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cupoftaae · 1 year ago

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Forever And A Day (KTH x READER) series ♡ Francis Forever (chapter 17)

Summary: your lifelong friend is forced to face his true feelings for you once he breaks the number one rule of becoming friends with benefits: dont fall in love. He knows he loves you, but you on the other hand need more convincing of the most important thing: the right decision.

Genre: fwb. Roommates, friends to idiots to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, the whole 9 yards tbh.

Pairing: taehyung x female!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni!!!)

word count- 5k

warnings- swearing, angst, mentions of miscarriage, confused feelings, some kissing (some smut not really its like 2 seconds), REALLY EMO

a/n- guys....we have reached the final chapter of Forever And A Day, oh my god. Ive worked on this story since January, its very dear to me, Thank you for everyone who tagged along. I love you so much! there will still be an Epilogue posted as well. Enjoy the chapter angels

-nini

Your feet led you down to the kitchen, where your mom was currently cleaning.

"hi honey" she mumbled, not turning around to see you as she scrubbed the top of the stove.

"hey.." you walk over, opening the fridge and looking for something to snack on. Granted- there was something made for breakfast but you hadn't woken up until 12pm. Technically, it was now lunch.

"do you want me to make you something?"

You peer over to your mom whos putting things away in the storages

"no thats okay" you grab a sleeve of crackers from the cabinet and some cream cheese, opting to sit at the kitchen island with your sad "meal"

"thats not lunch, missy" your mother scolded as she turned to you finally

"meh" you shoved the cracker in your mouth as you watched her grab her coat from the hanger. "where are you going?" you spoke with a full mouth.

"I have to run to the store"

"didnt you just go the other day?"

Your mom peered over her shoulder, waiting a moment "yes...but, I forgot to grab...uh....planter feed, for my little window plants" she nodded over in the direction of them.

"okay....can I come?" you mumble, throwing another dry cracker into your mouth.

"no" she laughed, making you look up

"what, why?"

"because" she began to ramble "well...I love you but Ive spent every minute with you this week, its good to be alone for a few hours"

You raised an eyebrow as if you didnt believe her.....because you didnt. "okayyy..." your voice dragged out

"ill be back in no time, no worried dear." she grabbed her bag and walked to the door, "ill bring you back a coffee" she winked as she left.

Once you heard the door lock, you stood up, licking the cream cheese off your fingers.

why was she in such a hurry to be gone?

Your feet wandered over to the little plant cabinet she had, opening it to see a freshly stocked basket of soil feed packets. Of course she was lying.

She was probably looking for an excuse to see that guy shes been talking to for months now. Why would she lie though? does she think you couldn't handle it?

Chosing to ignore it, you picked up her cat and made your way upstairs to your room, sitting down at your desk.

These days you werent out much, last time you saw other people was 2 days ago when you went to go grab the mail from the mailbox in the pouring rain. Nonetheless, you still loved to get yourself dolled up as if you were going out.

You applied some makeup, carefully drawing out your eyeliner to a sharp point. The way you applied your face could be compared to how you applied yourself to everything else in life- strict and neat, and you hated when you had a smudge

You pushed through your makeup bag, searching for a certain lipstick that you are now realizing you left back in Paris.

"that was $20" you sigh, standing up to wander to your moms room. Surely she has something to use, shes always been one to paint her face, she used to let you play "makeover" when you were young, which might be why you love it so much now. It was always enjoyable, even if you made her look like a clown a bit.

You wondered where she would keep her makeup, as it wasnt in her bathroom. A quick scan around the room brought you over to her vanity drawers.

"ahh, there we go" you happily looked at all of the collective lipsticks and palettes sprawled out in front of you. You grasped a few of them to look for one you would use, when your eyes fell onto a folder underneath all it.

Pulling it out and carefully looking inside, because you were snoopy even with your mothers belongings, you saw what appeared to be a booklet of Polaroid photos.

You giggled softly at the cute older photos of your mom when she was younger, the silly gestures in the photos reminded you that she too is human and has her own emotions.

You came across a specific one in the pile where your mom was looking out the window in her old apartment, obviously pregnant.

that was you.

Smiling softly, you slid through the last bits before picking up one that made your breath hitch.

Your dad.

She still kept every photo. Hidden.

Photos of your dad sitting on the deck of the house with newborn you resting on his chest, photos of him not knowing your mom was even there while he did tiny activities, like fixing or repainting something.

It was so real and so raw, and you wanted to criticize your mother for keeping all of these, because as you looked at his face, you felt nothing but anger.

But you had to remember she spent a majority of her life with him...she had a kid with him....and you almost felt a sense of sympathy for her and the life she thought she would have with him.

He ruined so many things and even after all of that, she cant toss the photos.

Its never really over, huh?

You knew deep down that you should've respected your moms privacy and left the room, considering you were only on the look for a lipstick.

But you found yourself still digging an hour later, looking at photos and notes and everything in between. In a way, you felt like the snooping mom looking into her daughters room.

Perhaps you shouldnt have, but you took one of the photos and kept it for yourself. It was of your mom, she had to have been your age in it, and she was standing in front of the old ice cream place she always took you to before it got demolished.

She looked so happy and pure, she had that gleam in her eyes that you struggle to find in her nowadays.

You put the photo into your bag, making sure it was flat and not bent.

With any lesson learnt from your parents, its that your biggest fear is to spend your life in the wrong situation, trying to make it work only for it to end up as the opposite, and leave you with a broken heart.

But on the other hand, you also realize that you dont want to be like your mom, although you admire and adore her, you want to find your place so desperately, and not let any opportunity go to waste.

The doorbell downstairs rang, startling you a little as you rose to your feet, trying to head down quickly.

"coming!" you shout, your bare feet leading you to the locked door. You open it and see a young man with a pizza in his hand. "oh!"

He bows his head polietly, "Hi, pizza for Y/N?"

You almost laugh, "ah...I didnt order anything?"

you thought for a moment and considered that your mother probably ordered it for you, knowing that your choice of meal this morning was crackers and cream cheese.

"its already paid for" he spoke again

"im sorry but-" you sigh "okay....thanks?" you reach out, almost burning your hands at how warm the box was. You dropped it off on the kitchen counter and looked at it.

It was cheese and bacon, your favorite, how did your mom know that?

"should I trust this?" you looked down at the cat crawling over your feet, she smelled the yummy food just above and was trying to access it.

Before you could grab your phone to call her, you heard the doorbell ring again. "seriously...?"

once more, your feet dashed you over as you opened the door, assuming it would be another delivery. You dropped your phone onto the floor as the person standing in front of you turned around.

"I hope you are open to sharing that pizza" Taehyung spoke quietly, a small smile on his face.

"what are you doing here....?" you looked at him like a deer in headlights; scared, relieved, shocked, happy all in one.

He calmed his expression and stepped a bit closer, "can I come in?"

You stepped back and thought for a moment

"please....?" he persisted

"y-yeah..yeah come in" you stepped away and watched him slowly enter the house, taking his shoes off before turning back to you. He didnt have a moment to speak before you threw yourself into his chest, wrapping him up into a tight hug.

His arms snaked around you, pulling you closer as both of your breathing became uneven.

"i-im so sorry...i missed you a lot and I havent texted and, fuck, youre here and im so-"

"shhh...shhh" his hand held your nape as you looked at you, forehead against yours, "dont apologize its okay"

"but-"

"no...lets just go sit down and talk" he whispered, rubbing your back.

You exhaled shakily "okay"

You led him over to the kitchen, still in absolute shock at the fact he is here with you right now. All of the guilt began to seep back in the moment you saw his face.

You took a seat at the counter and looked at him, the sun peaking in through the blinds, leaving stray lines of orange through the room.

He smiled and looked around, pulling the seat out next to you as he sat down.

"So.." you looked at him, swallowing harshly. "wh-"

"your mom called me" he spoke honestly, sitting down and shielding the sun with his hand. "I was worried sick about you, I cant lie"

Yep. Guilt.

"and I didnt wanna bother you, but she called me and said that you wanted to see me so..." he smirked a little, looking down.

You sigh loudly, "oh tae.....i never told her to tell you to come...."

He laughed, throwing his head back "ah I figured sort of...I knew you would have probably texted me yourself"

You nod, stomach fluttering at the sound of his amusement. "yeah..'m sorry for not texting, that was really shitty of me Tae"

"dont apologize, youve gone through a lot, I understand its not easy to jump back in yet...and thats okay." he whispered "but...how are you? what are you feeling?"

"right now? im....im honestly really happy you showed up...."

"yeah?"

You nod, "mhm, i, er, missed you" you fumbled with your words, not wanting to sound needy or desperate.

"I missed you too" his response was quick.

you both looked at eachother for a few moments silently, before you spoke up, "you ordered that pizza, didnt you?"

He began to laugh, "yeah I did"

"I knew my mom wouldnt know I liked bacon...." you giggled, he moved a little closer and smiled.

"and listen, im not here to course you to coming back to Busan, I just wanted to come check on you...because you know I love you always"

You felt your face heat up, "I know...I know tae, I love you too."

"how are you physically?" he spoke quietly

Shrugging, you answered truthfully, "I think Im okay....my body is beginning to go back to normal, so....."

"good, thats good" he nods

"mhm...im glad I have my mom, but I really did miss having you nearby, and I know you dont want to hear it but I have to say it" you mumbled

"you can talk, y/n"

"im so sorry...for everything....its not fair-"

"but-"

"just listen please, its not fair...what I did to you, and I shouldnt have left, that was so shitty to leave you back in Paris knowing you were hurting too"

His face softened

"and what I did has been haunting me so much that I was afraid to contact you in fears you resented me....in fears that perhaps you hated me now-" your voice choked

"y/n, no, no," he grabbed your hands, "I could never hate you....never ever" he whispered moving to see your eyes, "listen to me, It was a bad situation, and perhaps we could have done better, yes, but stop apologizing for dealing with grief."

He wiped the tear stain on your cheek, holding your face close to his, whispering, "does your mom still have popsicles in the freezer?"

The random question made you laugh, "what?"

"this is serious, y/n, does she?"

"I- I think?" you stood and watched him search, successfully finding them. "why?"

He smirked, "you know why" he grabbed 2 and held your hand, bringing you upstairs to your room, opening the window and climbing out to the ledge of the roof

A place you two always sat during your high school days...with popsicles.

"ohh...." you giggled, now understanding his method to the madness.

"been a longgg time since we sat here, why didnt we do it when we visited a few months ago?" he smiled, opening the wrapper and licking the watermelon pop

"Im not sure..." you opened your own, happy that the sun wasn't directly on you two anymore.

Taehyung laid back against the roof, eyes on you from behind. Its been so long since hes seen you, and with every passing day he grew more impatient.

When he got the phone call from your mom, he knew it was mostly her doing, but he was not about to pass up a free opportunity to see you, even knowing the risk of you despising him was still high.

He wanted to call you beautiful, the way the orange sky illumintaed on your skin, it blended perfectly, it was straight out of a disney Princess movie.

He had no clue as to what label you two stood as, was it okay to call you baby? there was never an official breakup. Was it too much to want to kiss you as soon as he saw your face? his body yearned for you in every way, he missed the feeling of your hand in his and your body on his chest at night.

He missed all of you, and it hasnt even been that long.

"you know..." he began, closing his eyes, "Im starting to think im a bit too dependent on you" his voice was teasing,

"why do you say that?" you looked back at him, licking the popsicle.

He shrugged, smirking, "just cant seem to stay away...."

"i dont understand you" you laugh, looking forward again. "ive been such an ass, Taehyung"

"youre not an ass you just feel things deeply and I love that about you"

"is this some kind of kink?" you joke, watching him laugh

"maybe?"

You shake your head as you continue to eat the pop, "I dont shame"

He looked up at the sky, glaring at a plane flying across. He wondered if you two could be seen from the window.

He wondered how tiny and insignificant you would appear to the passengers aboard, who had no idea what situation you both were dealing with, like how he didnt know what they were dealing with.

Life is weird like that.

What problems you have and seem huge may seem meaningless to others, or how from space, you are the size of a grain of salt. It puts things into perspective, and over the past few weeks, hes been thinking about everything deeply and truly....deciding that although it may change nothing, seeing you was the best option.

"Tae?" you spoke, noticing how quiet he got

"remember when we were 16 and it was Easter? My family was over with yours, and you and I climbed up here after dinner and tried to smoke my dads cigarettes for the first time?" he laughed at the memory

You smile, "I smoked it wrong and began to choke"

You both were giggling again now

"you almost swallowed it, how does one fuck up smoking so badly?"

You nudge him, "hey!"

He shrugged, still smiling

"you are quite the smoker yourself now, huh?"

"I grew up with him smoking so yeah, I sort of picked up on it"

You nod, listening

"you hate it though, right?" he smirked

"well you are a grown man, you can chose to do as you please"

"oh cmon dont play coy, you know you would never give up a chance to scold me for it"

"yeah youre right" you sigh at his knowingness "I worry about your lungs!" you tease

"my lungs are okay" he smiled as you laid down on the roof next to him, the sun casting both of your shadows behind you.

"you dont know that!"

"trust baby, if anything was wrong youd be the first to know"

You froze after he called you baby, it wasn't like you two had been gone for years, but neither of you had been lovey in over a month, it felt almost foreign, almost wrong.

He wasnt going to apologize, it did slip, but did he regret it?

nope.

His eyes scanned over yours, softly and lovingly as he moved his hand over your hair, pushing it out of your eyes.

You stared at him, an expression reading shock. He pulled away slightly

"am I making you uncomfortable?" he seemed worried that he stepped too far, scaring you.

"n-no!" you spoke, reaching for his hand. "it just feels odd you know? its not you, its just...."

"been a while" he finished for you

"yeah..."

You still felt safe with him, how could you not?

You didnt want him to make the assumption that you were not okay with his touch anymore, because that definitely was not the case.

You slowly cuddled closer to him, both of you laid on your backs as your head rested on his shoulder, his head leaning against yours.

Both of your lips were painted pink and red from the popsicles, it made you smile.

The sky above you two seemed so big, so endless.

Staring at it was almost frightening.

You reached for his hand and intertwined his fingers with yours, he quickly squeezed yours out of affection.

"ahh..." he spoke up suddenly, voice quiet. "I shouldnt.....I shouldnt have taken you to Paris"

You looked up at him

"maybe the plane ride was too much? maybe your body couldnt handle the stress?" he exhaled shakily, eyes still up at the sky. "Im sorry...I really am"

"you dont have to apologize for anything" you turned your body on your side so you faced him, though he still wouldn't look at you.

"hey.." you tried again, "you know, my mom told me she also miscarried when I was 3 years old...and thats why she never had kids after me"

He closed his eyes, squeezing your hand

"So I guess its runs in the family.....not our fault" you shrugged, "Its breaks my heart but...we dont have to blame ourselves"

He turned his head to your finally at the sound of your voice cracking, He brought you closer to his chest, hand rubbing your back. Taehyung swallowed harshly, clearing his throat to talk quietly "I've been...having a hard time dealing with it.

You rested your hand on his chest, looking at him sympathetically. His eyes were now watery, it took a lot to not cry yourself.

Youve already cried.

Youve cried so much

Perhaps you were now accepting the miscarriage for what it was, you were even able to say it aloud now, and thats growth.

You wished the same for Taehyung.

"that's okay, too" you whisper, hand snaking around to brush his hair between your fingers behind his head.

His eyes went back up to the now purple sky, tears reflecting the image in front of you. "do you think they are up there?" he smiled softly, rubbing your back still.

You look up at the sky, the clouds creating a beautiful set up as the sun set behind them. The world felt blanketed and secured in this moment, almost safe.

"yeah" you whisper, squeezing his hand, "but they are also here...with us, you know?"

He looks at you, tear marks on his face as you move to wipe them with your sleeve. "I think we will always be parents, that cant change. I feel that connection so deeply, and I know you do too. They arent gone, they just arent in this world" you add.

Taehyung smiled softly at your words, nodding slowly, "yeah....yeah youre right"

His thumb runs over your knuckles, calming you both down.

"I cant get myself to get rid of anything...like the stuff we bought." you mumble, looking down at your hands.

He chuckled, "mmh, you dont have too."

You sighed and looked at him again, a warm blush coating your cheeks.

"you know...I dont give you enough credit" he spoke "youve been through so much"

"Tae..." you brush his hair back, "youve given me everything....we need to look ahead...the past cant be changed."

He slides his hand under the hem of your shirt, touching the soft skin on your hip bone. It wasn't promiscuous or anything, simply an act of love and affection, silently showing you he's here and is listening.

"Im really sad" he choked out

You hugged him close as he began to cry into your shoulder

"its okay baby, its okay....its okay to be sad, you dont have to be strong for me" your hand caressed his back. "I love you so much, please know that"

He took a moment to calm down before pulling back to look at you, "y-youre right....we do need to look forward now"

You nod softly, holding his face.

You were a little worried to see him in this state, you didnt know he was feeling this and keeping it down for so long.

All you could do was comfort him and be there.

"I just.....are we still...." he trailed off, making you smile as you cupped his face again, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks lovingly.

"mm" you slowly leaned forward to kiss him

It was a nice kiss, not too slow but not too fast, just what was needed after a month of distance and no contact.

He blushed brightly, holding you as he whispered, "do you think we could start over? I really want to treat you right, and I want this to work. We can work it out right? the correct way this time?" his voice wavered

You nodded, still looking at him "yes....we can try again, the right way" you giggled as he leaned forward to kiss you again, this time a little quicker.

He bit your bottom lip, hands gently squeezing your hips

"baby-" you exhaled into his mouth, gently pulling back to look at him. "maybe we shouldnt"

"why?" he frowned, almost looking like a little kid

"well for starters we are on my roof" you giggled, sitting up

Taehyung smiled and looked around

"and....I dont know...sex is what brought us this mess" you teasingly nudged him, making him laugh. "lets just be with eachother for a little bit and let our feelings lead us to what happens"

He sighed, knowing you were right. "okay....can I still cuddle you though?" he whispered, making you coo at his cuteness.

"of course, lets go"

You slowly led him back into your room off the roof, closing the window before settling down on the bed with him. "when are you going back to Busan?"

He held you, face hidden in your neck "maybe in a few days...I dont want to leave you yet if thats okay"

"okay...thats fine, but, I think I'll head back with you...."

He smiled, rubbing your back "yeah?"

"mm" you kissed his head, closing your eyes.

You were still healing. To say you fully recovered was not true, but as you sat in his arms things felt normal again, even if it would be temporary.

Perhaps you needed to be with him to fully heal, to fully be yourself. Taehyung was your other half, and he knew you better than anyone. To give this another chance is like a breath of fresh air.

Putting your pasts behind you in hopes of feeling happiness again, in hopes of both of you becoming better people for each other.

Taehyung doesnt want to leave you, ever, and you cant say you want him to.

You dont spend half of your life with someone then let them run away just because things go downhill.

If your father was in your presence, you would teach him this lesson.

When you love someone, you hold their hand and walk through hard times together, you dont let them leave over something that both of you know you would need eachother's support for. To think- you almost let him out of your grasp, you almost lost him.

And Taehyung loved you so much...that if you asked him to leave....he would have.

You dont know what the future entails, and yes, its fucking terrifying. Life is scary, theres ups and downs, and suprises and failure, but theres also a lot of love, and happiness, and success if you look hard enough.

You do hope one thing for sure, and thats that he will be at your side as you grow up, to be there when you are right and wrong, healthy or sick, happy or sad.

As you both began to pick up the pieces of what was broken, you appreciated the past, knowing you had to let it go, but it also brought you here, back into where you feel most safe.

You renovated the apartment and turned the Nursery into a craft room for Taehyungs painting. He kept all of the baby belongings in the closet, hoping for the day in the future when he would open it again and feel that sense of excitement but nervousness.

You continued work and college classes, pursuing your acting career that youve always wanted, and when you graduated, Taehyung would never let you forget how much he admired you.

He kissed your neck softly, his hand pressed into yours as he hovered above you, "so beautiful, my love...."

you bit your lip before exhaling a shaky moan "ohh..f-fuck"

"so smart....youre so perfect baby, I love you"

He kissed you gently, still moving his hips against yours as you held him close to you, fluttering your eyes shut.

things had settled into place once again.

Taehyung got offered a job as an art teacher at the college you graduated from, taking the full time position while you worked at the local theatre, producing and preforming sold out plays every weekend.

The saving money part was hard for him, he wanted to buy you anything you laid your eyes on.

"did you seriously buy the couch?!" you tossed your bag, running from the doorway to the living room to see the grey couch you had pointed out shopping with him literally the day prior.

He shrugged, "yeah...whats the big deal?"

"taehyung!" you giggled and hugged him.

He was too spontaneous for his own good.

A few years passed, and looking at your current life now, you would not believe how much had changed. You can say for the first time in a while you felt happy...and oh what an exciting and freeing feeling that was.

"I love youuuu! my baby!!!!!" taehyung danced around on the icy sidewalk outside of your apartment door, it was new years eve and he was drunk.

very...very drunk.

He pointed at you as he sang, "my babyyyy! woo!"

You giggled, sitting on the steps and recording your man child boyfriend whom you loved so much. "baby be careful dont sl-"

too late.

He fell on his ass, laughing so hard he almost puked, which of course made you laugh too.

"cmon ya big baby" you ran over and helped him inside. Midnight had already passed earlier, pre-drunk taehyung had danced with you around the living room, gifting you a small kiss once the clock read midnight.

"hm, I dont get it, whats so different about a new years kiss? its like every other one?" you laughed after his lips left yours.

"well its special because I get to be the first to kiss you in the new year" he smiled cheekily

"tae...your the only one who gets to kiss me any year" you point at him

"damn right" he snaps his fingers at you as he walks past into the other room.

Every holiday you spent with him felt special, every event, every grocery run, it all felt so much more authentic now.

You two were in your mid twenties now, and a lot of mental growth had come along with that. With pride, you can say you were better people than before, and thats why things worked so well.

You could easily live like this forever.....

it was basically an endless sleepover with your best friend. You were okay if you could come home and see his face waiting for you on the couch.

Your sweet boy.

You had no idea what was gonna happen next, whether that was marriage, or another attempt at having kids- you felt ready.

Ready to give him anything he wanted in return for him saving you.

You could do anything, be anywhere or anyone, in good or bad conditions, and you will still only crave him.

Your lover.

You want him for months

for years

for eternity...

For Forever And A Day.

And God knows he felt the same.

A/N- wow guys....this is it....I cannot thank you enough for reading my first story on here, im not perfect at writing but you guys keep me motivated and confident in my work, and I love you for that. This will not be the end of this couple, we still have the Epilogue as well as eventual drabbles.

You guys are amazing. ily.

-Nini

taglist-

@turnthepageandbeburnt @taebangtanbabe @borahaexoxo @lelefoodlover @tan-veee

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28 notes · View notes

driftward · 10 months ago

Note

Ask meme for Quinnelle, please!

What does their bedroom look like?

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

What is their biggest regret?

What makes them feel guilty?

Superstitions or views on the occult?

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?

So, here's the deal.

Some stories end. Even in a perpetual MMO.

And I made contingency plans for the possibility that one day, Zoissette's story might end, for whatever reason. So while Quinnelle may not ever meaningfully exist, she's still there, in my head, causing trouble and making fun stories.

With that in mind, Quinnelle Vidalle, the fastest of the fast couriers in Eorzea, ready and standing by, one Fantasia away when Zoissette finally bows out of the spotlight. (Importantly, this lets me keep all the stuff on a new character, and Quinnelle is designed to be able to nick in as a replacement WoL easy as you please)

What does their bedroom look like?

Piles and piles in different places on the floor. Single small bed. A potted plant that died probably before the last calamity. Cobwebs everywhere, what do you have a problem with spiders she likes spiders spiders are friends. That one's named Jeorgeaux.

