#but the floor is getting swept and my projects are getting done on time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writtenonreceipts · 11 months ago

Text

a/n: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays @howlingcaptaincommando! It’s been a delight getting to know you these few weeks, thanks for putting up with my insanity and I hope you enjoy this messy, slightly chaotic thing…I'm sorry you got stuck with me. Considering all the bangers being released already and then there's this...

thank you to @acotargiftexchange for organizing this event again! <3<3<3

Warnings: none (except it’s me so you’ve gotta put up with that) ~10k words

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

We’re All Waiting On A Dream

Elain Archeron had never done well with winter.

It was an unfortunate truth that no matter what she did—it never changed.

She could fill her house with plants and flowers, she could open all the blinds of the small coffee shop where she worked, she could bake her favorite bread and dessert every day of the week. But nothing could replace the sunlight of a new spring day or the deep unyielding warmth of the summer sun.

It was only mid-November and she was already craving when the sun would return. Already, she’d planned just how she would spend those first few warm days of the season and none of them involved being indoors, cold, or sitting around at home. She was going to travel and make the best of summer.

She just had to wait six months.

The lingering light of afternoon spilled through the front windows of the shop, splashing across the worn hardwood floors. It was barely four-thirty and already the sun was sneaking lower into the horizon. In just a few more minutes, it would sink behind the nearest buildings and shadows would replace those gentle strips of light.

It was unavoidable, so Elain made the best of it as she swept around the shop and adjusted the lamps that would soon do a majority of the lighting for the night. The dark oak flooring was nicked and scuffed from the wear and tear over the years. If Elain wasn’t mistaken it was the same flooring from when the shop was first built. One of these days she would try and restore the shabby wood, knowing that with a bit of sanding and new stain, the floors would gleam with new life. The project, with as much work as it would be, sounded fun. Another activity to wait to complete though.

For now, she continued her usual tasks as she straightened the small reading couch in one corner and collected a bit of trash that someone left behind. There usually wasn’t much cleaning to do even as a coffee shop. They were tucked down a small alleyway on main street, nestled beside the antiques boutique, only the locals ever really knew where to find them. And on nights like this, things usually remained relaxed and slow.

Really, though—she didn’t mind. These were the nights she enjoyed most. The quiet ones. The easy ones. The shop had long been her solace, even back in school when she’d just been a patron. Even when the winter months dragged on and on, she’d found that this place with its shelves of books and the homey atmosphere were welcoming and helped lighten her mind. It was the kind of the shop where nothing chaotic ever—

The front door jangled open with a frenzy that nearly toppled the bell along the top rail. A gust of winter air swept through the shop, nibbling at Elain’s exposed ankles. She spun around just in time to see a tall man dressed in a pair of neat, black pants and deep green sweater enter the shop. His long red hair hung loose down his shoulders; his warm tanned skin complimented by the colors of his sweater. He was too handsome for his own good, looking far too confident and sure of himself. None of which was helped by the smirk that curled his full lips.

“Elain.” he greeted as soon as he saw her.

Lucien Vanserra.

Even after all this time of knowing him, she never quite knew what to think of him. He had a way of taking the peaceable moments and turning them right on their head. No matter what happened, whenever or wherever Lucien was—there was certainly a bit of mischief to follow.

He was by himself tonight which wasn’t too much of an anomaly. Often, he was with one of his old college friends, Jurian. The two of them were well known for rambunctious energy and very little restraint. Elain had shared several classes with the two of them all through university, ended up in the same study groups, and now was subject to them coming into the shop just about every day.

She supposed she shouldn’t complain too much. Between college and the two of them were how she met one of her closest friends, Vassa, who was also currently dating Jurian. Or they were just sleeping together. Elain wasn’t too sure of the details but knew better than to ask else she face Vassa’s wrath and own probing questions.

Lucien himself was impossible to know, Elain had long ago decided. He could be an arrogant smartass while all at the same time—an idiot. The fact that he was the most attractive man Elain had ever seen didn’t help much either.

“Lucien.” Much to her chagrin she often was at a loss for words when they came face to face. She’d always been flustered by him, not that she’d ever admit it. It was that disarming smile of his she was sure.

Lucien glanced around the empty shop. “Slow night?”

“It was,” Elain said, arching a brow. Just because he flustered her didn’t mean she had to like him.

Lucien only grinned as he approached the register. He was too comfortable here, Elain decided. Especially with that confidence he always seemed to walk with. She shouldn’t judge him for that. He was always here at the shop these days, mostly because it was the only quiet space on the downtown strip. Though, Elain had no idea what he was doing, only that it kept him busy. He almost always had a computer before him taking care of some sort of work. If he wasn’t going over documents, he was on the phone in quiet but urgent conversations. She hadn’t worked up the courage to ask him what it was he did for work, worried that it would open some unknown door that she couldn’t shut if she got in too deep.

She left off cleaning and went behind the counter already putting his usual order in. He always got the same thing no matter the time of day, no matter the time of year. She hadn’t meant to memorize it, but when she was always here working and he was always coming in—it was impossible not to do.

“Do you want your usual order?” The words slipped out before she could stop them. She only realized her mistake upon looking up to find Lucien cocking an eyebrow.

“Keeping tabs on my habits, Elain?” He looked far too pleased at that fact, that smile of his rising just a tick.

“Hard not to when you’re always here,” she said, drily. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Nope.” he replied cheerfully.

Lucien really was a hard person to get to know, to understand, really. Elain had decided that back at university. His personality was so charming that he often received more attention than most. His good looks certainly helped too. Elain didn’t know if calling him a flirt was right or not, but his silver tongue often made her wonder if she’d ever experienced the real Lucien Vanserra. Even worse was, she sometimes wanted to know the real him.

He only chuckled at her sardonic look. “The usual is great. With an extra bagel, if you could?”

Elain took his payment and handed back the thick black credit card. “I’ll bring it out to you in a few.”

As she moved to get started on his drink—an iced vanilla latte with caramel—he remained at the counter, leaning against the solid granite. He did this every so often, trying to strike up a conversation with her. It was usually the stuff of nonsense that ranged from what she thought about pineapple on pizza to who keeps breaking into local zoos and releasing animals from their cages in the middle of the night.

He was immediately offended when she told him pineapple was acceptable as a pizza topping. In fact, she didn’t see him for three days after that confession. Though she didn’t think it really had anything to do with her and more on the lines of the mysterious work he was always up to.

“You’re always here, Elain,” Lucien said. “Don’t you ever get a break?”

Elain scoffed at the question. “I can’t afford time off. I’ve got bills to pay.”

School hadn’t been cheap and she still was not working in her major. A fact she would rather not think about.

“Jurian and I are going to a basketball game next week,” he said, “you should come.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d endeavored to invite her out. Just a few weeks ago there’d been a party thrown by Lucien’s older brother. It was supposedly one of the best parties of the year, including New Years.

Though, Elain wasn’t sure what counted as best party of the year considering all the times Lucien and Jurian had thrown dorm parties involving ranking Mario Cart avatars and how best to optimize playing the game to goldfish racing.

Elain didn’t bother to learn about the second activity.

“Can’t,” she said. She pulled two toasted bagels from the toaster and wrapped them up with a tube of cream cheese. “Someone’s gotta run the shop.”

It was true. Alis had stopped trying to hire anyone new because Elain always insisted on picking up shifts. Sure there was Nuala or Ceridwen who also rotated on shifts, but Elain preferred to be working.

Lucien frowned, just barely, at her answer before he accepted the bagels and finished drink from her. “Alright, it’s an open invitation though.”

He continued to eye her curiously for a minute longer before finally turning and heading to his usual table in the back corner of the shop.

Elain couldn't help but watch as he settled into his seat before turning back to her workstation to clean up after herself. A small pang echoed in her chest but she didn’t quite know how to identify the emotion behind it.

It wasn’t as though she wanted to be a recluse. Ever since leaving school, things hadn’t gone her way. Jobs kept turning her down. Her student loans were piling up. Most of her friends had moved away. Not to mention her relationship with her sisters was rocky at best. Their mother’s death hadn’t helped matters either. In all honesty, the distraction of always being at work was nice. She was exhausted by the time she got home and almost always immediately fell asleep and didn’t have to think about anything else other than keeping herself (and plants) alive.

She used to be the going out type. Used to love the social scene. It got harder though when dad’s health was declining. And then the Grayson matter.

Something needed to change. She knew that. Just a small little switch to flick and then maybe she’d feel a little bit better about where she was in life. Every time she thought about what that change could be, however, her mind only let her consider all the disastrous and unfortunate outcomes that would inevitably occur.

Which was why Tinder had long since gone dormant on her phone.

It was with these thoughts in mind that Elain was startled to attention by the door of the shop thudding open again.

“Where on earth have you been!”

Elain froze at the voice. She’d just settled in to run an inventory of supplies on the computer when her sister chose that moment to enter the shop.

Nesta Archeron entered the shop like a whirlwind. A chaotic, well put together whirlwind that hardly, if ever, touched down. She was constantly involved with one event or another, specifically to please her fiancé, or she was trying to keep her own career afloat (made nearly impossible because Thomas was an ass). There was no easy way to describe Nesta. Especially not when she hardly offered anything of herself in return. Elain loved her sister, truly she did, but sometimes the woman could be rather intense.

Her blonde hair was swept back in half-do, tendrils of hair framing her sharp features and emphasizing the startling silver of her eyes. The neutral tones of her make-up only emphasized her striking beauty and highlighted the determined way she was looking at Elain.

“I’ve been here,” Elain said, slightly amused as she typed into the computer. “All day. My job is rather annoying like that.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, unamused and stalked the rest of the way to the register, her high heeled shoes clicked lightly on the floor, her black dress and sleek jacket indicating it had been a please the fiancé sort of day and not one to have to herself. She set her purse, some designer that Elain didn’t recognize, on the counter and leaned forward with a frown.

“You missed the dress fitting,” Nesta said.

Elain nodded. “Just like I told you I would. There was no one to take my shift and I wasn’t about to close shop in the middle of the day.”

Elain had tried explaining this to her sister before, but since it was an inconvenience for her, Nesta had forgotten it. Alright. That was unfair. Nesta did have quite a bit of stress as she was trying to plan a wedding with a useless fiancé. And said useless fiancé was having Nesta take over quite a bit of his own business duties.

Anytime Elain tried talking to her sister about it, Nesta shut down and changed the topic entirely.

“I know,” Nesta sighed, brushing stray strands of hair out of her face. A look of genuine apology flashed in her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry, but it was the only time that worked and you know how important this is for Thomas. But I really needed you at the fitting, Elain. Everything has to go perfectly.”

Flinching inwardly, Elain held back a sigh. On Saturday, her soon to be brother-in-law was to be honored as the new vice-president of his company…doing something of some import. All because of the work Nesta herself had done.

In any case, Elain would be expected to attend because the more people there in support of Thomas the better he came off to his boss. Though, if he were being promoted his boss must already think highly of him. (It was all very convoluted to Elain.)

Then came the fact that Thomas did not like her. And she didn’t like him, so really it all worked out that way. But Elain liked her sister. She wanted to support her sister. And now she was roped into a hoity toity gala. She’d have to shave. Everywhere.

“Nesta,” Elain said patiently, “I am more than happy to support Thomas,” who knew she was an excellent liar? – “and I will be there. Buy the dress as is and I can have Vassa alter it for me. She’s good like that.”

Vassa would laugh her ass off is what she would do, but Elain wouldn’t tell Nesta that.

Nesta blinked, a mild look of panic seizing her face. “Does Vassa know anything about sewing?”

“Sure,” Elain shrugged. “How hard could it be?”

“Elain.”

“Nesta.” Elain reached out and patted her sister’s hand. “The dress fit perfectly the first time I tried it on, three weeks isn’t going to make much of a difference.”

“Alright. You’re right.” Nesta sighed, slouching even further into the counter. Elain had no doubt her sister was counting down the moment to when she could kick her heels off into a corner and not look at them for at least twenty-four hours. “I won’t worry about the dress. But, I do need to know who you’re bringing.”

“Bringing?” Elain repeated. An icy feeling started spreading through her. Oh no. Oh no. She hadn’t prepared for this.

“Yes bringing, you can't come alone Elain,” Nesta said. She gave Elain a look as this was the most obvious thing. “There will be cameras and Thomas’s boss will be there too.”

Why Elain should care about Thomas’s boss, she had no idea. Why anyone would care about her being there, she had no idea. And she said as much.

“Who cares if I have a date?” She demanded. “I am a grown woman. I don't have to bring anyone. I don’t think anyone will want to stamp my picture on whatever new pamphlet the company puts out next year.”

Nesta’s own panic spread across her face. “Please, Elain. I know it’s a little ridiculous, but it has to go perfectly. I know someone I can ask for you, Thomas has a friend—”

Elain blanched.

“No, no I have someone. I have someone…a boy. A boyfriend. I have one.” Elain spoke before she even knew what she was saying. She was digging her own grave but her brain hadn't caught up to that fact.

“You have a boyfriend?” Nesta snapped to attention at the words. Her blue eyes narrowed in on Elain. “Why haven't I heard about him? What's his name, where did he study? Family?”

She really had to think before she spoke. This was not going to end well. Elain gaped at her sister trying hard to think of an answer. How much could she make up before Nesta caught on? Could she fabricate the perfect gentleman only to have him break her heart on the night of the event? Or would that be too dramatic and detract from Thomas?

Elain pulled herself together as best she could. “This is why I didn't say anything because I knew you would do this, Nesta.”

“Honestly Elain, if you’re just going to make up a story--” Nesta was already pulling out her phone and selecting a number in her contacts.

“Lucien.” Elain blurted out the first name that came to mind. “Lucien Vanserra. That’s who he is. And he's right here. Lucein!”

At the very direct sound of his name, Lucien looked up from his coffee and laptop with a bite of bagel making its way to his mouth. It was the first time she had ever seen him caught off guard. It was rather unfortunate that she didn't have time to appreciate it properly.

Lucien recovered from whatever shock he was facing or he was just that good at reading a situation because he set down his bagel and in a few loping steps he was back out the counter, his grin back in place.

“Elain.” As always, he appeared perfectly agreeable, his casual business wear only emphasizing how put together he was. Whether he’d overheard what Elain and her sister had been talking about, she couldn’t tell. She just hoped he was as good an actor as he always seemed to be.

Especially given the fact that Nesta was scrutinizing him in overtime.

“This is the boyfriend?” Nesta asked, her words slow as if she herself needed to make sense of them too.

Lucien glanced at Elain with a rather bemused expression. She gave him as pleading a look as she could while Nesta continued her assessment.

When Lucien nodded discreetly at her, Elain felt a small bit of relief. She wouldn’t trust it for long though.

