#raising cane's prices | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iluvmattsbeard · 8 months ago

Text

kiss me (m.s)

master list

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: none!

preview: you were the odd one out from the group. nobody really paid attention to you and you were aware you weren't a sight for sore eyes. never anybody's choice. little did you know someone saw something in you.

a/n: this imagine is sort of based off 'she's all that', not entirely, but that's where I got inspo to write this! listen to the song for the full effect lmao. enjoy!

"alright people! prom is coming up! make sure to purchase your tickets in the auditorium if you're planning to come! tickets at its lowest price!" you hear over the inner come. you didn't even bat an eye at the announcement. you never understood the fascination in prom. the fancy dresses, the excitement of being prom queen, and etc. it was not your scene.

your thoughts were interrupted by someone shaking you. "y/n! are you excited? our last prom!" Nick says excitedly still shaking you. you look at him with a still face. "totally." you respond sarcastically. you watch him frown as he responds, "oh come on y/n. why are you being sarcastic?" you sigh, "you know this isn't my type of thing." you respond. "you got that right." Chris blurts out. you weren't even fazed by it. Nick shoots him a sharp glare, "don't be rude."

"no he's right Nick, I am not someone who should be at prom." you say. all Nick does is roll his eyes, "everyone is welcomed at prom. can you at least think about it?" he says with a small pout.

you let out a small laugh, "maybe. now stop bugging me about it." all he does is nod and smile. the bell rings initiating that lunch is now over.

Matt's POV

i was sat at the dinner table, right next to Chris, as we ate our food in silence. our parents were out doing something so we ended up getting raising cane's. Nick and Chris started bickering when Chris asked him for some fries. "you can't have any since you were being rude earlier." Nick sternly says, pulling his fries closer to him. "dude she said it herself she doesn't belong at prom." Chris replies trying to reach for his fries. “how can you act like that? y/n has feelings you know.” i said as both of them look at me. “you care why?” Chris asks with an eyebrow raised. “because Nick doesn’t owe you any fries.” i reply. Nick looks at Chris with a face as he goes “ha ha”. I had to agree with Nick on this one. Chris’ reply to what y/n said earlier was uncalled for. she didn't need his opinion.

i don't get how she doesn't think she belongs at the event. I always overheard her conversations with Nick and Madi. she always thought of herself as the odd one out. I never thought that. so what if she didn't look like every other girl? to me, I thought she was beautiful in her own unique way. i'd be teased if anybody found out I thought that. but it was nothing but the truth. I couldn't tell her that. I knew she was just too focused with school to even care what I had to say anyways.

End of Matt's POV

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

it was a Friday evening. you were at Nick's house sitting on his bed, right next to Madi, who was painting her toe nails. "have you given any thought about prom?" Nick says as he's holding his suit and tie against his body in front of the mirror. you let out a groan, "no nick. what is so exciting about it?" you respond. Madi and Nick look at each other then back at you, "maybe because this is the last time you'll have the opportunity to dress up and kill it on the dance floor." Nick says doing a little dance. you shake your head letting out a small laugh. "yeah I don't know about that one." you say, “i think prom is just an excuse for a guy to get into a girl’s pants.” you continue. “if you hang with the right people, like me and Madi, you will avoid that.” Nick says.

you see Madi stand up with her toes pointed up. you and Nick laugh at the scene. "what? I don't want to ruin the paint!" she says with a giggle. you see her reach down to her bag as she pulls out three tickets. "don't tell me the third one is for me." you say, shaking your head slowly.

all Madi does is smile waving it in front of her, looking at Nick, then the both of them looking at you, "you know it is!" they say in sync. you cover your face with your hands shaking your head. you felt defeated. Nick sits right next to you speaking, "it will be fun trust me! you have to take advantage of every moment." "I don't know how to dance, I don't do makeup, and I have nothing to wear." you exclaim.

"don't worry y/n. I got you I promise!" Madi says with the biggest smile on her face. you let out a sigh. what did you get yourself into? Nick gets up doing another little dance, "y/n is going to prom! y/n is going to prom!" he says in a sing song voice as Madi joins along.

Matt's POV

as I was walking down the hall, I over hear Nick and Madi practically singing over and over again. I got closer to Nick's bedroom door as I hear them say, "y/n is going to prom!" I laugh quietly at the chants. they actually convinced her. i'm glad they did. now i wont be the only one not enjoying the experience since Chris is dragging me along. maybe y/n and I will bond over the dreadful experience.

my thought was interrupted by the door opening. my eyes land on y/n. "oh hi Matt." she says with a soft smile. I couldn't help but smile back. I analyzed her face. she had prominent freckles I had never seen before. maybe because I haven't really paid attention. I laugh softly to myself noticing how big her glasses were against her face. they were slightly slipping a bit from the bridge of her nose.

