and another. Slow and deep. In the safety of Peter’s arms, it was easy to convince himself of that. Twin brother. That made sense. It was a gut level reaction to seeing the same face associated with…

Tony was sitting on the edge of the carseat when Bucky came back down, followed by Happy. “I’m not going to kill you.”

“You couldn’t.”

“Debatable. But I don’t want to kill you. Your dead twin brother on the other hand,” Tony said, trying at a wan smile.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky sat cross-legged on the garage floor in front of the car door’s opening.

“I forgot who you aren’t. It’s… I got caught up in the moment. My… her cousin used to work at the place. She and I ate there a lot the summer between high school and MIT. Howard was setting things up in L.A. that summer. It…” Tony closed his eyes again. “I don’t want to blame you,” he said quietly. “I know it wasn’t you.”

“She was Italian? That wasn’t in the file. Nothing was. A time. A date. A location. A mission. I didn’t know who. Not until after. Until just before Pierce had me wiped again and sent me back to Siberia for storage.” Bucky tried to hide his reaction to his memory of the procedure.

“I’m sorry,” Tony said.

Peter reached out for each of their hands. “Takeout, obviously.” He helped both men to their feet and led them to the elevator. “Chinese or pizza?”

“Chinese,” they both said.

“Fantastic.” Peter leaned his head on Tony’s shoulder and wrapped their arms together. But he kept his hand reached out to hold Bucky’s.

~~~~~

They let Peter pick the movie.

“I thought you didn’t like sci-fi?” Bucky asked.

“To be honest, the whole ‘sitting still pretending to be mentally engaged by a movie’ is new to me,” Tony offered in his defense.

“You told me you loved Star Wars.”

“Yeah. Star Wars.”

“And Star Trek.”

“That’s okay too.”

“That’s sci-fi!” Peter said emphatically.

“Technically, that’s space opera,” Tony countered.

“You don’t have to sit and watch movies with me,” Peter said, sounding actually hurt.

“I like sitting and watching movies with you. I never said I didn’t. I said it was new to me.”

“Watching movies can’t be new to you. He’s older than you and it’s not new to him,” Peter said, nodding towards Bucky.

“Baby, the last movie I sat and watched all the way through, in one sitting, was Star Wars. The summer right before I was sent to boarding school in the fall.”

“Oh.”

“It’s okay. It’s just… new. Sitting still for this long. Not… doing anything.”

“You’re watching a movie.”

“No, baby. You’re watching a movie. I’m watching you.” Tony leaned over and gave Peter a kiss. He was about to deepen it when he remembered they weren’t alone. He chuckled. “Sorry.”

Peter laughed. “I foresee us bumbling around each other saying ‘sorry’ a lot.”

“You haven’t said ‘sorry’ yet, kid,” Bucky grinned.

“Call me kid again and I’ll web your cool metal arm to the floor again.” Peter grinned back. “Then I’ll say sorry for it after.”

~~~~~

“Bucky. Hey, Bucky. It’s all right. You’re safe. You’re in New York. You’re in Stark Tower. Bucky. It’s Peter. Parker. Peter Parker. You’re okay.”

Bucky punched in the direction of the voice. His punch was… caught. His arm made an electromechanical whir. He opened his eyes.

“Hi Bucky,” Peter smiled at him, holding his metal fist in his hand. “You were having a nightmare. No, no. Don’t move yet.” Peter put Bucky’s hand down onto the bed.

“Peter?” Bucky said hoarsely.

“Yeah,” he smiled again.

“You shouldn’t wake me up from a nightmare. I could hurt you.”

“Hi, I’m Spider-Man. You can’t hurt me. You already tried to hurt me and didn’t. But I didn’t wake you up. I know better.”

“You know better?” Bucky asked, stretching his legs out, one at a time, then his right arm, moving his fingers.

“Nightmares. Kinda the pass-code to the penthouse.”

“Tony?” Peter nodded. “You?” Bucky asked, less credulously. Peter nodded again.

“Welcome to the fabulous superhero life.”

“Some of mine were from before the superhero life,” Bucky said quietly.

“Some of Tony’s. Some of mine, too. It doesn’t matter who has them worse, when they’re happening, they’re all worse.”

“You can go back to bed now, kid. Thanks. But Tony’ll be missing you.”

Peter sucked in his lips, but stayed.

“He’s not in bed?”

“When he’s avoiding nightmares, he doesn’t sleep.”

“Wish I could learn that trick,” Bucky said bitterly. He saw Peter’s expression. “No, I guess I don’t.”

“It could be three days or more before he sleeps. However long it takes his body to pass out this time around. I’ll be there when he needs me.”

“Who’s there for you, kid?”

“Tony is. When I wake up crushed by tons of concrete or seeing my uncle get murdered or clinging onto the skin of an airplane as it falls from the sky or…”

“Price of admission to the Stark Tower penthouse suite,” Bucky said, “one lifetime of nightmares.”

“Basically,” Peter said, nodding. “You okay? Tony doesn’t like being alone after. You used to have Steve…”

Bucky sighed. “Not exactly. Our relationship was…”

“Complicated?”

He chuckled. “That’s one way to put it. The thing you and Tony have? We grew up in a different time.”

“I thought you two were together?”

“We were. But not like you and Tony. It was more… casual.”

Peter furrowed his brow. “You don’t sound casual.”

“It was all it could be. We were looking for different things. The thing I wanted… it wasn’t possible back then. Then other things became a habit… then it was hard to fall out of those habits…”

“Tony had those habits. He told me what it was like. I can’t imagine it. Not really. To know you want one thing, but lie and hide and pretend to want something else. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Fear’s where you begin, Peter,” Bucky said. He rolled onto his side and balled up the pillow under his head. “I’m glad you don’t know where to begin.”

“Tony learned to get over it.”

“He had you to make him want to get over it. A cute boyfriend’s a pretty strong motivator.”

Peter giggled and blushed. “You’re a cute boyfriend, why didn’t Steve get over it?”

“I wasn’t even sure what we were. What we could be. What I even wanted us to be anymore. I had him before the war, I lost him after I shipped out. Then I had him again for awhile during the war and lost him again. Then I had him after HYDRA. But this third time? I think ‘lost’ has finally won. Whatever we might’ve had…” Bucky shook his head. “The Steve I knew, either before or during the war, wouldn’t have made the decision he has. Whoever he’s become, he isn’t my Steve anymore.”

They fell into silence. “Go to bed, Peter. You have class and I have the first of my debriefs with Fury. Trade ya,” he said, smiling.