“Lucien Vanserra,” he said. He extended a hand to Nesta who paused for a moment before accepting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Elain talks about you all the time.”

Nesta didn’t answer immediately. As with everything, she took great care in analyzing everything about a situation.

“Vanserra,” Nesta repeated. She had a thing about names and people and appearances. Vanserra must have been a decent enough name because Nesta raised her chin slightly, a slow smile working at one corner of her mouth. “She hasn’t mentioned you before.”

Unperturbed, Lucien adopted his casual ease and laughed. “Considering how long it took for her to pay me any attention, I’m not surprised.”

His words sent an unbidden flush over Elain’s skin even as she glared at him. She didn’t exactly know what to make of his words either. Either he was very good at lying on the spot (concerning) or there was a pinch of truth to his words (also concerning).

“Well,” Nesta said. She turned back to Elain abruptly. “Saturday. The event starts at seven, I expect you to be there at six-thirty. Six-thirty, Elain.”

“I will be there,” Elain said, Nesta gave her a look. “We will be there.”

The only thing that saved Elain from further humiliation by her own doing was Nesta’s phone buzzing with an incoming call.

Nesta only ignored it long enough to raise a single brow to Lucien. “Black tie.”

It wasn’t until the door of the shop clicked shut that Elain let out a rather unfeminine groan and nearly collapsed across the work counter. What had she just gotten herself into?

“So,” Lucien said, his voice growing closer as he filled the space Nesta vacated. Elain looked up to him leaning across the space to get closer to her. “When did we start dating?”

Elain felt her cheeks flush deeper. Oh hell, what had she done?

Huffing out a breath she straightened and ran her hands through her hair. She fixed Lucien with as menacing a look as she could while he kept grinning.

“What was I supposed to do? She was going to set me up with someone from her fiancé’s work. I’ve seen a majority of those men, no good options.” Elain knew she was rambling in desperation, but she couldn’t help it. Thankfully the embarrassment of the past ten minutes hadn’t set in yet. That was one miracle she’d accept.

“Hm,” Lucien hummed, “I do see your dilemma. This is a rather interesting choice of action though, all the same.”

Groaning, Elain started pacing behind the counter. “It’s fine. I can make up a dramatic break-up story within the next three days. That’ll fix this. Oh, no. It won’t because she knows your name, she’ll find you. I could fake an illness? Except I used that the last time there was one of these events.”

This was turning out to be not very good.

Elain stopped and looked at him. “I am so sorry. This is going to be a nightmare.”

“Ah, Elain, what you don’t know about me is that I was born for mischief and mayhem. Just ask my mother, she has an entire photo album dedicated to the destruction I caused as a child.”

“I don’t think this is helping,” she said, slightly horrified.

He flashed her a smile. “Oh but it will help. I can promise a night full of fun, you’ll hardly even realize you’re at a…where are we going?”

“A work party for her fiancé’s marketing company,” Elain explained, crinkling her nose as she remembered the rather mundane and boring job Thomas had. “He just landed an account for drills and is being promoted.”

“Why the hell would anyone—” Lucien cut himself off with a wave of his hand— “doesn’t matter. The point still stands that I can guarantee a fun night.”

“Can you hold a conversation about drills?”

“No but I do know magic.”

“Absolutely not.”

The two stared at each other for a long moment.

Lucien spoke first. “It’d be hilarious. Get you out of any more of these events.”

A startled laugh escaped her. She couldn’t help it. There was just something in the way he spoke and the sincerity that he held that just seemed funny. At her first bubble of laughter, Lucien joined in.

“C’mon, Elain, consider it a practice run,” he said.

“Practice run?” Elain repeated.

“Sure,” Lucien shrugged. “When you come to the basketball game with Jurian and I. Vassa can come.”

His eyes sparked with a mix of humor and…hope?

Elain approached the counter again, still not believing that he was agreeing to this. Even with a little bit of insistence to his own favor. In all honesty, she wasn’t entirely sure why he was so interested in her. In school she’d been a bit intense in her studies and hadn’t left much room from friendships or other relationships for that matter. But he’d always been there on the edge of her sights. A nuisance sure, but there all the same. And there weren’t a lot of people she could say the same of.

“You have a suit and tie?” she asked. He nodded. “You’re okay with pretending to be my boyfriend?” Another nod. “You won’t let this be a thing that you hold over my head?”

“Elain,” Lucien said. A bit of the humor left his voice and he straightened. “Consider it a favor among friends. You don’t even have to go watch basketball. I want to help you out.”

She worried her lip, still not completely convinced. But she knew what would happen if she showed up alone and knew that Nesta would laud it over her for the rest of their lives.

“Alright,” she agreed. “Lucien Vanserra, would you please be my fake boyfriend?”

His russet eyes sparked. “Elain Archeron, it would be my pleasure.”

…

On Saturday evening, Elain found herself trying to control her sanity. It was not going very well.

“Would you hold still?” Vassa muttered for yet another time. She stabbed Elain’s shoulder with a bobby pin. “We’re almost done.”

Elain squirmed again. Usually, she didn’t mind sitting still and being pampered. Hell, she loved it. Getting dressed up and looking her best was something she missed being able to do. It had been the one thing she was looking forward to about the night. After so long of being so shut in, having a night to just be and have fun? If it weren’t for the mess of dealing with Thomas (and now a forced fake relationship) she wouldn’t have given her sister such a hard time.

As it was, she was still nervous.

Maybe it was being out among people again? No, she’d always loved people and making new friends. It had to be Lucien. It had to be the idea of getting closer to him even for a night. She had no idea why. It was just Lucien.

But the closer the clock ticked to six, the more her stomach flopped.

Vassa tugged hard on Elain’s hair.

“Ow!”

“Oops.”

Elain glared through the mirror at her friend who ignored her. It hadn’t taken very much pleading to enlist her friends help in preparing for this stupid party. Mostly just a promised girl’s night out. Though, after Elain had explained what had happened and who she would be going with and the entirety of the fake boyfriend situation—Vassa had found no issue in helping Elain out.

Once she’d stopped laughing of course.

“This is going to be a disaster,” Elain muttered. She wrung her hands together as she stared at their reflections. “I should have just put my foot down and told Nesta no.”

“Since when has telling Nesta no ever worked out, Elain?” Vassa replied. She shoved another bobby pin into place causing Elain to wince. “Besides, Lucien is fun. Do you remember in school when he hired a mariachi band to follow the dean around?”

That, admittedly, had been hilarious. There was also the time Lucien and Jurian had built a giant outdoor water slide on the hottest day of the year. Complete with a water balloon fight afterwards. If there was one thing to say about Lucien it was that he enjoyed having a good time.

“And he’s good looking,” Vassa added.

“Vassa,” Elain sighed.

“He comes into your shop a lot too,” Vassa said. She cocked her head to one side through the mirror, a small smile on her lips.

Elain’s glare went ignored. Again.

After another few minutes, Vassa hummed happily and patted Elain’s head.

“There,” she said. “I think that looks good.”

It really did.

While Elain could often manage on her own to make herself look flawless and put together—she’d needed a bit more confidence for that night. And who else could she ask for help than Vassa?

Most of her hair still flowed down her back in loose curls, but the rest was pulled up in a twisting braid. It all came together with the carefully applied make-up Elain had done.

“Thanks,” Elain said. She touched a few places in her hair out of habit. Everything was perfect though.

“You’re gonna look great,” Vassa said. Her smile was infectious as she leaned in for a quick hug. “Let's get you in your dress. He’ll be here any minute.”

Elain’s stomach flopped again. She really wasn’t going to get out of this was she? And yet there was a small part of her that asked if she really wanted to.

It had been ages since she’d had a fun night out. Even if it was to go to an event for Thomas of all people—Elain was just eager for fun. And she was going with Lucien. Lucien who actually made Elain smile. And he’d never pressured her in all the little flirtations he’d thrown her way. He’d remained respectful and even kept his distance when she’d silently begged for it. Not that he’d known what was going in in her life, but her relationship with Grayson had been a joke. It’s what had led to her slipping away from her usual outgoing self…

Elain banished the thoughts away. She couldn’t be thinking about this.

She hurried after Vassa and down the hall to her room.

She hadn’t been able to get any help with making extra modifications to the gown, but she wasn’t worried. She’d never had an issue with finding things that fit easily. Both Nesta and Feyre hated her for it, but Elain had never been more grateful than she was that night.

Vassa was already pulling the dress from its coverings, revealing the floor length fabric. If there was one thing Elain could trust Nesta in, it was her fashion sense.

The dress was a pale purple made of a light chiffon fabric. There was a little bit of rouching at the sides with a draped neckline. Elian’s favorite part about the dress though were the sheer flutter sleeves. It might be a little impractical with the chill weather, but she didn’t care.

She couldn’t help the small smile as she examined the dress. Yes. She was more than a little excited to wear it. She hurried and stripped from her leggings and tank top before shimming into the dress. The other good thing was that she didn’t have to mess with a strapless bra and could get away with what she usually wore.

She waited as Vassa zipped her in and brushed out any wrinkles or funny lines in the fabric.

Vassa hummed in amusement as she circled Elain once. “Your breasts look amazing.”

Hell.

Elain smacked her friend on the arm and turned to the full-length mirror propped up in the corner of her room. Indeed, her breasts looked amazing. The dress was of a silky material that clung to Elain’s usually nonexistent curves. The sweetheart neckline dipped a bit lower than she expected, showing off more of her neck and collarbones. The soft purple color complimented her lighter complexion and the rich brown undertones of her hair. She didn’t look washed out or haunted—she looked like herself. Happy.

“Damn,” Elain sighed. “I was hoping I’d look terrible. Nesta wouldn’t blame me for not showing up if I looked like a cow.”

Vassa snorted a laugh. “Please, Elain. You’d look good in anything.”

Elain bit her lip and gave a half spin, watching the fabric twist with her movements. “I don’t know if I have a jacket that will match. It’s too cold to go without something.”

“I’ve got just the thing,” Vassa said before disappearing to her own room.

As soon as she vanished, there was a knock at the front door and Elain froze. Hell. It was already time, wasn’t it?

She took a long breath, flattening her hands over her stomach. She could do this. It was going to be fun and easy. Lucien after all had agreed to no pressure, they were simply friends. She stared into her own eyes, gave a sharp nod and hurried down the hall to the small entry way of the apartment. She took one more steadying breath as she pulled the door open.

There, looking impeccable in a neat, black suit and perfectly knotted tie was Lucien. His hair was unfortunately pulled back into a low hanging tail, Elain always liked seeing it loose. The suit fit him well, emphasizing his muscular build well. He looked good. He’d always been handsome with his tall figure and strong jaw, but tonight felt different.

Elain knew she was staring, but she couldn’t help it. The only solace she took in that was the way Lucien was taking her in. His gaze flicked from her dress to her face and she swore his mouth parted just a bit. Now he was just putting on a show.

“Lucien,” she said, trying desperately to untangle her tongue. “You clean up well.”

That had to be the stupidest thing she could have said. Hell in handbasket, what was wrong with her?

Still, that familiar smile of his returned and a glint sparked in his rich russet eyes. “I could say the same about you, Elain.”

The way he said her name sent a shiver racing down her spine. Another thing she didn’t know how to reconcile. Because if she were being honest, she was surprised he’d shown up at all. He easily could have text a brief can’t make it text and really, could she have blamed him? She cleared her throat, hands wringing together nervously. She had no idea what was wrong with her—she didn’t get nervous, especially not around Lucien Vanserra of all people.

“I almost thought you didn’t own a tie,” she added, falling back to what she knew--sarcasm. “You always say they’re too restricting.”

Lucien rolled his eyes. “Until I started working for my brother. Apparently, I have to be professional nowadays.”

“Poor Lucien,” Elain sighed, “has to join the real world with the rest of us.”

“It’s terrible,” he agreed.

Before either of them could say anything else, Vassa gave a shout of triumph from down the hall.

“I found it!” With the rapid pattering of bare feet, Vassa careened from her room and down to the entryway of the apartment. Her red hair pitched violently to one side from the confines of her bun. She waved a stylish jacket at Elain as she approached. “It will match perfectly, Nesta won’t have to gouge your eyes out.”

Elain accepted the jacket. “Thanks, Vassa.”

“Of course,” Vassa said. She then flashed Lucien an appraising look. “Hello Vanserra.”

Lucien accepted Vassa’s scrutiny with grace, only continuing to smile with that charming grin of his. “Vassa, nice to see you again.”

Despite her earlier words of approval of him--Vassa continued to eye him suspiciously.

“I have a list of rules that should be adhered to,” she began.

“No you do not,” Elain said. She brushed past Vassa and gave her a quick hug. “We’re late. Thank-you for your help.”

She grabbed Lucien’s arm and ushered him out the door as quickly as possible.

“Don’t do anything illegal, I don’t have bail money!” Vassa shouted after them.

Elain let the door click shut without calling back a response. It was easier that way. Especially when there was no guarantee what Vassa would say next. Sometimes her filter was a hit and miss.

“She’s always such a delight,” Lucien commented as they got on the elevator.

Elain snorted a laugh. “Oh, yeah. She teeters on the edge of unsuspecting sweetheart to raging terror real quick.”

Once you got to know Vassa, to understand her nuances and her habits--she maintained the questionable reputation but with a bit more trust and care on your part. Truly, Elain didn’t know where she would be without her friend.

“Didn’t she stage a revolution of frogs from the Biology Department on campus?” Lucien asked.

“It was very well organized,” Elain admitted. She did not, however, remind Lucien that she had been right beside Vassa in running said revolution.

Despite Lucien’s protests, Elain insisted she drive. Mostly for that semblance of control that she felt was slipping away from her. She was far too nervous that she needed to be for the night. Which was ridiculous considering this would turn out to be the most boring night imaginable. No matter what Nesta insisted.

“Isn’t this the car you had back in school?” Lucien asked as Elain pulled out onto the highway. “How is it still running?”

True, Elain’s small two-door car had quite a few years on her and the air conditioning didn’t work, but it was a good car. She said as much.

“She’s reliable and all of her issues are easily fixed,” Elain said. She paused. “Well, that’s mostly because the stereo is really good and the speakers drown out any annoying sound.”

“Right, so what you’re telling me is that I could possibly die tonight?”

“You’re the one who insisted on helping me out,” Elain replied. She smiled then, allowing the small levity of the moment to potentially ease her nerves. When she glanced at Lucien, she found him watching her, a look of amusement in his eyes.

She turned back to the road and tried to ignore the way her heart fluttered at just having him here. It was stupid really. Just a response to being grateful he’d volunteered to this hairbrained idea.

“So,” Lucien began after a few minutes of silence, “how long have we been dating?”