"what's so funny?" she says, raising an eyebrow. I kept a smile, pushing her glasses back up delicately, “nothing.” i say as I turn around to walk away.

as I laid down in bed, closing my eyes, all that popped into my head was her face. the freckles, the soft smile, and the glasses. how could she not realize I notice her? she always talked about how she could never be a first choice. but to me? in a crowd of people I would look at her first. even though I just pointed out that she had freckles, i've never seen, I knew little things she did. like when she laughs she covers her face, when she drinks a beverage she sticks out her pinky finger, and when she's stuck on something she scratches her head a little from frustration. I open my eyes staring at the dark ceiling, smiling at the thought of her. I let out a small sigh. if only she knew.

End of Matt's POV

it was the day before prom. after school, you, Nick, and Madi end up at a little boutique looking for the perfect dress for you. you looked around feeling hopeless. everything looked too much for your liking. "how about this one?" Madi says holding up a pink sparkly long dress with off the shoulder sleeves. you shake your head indicating a 'no'. pink was not your ideal color. you felt like it was too bold.

Nick then walks over with a handful of dresses. "oh my goodness." you spoke, "Nick that is a lot." all he does is smile shaking his head, "come on! try these on!" he says. you hesitate for a bit as you grab the dresses from his hands, walking into the dressing room.

after a few dresses, you were still feeling hopeless. "this isn't working guys." Madi and Nick look at you wearing a green dress with a scrunch on their faces. "yeah no definitely not that one." Nick says. you sit down looking around. your eyes catch a beautiful simple white dress. you get up and walk over to it. "I mean hey. simple is timeless." Madi says smiling. "try it on!" she continues. you nod your head as you walk back into the dressing room. you slip into the dress looking in the mirror. you look up and down at yourself with a smile. Madi was right. simple is timeless. you walk out the dressing room as Nick and Madi cover their mouths in sync. "you are definitely wearing that dress!" Madi squeals in excitement. "definitely! you look beautiful in it y/n." Nick says pretending to sniffle, which caused all three of you to laugh.

Y/n's POV

today was the day. the day I've been dreading. prom night. I stand in front of the white dress I picked out slowly running my hand down it. I let out a small breath as I shake off my nerves. "alright lets do this." I say looking at Madi and Nick who were behind me.

Madi was already done getting ready, so was Nick. Madi was in this beautiful purple corset dress and Nick was wearing a suit with his tie matching the shade of purple of Madi's dress. she sits me down quickly, taking off my glasses, and putting my hair up to get it out of my face. “trust me. you will look like a work of art.” she says smiling at me. me and Nick just laugh. she starts doing my makeup. i've never done my makeup before. I told her I wanted it as simple as possible. which she did.

she hands me a hand held mirror as I look into it. my eyes widen at myself. "Madi... you actually made me look... pretty." I say quietly. she giggles, "more like gorgeous!" she says. Nick then pretends to sniffle, "oh my goodness. our baby girl is growing up so fast." he says. me and Madi laugh at his choice of words. "thank you so much Madi." I stand up hugging her. "don't thank me! it’s literally just your face that’s perfection." she says grabbing my dress, "now, put it on!" she says with a smile clapping her hands excitedly.

i laugh at her actions and grab the dress. I go into the bathroom to change.

End of Y/n's POV

you finally were ready for the night you never expected to attend. you look at yourself one final time in the mirror smiling. "here we go." you whisper to yourself before picking up your heels.

downstairs, Matt and Chris were struggling to do their ties. Nick gets downstairs and sees them. "i'll help with that." he says walking up to the boys. "thank you." Matt and Chris say in unison. "are we all ready to go?" Chris says looking around. Madi steps down the stairs clearing her throat. "where's y/n?" Chris says.

"she will be down in a second. but first! I would like to say, this is my favorite masterpiece yet!" Madi exclaims smiling. "okay well get her down here." Chris says with an eyebrow raised. Madi looks up the stairs and yells out, "oh y/n! get your cute butt down here!" everyone laughs as Madi steps down completely from the stair case. steps now can be heard going down slowly. Chris stares with his jaw dropped. Matt looks up as he freezes in his place with his mouth agape.

Matt's POV

as I looked up at the stairs and see her, all I could do was stay still taking in a gulp. she was beautiful. she lets a small smile appear on her face. i couldn't take my eyes off of her.

End of Matt's POV

as you step down slowly, you stumble a bit at the end of the stairs as Madi quickly holds on to your hand. "still learning to walk in these." you let out a nervous laugh. Chris repeats his question, "how?!" Nick rolls his eyes, "don't ask stupid questions."

everyone, except you and Matt, step outside preparing to leave. you had your glasses in your hand, placing them down on the counter. Matt rubs the back of his neck slightly, "uh hey." you hear him say. "hi Matt.” you say turning around looking at him up and down, “you look really good." you say smiling. "thank you. you look- uh-good too." he stutters out a bit. you let out a small laugh as you thank him. "lets go!" Nick shouts.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

you all walk inside as you look around at everyone. there was loud music blasting and you see couples dancing up against each other. you cringe at the sight. Chris walks off meeting his buddies. Madi and Nick grab your hands pulling you onto the dance floor. you shake your head quickly as they both laugh. "let's dance the night away!" Madi screams out. you kind of just stood there not knowing what to do. but you swayed a little to the music. Nick was going all out making you laugh. "okay Nick! work it!" Madi shouts smiling.