“Not for all the money in Tony Stark’s bank account.” Peter leaned over and gave Bucky a quick kiss on his temple. “Good night.”

~~~~~

“He had a nightmare,” Peter said, sleepily settling on a stool next to Tony’s workstation.

“Hmm.”

“He and Rogers weren’t… together together.”

“That’s good.”

“The Chitauri are attacking again.”

“Uh huh.”

“TONY!”

“What?” Tony spun on his chair to face Peter.

“Good night, FRIDAY.”

“Good night, Peter. Good night, boss.” FRIDAY powered down the holotables and the screens.

“I thought I told you not to fuck with FRIDAY’s protocols anymore.”

Peter laughed and took Tony’s hands. “Build tighter access to prevent a hardware intercept.”

“No one else but you has access to FRIDAY’s hardware.”

“Then don’t complain about me adding a ‘good night’ protocol to her.” He pulled on Tony’s hands until he was standing and following him.

“I don’t have to follow you upstairs, you know.”

“Yeah you kinda do if you want to keep your hands attached to the rest of you.”

“God, I hate you, Peter Parker.”

“Ya love me and ya know it.”

“He had a nightmare?” Tony asked, having heard the whole thing.

“Uh huh. A bad one. Don’t worry. I was there when he woke up.”

“I do love you, you know.” Tony let Peter finish leading him to their bedroom door. “I’m glad you were able to help him,” he said. “I know it’s not his fault. It doesn’t… make it hurt any less.” he added, quieter.

“It hurts him too.”

“I know. That’s why I’m glad you helped him.” Tony kissed Peter lightly before closing the door behind them and letting him finish taking him to bed.

#starker #winterironspider #WIS An Accord #Von writes stuff

10 notes · View notes

magicallygrimmwiccan · 6 years ago

Text

Only Time

Summary: They used to spend almost every moment of their lives together. Everything changes once high school hits, and Roman begins to realize that his actions have consequences.

Notes: This is my half of an art/writing trade with the wonderful Wren (@dailypattondoodle or @moonfang03), who wanted some twin Logince with angst and a fluffy resolution. Welp, hope you enjoy this :) This is going to be posted in a couple different chapters, purely for the sake of my editor and formatting on Tumblr. Hope you enjoy, Wren!

Logan and Roman Everhart had always been non-normal children. They were an adopted set of identical twins, something very unheard of by most. Their adopted fathers were always quick to defend the legitimacy of their claim to parenthood, however, with Roman and Logan none the wiser. The twins also never quite seemed to act their age. Roman began to recite Shakespearean sonnets at 8 without being in an acting company. Logan was reading high-school level chemistry textbooks at age 10 and actually understanding them. Roman was fluent in at least 3 languages including English by the age of 11, and Logan could translate texts in at least 5 by the same age. Their fathers were extremely proud of their children (although baffled over how they learned these things that quickly) and encouraged their interests as individuals.

At the same time, however, both were still just average children. Roman enjoyed going to movies and playing outside and doing sports while also joining a Shakespeare youth company and a choir outside of school. Logan found a STEM group outside of school and joined that while also enjoying reading in his spot on the windowsill in the living room. Both boys had their differences, both from each other and from other children, of course, but first and foremost, they were brothers. They did everything together as children, from watching new shows and movies to starting new books and even trying to cook together. In other words, they were siblings. Yes, they fought, and had their differences, but at the end of the day, they were each other’s best friend. The two of them were always there for each other. Well… until high school, that is.

The first day of high school, Roman met the other theatre kids and was instantly enamoured by them. They understood him perfectly. They supported and participated in his dramatics. They didn’t laugh when he began to geek out over the latest Disney news or the latest Broadway musical or the newest episode of a cartoon show that he really should have stopped watching years ago when he got “too old for it”. They were there with him, just as passionate about the same things. Oh, sure, they all had their differences, and drama, but overall, Roman knew that he had found a new family in this small group of social outcasts in the theatre department at his new high school.

Logan, however? Logan struggled. Not only was he seen as a freak for his selective mutism (and yes, it was selective, he had a hard enough time talking normally so it wasn’t much of a stretch to only communicate in sign), his uncommon interests pushed him even further away from his peers. While he made a couple of friends, mostly fellow science fans, they had lives and responsibilities away from him and their group, and, as all of them were introverts, they tended to not meet up outside of school very often. As such, Logan was extremely lonely without Roman. But this was fine, he told himself. Roman was a social person by nature. He needed people to talk to that weren’t his brother. Logan had no reason to be upset, right?

“And then he just started bawling! I mean, it’s understandable, that spider was far too large for any five year old to handle, but I think that’s the most emotion he’s ever shown in his life!” Roman finished, head thrown back from the force of his laughter. The rest of his friends giggled a bit as well, all too used to hearing about the adventures of Young Logan and Roman.

“Roman, you’re so mean to your brother!” Mabel giggled, tossing her long brown hair over her shoulders. Her brown eyes twinkled with mirth as she almost dropped her fork into her pasta. Roman snorted and rolled his eyes, far too used to Mabel’s clumsiness.

“Mabel, you have no room to talk,” he shot back, grinning. “I seem to recall you telling us stories about being an absolute menace to your brother one summer when you were 12?” The other six people at the table laughed and oohed along with Mabel and Roman like the immature freshmen that they were. People at nearby tables shot them looks but did not speak up, ultimately succumbing to the apathy high school filled you with and returning to their regularly scheduled lunches. Nonetheless, their table did quiet down, not wanting to cause a fight to break out in the crowded lunchroom.

“Hey, speaking of brothers, I haven’t seen yours in a while, Roman,” Shiloh mentioned, instantly dampening the mood of the conversation. While Logan was liked by all at the table, more than one person had a complicated relationship with him, whether it be from classes or indirect experience through another person. Roman blinked in shock at Shiloh’s statement, mind whirling. He had just spoken to Logan an hour ago, hadn’t he? Outside of Logan’s Honors English classroom? And hadn’t his friends been with him? No, they had not, he concluded as the memories solidified. He had talked to Logan alone.

“He’s been busy with classes. He’s in all honors, remember, and he has a lot of activities to do outside of school,” Roman answered, voice even and unconcerned. Why should he be concerned, after all? This was normal behaviour for Logan, who did not like to talk to most people that were not in his immediate circle of Trusted Humans. Plus, these were not Logan’s friends. Acquaintances, yes, but not friends. Logan had his own friends, a couple of fellow sciencey introverts who did not mind Logan’s methods of communication. Why should Roman be concerned, then, that his friends had not seen Logan for a bit?

“Yeah, true. I dunno, though, he used to stop by at least once a lunch period. He hasn’t done that for at least two weeks,” Shiloh continued, chewing his bottom lip. Dani murmured in quiet agreement and shoved the rest of her sandwich in her mouth, and Mabel sighed, eyes flickering with melancholy. None of them would admit it, but they missed Logan’s visits, if only to see his adorable banter with his twin.

“He’s probably just busy, okay guys? Nothing’s wrong,” Roman huffed, stabbing violently into his pasta. “Why are you worried, anyway? He’d tell me if something is wrong.” Dani and Shiloh looked at each other across the table, silently communicating with eyebrow raises and glances. Clearly, Roman wasn’t paying attention to his sibling. Should they tell him, or let him figure this out on his own?

The bell to signal the end of lunch interrupted their decision making, and the group all stood to scatter to their afternoon classes, groaning the entire time. Roman hiked up his backpack and stalked off to algebra, slipping into his seat just before the late bell rang. Logan was fine, he knew. His friends had no reason to make such a big deal over this. Right?

Logan choked back his tears as he checked his phone for the fifth time in the last minute or so. Roman wasn’t coming, it was clear. This was far from the first time Roman had skipped their meetings, and it was very unlikely to be the last. He had a life, and friends, and better things to do with his time than spend time with his stupid nerdy brother who was still far too clingy at age 14. Five more minutes, he thought, I’ll give him five more minutes. He was already five minutes late, Logan knew, but he was not quite willing to accept that fact yet. He was not ready to admit that his brother was abandoning him.

Five minutes passed and Roman was nowhere to be found, as was normal lately. Logan sighed and began to walk towards his next class half an hour early as usual, ignoring the pangs and tearing in his chest. He should be fine, he couldn’t possibly expect Roman to spend every moment with him, he should be happy for his brother and his new friends. Logan knew that change was natural in high school, yet he somehow still felt awful over it. He should have made more of an effort in his younger years to talk to people other than Roman. Maybe then he’d know how to deal with this.

“Logan? You’re here early again. Is something wrong?” his Trig Honours teacher asked, concern dripping from her voice. Logan swallowed down his feelings, shifted his binder to his right arm, and lifted his left hand to reply.

No, I just finished lunch early and my friends are busy. May I please stay in here? he asked, hand shaking slightly at the thought of rejection. His teacher must have noticed and smiled at him, waves of calm radiating off of her.