“Is this really necessary?” she asked, the flutters picking up pace at his words.

“We’ve got to have a background Elain,” Lucien insisted, “can’t have anyone poking holes in this plot. What would your sister say?”

Elain paused only a beat. “That I could have tried harder.”

“Exactly, now. How long have we been dating?” he asked.

Elain wondered if she should be concerned by his enthusiasm about this. “Just a few months. Nothing elaborate.”

“A few months and already willing to send me to the throes of your family? You must really like me then.”

Elain glared while Lucien laughed. It continued from there with them establishing details of how best they could pull this off. Mostly, they leaned on their college days to fill in any details of how they met and things like that. There wouldn’t be much lying involved since they’d shared so many classes right up until the division into their specific degrees. But Elain couldn’t help but laugh as he insisted it would work out fine.

“Please, Lucien,” she said as she pulled into the event center, where there was a line waiting for the valet. “You hated me back then, how’s anyone going to believe this?”

“You think I hated you?” Lucien asked, genuine concern flashing in his eyes.

Elain’s lips parted, though she didn’t know how to reply. She started to speak when a soft knock on her window indicated the valet was ready for them.

Glad for the interruption, she scrambled out of the car. The young man dressed in a starched red vest was kind enough to help her out of the dinky little car. And he didn’t even give her a side-eyed glance at the pathetic nature of her car. That was nice.

She was still smoothing out her dress when Lucien came around the car and offered up his arm for her.

“Thanks,” she murmured, accepting the offer. If she were being honest, she needed the support of someone beside her for this. It had been a while since she’d come out to an event like this. Ever since her messy break-up with Grayson, she just hadn’t been up to going out.

And she loved parties. Truly, before Grayson, this would have been the highlight of her night, her week. But after everything the man had put her through, Elain felt more than a bit of unease run through her. Insecurities she’s felt throughout her relationship resurfaced. She needed this night to prove to herself, and Nesta, that she was fine. She was more than fine. She was back to her usual self. She was moving on. She was—

“Elain,” Lucien said from beside her, his finger squeezing her arm just enough to be reassuring, “I can hear you overthinking this.”

She made a non-committal noise and let Lucien lead them up to the entrance doors behind another couple.

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “Really it is, all Nesta needs is to see me, then we can go find the caterer and beg for free food while hiding in the kitchen.”

“We can do that?” he asked, sounding intrigued by the idea. “I thought you’d jump at the opportunity to be at an event like this.”

“Usually I would,” Elain admitted, she shrugged delicately. “I just can’t help but think something will go wrong with the night. Or the dress. Nesta wanted me to get it professionally altered but I didn’t have time, or money. But Nesta likes being in control of things like this, I guess.” She paused. “I have cash stuffed in my bra; I am not beneath offering bribes. We could be out of here in five minutes if we wanted.”

“Elain,” Lucien said softly as a woman offered to take their coats, “you’re freaking out.”

“If I were freaking out, you’d know it,” Elain replied. “I am merely over explaining everything to give me less time to worry about everything else.”

They entered the main hall of the center that had been completely transformed from the last time Elain had been here for a coffee expo for work. Instead of standard tables and plain rugs, there was open space intermixed with tall glass tables and softly glowing lights. It actually looked like an important event and some hoax.

“Here she comes,” Elain said, spotting her sister immediately.

Nesta strode toward them with purposeful steps. The dress clung to her curves from the chest to her waist before billowing out around her hips. The dark blue fabric was inlaid with beads that caught in the light, offering a little softness to the otherwise intimidating dress. Though, there was no one else who could have pulled it off then Nesta. She’d twisted her hair into a coronet of braids with beaded pins to match the dress.

Elain couldn’t help but fidget with her dress. Nesta had always been strikingly beautiful not only with her looks, but she was tall and well portioned in all the right places she should have been. Elain had never felt the same about herself. Oh, she’d been called lovely and pretty on many occasions, but here and now she felt like nothing in comparison to her sister.

A hand rested at the small of her back and Lucien leaned in to her side. “You look beautiful, Elain. And if your sister doesn’t think so, she’s insane.”

The simple words caused heat to rise in Elain’s cheeks and she found herself staring into Lucien’s eyes. Bright, russet eyes that had flecks of gold spinning amid the darker shades. The certainty with which he spoke surprised her more than anything.

“Elain!” Nesta called out in a cheery voice that belied how stressed out she actually was. Nesta was never cheerful. Elain could swear she could see the whites of her sister’s eyes even from ten feet away. “There you are.”

“Nesta,” Elain greeted as her sister approached.

Nesta pulled Elain into a tight hug, shocking considering how touch averse the eldest Archeron could be. Elain accepted it for the good will gesture it was.

When she pulled back, Nesta smiled softly. “You do look lovely. The dress turned out perfect.”

“Thank-you,” Elain murmured.

Nesta gave her arm another squeeze before turning to look Lucien over. She nodded once tightly. “Well. I’m glad you’re both here. It’s going to be a good night. Thomas’ boss is over there with the red tie, don’t look! Red tie, silver hair. Do not talk to him unless you promise to behave.”

“I’m twenty-five, Nesta,” Elain said, “I know how to behave in social situations.”

Nesta fixed her with a signature unamused glare just as Lucien spoke up.

“Does that mean no magic tricks?” He leaned in into Elain. “I practiced and everything.”

“Absolutely not.” Nesta gaped at him.

Elain barely managed to hold back her grin. “Oh, but he’s actually really good, Nesta. Doesn’t even need an assistant or anything.”

That got a warning finger waggled in both of their faces.

“Absolutely no shenanigans,” she said, “do I made myself clear?”

A spare glance at Lucien told Elain he was trying, and failing to appear chastened.

“We’ll go occupy ourselves,” Elain said, “don’t worry so much.”

That was probably the last thing Nesta wanted to hear. But Elain only smiled brightly and grabbed Lucien’s hand, pulling him with her.

“We’ll be over here!”

“Not doing magic.”

Elain smacked Lucien on the chest. He didn’t even bother to hide his laugh.

“Behave!” Nesta hissed. She spun on her heel to return to Thomas’ side where he was regaling his boss with what must have been a truly miserable story about the lint stuck to his tie.

“C’mon,” Elain said, one hand still gripping Lucien’s. “I think there’s an open bar.”

Together, they slipped through the throngs of people that continued to arrive. Elain recognized a few from various parties she’d been forced to attend on other occasions. How she’d gained such notoriety for herself was a bit concerning. Both for her sake and Nesta’s, seeing as how Nesta would insist on determining a contingency plan to explain Elain’s antics to whoever may listen.

The plan would have to explain away Lucien now too as Elain was forced to introduce her boyfriend over and over.

After nearly fifteen minutes of socializing with people Elain barely even knew--they managed to break free to the tables standing at the ready for a casual setting of drinks and hor-d'oeuvres brought around by waitstaff in black and white uniforms.

“Why don’t you get a table,” Lucien suggested, “I’ll get us some drinks.”

“Sure,” Elain agreed.

She watched him as he disappeared into the small crowd near the bar. It was strange being here with him. Having him as her date and acting like this was the most normal thing to occur. She didn’t really understand why he’d agreed to this plan—helping her. Well, if only to swindle another date out of her. But this certainly was an elaborate way to get what he wanted.

She managed to find a few open chairs at a back table, not that she minded. To have a little bit of isolation away from the awkward small talk of Thomas’ company was preferable.

Though, just as she moved to go claim the seats, a hand grabbed her elbow. Elain spun around to come face to face with the one person she’d been hoping to avoid.

“Grayson,” Elain said, trying her best not to appear utterly taken aback by his appearance. She’d known he was going to be here. Had planned for it really, she’d just hoped he wouldn’t have actually tried to talk to her.

They’d dated for a year, the relationship ending only a few months ago now. Nesta had introduced them at an event just like this. Grayson worked in just one department over from Thomas. It was the perfect situation, Nesta had insisted, and Grayson had always been a respectable prospect.

But everything promptly fell apart when Elain had suggested going back to get her master’s and maybe even doctorate. The news hadn’t settled well with Grayson who only wanted a perfect nuclear family and a perfect wife to be waiting for him at home.

She drew away from him even as he tried stepping in closer.

“Elain, it’s good to see you.” Grayson had a standard profile, nothing truly remarkable in his looks, though he did have a good nose. His brown hair was neatly styled back, cut in a perfect standard haircut. “I didn’t think you would be here.”

“I’m supporting my sister and her fiance,” Elain said.

She’d spent the better part of the last few months not necessarily getting over him—rather the way he made her feel. She hadn’t been happy with the thought of simply coming home and doing nothing with her life. While she wanted a family and wanted kids, she knew there was more she wanted to do with her life first. Grayson had tried to make her regret all those things. He’d stifled her, guilted her, done all the things that made her question who she really was.

There had been enough time wasted over him that she wasn’t interested in wasting even more.

She tried slipping past him. “I should go, I have—”

Grayson was too quick for her. He stepped in front of her again, hand already reaching for her.

“We should talk, get caught up,” he insisted.

Elain could only stare. He’d been so insistent about a clean break that he hadn’t even bothered to return any of the things she’d left at his apartment. Only to pop up in her DMs a few months later to “check-up.” She didn’t need this. Or want this.

“No,” she said. “You don’t actually want that, Gray. And I certainly don’t.”

The grip on her arm tightened as a dark look flashed in his pale eyes. He’d never liked being told no. Some would say that was what made him good at his job. Elain would say that was the real reason why she was happy with their break-up.

“Everything alright, Elain?”

Never had that voice sent so much relief spiraling through her. Behind Grayson, Lucien had returned, drinks in hand. But he wasn’t looking at Elain. His attention rested solely on Grayson who slowly turned to assess the new arrival.

To Grayson’s credit, he didn’t balk at the sight of Lucien. Even though Lucien was several inches taller with a stronger build. Grayson had always been on the leaner side. But with the dark look in his eyes and the way he stood, nearly towering over the bother of them—Lucien was not someone to be easily ignored.

“She’s fine,” Grayson answered before Elain had the chance.

Lucien quirked a single eyebrow and finally looked at Elain. He still had that hard look in his eyes, but Elain knew that razor thin line between anger and control had nothing to do with her.

“Is everything alright, Elain?” he asked again.

“Fine,” Elain replied, rather proud that she was able to keep her voice even. “I was just telling Grayson that you were waiting for me.”

This time as Elain pulled away, Grayson let her go. She was able to skirt around him and to Lucien without any fanfare. As it was, they’d drawn a few eyes of other attendees.

“Elain,” Grayson began. But Elain had no desire to hear what else he had to say.

“My boyfriend and I were leaving,” she said promptly.

Then with a bit more force than she intended, she managed to drag Lucien away from the growing scene. It was a shame, she really wanted to dance at least a little bit.

She didn’t stop until they were through a small side door that led out into an empty hallway. It was blissfully quiet and several degrees cooler than in the event room.

“That,’ she said, “was just what I wanted to avoid.”

Lucien said nothing, only handing her a glass of champagne. Elain accepted it gratefully. While she’d never much cared for the taste, she needed something that would maybe settle her nerves. Because everything inside of her was feeling spun on its head.

After she drowned the first glass, Lucien held out the second which she took too.

“Are you sure you're alright?” he asked again. He didn’t try to reach out to her or comfort her in any other way. Which Elain was grateful for. The adrenaline still snapping through her would likely have made her do something stupid.

“Yeah,” she said. She took another sip of champagne before shaking her head. “He’s just an ass and I should have done a better job at avoiding him.”

“Ex?” he confirmed.

“I didn’t even like him that much,” Elain admitted.

She took a step down the blackened hallway that had only one emergency light burning in the distance. A sheer glass wall looked out into a small garden walkway between two different parts of the center. Most of the foliage was beginning to bloom with bright green leaves dancing in a small breeze that rustled outside.

Elain turned back to Lucien and smiled softly. “Sorry. I promised an easy night out, not stacked with drama. Thank-you though, for showing up when you did.”

“What are fake boyfriends for?” Lucien joked, returning her smile. “Did you know he’d be here?”

“I figured,” Elain said, “Nesta had Thomas introduce us. And It was fine for a while…until it wasn’t. I think she was going to try and set me up with him again tonight, just so I wouldn’t show up alone.”

Elain smiled softly. She didn’t blame her sister, not really. She hadn’t told anyone except Vassa the real reason behind her and Gray’s break-up. She just didn’t think Nesta would understand. Her sister had always had so much control over her own life that Elain felt if she admitted to her own insecurities…it would almost be a failure in and of itself.

“And I didn’t want that,” Elain said. She set the second champagne glass down on a side table that had been left out in the hall. And then because it seemed like the best thing to do, she apologized again. “I’m sorry.”

“Elain,” Lucien said, stepping towards her. “You have nothing to apologize for. Hell, you got roped into this whole night against your will.”

“Sometimes it’s just easier to go along with Nesta,” Elain said with a wane smile. “I know she just wants this to be a good night for Thomas and she’s doing her best but…”

Lucien didn’t let her finish her sentence. He took her hand in one of his large ones, immediately engulfing her in warmth.

“C’mon.”

He began pulling her down the hall, away from the party.

“What? Where are we going?” Elain asked.

Lucien only flashed a mischievous smile, the overhead lights catching in the deep umber of his eyes. He led them to an emergency exit that took them outside to the cool night air. After the stress of running into Grayson, the fresh air felt wonderful to Elain. Even if the overhead clouds threatened rain, she loved the feeling of being outside.

After a few yards they reached the valet stand once again. The same workers as before eyed them with a mix of amusement and wariness.

“We’ll need our car back,” Lucien informed them, passing a tip over as he spoke. He then turned to Elain. “Wait here, I’ll get your coat. I’d rather not have Vassa plot my murder.”

He shucked off his own jacket in the meantime and draped it over her shoulders before dashing off back to the event center. Elain could only stare after him. Was he seriously suggesting they leave early? Elain could already picture the face Nesta would be making once she realized they were gone. And the texts she’d receive.

But she knew even if she’d tried to object to Lucien, he would ignore her and insist playing a little hooky never hurt anyone. It wasn’t long at all when he returned with her coat.

“What are we doing?” Elain asked as they swapped coats back.

“There’s an ice cream place just down the street,” Lucien said, “best pecan praline in the city. None of the food in there was interesting anyways, no bacon and no shrimp. I checked.”

Elain’s sad little car puttered into view, coming to a stop just before them. The valet got out, holding the door open.

“Ah-ah,” Lucien said, blocking Elain before she could get in. “You had two glasses of champagne.”

“One and a half,” she argued.

“Close enough.” He had the gall to wink at her before escorting her around to the passenger side. “Relax, Elain.”