“wait wait wait!” Nick stops in his place a little breathless. “let’s go get our photos taken before we look like a mess from all of this dancing.” he says. you and Madi nod walking with Nick towards the photographer waiting in line. you were still feeling anxious about what could happen tonight. you didn’t want to make a complete fool out of yourself.

you catch a glimpse at the photographer. it was your math teacher, ms. rose. as you guys were next you couldn’t help but notice her face. “y/n? is that you?” ms. rose says smiling. you nod smiling back, “hello ms. rose.” “i’m glad you made it!” she says looking around. “did you bring a date?” she asks excitedly. you shake your head quickly, “absolutely not.” all she does is laugh and prepares to take a picture. “alright pose!” she exclaims. i was in the middle of Madi and Nick, all of us smiling for the camera. “beautiful!” ms. rose says as she snaps the picture.

Matt grabs a drink looking around. his eyes locks on you taking a sip from his drink. he watches as you smile for the picture. he smiles admiringly. he couldn’t help but stare at you.

as time passes by you decided to step off the dance floor. you were feeling a bit overwhelmed. especially because you couldn't shake off the thought of how stupid you look trying to dance. you grab a water as you step outside. as you're walking around for a bit you notice Matt sitting in the outside courtyard. you decided to go keep him company. you sit next to him as he looks at you. "what's on your mind?" you say looking up at the moonlit sky. "not much. what are you doing out here?" he asks still looking at you. "I was feeling overwhelmed. which I feel bad because I know Madi and Nick have been waiting for this night and I just left." you respond. “well how about you? you can't just think about what they want." Matt says trying to read your face. "well, I didn't want to come in the first place." you laugh softly, "I feel stupid on the dance floor." you finish speaking. “you weren’t bad.” he says, “but it did look a little forced.” he says causing you both to laugh.

still looking at the sky, Matt suddenly stands up, stepping in front of you, holding his hand out. you look up at him taken a back. "what are you doing?" you ask softly. "I want to make this experience memorable for you." he says with his heart beating fast. you gulp as you take his hand gently. you stand up holding his hand as he pulls you into a slow dance position. your arms wrapped around his neck, while his hands rest on your hips. "i-i don't know how to do this." you say nervously, avoiding eye contact. "don't worry. just follow my steps." he says reassuringly with a smile. you nod as you look at your guys' feet. you accidentally step on him. "oh- i'm sorry." you say biting your lip softly.

"maybe you should look up at me. it'll distract you from your feet." he whispers. you do as he says. you look up up at him already looking down at you. you look into his eyes having your throat swallow. your heart was pounding. "hi" he whispers. you felt the nerves go away from the sound of his voice. "hey" you whisper back. it was quiet for a bit as you both sway from the faded music coming from the gym. you notice him analyze your face as you do the same at him. you never really looked at Matt in the way you were feeling in this very moment. your chests nearly touching, his hands caressing your hips softly, and the eye contact. it was making your stomach flutter.

"you know how you said you don't feel like you belong here?" he whispers. you nod waiting for what he has to say next. "well i'm glad you're here." he says not breaking eye contact. the light from the moon shines on his face.

"really?" you whisper. "yes really y/n." he pulls away a bit, "I'm always happy when you're around. even if you don't notice." he says. you couldn't hide your smile. this whole time you felt like nobody's choice. when this whole time the person who wanted you the most was right in front of you. "can I kiss you?" he says softly.

"kiss me." you whisper back. he grabs you by your face gently, pulling you into a soft deep kiss. you felt yourself melt under his touch making you both lean back, having him dip you slightly, still attached by the lips. you couldn't believe this was happening.

when you both finally pull away, you both look at each other breathless, shortly laughing after. "let's head back inside?" you ask smiling. "one second" he answers putting his hand in his pocket, taking out your glasses. you look at them with confusion. he steps closer to you placing them on your face gently, taking a step back smiling. "perfect." he says. you laugh at his actions and grab his hand walking back inside to the loud music with your mind now replaying the perfect moment that just had happened outside.

you and Matt head over to the dance floor once the song “Kiss Me” starts playing hand in hand as you repeat what happened outside. “what a perfect song.” Matt says with a soft laugh. “well you have no choice but to listen to the song.” you say as the song says ‘so kiss me’. he smiles pulling you in closer kissing you with his soft lips.

“i thought you didn’t have a date?” you hear a familiar voice shout out. you both pull away as you look at your math teacher noticing a smile on her face with her arms crossed. “now she does!” Matt shouts back happily.

a/n: this took me a while to write but somehow seems so short lmao. I loved writing this! I hope you enjoyed reading. likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated! follow for more imagines!