“Of course you can stay in here, Logan. In fact, could you help me grade the Algebra 1 tests? If that’s not too much trouble,” she replied, holding up a stack of paper. Logan nodded and set his materials at his desk before walking back over and settling down to help grade. Grading relaxed him and took his mind off of his issues.

“So, Logan. Do you need to talk?” she asked, looking over her glasses. Logan shook his head, focusing on correcting a poor freshman’s factoring. She sighed and went back to silence, allowing Logan to stew in his thoughts. Far too soon, the rest of his class began to filter in, and Logan had to go back into his daily schedule, still raw and uncertain about what was going on with his brother.

Luckily, school was over quickly, and Logan began his walk home, not willing to wait for Roman to finish play practice today. Plus, he had homework, and Dad would need help making dinner since Papa was working late tonight. It’s not like Roman would worry, anyway, Logan knew as he reached the front door, reaching into his pocket to grab his house keys. He walked in the door, the scent of burning sugar hitting his nose.

“Logan? Can you help me? I can’t… figure out how to cook!” Dad’s voice called, tinged with panic. Logan chuffed, threw his backpack onto the couch, and walked into the kitchen, eyes widening as he took in the destruction around him. Flour dusted every surface. Eggs were splattered across the table. Sloppily chopped cloves of garlic lay on the floor, and a bottle of olive oil lay on its side, thankfully sealed and not leaking. In the middle of this cooking disaster zone stood Virgil Everhart, a famous author who still didn’t know how to cook at age 30. Logan smiles slightly and walked over, picking up a discarded chopping knife.

What are you trying to make, Dad? Virgil sighed and turned back to the stove, shutting it off and taking the slightly-smoking pan off of the burner.

“This… this nice pasta recipe. And we had all the things to hand make pasta… and I wanted to surprise Patton with something special? But… I failed,” Virgil muttered, gesturing around the room. Logan nodded and gently took the pan from Virgil. He grabbed out all the ingredients he was going to need and set to work, smiling.

I can do this, Dad. Just focus on cleaning up, Logan signed before setting to work. Virgil shuffled around behind him, cleaning up everything that he had almost destroyed and handing Logan the olive oil for later. Logan snorted and took it, giving his Dad a large smile and a big thumbs-up. Virgil was trying to learn a new skill, it was clear.

“Okay, it’s all cleaned up. Can I help?” Logan shook his head and finished kneading the dough, beginning to set it up to roll it out and cut it. The kitchen descended into silence as the two worked, Virgil mostly handing Logan things and stepping back and watching his son make the meal. Logan was just finishing dishing the pasta into bowls when the front door slammed open and Roman’s voice came floating in.

“I’m home, everyone! Do I smell garlic?” Logan stiffened a bit but focused on finishing his task while Virgil went out to find and talk to Roman.

“Yep. Logan actually made dinner. Talk to him,” Virgil drawled. Logan finished topping everything with parmesan and hurried towards his room, snatching a bowl on the way. No, he wasn’t avoiding Roman, what were you talking about?

He walked into his room and softly closed the door before collapsing into his desk chair, pulling out his math textbook and flipping open his notebook. This was not the first time he did this, eating dinner and doing homework while avoiding his family, and it would be far from the last time he did this. He shoved down the bubbling heat, stabbed his fork into a mushroom, and threw himself into graphing conic sections for the second night in a row.

“So… Roman. We need to have a talk,” Virgil started, sitting down with his noodles across from his more extroverted son. Roman blinked and looked up, mouth full of pasta and carrots. Confusion painted his face, which Virgil would find adorable in any other scenario, but right now made anger bubble in his gut. It was clear Logan was hurting, and Roman should have noticed and known, but he clearly had no idea, and that made Virgil angrier than he thought.

“About what? My grades are fine, I’m not having issues… what’s up, Dad? Is someone dying?” Roman babbled, eyes wide and panicked. Virgil sighed and pinched his nose. Wow, how did he raise such a dramatic child? He blamed Patton.

“No one is dying. You’re not in trouble. It’s Logan.” Roman’s face paled and he almost dropped the bowl, catching it at the last second. “I… what? What’s wrong with Logan? Is he being bullied? Is he okay? Is he sick? Does he have depression? Who do I need to fight?” Roman rattled off, fists clenching and teeth gritting. Virgil actually… felt scared of his son at that moment. That… that should not happen.

“Whoa, hang on, Roman! Slow down! No, Logan is okay in most of those fields. Please let me talk!” Virgil babbled. Roman quieted down, brown eyes wide with expectation. Virgil sighed, steepled his fingers, and began. “I… I believe Logan may be exhibiting symptoms of depression or anxiety. And… I want to ask you if you have any idea why?”

Roman frowned and began to think. He seemed to finally stumble across a solution and his eyes widened, horror and despair filling their cocoa depths. “I… holy shit. I have no idea,” he whispered. Virgil sighed, took a bite of his pasta, and began to think about how to explain things to his son.

“I… you talk a lot about your friends, which is great, don’t get me wrong, but you also used to talk about Logan… and I’m wondering if you’ve just stopped talking to him?” Roman frowned before comprehension dawned.

“I haven’t been talking to him… oh crap, we were supposed to meet up at lunch today… oh crap!” Roman bolted upright, face pale. “I… where’s Logan! I need to talk to him! I- I need to fix this!” He sprinted out of the room, leaving Virgil alone to eat his pasta and contemplate all the horrible outcomes this situation could bring.

The front door opened again and closed again, and Virgil looked up to find Patton smiling softly at him. “Hey, honey, what’s going on?” Virgil sighed and pecked Patton on the cheek.

“Roman and Logan… are having some issues. They’re talking it out now.” Patton nodded and sat next to him, squeezing his hand.

“It’ll be fine, darling. They’re strong. They have a great bond. Everything will be okay,” Patton whispered. Virgil leaned against him, smiling softly.

“I hope so, Patt. I hope so.”

Knock knock. “Logan? Can we talk?” Logan’s head snapped upwards and he gulped at the sound of Roman’s nervous voice. His brother only sounded nervous when things were serious. Had Logan done something wrong? The mere thought sent nasty whispers through his brain, and he tried to block them out, focusing on the present. He stood and walked to his door, opening it to find Roman fidgeting with his sleeves in the hallway. “Can I come in?” Roman asked, eyes shining with something Logan couldn’t decipher. Logan nodded and let him in, closing the door behind his twin before sitting back in his desk chair while Roman perched on the bed. Silence reigned as the brothers faced each other, neither putting forth any words. Finally, after a solid three minutes of silence, Roman placed his hands on his knees, sighed, and began.

“Logan. I… you’ve been acting off lately. A bit more… depressed? And anxious? And I’d like to know what’s going on.” Logan bit his lip and wrung his hands together, trying to formulate a response. Should he be honest? Should he tell Roman the truth about his feelings? Or should he try and make Roman feel better? Looking into Roman’s earnest eyes, however, Logan felt all plans of lying leave his head. He had to tell his twin the truth.

I… have been feeling abandoned lately? You have been skipping our lunch meetings to hang out with your friends… and we don’t talk much anymore… which is fine! You have your own friends and your own life. I just feel a bit sad and hurt over it, Logan signed. His hands shook as they formed the damning signs, his hands lowering when he was done. Silence reigned, and Logan’s throat began to close up. He was so stupid, why couldn’t he just push his feelings down, why couldn’t he grow up and let Roman go-

Logan was suddenly yanked into a hug and he gasped, tears bubbling in his eyes. “You’re okay, Logan. You’re okay. I’m so, so sorry, bro, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry,” Roman sobbed, squeezing Logan. Logan slowly lifted his arms and hugged Roman back, finally allowing the tears to stream down his cheeks. There the two brothers sat, crying, for a length of time neither could tell, simply basking in the presence and love of the other, their best friend since birth. Eventually, Roman pulled back, sniffing, but kept his hands on Logan’s shoulders, giving him a watery grin.

“Okay. I promise, I will not forget our meetings, okay? In fact, I’m going to start spending all of lunch at least once a week with you. How does that sound?” Logan’s eyes widened and he frantically shook his head. No, he didn’t want that, Roman’s friends would start to hate him for taking Roman away-

“Hey, Logan? My friends will understand, okay? You come first, anyway. If they can’t handle me spending time with my brother, then they weren’t that great of friends in the first place,” Roman stated firmly, his voice cutting through Logan’s spiraling thoughts. Logan gulped and raised his hands.

I don’t want to cut into your time with people you enjoy, though. Roman growled and shook Logan gently.

“Logan. You matter more, okay? Plus, they all miss you. Just… trust me on this, okay?” Logan slowly, shakily nodded, and Roman smiled softly. “Good. That’s great, Logan. Now, yell at me if I do anything stupid, okay?”

Logan snorted. You’ll be smacked about ten times per day, then. Roman blinked before his cheeks puffed out.

“Hey! That’s rude!” Logan giggled, and Roman simply pouted more in an effort to be the largest drama queen on the planet. This caused Logan to giggle harder, and finally, Roman broke down laughing as well, happiness welling up in both sibling’s souls. They ended up cuddling on Logan’s bed and watching Netflix, somehow, but neither complained. This was the most time they’d spent with each other for a while, and neither was willing to have this end.