She scowled at him, but ultimately knew he was right. She shouldn’t be driving even if she thought she was fine. Instead, she glared at him the entire time that he got into the driver’s seat and made a big show of adjusting just about everything he could think of.

“Damn, Elain, you’re short.”

“Vassa’s not the only one who can plot a murder you know,” she grumbled.

Not at all concerned by the mild threat, Lucien drove them the short distance to the small ice cream shop he’d mentioned. Two oversized cups later they were back sitting in the parking lot with the car heater running while they watched the traffic in the distance.

“Nesta’s going to kill me,” Elain mused as she tasted her helping of pecan praline. Which admittedly was the best she’d ever had.

“Just tell her it’s part of my famous magic act,” Lucien said, “the Now you see me, Now you don’t addition.”

Elain snorted. “Hm, I do always love a good disappearing act.”

“See? Magic’s not all bad.”

Elain shook her head, trying not to give him the satisfaction of a laugh. He must have sensed her straining efforts because he nudged her with his elbow.

“It’s alright admitting you were wrong, natural even.” He took a spoonful of his own ice cream--rocky road—and nodded to her. “Though, perfectionist that you are, I know how hard that is for you.”

“I’m not a perfectionist!”

“Several hours’ worth of arguing in study rooms suggest otherwise.”

“Saying you’re going to wing it on an assignment worth thirty percent or our grade is irresponsible and ridiculous,” she told him. A few of their shared assignments had been rather difficult to get through considering both of their different study approaches.

“I still scored as well as you did,” he reminded her.

Rolling her eyes, Elain ate more ice cream. “But you never hated me?”

The words from earlier still lingered in the back of her mind and with everything else that had happened that night, she hadn’t really been able to puzzle them out.

“No,” Lucien said, “you were never someone I could hate.”

Elain watched him for a moment, considering her words. She’d never really imagined herself here, eating ice cream while dressed in formal wear with someone she’d once rivaled with. Someone she hadn’t seen completely.

“I know nothing about basketball,” she informed him, “so that game you’re planning on taking me to could turn into a disaster. You’ll have to keep me well stocked with garlic fries and lemonade.”

“Whatever you say, Elain.”

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Thanks for reading y’all I hope you enjoyed it! I have the vaguest of vague ideas for a nessian spin off, but who knows… anyways, love y’all and Merry Christmas <3

Tumblr is still throwing fits about my tag lists and I can’t do an extended tag list of people. So, if you’d reblog I would really appreciate it!

#elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar gift exchange #acotar fic #fanfiction #acotar fanfic

59 notes · View notes

sleepyfan-blog · 5 months ago

Text

Shock

Author’s Note: This is the next fic in Cedric’s Adventures. First. Previous. Next C-u-c-koo-4-40k allowed me to borrow Pyrus for this fic! And @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan has allowed me to borrow Chaplain Captain Petras Thank you

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @whorety-k @the-pure-angel

Warnings: mention of abuse of power

Summary: Cedric has a chat with Pyrus in the base’s forge and later runs into some young intruders.

Cedric hummed softly as he made his way over to where the supplies for cleaning the base were stored. It was early in the morning, and he had privately completed the morning prayers that had been a daily routine for him, ever since he had been sent to the Black Templars. He missed the morning group prayer sessions, as well as the sermons that one of the chaplains would give, which were usually filled with fire and wrathful encouragement, as well as the morning vespers that everyone participated in.

But the older brothers he had been taken in by on Ancient Terra found worship of the God Emperor to be discomforting at best, and actively discouraged him and seemed deeply distressed about it at worst. So Cedric tried to curtail his worship of the Emperor publicly, so as to not further irritate and distress his older Brothers and Cousins. He mentally went over the list of punitive chores he’d been assigned, knowing that he should be able to get them done within a couple of hours if he wasn’t interrupted by anything.

He swept and mopped the floors of the most high-traffic areas of the base, before moving to check on the forge. Pyrus and a group of his older brother had been staying at the base for a couple of weeks, and one of the additional duties he’d been given while the group of wandering Salamanders were at the base was to make sure all of the materials that they needed were stocked each morning.

Cedric wasn’t expecting anyone to be in the forges at this time of morning - when the sun had barely started to rise over the eastern horizon - but he could see Pyrus steadily working away on something and moved so that he could be heard, but hopefully not loud enough to startle the Salamander Scout as he worked.

The young Black Templar moved over to where the smithing supplies were stored, doing a quick but thorough inventory check, before pulling out more of the supplies that had been used up the day before, humming to himself a little as he worked, the steady beat of Pyrus’ hammer blows on whatever it was he was working on providing an excellent beat.

He hadn’t realized he’d actually started to sing quietly until he realized that Pyrus’ rhythmic hammer blows had stopped. Cedric felt his ears warm with embarrassment as he turned, looking at the Salamander and shuffling his feet a little “I. Ah. Hadn’t intended to start singing. If I bothered you, I apologize.”

“I stopped to listen to you sing. You have a really lovely voice, Cedric. I don’t recognize the tongue you were singing in. Do you mind explaining what the song was about?” Pyrus asked, lifting up his facemask and smiling charmingly at him.

Cedric resisted the urge to fidget with the box in his hands with considerable effort, choosing to put it where it was supposed to go as he answered with a quiet “It’s one of the war-songs of my chapter. What are you working on?”

“It sounded rousing! Oh! This? I’m working on a forge project that my sergeant assigned to me. I’ve been working on it for… A few hours, I think? I kind of lose track of time when I’m forging, haha. What time is it?” Pyrus asked, lifting the partially finished blade.

“It’s just after dawn. Have you had anything to eat or drink, since you started forging?” Cedric asked, looking the other over carefully, a slight frown appearing on his face as his medical training kicked in - as well as the understanding that many a brother could accidentally forgo both sleep and food when intensely focused on a task at hand. He carefully approached the Salamander, offering him a waterbottle and a ration bar.

“Err… No. I’ve been working through the night. No wonder I’m starting to feel a little out of it. But I want to make sure that this blade is at a good stopping point, before I leave it. Just another hour or two more and I’ll feel comfortable stepping away from it.” Pyrus answered, ducking his head a little “Oh! Something to eat and drink is nice. Thanks, Ced!”

“You’re welcome. I always have snacks and water on me.” Cedric answered with a small smile. He pulled out a second ration bar and took a bite, to silently encourage the other to eat. Pyrus wasn’t the first Brother-Cousin he’d met who forgot to eat when absorbed in a task, and as an Apothecary it was his job to ensure the physical well being of those around him.

Pyrus swiftly devoured the ration bar and downed the water bottle in three large gulps. He looked longingly at the ration bar in Cedric’s hand before asking “I know why I’m up so early - I didn’t go to sleep last night, working on this. But what are you doing up so early?”

“I’ve got punitive chores to complete, and I usually wake up at this time of morning for-” Cedric was about to say morning prayers, but bit off the sentence. He knew that Pyrus was from before The Heresy and wouldn’t likely be comfortable with the thought of another Space Marine indulging in worship of the divine. “-chapter specific practices, and the sooner I get my punitive chores completed in the day, the sooner I can start on the training lessons that they’ve assigned to me to keep me out of trouble.”

“Ah, okay!” Pyrus hummed, nodding a little in understanding “... Why do you have punitive chores?”

“I tackled a Slaaneshi asshole dripping incredibly toxic poison everywhere and refused to apologize because I was somehow supposed to know that he would cooperate with me if I told him to shove his hands into empty jars to keep the toxin dripping from his claws from causing horrific amounts of problems.” Cedric answered honestly. He was still entirely unrepentant for his actions.

He tentatively believed that the situation on Ancient Terra was much different than it was in the 42nd century regarding the relations between most chaos astartes and most loyalists… But he hadn’t known that then, and there were still those who were ruthless, vicious bastards who took pleasure in tormenting both Loyalists and the baseline humans who lived on Ancient Terra. “I haven’t been able to explore outside of the base for the past couple of months… The end of my time grounded indoors should be ending soon.”

“Are you excited to finally be able to explore more of Ancient Terra soon?” Pyrus asked, grinning happily at Cedric as he went back to working on the sword he’d been forging for hours “and I understand your caution of chaos astartes! Most of them are really dangerous and terrifying. Especially for astartes.”

“I… I am curious as to what it’s like outside of this base.” Cedric admitted. He was also somewhat apprehensive about the idea of leaving the base… but it was a challenge he was going to face head-on. “I hope that your smithing project goes well. I’ve got to finish restocking the forge, among my other tasks.”

“Okay! Stop by here if you want to talk later. I’m going to be at this for a good while longer yet.” Pyrus answered with a cheerful grin.

Cedric nodded and headed towards the back of the forge, completing the restocking of the forge before heading off to complete his punitive chores for the day.

Several hours later and Cedric had completed his punishment chores for the day. He was walking towards the training rooms when he heard several new voices, whispering to each other, their hearts beating loudly, their scents filled with terror. “Hello?” Cedric called out, heading to the source of the frantic whispering and fear, concerned and mildly puzzled.

The whispering stopped and he heard several sets of footsteps - too light and too small to be Astartes - start running away from him.

Puzzled by this and truly curious now, Cedric chases after the sounds of running feet, moving at a quick pace that would overtake them, but nowhere near his top speed, following them through the base until the people he were chasing took yet another (likely wrong) turn into one of the dead-end rooms of the base.

There were a half dozen baseline human teenagers huddled together in one corner of the room that Cedric had stepped into. The young apothecary looked at them, utterly perplexed to see them here. None of them were, to his knowledge, bonded to any of the space marines who were living in or visiting this base, nor were they family members of said bonded humans. They were whispering at each other in one of the native Ancient Terran languages, their eyes huge as they looked him over repeatedly.

Cedric was in his black and white scrubs, having yet to be able to get so much as a pauldron of armor - Astartes Armor was hard to come by on Ancient Terra - and though he was taller and bulkier than most firstborn marines out of armor, he probably looked less threatening than the firstborn Brothers and Cousins who were in their armor and had their weapons at their sides. He switched to one of the more common Ancient Terran languages that he’d been dutifully learning and tried again “Hello? Who are you? Are you lost?”

The baseline human teenagers whispered amongst each other, before one of them stepped forward. They had short, vibrant blue-purple hair and were wearing ripped but clean jeans and similarly ripped but clearly well cared for black t-shirt with a strange image emblazoned on their front. “I… I’m… We… We are lost, yes! Who are you? Do you… Do you know how to get out of here? We uhm… We’d like to leave the base now. Do you know this place well?”

“I know most of this base pretty well, since I’ve been stuck here for several months. Got grounded for mischief.” Cedric admitted with a sigh “Follow me, I will lead you to one of the exits.”

“Oh, no need for an official exit! Just show us to an outside facing window that leads off-base and we’ll be good!” One of the other teens - a dark haired human with darker eyes chirped nervously. “What do you mean by stuck on base?”

The young apothecary slowly looked this small group of teens over, something that he’d been told in one of the safety briefs coming to him “I am an Astartes, a Space marine. Sometimes we get confined to base for Reasons by our superiors… Are you… Supposed to be here? Or did you sneak in?”

All of the teens looked very nervous and anxious at his question, muttering softly to each other before the blue haired teen said “We… We broke into the base on a dare. But we weren’t going to do anything bad! We’re just… So curious about this place and all of you and there are so many rumors. No harm’s been done… Please let us go? Some of the other Astartes are really mean and scary.”

Cedric managed to hold in a snort. Yes, firstborns could be utterly terrifying… And he couldn't truly fault them for their curiosity, though an excess of curiosity was a sin against the God Emperor. “I thought you wanted to leave the base.”

“We do! We do… We won’t come back unless invited, promise!” One of the other teens blurted out, a pleading look on their face

The young Black Templar thought about their request for a couple of moments. On one hand, mercy was something that could be more frequently shown on Ancient Terra, and were their positions reversed, Cedric couldn’t say that he wouldn’t break into a place that he’d been expressly forbidden to go, but yet others were allowed in due to some mythical nonsense. But… If they weren’t disciplined for their misbehavior, they would be more tempted to do so again. “I could… Perhaps… Be convinced not to tell my older brothers that you broke in… But, you will all need to promise me and truly mean it that you will not break into this or any other astartes base again.”

The teens fidgeted before one of them asked “Other than it being Astartes property, why is it so important to not break in? You guys take up so much room and are so secretive and mysterious! Astartes started appearing on Earth a hundred years ago and no one knows why or how.”

“Because not all Astartes bases are as nice as this one is. You have heard of Chaos astartes, yes? Maybe even seen them?” Cedric responded, guiding them towards where he knew one of the Chaplains who lived on base was likely to be. These humans did need proper censure, but he didn’t want to scare them too much. “They may act... Nice. Docile. But they are not. They are dangerous and corrosive to the soul and mind.”

One of the other teenagers grumbled “You sound like my aunt’s Black Templar.”

Cedric preened a little, smiling “That isn’t surprising, considering the fact that I am a black templar.”

“But… You’re not in armor?” The teenager grumbled, as the others gasped in surprise.

“No, as I did not arrive on this world in Armor. I did not come here of my own free will, nor do I know how I arrived on this world.” Cedric answered, uncertain as to just what he should reveal to these young humans. They were getting close to both an exit and where he could hear Chaplain Feldarim speaking to someone.

The baseline humans wouldn’t be able to hear either of the older astartes, but Cedric knew that the group he was leading was almost within most firstborn Astartes’ hearing range when he heard the other older Astartes speak.

“-nd you’re saying that this particular Black Templar is fairly young? Is there anything else about him that I should know?” A horribly familiar voice rumbled from the depths of some of Cedric’s worst nightmares rang through his ears, freezing his hearts in place.

“Have you heard much about Primaris Astartes?” Feldarim asked, the Iron Fist Chaplain seemingly oblivious as to just who he was talking to.

“... I have heard some things about them.” Chaplain Captain Petras rumbled, a note of amusement in his voice.

“Are you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out?” The blue haired human teenager asked, having suddenly gotten very close to Cedric, having gone up on their tiptoes and gently started poking one of his cheeks.

The young apothecary began to shake, full-body tremors as he rapidly reconsidered what he was planning on doing. While Chaplain Feldarim was surprisingly kind and soft-handed with his punishments, Petras wasn’t. Cedric had no idea what the Black Templar Chaplain would do to these baseline human teenagers, but it would be ugly. His voice dropped to a whisper when he said “I… Someone very dangerous is close by. I don’t think he’s aware we are here yet, but we need to be careful. I can easily lift and carry all four of you to an outwards facing window, but you cannot return here. For your own safety… You must leave and never return.”

“Jesus fuck, who is this guy? I’ve never seen an astartes this scared before.” The brown haired teenager murmured, their eyes wide, their voice quiet.