#Spotify #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets imagines #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

528 notes · View notes

definitelynotshouting · 1 year ago

Text

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE FINALE OF SECRET LIFE!!!!!

so i sped-wrote this as soon as i learned who the winner was this morning, tried to post it twice, tumblr mobile deleted it BOTH TIMES... but i will not be silenced ive finally gone to desktop /silly

this will go up on my rough draft pseud soon, but until then please enjoy the results of me being EXTREMELY unwell about the secret life finale. WOOOOOO WE ARE POPPING THE BIGGEST OF BOTTLES TODAY FR!!!!!!!!!!!

Grian barricades himself at the top of the highest tower of Tango's citadel the moment he wakes up. It's a calculated move, admittedly. There are a precious few places one might still find him if he truly wants to hide, but the Deep Frost Citadel isn't one of them— and with the second Decked Out coming to a ceremonious close, foot traffic here is perilously low. Dawn is a swift-approaching knife on the horizon, and Grian soars above it all, face numb with chill wind, wings brazen and feathers strewn across an empty sky.

He doesn't want to be near when Scar wakes. And he doesn't want to be found just yet, either. Oh, Scar will track him down. Of that, he has no doubt— but for now, Grian takes solace in the snow crunching underfoot as he locks himself inside this barren tower.

It's dark here, which suits Grian just fine. He doesn't bother lighting a lantern; instead, he huddles right on the floor, letting the ice seep through him. From here, he can just make out the sky as it lightens, bringing with it the dawn of a new victor. Nausea boils in his throat. With that victory comes a price, and Scar— And Grian— Well. Grian hasn't treated him very well throughout the games, now, has he?

He curls in on himself even further, feathers brushing along the length of his chilled arms. Each hair stands at attention, in some vain effort to pull warmth from the surrounding freeze— when he scrubs a hand along his arm, his fingers shake, and the gooseflesh remains stark and raised against his skin.

There was a sand-drenched point when the concept of warmth was all he could register— scorching wind scraping the cut on his cheek, the scarlet splatter of blood across split knuckles. And like the steady drain of life from a corpse, that warmth has drawn away, poison from a putrid wound— it leaves him compacting this cold, this loneliness, to mold it into four high walls around his heart; a fitting tribute to every grain of trust he's rightfully lost. Grian huffs the barest traces of a bitter laugh as his breath mists in the air. A better man would meet Scar at his base, extend his support, no matter how icily it might be met.

But Grian is selfish, and a coward, and will always be a coward— and so instead he sits, marrow freezing, with only the thin garrotte of paltry sunlight wrapping itself around his tender throat to keep him company.

And there he stays, motionless, for long enough that the chill makes a home in him— the glistening, pale yolk of the sun warns him of the passing time, a watery heat that counts down the seconds to minutes to hours until Scar finds him. Grian curls his wings around himself, a pitiful embrace, and waits.

Two hours later, the whistle of rocket-propelled elytra warn him of incoming company. Grian doesn't bother fleeing; he knows Scar, and Scar knows him, and with this last, missing puzzle piece finally slotting into place between them, he's under no illusions that staying hidden for long is feasible. Grian's eyes skitter to a crack on the far wall as clumsy footsteps scatter the snow outside, scrabbling for balance before the muted click of a cane joins them. Footsteps; another, louder click— the door's latch gives way, and a brief, blinding wave of light crashes over Grian's face, obscuring everything but the outline of a painfully familiar silhouette.

Grian has to look away. The door shuts, and for a small moment, neither of them so much as breathe.

Then Scar's sighs— one great, resigned gust. "Grian...."

He says nothing else. He doesn't have to. Grian draws his legs up to his chest in response anyway, heart a frozen pump bleeding ice into his very veins. What can he say? An apology? They're past apologies, now— if Scar wanted to disavow him forever, take the crumpled remains of their friendship and throw it at his feet, he'd be right to do so.

But Scar doesn't shout; neither does he leave. Instead, his cane taps forward, boots sliding into Grian's line of vision— and, with a grunt of effort, Scar eases himself down, until he's sitting at a safe diagonal from Grian's hunched form.

Neither of them say anything for a while.

Eventually, Grian licks his lips. They're chapped from cold, thin and ready to split. "Hi, Scar," he says softly. It comes out weak, thready— a barely-there declaration. Whatever Scar wants here... he can take it. It's the very least Grian can do at this point.

From the corner of his eye, he watches Scar settle, shifting his weight before he lands on something approximating comfort. He takes his time with it, blind— or uncaring— to the erratic snarl of Grian's pulse. His voice is just as quiet when he responds. "So... that's it, then, huh."

Grian glances over properly before he can stop himself, stomach churning; Scar's gaze has slipped to the cutout acting as a window, middle-distant and lost. Locked on something only he can see. Then Scar shakes himself, an abrupt jerk of his head and shoulders, and that glassy look turns to pin Grian directly to the wall behind him instead. "Just like that?"

Grian's fingers tighten around his knees. "Just like that," he agrees, hollow.