What neither knew was that, when they eventually fell asleep, Patton slipped into the room and tucked them in, plugged in Logan’s laptop, and dropped a soft kiss onto both of their foreheads. “Sweet dreams, kiddos,” he murmured before leaving, smiling to himself. His kiddos were finally beginning to make things better, and nothing could be better in his eyes.

“Logan, calm down. They all like you, remember?” Roman murmured, nudging his brother in the ribs gently. Logan gulped and adjusted his grip on his Caesar salad, staring across the lunchroom at Roman’s usual table filled with loud, laughing theatre kids. Mabel was draped across Dani, the two girls watching something on Dani’s phone. Shiloh and Tommy were shouting in Hebrew about math homework (Logan could only tell because he glimpsed their open math textbooks), and Clair was giggling along with Cory and Kate about cute humans. Overall, an alien environment to Logan. He didn’t fit in; he didn’t belong there. Roman huffed and grabbed Logan’s arm, yanking him after him as he marched over.

“Friends! Countrymen! Gentlewomen! Lend me your ears!” he called, causing the entire cafeteria to turn around and stare at them. Logan flinched, but Roman and his entire friend group took this in stride, grinning.

“Yes, Your Highness? What say you?” Shiloh yelled back, his voice lilting with sarcasm. The entire table chorused agreement, a cacophony of sarcasm erupting from the table. Logan flinched back, but Roman pushed onwards, gently shoving him in between Shiloh and Alfred. Logan simply fidgeted with his fork and waited to be kicked from the table.

“I say that my darling advisor, my dear brother, will be joining us today!” Roman chirped, lowering his volume. The rest of the cafeteria ignored them once again, and Logan swallowed as all the eyes at the table turned to him. He was acutely aware of how his argyle sweater vest and tie made him stand out among this group of fashionable teens. He fidgeted, not used to this much attention. Mika and Wirt were much more subdued and hated eye contact as much as Logan did. This… this was not in Logan’s comfort zone at all.

“Cool! So, Logan, do you listen to musicals? I just finished listening to the UK version of Heathers and do I have some opinions,” Mabel answered Roman, slamming her fist into the table.

“Oh, en guarde, bitch, you do not get to trash that recording!” Tommy yelped, slamming his fist into the table. Mabel yelled a challenge back, and Logan soon found himself embroiled in a conversation about which version of Heathers was better, a topic he knew nothing about. However, he found this conversation… pleasant, even fun. All of Roman’s friends were very welcoming and warm, and all of them took their time and let him sign, Roman translating for him. Never once did Logan feel excluded. This was… nice. He smiled his first genuine smile in months. Things were finally looking up.

Notes: And that’s Chapter One! I’m most likely posting Chapter 2 tomorrow (fingers crossed!). Hope you all enjoyed this!

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #twin logince #patton sanders #virgil sanders #parental moxiety #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #selectively mute logan #i am an evil author #writing trade #chapter one #only time

198 notes · View notes

chiyoumen · 5 years ago

Text

Two Faced | Chapter 3: Inseparable

Angst | Hurt, no comfort | Jealousy | Denial

I wasn’t able to get to my computer to post chapter 3 here on tumblr, but here it is now (for anyone who is past meeting Ren and hasn’t read this chapter on Ao3 yet lmao)

Summary:

Neither of them expected their reunion to be so... Bleak. Distance had given them both false expectations and changes in perception. The contact high had faded, and so had their victories.

Ren keeps his stead fast desire for treasure, and Ryo keeps his desire for justice, and peace. The conflict lay in their want for one another... Of which they both further deny.

But, Ren knows he needs Ryo to reach his goals, whether he cared about him or not... Their disappointing reunion left them both feeling raw.

What happens when he eavesdrops, and finds how Ryo speaks about him to other people?

What happens when he hears him flirting with another man?

Notes:

There is, of course, major spoilers for Shenmue III from this point on. Future chapters are planned, and will hopefully make it out as I replay the game again.

This chapter is based on the meeting with Ren in Niaowu, which was far more mundane than I expected. But it gave me something to work with, so here we are. It also involved the scene after they meet, where Ryo talks to Shenhua about him, and then calling some people, since I had the international calling card.

Major thanks to everyone who's commented, left kudos, and sent asks to me about this, or generally read this and supported in any way. Your support keeps this alive and I greatly appreciate it!

Hope you enjoy!

[Inseparable]

"He really liked you, didn't he?"

Honestly, he wasn't so sure about Joy's observation. Whenever he was around Ren, there was a palpable tension. The kiss they shared, the memories... The moment he felt strongest was at the top of the yellow head building, Ren's hand upon his shoulder, staring off into the sunset sky as Lan Di got away. He felt nearly defeated when Lan Di had escaped. But there was much more in that moment. He felt so close - like he could truly accomplish finding his father's killer.

And now... He was beginning to feel more alone than ever. While his relationship with Shenhua had grown, and he felt safe with her, she was... Comfortable. He didn't know how else to put that. She was innocent, and he was scared of her seeing more of the world than necessary - but she'd made her choice to follow him. He couldn't blame her for wanting to save her father... And he absolutely wanted to help. She was by no means weak, but she was quite naive.

Ren following him to China was something he'd anticipated, but he hadn't allowed himself to think on it too much. What if he hadn't shown up? He couldn't let himself feel that disappointment.

But he had shown up.

"Is that really all I get!?"

Ryo's heart practically punched through his chest when he heard that abrasive voice slice through the crowds and busy vendors. Ryo saw him the moment he turned the corner and did not hesitate to approach.

"THIS much." Ryo watched him gesture a large amount, "I want THIIIS much."

"Ren-" He tried to push through Ren's argument with the vendor.

Finally, he was here again. But he didn't turn around. He was just shouting about noodles and how stingy the vendor was being... This wasn't surprising.

"Ren!" Ryo needed to be heard.

Ren turned and face him, his heart leaping in frustration over the situation, words slipping from his lips because he did not want this to happen now, "Oh, for crying out loud!"

Play it cool, play it cool. You didn't follow him across China only out of worry. Right, money. That was the main reason, duh. Screw any other reason, honestly. It was the truth, just... Not the whole truth.

"What are you doing here?" Ryo asked, as if he hadn't known Ren would follow him all along.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Ren gestured to the stand multiple times, "I'm buying some chow mein!"

Ryo glared, "This is no time for jokes."

Ren drew his hands up, taking a step back, that scowl always made his heart skip, "Oh, there you go with that scary face again."

Ryo stepped closer, grabbing Ren's full attention, at least for a moment, "What the hell are you doing in Niaowu?"

'Say it,' Ryo plead internally, 'say you actually care for once, damn it.'

Ren stared at him for a moment, and the smirk that grew on Ren's face made Ryo scared to hear what he was about to say.

"You remember hearing Zhu Yuanda's story back in Kowloon?" Ren wagged his finger upward, and as he finished his statement, he couldn't bear to keep looking at Ryo, and darted his eyes away. Focus on anything else.

Ryo glared instantly, "About what?"

'Please don't say treasure.' Ryo thought, but it was cut off by exactly what he didn't want.

"Treasure!"

'Bastard.' he internally replied, glaring a little.

"I'm talking about treasure!" Ren hissed, briefly raising his fist to him to prove his sure, rock-steady stance on exactly what he was after. But he couldn't look at Ryo anymore, or that rock wall of a facade may crumble. So he turned away, unable to avoid the tension when Ryo lingered closer despite his move away, "The scent is so strong I can practically smell it..."

Ryo sighed, turning his head to stare at the ground. Ren really wasn't as good as he'd built him up to be. In the end, Ryo didn't give a damn about treasure. He wanted vengeance, justice, and eventually peace, and while he had thought Ren cared about that - he very clearly didn't.

"You..." Ryo's voice dropped, trailing off.

He shouldn't have been surprised.

Ren looked back to him, brow raising at Ryo's sudden downcast appearance. Damn. It worked. Ryo couldn't see through anything.

Ren stretched his arms back in the most nonchalant manner he could, deciding that he really didn't want to deal with the aftermath of this encounter. It wasn't his fault that Ryo showed up unexpectedly, he wasn't prepared! And now the kid was upset. Whatever. Ryo could handle himself.

"I'm gonna walk around some more." He flashed a fake, crooked smile at Ryo as he backed away, waving, abrupt and awkward, completely disregarding why he had been at the noodle stand in the first place, "See ya."

As Ryo glared at his back, he hadn't the faintest idea that Ren could be cursing himself mentally the entire time he walked away. Instead, Ryo was wondering how the Hell they'd gotten so close - only for it to be torn away to shreds and crumble so quickly... They'd only been apart a few weeks, but perhaps that was enough to put all their pain and differences in perspective. Or at least remind Ren what his real goal was.

"That Ren could easily pass for a red snake..." He sighed, mumbling to himself, "Guess I should head back to the bustling diner I go." He'd said it loudly in a last ditch effort to tell Ren where he'd be. But the man didn't even acknowledge him.