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

Sexual orientation is yeah, sure, if she's bored. Finds discussions on such faintly boring and nonsensical though. Swive who you wanna if you wanna she don't give a shit. Also gender is bullshit.

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

About the only thing they keep neat and clean is the uniforms in their closet, and they are -picky- about anything doing with mail, they take that shit stone cold seriously. Everything else is whatever. Knows she'll be perpetually late if she lets herself be so, so instead shows up early and just bitches.

What is their biggest regret?

Regrets are for people who aren't charging forward half enough. Any given day generates a few dozen small regrets that she usually forgets within the half hour. Can't have regret if you're always rushing to live in the now.

What makes them feel guilty?

Okay, fine, they'll feel guilty over not meeting obligations, like getting packages to the right person or mail to the right place on time or missing muster or that one time she plumb forgot she was supposed to meet a guy for a date but look it was a really good triple triad game okay she won a plushie she'd wanted for a long time out of it his name is G'george. The plushie, not the date. No, she doesn't know how Sun Seeker names work, the Moon Keepers are far more personable in her opinion.

Superstitions or views on the occult?

She believes in every single god and goddess and holds any of a number of tiny little rituals for each one every day. It doesn't matter that some of those belief systems contradict other ones; she's not telling the gods, and nobody else should be either, and what they don't know won't hurt them. Definitely believes in hedging her bets in this regard, so there's always a deity to call on in a moment of trouble.

Primals are just assholes trying to get in on the god action though so swive 'em. But not literally. Well maybe Ifrit. He's hot. That's a fire joke. Get it? Hahah but no seriously.

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?

Someone who would put up with her shit. I mean, swive, that's the only way it'd possibly happen, right?

But if we're handing out prize Chocobos and making wishes on stars, a big strong man with muscles under just the right amount of flab, with big beautiful lips and a strong wedge of a chin and a nose chiseled out of rock and oh shit she's just describing her boss. That's literally just her boss Raubahn. Swive don't tell him don't tell him don't tell him she meant to say uh you know someone hot like uhm Merlwyb wait crap that someone else's boss uhm you know maybe someone adorable but in a lady way like Momodi wait that's kind of her other boss crap QUESTIONS OVER GOT MAIL TO DELIVER.

#final fantasy xiv #quinelle vidalle #biot writes #ask meme #answer hours

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 2 years ago

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Gentile. | Chapter 13

You bond with Joanna. A letter arrives in the mail.

Chapter list

Joanna turns out to be delightful. You meet with her right after you’ve washed up and she wastes no time in showing you the ropes. The main area of recreation, you come to learn, are the gardens west of the storerooms. Several trees have been planted along the sides, creating enough shade to remain comfortable. It seems to be a small oasis of sorts, and you can already see yourself writing on your letters and poetry on one of the benches.

“You can sit here whenever you want,” Joanna explains. “You can also make use of the bathhouse, pool and the hammam. It’s all heated.”

You give a small nod and let your eyes go to the bathhouse that looks out over the other side of the garden. A few people are strutting around wearing absolutely nothing, a few of the women at least having the modesty to clothe themselves with sheer drapes. Servants walk about with hot stones and all kinds of soaps, listening to every beck and call of the patrons. Three female slaves slip into the water with a remarkably corpulent man who is wearing the most filthy grin on his face. You shudder at the sight and feel your gut twist unpleasantly.

“Not used to that, I see.” Joanna says, but there is no judgement nor humour in her voice, “I get it, you know. Things around here are sometimes… Well… Indecent.”

You hum in agreement. “Indeed, I am not too familiar with things like that happening in such close proximity to me. I’m aware that they do, but… Not in Capernaum, not as… Shameless as that.” Your cheeks flush, for your actions regarding Atticus hadn’t exactly been proper, either.

“Us women should stick up for ourselves more,” she states. The intensity of her gaze makes you gulp, fearing that she is seeing right through you, prompting you to adjust your Palla to cover the marks in your neck, but when you nod slowly at last, she smiles a little. “I wish that one day I’ll have more of a voice. Not that chaperoning visitors around the first days they’re here isn’t fun, but… I want more than that, you know. I might be saying way too much already.”

“No,” you immediately breathe, “Not at all, I agree with what you’re saying. If it were up to me, I’d be publishing my own books, but my husband…”

Your voice trails off and she looks at you, smiling slightly. “Your own books? An educated woman, then?”

Abashed, you shrug. “Well, I can read and write.”

“And express your thoughts into written text. There are plenty of people who cannot even verbally say what they want.”

The pair of you laugh. The ice has definitely been broken and you’re curious to see if you could become friends with her.

Joanna heads over to another door and guides you through it. “Here is the regular dining room,” she says, “Whenever we’ve got banquets, they’re behind the double doors on your left. We cannot head in there now, but trust me, it’s always a pleasant time.” She winks and smiles.

You head back up the stairs again to the wing where your quarters are located, and she leads you to a balcony that looks out over the garden. In the distance, you can see hills in the desert, the air above it searing hot sand trembling visibly.

“Thank you for showing me around,” you tell Joanna, “I’ll spend my time wisely here.”

“It’s nothing,” she reassures you, “Don’t be a stranger. I’ve been dying for a friend around here.”

You smile. “I won’t be. I’ve got a feeling that we’re going to get along just great.”

It causes her to laugh a little before she lets out a small gasp. “Oh, I almost forgot. Follow me.” You go back inside the building and Joanna brings you to her chambers, where she lives with her husband. The man in question is at work.

Several statuettes of Roman gods and goddesses stand as an altar near the window and a bouquet of wilted flowers falls apart on the large table located in the centre. Despite the circumstances, Joanna seems to have tried to give it a female touch, but the stifling environment isn’t playing its part. The statues make you feel uneasy, as if they’re taunting you, judging you for your lack of prayers with their hollow eyes.

“Just a little something to welcome you here.” Joanna pulls you from your thoughts. She turns to you with a small bag in her hands and holds it out in your direction, “They’re from the south, very squishy.”

You take it, loosen the small ribbon holding it closed curiously and reach inside to find your absolute favourite: figs. A grin spreads over your face and you softly gasp.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” You bring one of the fruits up to your nose to take in its rich, honeyed scent, “I love these so much!”

“We knew,” Joanna chuckles, “There was a small note added post scriptum to the letter we received that you were coming over to seek refuge here. We tried to get our hands on the dried, sugared ones, but this was the best we could find.”

You frown at the revelation. “That’s nice, very thoughtful.” you murmur, a little puzzled. Quintus does not possess such attentiveness when it comes to giving you something extra, so perhaps that it had been Atticus to perform such a nice gesture. Your gut swirls at the thought of him, knees feeling weak at the sheer notion. Even though you saw him last mere hours ago, you already miss him.

When you hold out the bag to offer Joanna a fig, she takes it gladly.

“I can understand why you like them,” she says, smiling after swallowing it. “Anyhow, I’ll leave you some space to rest in your room. Let’s talk more soon, okay? You should just get settled for a bit. Take all the time you need.”

You thank her softly and head back to your room, enjoying another fig or two. The man who had been in the bath with the three slaves passes you in the hallway, causing you to take a step back out of instinct. He doesn’t seem to notice you, much to your delight.

Your jaw tenses as you watch him stalk off, an awkward feeling settling within your gut. Despite Joanna being lovely, you aren’t certain what to make of this place yet. Perhaps that you’re simply just not used to a setting like this, so you decide to give it some more time.

Heading into your large and empty-feeling chamber, you sit down on your bed, sighing deeply.

A fortnight passes. The days are long and hot, but you find comfort in your books and with your new friend, whom you visit on a daily basis.

Joanna is, much like Atticus, thoroughly invested in your poetry, and often sneaks a glance over your shoulder to see what you’re working on. The question you have feared comes up one afternoon when sitting together in the shade of an olive tree, Joanna enjoying some grapes whilst you flip a page in your journal. It’s starting to get full already.

“What inspires you to write such interesting pieces?”

You look up. “My books,” you lie, smoothing a finger down the middle of the two pages in order to have them remain open, “The romantic and sometimes heartbreaking scenes are extremely inspirational.”

Joanna lets out an unconvinced hum. “I don’t believe you,” she says, taking a sip of wine from her goblet, “There is no way that you can write like that without actually experiencing such emotions, otherwise you cannot capture it as gorgeously as you can. Come on, tell me, no need to be shy.”

You open your mouth to tell her that it’s nothing special when someone interrupts your peaceful chat. “Something arrived for you in the mail, lady (Y/n),” a servant says. He bows his head down and offers you a rolled up and sealed bit of parchment. You recognise the seal at once and take it.

“Thank you,” you say, “You are dismissed.”

He rushes away and Joanna scoots closer to you. “Who is it from?”

“My husband,” you say, fingering the insignia for a second, feeling the wax under your thumb before breaking it. You unfurl it and roll it out. “Quintus.”

Your eyes flit over the page to see what it is about. Something annoyed stirs within you from the very start as you begin reading it.

Dear (Y/n), let me open this letter to you to tell you that I miss you. The bed is cold without you and in a time of conflict gods know I need some winding down. I’m looking forward to our reunion, even though it might be some time off.

Swallowing hard, you force down the bile threatening to claw at your throat. His sentiment is not reciprocated.

Let me fill you roughly in on what has been going on lately. Zealots, Jews and other vermin have dared to organise riots in Capernaum’s streets. They don’t seem to be accepting our authority, so we must continue with an iron fist. No need to worry about my wellbeing, I am safe as can be. I cannot say when you will be picked up, but it will be a while. You have my greetings and I am keeping you in my thoughts.

Hail Caesar,

Quintus.

It takes a lot to not crumple it up into a ball and toss into a fireplace somewhere, but you stand your ground, sighing deeply. Even in his attempts to sound somewhat like he misses you, the words on the parchment remain emotionless.

“And?” Joanna quizzes, curious, “Any news from Capernaum?”

“It seems like I’ll be staying here for a while.” you deadpan - the only redeeming piece of information in Quintus’ letter.

“That’s it?”

“And that Quintus misses me.”

A small smile tugs at her lip. “Well, that’s nice. My husband wouldn’t even bother writing to me, I think.”

You huff and roll the parchment back up, putting it on the bench next to you.

Joanna frowns. “You don’t seem excited to hear from him.”

Pushing your tongue into the inside of your cheek, you force down your scowl. “I am,” you lie, standing up and taking a deep breath, “Matter of fact, I’m going to write back to him right now.”

You leg away, but Joanna calls after you. “Oh, (Y/n)?”

You halt in your step and pivot to look at her. “Yes?”

She smiles. “Would you like to join me for some wine tonight? My husband will be on guard duty so I’ll be alone all evening. We could chat for a bit about our lives, if you’d like… Or just about other things, anything.”

Thinking it over for a second, you begin to nod. “Yes, yes of course! Thank you for the invitation.”

She smiles. “After dinner,” she suggests.

“That sounds good,” you reply. “I’ll see you then, Joanna.”

She gives you a sweet smile and you head back to your chamber, your gut twisting in confusion at the letter Quintus had sent - did he want you to write back to him? He had only stated what had been going on, but he had asked no questions about how you had been. And then, the letter was from him , not from Atticus, whom you had rather received correspondence from.

The room you’ve called your own for a few weeks now lacks the intimacy and heart that the one in Capernaum has. There is too much empty space for you to fill with endless hours of apprehensive tossing and turning. And every so often, at night, sounds from the dungeons far below manage to creep up, tormenting you with their wails of sorrow. You feel pity for the prisoners below, knowing that their fate cannot be anything good.

With slightly trembling fingers, you pen down the most generic, uninspired letter you’ve ever written. Dear Praetor Quintus - there is distance in your words - It is good to hear from you and to know that you are safe. Here in Machaerus things are fine. I have a friend named Joanna and she spends time with me. Don’t rush things, I don’t mind staying here a while longer.

You consider writing down the lie that you miss him too, but decide against it. Hail Caesar, (Y/n), you end with instead, rolling up the parchment and holding a flame against the candle on your desk, rummaging around the drawers to find some wax. You expertly seal the letter with a few drops of crimson liquid that quickly dries against the off-white surface.

Hoping to get it sent out today, you stand and rush outside to find the courtyard, where a small trading post is located. You head over, the man behind the iron bars looking at you expectantly. Even in a fortified palace, he needs protection. You wonder what dangers he might be facing in this environment.

“I’m here to send a letter,” you say.

“Of course, my lady,” the courier says, “Where to?”

“Praetor Quintus of Capernaum.” The man’s eyes shoot up in slight shock, worry visible on his features. “I’m his wife.” you add, puzzled.

He quickly blinks and clears his throat. “Ah, of-of course, ma’am, I apologise for the delay. Forgive me.”

Your brow furrows and you smile. “There is… Nothing to worry about.”

He sighs in relief. “Good,” he mutters, “Heard that he made the life of our courier quite miserable when he tried to get a letter sent your way from Caper—” His words die on his tongue and he stares at you slack-jawed. “I-I am so sorry, my lady, I didn’t mean to speak ill of your husband, I–”

“No harm done.” you say with a small smile. “I know how he is, and that does sound like him.”

A nervous laugh leaves the man’s lips and he quickly arranges it.

“And that takes care of— Wait a minute, something else for you arrived about thirty minutes ago. Here you go, ma’am,”

He hands you another letter, different in shape this time.

The seal doesn’t belong to your husband. No, it’s the same pattern you’ve seen on the hand that has been so wonderfully caressing you a few weeks ago right before you were dropped off here. Your cheeks flame and you quickly take it.

“Thank you,” you say, “Good work, keep it up.”

You rush away before he can respond. As fast as your legs can carry you, you head back to your room and slam the door behind you. With a hand over your mouth, you try to catch your breath and keep down the excited squeal that threatens to escape.

He has written to you – Atticus has actually written to you.

You make your way over to your bed and waste no time in tearing open the letter, laying down to begin reading it. Other than Quintus’ words, his seemed to jump off the paper straight into your heart, your stomach swirling with all kinds of emotions for it was so good to hear from him at last.

My dearest, I cannot start explaining how often you have been on my mind the past weeks and how much I long for you to be in my arms again.

How is Machaerus? Have you found new friends? I bet the food is fantastic, my love. Enjoy it, alright, you deserve your rest there.You’ve been through a lot and should look after yourself. I wish I could have been the one to spoil you instead, but the court will have to do that job of mine for now.

The fact that I had to leave you where you are is still bothering me greatly, so I hope you can forgive me for that. It’s not much better here and I will spare you the details, for it will only make you uneasy and all that matters is that I will be fine. This upheaval is just routine at this point, so don’t you worry about me.

I have been dying to hear from you. Send your letter to Joppa, for that is where I’ll be able to pick it up soon. My love, I will not keep you waiting longer than I need to. I’m looking forward to hearing from you.

Yours faithfully.

He had not signed it with his name due to safety reasons lest anyone open it, but you whisper his name as if it had been on the paper regardless. You let out a small noise of joy and clutch it to your chest, feeling like a lovestruck teenager. Immediately, you float over to your desk to write something back.

The words flow from your pen freely. Needless to say, his letter takes shape more naturally and lengthier than the one you had sent to Quintus.

You tell him that you miss him, that you long for him and that he has plagued you in your dreams for the last two weeks with his utterly maddening presence in the most positive sense of the word. You introduce Joanna as your daresay friend, who takes great pleasure in literature as you do. The food is delightful but what is a hearty dinner when he is not there to share it with you? You mention that you know Atticus likes his nibbles, so you promise to sneak something for the road into your luggage around the time he’ll come to pick you up. You enclose a snippet of your most recent poem that you rip out of your journal. Lastly, you wish him the best of luck.

Out of habit, you nearly write a hail to Caesar at the end but manage to stop yourself right before the pen hits the paper. You put away the quill in the inkwell, feeling confident enough to spritz a small amount of perfume onto the parchment once everything is dry. Not much unlike what you had done with your letter to Quintus, you secure this one as well but appear more lively as you deliver it to the man behind the counter, who seems surprised to notice your positive shift in mood.

“The same address, I assume?”

Your throat runs dry - you haven’t considered that you look way too content to play it off as a regular letter to a friend - and you come up with a coverup on the spot.

“It’s to my friend in Joppa,” you explain, “I have just caught wind that she is expecting a baby and I just had to congratulate her!”

The man gives a small smile, “Of course, my lady. I didn’t mean to pry, but I am happy for her on your behalf.”

“Thank you.” you beam, clasping your hands in front of you. “Just put the initials A.A.P. on there, she’ll know it is for her!”

“Everything is in order. It will be taken care of.”

You once again express your gratitude and head back to your bedroom to spend some time on your own before your little get-together with Joanna will ensue right after dinner. With the letter from Atticus resting on your chest, you spiral into a delightful little daydream. _

At night, Joanna’s room is more cosy, for the statues are not as visible. Candles are lit on gilded candelabras and the wilted flowers have made place for fresh ones. The hearth is lit and there are two chaise longues positioned facing each other and the fire in just the right position to be able to have a proper chat whilst still lying comfortably.

During dinner, you’ve enjoyed a cup of alcohol or two, so your head is already a little fuzzy when you enter her room and take a seat where she directs you to. Joanna grabs two goblets and checks for dust before sitting down next to you, uncorking a bottle of wine of a brand you certainly don’t have in Galilee.

“It’s good to have a friend here,” Joanna muses, pouring two royal cups of the crimson liquid. “Actually, it has been a long time since I got along with one of our visitors in the way you and I seem to understand each other. I like you, (Y/n), I truly do.”

You smile a little and take the outreached goblet. “If I may be so bold,” you breathe, “You are like a breath of fresh air in this searing hot desert.”

She flushes and looks at her lap, “Oh, you give me too much credit. We just get along well, and to that, we should drink.”

The pair of you sit in pleasant silence for a few moments as you take in the rich flavour of the wine. It immediately kicks in, a heavy, earthy fluid that makes your shoulders weigh down at its strength.

“That’s a good one, isn’t it?” Joanna smirks as she notices your suddenly pink cheeks. “It’s expensive, but so worth it.”

“Worth it for what?” you wonder whilst smiling, lying down on the small sofa to throw up your feet, “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

She laughs and mirrors your position on her own chaise longue. “Well, it does make people loosen up a bit.”

“Trying to get to know my deepest secrets?”

“Hm, you’ve got many?”

You hide behind your goblet and take another strong swig. When you don’t reply to her question, Joanna observes you with a thoughtful look on her face.

“What is life like in Galilee?”

You take a second to respond. “Hm, the fruit is lovely. And the Sea of Galilee, those fish are magnificent. The people try to make ends meet, but Roman influence has been hard on them.” Your brow furrows with sudden concern that you might have said too much, but Joanna smiles reassuringly.

“Right, I suppose that does make sense. I have been here for a while, so I am unsure as to what impact our work has been having on society lately. How about your husband?”

The question takes you by surprise and you blink in slight puzzlement with widened eyes. “Beg your pardon?”

“Your husband. He is a magistrate with quite the reputation for being ruthless. What is he like?”

You give a wry smile and take another sip of alcohol, your head really starting to buzz, now. “He lives up to it,” you tell her matter-of-factly, “Hence why I’m here, to protect me from whatever purge he’s up to.”

Joanna hums and traces the edge of the goblet with her finger. “I see. How many children do you have?”

You are somewhat ashamed to say the answer. “None.” you whisper, sighing, “I mean… We’re trying, but…” Your hand goes to your stomach and you shrug. “Nothing.”

The woman bites her bottom lip. “Does it bother you?”

“What? That I have no children?”

“That I’m asking you such questions.”

You swallow thickly. “Not really. Planning on subjecting you to the same treatment.”

A grin spreads on her face. “Alright, that would only be fair. What would you like to know?”

“What is it like to live here? Does it ever get boring?”

She clears her throat and takes a sip of wine before shaking her head. “No, it doesn’t get boring. Every day is different. I’ve got quite an important position when it comes to meeting with female patrons. My husband works as an advisor and I do some other smaller jobs on the side.”

“Do you like your life here?”

Joanna taps her chin. “I think I do. I wouldn’t necessarily have chosen it for myself, but… Now that I’m here, I don’t know any better.”

“What if you weren’t married?” you are bold enough to ask. You’re curious to hear what her decision would be if things were any different.

It takes a moment for her to form a proper reply. “I think I wouldn’t be working here. Perhaps that I’d be a seamstress. I love embroidering pretty things on people’s clothes from time to time.” She smiles, crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. “But in reality, I have quite a comfortable life here. I’m lucky to have married a man who can provide for me financially.”

You throw back the final bit of wine in your goblet and gulp. “Does he also provide for you in other areas?”

She blinks in confusion. “Like?”

“Romance.” you tell her, “Emotionally, does he give you what you need?”

Something flashes behind her eyes. “I… I… I’m not sure if that is a good subject to talk about. I don’t want to sour the mood by complaining about a man who has done so much for me.” Her words are an attempt to avert the question and her entire body language tells you that you’ve hit a nerve somewhere.

“I’m sorry,” you promptly apologise, at which her gaze softens, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” You want to tell her that you can see a sliver of yourself in her but swallow the words.

She smiles and shakes her head. “Not to worry, (Y/n), no harm done. Perhaps it’s something we could talk about later, when we’re more familiar with one another. For now, let’s have another wine and head to our beds, shall we?”

Despite the heaviness of the alcohol, you agree to sharing another goblet of wine.

Next chapter Chapter list

#gentile #the chosen x reader #the chosen #reader insert #x reader #atticus x you #atticus x reader #atticus aemilius pulcher #the chosen atticus #quintus #quintus x you #quintus x reader

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paigelts05 · 2 years ago

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FNAF, Renegade AU - Toxic Botany

https://www.deviantart.com/paigelts05/art/FNAF-Renegade-AU-Toxic-Botany-882527940

Published: Jun 13, 2021

Renegade File Server Location: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23858029

I actually wrote the story for this first because I just had an idea and wanted to get it down before I forgot. Also, this takes place after the Adelaide incident, so Anna and the rest of CK maintenance were not expecting any animatronics to be sent for modification, as they were just supposed to be finishing up certain jobs that they were told had to be completed, even though work was supposed to have stopped. The contractors open the large crate, and find what looks less like the 'Springtrap' they were sent images of and more like a normal human corpse, albeit with a few flowers growing out of it. Needless to say, this causes some panic, but thing calm down a bit when the corpse wakes up and instantly starts slaging off the contractee who kidnapped him and shipped him off to these poor contractors. =°•.🌹 Story 🌹.•°= °*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•🌹•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*° He was delivered to the contractors in a wooden box. This wooden box felt more like a crude coffin, but instead of flower petals or feathers or felt, the space around his corpse was filled with packing peanuts. When he arrived and his box was opened, they thought that thier contractee had made a mistake. This wasn't a robot. This wasn't the replica mechanical rabbit they were expecting. This was a man. Did they really just get mailed a corpse? Fear and confusion spread through the contractors as they tried to figure out what this was. A man whose only odd traits were robotic rabbit ears stuck in his skull, seemingly robotic limbs, and a faint purple hue on his otherwise porcelain hued skin was lying in a shipping crate coffin, arms crossed over his chest like it was his funeral. He looked dead, peaceful, then suddenly awake. His eyes shot open and he sat up, packing peanuts clinging to his long, violet hair. "Where am I?" His question seemed more like a statement, if not an order, yet his tone seemed almost kind and calm. Anna was the only one with the courage to answer. "CK animatronic maintenance. We're contractors. You were sent here by our contractee." As the man stepped out of his shipping crate coffin, Anna flinched. "Do not be afraid, if I'm going to be mad at anyone, it'll be your contractee." He stated, seeing Anna's fear and not wanting to scare her any further, "As you may tell, I wasn't exactly sent here off my own accord. I assume you expected a replica of a 'springtrap' suit, am I correct?" Anna nodded. The man continued to speak after seeing this sign of confirmation. "Well, I fall under that category. I may look human, but that is due to the suit melding itself to my body. I can also assure you all the rumours around the Springtrap suits are true. Each location had a killer, and each died in a spring Bonnie suit, only to be forced back to life as some kind of sentient zombie. I shall declare now, I am no exception to this. My name is Vincent Taylor, yet as of late people have referred to me as Taylortrap." The contractors all breathed an unexpected sigh of relief. Even as he pulled his katana out of his crate of a coffin, the fear and tension seemed to disperse more and more by the second. "So, um, how on earth are we supposed to manage this situation?" Anna asked, "the contractee is making us modify animatronics - which is not our job - and they want us to make you look like this." She then showed him a print out of some concept art their contractee sent them. "Well.... I don't want to look like... That." He looked disgusted. He did not want to be covered or look like he was covered in toxic sludge. What would that do to his plants? Luckily, Anna felt the same way, despite clearly beginning to panic. Vincent recognised this panic anywhere. The fear of not fulfilling a contract. "No-one would, but we have to do something." Her words were sharp, but not aimed at him. "I think I know something we could do instead." He moved his jacket and lifted his shirt to reveal vines growing in and around the metal of the carapace that covered his corpse. "I already have a few plants growing, and they seem to be doing fine. We could add some bioluminescent ones of the hues needed." "Wouldn't that eat away at you?" "Oddly enough, no." He covered the plants back up, and he looked almost human, "I just need to keep them watered. I don't understand it either, but I can guarantee that using my, lets just call them 'abilities', to keep flowers on myself is my ultimate 'up yours' to my former boss, who just also happens to be your contractee." "So, do you know where we could get some bioluminescent plants?" Anna replied, already on board with this idea. "My daughter should have some. Do you have a phone here?" °*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•🌹•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°

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gooboogy · 1 year ago

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You almost forgot to do it again but a pesky alarm before bed reminds you of it. You debate whether or not you could leave it for tomorrow, but the last time you put it off for a day it ended up being 3 days with 1,000 injured, millions dead, and so on etc. etc. So you drag yourself to the bathroom and get it done with it. At least you've picked up your prescription recently so you don't have to reuse the older vials again.