Scar mulls that over for a moment. His sigh is a wisp of white in front of them, crystallizing in the glacial atmosphere. "Jeez," he says finally, scrubbing one hand through the tangled bird's nest of his hair. He must have flown across half the server as soon as he... remembered, Grian realizes with a visceral pang. "I didn't... that's a lot of memories to just, um, gain back on a dime, huh?"

Grian darts a sidelong glance at him. Shifts his wings until their primaries lower, sweeping the ground around his feet like a feathered cat's cradle. "I wouldn't know," he says, a quirk of black humor dancing around the edges of his mouth. He swallows. "Since. Well...."

He trails off. Imagines, briefly, that he is a black hole— a quasar. A neutron star. Something so tight and compact it can string him out, erase him; a ball of grief and misery dense enough that it contains its own event horizon.

Scar hums a little shakily into the blooming silence. "Yeah. I guess that would complicate things, wouldn't it." A pause. "Does it always feel—?"

Grian shrugs. "Don’t know that either, Scar."

"Oh." Scar's still looking at him, the searchlight of his gaze burning pockmarks into Grian's skin. "Cool, okay... so...." He hesitates, teeth worrying his lower lip, before finally forging on: "So what now?"

Grian sucks in his own shuddery breath. "Whatever you want, Scar," he says, blank and dull. Every inch of him frozen stiff, awaiting the tipped scales of Scar’s judgement. "There's no going back, after this." The quicksilver flash of a grimace tugs his lips back to reveal sharp, white teeth. "Welcome to the club, I guess."

"It sure is a warm welcome," Scar says weakly. "Got— uh, got your complimentary balloons, and— and um, a whole gift basket of... of...."

He trails off too, the fragile ley lines of his humor peeling off, cracking at the seams. Impossibly, Grian curls around himself tighter.

An apology is nothing but wasted air now, but it dredges from his throat anyway. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Scar. I—" He breaks off, jaw tight. "I'm... I'm not sure what else to say, honestly. I never thought...."

I never thought you'd win. It's a cruel phrase that haunts the air between them, hanging like a smoky pall across their shoulders.

Scar says nothing against it; he only watches.

An uneasy prickle crawls up Grian's spine. "You don't—" He stops himself before he can finish that thought. "Are you— Scar, why are you here?"

"'Cause Pearl's not talking to me yet," Scar says quietly, prompt. "And— and because I remembered. Us."

Grian's throat closes around the word. "Us," he echoes, a rough rasp that ricochets against the deepslate walls surrounding them. The word tears through his ears, distorting with each pass. "Look, alright— I-I don't know if you got the memo, exactly, but— I'm not—"

He breaks off again, lungs jarring, hitching in his chest. Hot prickles sear behind his eyes, but nothing drops— he’s too tired for crying. "I've hurt you a lot, Scar," Grian says at last, lips numb around the words. "I'm not sure if there's much of an 'us' left, at this point."

"I know," Scar says. His eyes reflect the snow-glitter outside.

"And— I wouldn't blame you, if you left right now."

"I know," Scar says again, softer.

"I—” Grian stares at him, helpless. "Okay, then why are you here, Scar?" He gestures between them, an aimless motion that somehow encompasses the breadth of everything that's rotted at their foundations. "If you know all that, then what—?"

Scar regards him with enviable poise. His throat bobs as he speaks. "Maybe, I just— now that I remember— maybe I just want your company, Grian. Is that really so bad?"

Grian stares at him, at a loss. "I don't understand," he says finally, and it comes out plaintive even to his own ears. "I thought you'd be— angry. After everything I've done, after all that's happened.... What's your play here, Scar? If you want to yell at me, be my guest. I think by now I've more than earned it."

But Scar doesn't take the bait. Instead, he shuffles closer— just by an inch. A careful, cautious inch. "Y'know," he says, apropos of nothing, "and correct me if I'm wrong, here— but I seem to remember something about you wanting an alliance before all of... that crazy stuff happened. Is that right?"

Something in Grian's chest spasms. Whatever expression it spreads across his face must spur Scar on, because he scoots closer again, just enough to bring their calves together. The brief shock of warmth explodes through Grian's skin, worming its way underneath the subcutaneous tissue to flood his veins and gnaw at the lingering ice.

After a moment, Scar's lips tilt up— a subtle, fragile smile. "Is it too late to cash in on that?" he asks.

Grian's mind goes blank, white and buzzing, the thin hiss of a creeper drifting through it like smoke. Unfiltered shock threads through his voice. "You want t— what?"

Scar's smile tempers further around its edges, stretching into something softer, knowing. Rounded out. With solemn motions, he reaches into the pocket of his utterly ridiculous safety vest, and delicately pulls something out.

It's a sunflower.

In the frigid gloom of Tango's citadel, Grian gapes, the brilliant yellow petals incongruous with this grim, grit, darkened room. When he looks up, Scar's eyes are overbright, painfully earnest— brimming with a desperate urgency that tucks itself away in the depths of his pupils.