Ryo's heart had sunk into his stomach, any attempt at staying positive was gone, and he hadn't moved away from their meeting spot right away. He had a feeling that they both knew they'd see one another again - but this was not what he'd been anticipating... And Ren felt as cold as ever. That smirk of his was the same yet it felt so false and hollow. He felt more like the man he met the tried to stab him right off the bat... He felt like that same broken thug he distrusted, and needed to go to for help. He no longer felt the man who spoke up against his cool demeanor, the man who helped him when he didn't need to... the man he'd kissed.

He felt used.

Ryo's fists clenched tightly with his anger, rage brimming his eyes with tears. He'd tried to avoid disappointing himself with thoughts of their reunion - yet this was worse than he'd tried not to imagine. This hurt.

"Damn it..." He muttered inaudibly through gritted teeth, watching Ren's pony tail lightly chase him in the air as he walked away, "Damn you!"

Ren was thinking the same words.

There was nothing about their reunion that felt good - aside from the initial excitement of hearing Ryo call his name. But he was hungry and cranky, not only that, he hadn't expected Ryo to find him in the middle of a vendor's market. This was not going right. This was awful. He couldn't have possibly played it off any worse. Whatever, he really was there to find treasure! Not that he thought Ryo believed that anymore.

Did he care? Sure. Should he? Absolutely not. He had a job to do, and his number one goal was to become rich beyond his wildest dreams. It wasn't his fault that some dumb, passionate kid made him feel a thing or two. It's not like he hadn't slept with people or had brief flings without a second thought before. This was just like that. This was only that...

Being in an actual, public relationship with another man would be a scary prospect at best. Ren had a fondness for women too, but was by no means traditional, nor did he really care about the public opinion. He liked who he liked, despite sexual activity between men being illegal in his hometown. But fuck staying there, anyway, how boring. And since when did he care about any law he didn't want to follow? Boom, problem solved. But only the gods knew how Ryo might feel about that sort of thing. He had no idea how Japanese culture worked when it came to... All of that.

Gods, he was thinking too much. Headache central.

Although... None of it meant he had to be so cold to Ryo.

Maybe he should try again...? He already knew where Ryo was staying, perhaps he could try and stop by, change things. He didn't have to, and he had shit to do, but what good was any of this if Ryo remained pissed at him? There wasn't going to be any treasure, and there wasn't gonna be any glory if he couldn't tail it off the damn kid.

Yeah, that was his rationale.

Ren sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as he walked along the riverside. Yes, he fucked up. He had to do something. Like fixing a business partnership, right? Damn.

Not too long after their fleeting reunion, Ren made the decision to find Ryo in the Niaowu hotel. He'd been waiting for a while, and it was nearly nine. With a disgruntled groan, he headed into the lobby bathroom, annoyed at Ryo for making him wait so damn long...

Now, he wasn't usually the type to hype himself up, and he felt like an idiot doing so, mumbling under his breath. 'You can do this, he's just a dumb kid, he'll forgive you, this isn't a big deal. You don't even need to ask the idiot.' That was good enough right?

He stared at his hands for a moment, releasing a slow sigh. Gods, he was tired. Getting here hadn't been easy, and now, being here wasn't easy.

Adjusting his bandanna, he moved to leave the restroom.

He froze briefly when he heard Ryo's voice out front. Ren was about ready to push himself ahead, go catch him, talk to him, but he changed his mind the instant he heard a woman respond to him. He snaked against the wall, keeping himself pressed against it as he neared the corner, briefly peeking out to see Ryo sit down with a young, beautiful girl. How strange was that? A girl? Really?

Ren scowled, and moved back against the wall. He was in no way above eavesdropping. He hadn't heard the beginning of their conversation clearly.

Ryo was always awkward, but even more so when he spoke to women.

"Have you found anything?" The woman asked, a delicate, sweet voice reaching their ears.

"Hm. Nothing... New." Ryo replied.

She seemed disappointed, but resigned to patience, "Okay..."

"I..." Ryo paused on and off, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to tell her this, "Met someone... Unexpected, though."

Unexpected in the way he ran into him, not entirely unexpected, as he knew he'd see him eventually.

"Oh, who?" The woman replied.

"A man I met in Hong Kong, named Ren."

Ren's heart skipped, cold sweat beading throughout his skin.

"Ren, huh?" The girl seemed curious, "Is he a friend of yours?"

Neither of them knew the answer to that. But Ryo's response forced Ren into a state of anger that he had to swallow like a dry rock.

"Not... exactly.

Excuse you, kid?

"I keep my guard up when he's around."

'Seriously?' Ren glowered internally, 'After all I've done?'

"So..." She pushed for clarification, "He's a bad guy?"

"Uhm..."

Ren's entire body was washed over in a cold ice.

"Yeah, actually. He is."

Ren's hands balled into fists as he attempted to slow down his rapid breaths. He wasn't going to disagree when he was called a thug, or a jerk, or a snake. But he wasn't a bad guy! ...Was he? No! He was just trying to make a damn living in this harsh environment. One that he was born into and wasn't his fault to begin with!

Yet, his anger was lightly soothed, softened a little upon hearing, "But... We can trust him?"

"Well, yeah... We just have to watch our backs is all."

It was something. But not enough to completely quell the heaviness and heat weighing on him now.

"O...Kay?" She seemed just as confused about the two's relationship as they did.

So... Was that really how Ryo felt about him...?

Ren felt lost in a dizzying heart palpitation. He couldn't find his breath anymore, until he somehow forced a shaky one into his lungs. His nails were digging into his palms, only protected by the fabric of his gloves. He really was a bad guy, wasn't he? He's a thug, a villain, and Ryo had only needed him for help. Never took him for the using people sort, but maybe Ryo wasn't as innocent as anyone liked to believe...

With a start, Ren realized he needed to hide better as the girl passed by, toward the stairs. He slid down the hall, cautious, quick, and careful. He pushed himself off the wall to hide behind the corner in front of the bathroom door, still hidden.

He listened to Ryo and the girl bid each other a good night, and he peeked out very carefully to see if Ryo followed her. He felt some sense of relief when Ryo didn't tail her - but panicked when he almost turned his way. He hid again, and he wasn't spotted. All Ren ended up hearing was the sound of a phone being picked up - and Ryo beginning to dial a number.

Well, he certainly didn't want to apologize now anyway. If he wanted a bag guy, he was going to see one. Bad guys don't apologize, bad guys don't do rescue missions. But Ren had to stay put, there was no way he was going to sneak past Ryo while he was on the phone - Lords knew the damn hotel woman might say something.

But again... Ren was not above eaves dropping. Slowly, he lowered himself to the floor, closing his eyes as he sat on the ground and listened.

"Joy?"

Joy. Joy!? Why of all people would he call Joy? Either way, at first it was a typical greeting, boring the crap out of Ren already. He leaned his head back against the wall, and waited.

But his head shot up when Ryo began talking about him, yet again.

"I ran into Ren here..."

Yeesh, don't say it so dryly.

"Yeah..." He paused, "Play nice? With Ren?"

Ren grimaced to himself. But hey, he wasn't much one for playing nice either. Fair. But the next statement wasn't.

"Don't make me laugh. Nobody would make a great team with him."

'Wow, thanks.' Ren bit back that sarcastic statement, by literally biting his lip, 'Least I'm a leader. I've got people waiting for orders. Tsk.'

"He's only interested in treasure! Treasure is about the last thing I'm after."

Ren's hand hesitantly met his face, rubbing his temples with his thumb and forefinger. This was a nightmare. Ryo was both completely right and wrong at the same time. Ren's desperation for power and riches completely conflicted with the way his heart was beating right then, with the way he wanted to yell at him for being such a damn idiot, for disregarding his actions and taking priory over his words... Not that he was about to admit a damn thing.

Though the way Ryo spoke next put a dent in his lost thoughts, "A... blast? With Ren? Really?"

Ren peeked out again, nearly crawling to look that annoyingly far around the corner, too quickly, almost making a sound. It was difficult to see him, but he'd stepped back enough. Either the lighting had changed, or Ryo's face had become flushed with red... Ren knew his face matched.

But Ryo scowled, "Give me a break."

Oh, what Ren wouldn't do to hear Joy's side of the conversation. She knew him, she knew him more than he liked to admit... She was gonna weasel his feelings out without being blunt, wasn't she? But Ryo was convinced that he didn't care now, and Joy may have made him flustered, but that didn't change anything!

They shared a kiss! How the hell was he so damn convinced he didn't care? Gods, what kind of a mess had he gotten himself into... Sure, he was the type to run off and do reckless things... But chasing a boy across China? What the fuck was he thinking? At least his friends didn't seem surprised. Wong and Joy may have been able to read him like an open book, but any of his men? Nah. They expected him to chase the scent of money, hell, they trusted him to do so. Of course he'd go running off at the statement 'treasures of the Qing dynasty.' It was a priority to him... Ryo was merely a benefit to the chase. Yeah. That was all. It was better to look at a pretty boy (and potentially a pretty girl now, too) on the trail to gold than fight along side a ton of old geezers. Uhg.

Ren had been lost in thought, and he hadn't realized that Ryo was talking to someone else already. They had been talking for a moment already, and Ren hadn't caught on until he heard...

"Naturally, I didn't do it alone. I was with a few friends I made back in Hong Kong."