“I… He… He’s…” Cedric shuddered, scooping up the human teenagers and sprinting half-way across the base, making sure to evade his older Brothers and Cousins and knowing where to avoid the cameras that watched the base corridors. “When he’s had power over my fellow primaris brothers, he used it to beat and cull us when we weren’t up to his standards. I do not know what he would do to intruders, but you must go before he catches you.”

The fear emanating from the teenage humans intensifies, as does the rapid beating of their hearts. The blue haired human teen squeezes one of Cedric’s shoulders and asks “Why don’t you come with us? He’s an awful shithead, and the place I’m crashing at does have accommodations for Astartes. You don’t have to stay here, if they’re hurting you.”

Cedric shook his head, struggling to contain the tears in his eyes. “No, I must stay. They would find me if I ran, and Templars do not shy away from challenges. No matter the odds. I must face this trial set before me.”

“I… If you’re sure. My name’s Crystal, and I live in the group home on Seventeenth and Sterling if you change your mind.” The blue haired teenager responded with a small, sad smile on their face.

Cedric nodded “I’ll keep your offer in mind. My name’s Cedric.” He reached up, opening the window and helping each of the baseline teenagers onto the window ledge “The drop shouldn’t be too much, especially if you tuck and roll through it, to reduce the amount of shock on your bones. Try to stay low in the grass, you’ll avoid detection longer that way. Once you hit the property line you’re unlikely to be chased.”

“Right, tuck and roll to the ground. Thanks, Cedric!” Crystal murmured, leaping out of the window and rolling through the waist high to most astartes grass, staying crouched low as he’d suggested. The other three teenage humans followed after their friend.

Cedric watched the tell-tale movements of the grass as the teens scuttle-crawled their way out of Astartes territory, breathing a sigh of relief as they wriggled their way through the holes in the fence. He’d dutifully report that there was a gap in the fence that needed to be properly fortified, but he was glad that the human teenagers were safely away.

“Cedric?” Ash’val called out from behind him “What are you doing?”

The young apothecary couldn’t help the guilty-startled squeak that left him as he spun on his heel to look at the firstborn Salamander, suddenly aware of the fact that it could be assumed that he might have been tempted to sneak out of the base. Again. Though the last time he’d done that, it was to rescue a half-dead brother-cousin who’d called out for his help. Claude has since fully healed, but Cedric had been scolded for not telling anyone before running off to go patch up an injured Astartes. “I… Uhm… Enjoying the fresh air from the window?” he couldn’t quite look the older Space marine in the eyes as he said that.

“Uh huh. Did you receive another distress call from one of your fellow Primaris Astartes?” Ash’val asked, moving slowly and deliberately closer to Cedric.

“No sir.” Cedric answered honestly, his throat so incredibly dry.

“Were you planning on going out that window? Please be honest with me, Cedric.” the scout captain asked, voice firm but kind.

“No sir.” Cedric answered earnestly, shaking his head for emphasis.

“... Alright. I’ll choose to believe that you’re telling me the truth. If you do want to go outside, please ask. I can understand wanting to feel real sunlight on your skin, and I am well aware of the fact that Black Templars are a fleet-based chapter and tend to enjoy wandering a great deal. Speaking of, I’d like to introduce you to a visiting Black Templar. He’s a first born, but he’s been on Ancient Terra for several years now.” Ash’val said, gesturing for Cedric to follow.

“Yes sir.” Cedric agreed obediently, following after the Salamander, his hearts heavy. He thought that Petras had been killed by High Marshal Helbrecht during the Settling Of The Schism, but apparently not. Still, he held his head high, hands clasped behind his back to hide the way they were trembling in anxious anticipation.

#oc: cedric #oc: feldarim #oc: petras #oc: pyrus #black templar #imperial fist #salamander #warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #my writing #oc: ash'val

24 notes · View notes

exrayspex · 1 year ago

Text

more naclyoho

since i made progress but did not finish my mending project on the 3rd, i finished it on the 4th. where before there were holes and worn fabric, there is now fun embroidery!

love how it turned out! i'd like to figure out how to fix and protect those ragged stretchy cuff ends too, but that's a project for another time. i also cleaned the toilet bowls.

on the 5th i washed another window's blinds! very slowly, with many breaks, bc what a fucking task lol. that window is taller than me 🫠. but that's 2 windows done! i swept and washed the sill and the floor underneath while i was down there, too, so I won't have to move the piece of furniture that goes in front of it again, if i clean the rest of that floor soon (a big if, but less big for having done that).

today/the 6th, i did some dusting and added in a few high up spots that can't be easily reached and were therefore Very dusty. i wasn't willing to get out a ladder today but i was willing to stand on tiptoe and/or the stairs and really reach, and some stuff's cleaner than it's been in a while for it. also got what I could reach of some wall, which shouldn't be allowed to get dusty, and yet!

#naclyoho #visible mending #i could've reached much more wall if i'd gotten out the floor duster and more high spots if i'd gotten out the ladder #but i had momentum with the hand duster and only the hand duster #and i know by now it's best to just go with it and be happy i did what i did than to stop and try to do it 'properly'#bc if I stop I just won't do it at all #and working with yourself like that seems to be very much in the spirit of this whole thing #which is what attracted me to it in the first place!

54 notes · View notes

ghulehunknown · 1 year ago

Text

Papal Punishments

Secondo x GN!Reader

Day 10 of KINKTOBER is here! 🎃

**WARNING - EXPLICIT, NSFW**

Also available on AO3!

“Punished by Papa”

Summary: You go to the Ministry Halloween party wearing your sluttiest costume and of course Papa punishes you for looking so sexy and attracting everyone’s attention, he can’t stand it

CW/Tags: gender neutral reader, clothed male/partially nude reader, roleplay, spanking, slapping, whipping, spitting, degradation, fingering, edging, masturbation, zero aftercare

Word Count: 2069 (nice)

“Did you really think you could hide from me all evening, tesoro?” said Secondo, glowering at you.

You flashed him a coy look; your plan to fluster him all evening at the Ministry’s Halloween party worked. You were supposed to attend in your spookiest of outfits, but you ended up in something a little saucier: a bunny costume, complete with a black corset bodysuit, ears, and fishnet tights.

You waltzed through the halls of the Ministry, drinking and flirting with the Ghouls and other Siblings as the Monster Mash blared in the background.

Alpha looked the cutest, dressing up as a little devil, his whiplike tail blending in for the most realistic costume. The two of you had exchanged glances before, but never acted on whatever tension there was between you. Now that you were with Papa, you would never dare jeopardize what you had with him…but that didn’t mean you couldn’t look. Perhaps tease him, or even pique his interest in inviting a Ghoul to your bed. And by Lucifer’s grace, Papa had noticed. Though truthfully, you weren’t really hiding it.

He cornered you down a hallway, backing you up against a wall. “I said, ‘Did you think you could hide from me?’” he repeated.

You didn’t respond immediately, pondering your options. “Absence does make the heart grow fonder,” you said, taking a sip from your cocktail slowly. Papa went for a classic Dracula look this evening, though not changing his usual Papal makeup much.

He spat out the fake vampire teeth into his hand. “Or it makes your Papa impatient. And you do not wish to see me be a cruel man, do you caro/cara?”

“What does that look like, handsome?” you asked, trailing your fingers up the buttons on his cloak and feeling his muscley pectorals.

“I could rip this corset off you in an instant, make an example of you to the Clergy. Then you would find out what happens to disobedient Siblings who leave their Papa in such a helpless state,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

You looked down and thought you could see a small tent forming in Secondo’s trousers, and smirked. “It sounds like a good time. But, I think my shame should be in private this time around.”

“I expect you to be in my chamber in five minutes. I suggest you don’t be late.” He swept off down the corridor, leaving you breathless, a tingling sensation creeping below your navel. Like butterflies, without the anxiety - you always felt safe with Papa. No matter how much he pretended to be a cold bastard, you knew how warm he truly was.

You swallowed what was left in your cocktail glass for some liquid courage and made your way down the halls, talking yourself up the whole way there. You knocked on the giant oak door, heart pounding wildly.

“Come,” he called, his voice projecting surprisingly well through the thick door. You turned the brass knob, prepared for anything. Not much had changed from the last time you visited his room, except this time Papa was fully clothed with a whip in hand. He was clapping it against his hand menacingly as he stood beside his large leather chair. He had shed his cloak and rolled up his sleeves, the veins in his arms protruding everytime he palmed the whip.

“Kneel,” he said, pointing to the floor by his feet. You obeyed, getting down on your knees and looking up at him. He looked down at you, a sneer on his face, almost a look of disgust.

“Have I disappointed you, Papa?” you asked shyly.

“Hush, puttana,” he warned. “You know exactly what you’ve done. Anymore cheek and you’ll receive a slap on it.”

“But I - ” you started but got the wind knocked out of you with the ends of his fingers striking you across the face.

“I said silence. You will be receiving your punishments this evening, is that clear?” You nodded. He knelt down to firmly grasp your chin in his hand and continued. “You know damn well I could give a shit who you fuck. But don’t you dare parade it around in front of me like I am some old fool.” He spat in your face then released you with such force you flew to the floor and threw your hands out to brace the impact.

You sat up and rubbed your face, still stinging.

“Have you fucked him?” he asked, leaning against the chair.

“Who?”

“Are you stupid now too as well as a whore? You know who I mean. Alpha.”

Your heart sank. “No, Papa, I swear - ”

“Not yet, then,” he said, pondering and pacing around you.

What? Did he want you to fuck Alpha?

“How many times do I have to tell you caro/cara? I do not care who you fuck or how many times, but do not presume to think I am unaware. There is no use in hiding, when truthfully I would rather you waste someone else’s time than mine.”

Ouch. You swallowed the wad of saliva in your throat, almost forgetting to breathe and swallow at all.

“Is that the issue, Papa? I will be more forthcoming in the future…”

“The issue is, my little problem,” he started. Were you his ‘little problem’? “ - that I have been thinking of fucking you all day, and here you are parading your ass around. And you are just too fucking sexy to not take care of this…big problem.”

“And how do I fix this ‘big problem,’ as you call it?”

He snapped and pointed at his feet, the shiny leather of his shoes slightly scuffed. You crawled over to him, and began to kiss his shoes, working your way up, almost eye level with his big problem - until he snatched you by the hair and pulled you away. He dragged you a few feet over to the chair, tossing you over one of the arms.

He grabbed the whip from the other arm of the chair and threw himself into the lounge. He grabbed your legs and draped you over him, your ass cheeks peeking out of your bodysuit. He hiked up the bottoms into your crack, exposing more of your cheeks and the fishnets underneath.

You gripped into the leather arm of the chair as if your life depended on it, bracing yourself for what was to come.

“Are you ready, puttana?” asked Secondo. You nodded, waiting. A loud clap rang through the room, as he struck you with the palm of his hand.

Okay, not so bad - holy shit! You thought too soon, his hand coming down on you again with much more force the second and third times. The brass beads embedded into the seams of the arm were also leaving their own indentations into your fingers from how hard you were holding on.

“Ah shit, Papa!” you cried, hissing an inhale through your teeth. He spanked you again for your exclamation and foul mouth. He unclasped the buttons on the crotch of your bodysuit, roughly pulling it up your body and grabbing your cheeks and massaging them, then smacking them each again.

He grabbed the whip and trailed it along your body, then between your thighs to the sensitive flesh between them, teasing and tickling you along your entrance. You gasped and let out a moan - until he spanked you with it - hard.

“Are you enjoying this, mm? Is my little slut enjoying their punishment?” he said, cracking the whip against you again.

“Ah!” you exclaimed, not sure if you were supposed to answer or not.

“I can’t hear you.” Smack.

“Yes, Papa!” you cried. Smack!

He gripped your fishnets in his hands and said, “These will have to fucking go,” ripping them apart in between your legs. Now there was easy access into your nether regions.

Damn, there went $12.

He spat into his hand and inserted two fingers inside your entrance, feeling you clench around him. When you moaned involuntarily, he retracted his fingers and smacked you on the ass again. You could tell your rear would be red for quite a while.

“Hands on the floor,” he said gruffly, grabbing onto your legs. Carefully you moved so you were reverse straddling him, your entrance almost level with his cock, now protruding from under his trousers and poking you in the groin. Your shins laid flat against his chest, your high heels resting on his shoulders. You held yourself steady, palms to the wood floor - though you didn’t need to use all your upper body strength as he tucked your knees under his elbows.

He gripped onto your cheeks and rubbed them soothingly, then massaged your muscles deeper before smacking you again. Each time instinctively you clenched as he struck you, eliciting a secondary smack from him.

“So tense, caro/cara,” he remarked, slipping his fingers into you once more. Again you clenched around him but as he pumped in and out of you, your body started to relax. Until, that was, he repeatedly removed his fingers to slap you square across your behind again. He repeated these motions over and over, changing up the speed he was fingering you and for how long, so you never knew when to expect the relentless assault on your rear end.

Again and again he fingered you almost to completion, just stopping short each time to give your ass another spank, judging by how quick your breathing got each time.

“P-please, Papa,” you cried after what felt like an hour, your arms shaking as you continued to hold yourself up, resting yourself against his legs from time to time.

“Please what?”

“P-please let me c-cum,” you said, trembling.

“And why should I do that? I like seeing you here, vulnerable and begging.” He paused in thought before clapping your cheek again, though not hard at all this time. Still out of fear it would be a harder spank, you shook as he touched you. “Beg.”

“Mm?” you said.

“You heard me - or are you stupid? Beg for it.”

“Please Papa,” you said barely above a whisper.

“I can’t hear you. If you are worth my time at all, at least be heard.”

“Please Papa!”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum, Papa!” you practically screamed this time.

He inserted three fingers inside you this time, knowing by feeling that familiar stretch pull you apart like putty in his hands. He groaned as he humped his clothed erection against your sensitive bud in front and mercilessly fingered you from behind, this time to your completion.

You almost slid off his lap as your whole body shook, your orgasm practically exploding over you like fireworks - but he held onto you tightly. Until, that is, your breathing returned to normal and he released you from his grasp, letting you fall to the floor in your exhaustion.

He stood up and looked down at you with a sneer, one hand on his hip, the other on his cock - somehow already out of his pants. He began to stroke himself steadily, staring you down as you watched wide eyed below him.

You scrambled to your knees with an open mouth, leaning in to take his thick member and get face fucked. You practically salivated at the piercings lined up along his shaft, waiting to taste metal. Instead he pushed your head away and tossed you back to the floor.

“Who said you could touch me, puttana? Open,” he instructed.

You sat patiently with your mouth open while he continued to pleasure himself in front of you, moving swiftly and smoothly up and down. Lucifer, he had to be at least 8 inches - maybe even 9 - with a girth you knew would fucking hurt. He leaned down towards you, steadying himself by gripping your hair and pumping long warm strands of cum all over your face - grunting roughly while doing so. You happily licked his juices off your face, longing for more when you cleaned yourself of him.