"Can we try again?" Scar says, soft as the new-fallen snow beyond this isolated cell of misery. "Start over? I— I kind of hurt you too, you know. And— for the record, being without you sucks. I don't—" He falters. "I know it's gonna be all weird, y’know, between us… but I don't want to do that anymore. I just... want you here, Grian. That's all. I just want you to stick around."

Grian sucks in a sharp, daggered breath. "You're joking," he breathes, but his heart leaps, tumbling from his throat and onto the floor for Scar to stomp at his leisure. "You're actually— this isn't funny."

"Hey, do you see me laughing?” Scar presses forward once more, a calculated attack, but still slow enough for Grian to track each move, to stop him if he cared enough to. Gently, Scar unwinds one of Grian's hands from his knees, cupping it between his own and brushing the lightest of kisses against his knuckles before turning over Grian’s palm and pressing the flower into it. Grian's fingers curl around it of their own accord, silky petals burning against his fingers.

"So." Scar smiles, tremulous, eyes suspiciously red-rimmed. "Can we still be friends?"

And Grian has always been a raw creature, a tangled wreck of his own selfish greed— he’s craved the honeyed umber of Scar's love since he first cradled it, tentatively, in his palms all that time ago. In the depths of his heart, there will always be that sandstone cliff, the crack of his bones against hard-packed sand, and wings too clipped to fly freely. There will always be that calloused fist around his heart, and beyond his own scrabbling fear, there will always, always be that fervent need to bring Scar close even as he pushes him away.

And where before, Scar had been playing blind, a game with no true rules… now, his eyes trap Grian against the wall, clear as glass— diamond sharp and just as steady. From a winning game, there is no turning back. There’s nothing left to lose here, except this porcelain trust, this shred of hope Scar offers him once more in the form of a flower.

Even after everything, all the memories flooding back— Scar is still here, holding Grian’s heart, and offering up his own in return.

Grian slowly presses it to his chest with trembling, vulnerable motions. "You're sure you want this."

"I'm sure I want you," Scar says, unwavering.

Grian breathes in. Breathes out. Inhale and exhale, both a heavy drag in his lungs. Already, the sun is beginning to strengthen, casting thick rays through the window and splaying them across Grian’s lap. The advent of gilded noon weaves around them, perfuming the air with light and heat.

"Okay," Grian says at last, and it drops from his lips with the weight of a confession; a relinquishment; a solemn vow. "Okay."

This time, when Scar reaches for his hand again, Grian meets him halfway, and the tangle of their fingers nets the sunflower in a promise neatly between them.

775 notes · View notes

marsplastic13 · 5 months ago

Text

'Complicated' (Part 1) - Kaz Brekker x reader

Idea - Kaz Brekker hires a prostitute to overcome his touch aversion, and be a better man for Inej, but things take an unxepected turn.

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Prostitute!Reader, (had to use y/n because I'm bad at names) Genre: modern AU, slow burn word count: 9.3k notes: please let me know what you think <3

Kaz Brekker studied the girl sitting uncomfortably in front of him. She kept shifting in her seat, her eyes darting around the room. Kaz tried to gather his thoughts, cursing himself for the drunk texts he had sent the previous night. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he was as uncomfortable as she was. He sighed, repeating to himself, "For Inej." He didn't care about this girl, didn't know her, didn't want to know her—he was doing this for Inej.

The girl's phone buzzed again. "Sorry, my friends are scared that you're going to kill me and asked me to send texts every three minutes or they'll call the police," she murmured, typing quickly.

Kaz raised an eyebrow, wondering what he had gotten himself into. He knew he had to say something. "For Inej," he reminded himself once more. "You are a prostitute," he blurted out. Who starts a conversation like that?

"Yep," the girl nodded, a tight smile on her lips.

"Who do you work for?"

"No one, it's, uh, really a selected clientele, let's say. I work with my roommates."

Kaz nodded, avoiding her gaze. He shouldn't be ashamed; she was no one. "I have a girlfriend—"

"Oh, the Wraith? I watch all of her videos. She's gorgeous. Sorry, I'll let you speak," she added quickly, noticing the annoyance on his face.

His last encounter with Inej played in his mind—how she had kissed him and he had run away, throwing up in the street. He shook his head. He could do this. He had to. "I have an issue. I can't touch people. It makes me physically sick, and I have to overcome it. For her," he said, all in one breath.

The girl frowned, her gaze shifting to his gloved hands. "So what do you want from me?"

"I want to get used to skin," he said, looking up at the ceiling, silently asking Ghezen to take him out of his misery. "She'll be back in a few months, and I would like to show her some progress."

"I'm sure you don't want her to know about this arrangement," the girl said slowly.

"No, exactly."

The girl looked around, weighing his words. "Sure, it's fine. I can do it. Prices are the same, though, sex or not," she said, getting up.

Kaz stood as well, nodding. "What do I owe you for this... chat?" he asked, blushing slightly.

The girl smirked. "First meeting is on the house. I'm y/n, by the way." She made her way out, and Kaz collapsed back into his chair, exhausted by the encounter.