Two needles, an alcohol swab, a debatably necessary bandaid, and a fresh vial all lay out on the bathroom counter. It's all muscle memory at this point, opening the packets, pulling the cap off the vial, and switching the needles so you can poke the membrane of the little jarthing and pull its contents into the syringe.

You grab the fat of your thigh and inject the needle into your skin, just a pinprick, an easy injection today. When you pull it out you only see the remnants of a few drops of clear, no blood, even better. So instead of a bandaid you take the gauze and rub at the small little wound to clean it up.

And that's when it happens.

Your belly groans and aches, intestines speaking the language of indigestion. And then you cough. You cough and you cough because there's a hairball(?) In your throat but all that comes out is shimmering blue smoke. It glistens with your saliva (you didn't even know smoke could glisten) as it falls heavy to the floor and builds in shape like a child's rudimentary snowman. A smokeman. Because it is a man that appears, or a masculine looking thing, from the smoke in your throat.

"Ah shit we did it again," it says and pats you heartily on the back, getting the last of your coughs out. "You're supposed to swab the vial before you poke it dummy."

"It was a new one," you wheeze, "it had the cap."

"It's a good habit to get into. So that you don't end up with a genie in your body. Obviously."

You look at it, bewildered, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that.

"But no matter,

It is I the Great and Powerful--"

You cough again.

"Uh, shit okay here," it rifles through your cabinets and finds the toothbrush holder, tosses the toothbrushes to the side and fills it with water into one of the little holes. Then offers it to you.

You're not taking that.

"Just take it so you can stop coughing and I can give you my very Big and Cool speech!"

You cough louder and more vigorously at it.

"C'mon it's a really good speech I've been using for a few hundred years, everyone loves it."

Reluctantly you take the toothbrush cup and gingerly sip from it. The coughing stops. Miraculously actually because your throat even feels better than before. You look at it, puzzled.

And it meets you with a shit eating grin.

"It is I!"

It continues.

"The great genie of... what did you just inject yourself with?"

"... Testosterone?"

"Testosterone!" ✨

You roll your eyes, "how can you be a genie of testosterone if you didn't even know what it was?"

"The union contracts me to be injectable but not what kind of injection, I'm a hoot in operating rooms I'll have you know. But I always have to wait for the person to wake up which is a major drag, not like this, your eyes are open and everything. Are we in a bathroom? Is this what bathrooms are like now? Why do you have a dancing Jesus bobblehead?"

It takes a moment to recover from the genie saying 'hoot' and it takes your silence as approval to continue.

"Anyway,

I am the great and Powerful genie of testosterone and I--"

"Oh it's because I got this prayer book in the mail for the old tenant that said 'prayers for difficult times' so I thought hey that'd be kinda funny to put by the toilet which led to the little Jesus getting added and the rosary that the little plant over there is wearing. She's very studious in her spirituality."

"..."

"So are you like, in my body now?"

"If you just let me finish my speech it will answer all the questions you have."

"But-"

"Do you want wishes or not."

"If I asked you if you wanted to play monster trucks with me would that count as a wish?"

"... No."

"Hell yeah."

While most genies are found in rings, bottles, lamps, and the like, others prefer different items as long as they find them comfortable. Today, you’ve found a genie living within a rather…unexpected receptacle.

#idk feeling silly #warming up the writing muscles #needles #in all honesty you could do a lot with this #much idea to be had

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handelplayssims · 1 month ago

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Reaper's Rewards - Week 2

Hi ho and hello again! It’s time for Week 2 of the Reaper’s Reward event. Time to see what new tricks Grim has in store!

Also I completely forgot to post this until I saw week 3 was out. Whoops!

Going to load into the Goth family. I want to ensure the Lilies are blooming.

...and I might be in trouble. Big massive trouble. I ended the day with a seasonal event active. The events for this week don’t seem to be active at the moment, prehaps overwritten by TV Season Premire. ...NOT GOOD... ohp, nevermind. Took a moment for it to start up.

New goals! First one we have is befriending death of which, Alexander has already done! Thank you good reputation and other social benefits. The other is to order a seed packet and catch 3 fish. Unfortunately for Alexander, he has a few moments until school. But, this means that I can once again test and see if going to school takes away the event.

...doesn’t seem like it! Woohoo! So it’s time for the whole new kid in school rigamamole. Huh. Evidently Olivia and Alex are back to being romantic. Time to change that again. Or maybe I forgot, who knows.

Oh this is going to be a rough day for Alex. Ended school sleepy and has chess team. And he’s gotta do the TV Season Premiere thing, as he’s the only one in his family who cares about it.

Well, let’s check in on everyone else while Alex is at chess team. Bella wants to be social with the butler...so let’s go say hello to someone else on her contacts before we talk to them! Bjorn Bgersen, let’s say hi! Her aspiration is throwing parties and hmm. Could think about another at some point. But let’s get her promoted in her career and see how things go, that usually changes dates-of-work. Oh hey, the butler, Kendall Goodman, is loyal! What a nice trait to have. And befitting his name!

Geoffrey wants to invite someone over but considering that’s close to his social aspiration, might as well go ahead and talk to people on the street to introduce himself.

Alexander needs a nap. But first, let’s check the mail! The Ambrosia Society newsletter tells us to get a cutting of Lily and Snapdragon ready and to work on sastisfaction points. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaay ahead of ya.

New goals added! Fulfill an Aspiration Goal and cook a recipe while level 4 or higher. Nice but first, nap time. Also Venus needs her sleep. Alexander is finally awake and can watch the Odder Things premiere. After that...hmm. Most of the folk around town have well, vanished, seeing as it's evening time, so I can’t have Geoffrey introduce himself to other folk easily ...might have been a good thing he wasn’t home because Guidry has decided to be flirty with Bella. Eh, Bella is very close to finishing off the parenting skill. Let’s cap that and then Geoffrey can go and be social at the Lounge.

Oh, Geoffrey Landgraab doesn’t have a job. I believe I had him retire but he seems to just not get retirement pay? -shrug- It’s been an age since I played in this file, I wouldn’t be surprised if things got lost in the mix. So we got another introduction to a local nerd, Eddie Landry, from the Family Fortune scenario. He’s a local in Willow Creek so might as well say hi. And then Geoffrey gets sleepy at 3:30 so lets head home. And put everyone to bed while at it. I don’t trust the Care for Yourself interaction and we got school + work.

Neighborhood Watch!

Cayla Ferris in the Ferris household retired from her job as a Freelance Programmer in the Freelance Programmer career.

Holy snap! It’s All Haunts Day! GLORIOUS! ...oh wait it’s title is supposed to be Spooky Day. Too late! Anyway, since Alex is doing his morning gardening, it’s time to do some planting of apples and cherry trees.

Aha! Bella got promoted to be a Leader of the Cause, and is now rank 9. Days at work are still the same it seems. Anyway, going into work with her this time.

Let’s see. Geoffrey’s whim is to make another sim happy. Best way to do that is to befriend someone. Mm. Let’s go to the local park. There we go. Cheered up and befriended Bernice Robles!

Hmm. Had the idea to practice speech for Research and Debate since he was a politican and there is a podium there. But evidently, speech gains aren’t working? Let’s research research methodlogies at the library and see if that starts the skill leveling. ...that at least still works. Anyway, let’s head home. It’s ALL HAUNTS DAY BABY!

...man, the costume trunk from Lovestruck would be so nice here. I don’t want to have to go to CAS to get some fun costumes going!

We have Geoffrey as Father Winter!

Alexander as a zombie. RIP to all you guys hoping it'd be in Life & Death.

You would think they would have a fairy costume for children but nope. Only Princesses!

And I couldn't find the maid costume in CAS so we just used the costume interaction to get it for Bella.

Huzzah! Grim Reaper friendliness marked off when Alex said hello again! Ghost spotted on the street! Might as well have Alex say hi and get the Spooky tradition knocked off. Ghost enthusiast Alexander Goth. Mm. Everyone’s exhausted so let’s get them to bed. And a bump in the night started everyone but only Geoffrey was scared. I had Bella calm him down ...and provide affection and -cough cough- Nothing like a good scare to get you in the mood! ...though a spectre that spawned in the bedroom provided trouble for pathing.

And a good All Haunt’s Wake for all! Everyone did mischief when I wasn’t looking and ba-dabing ba-da boom. Excellent holiday! Might do a Spooky Party today though.

Neighborhood Watch!

San Myshuno: The Zeigler household recently moved in.

Windenburg: The Galindo household has moved in.

Another morn! Let’s see… we need to add the Scare Seeker challenge to this lot, easily done! (To be removed when done with this challenge) Gardening time for Alexander and Venus...needs to re-befriend children since my progress on that the first day went ka-put. To the park! Because Alex needs to fish!

Family outing at the park!

We had Tommi last time, this time we’re going for the other Wedding Stories kid, Jace Laurent! Cheerful kid, nice! Exactly like Venus. Wait, no. She’s a good one. But you know, similar wavelenghts.

Meanwhile, Geoffrey immediately befriended Luca Harjo just from a cheerful introduction and I think this aspiration is going to be a walk in the park for him once I get introductions out of the way.

Caught three fish. Now to aim for five things caught in this fishing run. And done. Now Alex shall research the plants that are in the planter here, curtsey of the Garden Gnomes club, who just popped up.

Let’s see, any other kids for Venus...looks like it’s Javed Bheeda. Well she knows his sister already, might as well say hi and befriend. Oh wait, there’s a girl on the monkey bars to say hello to. Might as well say hello and befriend!

New aspiration for Venus time! I’m gonna go fooooor, the Social + Creativity one, because it’s based off of parties and that’s just like her mom!

Right, said hi to Moria so it’s time to finally go home. And have...a Spooky party!

...and the quest event cleared off. Shit. RELOAD!

At least it’s only this specific day but man, now I gotta do the gardening and the befriending all over again!

Right, this time thanks to not having relevant wants, I’m not taking Bella Goth with me to the park! Yep! She was there as well! Didn't do much with her outside of vibe.

YEESH! Cheerful introduction on Mei Prescott got her all the way filled with the green friendship for Geoffrey. ...it isn’t even compatibility, it’s just reputation!

And for kids, we now have Megan Knoles. Oh hey, it’s that girl of my personal sims I’m really attached to! And also Joy Grey, daughter of a vampire huntress and Father Winter. ...the Vampire Huntress is more domestic than you think.

Alright. Do I risk a save? I guess I shall. Save and then we head home not using the going home button. I like that button but I guess that was the sticking point this time.

SUCCESS! Let’s fertilize some plants! And plant goal for the week done! Woo.

Let’s have a spooky party! Geoffrey will be on pumpkin carving duty while everyone else gets to go and socialize. Alex actually talked a bit to his girlfriend, man is poor Maria Caliente falling by the wayside here. Oh hey, our hired chef is actually putting the excess food they are making in the fridge. Thanks Minerva. Why aren’t others doing that!?

Hmm. Geoffrey was scared awake again. I could be mean and have Bella and Geoffrey argue about leaving this home...hmm. ...nah. Overwhelming positive sentiments say otherwise.

Also, oh man. The beguile reward trait bumps people into a plus 50 flirty moodlet. Wow oh wow. ...you can take a wild guess where I went with that.

Also Geoffrey has had a fear of death for awhile and I didn’t realize talking to ghosts counted for clearing that off. Though yeah, I suppose that counts. Oh Guidry!

I did not realize it was 5AM. TIME FOR-

Neighborhood Watch!

Britechester: The McNeill household recently moved in.

Henford-on-Bagley: The Shelly household recently moved out.

Cason Allen in the Allen household has died. Cason might have loved too much for his age.

I recognize that name! RIP! (Also I did think of how if I wanted to, I could have had Geoffrey die of old age from...reckless exertion with that flirty moodlet.)

Love that in consideration of the weekly event, I’m actually having Alexander cook his meals despite having a butler. Ooooh! Our lilies have fully grown! Those actually sell for quite a bit! Let’s see...let’s do the usual gardening once Alex is done making some omelettes for the family. See where that takes us in getting cuttings. Oooh, on the cusp of the next level! Huzzah! Level 5 gardening achieved with research!

Also important familial dynamics established! Bella is now Venus’s favorite parent. She gets to be happy about that and Geoffrey gets to be sad about not being the favorite parent. Aww. Also, Venus gained an adoring sentiment towards Bella which is sweet.

And with a cutting nab, we are done with this week! Let’s go and finish out this day.

...okay first thing’s first, evidently the party didn’t count for the Party Animal aspiration, which RUDE! We’re going to cheat to fulfil that one. That finishes the party aspiration for Bella! Time for a new one. Do we lean familial or do we lean romantic? Hmmmmmmmm. I think we’ll go romantic with Soulmate aspiration. I still want to keep in mind that Bella should probably throw a party once a week or so. Charity Event or dinner or whatever!

Right, next, I want to actually progress in Alexander’s aspiration of college! Even if it’s mostly an excuse to remember to level the Research and Debate skill for college prep. It’s good college prep! Want that homework speed reduction. To the library!

So we’re gonna research research, cooking, and gardening. I know what we need to level for this event! And then do our homework. He’s dilligent like that.

Woohoo! Gotten that specific skill up to three. Since the next goal is university, it’s time to switch off to another aspiration! Hmm. Between fishing, cooking, and gardening for ambrosia...the most handiest reward trait is cooking but alas, that requires going into a career he can’t get into until he’s an adult. And I have plans for when he becomes an adult anyway. Gardening is kinda more empathized with the quest and he strikes me more as a gardening enthusiast than a fisherman ...this event is certainly taking nerd Alexander into a different direction than just out and out nerd who does chess.

...man, we got to level 4 of research skill and I was hoping for a fishing research topic but nope! Ah well. And we got up to research level 5. Man! I guess that’s what I get for researching three topics back to back to back. But also, Alexander has all the base childhood aspirations completed, which really helps with skilling. Or so it seems with his rapid ascents with everything!

Yeesh! We stayed all the way out until 8PM and I’m still not done with all I want to do here. Gotta finish homework! Gotta read a book! As per two whims! Oooh, even randomly picked up the archaeology book. Nice nice! Good choice Alex. We’re at skill level 2 for achaeology thanks to reading. It’s nearly Alexander’s curfew. I kinda forgot I had one of those. Let’s go home!

Ah! I’ve been out so long the parents are sleepy again! And Venus but she’d have to go to bed anyway thanks to school in the morning. To bed!

Though Bella takes until 4AM to go to bed because I, and she, are enjoying the tunes. As ya do. Good thing she’s working from home today. And by working from home, I mean getting dontations. I know how it goes.

Neighborhood Watch!

Oasis Springs: The Faamoana household recently moved out.

Paris Webb in the Webb household has died. Paris was so angry she burst into flames and died.

Oasis Springs: The Copur household recently moved out.

Welp, that’s all for this week. Tune in next week for more Reaper’s Rewards that will be slightly stymied by glitches!

#sims 4 #reaper's rewards #alexander goth #bella goth #venus goth #geoffrey landgraab #geoffrey goth

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sealrock · 9 months ago

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*wakes up in a cold sweat* I forgot I'm a writer

It's a bright and sunny day in Ul'dah, not a cloud in sight. A bit chilly given the time of the year, but the climes of Ul'dah are a far cry from the north, before the Calamity that is. It's Valentione's Day, and the streets are bustling with lovey-dovey overly touchy couples who don't give a fig about who's watching them trying to one-up each other on who's the most affectionate partner. Achille can almost understand Evander's distaste in the holiday, it's obnoxious. He would say Valentione's Day is nothing more than a capitalist's wet dream and a poor man's waking nightmare, and that you can show your partner love all year round. Paris was no different, as they would say that the streets filled with paper mache hearts and automated ornaments looked as if 'a bunch of moogles shat everywhere'. Paris has been to the realm of the moogles, so Achille trusts their rather nasty interpretation of the whole shindig. But this is different. This isn't about capitalism, gaudy decorations, or shallow displays of affection. Today is Patroclus' nameday, and Achille would be damned if he let this day pass without seeing him.

There he was, sitting on the edge of the impressive fountain of his grandfather's estate, unaware of Achille's presence. Patroclus' back faced Achille as he scattered around breadcrumbs for the multicolored doves to nibble at; in Achille's hands was a simple box clutched between sweaty fingers. Damn it all, if only Achille hadn't wasted his gil on rigged games down at the Coliseum. It slipped his mind that Patroclus' nameday fell on Valentione's Day, and Paris tried to be a helpful friend by 'hinting' at it the month before (more like embarrassing him in front of Patroclus himself).

So Achille had to scramble. It would take too long for Chiron to send him extra money by mail, absentminded and infuriating moogles notwithstanding, Evander was down for the count for the foreseeable future with his sickness, and Paris got flung to the far end of the realm because of important scion business or what have you. Thank Achille's lucky stars that the trio's gentle aunt was kind enough to give him a small pouch for a gift. But that led to another problem: Achille had no clue what Patroclus likes.

The gifts for Valentione's Day seemed too plain to Achille's untrained eye—lots of red and pink stuffed animals and bouquets, not Patroclus' thing. For as long as Achille had known him, Patroclus found the downright ghoulish cute—decorative skulls, pet insects as large as your head, books on the occult, and man-eating plants (with teeth and tongues!), to name a few. Achille shuddered in place at the thought of giving Patroclus a wild Mandragora… those things could scream your ears off. And they can kill you, too. Achille almost forgot about that.

Achille knew Ul'dah had its fair share of greed, and his knowledge of numbers could be better, but the prices for a day such as Valentione's were more than he could comprehend. Merchants were charging both arms and legs for their fancy imported goods, smiling in your face only to rob you blind as soon as you blink. And their wares were targeted at dumbfounded men hoping to woo the missus with last-minute gifts long enough to put off their night in the chocobo pen.

It was a miracle that Achille found someone selling chocolates within reach of his coin purse, but just about. He bought a simple box of assorted chocolates made here by a small chocolatier with an even smaller business. They seem no different from the Ishgardian or Lominsan chocolates, but Patroclus would know they're not top-of-the-line.

Achille feels like an idiot. Chocolates, not even the imported kind or fancy fruit dipped and garnished, are something a poor man would give. Patroclus isn't so vain as to flaunt his inherited wealth, but Achille wanted to gift something that would reflect Patroclus' upbringing—a gift he's used to receiving. The cogs in Achille's head started to spin:

What if Patroclus didn't like it, or if he laughed in Achille's face at this puny offering?

What if he's allergic to chocolate?

That's a thing, right? What if he accidentally makes Patroclus sick?

Evander doesn't care for it; he would spout some shite about his 'dietary needs' and how chocolate is a stimulant that makes him ill or whatever. Achille knew better, Evander just hates sweets. Maybe Achille was making a huge mistake. He should return these while there's still daylight-

"Achille? What a pleasant surprise!"

Rhalgr strike me down.

Achille was pulled from his racing thoughts by Patroclus' delighted voice, looking up just in time to get enveloped in a warm hug despite the crisp temperature, the blended scent of frankincense and myrrh flooding his nose. Oh, gods, how Achille wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole, he wasn't ready. If he didn't have such a death grip on the box of chocolates, it would've crashed on the gravel. Patroclus pulled back to reveal a beaming smile, but his eyes were tinged red… and a bit puffy.

He had been crying. Who made him cry?

"What brings you here? It's a tad airish to be enjoying a stroll—"

"H-Happy nameday. And Valentione's Day, I suppose."

Unceremoniously, Achille all but shoved the box into Patroclus' chest, his gaze suddenly transfixed on the forever green foliage of the hedge maze. He didn't realize he had been shaking, his collar moist with the sweat running down his nape. Achille was probably burning red again, his pointed ears twitching incessantly under his hair. He felt Patroclus quietly grab the chocolate box, only to hear a quick intake of breath. Achille dared himself to look head-on; Achille couldn't see his expression under the brim of his hat. But when he lifted his head, there was a watery smile spread on Patroclus' face, and his eyes crinkled at the simple gesture of gift-giving. Achille felt his mouth and throat go dry.

"Achille, you shouldn't have! I don't know what to say…"

Does he like it?

Achille couldn't find the words to ask as Patroclus quickly kissed his cheek before moving to a nearby bench to sit. Patroclus' soft lips met the wind-chafed skin of his face for just a moment. Achille felt as stiff as the artistically nude stone statue adorning the fountain. No, this doesn't prove anything. Patroclus always gave kisses to his other friends as a greeting, and Achille was no different. No matter how much he wanted to be something more to Patroclus.

His knees almost gave out from under him if Achille hadn't moved to sit next to Patroclus as he returned to his senses. His hands gripped the weathered stone of the bench as he tried to find his voice. Thankfully, Patroclus was too preoccupied with his chocolates to notice Achille having a nervous breakdown. The cooing doves moved from their earlier spot to crowd the boys, hoping for more bread. Achille fixed his eyes on them, he couldn't dare look up now.

"Oh, dear, where are my manners? Would you like some, Achille? My eyes are bigger than my stomach, and these chocolates are nice and rich."

Achille willed himself to take one and not say anything at the risk of making a fool of himself. While he's not an expert on the confectionary delights of Ul'dah, the ball of chocolate had a decent taste to it. They sat there in silence for what seemed like a long while, the flowing water of the fountain and shuffling doves keeping the din of Achille's racing heart at bay. Achille couldn't shatter the peace and ask why Patroclus had been crying, not on this special day. Not when he looked so content and relaxed.

"Thank you, Achille."

"… What for?"

"For remembering my nameday."

Achille's eyebrows raised to his hairline as he turned to look at the boy beside him. The veil of Patroclus' hat obscured his face, his hands holding onto the half-eaten box of chocolates. Achille didn't speak, he waited for Patroclus to continue. Patroclus deftly wiped away any brimming tears before they fell, swallowing them back down.