Ren peeked up a little again. But scowled, were they friends or not? And who was he talking to!? Yeesh. And he thought he was the hot and cold one.

Ren stood again, moving a little bit further in when he realized Ryo had moved closer to the phone, his voice more on a hush-hush level. Whoever was on the other end of the line must have been someone who knew of Ryo's path and all that was going on... He wanted to keep it private.

"They were at least trustworthy, but they couldn't hold a candle to you..."

Ren froze in place, staring at Ryo's profile with wide eyes and a sneer. Ohhh no. No, no. Ren knew that tone. That extremely subtle flirting. That damn tease - so similar to the way he spoke his name, the very thing that drove him up a damn wall. Ren gritted his teeth, knowing he was going to get a headache after all of this. There was no way he was talking to a girl, either. He could never be that suave with a woman.

"There were so many times when I wondered, what if I'd brought you with me to Hong Kong..."

Ren felt his stomach drop, every part of him washed with cold again...

That smile in Ryo's voice, that genuine care, who the hell was it on the other line!?

"Yeah, why?" Ryo muttered, a gentle lull to his tone.

No, no, maybe it was just a friend. Maybe he just knew that person really well. Maybe it was a brother or something? That had to be it. Ryo couldn't possibly talk to someone like that in a flirtatious manner... But he did hear a masculine tone on the other line as he stepped closer, pressed back against the wall.

"Are you blushing, Guizhang?"

Guizhang!? Who the fuck is Guizhang!? If he'd been told, he'd completely forgotten. But now, whoever he was, he had his scorn.

Ren thought he'd already heard the worst crap he could possibly hear while eavesdropping. He was wrong. This took the cake, and the presents, and the house. His ears were ringing, vision tunnelling, and his heart felt like it was about to give. All the fury he'd ever felt seemed to rise back into every single fiber of his being all at once. All over a stupid kid and a stupid mystery phone man and a stupid treasure! It was all stupid, worthless, useless crap!

It took all of his willpower not to stomp up to Ryo right then and there to confront him. Who the hell did he think he was!? How could this possibly get any worse!? He knew confronting him would be far worse than keeping his mouth shut, and pretending he heard nothing inside the wall of Niaowu Hotel... And that's what he would do. Erase this night, erase the ideals he had, erase any promises in a devil's heart.

But he wasn't going to leave Niaowu empty handed, and that meant shoving his heart as far down as it could go, deep into the crevices of his own personal hell in hopes that no one would ever find it again.

It was only a matter of time before Ryo would need him, and Ren was going to make it as clear as possible - he wanted treasure. Nothing more, nothing less.

#shenmue iii #shenmue iii spoilers #shenmue 3 #two faced #renxryo #ryo hazuki #ren wuying #fanfiction #angst #so much angst

2 notes · View notes

needdl · 6 years ago

Text

Distance

“I think you should go.”

Rated M

Read on FFN or AO3

this has actually been up on ffn and ao3 for a while- along with another piece, actually. i will be posting that one on tumblr as well, probably tomorrow.

“I think you should go.” Neji’s voice was tired- they had been up talking for hours now, but were both unwilling to go to bed.

“But-”

“Tenten.”

She fell quiet, staring at him with such raw emotion in her eyes that his chest echoed dully in response.

“This is such a huge opportunity for you.”

“But- five months.”

“I know.” Neji pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. “But it’s not as though we won’t be in contact. And I can come visit you a few times.”

“Yeah.” She clung to him tightly, hands gripping his shirt in clenched fists. “I’m going to miss you like crazy.”

“I’ll miss you too. But you’re really going to love the work that you’re doing.”

“Mm.” If possible, she held him even tighter. “Still gonna miss you.”

“You won’t leave for another three months. We have some time before we part.”

“‘Before we part.’ You’re very dramatic, my love.”

“And you’re very good at taking the tension out of a situation. Let’s go to bed.”

Tenten used her grip around his neck and shoulders as leverage to raise her legs and wrap them around his waist. “Only if you carry me.”

“Fine.” Neji hooked his hands underneath her thighs and turned them around to walk towards the bed. “Don’t get used to this. You have perfectly fine legs.”

“You certainly seem to think so.”

Neji stopped in the middle of the room, thrown off by the remark. “Pardon?”

He could feel Tenten smirk against his neck. “Don’t to deny it, you ogler. Every time I wear tights I’m twenty minutes late to work because you get all handsy.”

Neji had a brief moment to recollect flashes of tanned skin through sheer black fabric, and realized somewhat grumpily that he couldn’t even deny her statement.

Tenten left for China in February.

They spent their last evening together in their apartment, cooking dinner together and eating it in front of the fireplace. They were both unusually attached to one another- Tenten wound up curled in Neji’s lap, arms around his neck and shoulders as they rested their foreheads together and conversed in low voices.

They mostly ignored the meal they had cooked, although dessert- they had planned on having chocolate fondue- was… used, if not for the purpose they had initially intended.

Neji brought Tenten to the airport the next morning. They restrained themselves from causing too much of a scene, just embraced one another for a minute and separated with a short but warm kiss.

“I’ll text when I land, then again at the hotel,” Tenten told him. Her eyes were glimmering, but true to Tenten, she did not cry. Neji tenderly ran his thumb along her cheek.

“I love you,” he told her, resting his forehead against hers.

“I love you too,” she whispered. She leaned up and kissed him again, very softly, before stepping away from him and grabbing her suitcase.

“I’ll miss you,” she said. Neji nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets and clenching them into fists.

She gave him one last smile and turned towards the terminal, a white-knuckled grip on the handle of her suitcase. Neji watched her go until she disappeared in the crowd.

It certainly wasn’t easy adjusting to their long distance relationship- the first two weeks Tenten was gone, Neji felt a yawning chasm in his life where she normally filled it.

They quickly set a routine- Tenten called or video called him every night after she was done with her work from the day- and from her elated gushing over the phone, it was work that she loved.

They texted each other constantly, with the understanding that they wouldn’t always be able to respond immediately- the time difference between Konoha and Beijing wasn’t too difficult, but Neji’s days operated a few hours ahead of Tenten.

Once a week, they’d set up a Skype date and talk for hours at a time.

(Well, sometimes they did things… other than talk.)

There were the few nights when one of them had a difficult day and wasn’t in the mood for a long conversation, or had something occupying their time. Those nights, they’d settle with a simple text exchange before saying goodnight.

Gradually, the distance between them felt more normal- Neji still missed his partner, of course, very much- but he looked forward to talking to her at the end of the day. At one point he realized that there had been a large uptick in the frequency that Lee invited him out, and strongly suspected a collusion between him and Tenten to keep Neji socialized.

He had to admit that it was working- he and Lee either sparred in the dojo or got drinks together about once a week, which was certainly more than they had previously.

Still, Neji was looking forward to March, when he would be visiting Tenten for a long weekend in Beijing and celebrating her belated birthday.

The weekend after Tenten’s birthday, he took a cab to the airport at about 5:00 AM. His initial flight out was delayed, so he sent Tenten a quick text and settled into a seat to read his book.

He had just absorbed himself in the chapter when Tenten texted him back several sad-face emojis in a row, then sent a quick follow up text.

‘will watch flight info online and meet up w u at airport when u land. i’m excited!!! ❤️❤️❤️’

Neji smiled to himself and tucked his phone back into his pocket.

Naturally, Neji was in first class for his flight- it was a luxury he had grown up with, and he liked it far too much to give it up. His first and only time flying economy class- with Tenten, of course- hadn’t been terrible, but he was too accustomed to first class and had actively avoided economy class ever since.

It may or may not have been a minor point of contention between himself and Tenten- she disliked spending money when there was a cheaper option available, and would pointedly roll her eyes at him when she thought he was being frivolous. He would retort that just because something was less expensive didn’t mean it was a better choice. Tenten tended to buy things that broke down after a very short period of time, and constantly had to replace them. All in all, she was spending just as much, if not more than him on a product.

It was one of the things they fought about most, but once they’d moved in together it had settled over somewhat. Even if their apartment’s rent was more than the rent at Tenten’s old place, splitting it between their two incomes actually meant she was paying less than she had before, and could actually invest in her necessities.

(Neji had taken her to the store where his family bought most of their winter clothes, and Tenten had actually expressed shock over how warm her coat was. It gave Neji some mixed feelings- she definitely could have afforded warmer coats in the past, and he hated that she had just let herself be that cold for the sake of saving money.)

But still- Neji indulged and traveled almost exclusively in first class. (If Tenten was with him, they’d fly business class; a grudging compromise between them.)

Neji tried to do some work on the flight, but he was too distracted to get much done. He was mostly thinking about Tenten.