***

Kaz Brekker found himself in the entry of her apartment, sitting uncomfortably on a couch, waiting. The girl who let him in had remarked that he was early and that she was still busy. He could hear soft moans coming from behind a closed door and did his best to ignore them, maintaining a straight face.

After a while, the noises stopped, replaced by muted conversation. A man left the room in a hurry, and a few minutes later, she appeared. The girl was wearing a see-through robe and dark green lingerie. She gestured for him to enter. Kaz hesitated, reminding himself, "For Inej."

The room was tidy, with no unnecessary items around. Kaz stood in the middle of it, unsure of what to do.

"You can sit, Kaz. Can I call you Kaz, or should I call you Mr. Brekker?"

"Kaz is fine," he said, neatly folding his coat and placing it on a chair, resting his cane against it. He took a seat on the bed, keeping some distance from her.

"You know, I actually did more research," she stated, getting a bit closer. The girl hugged her legs, her feet inches from his thigh. Kaz could already feel the anxiety rising.

"Your girlfriend was kidnapped and enslaved. That's awful. She's doing a great job sharing her story around the world."

He nodded without looking at her. Her body was on full display, and he never felt worse.

"What would she think if she knew you were with a whore?"

Kaz's head shot up, surprised by the question. "I... That's... you do it by choice," he stammered.

"So she wouldn't have a problem?" she inquired, curious, leaning in.

Kaz shifted a bit away. "That's none of your business," he snapped, then turned to look at her. "Why do you do this?"

The girl smiled. "Because sex is great, and my grandma always told me never to do something for free if you're good at it."

Kaz tilted his head, frowning.

"I mean," she continued, shifting closer, "what's the difference between going out on a Friday night hoping for some guy to buy me a drink and then take me home? I'll tell you," she added, not letting him think, "First, I'm getting paid, a lot. I can work with who I want, when I want, and I still have Friday nights free."

"That's... a way to see things," he admitted, surprised.

"Kaz?"

"Yes?"

"You're about to fall off the bed," she whispered playfully. Kaz had shifted so far away that he was dangerously close to the edge of the mattress.

"You are too close," he said, avoiding her gaze.

"Wasn't that the goal?" she leaned in a bit more.

"I need more time and space," Kaz said, getting up and pacing a bit.

"Do you have suggestions? Because I'm not really used to whatever it is you want me to do."

Kaz's mind raced. Part of him screamed to leave, to bury himself somewhere, to tell Inej it was over and disappear from the world. But another part remembered how good it had felt to hold Inej's hand, even if just for a few minutes. He sighed, sitting back on the bed.

"I need to have control over this, over you," he said, determined.

"I'm yours for the next 50 minutes," she shrugged, eyeing him curiously.

Kaz got lost in thought for a moment. "Can I see your hands?"

The girl rested them on the bed, and he slowly brought his covered fingers to brush against hers. "Do you like my nails?" she asked. Was she unable to stay quiet? he wondered.

"No, they're too long. Also, I don't like the color or the shape." These weren't Inej's hands, tanned and small, with bitten nails.

The girl laughed. "You have strong opinions about nails."

He actually chuckled, studying them more closely. "You should change your nail technician."

"I'll ring you up next time I have to do them."

Kaz kept turning her hand in his. They were pale and trembled slightly. Or maybe his hands were trembling; he didn't know. His thoughts wandered to the moans he had heard earlier. He wondered if they were real or if she was acting.

His fingers brushed hers again, and she shivered slightly. Kaz couldn't help but wonder about her life. Was she always this confident? Was she always in control? Did she ever feel as lost as he did right now?

After a long time, he felt confident enough to remove his gloves. "You have pianist's hands," she observed, tilting her head.

"I have thief's hands," he whispered. Kaz rested his hands next to hers on the bed. He raised a finger and slowly traced it along her hand. Shivers went down his spine; the anxiety was at his ankles, but he wasn't going to drown.

Kaz exhaled. "Your hands are cold," said the girl.

"Yours too," he replied.

"You know, I think you're forcing yourself too much. You're too focused on your hands," she observed.

"What should I do?" Kaz raised his gaze to meet hers.

"I don't know. Do something that involves touching, but not just that. Keep talking," she encouraged.

"About what?"

"Talk about your girlfriend."

Hesitantly, Kaz started talking, sharing facts here and there. He tried to keep his eyes on her, distancing his thoughts from her cold hands in his trembling ones.

Kaz felt her hands continuously slipping away. Every time he reached for them, she pulled away.

"For Ghezen's sake, stay still," he said, annoyed, grabbing her wrist to keep her hand where he wanted it.

She raised her brows, surprised.

Kaz looked at their hands. His lungs felt like they were filling with water.

"Kaz, you're not breathing."

No, he wasn't. He let go of her wrist, getting to his feet again. He leaned on the desk, taking slow breaths and cursing himself, his past, Inej, and the poor girl who was watching him with wide eyes.

