the new world order, by Vinylroad (R)

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Fandom: INCEPTION
Title: the new world order (pinboard cache); public mirror here
Pairing: Arthur/Ariadne/Eames and all the permutations thereof
Length: 7,070 words
Author on LJ: vinylroad
Author Website: N/A at the moment - some fics on AO3; with the author's permission some inception fics have been mirrored here
Why this must be read: Calling this fic a head trip is like calling Inception mildly complicated. Slow, inexorable, inevitable, awful, incredible, Vinylroad's writing weaves layers of reality and fantasy and Arthur and Eames and Ariadne over and over each other in permutations that wrap around your heart and just squeeze. It's an unforgettable, irresistible mindfuck, one I've been carrying around with me since the first time I read this fic. Told from Ariadne's POV after Inception, there are surprises and lingering questions here that will break your brain and leave you breathless with each readthrough. This is a total must-read.

Ariadne wakes from the dream alone.  She had gone under by herself this time to test some new mazes, a new way of altering them without disturbing the dream as much as the traditional method.

She's surprised to find the room empty.  It takes her a moment to remember that she's in Geneva; the first few seconds of consciousness always feel sickeningly disorienting to her, even now.  She lets the beat of her heart slow, calming as the familiarity of her surroundings washes over her again.  The glass ceiling of the greenhouse attached to the warehouse reminds her of the first workshop back in Paris, the same warm curve of clear glass and shine of tapered metal.

She finds them toward the back, Arthur bent face-first over the sturdy wood table that's still covered with all of her sketches for the job.  Just a single layer of dreaming for this heist, but the world is an amalgamation of several different landscapes - a city, a desert, and a dense forest - all three of which are based off of real places, requiring more detailed research to perfect.

Eames is behind him, a hand between Arthur's shoulder blades, pushing him down, keeping him pinned to the table.  From this angle - head on - she can't see anything but their upper bodies, stripped down to their button-up shirts, the cuffs of Eames's rolled up to his elbows.  But she can hear the flat beat of skin meeting skin, see the pull of Arthur's shoulders when Eames fucks into him.

Shit.  Shit, Arthur grunts when he finally looks up and notices her leaning against the dusty file cabinet.

She expects a smirk from Eames, something derisive, some biting comment to Arthur, but she only gets a dark look as his thrusts grow sharper, making the table under Arthur shake mutinously.  Several of her sketches flutter off of it, slipping silently to the floor.  The room is thick with the sounds of them fucking, the wet exhale of breath and the sound of sweaty skin, the light tinkle of Eames's belt as it shakes.

She watches them finish, Eames hissing, going to come for her? at Arthur loud enough that she can hear it; Arthur does, body bucking into the table, still held down by Eames's spread palm on his back.  Eames keeps fucking him through it roughly, without mercy, finally coming with a harsh grunt, teeth finding Arthur's shoulder and biting down into the cotton covered flesh.

She feels her totem heavy in her pocket, but she doesn't reach for it.

the new world order