He hadn’t seen her in almost three weeks, and was eagerly anticipating seeing each other face-to-face again. He knew Tenten had some things she wanted to do with him in the city, and they’d likely spend the second and third days of their time together spending time with Tenten’s group of fellow students, who by all accounts she was becoming close with. But their first day reunited…

The flight attendant handed Neji his drink, stirring him from his (admittedly slightly risque) thoughts. He took it with a nod of thanks and turned his attention to look out the window.

Four hours, then he’d finally see her again.

Tenten chewed her lip in anticipation, eyes fixed to the entrance of the baggage claim area. Neji’s delayed flight had thrown her off a little. She’d been a bundle of nerves all week, unable to focus on her work and even getting a few inquiries from her colleagues about her behavior.

They’d all smirked a little bit when she told them her boyfriend was coming to visit her- apparently, she talked about Neji more than she realized. She’d left the night before amid wolf-whistles, knowing looks, and one loud, “Enjoy your weekend!”

And she was planning to, but first her boyfriend needed to arrive.

A flood of people came through the doors, and Tenten perked up eagerly only to sulk in disappointment when it became clear that Neji wasn’t among them. His flight had landed about half an hour ago, he should be at the baggage claim any second-

A few stragglers from the last crowd entered, but still no sign of Neji. Tenten was tempted to go through and find him herself.

Her phone buzzed, and she checked it hastily in case it was from Neji. It was just an email notification- once upon a time, Ino had nagged Tenten into signing up for a clothing store’s membership program, and now she was constantly getting spam.

Scrunching up her nose in vexation, Tenten tapped her way through unsubscribing from the store. She never used the discounts anyway; there really wasn’t a point to it anymore. Task complete, she put her phone back in her pocket and glanced back up at the entrance.

Her heart stopped in her throat. In the minute she’d been distracted, Neji had entered, and he was walking towards her now with his eyes fixed to her face.

For a few seconds, Tenten couldn’t get her feet to move at all.

Logically, she knew his appearance hadn’t changed- she had video called him two days ago, after all, and he looked much the same as he had then.

But something about seeing Neji in person- for the first time in three weeks - made her want to cradle his face in her hands and memorize its nuances.

(He was so handsome - how did she not fully remember that?)

After those first few seconds spent drinking in the sight of him, Tenten lurched into movement. She didn’t quite run to him, but they reached one another with a flurry of movement that ended with Tenten clinging desperately to Neji's shoulders as he leaned her back and kissed her with such urgency that she was left gasping for air.

He pulled back slightly and shifted her so she was upright again, pressing a few slower, more controlled kisses to her lips. Her head was swimming, but she did her best to reciprocate, feeling rather like one of the trembling maidens on the covers of the books Sakura pretended not to read.

Neji parted from her and rested his forehead against her own, eyes staring into hers.

“Hi,” Tenten whispered, biting her lip in an effort to contain the wide grin stretching across her face.

“Hi,” he echoed. He kissed her again, very softly, before finally stepping away and slipping his hand into hers. They stood and grinned at each other like idiots for a minute, before remembering the crowd around them and the luggage that still needed to be collected.

They were getting a few fish-eyed looks from the people around them, but as Tenten tucked herself against Neji's side while he grabbed his luggage, she realized that she definitely didn't care.

Tenten drove them back from the airport in a colleague’s borrowed car, filling up the air with excited chatter about her work, and showing him around, and how happy she was to see him.

He couldn’t have gotten a word in edgewise if he’d tried- Tenten still maintained that she didn’t talk as much as, say, Naruto or Ino, but once she got started on something, it was hard to stop her.

Not that Neji wanted to. He was, quite frankly, starstruck at the sight of her, and was still drinking in the fact that he was back in her presence. He sat quietly in the passenger’s side of the car and watched her speak, letting her words wash over him and feeling the gap in his life slowly fill up again.

He must have been gazing at her like a man starved, because every time she glanced over at him she’d quickly dart her face away again, a flush slowly rising on her face.

They reached the building where Tenten was staying and parked in the alloted spot, then sat in the car and kissed one another for a good half an hour.

Neji was a little embarrassed when he pulled apart from Tenten- for a brief moment, he needed to catch his breath- and realized how much time had passed since they had arrived. The sight of Tenten’s face easily persuaded him to lean over again, her mouth a puckered red and her hair a tousled mess from where he had been cupping her head. She also had such a languid, wanton look on her face that Neji really had no choice but to swoop back in and tease a moan from her throat.

They finally got out of the car- both flushed red and feeling a little light-headed- and went up the stairs and towards Tenten’s apartment. They committed to some level of decorum once they entered the building and kept themselves the slightest bit apart. Tenten had fallen rather quiet, but based off the expression on her face- biting her lip, a dark flush, brows just the slightest bit cinched- she was filled with anticipation.

They entered the apartment quietly, and stopped a few feet into the foyer. Tenten seemed a little awkward now, as if she hadn’t planned for what they’d do after they got back to her place.

Fortunately, Neji had some ideas.

He set his bags down carelessly and snagged Tenten by the waist, stepping closer and ducking his head down to mouth at her pulse. She inhaled sharply, throwing one hand over his shoulders and wrapping her other arm around him to grip the fabric covering his mid-back.

They spent several more minutes like that, kissing rather desperately and with quite a bit of tongue. Finally, Tenten pulled away with a gasp.

“O-oh-” She panted against his shoulder for a minute, her grip slowly easing where her hand had twined itself into his hair. Sensing a shift in their affection, Neji relaxed his own stance so he was cradling her close to him, slowly rubbing her back.

There was less tension between them now, replaced by tenderness and- fulfillment. After a moment, Tenten lifted her head again and pressed her lips very gently against his.

They kissed sweetly for a minute or two, then Neji slowly eased back. “Give me the tour?”

“Sure,” Tenten said, somewhat breathlessly. She grabbed his larger suitcase and dragged it behind her as she went further into the apartment. Neji grabbed his other bag and followed her into the kitchen silently.

It was small but well furnished, with surprisingly new-looking countertops. Neji could see another room and a hallway leading off from where he was, but the door was partially closed and the lights dimmed, making the contents difficult to make out.

The kitchen flowed into the sitting area, which held a plush-looking sofa, a coffee table, a bookshelf, and the TV on the armoire. There was also a side table with a lamp and a few knickknacks, as well as a shelf holding a few plants and a couple of picture frames.

He couldn’t see them perfectly, but one of the pictures was definitely a picture of them from Temari’s birthday party a few years ago, both dressed nicely and looking- well, Tenten looked beautiful, Neji supposed he had looked handsome.

It was towards the end of the evening, and they’d both had a few drinks in them when Sakura had snapped the picture. They were seated at the table and Tenten was leaning into Neji’s side, head propped up on one hand with the other tucked into the crook of her elbow. Neji was sitting with one arm over the back of her chair and the other resting on the table. Sakura had told them to “say cheese!” before she took the photo, and in an unusually public display of affection Neji had pressed his lips to Tenten’s temple before turning to face the camera.

Sakura had photographed the moment Tenten had understood his actions, and so the picture showed her smiling impossibly affectionately up at Neji as he in turn smiled warmly up at the camera.

Lee had said, once he saw the picture, that Tenten had “heart eyes”, which Neji didn’t really understand but made Tenten flush and get all squeaky.

It was one of his favorite photos of them, and it filled him with fondness that Tenten seemingly liked it so much as well.

“Well, this is the kitchen-” Tenten gestured around them rather vaguely- “then the sitting area, and through there is the office slash laundry room, and then that hallway leads to the bathroom and bedroom. Oh, I cleared out some space for your stuff, I know you’re only here for four days but I know how you like to organize your things…”

Neji hummed in agreement.

“Speaking of which, let’s go have sex.”

Neji was mid-agreement hum when he realized what she said, and choked off rather abruptly.

Tenten snorted. “Dork. But also, I’m serious. I put on silk sheets and everything.”

“Tenten, it is-” He paused and checked her watch. “A little after 1:00.”

“I’ve always found that to be a particularly sexy time of day…”

“It’s practically lunchtime.”

“Mmm. And I know what I want to eat.”

Neji's responding flush made Tenten laugh and kiss his cheek. Fondly, she told him, “C’mon, babe. I want to stretch you out and admire you.”

Neji’s flush made its way down his neck and over his ears, but it certainly didn’t stop him from following Tenten into the bedroom.

Tenten woke up the next morning with sun streaming in through the window and Neji’s mouth on her clit.

She threw her head back into her pillow and let out a hiss, her hands flying up to twine into the hair on Neji’s head and pull. He responded in kind, sucking at tender skin and squeezing her hips hard in his hands.

She came undone almost embarrassingly quickly- but they’d been up all night after an entire month spent apart, so she was admittedly a little tender and her stamina was lower.