"It's silly, I know. My family is very busy, of course they wouldn't remember. We haven't celebrated my nameday since… after I turned sixteen. It wasn't a good day, that one. I have never seen my grandfather so furious, and I haven't since. But after that, my nameday came and went. It was like he couldn't care less about what this day meant. We're not the type of family to have grand celebrations, not anymore. But I enjoy them, and I miss having my family around. It gets lonely during this time of year."

Achille found himself inching closer to Patroclus when he saw his shoulders quiver, Patroclus' head dipping lower the more he talked. Achille heard bits and pieces of that day from various family members, but he doesn't want Patroclus to recount it. It pains him to remember.

"My friends from the conservatory make no mention of it either, and we just go about our daily lives and look at happy couples walk hand-in-hand down the lane. I said it doesn't bother me anymore, so I'm not sure why I'm crying over it now…"

Patroclus jumped to his feet, the box left to sit on the bench. A wry chuckle escaped his lips.

"Apologies. I must be boring you. I didn't mean to ramble—"

Achille grabbed his arm, but he didn't squeeze. It was a loose hold, enough to get Patroclus' attention.

"Please, don't go. I'll stay here and celebrate your nameday with you. Just me and you."

Patroclus looked surprised. He waited for Achille to backtrack, to catch on to the signals he was sending. Achille was steadfast.

"Are you sure?"

"Rhalgr's my witness."

Slowly, like dark clouds parting from the sun, Patroclus smiled, his freckles damp from tears. The two sat closer to each other this time, and Achille felt bold enough to wrap his arm around Patroclus' side. He prayed that Patroclus didn't feel his thundering heart as he lay against his shoulder. This is what friends do, Achille reminded himself—they comfort one another in their time of need. Achille would stay for as long as Patroclus needed him to.

"Thank you again, Achille."

"… 's all right."

too tired to make a gpose of this

but just know that achille would be sweating bullets as he gives patroclus a double nameday/valentione's day gift of chocolates because that's all he can afford. patroclus rewards him with a kiss and they eat the chocolate together :')

#posting this the day after because that's smart #i'm gonna need a tag for my writing #but yea... roughly 1.6k words of angst and fluff #i like writing from achille's pov. he's funny #i haven't written anything this long in forever so i'm a bit rusty. sorry for the abrupt ending #i imagine this is set during shadowbringers. before they became official #a lot of character development for my ocs that weren't involved in shb happened during this period #q.#mywritings.

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shurisneakers · 4 years ago

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harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.”

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction.

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves.

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year.

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over.

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture.

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.”

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?”

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve.

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line.

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t.

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up.

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.”

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank.

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.”

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on.

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

“Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in.

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing.

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion.

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas.

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury.

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly.

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?”

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it.

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday.

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table.

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too.

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group.

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running.

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces.

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation.

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately.

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account.

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop.

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu.

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there.

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay.

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you.

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?”

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?”

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside.

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense.

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining.

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass.

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise.

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.”

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter.

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly.

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing.

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He’d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing.

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm.

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report.

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system.

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board.

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them.

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought.

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods.

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.”

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.”

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face.

He narrows his eyes at you.

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case.

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

��No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted.

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated.

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.”

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial.

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done.

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks.

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind.

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots.

There was no going back now.

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously.

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt.

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly.

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.”

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.”

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.”

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you.

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago.

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave.

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically.

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes.

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability.

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave.

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you.

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly.

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future.

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk.

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him.

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.”

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery.

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly.

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face.

His stomach does a flip.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him.

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?”

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice.

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off.

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.”

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator.

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing.

Gosh.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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anonymousfiction211 · 3 years ago

Text

Happy birthday

Summary: Everyone has forgotten your birthday, expect your loving boyfriend Loki who has a special evening planned for you.

Word count: 2.588 words

Happy birthday When you woke up this morning you were so excited. But now, you couldn’t wait for this day to be over. The whole day went by and everyone had forgotten it was your birthday. There were no text messages from friends, no cards in the mail, not even your parents had bothered to call you. At work no colleague had congratulated you, there wasn’t even a cake – apparently the office tradition broke with you. And adding to your misery, Loki was still in Asgard and you had no idea when he would be back. For a moment you though about leaving a message for Heimdall, Loki had taught you how. But you didn’t feel like yelling to the sky, to a men you never met, only for him to tell your boyfriend that you were sad. And then what? You would only wonder the rest of the night if Loki had gotten your message or if he also didn’t care like everyone else.

Deciding against leaving a message you drove the rest of the way home in silence. By the time you arrived at your house you were actively holding back your tears. Somehow you had hoped that maybe it was all a trick and there would be a surprise party at your house. But there were no cars and you didn’t see the lights on in your house. You sat in your cars for a few minutes, taking a few deep breaths. You would just order a pizza, watch a movie, and go to bed. At least it was weekend now, and you could spend the weekend doing all the things you love like reading, baking, playing the piano and maybe buy a few more plants. You rumbled through your purse, looking for your keys. You got out of the car and opened your front door. You entered your hallway and the first thing you noticed was that there were lights on, and you could clearly hear someone walking around in the kitchen.

You briefly wondered how you didn’t see the lights from the outside of the house, you should have. But panic rises as you realized that someone was in your house. The problem was that your phone had died, so you needed the phone in your living room. But once you would call the person inside your house would hear, and that could lead to a very bad situation. You put your purse and keys down as quietly as you could. You grabbed an umbrella and slowly made your way to the kitchen. If you played this right you could knock the person out, tie them up and then call the police. With the umbrella in your hand, you slowly opened the kitchen door. There was a man in front of the furnace, standing with his back to you, but you recognized him immediately.

‘Loki?’ you asked.

He turned around and smiled brightly at you. ‘Happy birthday, love’ he said.

You immediately ran towards him and he opened his arms to catch you. It took a moment for the two of you to let go of each other. When you did he kissed you.

‘I missed you’ he said.

‘I missed you too. How are you even here? I thought you had to remain there until the end of the month?’ you asked him.

‘Darling, like I ever was going to miss your birthday’ he smirked.

Normally, you would laugh. But the remark hurt and you started to cry. Loki’s happy expression changed into a worried one. He pulled you closer and let you cry against his chest.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked when you stopped crying.

‘Nothing’ you mumbled, nuzzling closer to his chest. You didn’t want to admit it that everyone forgot your birthday.

Loki grabbed your shoulders, moved a bit away from you so he could look at your face. ‘Tell me’

You stared at the ground until a finger under your chin made you face Loki again. You sighed. ‘You’re the first person to remember today’ you said, your voice barely higher than a whisper.

You saw the hurt in Loki’s eyes before he pulled you into another tight hug. ‘That’s awful’ he whispered.

‘I’m really glad you’re here’ you said back.

‘Me too, and I will do everything in my power to make you happy tonight’ he said.

‘But why are you holding an umbrella? It isn’t raining?’ he asked.

You broke the hug and put the umbrella on the ground next to the door. ‘Ah, well. The lights were off, but when I entered I saw them on and heard you in here. I thought you were an intruder’ you explained a bit sheepishly.

‘And you were going to attack me with an umbrella?’ he cocked one of his eyebrows in amusement.

You shoved him ‘Shut up, that was the best plan I could think off’

He just laughed a little. ‘Sorry to startle you. The lights would be my doing. I really wanted tonight to be a surprise’ he explained.

How he did the trick with the lights you didn’t ask. You knew that once Loki started to talk about magic, he would be talking for hours on end. The kitchen timer went off and you noticed that Loki had something in the over. You were curious and tried to look passed him, but he blocked your view.

‘Go sit at the dining table. I have a few surprises for you tonight and you are far to curious, kitten’ he mused.

You wanted to protest, but the look of excitement on his face was way too adorable to ruin. So, you did as you were told. You walked to the dining room that was just across the hall. When you entered you froze. Not only had Loki already set the table, there also was a large bouquet of roses, candles were burning and your favourite wine was in a wine cooler. This was by far the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for you. You sat down in your chair when Loki walked in with two plates, covered by a lid.

‘You like it?’ he asked

‘I love it’ you smiled at him.

He sat the plates down and instead of removing the lid, grabbed the bottle of wine. He poured you a glass, which was thoughtful, but you suspected that he liked to drag out his surprise meal a little longer. He poured another glass for himself and sat down. He sat very close next to you, adding to the intimate dinner. Finally, Loki removed the lid from the plate and you saw your meal. It was your favourite, steak with red wine sauce, oven baked potatoes covered in herbs and green beans. It tasted amazing and suddenly you realized that Loki didn’t cook.

‘How did you manage this? I thought you couldn’t cook?’ you asked.

‘I wanted to do something special so, I learned this dish’ he explained a bit flush.

‘Hmm, don’t you remember early in our relationship that you explicitly stated that Gods don’t cook?’ you teased him.

Loki grabbed your hand kissed the back of it. ‘He does for the one he loves’ he said, making you fluster and blush. He smirked at the effect his words had on you. The rest of dinner the two of you talked about what had happened in the three weeks he was away. Loki, of course, had many stories that involved tricking and annoying Thor. Once you finished your meal Loki grabbed the plates and told you he was right back. He came back with a large slice of cheesecake the two of you shared. He told you proudly that he also made the dessert himself. When the two of you were finished you started to clean up, but Loki stopped you. He conjured up a blindfold and you looked questioningly at him.

‘I don’t want you to see just yet’ he mused.

You rolled your eyes but let him put on the blindfold. He steered you through the house. When he told you to stand still you felt him move in front of you. He undid the blindfold and once it was off he moved to the side.

‘Surprise’ he mused.

You gasped when you saw. Loki had set up an enormous blanket fort in your living room. There were blankets, large pillows and he had al kind of snack set up on the table. There was a string of light that gave the whole room a romantic vibe. The fort was placed so you could still see the tv, there were multiple DVDs laying in front of it. Next to de DVDs there were several board games.

��Remember our first movie marathon and we spontaneously build a blanket fort?’

‘Of course I do. That was the night you asked me on our first official date.’ you whispered a bit overwhelmed by his surprise.

‘A date that went so terrible you actually told me that the blanket fort was a much better date’ he mused.

‘Well yeah, you got us kicked out of the restaurant before our starters even came. It was pouring outside and you lost the car key’ you laughed. ‘But walking in the pouring rain with you turned out to be fun’ you added.

Loki grabbed your hand and guided you to the fort. He sat down and put you between his legs. The rest of the night the both of you cuddled, talked a lot, and played the games. A few hours later you decided to put on a movie.

‘Thanks for the amazing evening. This night was really the best gift you could have given me’ you said hallway through the movie.

‘Did you really think that this was your gift?’ he said.

You squirmed out of his grasp. Loki overdramatically sighed but laughed at your giddy attitude. He reluctantly let you go, so you could bounce up and down, excited to see what he was about the give you. He conjured up a small dark green box. When you reached for it he pulled it away.

‘I think I deserve a kiss first’ he smirked.

You rolled your eyes but started to kiss him. Knowing Loki, he would demand another kissed so, you made out with him for a while. The moment he lowered his hands around your waist you grabbed the box.

‘And they say I don’t play fair’ he teased.

You ignored his comment and opened the box. Inside the box was a beautiful golden necklace with a snake on it. The snake was in a s-form and there was a tiny green stone for the eyes.

‘It’s beautiful’ you said.

Before Loki could reply you grabbed his shirt and pulled him in for another kiss. He just laughed at your action and took the box from you, once you were done. He took out the necklace and you turned your back towards him. You removed your hair and he fastened the necklace around your neck. When it was in place you turned around and Loki pulled you flush against him.

‘Thank you, for everything’ you said.

‘I’m glad that you liked it all’ he said to you.

You kissed him again, more slowly this time. Loki moved his lips with yours and you felt his tongue asking for permission. You opened your mouth and he slid his tongue inside, exploring every inch. You moaned slightly in the kiss. Your hands were under his shirt and his were caressing your upper body. You stopped kissing him and pulled his shirt over his head. For a moment you stared at him, and you noticed Loki slightly blushing under your gaze.

‘Let’s make this more fair’ he whispered.

He removed your shirt and unclasped your bra in one smooth motion. He laid you down on your back and started to kiss your neck. He moved lower and swirled his tongue over every inch of your breasts. You were extremely aroused and your nipples were hard by the time he was done. You were breathing fast underneath him. He brought his head up to yours and kissed you deeply. He laid on his side next to you. His hand slowly trailed from your cheek down to your breasts. He pinched your nipple, earning him a gasp from you. He moved lower and undid the button of your pants. You eagerly kissed him back and stroked his naked chest. His fingers slipped between your folds. Once his fingers were wet with your arousal he circled your clit. He swallowed every moan and whimper that left your lips with his own mouth.

You felt the pleasure wash over you. Loki slowly circled your clit until your orgasm had subsided. He retracted his fingers and licked them clean.

‘You look very pretty when you come undone for me’ he whispered in your ear.

He pulled of your pants and underwear. Once you laid naked before him he removed his own. When his erect cock sprung free you licked your lips. You wanted to get up, to suck his cock, but Loki laid you back down.

‘Tonight, is about you’ he said.

He was on top of you and stroked his erect cock against your wet folds and your clit. In one smooth motion he pushed himself inside of you. Your legs automatically hooked around his waist and Loki started a slow pace. His eyes didn’t leave yours, unless he was kissing your mouth, neck or whispering in your ear. He whispered how beautiful you looked, how much he loved you and how incredible you felt around his cock. Because of the slow movements and your wetness, you could really feel every movement he made. Every movement was deliberate, it really felt like you were the only thing that existed for him right now.

To your surprise he stopped. Before you could ask, he rolled the two of you around. You were on top of him and due to gravity felt his cock slid deeper inside of you. Hitting just the right spot. You started to ride him in the same slow pace as him. It truly was a sight to have Loki lay underneath you, moaning and praising you. Once you felt your orgasm build up, you started to ride him faster. His hands went to your bouncing boobs and he started to play with them. This was definitely the most intense sex the two of you ever had, normally there were a lot of games and Loki was an enormous tease. Loki started to moan shamelessly underneath you, but you were doing the same at this point. When he started to circle your clit with his fingers you came undone immediately. You felt Loki’s cock twitch inside of you and his seed spill. After a few more thrusts you collapsed half on top of him. Once your and his breathing had gone back to normal you pulled him out of you. He immediately grabbed you back and laid you close to his chest.

He was stroking your arms. Goosebumps were forming and you started to shiver a little. Loki grabbed a blanket form nearby and pulled it over the two of you. He nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck and pulled you as close as he could.

‘This really is the best birthday I ever had’ you said.

‘It’s far from over yet, love’ Loki said while starting the kiss your neck and trailed his fingers to your clit.

Tags: @delightfulheartdream @the-best-phineas @theaudacitytowrite

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki of asgard #loki god of mischief #loki god of lies #loki smut #loki sweet #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x ofc #loki x original female character #loki x y/n #loki story #loki oneshot #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fic

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parkerslatte · 4 years ago

Text

Surprise

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.8k

Request: Hi, can I request a Spencer x reader request where the reader is pregnant and trying to surprise Spencer with the news? Obviously with his eidetic memory and him being a profiler it’s hard but it works out in the end? Thanks so much😘

A/N: Thank you for your request! I hope you like it :)

MASTERLIST

Requests Open

***

Trying to keep a secret from someone with an eidetic memory was hard - it was even harder when that person happened to be a profiler. Every time Y/N was having a bad day, Spencer would know, no matter how hard she tried to mask it. Due to Spencer picking up on the littlest things Y/N does, it was hard to keep a secret from him.

A few weeks ago Y/N had found out she was pregnant and she wanted to find the perfect way to tell Spencer. She had thought of a way except it needed to arrive in the mail first. That would take time - time she didn't have. Any day now Spencer would catch on.

There had been multiple occasions where Y/N would slip up and Spencer would get suspicious. However, knowing Spencer for as long ad she did, Y/N was able to play it off without him batting an eyelid.

However one incident, she slipped up more than usual.

Spencer had forgotten his lunch at home and Y/N decided to take it to him at work. She knew that it was a paperwork day so he would be there. Before she made the drive to Spencer's work however, she had to pick up one part of the surprise Y/N had planned to announce her pregnancy - a pair of converse for a baby.

The reason it took so long for her to get them was because she couldn't find a pair anywhere. Everywhere she looked, they were sold out. Once she picked them up, she shoved them in her bag without thinking.

When Y/N got to Spencer's work, she grabbed her bag that contained his lunch and headed up to the sixth floor. As soon as the elevator doors opened, Y/N saw a woman with blonde hair and a colourful dress walk past.

"Penelope!" Y/N said, stepping out of the elevator.

Penelope turned her head to the source of the voice and her eyes widened and a smile stretched across her face, "Y/N!" The blonde hastily wrapped the other woman in a hug, "I haven't see you in ages."

"I know!" Y/N responded, "Work has been keeping me busy." Along with other things.

"Well you need to come out on the next ladies night," Penelope said as the two began walking into the bullpen, "We've missed you hanging out with us."

"I miss hanging out with you too." Y/N replied.

"Y/N!" A voice announced. She looked up to come face to face with Derek Morgan.

"Derek!" Y/N replied before he wrapped her in a hug.

"What are you doing here?" He questioned.

Y/N gestured to her bag, "Spence forgot his lunch so I'm just dropping it off."

"Speak of the devil." Derek said, gaze drifting over Y/N's shoulder.

Y/N turned around and Spencer was walking up to the trio standing in the bullpen. A smile spread across his face once he saw Y/N. If she were the only one in the room, he would've strode up to her and planted his lips on hers. However, since there were plenty of other people around, Spencer settled for a quick hug instead - no matter how much he wanted for it to go on longer.

"What are you doing here?" Spencer questioned, hands being placed in his pockets to refrain from holding onto Y/N.

"I'm just dropping off your lunch, you were in a rush this morning and forgot it." Y/N explained and opened up her bag and rummaged through it to grab his lunch.

Her eyes widened when they landed on the small pair on black converse in her bag. Spencer, who had immediately noticed Y/N stop looking through her bag, furrowed his eyebrow in confusion and concern.

"You okay?"

Y/N looked up at him, "No, no, I'm fine, I just think I forgot my phone at home." She lied, though being around two profiles she was sure they could see right through it.

Spencer and Derek shared a look before Y/N rummaged through her bag once again, making sure to avoid the black converse, and pulled out Spencer's lunch.

"It hasn't been in the fridge since this morning so I would go and put it there, unless you're going to eat it now." Y/N explained, snapping her bag shut, suddenly becoming possessive over it.

"I'll go and put it in the fridge," Soencer said, concern lacing his tone, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, perfectly fine," Y/N replied, "I'm just feeling a little tired."

"Go home and get some rest, okay?" Spencer said, he knew that there was something else bothering Y/N but decided not to mention it, "I'll be home as soon as I can."

Y/N gave him a tight lipped smile before nodding, "I'll see you later." She turned to Penelope and Derek and bid goodbye to them. She leaned up and placed a quick kiss on Spencer's cheek before leaving.

Spencer turned and watched her leave. He wanted to follow her to make sure everything was okay but he couldn't, he needed to stay at work.

"Did she seem okay to you?" Spencer questioned, turning back to face Derek and Penelope.

"She seemed okay to me," Penelope said, "A little jumpy but okay."

"I'm sure she's fine, Reid, you don't need to worry." Derek reassured him.

Spencer nodded before heading to place his lunch in the fridge. For the rest if the day, his mind was filled with worry about Y/N.

***

Y/N was panicking. She could tell that Spencer knew that something was wrong with her. Y/N was sure that he hadn't seen the baby shoes in her bag but she couldn't help but think he had. Another reason as to why she was panicking was the second half of the surprise had gotten lost in the mail and was nowhere to be found.

Y/N was stressed, she couldn't keep her pregnancy a secret for much longer because if she did she would either blurt it out or she would leave it long enough until she started to show a small baby bump.

She was laying down on her bed tracing small patterns on her stomach, a soft smile on her face. No matter how stressed she was, it all diminished when she thought about hers and Spencer's child. They were going to be parents.

The door to the apartment opened and Y/N jumped up from the bed.

"Y/N!" Spencer announced, "I'm home."

She stepped out the bedroom and leaned against the doorframe, "I thought you weren't meant to be home for another hour."

"I finished my work early." Spencer replied, stepping over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Y/N snaked hers around his neck pulling him in close. The two of them stood there for a moment in each others arms. No matter how long the two had been together, they never got bored of just holding one another.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked after a long silence, "I was worried about you today."

"I'm fine, Spence," Y/N replied, "Let's just go to bed."

Y/N pulled away from Spencer and headed back into their bedroom. She was already wearing her pyjamas so she sat down on the bed and waited for Spencer to get changed. Once he did, he crawled into bed next to Y/N and she rested her head against his chest while he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him even more so there was not a single gap between the two.

Y/N pressed a kiss to Spencer's jaw as the two layed there in silence. One of Spencer's hands ran up and down her spine, tracing light patterns on it.

"I'm worried about you." Spencer mumbled.

"Why?" Y/N questioned.

"You were acting strange today," Spencer answered, "Actually, you've been acting strange for the past couple of weeks. You have an excuse for everything and you've been staying away from work for the past week. I just want to know you're okay."

Y/N was silent, she watched ad Spencer's chest raised up and down at a steady pace. Her finger trached his collarbone trying to find something to say.

"Y/N, please tell me what's wrong." Spencer asked, wrapping her hand on his chest in his.

Y/N sighed, "I didn't want to tell you now. I wanted to wait until I had another thing for it but I don't think I can keep this a secret much longer."

Y/N got up from the bed and rummaged through her bag in the other side if the room. She pulled out the converse and hid them behind her back.

Spencer sat up in the bed, curious as to why Y/N was being so secretive.

"I wanted to make this perfect but the other half to the surprise for lost in the mail," Y/N began to explain, "And the reason I was acting strange earlier was because I accidentally left these in my bag and was afraid you would see."

Y/N revealed the pair of converse from behind her back and held them up to Spencer's view. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion before Y/N began to speak again.

"The baby bib that I ordered with a scientific pun you would understand didn't arrive."

Spencer's eyes widened once he realised what the small converse meant. Hee looked up at Y/N who had a soft smile on her face.

"Wait, you're..." Spencer couldn't finish his sentence before tears began to fill his eyes. Y/N nodded, tears springing to her own eyes.

Spencer scurried out if bed and wrapped Y/N in his arms, holding onto her like she would disappear, "You're pregnant."

Y/N nodded into Spencer's shoulder, "We're having a baby, Spence. You're gonna be a dad."

Spencer pulled away and rested his forehead against Y/N's, his hands brushing over her stomach. He was at a loss for words, overwhelmed with emotion.

"I knew something was wrong, but I didn't expect..." A tear fell down Spencer's cheek and Y/N wiped it away.

"I'm gonna be a dad." Spencer said, finally.

"Yes you are, Spence. You're going to be the best dad in the world."

"And you're going to be the best mother I'm the world." Spencer mumbled before pressing his lips against Y/N's, both smiling into the kiss.

Y/N was the first to pull away from the kiss, "I'm sorry that this wasn't the perfect way to tell you but-"

"It was perfect," Spencer cut her off, "I wouldn't care how you told me, it would be perfect anyway."

Y/N smiled and pecked his lips, "We're gonna be parents."

"I'm never going to get tired if hearing that." Spencer replied, wrapping his arms around Y/N.

SPENCER REID TAGLIST

@spenxerslut @averyhotchner @drayshadow @reidemandweep @moviequeen51 @spencer-reid-am-i-right @ssavanessa22 @amurderofcrowsinatrenchcoat

- add yourself to my taglist HERE or message me to be added or removed :) -

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler #submission

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char-lotta · 4 years ago

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Forget me not (Part 1/3)

Pairing: Jake x MC

Words: 1,6k

Summary: Forgetting is hard but forgiving is harder.