He continued to look over his nose at you while he adjusted himself back in his pants. Turning on his heel, he walked to another part of his room to sort through some papers and pretended you were no longer there. You sniffled and readjusted yourself, buttoning the clasps of your bodysuit back up before awkwardly waddling out of his door and making the walk of shame down the hallway.

Italian to English Translation

tesoro (treasure)

caro/cara (dear)

puttana (whore)

#ghost band smut #ghost bc #papa emeritus x reader #ghost band fanfic #papa secondo #secondo emeritus #secondo x reader #papa emeritus ii x reader #secondo smut #kinktober 2023 #the band ghost

93 notes · View notes

betweenthings2 · 3 months ago

Note

Love to see some gatty stories from the fluff prompts - 12,18,42 & 45!

Thank you for the ask!! I'm so sorry you waited like five months for this--I don't have a good or new excuse, but the prompt list is here if anyone else wants to see it =)

In other news, I'm alive and back, sort of. I'm done working, but I start law school tomorrow (!!!!!!!). I am going to work to care out time to write, but I have no idea what the work load is going to be like, so bare with me for a little bit longer. Have these prompts as a peace offering of sorts. I do recognize that they're supposed to be fluffy, however, we all know what happens when I try to write fluff. I sincerely hope y’all enjoy these, though. I’m a little out of practice.

Anyway, fluff prompts 12. “I wish you could see the way I see you,” 18. “My parents love you,” 42. “You remembered my birthday?” and 45. “Come on, love, let’s get you home.”

“I wish you could see the way I see you."

It always catches Matty off guard when George gets into his own head and starts doubting things. In Matty's mind, George is amazing, brilliant, perfect, and it is fundamentally wrong for him to feel like he's not. Still, Matty is sympathetic and does his best. He comes behind and listens to George's abandoned projects and offers input and compliments, picks up the slack around the house, offers to take care of things that George usually does. George hardly ever accepts Matty's offers, in part because there's a reason that George does the tasks he does around the house rather than Matty, but also because he insists on trying to keep a routine even when he gets into his own head.

Things settle into a routine of abbreviation. The floors are swept, but not mopped. The flower beds and garden get watered, but not weeded. Dinner is made but it's simple, easy. George's laptop stays shut on his desk. Matty tries to pick up the slack, but George just tells him not to, or tries to take over, so Matty does his best to let it be. It's not unfamiliar but it is uncomfortable.

It gets unfamiliar when things become even more abbreviated. The sweeping is half-hearted. Matty takes over watering the flower beds and garden when George struggles to do it regularly. Cooking turns into take out, leftovers packed into the fridge. George's phone joins his laptop, untouched and abandoned. Matty picks up the slack, because that's about all he can do. He brings George tea, excuses them from social occasions, does the laundry the way George likes it done. He tries.

And then George stops even trying to do things, and Matty feels like the floor has dropped out from under him. George isn't supposed to be this sad. George isn't supposed to feel like everything is hopelessly overwhelming and impossible to face. Matty feels like that sometimes, but George isn't supposed to feel like that. George is larger than life, extraordinary. He shouldn't feel so small.

Still, Matty does is best to help George feel better. He's done this before. They've been through this before and Matty does his best. The problem is that George is uneager to accept Matty's care. Matty tries not to let that frustrate him--he knows he does the same. It's just hard a to see the person he loves unhappy and trying to reject his care.

"I wish you could see the way I see you," Matty murmurs one afternoon when he brings George. "I wish you could see you thorough my eyes."

"I know how you see me, Matty," George responds. It seems a little like he should say more, but he doesn't.

Matty sighs and shakes his head. "I think you know how you think I see you, but it's not accurate. What is it that you're always telling me? That I have a warped perspective of myself?"

"You do sometimes," George agrees. "But that's not what happening here."

"Yeah, it is," Matty says.

"Can you just leave me alone?"

"George," Matty murmurs, sitting on the edge of the bed, "that's not going to help."

"I don't care."

"I promise you, company will help. Getting out of bed will help."

"Please, just leave me alone, Matty. I want to be alone."

Matty sighs, but stands up and says, "Alright. But I'm here if you need anything."

George doesn't say anything more, so Matty goes, pulling the bedroom door closed behind him.

----

“My parents love you."

"Ready to go?"

Matty pauses, glancing up from his phone where he's seated on the couch. "Are you sure you want me to come?"

"'course I want you to come. Why wouldn't I?"

Matty offers a half shrug, but he doesn't say anything, just looks back down at his phone.

George sighs and abandons his suitcase by the door, next to Matty's, going to sit next to him. "C'mon, love," he urges. "Why wouldn't I want you to come?"

Matty shrugs again, but he locks his phone and sets it aside, mumbling, "'s stupid."

"It's not stupid if it upsets you," George tries.

"'s just," Matty pauses, "Do you want me there? Does your family? Do your parents? It's your family reunion. I'm not, well, I'm not your family."

"Yes, you are. How long have we known each other? How long have we been together?"

"A long time," Matty mumbles. "But do you want me there? With your family? I'm kind of a liability."

George reaches out and reaches out to cradle Matty's jaw, running a thumb over his cheekbone and says, "'course I want you there. Matty, I always want you around. "

"But what about your family?" Matty presses. "I mean, it always felt like your parents thought I was a bad influence and didn't really want me around you and I haven't seen your parents since before and-"

"Matty, my parents love you. My mum kept asking if you were coming," George tries. "Look, you don't have to come if you don't want to, but I want you to and my family wants you to."

"Are you sure?" Matty asks. "Maybe they’re just saying that. Maybe they hate me but they don't want to say that to you."

"They love you. My mum told me to bring you. They want to see you. Maybe more than they want to see me."

"'s the long con," Matty mumbles, gaze on his knees.

George frowns and sighs. "What's up? What's on your mind?"

Matty shrugs. "I, erm, I," he pauses, then repeats, "I haven't seen your parents since before and people generally kinda hated me then. I mean, I did heroin in your parents' powder room last time we visited them. They should hate me."

George's expression falters. Matty is fairly certain his candor in discussing some of the of the less palatable aspects of his addiction makes George a little bit uncomfortable. He hasn’t said anything, of course, but Matty can tell.

"That makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it?" Matty asks. "When I say stuff like that?" He's pretty sure this is going to start an argument, but he has all this pent up, unsettled energy. Part of him, the self sabotaging, untrusting part, wants to see what will happen if he pushes.

"Why should they hate you?" George asks, ignoring Matty's question.

"Are you avoiding my question?" Matty counters.

"It breaks my heart every time you say something like that," George answers, "because it reminds me how close we were, how close I was, to losing you." He pauses, then, "Now it's your turn to answer."

Matty sighs and looks down to admit, "'cause I brought that into their house, I did that in their house. 'cause I was high in their house. They invited me into their home and I repaid them by being a fucking junkie."

"I'm pretty sure they don't know about that," George tries. "And if they do, they don't care."

"Then they're stupid," Matty mumbles. He's beginning to feel petulant and like he needs to make a point, like he needs to somehow upset George.

George just raises his brow and says, "Really?"

Matty nods.

"Alright," George says.

"Can you just be upset when I say things that should make you upset?"

"Will fighting make you feel better?"

Matty nods again, doing his very best to not let himself smile. He knows exactly where George is going with this because Matty does this sometimes--tries to pick a fight because he's insecure.

"Just to clarify," George starts, "you'll feel better if we fight?"

"'k, when you say it like that, it sounds stupid," Matty complains.

George chuckles and says, "Well, it is a little silly."

"Are you absolutely, completely, one-hundred percent sure your family wants me there?"

George nods. "They love you Matty. I'm sure. And," he pauses to tuck a curl behind Matty's ear, "I love you."

Matty leans into George's touch and mumbles, "Love you, too. Thanks. Sorry. Thanks."

"I love you," George repeats. "You're family. Always have been.

----

“You remembered my birthday?”

Matty has quit trying to make a big deal of his birthday as he's gotten older. His parents are busy and argue if they're in the same room for too long and Louis is a toddler and takes up most of the attention. He doesn't exactly resent any of that. He gets that it's life and this is how things go. He just, well, he wishes that sometimes things could be about him, too.

This birthday is no different. When Matty goes downstairs to head to school, the house is quiet and seemingly empty. He can's say he really expected anything else, but it still stings. He takes the pack of cigarettes in his mum's purse on his way out the door, a less than even halfhearted effort to prove a point. He's not sure what the point is. Maybe he's just hurt.

Matty lights a cigarette as soon as he's out of sight of his house. He doesn't blame his parents. He doesn't, he tells himself. He has a good life. His needs and wants are met. People love him and care about him. He's not upset. He's not.

When Matty turns from his side street to the street out of his neighborhood, George is there, waiting for him, like always.

"Happy birthday!" George says as soon as he sees Matty.

Matty pauses. "What?"

"It's your birthday," he says. "Happy birthday!"

Matty is quiet for a moment, then very quietly asks, "You remembered my birthday?"

"'course I did," George answers. "How could I not?"

"I, uh, well, I, I guess I didn't think you would." Matty pauses, then, "No one else did. Not yet, at least."

"Matty," George sighs. "You deserve better than that."

"'s not their fault," Matty tries. "My parents are working and Louis needs more attention than I do, and 's fine. I'm not upset."

"They should remember your birthday," George insists, hurt on Matty's behalf. "It's your birthday."

"So you've said," Matty mumbles, looking at the ground. He glances up and, a little louder, adds, "'s fine. 's not a big deal. I'm fine, really."

"No, you're not," George counters. "You look like a kicked puppy."

Matty just shrugs, gaze firmly back on the ground.

"Come on," George decides, taking Matty's arm and pulling him along.

"George," Matty protests. "Stop it. I don't wanna go anywhere. I wasn't even gonna go to school."

"Good, 'cause we're not going to school," George responds, still pulling Matty along with him.

Matty stops in the middle of the sidewalk, wrenching his arm out of George's grasp. If he wanted to, George could make Matty move--he's bigger than Matty and has been for a long time--but Matty's pretty sure he's not going to. "Where ae we going?" Matty asks. "At least have the decency to let me be miserable on my own."

"We're going back to mine," George answers. "My parents are out of town and we're gonna get stoned and order way too much takeaway and I'm going to give you your present, are you are going to remember that you are important to people."

Matty is quiet for a moment, then he asks, "You got me a present?"

George nods. "I'm pretty sure that's what people do. Get people they care about birthday presents."

Matty is quiet for another moment, trying to find the words, but they don't come and instead he just flings himself against George hugging him tight and saying, "I really kind of love you."

"I really kind of love you, too, Matty," George responds. "And I promise I'll never forget your birthday."

"You really promise?" Matty asks.

"Yeah, I really promise," George echoes.

----

“Come on, love, let’s get you home.”

Matty is elated as he walks off stage. It was a great show, one of the best they've ever done, Matty is sure, and George is right next to him, keeping an even pace as they walk. Ross and Hann are right there, too, at Matty's other side, all of them together and good. Everything is good. As soon as they're out of sight of the crowd, George wraps a tight, possessive arm around Matty's waist to hold him close, the bare skin of his arm slightly sticky against Matty's bare, sweaty back. Performing always make George a little bit possessive, especially when it's a show at home, in London. There are all those people who are there for The 1975, all those people who are there for Matty, all those people who trip over themselves for the smallest chance that Matty will notice them, all those people who want nothing more than for Matty to notice them.

Matty leans into George's side a bit as they walk, a reminder that he's George's and no one else's, and murmurs, "George, I wanna go out."

"You wanna go out?" George echoes. "Before the show you were tellin' me all you wanted to do after was sleep."

"I changed my mind," Matty answers, half indignant.

George chuckles, quiet and just for Matty, and says, "You're full of adrenaline, is more like it."

"'m serious," Matty insists. "I wanna go out with you."

"Alright," George agrees. "I'll ask if anyone else wants to come."

Matty gives a small shake of his head. "I wanna go with you, not everyone. Just us."

George presses a kiss into Matty's sweat-damp curls and repeats, "Alright."

They're quick to get out of the dressing room and into a cab from a quiet street behind the venue. Matty's still a restless ball of energy, chattering on and on about the show and how they could make it even better and how it was amazing and so on. George just offers a fond smile, interjecting when Matty pauses or asks a question, more than content to let Matty talk.

The cab lets them out at a bar they tend to frequent, especially after performances or at the end of tours, a little bit out of the way, but always busy and always good. They pay the cabbie and George pulls Matty close again as they walk inside and find seats in a booth. Matty stays animated and talkative through drinks one and two, but they're about halfway through drink number when he starts to crash. He yawns and shifts in his seat, doing his very best to appear wide awake, lest he be forced to admit George was right. George is usually right, Matty just hates to admit it.

George can tell Matty is crashing, of course, but he doesn't say anything lest he wound Matty's pride. Fortunately, he doesn't have to wait long for Matty himself to say something.

"George," Matty says, picking up his glass to finish his drink, "'m tired. George, I'm tired."

George offers another fond smile. "I can tell."

Matty pouts, a very specific pout he does when he gets tired.

"You're over there yawning," George tries. "Seems a little like you might fall asleep in the booth."

Matty's expression doesn't change, but he says, "You're supposed to be nice to me."

George just smiles again, saying, "I'll pay our tab, just give me a minute, ok?" and when Matty nods, he gets up and heads to the bar.

When George comes back, Matty is half asleep in the booth, dark curls flopped over half his face. He looks exhausted and George is struck by a sudden wave of love and emotion as he helps Matty to his feet and wraps an arm around his waist, saying, "Come on love, let's get you home."

Matty nods and lets himself be guided out of the bar by George's arm around him, mumbling, "Thanks G. Love you a lot."

"I love you, too," George murmurs, letting the door fall shut before he presses a kiss to Matty's temple. "I love you, too."

#my fic #matty healy #george daniel #matty x george

16 notes · View notes

leaderpinhead · 19 days ago

Text

Epel - Cursed Snacks

Prompt: Puppet & @flashfictionfridayofficial weekly prompt When you start writing two prompts and somehow lose them both halfway through.

The crack of thunder made Epel jump. All of Ramshackle Dorm shuddered, and the lights in the lounge blinked off for a concerning amount of time. The lights winked back on, allowing Epel to see the others again.

Jack was the only one who glanced out the window at the whipping storm with mild concern. Ortho still projected the movie they had been watching on the far wall of the room. Sebek shouted at the girl in the movie, berating her for entering a house where the killer could easily trap her. Deuce sat on the edge of the couch clutching a pillow to his chest as he unblinkingly watched the movie. Grim, sitting right next to Deuce, sneezed, which made Deuce violently swing the pillow in his direction. Yuu casually moved Grim over her lap to sit on her other side, ignoring his offended yowls.