But Neji was trying his damndest to increase it as much as he could in a single week. And though at the moment Tenten wasn’t able to walk without her knees wobbling, she certainly was enjoying herself immensely.

Neji pulled away from her, but she didn’t dare to look at him- she just knew he’d be licking at his lips and looking insufferably smug.

After a moment of silence, he said amicably, “Good morning.”

“Yeah. Uh, hi.”

Neji’s hands pulled away from her thighs, and a few moments later he was shifting himself up so he was propped over her on his elbows. His hair fell over his shoulders in a tousled mess, and Tenten was a little regretful she hadn’t woken up in time to see it tangled across his shirtless back- one of her favorite sights in the world, and one she had been badly missing in the past month.

But then again, she thought to herself as Neji dipped his head to thoroughly kiss her breathless, this was nice too.

Neji pulled away from her and shifted so he laid on the bed next to her, one arm draped over her waist. He tucked his head back against her neck and collarbone, then, after a moment of consideration, grazed her warm skin with his teeth.

Tenten wiggled at the sensation. “Neji-”

“I meant to ask you last night,” he interrupted with a murmur (and normally she’d be irritated, because she hated it when people interrupted her, and when Neji did it she disliked it even more- but right now she was still riding the high of her pleasant awakening, and Neji smelled quite good, and it was just post-coital talk, nothing important, so she’d let it slide) “This necklace-” he reached to hook his fingers under the delicate gold chain that was tumbling down her neck and over the tops of her breasts. “You didn’t have this when you first left, did you? I don’t recognize it.”

Oh. Tenten flushed a little, because that was true, and the way she had gotten it was one of the most embarrassingly sentimental, lovelorn, sappy things she’d ever done.

“Uh-” her mind stuttered for excuses. “It’s, uh-”

Neji waited patiently, running his fingers over the chain (and coincidentally, her skin). He wasn’t looking at her face at all, which made it easier for her to blurt out, “Okay, you can’t laugh.”

His fingers never ceased stroking her skin. “All right.”

“Well-” Ugh, this was so cheesy. Tenten kept her gaze on the ceiling, refusing to look at Neji. No way would she be able to get it out if she had to actually look at him. “It was the first couple of weeks after I had left Konoha, and- I mean, you remember what it was like, I missed you a lot-”

The movement of Neji’s fingers slowed minutely, and Tenten got the impression he was listening very intently. “And- well- I was out with a few colleagues just touring around, and a few of us wanted to check out some shops and we went into this little jewelry shop and I just- I saw it, and I was thinking of you, and then I bought it.” She glared defiantly at the ceiling.

Neji’s hands stopped moving completely, and after a moment he said, “I missed you too, Tenten but I still don’t see how the necklace has anything to do with that.”

Tenten rolled her eyes at the brusqueness of his statement, but reached up and pushed his hand away to grab the necklace and show him the tiny, minuscule capital N that dangled off the delicate chain.

Neji lifted his head from her neck to look at it closer. “That’s- an ‘N’? Why...”

Tenten waited for his genius brain to kick in.

Neji paused, then asked haltingly, “Is that… is it… does the ‘N’...”

Tenten’s cheeks burned, and she muttered, “It’s really not too difficult of a connection, Nnnneji.” The emphasis was a tad obvious, but she wanted to get the conversation over with.

“I- I see.” Neji’s hand, which he had settled over her hip when she moved it, minutely tightened its grip. In the next few seconds he flipped them both over so Tenten was lying haphazardly under him while he buried his face in the space between her neck and shoulder, holding her in his embrace so tightly it was almost painful.

Tenten blinked a few times, a little startled at the reaction. Cautiously, she raised a hand to smooth down the strands of hair at the base of his neck. “Neji?”

If possible, he held her even closer. After a moment he lifted his head and pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, then abruptly got up and walked out of the room without a word.

Tenten squinted after him. “Neji? You okay?” He’d had only his briefs on, so he definitely wasn't planning on just walking out of the apartment.

He came sweeping back in a minute later and sat back down on the bed, then leaned over her and set something down on her stomach.

“Marry me.”

Tenten’s head, which she had been craning awkwardly to see what he had brought her, snapped back up. There wasn’t a trace amount of anything other than seriousness in his expression- but then, she hadn’t expected there to be anything else.

“Huh,” she said, grabbing what she now realized was a small velvet box off of her stomach and popping it open. The ring wasn’t extravagant- just a simple band of platinum with diamonds, rubies, and aquamarines studded into it.

(Keyword being extravagant- that’s not to say it wasn’t expensive.)

“I will.” Tenten said absently, picking the ring out of the box. “Marry you, I mean,” she clarified, sliding it onto her ring finger and giving an experimental wiggle. It didn’t have any parts that would stick out and catch on anything, which she appreciated.

“We should have a longer engagement, though- maybe a year and a half? That way I can finish up in China, then we’ll have time to plan things out- I’m sure your family has a lot of traditions, so we’ll have to haggle that out with them...”

She glanced up at Neji for the first time since she’d put the ring on. He was staring at her ring finger, seemingly transfixed, looking so open and vulnerable that her heart clenched.

“Hey.” Tenten leaned over and placed her left hand over his. He jerked his head up to meet her gaze, and she grinned at him.

“We’re engaged.”

Slowly, he grinned back, looking both triumphant and boyishly sheepish. “We’re engaged.” He turned his hand over to lace their fingers together, then brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it tenderly.

Tenten could only stand the affection for a few seconds before she had to jump up and get away from him to hide her flush. “You want breakfast?”

She peeked at Neji out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her with his head tilted to the side, that same exultant smile tugging in his lips.

“If you’re making it dressed like that, definitely.”

Tenten paused and glanced down at her fully nude figure, then shrugged and continued towards the kitchen. “Fine, but I’m going to wear an apron for protective purposes.”

“Even better.” She could hear him shuffle around on the bed, presumably swinging his legs over and standing up.

Three steps out of the bedroom, Tenten paused and stared at the contents of Neji’s suitcase where they were scattered across the floor. “Uh-”

“Ah.” Neji placed a hand on her waist and looked over her shoulder at the mess. “I was in a hurry to get the ring. I’ll put my things away while you make breakfast.” He paused for a second, then thoughtfully dropped his head down and pressed a kiss to her neck.

The slightest shiver went up Tenten’s spine. “That eager to get me affianced, huh?”

“You have no idea.” Neji stepped back from her and knelt in front of his luggage. “I started ring shopping after our six-month anniversary.”

Tenten’s foot caught itself over the air, and she stumbled. “What?”

Neji just smirked up at her. “It was a good date.”

“I mean-” Tenten thought back to the sight of her office filled with flowers in the morning, followed by a delivery of her favorite lunch, and Neji picking her up at a little after five to take her to dinner at a very nice restaurant. (Plus, well, they’d gone back to his place- to exchange gifts, among… other things.)

It was a good date, but it wasn’t as if it had so spectacular that she was suddenly irresistible to Neji- after all, he’d informed her a few weeks prior to their anniversary that he loved her.

(She was on her way out of her apartment that morning, already running a few minutes late because someone didn’t want to let her out of their shower. Neji didn’t have to leave for work until later, and was making a point of walking around clad only in a towel, his wet hair dripping some very distracting trails of water down his chest. Tenten had paused to kiss him goodbye, and after he pulled away he told her, “You should know that I love you.”

“’Kay,” she replied, and left, clicking the door shut behind her to make sure it latched.

She was halfway down the stairs before she realized what he said.)

Tenten frowned at Neji in contemplation. “What was so significant about our anniversary? It was a nice night, but it wasn’t super unusual for us.”

Neji’s attention was suddenly diverted with laser-like intensity to neatly folding a sweater. “Hn.”

Tenten let out a little sputter, half amused and half offended. She hadn’t heard him say that in a while.

“Excuse you-”

“It was the first time you’d spent the night at my home.” Neji’s sweater was extremely folded. “It just… made me realize… that I wanted you in my life for as long as you would have me in yours.”

Ugh, Neji . Every once in a while, he’d turn a phrase that made her heart go pitter-pat in her chest. And he always meant them so earnestly- Tenten knew that her presence in Neji’s life had lightened it considerably, but he was still one of the most serious people she knew. But it meant that everything he did, he committed himself to fully. Romance included.

She didn’t tell Neji this, of course. Tenten got all flushed and squirmy when Neji’s intense affection was directed at her for too long.

Instead she leaned over and patted his head. “Save it for the vows, babe.” She turned around and started to walk into the kitchen, only to let out a shriek as Neji suddenly looped his arms under her ass and sort of tackle-dropped her on the ground.

“‘Save it for the vows’,” he muttered, hooking one of her thighs around his waist. He laced her left hand with his right and pinned it to the ground near her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Tenten grinned up at him. “I’m one-hundred percent original, bay-beeee.”

Neji very effectively used his mouth to shut her up.

#nejiten #neji #tenten #fanfic #my writing

33 notes · View notes