Warnings: -

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

Forget me not - part one

You looked on the screen without thought in your head. The download bar was moving so slowly, that you couldn’t even pin it to actually move. The quiet humming coming from the countless computers filled the dark room with only you in there. Although, you were used to be alone, since that was the way of living you had performed for years already. You were alone and empty. You wouldn’t describe yourself alive, just plainly existing.

Something interrupted your catatonic state of just being alive and it took you a while to realize what it was. You looked your phone which had dim light with simple text on the screen.

MC: Please, could we just talk? I miss you.

Those blue eyes of yours read the message again and again and something warm sparked inside of you. You quickly diminished it when you found yourself thinking of her, the subject what you had forbidden yourself for weeks now. You swiped the message away from your screen and turned the phone screen down on the table. She would eventually stop.

-_-_-_-_-

Few days later, you received another message. You unlocked your screen and looked those words written by someone, who you didn’t deserve, but still wanted to be with you. God knows why.

MC: Jake, I really need to talk to you.

Something ached in your heart when you closed the message again and you sighed heavily. Why couldn’t she just let go? You had explained to her that this was for her own protection, and the image of her hurt face was burned in your mind. You could almost hear the sobs if you closed your eyes now. She didn’t know that you saw her though, because you were too coward to tell her that straight and instead took care of that by sending a text to her, but you had watched her from afar. How lame of you, but what else could you expect from twisted image of a man as you were.

You couldn’t resist yourself and you opened a CCTV in one of your screens. It showed her at work, in her tiny cubicle, as you knew her working schedule. You promised yourself that just this one time, you would allow yourself to look at her: her long brown curls, the worried face of hers and your favorite part; her neck. Oh, how you missed to be close to her, bury your face in her neck and smell that enchanting scent of lilies in her skin and shampoo on her hair. You couldn’t see it on the blurry CCTV, but she had a small mole just below her ear, where you had drawn circles in your finger when she slept. She was beautiful, as always; those soft lips of hers and you could remember them to whisper you all kinds of sweet words at the morning dusk, when she thought you were asleep. I love you; she had said and all you wanted to do, was embrace her and never let go of her.

But you did.

She was biting her lip again, what she always did when she was nervous. And it was because of you, and you knew it. She looked so fucking sad when she held her phone in her lap, looking at the screen, hoping that you would answer to her. But you couldn’t, and it was completely your own fault. You closed the CCTV and let your mind drift again to that emptiness, what had been your loyal companion always.

-_-_-_-_-_-

You received the next message in the same night, but you weren’t asleep since you never slept. You had only these nightmares what would follow you from dream to dream and sometimes you saw them during the days too.

MC: Don’t you think that I can decide myself what is good for me?

MC: You promised me that you would always be there for me, but there you are; not answering any of my text or calls.

You clenched your fists and saw that she was writing again. No, she was not capable of deciding where she should put herself in danger or not. She let her emotions cloud her judgment, and you had warned her since the beginning of the mission to find Hannah, that there should not be emotions involved because they would just make things harder. She couldn’t see it, but you could. Your pursuers had been on your tails and they were getting closer and closer.

When they had sent you that image, something broke inside of you and you just knew, that this happiness of yours was short-term. You had promised to her that you would always be there, but she forgot the most important promise that you had made to her; you would always protect her. And that was the promise which you were keeping, and you could never forgive yourself if something happened to her. She was dragged in to this involuntary, she hadn’t asked for it. Why should you put your feelings towards her to be more important that her life was?

The message coming from that image that your pursuers had sent you couldn’t be any clearer; it showed her coming out of her apartment door. They knew who she was and where she lived and what she meant to you. In that moment you had realized that she already was in mortal danger and you had put her in this position just simply loving her. It had to be stopped and no one else couldn’t do that for you, so it had to be you. You were going to break her.

MC: I fucking hate you

MC: I loathe you

MC: How can you do this to me?

The texts were coming quickly now, and you could see that she was frustrated and angry. Her words I fucking hate you and I loathe you felt like daggers in your abdomen, but at the same time, you were satisfied. The anger of hers would help her cope losing you and moving on. She deserved someone who could be there for her without putting her at risk, although even the thought of her being with someone else killed you slowly. But this had to be done.

MC: I loved you and I would have given my life for you

MC: And you threw me away like I am garbage

MC: I don’t want to hear from you ever again

Good, you thought, you never will. And with that thought you muted your phone and returned to your computer.

-_-_-_-_--

It had been two months now from the last message of hers and four since you had last met. You could see the sun getting up between the curtains and you switched your screen to her workplace’s system, just for the check up on her, as you did every morning. You searched her name in the list of employees logged on, but you couldn’t find her. You frowned and checked again, but she wasn’t there. With a few buttons you had opened the CCTV and looked at her cubicle, but it was empty.

Where was she?

The cubicle looked plain, and you realized that her plants and pictures were missing too. Personally, you didn’t understand of the concept of having all kind of distracting things on your desk, but considering that she always bought a new plant for substitute of what she had involuntary killed, she seemed to love them. Confused, you rewind the security tape to last day and stopped when she was shown on the tape and looked closely. She had a box with her, and she was picking up all her personal things from her desk and when she was done, she left. You followed her via the cameras of the elevator.

Maybe she got promotion and had gotten herself a new room?

But no, she went with her stuff to the elevator and took the trip down and left the building.

“What the fuck” you muttered and switched to her apartment’s hallway camera. You zoomed in her apartments door and saw that there was apparently a small family moving in. There was no sight of her in the video and her apartment seemed empty. You felt your heartbeat rising and your palms turned sweaty. You tried to log on her phone and use the GPS to track her, but she had turned her phone off.

“FUCK!” you yelled and threw the coffee mug you had, into the wall. Where had she gone?

You logged on her social medias, but she had updated those months ago, so they weren’t helpful. You had promised to her that you wouldn’t read her messages, but she didn’t leave you a choice, you had to know where she was. You saw that she had discussed with her friends, but the topics were daily stuff and chit chat.

You opened up her emails, but they weren’t important, containing only work-related mails and some recommendations from HBO, which suggested that she needed to re-watch Game of Thrones sixtieth time this year. She knew that you would investigate those while looking for you and she was doing her best on covering her tracks.

Few flying coffee cups later and you were shouting from frustration. You breathed heavily and stared the monitors. You had taught her well, but that was the point, you had taught her. You had told her that when she was booking any tickets or making any travel plans, she wasn’t supposed to use her own email as a verification, but spam email you had created to her, which servers were located some tiny island on the Caribbean Sea. You typed the address on your browser, and there it was, ticket confirmation mail.

Thank you for booking your trip to Duskwood from us!

Here are some tips for your journey –

You tried to read the message, but your brains didn’t oblige with you and you just kept looking those letters what didn’t make any sense. No fucking way…

Why was she going to Duskwood?

#duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jake #duskwood #everbyte duskwood #jake x mc #jake x player #jake x reader #duskwood fanfiction

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0risha · 4 years ago

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➵ @tsykosim asked for a side dish - fluff // - fem poc (she/they) katsuki bakugou // song: streets (slowed) by doja cat

➵ chef's note : uhhh I actually like this lol I hope you do too sim!! I know the event is over but I still have a few more requests to post

300 event with @kazekugisaki (check out her works)

— p. s. this event is now closed 😤

Bakugou Katsuki is probably the most aggravating boy you’ve ever met, with his never-ending bursts of temper, his venom-laced words that flew out like second nature(maybe because it was), and his complex that was too indecipherable to put an exact label on. But the downside of it all -probably the biggest one of your life- was that he was the prettiest. Around U.A, apart from his temper, he’s known for his looks, said to match with his flames; hot and all of those other endearing terms.

He was, but there were things that bled through. Little habits that he allowed you and only you, to see. The most surprising, jaw-dropping, one that you’d found was his hidden green thumb.

You stumbled across it by pure accident. It was a study date, one that you had offered after the first three months of you both being together. You hated studying but it was worth going through the turbulence because it was something the boy you liked, loved.

Mitsuki had greeted you at the door with a wide smile, like always. You remember your sense of confusion when she told you that her good-for-nothing son was stationed outside in their backyard. That day, it’d been raining and Bakugou despised training in the rain. The accumulation of sweat and rain was only fit for a sick bastard, he told you after a day Aizawa made you all run laps under pouring rain.

So, you turned away with a smile of thanks and made your way to the Bakugo’s backyard.

When you saw Katsuki hunched over three beds of a variety of plants with rain covers, your first reaction wasn’t one of shock. To be honest, it was a shiver of fear that frosted your spine.

You made an attempt to turn back. You didn’t want him to see that you had found out one of his secrets. You knew it was a secret, it had to be. He didn’t share this with you when you sent him that 20+ questions text Mina forwarded to you, you had no idea that he had loved plants. You knew it was love, it was frighteningly obvious, you saw it in his content expression. His usual glare was nonexistent too, a ghost of a smile replacing it.

You’d already been surprised to the utmost level that day, but it reached different heights when he called you over, his smile wider than before. You nearly burst into tears when he patted a patch of concrete next to him, motioning for you to sit, and lectured you on every single plant he had.

Bakugou Katsuki was full of surprises.

That thought had followed you for months. It ran rampant in your mind when he first gave you a finely prepared bento box. It ran rampant when he offered you a gleaming necklace with an emblem of a silver flame that laid prettily on your collarbone, and now as you both shared a kiss.

With no mistake, you guys had kissed several times. Whether it be stolen ones, barely-there ones, or silly ones, there were only ones you initiated. It was fine with you, you enjoyed the surprised looks and flustered cheeks but this, this feeling that wrapped its gentle claws in your every crevice was none like before.

His lips were pillowy soft, you knew this, you’d felt them many times before. His breath was one of prior mint gum, you also knew this, he ran his mouth too much not to. You reveled in his scent which contrary to popular belief was one of lavender. That familiar, soothing smell that clung to his skin. His favorite plant were lavenders, you knew this too. He even had a collection of lavender scents he shared with you. Maybe it was because of what it symbolized; that admirable, visible devotion that followed Katsuki wherever he went.

But the notable change in this kiss, initiated by him, was a mystery. As corny as it sounded, you guessed it to be what love was, a compelling magnet that was a mystery to all. And when you detached your lips from his, that same magnet had you pulling back, to again, encompass his lips with yours.

“What was that all about,” you giggled, raising a hand to brush past your swollen lips.

“You were distracted,” he grunts, ruby eyes digging into yours.

“Oh,” you whisper, turning away. Now, he was flustering you, his gaze was hot and heavy and filled you with unimaginable tales.

“Was just thinking about you.” You confess, wiggling your toes as a source of distraction. With that, you glance to the side to gauge his reaction.

“Really?” He raised a brow. “Well, that’s to be expected.”

With an eye roll, you raise your hand to give his shoulder a shove but before you can, he grabs it and pulls you closer to him. “What were you thinking about?” Your eyes flutter shut as his nose brushes past your own.

“How pretty you are,” you smile and it turns sickeningly sweet when his cheeks flush with red.

“I’m not pretty,” he grunts while a sneer pulls his top lip. “How the hell am I pretty?”

With bated breath, you scan his face. How was Bakugou pretty? To you, you tied his pretty features to moments. The way his eyes would light up when you gulped down his bento boxes with no hesitance.

The way he smiled that proud smile when you paired his necklace with every outfit you could. Maybe it was how, at times, he forgot to shield his emotions when he was with you, his chain mail of pride discarded elsewhere when he held your hands in his. It could’ve been the way his movements became serene when he bonded with his plants.

Truthfully, it was probably all of them together; carefully thrown in a melting pot to make your Bakugo Katsuki.

But he didn’t have to know that, at least, not now.

“I’ll tell you later.”

#bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia drabbles #my hero x reader #my hero x you #mha fluff #my hero academia fluff #xetou and kaze hit 300!#bakugou x you #bnha fluff #bnha x reader

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yellowocaballero · 4 years ago

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The Crow’s Funeral Snippet: Jon Gets Involved In Local Politics, Regrets It

Annabelle, of course, was standing on the other side of the door.

Slightly less obviously, she was dressed in a finely tailored suit, complete with high heels and a gorgeous dripping silver chain-link necklace. Her hair was tied up in an up-do of braids piled neatly on top of her head, and there was even a briefcase.

She looked Jon up and down critically. He was wearing sweatpants and a holey shirt.

“You forgot,” she condemned, “didn’t you?”

“No I didn’t,” Jon said reflexively. He paused. “Forgot what?”

Annabelle pinched the bridge of her nose. Jon noticed that she was even wearing her usual all-black lipstick and winged eyeliner. “The council committee for London I planned for today. Remember? The one with a representative for each Entity?” Jon stared blankly at her. “There was an invite?”

“Oh, that. I don’t check my mail.” Jon looked at Daisy, who was now pressing aggressively against Jon. “Did you open up any mail recently?” Daisy barked. Jon looked back at Annabelle. “She ate it.”

“...of course she did.” Written for no real reason besides for the fact that I know too much about my own AU and I care about Annabelle. This story takes place both pre- and post- story: six months after Jon enters London, and six months after the events of the story. We talk about childhood/adulthood, stagnancy/growth, good/evil, and the inherent metaphor of a Nintendo DS. Sometimes...found family...is bad. Rest under the cut.

In the third month, boiling and bubbling over, someone knocked at Jon’s door.

Not the door to his office. The door to his flat, which had a very large ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ sign on it, and was always locked. The employees were, granted, Jon and Daisy, but the message was conveyed. Jon saw the sign in stores and copied it, as he copied many aspects of business models. Jon didn’t quite understand how to run a business, but he had read both ‘What they teach you in Harvard Business School’ - whatever a Harvard was - and ‘What they don’t teach you in Harvard Business School’, so he figured he was set. Daisy had also grabbed him a Girl Scout book on starting your own lemonade stand, which helped more than the other two books combined. Harvard Business School could take notes.

Jon rolled off the bed, where he had been downloading knowledge of string games and trying to figure out how to do them. Omniscence was closer to reading an instruction manual than actually knowing how to do something, but at least that left Jon with plenty of time to learn skills. Even if it wasn’t necessarily his favorite activity - he was bad at a lot of them, which would frustrate him and make him wreck the craft. Daisy kept on saying he needed a hobby other than reading but what did she know, anyway -

Daisy, from where she had been sleeping at the foot of the bed, lifted her head and barked sleepily.

“I’ll get them to go away,” Jon promised. Or eat them. Maybe just eat them.

But when Daisy bristled and jumped off the bed, barking heavily, he knew who it was. Jon sighed, hastily shoving a shirt over his head, and undid the three deadbolts before unlocking the door.

Annabelle, of course, was standing on the other side. Slightly less obviously, she was dressed in a finely tailored suit, complete with high heels and a gorgeous dripping silver chain-link necklace. Her hair was tied up in an up-do of braids piled neatly on top of her head, and there was even a briefcase.

She looked Jon up and down critically. He was wearing sweatpants and a holey shirt.

“You forgot,” she condemned, “didn’t you?”

“No I didn’t,” Jon said reflexively. He paused. “Forgot what?”

Jon stared blankly at her.

“There was an invite?”

“...of course she did.” Annabelle glanced down at Daisy, whose fur was standing on end as she growled lowly. “Have you had any success?”

“You would have noticed if I did,” Jon said shortly.

“Have you tried talking to -”

“Yes,” Jon snapped, “but apparently some of us have better things to do than attend meetings and cure dogs.”

Annabelle intelligently dropped the matter, instead frowning at Jon. He crossed his arms, fighting the urge to hunch over away from her dark and perceptive stare. But instead of pushing him, she said, “Go get dressed in something a little appropriate, please. You look like you crawled out of the Buried.” Daisy barked, which Annabelle ignored. “What are you doing to your hair?”

Jon hunched defensively. It was a little matted and frizzy, but who was counting? “Daisy can’t exactly shave it anymore, and I don’t really...know what to do with it...am I doing something wrong? I bathe.”

It was very important to Daisy that he bathe and brush his teeth. Jon didn’t know what the big deal was, but if it was important to her then he did it.

Annabelle just pinched the bridge of her nose again, checking her wrist-watch. “Buzzing your hair is a crime against God, and letting your hair look like that is a crime against me. I’ll take care of this later. Just get ready in the next five minutes, or I’m filling your fridge with spiders again.”

Jon got ready in four. Annabelle didn’t joke around with that stuff.

He didn’t really know what a council committee was. He didn’t know why he had to go to one either, seeing as Jon only tended to concern himself with Daisy. Daisy had been taking up a lot of his concern lately. Then his mood had plummeted again, and in the last month they’ve both been recalcitrant to leave the flat for anything but eating, and he was capable of noticing when he was hunting a little vindictively, and - anyway.

He downloaded the knowledge, and then made a face when it didn’t really help. One of those nasty little political things. What was with his fellow Avatars and politics? Just torture anyone who bothers you. If they were one of those freaks who liked being tortured, then just smite them. Life was easy and very simple once you remembered that basic rule.

But Annabelle was really into it - she kept on saying something about ‘order’ and ‘regulation’ and ‘first dibs’ - and she tended to drag him along into these things. She thought it was ‘important’ that Jon ‘know what was going on’ or something. Jon liked Knowing things, but once you know everything you realize that some things aren’t really interesting enough to know.

When he asked Daisy if she wanted to go with, she feigned sleep. She had been hyperactive lately, compensating for her months of starvation with unbridled and frantic Hunting. Jon had taken her to one of those little pockets where people were running around and screaming all the time, and let her run wild in the rainforest for a while. It was the kind of fun bonding experience they hadn’t had in ages, and Jon had the opportunity to pluck his own grapes from the vine too.

There had been an old man who really hadn’t been happy to see Jon, which had freaked him out a bit. He had started going on a little bit about how Jon had ruined his life, but he only got a few sentences in before a giant, carnivorous plant had eaten him. That was lucky.

Jon had ripped the dimension apart as he left. Nasty little place. Nothing good there.

So Jon left the house without Daisy for the first time since she had been well enough to move around, and with Annabelle. Daisy had been waiting at the door with a rucksack packed with his favorite book and his Nintendo DS, which made Annabelle ask her where the juicebox was. Daisy tried to bite her again. Jon didn’t know why everybody couldn’t just get along.

There was a cab waiting outside, driven by another skeleton, and Annabelle quickly bundled him into it. Jon slouched in the corner and started playing WarioWare as Annabelle leafed through typewritten documents, lips pursing and making notes on the margins of each one with a red pen. She was muttering to herself, somewhat entertainingly.

“My fourth arm for a computer, I swear to Jesus. My fourth and fifth arms. My sixth arm for a computer…”

“Are those the internet machines you told me about?” Jon asked, scribbling his stylus on the screen. Ashley cheered him on. He loved Ashley. “Do council committees need the internet?”

“The internet’s for a lot more than council committees Jon,” Annabelle said tightly. “They’re for video games. Ememoharepeegees -”

“Gesundheit.”

“ - bitcoin mining, instant messaging, online dating, freaking Google Docs -”

“Do you want it back?” Jon asked, bored. “I can make you the internet.”

Annabelle’s pen froze on the paper, hovering over a bullet-point list. “The entire internet? You can just do that?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Jon poked his tongue out his mouth in concentration as he pressed the monkeys in a rhythmic order. Rhythm games were his jam. “That’s, like, the pocket nightmare dimension from Tron, right? I can do that. Addictions are easy. Put people inside, trap them inside a video or something. It’d be mostly for torture but you could probably use it normally.”

Annabelle stared at him, expression blank, for so long it made Jon a little uncomfortable and defensive. What had he said wrong? Daisy was usually good at interpreting these things for him, although sometimes when people went on about ‘violence’ she was just as confused as him. Finally, she said, “No, that’s alright. I always hated Black Mirror anyway.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a telly - never mind. I don’t want you getting any more ideas.”

***

The council committee was held in the stupidest building Jon had ever seen in his entire life. And he had been in London for six months. He knew stupid buildings.

‘London City Hall’ or whatever was this awful giant, lopsided, obloid monstrosity. All glass and windows, with nary a brick in sight, Jon hated it instantly and severely. He was immediately filled with the urge to turn to somebody and commiserate with them about shitty architecture, but there was nobody else in the cab but Annabelle - and, well, she seemed to have other things on her mind.

The neighborhood around it was filled with a mix of equally stupid buildings and perfectly respectable buildings that looked as if they had been made a long time ago. The sidewalks were relatively abandoned, and the streets were empty of everything but the endless rotation of tourist double-decker busses. Jon knew that this wasn’t one of those districts where people actually lived and roamed - instead, it was one of those business districts that people only stepped inside for work or city business. Like that silly little Palace of Westminster building that Annabelle had taken him to months ago when she was showing him the city.

That building Annabelle had especially loved. It was filled with old white men with sagging jowls and liver spots, looping in endless routines and miniature atrocities. Annabelle had asked him to take as many Statements as possible, and Jon had needed no encouraging.

That had been a strange trip. Normally people found his little monologues boring, because they were idiots with no taste, but Annabelle had listened to every single one. She had been enraptured, excited and triumphant. She had dragged him into some “Lord’s Chamber” or something and posed on the throne as Jon obediently took polaroids. Well, so long as she was happy.

Jon was already seeing that London City Hall was no better. Annabelle dragged him through it, anxiously checking and re-checking her files, as they effortlessly weaved between shambling zombies of old white men in suits. Jon tasted the ripe air of trauma from them - a similar taste to that spiralling academic building, but rather a little more tart - but Annabelle dragged him away before he could stop and eat them.

There were parts of London that were safe. Maybe even most of London - although nowhere was truly safe, not really, not every location was absolutely haunted. The grocer’s was the grocer’s; the chemist still sold your medication. Not that you really needed it anymore, but habit was habit.

But some buildings, which were entrenched so firmly in hundreds of years of evil, could not be dissuaded from their nightmares. In that respect, the safest city in the United Kingdom became the most dangerous. Some buildings had been nightmares even before the end of the world.

Jon, of course, gave very little shits about this beyond in the academic sense. Annabelle refused to let him duck out of her meeting to go snack, and she ended up dragging him in front of what looked like a smallish conference room.

Annabelle stopped in front of it, taking a second to breathe in and out and check her makeup. She seemed to be hyping herself up for it, shaking out her arms loosely. Jon slouched behind her, hands jammed in his trenchcoat pockets. Annabelle had asked him to put on a less raggedy suit, but - well, he sometimes had nicer suits, but they got raggedy very quickly. She had also asked him to leave the trenchcoat at home, but no way. It was part of his Look.

“You’re frightened,” Jon noted with interest. Annabelle was scared of less than he was, and she had much less of a reason. “What about this room scares you?”

“It’s not the people in the room,” Annabelle snapped, flashing her compact shut. “It’s what I’m trying to do. If this world’s going to last more than a few years before it devolves into fuckin’ Mad Max we need leadership. I didn’t put all of this work in just to -” At Jon’s blank look, she sighed. “Never mind. You don’t care. Just - try to trust me, Jon.”

“Of course I trust you,” Jon said, baffled. “Why wouldn’t I?”

She stared at him, expression inscrutable, for a long moment, before opening the door and pulling him in.

It was a nice conference room, all wood panelling and that specific green shade you only saw in lawyer’s offices. There was a large rectangular table in the center, and more than a dozen luxurious chairs arranged around it. There was a big pull-down screen on the far wall. Jon didn’t know what it was for, but he knew that if he downloaded the information it wouldn’t help. Omniscence was so useless.

In a move that horrified Annabelle, most of the attendees seemed to be there. They had been chatting - talking, actually, quite loudly - before Annabelle strode in and Jon slumped in after her. But in the second that they both stepped in, an abrupt hush swept the room, and every eye swiveled to them.

If Jon was honest with himself, he’d say that they didn’t quiet when Annabelle stepped in. He’d say that they quieted when Jon stepped in. That it was Jon who they were looking at.