Ace dug into the bowl of chips resting on the cushion between him and Epel. “Guess that means we’re sleeping over for the night.”

Jack grunted and slumped into the striped recliner. “I figured this would happen. My skin’s been itching all day waiting for it to storm.”

“Why is this human so stupid?” Sebek shouted. He stood from his spot on the floor and pointed at the projection. “He’s in the cupboard! The cupboard!”

Ace threw a fistful of chips at Sebek. “Sit down already. How many times have you been to movie night now? And you’re still acting like they can hear you.”

“The pace of the movie so far has done really well to set up the tension,” Ortho said. The projection expanded to take up more space on the wall, making the large Sebek-shape shadow a bigger hinderance. “The director knew exactly which camera angles would enhance the audience’s immersion. The audio work is equally astounding! By my calculations, I would have chill bumps if I had skin!”

Ace groaned. He reached above Grim’s head to elbow Yuu’s arm. “Why’d you have to go befriend half the campus? Movie nights get more boring every time you invite someone new!”

Lightning flashed outside the windows, and another roll of thunder shook the building. Grim’s yowling lowered to a murmur, and he eyed the window. Sebek’s offended howl almost matched the pitch of the girl in the movie when the killer jumped out of the cupboard with an axe.

“Riddle will be upset with us if we don’t make it back to the dorm before curfew,” Deuce muttered. He seemed better now that Grim’s sneeze had helped him expel most of his tension. “I’m going to message him for permission to sleepover.”

“All of you guys can stay over if you want,” Yuu added. “There’s plenty of room.”

Sebek snorted and stopped berating the girl in the movie on her poor running form long enough to haughtily loom over Yuu. “Lilia may have insisted I regularly experience movie night, but I will not leave Lord Malleus—!”

Another boom of thunder—this one sounding directly overhead—cut off Sebek. The lights flashed again. Yuu looked completely unconvinced when the lights returned. “And you think you’ll be of much use if you get struck by lightning walking to the Hall of Mirrors?”

“Lightning does not concern me.”

“Your lack of common sense concerns me.”

“How dare you question my intelligence!”

"You’re staying here until the storm passes.”

“Let ‘im get swept away in the storm,” Ace insisted. He smirked at the glares Sebek and Yuu gave him. “It’d give us a chance to actually watch a movie the whole way through.”

While Sebek turned on Ace, Epel pulled out his phone. Vil wasn’t as strict as Riddle could be, but Epel was positive Rook would rat him out if he didn’t return to the dorm tonight. There were some fights that even Epel knew weren’t worth fighting, and earning Vil’s wrath just because he stayed out past curfew was one of those.

Vil’s response was almost immediate. “If you must. Remember to moisturize before bed, and absolutely NO late-night snacks.”

Epel smirked. No late-night snacks? Epel hadn’t been able to sneak any non-approved snacks around Vil since he landed in Pomefiore. Now that he had the chance, he was gonna pig out as much as he could. Vil would never know.

Epel reached for the chips. Before he could lift them to his face, his hand involuntarily jerked away from him. Jack grunted when the chips hit him in the face. He glared at Epel, and his ears flattened into his hair. “Watch it.”

“Sorry!” Epel grabbed another handful of chips. His hand jerked again, and Ortho blinked in confusion when crumbs disappeared into the open creases of his Gear. “What the...”

“Is there something wrong Epel Felmier?” Ortho’s question sounded innocently curious. “Food is usually consumed. Not thrown.”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to do!” Epel reached for the chips again. His other arm jerked around to grab the entire bowl. He stared in horror when his body threw it across the room without his consent. “Dagnabbit!”

“Dude,” Ace said, looking torn between being angry and shocked, “what gives?”

“It’s not like Ah’m meanin’ to!” Epel stared at his hands, waiting for them to move without his consent. He flipped his hands several times, but nothing happened. “My arms are jus’...movin’!”

His phone pinged with a new message. He slowly grabbed his phone. When he didn’t involuntarily chuck it at the wall, he quickly navigated to the new message. Vil’s last message to him simply said, “I warned you. I will see you in the ballroom in the morning to break the curse you brought upon yourself.”

Epel groaned and shrunk into the corner of the couch. The storm continued to howl outside the dorm, but he couldn’t even enjoy the rest of the impromptu sleepover. Especially when Ace found a stash of cookies to replace his chips, and he was forced to watch everyone else enjoy them.

#twisted wonderland #twstober #twstober 2024 #epel felmier #when you think you're a rebel #but you're so predictable your housewarden curses you in advance

5 notes · View notes

yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit · 6 months ago

Text

The great regular sleep experiment of 2024 day uh... "too much tea"

Well it turns out that while caffeine helps me sleep fine for my morning slot... Drinking a lot of fluids doesn't...

Other than being up to pee a whole lot, I slept well enough, ended up staying in bed till closer to 3 on account of the getting up to pee a bunch. Lesson learned. That could have gone way worse.

I *think* these sleep shifts are as good as it's going to get. One is even right after morning errands where I get in, put stuff away and want nothing more than to shower and fall into bed.

Also Pumpkin will let me sleep for 4 hours at a time, if it's at times he's used to me doing it and if it doesn't go on much longer than that... Because babies [cats] need to be fed every 4 hours :/ [this one does]

Right now I'm still a bit hyper-thyroid though, and it just got warm out, and I think my immune system is 'activating' against something again, so I have been trying to push myself to do chores if I am going to be awake and feel physically horrible anyway.

I did that thing where after scrubbing the floor yesterday and letting it dry, I swept it again today in greater detail and washed it again. Ooooh aaaah clean floors. Cleaned the toilet, washed dishes, did some sink laundry.

AND I FOUND MY 'O' KEY!!! I have a full keyboard again!

The main thing is I am trying to keep all the cleaning and organizing 1. Quiet and 2. done at a pace I could maintain on most days, because if I get a bee in my bonnet about it and wear myself down, i might get a huge chunk done... I might even get the 'rest' as done as it can be, but then I will crash and have to recover, which might mean falling behind on everything again and breaking any fragile habits, and I don't want to do that...

The only issue I see with this sleep schedule is it tends to take me 4 ish hours to wake up after sleeping and a bit to wind down... So the 5 hours between my sleeps works fine on days where I can spend that 5 hours doing nothing much, but on days where I need to do stuff --that isn't groceries before morning bedtime and crashing-- it means 8 hours spent sleeping, plus the five in between that I can't use, plus another 3 minimum to get running, plus whatever hours I sleep past 2pm because i need extra sleep, and then having those remaining hours be in the middle of the night.

The only other way to approach it is by waking up and immediately throwing myself into doing things before I am awake enough to process anything, like how much it hurts... And that can be okay for basic cleaning, but I am so out-of-it when I first wake up that doing anything with anything heavy or sharp or powered becomes actively dangerous. ... Which is why it usually takes me 4 ish hours to get running because otherwise I am not alert... and that leaves... maybe 7 hours. Mostly being at night will add to my ability to being alert, and those hours would be great for working on art or writing and quiet creative projects, but it's not workable for any kind of tool use, or any heavy cleaning or organizing. [If I had my own house it would be fine]

And the problem is that if I am left with no times of day that are convenient to do a thing... I end up unconsciously avoiding it without realizing what's getting in my way. I KNOW I do that, so I am trying to set myself up for success instead of failure.

My remaining hope is that as I get used to this schedule, if I can keep it without the *symptoms*... I'll start to get alert or sleepy faster when it's appropriate and struggle less to do things during the 5 hours between sleeps.

On the bright side at least I am *mostly* only fighting my own body for this, but not having roommates to also have to work around... Just apartment neighbours.

If I can just get really used to a half-awake 5 hours of misery on any morning I have to get shit done, it'll be mostly fine, probably??

3 notes · View notes

madaboutmunson · 1 year ago

Text

WIP Wednesday

Here is a treat as I haven’t posted something in forever.

[captions welcome]

I went for:

“Eddie doesn’t like the show and he’s gonna make it a problem!”

Other things:

I’m working on a lot of different events and projects right now. I’m still writing a fic that turned into a bit of a beast, but once it’s finished I’ll be posting chapters on a more regular basis for it.

So here is a snippet from that mini beast

ITICHBS (it’s a secret 🤫 😂)

rockstarSteve x photographerEddie

Eddie goes to type back, but he feels the car slow to a stop. A crunch of gravel and muffled voices. Moments later, his door is opened.

"Mr Munson?" The woman asks as Eddie steps out and nods. The car is swarmed by athletic people sporting black security uniforms.

The woman in front of him makes eye contact with her team members and then looks back at him, "Your agent said you were staying?"

"I-I am. Just not here." Eddie says nervously. He was supposed to be, that's what Marney had advised, but Eddie had dug his heels in and got an airport hotel instead, at his own expense, "I'm so bad at waking up for flights, so," he scratches the back of his neck, "the closer, the better."

She folds her arms and levels him with a look before scanning him up and down. "You don't want to spend the night? Stay in Steve Harrington's house?" She almost laughs out the last question.

Eddie figures it's something ingrained in him that is making him nervous with all these official-looking uniforms around him, "Not if I wanna keep this job," he says with a forced laugh, looks down and rubs his stomach, "I should really learn that fast food doesn't always agree with me." He raises his eyes to her to see if his performance has landed, and though he's not sure she believes the story, she seems happy enough to accept it for some reason. She extends her hand to him.

"Buckley. Head of security here for Mr H. This is my team. Get to know their faces and names if you care to. If it's not one of us telling you, it's not mandatory." She says and waves him through the huge ornate gates that slowly open as she signals to the house.

Eddie quirks an eyebrow at that. Mandatory? If it's not one of us? What did that even mean? She didn't look like your typical bodyguard or security guard that Eddie had seen over the years, but knowing he'd be meeting her at the gates, he'd done his research.

Robin Buckley. She'd only ever worked with Harrington, no one before, no one in-between. She wasn't a waif by any stretch of the imagination, but she was not your typical heavy-set build either. However, the footage Eddie had unearthed last night definitely sent the message home that she is not to be fucked with. She easily kept the crazies at bay, and Harrington's humanising posts about how safe he felt with her around, made her a fan favourite. Even though she was often the only thing standing between him and his adoring followers.

He'd seen three times caught on film she'd intercepted a weapon or projectile aimed at Harrington. One effortlessly caught out of the air, cool as anything. Then there was a guy with a gun who had been leg swept to the floor, had his wrist snapped, and was disarmed in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it display of prowess. You could see on the video Harrington hadn't seen any of it. Busy leaning back into the crowd for a selfie at the barrier with a fan's phone. Her team carried that guy away, and she just fell back into step beside him. The third was definitely the most terrifying. Mainly due to the fact, there were so many different views of the same event because it happened whilst Harrington had been singing one of his most famous songs. It looks like a fan rushes the stage, not uncommon, but as Harrington shuts his eyes to croon to the crowd under the spotlight, something catches the light in the fan's hand, and if this had been a movie, you'd swear this would be the singer's last scene. But it wasn't. From out of nowhere, Buckley's big black boot steps into the light and puts the assailant in a choke hold from behind. They were out for the count in seconds and pulled back with her into the darkness.

Hope you liked it 🥰

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddiemunson #eddie stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #fanfiction #eddie munson manip #eddie munson edit #steddie snippet #steddie fan fic #steddie fan fiction #Robin Buckley #bodyguard Buckley #madaboutmunson #madaboutmunson WIP

12 notes · View notes

l-egionaire · 6 months ago

Text

Fanfic preview: What if....Tony Stark got an even BIGGER head?

“Desperation is a powerful force. It can make people do things they’d never imagined doing before.”

In his homes garage workshop, Tony Stark frantically looked through books, files and tablets all containing medical information and treatments from around the world. When he finished going through one, he tossed them away and quickly searched through the next one.

“No….No…No…no…..

The Watcher watched his desperate search, invisible to the Iron Man.

“Tony Stark, a man dying from the very Arc Reactor that was keeping him alive. In your universe, SHIELD and Nick Fury came to Tony’s aid, giving him both a serum to slow his symptoms and a key to finding a cure. Unfortunately, in this universe, SHIELD was preoccupied with an….early arrival….”

The Watcher waved his hand and found himself in the middle of the desert in New Mexico, where Phil Coulson and Nick Fury had gathered a SHIELD team to examine a crater in the ground. In the epicenter of the crater was a large, grey, rectangular metal hammer.

“What….what is that?” Coulson asked.

“It’s a hammer, Coulson. It’s a obvious what it IS. The real question is…where the hell did it come from?”

The two men look up at the sky.

"And thus, Tony was left, in desperation greater than the one that'd forced him to forge his armor, to find a cure.

Uatu waved his hand again and returned to Tony’s workshop, sadly continuing to see him crack more and more as the pile of information before him came up empty.

“No…..No! AAGH!”

Tony angrily swept everything off his desk and onto the floor, collapsing into his chair, covering his face with both hands and breathing in fast, heavy breathes.

“There’s nothing! Nothing! I….I can't fix it. I'm going to...to....

As he huffed, bent over in his seat, he noticed through the hole of his fingers, a file on the floor he'd missed. He slowly bent over and picked it up, noticing the picture in it.

“Bruce Banner…..”

He began going over the file of Banner's gamma experiments, taking note of important terms like “ACCELERATED REGENERATION” and “IMMUNITY TO TOXINS” but his eyes wavered when he also noticed the area marked “SIDE EFFECTS”

“No….no, it-it’s insane. Too risky…Risky..." he scoffed. "Since when do I care about RISK? I already plugged a damn experimental reactor into my heart, and now it’s killing me! It's not like I can get deader if it doesn't work…..

So, using his funds and company resources, Tony began the process of assembling a Gamma radiation projector n his basement just like Bruce Banner’s. And, with his government connections, he was able to get what he needed make the other piece of the puzzle himself: the formula for Banner's super solider serum.

Once both were done, Tony took a deep breathe, staring at the projector in front of him. He held up the injector of super soldier serum.

“Well…..here goes….everything.”

He stuck it into his neck and shot the serum into his veins. Then he climbed into the projectors chair and turned it on. The chair projected a cross off green light on Tony's for head as he turned it from level one to the the highest setting.

Tony was then hit by a wave of gamma rays and he began to scream in agony. His body felt so rocked with pain that he couldn't move and his head felt as if it was about to split open.

The Watcher could only stand and watch Tony's proceedings, now only a shadow with glowing eyes on the wall of Tony's lab, looking on as the room began to fill with eerie green light from his experiment.

“Sometimes desperation can be used as fuel to do good. To help others and save lives. And other times, it can corrupt us. Turn us…into a monster…..”