But Jon didn’t particularly feel like engaging with that. He didn’t like being stared at by people he didn’t know, and he didn’t like being out in public with people he didn’t know. He didn’t enjoy being in buildings or meeting new people, much less going to boring meetings. Jon decided all of this instantaneously, as every eye swiveled to him.

Rooms full of humans were fine. It was just humans. Nothing even vaguely intimidating about that, unless the humans were teenage girls. But these were Avatars - Jon could taste their nature in the air, a sharp and electric tingle - and when they stared at Jon he felt something heavier in their gaze. Oh, lord. There was a teenage girl here.

Jon tried slumping to the back chair, but Annabelle grabbed his collar and dumped him in a comfortable chair to her right. Jon saw a little placard in front of it that read ‘THE BEHOLDING’. Great.

“Thank you all for coming today,” Annabelle said crisply, and suddenly every worry was gone. She was calm, poised, confident, and professional. A perfect imitation of the officials and politicians who once really walked these halls, who passed laws and rubber-stamped policies. She could have passed for an assistant or junior staff member, bright and intrepid and ready to climb her way up the ladder. “Are we all accounted for?”

It seemed so. Every chair but one was filled. When Jon peered around at the placards, he saw that each one had a different Entity on it. One of the seats had no placard, and was occupied by said teenage girl. Four were unoccupied: the Spiral, the Slaughter, the Hunt and the Extinction.

Annabelle sat down in the head chair, which seemed just a little fancier. She put her folder in front of her, eyes flickering down the room. “It seems that Helen couldn’t make it. The Hunt duo seem to have...recently met unfortunate ends. The Slaughter Avatar called ahead to say that they couldn’t make it - it was high school picture day? And...I suppose the Extinction Avatar still doesn’t exist.”

She glanced at Jon, who shook his head. “Do you want one?” Jon asked. “I can go find a climate change denier in this building and make one for you.”

That also disturbed Annabelle, as well as everyone else. Jon abruptly felt awkward, and hunched in his seat. He defensively pulled out his DS, his plans to fall asleep in the back of the room already foiled.

Above him, Annabelle continued droning. “Still, I appreciate you all coming. I know that we haven’t all gathered since a bit after the apocalypse began -” Wait, they had? Since when? “ - but I hope we can agree that further coordination is necessary. We’ve already begun having serious territory and jurisdiction disputes, and it’s best that they’re resolved sooner rather than later.” Nobody looked very impressed, but Annabelle looked seriously at them all anyway. “I want us all to have an equal voice at this table. Save the fighting for another time. And please try to keep your powers out of here. I’ve already sworn to avoid using any of my Mother’s gifts in this room, and I hope you all can do the same.”

“Yeah?” A woman drawled. She was unfamiliar to Jon, like most people in the room, but she had a teenage girl sitting next to her who seemed to be paying rapt attention to Annabelle. “How are you going to enforce that?”

Annabelle stared at him for some reason. Jon jabbed at his DS and won the Mona minigame. Nothing more was said.

“Alright, then. I’ve already collected motions from all of you prior to this meeting.” Motions? Annabelle hadn’t said anything like that. Maybe it was on the invitation Daisy ate, but somehow he doubted it. Annabelle looked down and traced her finger down to her first point. “Many of you suggested this, so I would like to introduce it as a general discussion. Territory disputes, apparently, are a point of contention between many of us.” She opened her briefcase and pulled out a large map, and if Jon looked over the top of his DS he could see that it was a map of London. She also pulled out a red marker, uncapping it. The sheet was laminated, and there were already circles and markings all over it. “We’ll go one at a time. Amherst, you’ve motioned that the Stranger is intruding within Camden.”

A foppish looking man on a dumb little top hat scowled, as the young woman sitting behind the Strange placard looked annoyed. “It is gentrification. Every apartment complex occupied by artist studios are stealing food from the plate of my insects.”

“You haven’t had Camden for a decade,” the Stranger woman said, rolling her eyes. The Omniscience informed Jon that her name was Sarah Baldwin. Vaguely familiar - had he seen her at a cafe? “Nobody lives in those rat-infested tenements anymore. Now all the rats are performance art. Which is us. Get over it.”

“What is performance art -”

“Motion for no more Avatars over the age of 40,” Sarah Baldwin said. “I hate how Amherst and Wakely are in this room.”

“I wish I could second that,” Annabelle said, to the great affront of two grimy old men, “but unfortunately we do have to deal with this. Amherst, I’ve heard several complaints from other council members that you’re infiltrating their territory.”

“I am made of bugs -”

Jon checked out after that.

Instead, he surveyed the room a bit. Nobody in it was really interesting, just a meaningless collection of self-important people. The only person in the room other than Annabelle who he recognized was Oliver, who was sitting at the very back doing his best to fall asleep. When Jon Stared at him a bit he took notice and subtly waved. Jon shyly waved back. Jon liked Oliver.

Oliver mouthed something adjacent to ‘what is wrong with your hair’, offending Jon grievously. He didn’t look that bad, did he?

He glanced to his left, then down, to ask Daisy’s opinion, but he realized too late that she hadn’t come with him. Stupid. She could have come as part of the Hunt - they didn’t have anybody, it wasn’t as if they could complain. Not to Jon, anyway.

But she wouldn’t have wanted to. Daisy hated being an Avatar, for reasons that Jon had just never understood. She tried explaining it to him a long time ago, trying to talk about how guilty it made her and how much harm she had done, but it had just confused him more. She had tried to explain up until the end, as Jon had grown more and more angry at her for her refusal. He had never understood.

She had stopped talking about it lately, though. Which was good. Jon didn’t know what he’d do if she starved herself twice. He wouldn’t have tolerated it.

Daisy had told him that the most important thing in the world was to make your own choices. So he let her make hers. No matter how much he hated it.

The others weren’t familiar at all. There was a woman with wild dark hair sitting behind the Dark placard, which confused Jon slightly until he decided that they likely hadn’t wanted to send the thirteen year old. There was this really wrinkly and gross old man for the Vast, a younger looking but older feeling man for the Buried, a deathly pale woman for the Lonely, the muscular woman and the teenager for the Desolation...why did they have two…

The teenager was staring at Jon. She had intense orange eyes, the kind that bored into you and never blinked. She looked away every few seconds, as if she was being subtle, but when her gaze drifted back to him again he met her eyes with an unimpressed stare. She squeaked and looked away firmly, hiding behind her curtain of long red hair.

Okay. Whatever. Kids were weird. Jon was glad he had never been one.

Jon swapped out WarioWare for Pokemon SoulSilver, opening back up where he left off catching another MissingNo. His entire team was full of the things. He wanted a Mareep, damn it.

Finally, Annabelle rapped the table sharply and said, “It’s agreed, then. Everybody submit specific written documentation of your territory by city block, and fax it to me by our next meeting. Please abide by the resolutions to the conflicts we discussed here. Any objections to moving onto our next order of business?”

“I have an objection to the Dark’s questionable behavior,” the Buried guy rumbled. He was dripping dirt everywhere. Why didn’t anybody complain to him about his hygiene? “In the words of the lad Brody, they are kill stealing. If they do not withdraw their nightmares from our embrace of the Earth, we will unleash retribution with extreme prejudice. The dirt is a holy place, and we will not be polluted by -”

“Oh, stick your shovel up your fat ass, Wakely,” the woman with wild black hair said. “People aren’t afraid of the fucking dirt, they’re afraid of the darkness in the tombs. Walk into a mausoleum sometime.”

“You poach the End’s territory now too, wench?”

“Please leave me out of this,” Oliver said.

“If you call me wench one more time, you’ll be watching the back of your eye sockets for eternity,” the woman said pleasantly, “so royally fuck you.”

“Um, not to interrupt, but that’s not really how it works,” the teenager said, and the death glares between the two turned on her. She hunched her shoulders, but her expression stayed firm. “The terror is going to overlap. That’s just how it is. The Buried and the Dark are not entirely...separate things, they’re gradients that overlap. If you get all finicky about what belongs to who, then you’re just going in circles…”

“The last thing we need is the coward Messiah of the Eternal Flame telling me how to worship my god,” the woman snapped.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Manuela,” the muscular woman said flatly.

Then they were glaring, and Wakely was saying something else snide, and Manuela was making another dig at the teenager as the muscular woman bitched, and Jon abruptly wanted them all to shut up.

“You’re being too loud,” Jon said.

The entire room shut up immediately. The teenager opened her mouth, but the pale woman caught her eye and shook her head.

Annabelle clapped her hands in the silence. “Onto the second motion, then! Infrastructure! Right now we are sorely missing a great deal of essential city infrastructure, and it’s becoming a huge problem. We’re still figuring out what’s mystically maintained, and what’s just being maintained because the humans haven’t figured out how to stop doing it yet, but there’s some work that’s being neglected. The Vast has motioned to reinstate the postal system.”

“Vetoed,” the Lonely woman said.

“You can’t do that,” Annabelle said blankly. “We need to vote.”

“I’d like to make an argument for the motion, dear,” the Vast man said, making Annabelle’s eye twitch. “My argument is this: Amazon Prime is so convenient!”

“We have every Amazon warehouse under our control,” the representative from the Flesh said. He was...very fleshy. “It’d be no issue to go back to production.”

“Jared has a point. The Eye’s been feeding through Amazon for years,” Annabelle said thoughtfully. The mention of the Eye piqued Jon’s attention, but then he finally ran into a Mareep and he stopped paying attention again. “We can tap into the people who are living 1984 and get them back in industry.”

“Can we begin producing again?” the Desolation woman asked, interested. “We have all these people miserable at work, but nothing’s actually being made. If we let a little reality break into the nightmares…”

“Wouldn’t that be dangerous?” the Lonely woman asked sharply. “It’ll make it easier for them to escape.”

“They all escape eventually,” Sarah Baldwin said. “They all break out in days to months. We can afford a little more permeability if we actually get things working again.”

Then conversation was off and running about something that Jon didn’t really care about, so he checked out again. He didn’t know what all of this production and infrastructure stuff meant. Going Postal meant that he had a very good understanding of a mail system, but he didn’t have a personal interest. Who he would send letters to?

Jon quickly downloaded what Amazon was. Oh, that would be useful. Wait, he could get any book delivered to his door? Without having to go out hunting for it? How would this work without the internet - a catalogue?

Everybody seemed invested in getting the internet back up, except for the two hundred year olds. Jared kept saying something about porn, whatever that was. If enough people felt like Annabelle, then maybe they would make it a priority. Jon didn’t know how he felt about that.

He didn’t know how he felt about the fact that it was impossible.

But everybody - or most people - genuinely seemed excited about it. They even seemed to be working together, intent on the same goal.

Sarah Baldwin wanted to know if we have enough people constantly under camera to have footage for television. Maybe we could get cable back up? DVDs were a lost cause, but if we could just start airing the VHS tapes…

Annabelle had a look of hook-ups (literally) in the film industry, maybe they could do something like that?

The Hahns are highly involved in production and distribution, Jared pointed out. There was no need to produce food, but if we wanted to increase access to goods it might be possible.

Why? Why did they care? This world provided them everything they needed.

For some reason, Jon felt a little defensive. What did they need all of these things for, anyway? All of this entertainment - cable and movies and internet. The world had books. What was so wrong with books? There were even old VHS tapes liberated from charity stores if you really wanted to get fancy. The most high-tech electronic Jon had ever found was the DS in his hands and a couple of games, which Salasea had given to him as an exotic artifact. Only Salasea owned these things now: trinkets and curiosities, hallmarks of an antiquated time.

What was the point of these supply lines? People didn’t need to eat or shop or consume. Nightmares provided the facsimile, and since they got a little crazy if they never ate they were provided the security of food. Buying towels and shoes and toys...it was a waste of time. People had towels. Nobody outgrew their shoes or wore them out. Children’s toys didn’t break, and anything that made happiness a little easier to come by was discouraged.

Nothing was ever subtracted. Nothing was added. The world was frozen, captured in the amber of time, and it would never move backwards and forwards.

They knew this. Didn’t they?

“We have to make this place livable for us,” Annabelle was saying. She spoke oddly intensely, with a fervor that Jon had seen in her a few times before. Annabelle didn’t like to give off the impression that she cared about things, but once you knew her it was hard to miss. “It’s easier than ever to stay powerful and feed our Forces, but that doesn’t mean we can grow complacent. We have to work together to eat sustainably. To live sustainably. If we don’t try to rebuild, at least enough to get the world moving again, then we’re sentencing ourselves to a boring and decrepit eternity in a world we will all see die within our immortal lifetimes.”

Everyone at the table was nodding. They looked determined. United. Almost...they held an expression that Jon just couldn’t name. An emotion he didn’t understand.

He had seen it in Daisy, once. She had called it hope. He hadn’t understood back then. He still didn’t.

“Liar,” Jon said, as his minigame timed out and the game over music tinkled across the tinny speakers.

Annabelle looked at him, expression inscrutable. “These problems are legitimate, Archivist. The writing’s clearly on the wall, and -”

“You’re all so stupid,” Jon complained, and Annabelle abruptly stopped talking to glare at him. Whatever. Jon had lost all patience. He closed his DS and dropped it on the table, resigning himself to talking. Jon hated public speaking, especially in front of so many people he didn’t know and, frankly, creeped him out. “You can’t build anything in this world. If you try to impose a cute little government then it’ll break down into cannibalism or something.”

“Would you know, Archivist?” Jared asked evenly.

“Jonah didn’t enact this world through myself for living,” Jon said, bored, and everybody stared at him with wide eyes. “We created it for suffering. Suffering isn’t living.”

“One might say the opposite,” the Vast man said, somehow twinkingly. “Suffering is an unavoidable side effect of living, isn’t it?”

“Is that philosophy? I don’t understand philosophy.” Jon wasn’t very good with anything that required extensive and complex thought. Which made sense - Jonah hadn’t exactly created him to think. “Humanity has clouded your minds. Makes all of you irrational and sentimental. Release your attachment to the old world. Just accept the way things are now.” Jon shrugged. “It’s not as if you can do anything about it.”

“Nobody in this room is exactly human, Jon,” Oliver pointed out placidly.

Jon snorted. “Wanting free porn back? You’re all dripping with it.” It was honestly a little sad. “The only ones in this world free of that weakness are Jonah and I. And he’s the only one who could do any of this.”

“Then where is he?” the Desolation woman snapped. She leaned forward, hands gripping the table in anger. The teenager watched her anxiously. “Why doesn’t he come on down from his high tower and explain what’s going on? We’re in the fucking dark here!”

“I’m sorry,” Jon said coldly, “who are you?”

He rubbed his bad hand. For some reason, everybody watched him do so. He stopped, self-conscious.

“Prejudiced remarks aside,” Manuela said. She had been hostile all day, but she now spoke cautiously. “Jonah Magnus needs to take responsibility for this. We don’t even know how the world ended.”

Several people glanced at Annabelle, whose lips thinned. “I shouldn’t say.”

Of course she knew. And of course she wasn’t about to tell him. Whatever. Jon didn’t care. Past was the past.

He found his hand clenching. There was a strange tension in his throat. He didn’t care. He didn’t. Rehashing the worst pain he had ever felt in his life, even now, wasn’t really worth the time or energy. He didn’t care.

“No use crying over spilled milk,” the Vast guy said lightly. “But it is a relevant question. Jonah frequently spoke of his plans, and I realize now that he had never truly shown all of his cards. But he had always held an intention to...well, rule. It’s only in this moment of his victory that he shows no interest.”

“Jonah’s busy,” Jon snapped. “Trust me, you don’t want that arse around. He never even gives me directions, and I’m his right hand.”

“Or his puppet,” Sarah Baldwin muttered.

It was fair. Probably even true. So why did an intense and burning fury shoot through Jon?

“What gives this child the right to dictate us?” Wakely demanded. Jon’s hands clenched on the table until his knuckles turned white. “What gives Jonah Magnus the right to rule us?”

“He’s not much of a ruler,” Amherst grunted. “My vote’s that we rule this world in a council.”

“Administration is important,” Annabelle said, impossibly terse, “but unless anyone here actually has the means to seize control, then there’s no use voting on it.”

“There’s only one Avatar here who has those means,” Manuela said darkly, crossing her arms and looking straight at Jon. “So why doesn’t he do anything?”

They were feeding on each other. They wouldn’t have said these - these treasonous things by themselves. But when one person spoke up, the next felt empowered, and they felt as if they outnumbered him. Jonah Magnus was hardly there to press him into obedience - why buckle under his oppressive gaze? What could he do?

The stupidest people in this world all gathered in one room. It took a special level of arrogance, pride, and stupidity to assume that one was more powerful than Jonah Magnus.

“I’m not in charge of anything,” Jon said tersely. “I don’t even have a domain. I’m just trying to live my life.”

The Desolation woman snorted. “Typical. You’re rolling over for Jonah.”

Jon’s eyes widened - not in surprise, but in anger.

The teenager seemed a little uncomfortable. “Jude,” she hissed, “I don’t think -”

“Jude,” Jon breathed. “So that’s your name.”

He was standing up. Jon didn’t remember standing up. Everybody was leaning away, their own eyes wide. Some just looked confused, slightly perturbed - Wakely, Amherst. Others looked ready to bolt - Manuela, the old man from the Vast. Jon knew, in a flash of insight that grew hotter and hotter, that he preferred to be called Simon.

“Sit down, Jon,” Annabelle said, as authoritative and no-nonsense as ever. Normally he’d listen to her, respecting that she usually knew what was going on far better than he ever did. But the words barely reached him, drowned out by the rushing in his ears. “Look, we can talk about this rationally, alright?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jude said. She snorted, burning red eyes never leaving Jon’s. “As if I’m scared of this baby prick.”

“Maybe we can move on from Jonah Magnus,” Simon said quickly. “A discussion of airspace rights, perhaps -”

“Jon,” Oliver said, voice creased in worry, “are you okay?”

“This is the all-powerful demigod you all warned me about?” Amherst said. He was dripping with condescension, just like - just like everyone else - “He’s little more than a child.”

“Guys!” the teenager’s voice rang through the room, close to scared. “The walls are melting!”

So they were. It was as if the stone and wood was made of wax, sent guttering by a sputtering candle. Wood and finish were already pooling on the floor, melting the rolling wheel of Jared’s chair and forcing him to jump up from it.

“Jon!” Annabelle said sharply. “Don’t throw a tantr -”

The table cracked sharply. It was warping, twisting in on itself as if it was a wrung towel. Jon realized, too late to care, that his hair was rising. He knew his eyes were spinning, an eternal churning wheel.

“Fuck this, meeting adjourned.” Manuela stood up sharply, pushing her chair back into a melting bubble. The floor was beginning to bubble and warp. “See you all next month.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Simon said quickly, standing up too.

“You have two minutes,” Jon said, voice heavy with static. “Don’t bother me about this shit again.”

The signal was clear enough. Jude rose from her chair, grabbing her teenager’s elbow and pushing her out the door. The others followed in their wake, expressions carefully neutral. It was useless: Jon could taste their fear, their trepidation. Even better: their anger, barely brindled fury, and disgust.

They couldn’t do anything about it, Jon thought giddily. No matter how much they hated or were scared of him, they couldn’t do anything about it. Jon was powerful. Jon couldn’t be hurt. Jon couldn’t -

Jon couldn’t reign this in.

Before he knew it, the conference room was empty. Only two other people remained: Annabelle, expression as inscrutable as ever, and an uncomfortable Oliver. His hands were stuck in the pockets of his pea coat, and he was looking around with disaffected interest - as if he was standing in line at a Starbucks in rush hour instead of in the epicenter of a melting building.

Jon knew. The entire building was dissolving. It was teeming with humans, lost and trapped and defenseless. He didn’t want to kill them. Jon didn’t like hurting people. He heard a voice speak in his head, foreign and familiar. Bring it in, Jon.

But he couldn’t. His hair would fall back around his shoulders, and the static rushing through his ears just wouldn’t abate. It felt like everything was pouring out of him, a relentless faucet that wouldn’t stop churning out thick streams of putrid water.

Jon fisted his hands in his hair, groaning. “Where’s -”

“She’s at your flat,” Annabelle said calmly. “Do you want me to get her?”

No. No, this was too embarrassing. He was an adult, he could handle this. Jon groaned again and sank into his seat, saved from the toxic waste of glass and brick. “No. Focus on getting the humans out of here.”

“What do you care?” Oliver asked, vaguely curious. “You don’t seem that fond of humanity.”

“Just do it!” Jon snapped, instead of admitting that he didn’t know either.

Eventually, the room stopped melting. Jon didn’t even want to think about how difficult it would be to leave the building. He could probably straighten out the hallways just enough to help Annabelle and Oliver get out.

Ugh. This place had sunk straight into Helen’s domain. He could taste it in the air: any future human who wandered in would be stuck in an endless spiral of twisted, melted hallways. Probably flavored with...powerlessness and fear. Feeling very small, as someone very large loomed down on you. Tories.

At least he hadn’t sucked flattened the building into one plane again, robbing it of all spiritual and metaphysical dimensions. Jon had done that to a graveyard once. The place was putrid now. He had accidentally fallen into a grave and panicked and - anyway.

He rested his forehead on the warped and splintered conference table, waiting for his throat to open back up and the rushing in his ears to die down. Finally, after what felt like forever, his hair floated back down and he felt his eyes resume their normal shape.

Awkward silence loomed. Jon sighed. “Sorry.”

“I worked hard to arrange this, you know,” Annabelle said.

“Yeah.”

“I am not happy with you, Jon,” Annabelle said.

“Sorry,” Jon said miserably. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I mean,” Oliver said, after a beat, “that’s kind of terrifying. That you can melt a building on accident. Like, what would happen if you got really pissed at Manchester or something?”

“Goodbye, Manchester,” Annabelle muttered.

Jon lifted his head, glaring blearily at Oliver. “If you think that’s crazy, you should have been there the one time I opened up an extradimensional gate and unleashed nightmare terrors into the world, rendering all of humanity immortal and eternally trapped in endless infernal hellscapes.”

Oliver shrugged, conceding the point.

But Annabelle just looked thoughtful. Probably reworking five billion plans, knowing her. Jon didn’t want to know, because he didn’t care. Let her do whatever she wanted. None of his business. Hopefully, after this disaster, she’d keep it out of his business.

Finally, she asked, “Was that true? That there’s no moving us forward?”

Jon sighed. He really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. But if he didn’t tell her then she’d just bug him about it later, or find some way to get the information out of him that would be both convoluted and unpleasant. “I’m not saying that people can’t...live their lives. They’re obviously still going to work and typing in every digit of pi into their spreadsheets for eight hours and then going home to stare, hypnotized, into cable television. But I am saying that there’s no achieving more than that. There’s no going backwards, and there’s no going forwards. The past is closed to us, and so is the future.” He eyed her warily. “If you have any cute time travel ideas, forget it.”

“I would never,” Annabelle said innocently.

Yeah, sure. Liar. Jon scowled. “You’re all hampered by your humanity.” When Oliver opened his mouth, Jon just shook his head. “Even Avatars are still people. We’re all conduits for eldritch Forces, hollowed out to serve as a live wire for their power, but we - you all remember a human life. You care about things. You have relationships. You love. It makes you weak. Some of you don’t even like your lot in life - some part of you aching for something familiar, when you felt genuine happiness instead of the cheap facsimile induced by causing pain.” Jon looked down at his hands, reflexively picking at one of his many scars. “You should be more like me. You’d be more focused.”

“Are you capable of...changing, Jon?” Oliver asked curiously. “Or will you be this way forever?”

“Most of Annabelle’s plans hinge on that not happening,” Jon said, not even aware it was true until he said it, “so I suppose we’ll find out.”

Of course, Jon knew what Oliver had tactfully not said. He had wanted to know if Jon would ever grow up. They all thought he was a child, even Annabelle. Jon had the feeling even Daisy did, sometimes.

It was stupid and they were wrong. Child would imply adult, would imply birthday parties and learning to talk and learning geography. Jon didn’t have to learn geography. He knew geography. He didn’t age. He was born being able to talk. Jon was above all of these things. He was mature. And even if he wasn’t, who cared?

But Annabelle just smiled at Jon, a polite mask. Annabelle hadn’t made a genuine facial expression in - well, longer than Jon’s memory. Or maybe that was the wrong way to put it. Maybe it was more accurate that she never expressed an emotion that she didn’t mean to. “Well! That wasn’t entirely a disaster, was it? I think next time could go really well. Don’t worry, Jon, I won’t drag you out of bed again.” She propped her hands on her hips. “Now, the three of us are going back to your flat and doing something about your awful rat’s nest.”

Oh, lord. This was going to be terrible. “Do we have to?” Jon whined.

Annabelle smiled again, but this time it was so dangerous that Jon couldn’t help but quail. “My spiders are collecting the avocado oil and coconut oil now. My best friend in secondary had 3C hair too, I think I know what to do. Oliver, bring the buzzer, scissors, and satin wraps.”

“Three cee?” Jon asked, confused. “What’s that?”

Oliver grimaced. “Why am I involved in this?”

“Because I don’t know what to do with a guy’s hair, and you’re probably the only guy I’ve ever met who knows what to do with hair? Keep up.”

“I’m feeling pigeonholed, but fine. But we are not buzzing that hair. It’s a crime against god.” Oliver looked thoughtful for a second. “I think Jon would do a nice, loose afro. I think I still have some hair masks and vinegar rinse -”

“Why is this so complicated?” Jon asked, completely freaked out. “What are these things?”

But Annabelle just smiled sweetly at him, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Jon. I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

Well. It seemed easier than figuring things out for himself. Jon didn’t like responsibility. Today was his first taste of responsibility in ages, and he had already decided that it sucked. Better to let somebody who actually cared take care of it.

That way, he didn’t have to be powerful. Didn’t have to be anybody’s demigod on Earth, capable of murdering whoever he liked. He could just be Jon, Private Detective, Archivist. He could have fun. Just live. Didn’t he deserve that, despite everything?

He stood up too, summoning a shaky smile for Annabelle. “So you aren’t mad about me ruining your meeting, then?”

“Water under the bridge,” Annabelle said. “Now come on, we have to stop by the chemist’s and pick up a decent hairbrush.”

Hairbrush? What was that for?

****

Six months after time resumed its course

Jon opened his mailbox, only to find mail.

Suspicion immediately loomed. Jon didn’t get mail. Not due to any kind of impossibility, but just because he didn’t pay bills and none of the mimic junk mail was brave enough to try their luck with him. Maybe invoices, sometimes, but mostly those were dropped off in person. The invoices were scarier than the finger-biting mimics: he still didn’t quite know how they worked. Sasha kept insisting they were important, but Sasha also insisted face masks were important. She didn’t know everything. That was Jon’s job.

He grabbed the singular envelope anyway, elbowing his door back open as he inspected the envelope. Thick, rich, and creamy, it reminded Jon uncomfortably of Annabelle’s party invite from a while ago. In the front, he saw that it was addressed to...Agnes?

The living room was noisy and busy, entirely due to the recipient of the letter and her brother. They were playing Mario Kart on the Wii, and apparently disowning each other. Jon watched Agnes hit Gerry with a blue shell, slightly bemused, and saw Dry Bones spin out into the center and make a pitiful noise. Baby Peach loomed supreme.

Jon almost felt bad interrupting. An opened bag of chips scattered dust around Gerry, and Agnes had a half-empty pack of uncooked hot dogs next to her. They had both been at this for a while. “Agnes, you got a letter. And try to keep it down, Sasha’s working and Daisy’s sleeping.”

Agnes turned around, half a hot dog hanging out of her mouth like a cigar. She swallowed it quickly, holding out one hand and letting Jon give her the letter. She frowned down at the front, ignoring the way Gerry craned his head to take a look, and when she checked the back she frowned deeper. There was a wax seal, its details out of sight to Jon.

“Is it that time already?” Agnes muttered, putting her controller down and letting the parade lap on the screen continue.

Gerry frowned too as Agnes carefully broke the seal. “Is that from…?”

“Yeah. Weird, though. Guess it’s about time for the follow-up to the emergency meeting.” She pulled a letter out of the envelope, embossed on creamy paper. She scanned it quickly. “Downing street this time…”

“Are you going to go?”

“Well, it’s not as if Jude can,” Agnes said diplomatically, refolding the paper.

Jon cleared his throat, making the kids jump. They had half-forgotten he was there. Far too late, Agnes hid the invite behind her back. “Care to explain?”

“Oh, you know,” Agnes said vaguely, casually tossing the invite behind her shoulder and letting Gerry snatch it out of midair. “It’s the invite to the Avatar council meetings. I think they’re held once every three months, but since months are a theoretical concept it’s occasionally hard to tell..”

“Not these days,” Gerry said excitedly. “It’s cold! The leaves fell!”

“The leaf thing is dope,” Agnes agreed. “Anyway, I should go. I have, like, serious words. I already submitted ten motions. I want to run for Treasurer, but Jared keeps saying that anybody who isn’t old enough to open her own bank account shouldn’t be treasurer.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Jon asked blankly. Was this some kind of youth league? Baseball? Was this baseball?

Abruptly, Agnes looked very sketchy. “I...it’s really nothing you’d be interested in.”

“I am interested in everything,” Jon said. He was offended beyond all belief. “Don’t keep secrets!”

“Jon’s not a big fan of secrets,” Gerry stage-whispered. “Did Annabelle say that we shouldn’t tell him or did she just say not to bother him about it?”

Agnes abruptly started sweating wax. “I can’t remember.”

“Now you have to tell me,” Jon said flatly.

They gave up very quickly. Teenagers loved hiding things, but they also loved drama and spilling secrets. “It’s the Avatar council meeting thing,” Gerry said eagerly. “You know, where you guys all get together and re-enact the British empire by making government decisions and imposing made-up laws on the people you’ve conquered and are currently subjugating under your big stompy boots?”

“I’m changing the system from the inside,” Agnes said proudly.

Gerry shot her an unimpressed look. “Okay. Yeah. Sure. Because that’s a thing that makes sense in an inherently corrupt system with an inherently unethical existence that exists to be profitable at the expense of the marginalized.”

“I don’t understand anything children these days even talk about,” Jon said.

“I’m surprised you don’t remember it,” Agnes said to Jon. But she had a strange expression on her face, one hard to decipher. “It’s where we met.”

Jon stared at her blankly. “I don’t remember talking to you.”

“I was sitting next to Jude?” Agnes hinted. “Teenager? Red hair?”

Wait. Jon snapped his fingers. “Annabelle’s idiot thing! Right! Right, of course, Oliver made me sit still for five hours afterwards, it was insufferable.”

Wait. Jon abruptly remembered the rest of that day. It seemed like so long ago, even though it was probably objectively only about three years. It must have been about...yes, a few months after Daisy had gotten stuck...

He barely remembered those tepid and awful months. He had been on a bit of a hair trigger back then. It had been really tough, with Daisy leaving and his terrifying encounter with Jonah. He remembered everybody had been annoying and mean and made him feel bad…

“First time I ever remember feeling fear, honestly,” Agnes said to Gerry. “Scariest moment of my life. Remember when we first met Jon? All I could think about was that he was going to melt us like he melted that building.”

Hot shame flared in Jon’s gut. Right. Other people were real, and existed, and were probably more important than his...what had he even been upset about? He didn’t remember.

He melted a building and he didn’t even remember why.

“I’m going too,” Jon said, and both kids startled. “I’m coming with you.”

Agnes and Gerry stared at each other with wide eyes.

“Uh,” Agnes said finally, hesitant, “there’s about a 50/50 chance Annabelle said not to tell you about this, and you definitely didn’t get an invite, so statistically you probably aren’t -”

“She can’t exactly stop me from coming,” Jon said, and both kids quieted.

Power-tripping had lost all appeal for Jon - assuming role as a conduit for global and absolute power did that to you - but he couldn’t deny it was useful sometimes. The world probably could have stood a little more power-tripping from him, actually. At least, it would have been helpful if he had ever done anything helpful with it. But he had never really bothered.

But Agnes still looked perturbed, almost worried. “Annabelle’s like one of two people you used to ever listen to, so if you don’t really care what she thinks anymore -”

“I think Annnabelle knows better than to complain these days,” Jon said.

It probably was for the best that Jon didn’t listen much to Annabelle anymore.

****

Jon hadn’t really told the others about Annabelle’s worse-than-murder attempt.

It didn’t really seem like any of their business, and he had spinned a vague explanation of how the situation happened. He didn’t lie, just - withheld information.

For the first time, the truth didn’t seem so important. He had the feeling it would have just upset them. It wasn’t as if he would take revenge against Annabelle. The world needed her, and Jon was a little tired of murdering everyone who upset him. The others (Daisy) would insist on the little murder attempts if they knew, but that was probably part of why he didn’t tell them. If they never knew about the one unselfish thing he had done in his life - well, one unselfish thing didn’t make up for three years of selfishness, so there was very little point.

Martin suspected. Actually, Martin seemed to know, which terrified Jon slightly. It was impossible to get anything past Martin. Jon was deeply intimidated by the man. Sasha laughed very long and hard when he told her that, for unknown reasons.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he felt betrayed. Even if the last time he had attended one of Annabelle’s little council meetings he still trusted her, that had faded quickly in favor of complete apathy. Even then, as young as he was, he had never expected the truth from her. Just friendship. Whatever she was doing, it probably wouldn’t affect him, so there was no use in worrying. Even if Annabelle slightly terrorized every other person in the United Kingdom - well, Jon was fine, so what did it matter.

Jon couldn’t decide if he was stupid or naive. Or, even worse - if he was just lazy.

Jon didn’t listen to Annabelle anymore.

Unfortunately, he still listened to Sasha James.

Two weeks later, the date of the actual meeting, Jon was stuck explaining himself to his entire house, who doubted all of his decisions. Which was just unfair. Jon made good decisions! He had made tons of good decisions, like -

Anyway!

“I think it’s a great idea,” Sasha said, freaking out Jon. “Displaying interest in your local government’s fantastic! Did you do any research on the relevant issues?”

Jon, in the middle of pulling on his trenchcoat, started sweating. “I was just planning on showing up.”

Agnes, who was wearing a gauzy skirt and blouse as Daisy helped a whining Gerry with his court buttons, gave Sasha the thumbs up. “I’m going to propose motions and Jon’s going to say ‘yeah what she said’ and it’ll be great.”

Jon let Agnes believe that.

“Well, you’ll have to share Jon’s political weight,” Sasha said cheerfully. She was in sweatpants and one of Jon’s pilfered t-shirts again. She had recently designated herself a writer, and had joined some sort of recent artist and activist collective where they did mysterious things that Jon didn’t understand. There’s a zine involved? Jon didn’t know what a zine was and he was scared to ask.

Georgie and Melanie had spent a week teaching Jon in laborious detail what exactly the internet was - information Jon could have just downloaded, but they had been intent in their mission of creating ‘the perfect internet’ and had gone through great effort in teaching him what the ‘good’ internet was (Ravelry, Spotify, r/HobbyDrama, YouTubers but only a very specific list) and what the ‘bad’ internet was (social media, the rest of Reddit, every other YouTuber). Jon wasn’t sure if the new internet was to their specifications, and he hadn’t quite been able to avoid parts of it spiralling into nightmare dimensions and hellish breeding grounds for violence and trauma, but Melanie assured him that Twitter had always been like that.

Jon also secretly added a nightmare filter to Melanie’s screen reader, after he made sure every inch of it was accessible, after he roughly recreated screen readers. Melanie said that the voice sounded uncannily like the aunt she had hated, but that it was no big deal.

Anyway, Sasha was a blogger now. After a few meltdowns to Sasha’s computer he had to install a nightmare filter for her too, which made her complain about feeling like an old woman whose grandson had to install AdBlock on her browser. Jon was a little scared of the whole blogging thing, but everybody seemed much happier, so maybe that was the important thing.

“Wait,” Jon said, finally recognizing what Sasha said. “Share with who?”

There was a knock on the door. Jon felt intense fear.

“She’s here!” Sasha said cheerfully. “Come in!”

Jon watched in horror as Basira Hussain casually strode into her house. He knew he couldn’t stop her. She had a key to the place, because Jon had no control of his life.

“Hey honey,” Basira said, intimately.

“Hey honey,” Daisy said lovingly, releasing Gerry from her clutches.

They stared at each other, as if this was any kind of greeting whatsoever, before ignoring each other. Jon did not understand so many things.

Basira, terrifyingly, was dressed like she was about to go defend her client in court. She had a briefcase, and Jon recognized her most important looking crimson hijab. Very abruptly, Jon had a flashback to the way Annabelle had dressed when she had picked him up in his old office. They even had the same expression: determined and resolute, in a way that Jon could never understand.

Basira nodded at Jon. “Hey. Sasha invited me to this thing. She told you I was coming, right.”

“She did not.”

“Whatever. Are we going to get going? We’re going to be late.”

Jon looked at Sasha pleadingly. Cold and resolute stone, Sasha showed no mercy. She smiled brightly, giving Agnes a final hug and pushing her forward. “You kids have a great time! Terrorize the bourgeoisie!”

“I am the bourgeoisie,” Jon said blankly, but the situation had already spiraled out of his control. Agnes and Basira were already comparing lists of notes, seriously discussing the motions Agnes had raised and how she was going to help Basira.

That was it – how Agnes could help Basira. How Agnes, and the role she had in the council hall, could help Basira and the people Jon knew that she intended on representing today.

They hadn’t even looped him in. Had they assumed that he wouldn’t care? That he wouldn’t help? Agnes hadn’t even wanted him there. Only Sasha -

He felt a cool, small hand grab his arm, and he turned around to see Daisy. Gerry was already enthusiastically capturing Sasha about the concert he and Agnes were going to later, and Jon knew that they weren’t listening. Daisy’s expression was somber, her body tense. Daisy wasn’t one for facial expressions at the best of times – not even a new development – but something about this…

“I should go with you,” Daisy said.

“I already told you no,” Jon said, miffed. “I can handle this by myself.”

“I shouldn’t have let you go by yourself last time,” Daisy said. Jon could admit that things probably wouldn’t have spiraled out of control if she had been there, but that didn’t mean – “Don’t terrify yourself just because you feel guilty.”

Daisy hadn’t aged any more than the rest of the world had. As an Avatar, she likely never would. She even looked young for her mid-forties, with her short stature and broad, unlined face. Sasha had assured him that she was ‘Kristen Bell-ish’, whatever that meant. But she always seemed so old to him: larger than life and not even reaching his shoulders. Wise and world-weary even when, as Jon was beginning to see, she didn’t know what she was doing any more than the rest of them did.

It scared Jon, almost: if Daisy wasn’t the person who could swoop in and make it all better, then who could?

If Jonah wasn’t the omnipresent god, then who was the most powerful person in the world?

Jon shook her off, fighting the pull in his gut. “I’m not scared of them anymore.”

She didn’t look impressed. “You’re always scared.”

“Look at the time, going to be late, gotta go!”

He still couldn’t win an argument against her.

They took a taxi there, as Jon had cheerfully informed them that the Tube was delayed due to infernal leaves on the line (Work-from-home was the hot new thing these days). Basira was clearly on edge, tense and constantly keeping an eye on the taxi driver (a friendly skeleton) and the street. Agnes wasn’t any more relaxed, reading her notes over and over.

Jon leaned back in his plush seat, closing his eyes. What would Martin say? He would probably be cuttingly pointing out how Jon was in denial over how he really was secretly afraid of the Avatars and now it was even more dangerous because he was much more willing to power-trip.

Forget about what Jon wanted. Forget about his fear, his insecurities, and every rationale he had constructed for himself as to why Jon deserved a life free of these worries.

Jon was above politics. The Avatar with no need to defend their territory, who held no fear of death or failure, had no need. Jon could not lose the affection of his patron. His domain was the world, and it could not be attacked no matter how hard he tried. Jon was not a politician, so of course that meant he could not be manipulated by politicians -

“What’s your plan,” Jon asked, without opening his eyes.

They told him. Basira was clinical; Agnes excited. Jon didn’t say anything about it, and let the conversation die down until the taxi was rolling in front of 10 Downing Street. Didn’t the prime minister live here? Boris...something? Jon quickly downloaded the information, before he found that Boris Johnson had been the world’s most convoluted psy-op by Annabelle and had never exactly existed. Thank goodness.

Right as the taxi idled in front of the building, Jon opened his eyes. He let them flare up, an intimidating spark of toxic green. “You two follow my lead.”

“Excuse me,” Basira said flatly, as Jon waved at the driver in lieu of payment. He hadn’t found out that you were supposed to pay taxi drivers until...a few months ago. In his defense, they never asked. “This is our operation.”

Jon glanced at her, and something relaxed around the corners of her eyes. He wondered if his expression was familiar to her. He couldn’t help but smile weakly, and that softened her expression even more. “Will you trust me?”

Basira stared at him for one long beat, then two, before grimacing. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Do I usually make you regret it?”

“Literally, every single time,” Basira said.

“Then it’s a pretty stupid decision to trust me again,” Jon pointed out. “You don’t seem the type to make stupid decisions.”

Basira stared at him for a long moment, before leaving the car.

Jon and Agnes silently watched her leave, before glancing at each other.

“And I thought you ran from your feelings,” Agnes said finally, before following her.

Jon, left with nothing else to do, followed Agnes.

10 Downing Street, Jon quickly found, was just like every other pretentious old British home. With lots of grandiose rooms with furniture shoved into corners so everybody could appreciate the gold-plated tile, or sitting rooms with the most uncomfortable places to sit Jon had ever seen. Each wall hosted gigantic portraits of famous British figures, who were all so ugly that Agnes incinerated one for fun. Jon respected her choices: he had been wearing a stupid wig.

Jon, unfortunately instinctively aware of the layout and history of this sordid place, led them through the halls. He opened his mouth, instinctively about to funnel a Statement regarding the decades of human suffering and imperialism, before forcing his mouth closed. Basira wouldn’t appreciate it. Besides, the Statements had been easier to ignore lately - like curious dogs nosing at his hands rather than insistent children demanding to be fed.

Instead, he settled on casually updating them on the choice of location. “A year ago, this location wouldn’t have been safe for Basira at all. This building was a nightmare pit of despair.” He led them up the ridiculous flights of stairs watching carefully as Agnes jumped up them. Trick steps, you know. Basira proceeded far more cautiously. “It’s...no less a nightmare pit, but like the rest of London it’s now safe to navigate. I’d keep clear of the residential rooms, however. The Prime Minister and his family haven’t escaped their nightmares since the apocalypse, and they never will.”

Basira’s eyebrows skyrocketed up. “David Cameron’s stuck in hell? No surprise there. What’s he having a nightmare about?”

“Well, there’s this pig, right, and you’ll never guess what he’s doing -”

“Never mind,” Basira said quickly. “Not interested.”

“I’m interested,” Agnes said.

“I’d rather you weren’t.”

Jon, who also wished he didn’t know this information, quickly directed them towards the conference room.

But he found himself stopping in front of the intricately carved oak double doors. The wrought golden handles were grimy and dull with dust, but Agnes and Basira did not hesitate to open the door and walk in. They didn’t hesitate; they weren’t frightened. Or, if they were, they didn’t let it stop them.

But Jon stopped. He felt like Annabelle, in that moment. Annabelle, standing in front of that conference room door so long ago, unable to admit that she felt any fear at all.

She had been desperate. Jon saw that now. Only a desperate person would have ever concocted that plan against Jon. He was the sole person capable of murder in this world, and the sole person who was so vindictive and petty that he would kill anybody who said something that he didn’t like.

Annabelle was arrogant. She thought herself the most intelligent person in every room. She was petty, manipulative, and power-hungry. She thought that the world was so broken that somebody had to fix it, and that she was the only one who could. She was desperate.

Jon didn’t particularly want to do this. But Jon really, really had to grow up.

Jon opened the door.

It was a far cry from the nice, professional conference room in City Hall. The floor was some ugly light brown hardwood color, and the walls were tudor-like and panelled. Old man ribboned curtains, an intricate rug woven from human rights abuses, and a claw-foot long conference table with an array of chairs made up an incredibly ‘antique’ room. The British found ‘antique’ and ‘wealth signalling’ to be the same thing. It made for some very ugly buildings and very uncomfortable chairs.

Nobody else had entered yet. Jon checked the time with his extradimensional psychic powers and realized that Sasha had hustled them out the door fifteen minutes earlier than necessary. She was so intelligent.

Agnes was already moving to her uncomfortable seat, and Jon tapped Basira on the arm and silently pointed to the seat with the ‘EXTINCTION’ placard. She raised an eyebrow at him, but followed his direction. Maybe that was what her trust looked like.

There was a placard stamped ‘BEHOLDING’ in big letters. Gone unoccupied since the last time Jon had been here.

He ignored it, and sat down at the head of the table. Likely where Annabelle usually sat, as director of the meetings. Historically, where the leader of Britain had once sat and directed the affairs of the country.

Jon kicked up his heels on the polished antique wood, pulling up an episode of The Twilight Zone in his brain. He identified with Rod Serling.

The other Avatars filtered in, one by one. All of their eyes widened when they saw Jon, but none of them said anything. Jon wondered what had filtered through the Avatar grapevine. They always knew all of the gossip on each other. It was impossible to miss the Earth’s paradigm shift, and Agnes mentioned that they had convened an emergency meeting on it. Doubtlessly, his name had come up. They likely knew he was the instigator. Who else could?

Annabelle was the fourth in, as fashionably on time as usual. She was the only one who stopped in her tracks when she saw Jon. A surprise, to a woman unused to surprises. Jon’s house didn’t have insect problems.

Her eyes widened. Her jaw clenched. That was all it took. And Jon Knew, in the way that he Knew things, that she was wondering if this was when he finally killed her.

She didn’t know why she was still alive. It was stressing her out. It was a move that made no sense - an unforeseen reaction. Jon was predictable. When Jon wasn’t predictable, and when Jon’s actions weren’t being very precisely controlled, then she was left with a vindictive and irreverent steam train on her hands. She hadn’t predicted his presence here.

Jon was also sitting in her chair. Scuffing the wood. Leaning back in the chair, and definitely scuffing the floor too.

He pointed to the chair at his right, with a placard that now read ‘WEB’. Annabelle sat down in it. Everybody noticed.

Everybody also noticed Basira. She was receiving some glares, or some pointedly unwelcome expressions. But Basira’s glares and unwelcome expressions were more powerful than any demon could ever offer, and one by one each Avatar looked away in shame.

Only Oliver actually talked to him. Which made sense, as Oliver feared neither life nor death. When he walked in he was just as surprised to see Jon as everyone else, but he offered Jon a smile too. Jon smiled back, which made several of the other Avatars lean back.

“Hey, Archivist. I thought you hated these things.”

“I do!” Jon said cheerfully. “I wasn’t even invited.”

Annabelle busied herself with her notes and agenda.

As usual, Helen didn’t show up. Jon waited patiently for everybody to filter in. Sarah Baldwin didn’t show up either, and Jon searched for the information before realizing that he really didn’t want to know. He saw some other new faces, as well as some faintly familiar ones. It wasn’t that strange: no position of absolute power was forever. Where was that bloke Wakely?

Wait. He was the Avatar who had talked for too long about burying people alive at a party in a ridiculous skyscraper. He had upset Daisy. Jon had seen red and lost his temper. Jon had...tossed him over the side of the roof. Let him keep falling. Left him to waste away. He was probably gone now.

The entire room had been at that party. Whoops.

Now uncomfortably reminded that Jon had murdered two people at this table, that everybody was aware of that, and that Jon had completely forgotten about one of the semi-accidental murders because, in Sasha’s words, he was “a bit of a psychopath, what the hell”.