#Marvel #Marvels what if #what if #uatu the watcher #uatu #The Watcher #Fanfiction #Iron Man #Tony Stark

6 notes · View notes

bmodiwrites · 1 year ago

Text

Eddie Munson is a successful story board artist working in an office building. One night, drawing late, Eddie is interrupted by the new custodian. Never in his wildest dreams does Eddie ever think he'll befriend someone at work but here he is, getting swept up by cuteness and a detached attitude. As things progress, Eddie wonders why Steve never talks about himself or why he's never seen the man's home. He'll soon find out there's so much more to a person than the navy blue jumpsuit they wear to work everyday.

Or, an excuse to write janitor!Steve

He's about to pick the red pencil back up when the creak of his already open door startles him. It’s well past the time at night where anyone else is usually in the building. Eddie likes to close his door until everyone leaves so he’s got the space to himself. Now, he’s drawing in ambient light with nothing to disturb him – except, he guesses, for a gorgeous man dragging along a cleaning cart.

For a lingering moment, Eddie knows the man hasn’t seen him yet. He’s got headphones covering his ears and his head bobs to the beat. Strong hands are already reaching for the tools he’ll need to clean the floor before clearing out Eddie’s trash. This guy is new because no one ever took the time to sweep up the pencil shavings under Eddie’s desk. Lately, he’s been coming back to the office to a clean space. Now, he knows who the culprit is.

Since the guy still isn’t reacting to Eddie’s presence, brown eyes greedily take in their fill. Though the headphones push it down, the janitor has gorgeous hair. It’s thick and dirty blonde. Eddie thinks about the potential for amazing hairstyles and almost swoons. As his eyes roam a little further, Eddie notices wide wire-framed glasses pushed up an angular nose. They enhance hazel eyes that are now looking at him with a mix of panic and surprise.

“Oh damn, I’m so sorry. No one is ever here, I didn’t even think to knock. I’ll uh – I’ll come back later.” The words are out of the new janitors mouth so fast that Eddie’s head spins. Though, he’s quick to put it on right in hopes of keeping this mouthwatering stranger in the room.

“Hey, it’s alright. I should be thanking you. You’re the first cleaner to ever pick up my pencil shavings. It’s awesome, man. I appreciate it.” Eddie finishes his thanks with a soft smile. It should be enough, saying something sweet before moving on. Yet, it’s not. Eddie feels compelled to keep talking. “Are you new?”

The guy looks incredibly uncomfortable for a second before nodding. It’s brief and coarse but it’s a reaction – one that Eddie wasn’t all that sure he was going to get. Happy with that small crumb, Eddie’s smile widens.

“Cool, you’ll like it here. I’ve been working behind this desk since college. Loved every second of it.”

His comment is met with silence that lingers so long Eddie thinks his new friend is done with the conversation. He’s about to grab at his pencil again when that deep voice sounds off.

“Maybe you’re right. It’s really quiet. I like that.” The man pauses for a second, takes Eddie in. His hazel eyes roam over Eddie’s face and down until he sees the drawing on the desk. For an instant, those eyes widen, but the moment is gone long before Eddie can process it.

“I’ll let you get back to your work, Mr. Munson. Sorry again about the interruption.”

Shrinking back at the name, Eddie calls out immediately – “It’s Eddie. Please, call me Eddie.”

Though the man doesn’t verbally respond or outwardly acknowledge Eddie’s request, there’s a short little nod before the squeaking of the cart sounds again and the enigma of a man is gone as quickly as he came.

Over the next couple of weeks, Eddie changes his routine in hope of bumping into their new custodian again. He walks the halls every couple of hours during the day to see if the man works while the rest of his crew does, but never finds him. He then stays a little later, lingering in his office until the call of food or a television show or plain boredom has him collecting his bags to head off for the night.

Eventually, Eddie’s enigma makes another appearance. This time, though, Eddie is not prepared for him. He’s been curled up into the sanctuary of his arm, napping soundly, since his last meeting. They ripped apart his drawing and asked for something completely different than what Eddie had been picturing. The game isn’t even out yet and Eddie is over it. The headache that sets in kicks his ass, making the call of the flat of his desk so very enticing. He doesn’t know he’s fallen asleep until the door kicks open and he’s blinking awake.

“Shit, I did it again. I’ve been saving your office for last every day, trying not to disturb you on your late nights. Sorry, Mr. – Eddie. I don’t mean to disturb you.”

Sitting up a little straighter in his chair, Eddie stops him before he can go. “Wait! You don’t have to do that. I don’t mind the interruption. It’s probably needed. I’m spending way too much time here, anyway.”

Read the rest at on AO3!!!

#steddie #stranger things #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #bobbie writes #you drew stars around my scars

10 notes · View notes

youwouldntlietopapa · 1 year ago

Text

Amore Mio - Ch. 3

(Also available on AO3) +18 MDNI Includes: Papa II x Reader, Primo, Terzo, Ghouls, wedding, p/v sex, cutting, blood Notes: Wedding prep is done, everything is set to go, now all that's left to do is get married and then they're home free. Right? Right???

For an all English version, look over here.

_____________________________________________________________

Changed into his Papal robes and looking every bit the fierce Papa you’ve heard all about, Primo leads you out across the grounds toward the edge of the woods. The old chapel stands apart from the Abbey. The last remnant of the structures that had been torn down to construct the current building. There was a time when the grounds around it had been kept in good condition, but the disused building eventually became less of a focus and the efforts of the groundskeepers were directed elsewhere. Nature has reclaimed most of the grounds around it, all tall grass and overgrown shrubbery. A few skinny trees trying to establish themselves firmly enough to threaten the chapel’s foundation. The building itself has certainly seen better days, though you expected worse just based on how long it sat, ignored.

Primo tsks softly beside you, looking around at the state of the yard. “A new project, I think. If no one wants the building, they don’t complain when I claim it, si?”

You can’t help chuckling. Excitement and nerves stirring up too much pent up energy. “If anyone says no, I can always shout at them for you.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “No, no, principessa. If you get into trouble on my behalf, Secondo… he never forgives me.”

“As you wish.”

The closer to the doors you get, the clearer the sound of chanting becomes. The voices are familiar but not the words. It’s not as is Papas have weddings often and, you realise, you’re not quite sure what all you’re supposed to do. Primo looks back when he sees that you’ve fallen behind and stopped, coming to stand with you.

“Something wrong? You get cold feet?”

“No, no… not that. Just… Are there things I need to know? That I’m supposed to do or say? I mean, I’ve been to weddings before, but not like this.” You look at him more than a little desperately, hoping for answers.

Primo smiles and takes your hand, patting it gently. “In a big wedding? For the Ministry? There are many ceremonies, si? Things to remember, things to say, things to do. It takes all fucking day.” He chuckles. “But this? This is just for us. A few words, a few things to do. And we all guide you through. Piccino doesn’t tell you this?”

“We were sort of… otherwise occupied.” You blush slightly.

“That I believe.” He snorts. “Is not so hard, I promise. We will guide you. You trust me?”

You take a breath and give his hand a small squeeze. “With my life.”

When he leads you inside, you stop once more. This time he doesn’t look worried, just calmly waiting for you to catch your breath. The chapel is very different from your expectations. How Terzo managed it with so little time, you can’t begin to guess.

You have to assume it’s partly down to the five ghouls chanting from their places at the points of the pentagram carved into the stone floor. Countless decades of use have worn it down nearly even with the rest, but it can still be made out clearly with so many candles light up the relatively small space. The altar has been swept and laid out with Secondo’s colours and it would be nearly impossible to miss that it’s set up very much like a bed. And in the middle of it all stand Terzo, in his paints and robes, and Secondo.

Primo gives your hand a gentle tug, urging you further inside. “Ready?”

You nod and he leads you toward his brothers. Both of them watching you unblinkingly as you get closer. Terzo grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Secondo, staring at you with an intensity you’re not sure you’ve ever seen from him before. There’s a hungry, possessive look in his eyes that makes your heart race.

Terzo takes your hand from his eldest brother, and Primo steps back to take his place. Always the charmer, he kisses your hand and both of your cheeks, leaning in to speak softly. “Sei bellissima, sorella. Sei sicura di volerlo sposare? Ho i capelli molto più belli, lo sai.”

The smack Primo gives to the back of his head nearly topples his mitre. To his credit, Terzo only mutters a few curses before he’s all smiles again. He hands you off to Secondo who works his jaw and glares daggers at his younger brother. Once he has your hands, however, his attention is entirely back on you.

Secondo leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours. His suit is immaculate, as always, and you notice all the little details he made sure were right. Right down to the cufflinks you’d given him for his birthday. His voice is soft and anyone else might miss the subtle hesitation, or the way his hands shake. But you see the nervousness in his eyes. “You are sure, amore, about this?”

You press a soft kiss to his lips and then to the end of his nose. “More sure than I’ve ever been. Are you?”

The rush of relief from him is palpable. He chuckles softly in a way that makes your heart flutter. “Quando tutto questo sarà finito, Primo ti dirà da quanto tempo ne sono sicuro.”

“Any time, you two.” Terzo smirks. “We’re in a bit of a rush, you know.”

“Did you hear him, my love? Apparently we’re in a bit of a rush. Did you know?”

Secondo snorts and gives you one last kiss before taking half a step back and looking at Terzo, who rolls his eyes. “Finalmente. Posso iniziare adesso? Ho già trascinato fuori Primo oltre l'ora di andare a dormire.” He only just manages to duck the smack aimed at him. “You see? He’s grumpy.”

“Terzo.” Secondo gives him a warning look. “Start.”

On command, he clears his throat and stands up a little taller. The ghouls chanting gets louder, echoing off the stone walls. The candles all around the abandoned chapel burn brighter. And Papa Emeritus the Third begins the ceremony.

The Latin lessons you’d been taking in the Abbey certainly come in useful, actually able to follow along with the prayers and invocations. As you stand, solemnly listening, Secondo’s hand keeps a hold of yours. Giving a gentle squeeze from time to time, his own silent reminder that he is with you and he has no intention of letting go. You return the squeeze each time, and each time you feel him relax just a little.

When he finishes the ceremonial prayers, there are more for you to repeat. Secondo says his unflinching, and when Terzo turns his gaze on to you, you wonder how. For a man known so widely as the most charming and least serious of the three, Papa and Terzo are worlds apart. Maybe it’s foolish to be so surprised. You’ve seen the same from Secondo. But your experience with Terzo really never prepared you for this. The way the power radiates from him. His pale eye glowing bright like he’s burning from within. It’s been too long since you’ve seen Papa, any Papa so flushed with His dark grace.

Secondo’s hand squeezes yours just a little tighter. Well aware of the effect of Papa’s gaze. He’s certainly used it often enough. You hold on to him tightly and repeat the words even as Terzo’s voice echoes uncomfortably in your head. Feeling like it’s as much a test of resolve as a vow to make. Secondo’s hand like an anchor while the rest tries to rip you away. Any uncertainty, any doubt, and you know it would all come crashing down. As you speak the final words, Terzo’s cold stare breaks with a proud smile and a wink.

So much of the ceremony after that is a blur. You barely feel the blade when it cuts your hand, too focused on the loss of his own clinging to yours, and the relief when it’s returned. Bound together with his green and black silks. The taste of the wine with the lingering metallic taste of blood. The taste of it on his lips when he kisses you deeply, like a drowning man trying to catch one desperate breath of air. You’re fairly certain Terzo makes a comment, but Satan only knows what it was. And, if you’re being honest, you don’t really care.

The ghouls chant changes subtly, still echoing around the space until it sounds like it’s coming from everywhere at once. Terzo and Primo both step aside, taking places at the perimeter of the pentagram. And Secondo gives your hand a gentle tug, guiding you up to the altar. This part certainly doesn’t need explaining. Though it’s curious that it feels much more vulnerable with less people than you imagine it would with more.

Secondo’s hand catches your chin, pulling your attention away from the others and back to himself. All the worries you might have hand, all the nervousness, slips away when you look at him. He presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes for a long moment.

“Amore mio, mia regina oscura, mia moglie.” He says with reverence.

“Il mio cuore, il mio re, mio marito.” You respond with a tiny smile and a soft kiss.

Your unbound hand works at the buttons of his shirt, pulling his tie free and letting it drop to the floor. The self-consciousness of being watched fades away as the world shrinks down to only him and you. His hand slips behind you, tugging down the zipper of your dress, watching hungrily as it drops and pools at your feet. He helps you up on to the altar and you lie back, on to the pillow Terzo was thoughtful enough to provide.

The sound of the chanting is joined by two more but it all seems so far away, so removed from you both. Lost in the feeling of his mouth claiming your own, his hand bound to yours lacing your fingers together. The weight of him pressing down against you and the heat of his skin. “Mio e solo mio.” He breathes next to your ear.

“Solo tuo, amore mio.”

Secondo’s eyes lock onto yours, his pale eye burning bright. Your legs hook behind his waist and a deep, needy moan escapes you as he buries himself deep. Standing up tall, looking down at you, he lays his warm hand on your stomach, sliding over your skin to your hip to hold you steady. He pulls back slow and thrusts back in with a grunt.

Belial, Behemoth, Beelzebub…

His pace increases quickly and you move with him. The chant echoing in your soul. Moving with him, drifting on their voices, incense fogging your mind and the shifting, dancing light of the candles making the shadows writhe and sway. Bathing him in an ever changing glow. Radiating hellfire and dark purpose.

Satanam hanc unionem benedicat. Lucifer luceat super eos. Crescat copulatio, opus sanctum gereret...

He leans down over you, propping himself up on his elbows and kissing you breathless. Your hand gripping his tightly. His mouth trails along your jaw and down your neck biting and sucking, leaving his marks on you for everyone to see. His name is on your lips desperate and pleading and shameless. And Secondo responds immediately. Snapping his hips into hard and fast, until your back is arching off the stone altar.

Asmodeus, Satanas, Lucifer…

His rhythm falters once and then again. Just as close as you are. His fingers tighten in your hair holding you still while he growls in your ear. “Sborra per me, amore. Voglio sentirti.” As if you would ever deny him, could deny him. Already teetering on the edge of the cliff.

Obsecro, pater, iunge in unum. Animae eorum in perpetuum nexae.

Your own voice echoes off the stone walls, crying out his name as you grip him tightly. His hips don’t pause, still pounding into you. Chasing his own release. Grunting and biting at your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark as he finishes. Driving himself in deep and holding himself there. His mouth claims yours again, kissing you passionately. And in that moment there is nothing more certain in the world than knowing you are his. Completely and without question.

Nema…

#ghost fanfic #papa ii x reader #Terzo #Primo #Ghouls #MDNI

6 notes · View notes