This distressed her, because apparently Jonathan Sims had always been a “sensitive boy” with a “tender heart”. Daisy had said that he was still a sensitive boy, just prone to power-tripping. Sasha said that this was also very consistent behavior. Martin said -

Martin said that Jonathan Sims had been a good person. And, more importantly, that Jonathan Sims had wanted to be a good person. That was one thing that Jon didn’t want to change.

Who just buried people alive -

Jon waited until everyone was settled down. Nobody was chatting or talking to each other: just sitting silently, avoiding eye contact.

He could see Annabelle preparing herself to say something. Better get this ball rolling, then.

“Jonah Magnus is dead.”

The silence suddenly became oppressive.

Jon didn’t stop to savor the looks on their faces. That wasn’t the point. Enjoying this wasn’t the point. Jon had all the power he wanted and - and he didn’t want it at all. He hoped that nobody here would make him have to prove it.

Jon did not want to melt anyone. He wasn’t going to melt anyone. Life had started feeling a little valuable lately. These people, the soulless demons surrounding him, weren’t any different than he was. Humans with delusions of grandeur. Infighting and power plays weren’t going to fix it.

But Annabelle had been right, as she always was. Jon couldn’t keep ignoring this. If he could do something, he had to. Even if it was something he didn’t like doing.

Or something he hated that he enjoyed doing.

“Jonah Magnus is dead,” Jon repeated pleasantly. “The world has changed. These two events are related, of course.”

He didn’t elaborate. Jon didn’t lie, but he didn’t have to say everything.

“The chains which bind this Earth have loosened,” Jon continued. He folded his hands over his stomach, relaxed and casual. “We now exist in the third age of life. I ask that you do not resist.

“The seasons have begun to change, our eternal placid summer ripening into fall and sinking into winter. Our world turns yet again. Babies are born, grow old, and die. The apocalypse as we’ve always known was rooted in its stagnancy. Life and growth has bloomed, and will continue to subsist. Change is once again thriving, and we must adapt with it.

“You’ve noticed that your power has weakened. You will have to fight harder than ever to maintain your food supplies. What was once a conquest is now a battleground. The playing field is far from even, but the enemy and harvest now have a fighting chance.” Jon smiled brightly. “Of course, I’m sure that this was all discussed during your emergency meeting. Great job with your repeated warfare attempts against humanity during the last six months, by the way. How’s that working out for us?”

Silence loomed. Of course, their repeated attempts to quash the new human uprising had not gone very well. At the end of the day, for every one Avatar there were thousands of humans.

“You are no longer strong enough to allow these divides into factions,” Jon continued. “We must present a united front if we’re going to maintain the ground we have. We can’t continue on the way we have. And I’ve realized…” Jon glanced at Annabelle, catching her eye. “I’ve realized that I haven’t been helping the situation. There’s more I can do. That’s why Annabelle has handed over moderation of these meetings to me.”

Nobody looked impressed.

He could see it: the way Jon had become an unpredictable, dangerous nuisance towards them. Almost everyone in this room would be much happier if Jon dropped dead. Nobody had really liked him because nobody had ever felt safe around him. Only Annabelle and Oliver - the person who had nothing to fear from him and the other person who did not feel fear - called themselves his friends.

But they would have preferred it if Jon was hostile or dangerous. If he had even admitted his power. But Jon play-acted at harmlessness, unwilling and afraid to make enemies, and in that way he became a nuisance rather than an enemy. He couldn’t even pretend that it wasn’t on purpose. No matter how many Avatars brushed him off or ignored him, it was better than feeling their eyes on him. Or feeling the fear rich on their tongues.

“Also I invited a human to work with us on human affairs,” Jon said cheerfully. “Diversity hire! Any questions?”

There were a lot of questions. Basira didn’t look very pleased at his remark, either.

Simon leaned forward first, pale and watery eyes intent for the first time. “What happened to Jonah Magnus?”

“Natural causes,” Jon said cheerfully. “Next?”

“What does this mean for us?” the Lukas matriarch said. Her eyes skittered away from him. “Are we in danger?”

Jon shrugged. “Only if you’re incompetent at feeding.”

“What caused this?” Manuela demanded. “The children are running wild, we can’t control them. We’ve lost a major food source.”

Jon scratched his temples. “What caused it...sustainability efforts.” He sobered abruptly. “You could never control the children, anyway. This is the generation of the apocalypse. You’ll find that very little frightens them now.”

“Does this have to do with those humans you’ve been running around with?” Jared asked, scratching his chin as Manuela’s expression contorted in rage.

As usual, a frighteningly insightful observation from such a brute. “It is actually directly their fault!”

Everybody turned to look at Basira, who was completely unapologetic. She crossed her arms. “Don’t ask me. First I’m hearing about this too.”

“Did you kill Jonah Magnus?” Oliver asked, morbidly fascinated. “How?”

“We humans didn’t kill him. We showed up at the Panopticon to kill him, only to find Jon there and Jonah Magnus already dead.” Basira scowled as Jon and Annabelle glanced at each other. Jon subtly shook his head. Annabelle’s lips thinned. “It looked like he’d been dead for years.”

An unfamiliar young man with a thick mop of clumped black hair peered at Jon, expression contorted in grotesque interest. He was one of the Avatars who had been born in the Apocalypse, who were all recognizably weird. His name was - right, Geoff Anjou. Some French man who had made his mark in the Parisian Underground before moving to London and conquering his next terrain. A Parisian to the bone - or, a great deal of bones, as the case may be. So many bones. Jon had always meant to take Daisy to that wonderful little nightmare and let her run loose. Chase people through the tunnels. Munch bones. Perfect vacation.

“So did the Archivist kill him?” Geoff asked, in the same way you would ask who won the World Cup. “Steal his Watcher’s Crown or whatever?”

“Are you the new queen bee?” a young woman asked Jon. The new Slaughter Avatar, Henrietta Something-or-another. A Cambridge legacy college student, Annabelle had intoned, and Jon had been afraid to inquire further. She was cyberbullying someone on her mobile, which seemed to be bleeding. “Cuz, like, you don’t seem qualified.”

“I did not kill Jonah Magnus,” Jon said, for the five hundreth time in the last six months. “And I’m uninterested in filling his shoes. That’s enough questions, I think.”

“Are you as weakened as the rest of us?” Amherst demanded. “Surely this destruction has affected you worst of all.”

“He probably ate Jonah Magnus,” Henrietta said. “The Archivist’s probably god now.”

Geoff snorted. “No way. He brought a human as back-up.”

“Why is there a human?” Another woman asked, with long brown hair and a broad face. Something about her was unquestionably severe, from her bulging muscles to her incredible height. Jon had never seen her before in his life. Her name was Julia Montauk. Something about her stank of life and undeath, same as Amherst. “We can’t exactly work with the prey, here.”

“I’m proposing an emergency motion,” Amherst said suddenly, shutting up the rapidly overlapping voices. “I vote that a leader is elected democratically. And that representatives are limited towards loyal patrons of the Forces.”

“I second that motion,” Geoff said immediately. “We can’t afford a chaotic uprising in our government right now -”

“This really isn’t a vote,” Jon said.

“Isn’t this a democracy?” Henrietta asked, with the self-righteous assurance of a twenty year old. “We vote on things in a democracy. And leaders.”

“Annabelle was voted in last spring,” Julia agreed. “No reason to change things.”

Well. Basira said that she trusted him. He’d have to rely on that.

Jon pressed down.

It felt just like that: pressing down. Reaching out a hand and squashing. Sometimes it was like ripping someone into shreds, and other times it was like plunging your hand into their chest and ripping out their heart. But this was just a press: a heavy static, bearing down over your shoulders like a ten ton weight. A sight so horrible that it was too eldritch to even look at. The realization that the hideous sight was you, and that it was all you would ever be.

Some - Geoff, Amherst - gasped, as if they were choking. Others - Lukas, Henrietta - gasped at their hearts, as if they were having heart attacks. Jon carefully kept it off Oliver, Annabelle, Basira, and Agnes. He couldn’t help but remember what she had said a few weeks ago, about being so frightened -

But Basira winced anyway, clutching her temples, and Jon carefully released the static until the inhabitants of the room could breathe again. His eyes did not stop glowing, and Jon didn’t bother to turn off the light show.

Jon put his feet down on the floor and rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward. As everyone shuddered and gasped, he spoke slowly and pointedly. “This is not a democracy. It never was. It is a monarchy, and the line of succession is clear.”

Annabelle’s eyes widened, and she abruptly clenched her fists before loosening them. An uncharacteristic show of emotion from her.

“This coalition has never been a democracy,” Jon said severely. “This is a house of lords. You are uninterested in representing any needs but your own, and I know Jared failed level eight government, but I’m sure all of you know that democracy represents elected officials. Nobody here has ever lived in a true democracy, and in your human fallibility you have recreated the only system you have ever known. The seats at this table are determined by power - all of you, the most powerful conduits for your Entity. I am the inevitable consequence of this system. I am your natural disaster. All of you bought me. Now you have me. And you are no longer powerful enough to make me leave.”

Agnes’ hand was covering her mouth. Jon dearly hoped Basira was holding onto that trust. He dearly hoped that he wasn’t speaking from anger.

But he couldn’t stop. It boiled and bubbled. It was an anger and a powerlessness that had subjugated him for thirty two years of his life. It had served as the cloud hanging over his head for three more.

“If you want someone to blame for the Archivist who now moderates this meeting,” Jon said, his voice the thin lid over this boiling pot of hurt and anger, “I now know their names. Jonah Magnus. Jude Perry. Nikola Orsinov. Twice. Breekon and Hope’s coffin. Peter Lukas. Jane Prentiss. Maxwell Raynor. A strategic book.” Jon tilted his head, having effectively made his point. There were others, but he had forgiven Daisy and Melanie a long time ago. And Jared had been polite about it. “Bring up your complaints with them. Good luck with that.”

Jon clapped his hands, closing the lid on those memories. Maybe one day the pain would leech from them like a sun-bleached painting, but that day hadn’t come yet. “Now! If you have any further complaints about my position here, or if you want to continue debating political theory, feel free to stand up and tell me so. We’re all interested in you regurgitating your life story until you die. Anyone?” Crickets. Jon leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable. “Can we go onto the motions now? Ms. Hussain first, then clockwise from her.”

As if they had planned this, with the air of a well-choreographed actress, Basira stood up and spread out her papers in front of her. “The human contingency requests neutral zones in essential areas. Maternal wards in hospitals are highly vulnerable locations, and when assaulted by parasites the mortality rate of children is very high. If you want a self-replenishing food source, you have to allocate space for safe living. The next essential zone is a daycare and a school for children -”

And she was off. Jon had nothing to say, nor was anything necessary. Raging debate sparked after she finished speaking, and Basira effectively crushed the opposition. Agnes spoke up in her defense, and to Jon’s surprise even Manuela contributed a solid understanding of the necessity of children. When the debate started spiraling in an unhelpful direction Jon cut in and shut it down, before forcing the vote.

It did not pass, obviously.

“By the way,” Jon said. “Ms. Hussain proposed five different motions today. At least two of them have to pass. This debate is about picking which two you want.”

Then that started up all over again, and Jon tried not to fall asleep.

Moderating was hard. He actually had to pay attention and focus, and he hated focusing. He was effective enough at shutting down conversations, but sometimes shutting down conversations wasn’t helpful - he just needed to steer them in a more productive conversation. And Agnes’ political theory and Basira’s almost-definitely-made-up statistics started flying so thick and fast above his head that Jon was starting to almost completely lose the plot.

Jon chose his moment as the Lukas woman was complaining extensively about how Henrietta’s digital bullying was intruding upon the Loneliness of her adherents. Henrietta had argued that social media made people more lonely. Jon was afraid that Henrietta was his fault. Maybe the Eye’s fault, holistically. Jared wanted to be friends with Henrietta and co-host Instagram events, which Jon enthusiastically supported despite Basira’s glares.

He leaned over to his right, gesturing slightly at Annabelle so she would lean in closer. She raised an eyebrow at him. Annabelle’s eyebrows were crushing.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Jon whispered to her, as quietly as possible.

Annabelle mouthed very clearly at him, ‘Wow, really? Shock!’.

“I was making a point,” Jon hissed. “An important point. But I don’t - I still -” Jon faltered, uncertain, as Henrietta began sneering something about Lukas’ hairdo. Finally, he weakly said, “You care. They need you.”

Annabelle stared at him for a long, silent moment, before turning away from him.

For the first time that day, she spoke to the room. “Let’s keep ad hominem attacks out of this,” she said sharply. “Madame Lukas, if you’ll make your closing remarks we can bring this to a vote.”

She really was good at it. Just like she had always wanted. She had never directly admitted it, but Annabelle had always wanted to be the kind of person in rooms like this.

A politician sitting in an uncomfortable chair at 10 Downing Street. Rich, successful, important. Powerful and respected. Back then, she had wanted to be famous. Now, she was content to be controlling famous people. A dream out of her reach in life; laughably attainable in this stagnant after-afterlife.

The dream had crippled her. In her search for a functional world, one that achieved and grew and provided a comfortable world, she had ended up recreating a world that hadn’t been functional at all. A world that was slow to change, and seemingly impossible to improve. A world passed down from the hands of the greedy and bloodthirsty into the hands of the uncaring and apathetic.

The apocalypse had been inevitable. Humans driving themselves to extinction. And Avatars, possessed of human weakness, had been eager to do the same. Just a pathetic room of sour and bitter people power-tripping.

For all that Sasha calls us bougie, Jon thought, we’re such deeply unhappy people.

There had once been a young man, desperate for attention and acknowledgement. Dreaming of importance. He would stay up late at night, planning out his life as a famous researcher and well-respected philosopher. Everyone would tell him how smart he was. He would prove it all - with a scholarship to Oxford, with a sneer and a haughty air, with a boss who said that he had so much promise, here’s a job that will let you realize your potential.

I deserve this job -

Something in Jon’s mind flared, a hot poker rammed behind his eye sockets. Jon hissed, one hand reaching unconsciously to his temple, and Annabelle glanced at him in alarm. She had - Jon had been thinking about her, and - what had he been -

Together, they managed to wrangle the meeting into something half-way productive. Most importantly, Basira had gotten three of her proposals passed, and Agnes’ arguments were stirring the other Avatars into serious discussion. Conversation itself would be stilted by his sheer presence, and they weren’t quite all working together yet, but they would.

It was really all the same to Jon if the Avatars or humans won the war. He should care a bit more than he did, so he didn’t vocalize this to the others. But this conflict sparked life, a strange and frantic energy. Experiences and growth. That was what Jon had always fed on.

It seemed that Jon’s skill at prioritizing himself over all others was as sharp as ever.

Eventually the two hours wrapped up, and the other Avatars were eager to leave. Jon waved them off cheerily.

“Meeting adjourned. Try not to do anything stupid until next time. And if any of you break the boundaries of the human safe zones, I’ll know! Annabelle, will you stay behind?”

The others filtered out quickly, uncharacteristically unwilling to see whatever carnage would be wrought. Agnes and Basira lingered.

“That went so well!” Agnes shouted, the minute the last Avatar left. The room was now empty save for Agnes, Basira, Annabelle, and - Oliver, who was leaning against the doorframe. “I can’t believe you actually did something useful!”

“Ouch,” Oliver said.

It was fair, though. Jon smiled weakly at her. “Hopefully I can help out a little more often going forward. But I’m not going to give any favoritism to you, Agnes. I’ll intervene to give humans a fair shot, but I really don’t want to be...king of a ruined world or whatever.”

“I know,” Agnes said firmly. She reached out and squeezed his arm, round and gentle face creased in determination. “You’d be terrible at it. So just be you, okay?”

Jon saluted her, before gesturing to the door. “Will you steal a historical British artifact from this garbage building for me? Daisy needs more targets to shoot.”

Agnes nodded eagerly and ran off. Jon silently hoped Basira would follow her, if also out of interest for also seeing British things destroyed, but she just looked at Jon intensely instead. Not quite a glare - just a searching, intense look, as if she was finding her own Statement from deep within him. It had always been disconcerting. Jon was still convinced she hated him.

“It’s not as if I knew you very well before we rescued you from the Panopticon,” Basira said crisply, pressing a folder to her chest, “but you’ve changed. What happened? What did Annabelle have to do with it?”

Jon and Annabelle glanced at each other. Oliver lifted an eyebrow.

“Basira -”

“Don’t ask me to trust you.”

“I didn’t betray that,” Jon asked, “did I?”

Her expression didn’t soften. “You didn’t. We’re going to continue needing your help. But an ally with inscrutable motivations who does everything on a whim is a bad ally to have.”

“I’m trying, Basira,” Jon said, impossibly exhausted and just a little disappointed. “Please be patient.”

“I’ve been patient for three years,” Basira said, before forcibly cutting herself short from whatever emotion she was about to display. “What happened?”

A phantom pain pieced Jon’s arms, like chains threaded through bone. Jon fought the urge to wince, unconsciously reaching up to rub at a spot on his forearm. Everyone noticed. “It’s...family business…”

“Did you kill Jonah Magnus?”

“Jonah Magnus killed me,” Jon snapped, far louder than he intended, “so he would have deserved it, wouldn’t he!”

He felt a little lightheaded, more than he intended. It felt like a hand was clenching inside his chest, more than he wanted. No, Basira is fragile, you can’t just - no, Agnes is a kid, Daisy said that we can’t -

“Basira Hussain,” Annabelle said, hands folded tightly in her lap, eyes serious and intent. Jon started, surprised to hear her speak again. “You should go catch up with Agnes.”

Basira stared at Annabelle for a long moment, lips thin, before she abruptly whirled on her heel and stalked out. Jon watched her go, exhausted. He waited for her heels to click down the hall, far away enough that he knew she wasn’t eavesdropping, before groaning and dropping his head down onto his desk.

“They hate me.”

“They’re scared of you,” Annabelle pointed out. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Frankly, Basira could stand to be a little more afraid of you. She’s going to get herself in trouble one of these days.”

“She’s practically my sister in law, I’m not going to hurt her,” Jon snapped. “Your stupid plan relied on me never hurting people I love.”

“Sorry,” Oliver said pleasantly, “is anyone ever going to tell me what’s going on? I feel like an NPC in Jon’s Dungeons & Dragons game.”

“You want to be an NPC, I found you working at Taco Bell.” God, whatever. Jon could tell Oliver. He wouldn’t give a shit. Jon sighed, lifting his head to twist around and look at Oliver instead. “You remember when I was asking around after Sasha James? Annabelle had put me up to it.”

“Obviously. And then Sasha James started following you around? You terrorized Annabelle’s party again?”

“Yeah, it was this whole big thing.” Jon waved a hand expressively. “Anyway, then Annabelle tried to trap me in an eternal limbo that would shred me from inside out so I could act as purveyor of the world, and probably also use her connection with me so she could take over affairs here, and probably either nudge me into shaping the world back into order or into sinking it deeper into hell. I broke out and now I’m mad at her.”

“I had at least twenty other reasons,” Annabelle said, “but that’s the gist.”

Oliver stared at them.

They all sat in awkward silence. Jon found himself winding a finger around a stray coil of hair and letting it spring back into place. He had kept it the same the last three years, never bothering to change the style. A loose and bouncy cloud of hair, sometimes brushing against his shoulders until Annabelle kidnapped him to cut it again - him, as much as the trenchcoat was. So much as anything had ever been ‘him’.

“Well,” Oliver said diplomatically, “I see that you skipped a lot of steps there. So why are you here, then?”

Was it just to spite Annabelle? Screw her out of her work? Did Jon genuinely care? Did he want to organize the other Avatars, get them mobilized and going? Did he want to protect the humans?

Did he really only care about himself, and the people he called his friends and family? Did he really only care about himself, and those he possessed?

“There’s a person I want to be,” Jon said quietly, “but I don’t know how to be him.”

Annabelle stared at him, with dark and glittering eyes, expression as implacable as always. For a sudden, stupid, intense moment, Jon wanted to know if she cared about him. If one of the few people who had always helped him, who was always in his corner, had seen him as anything more than a tool.

Like Basira, who didn’t like him as a person, but found him too valuable to alienate. But Basira was - she was deeply good, if not always kind, and Jon had the sense that she had fought to turn herself into that good person. It was something she chose. She was trying to push Jon into making that same choice.

Jon clenched his hands in his lap, his fingernails digging into his palm. “There’s people I respect, and who I want to respect me. This person I want to be...I’m worried that I only want this because that’s what they want. They’ll deny it, but they want my power. Everybody just makes me into whoever they want. Whatever’s useful to them.” Jon’s gaze snapped to Annabelle, and he fought hard to keep the compulsion from his voice. It was difficult, when he wanted to know so badly, but - “The kind of person I used to be. That person I’m ashamed of. Is that the person who was useful to you?”

He didn’t want to force the answer from her. He wanted her to choose to say it.

Annabelle didn’t react. She didn’t show anything on her face. Much less what Jon wanted from her. She just tilted her head, one of the few unafraid to meet his eyes. “I never made you be anyone, Jon. All I ever did was put you in the right place at the right time.”

“That wasn’t my question,” Jon said, and this time he couldn’t help the static creeping into his voice. “Answer me.”

Annabelle sighed. “Of course it was useful. Is that what you wanted me to voluntarily say, Jon? I didn’t bring you to the first meeting because I thought it would be educational for you. I needed your power to keep the others in line. I needed everyone else to see that I controlled your power. That’s the only reason why any of this worked. We both got something out of it. Don’t pretend that you weren’t happy with the arrangement.”

It...it wasn’t a surprise, but…

“So that’s why you didn’t bring him to any of the other meetings,” Oliver mused. “He wasn’t as controllable as you liked, not when there’s more than ten other idiots around needling him. There’s never been anybody who can always predict when Jon’s going to lose his shit. Besides the biggie, I guess.”

The biggie, which was his past.

No wonder he had stayed so childlike, innocent, and cruel for so long. Jon took responsibility for his own laziness, but - but he had been most useful that way. Annabelle had liked him best that way.

Daisy had liked him best that way too. That cruel child - Daisy had wanted him, because he made her feel needed. Annabelle was just the same.

Everyone had liked him best that way. And if Jon became the kind of person who he wanted to be, nobody would like him at all.

“If you’re going to kill me,” Annabelle said, exhaustion seeping in through her voice, “just do it.”

Jon closed his eyes. He could feel it - Annabelle’s exhaustion, the way that she had just been waiting for him to do this. Everything she knew about Jon led towards an obvious course of action. Even though you nobody knew everything that set Jon off, certain things were pretty guaranteed that he wouldn’t forgive.

Annabelle had never accounted for Sasha. She had brought Sasha into his life, and she had no idea the effect she would have on it. Sasha, who had been the first to tell Jon that she chose to care about him for him. For a brief, hot flash, Jon was jealous. He wanted to be someone unpredictably kind.

If he only wanted that because he had found yet another person to give his wind-up key, then…

“You won, Annabelle,” Jon said finally, and he only knew it as he said it. “Congratulations. You played the perfect manipulation. You took a vulnerable, afraid man, who had been violated in the worst possible way and left to die.” He stood up, already uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “And you arranged him so that he loved you. I chose to love you. I’m making the choice never to hurt you, because I still love you. ”

He left the room. Oliver stood aside just in time, letting Jon brush by.

As Jon met up with Agnes and Basira, summoning a smile and a wave for them, he felt uncomfortably as if he had grown up.

He wasn’t sure that he liked it.

#tma #the magnus archives #my writing #tma fanfic #jonathan sims #annabelle cane #oliver banks #basira hussain #agnes montague #and a ton more #tcf was about deciding to change #and this story kind of hits at how difficult it is deciding who to change into #and how difficult it is to trust your own decisions when you've been manipulated since the second you were 'born'#jon and his choices and agency is becoming a big thing for me!

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