"Do you want to try again?" she offered.

Kaz took a shaky breath, then nodded.

Later, he stayed in his car under the girl's flat for a while, listening to Inej's audio messages and wondering what she would think of him if she knew. He wondered if this would work and if she would ask what had happened to him when she returned and he could hug her, feel her, kiss her.

***

For weeks, Kaz made his way to her house. It took him a lot to be comfortable enough to hold her hand. Even if he didn't like to admit it, he didn't dislike talking to her. Sometimes he would vent about his work, and she would listen attentively, her hands held tight in his. Other times, they would talk about the Netflix show he convinced her to watch, sharing moments of laughter and distraction from the weight of their respective lives.

One time, they even got into a spirited debate because she was a vegan and he thought it was a ridiculous concept. She argued passionately about animal rights and the environment, while he countered with pragmatic concerns about nutrition and societal norms. Despite their differences, they found a strange sort of fun in their debates, both stubbornly refusing to concede their positions.

As the weeks passed, Kaz found himself looking forward to their sessions, not just because of the progress he was making with his aversion to touch but also because of the unexpected connection he was forming with this unconventional woman. She was sharp-witted, unapologetically herself, and surprisingly perceptive about his inner struggles. Though their arrangement was based on a transactional premise, Kaz couldn't deny that there was a genuine bond developing between them.

He often wondered about her life outside of these walls, the clients she saw, the challenges she faced, and the reasons that led her to this unconventional career. Yet, despite his curiosity, he refrained from prying too deeply. Their interactions were framed within a delicate balance of intimacy and distance, a line he was careful not to cross.

Each visit brought a new revelation or a small triumph. Sometimes it was a touch held a moment longer than before, a conversation that flowed effortlessly, or a shared laughter that eased the tension in the room. Through it all, Kaz kept Inej in his thoughts, reminding himself that every step he took here was for her.

***

He still had about three weeks before Inej would come back. Kaz was waiting on the couch, getting used to the noises he heard from the various rooms in the house. That day, they were louder than he had ever heard, and he recognized her voice clearly. The girl at the desk snorted, looking at his embarrassed face.

"Stop, please, stop, let me go," he heard, and he got on his feet.

"Where do you think you're going?" the girl at the desk raised an eyebrow.

"She said—" her screams grew louder, more pleading, more desperate cries for help.

Kaz took a few more steps, but the girl stopped him. "She's not using her safe word. You can't go in. Are you crazy?" she asked angrily.

Kaz stopped, embarrassed. "I'll go back to—"

"Yeah, sit back," the girl shook her head.

Kaz reluctantly sat back down, his mind racing. He felt a mixture of anger, confusion, and helplessness. The sounds from the room continued, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he should be doing something. Every instinct screamed at him to intervene, but he forced himself to stay put, gripping the edge of the couch with white knuckles.

The girl at the desk glanced at him, then sighed. "Look, I get it. It sounds bad, but she knows what she's doing. If she needed help, she'd use her safe word."

Kaz nodded, trying to calm his racing heart. "I know. It's just... weird to listen to."

The girl softened a bit. "It's part of the job, both hers and mine. You learn to block it out. You'll get used to it too, if you keep coming here."

He wasn't sure he wanted to get used to it. Kaz's thoughts drifted back to Inej, to the reason he was putting himself through this. He needed to be stronger for her, to be able to touch her without flinching. But moments like this made him question if he was doing the right thing.

Eventually, the noises from the room subsided. The door opened, and the man from earlier left, looking smug. Kaz glared at him, but the man didn't notice, or didn't care.

A few minutes later, she emerged, looking tired but composed. She saw Kaz and gave him a small smile. "Ready?" she asked.

Kaz nodded, standing up. He followed her into the familiar room, feeling more on edge than usual. As they settled in, he tried to push the recent events out of his mind, focusing on the task at hand.

"You okay?" she asked, noticing his tension.

"Yeah," Kaz lied. "Just... a bit distracted."

She nodded, understanding. "We can take it slow today."

Kaz took a deep breath, reaching for her hand. He held it gently, trying to steady himself. "For Inej," he reminded himself again.

She still looked a bit disheveled when he got on her bed.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, no one fucked me that good in ages, I'm still a bit shocked, sorry."

Kaz looked at the ceiling, sighing. She always had to overshare.

"What's your safe word?" he asked as she got closer.

"Why? Are you into weird shit?" she grinned, and he felt himself blush because of his total lack of experience.

"Don't make that panicked face. I was joking," her hand slid comfortably into his, "my safe word is 'safe word.'"

Kaz laughed, a good, sincere laugh. "I am not surprised."

She laughed too. "I really hope that one day you'll be able to do shit so nasty it'll become too much, and the only thing you have in mind is, 'I have to use my safe word,' and you'll think that just saying 'safe word' is a great idea."

Kaz studied her, feeling a bit curious about what she was doing with the man before him, and he was sure she would go into detail if he asked. Instead, he decided to go straight for what he wanted to do. "I want to hold you."

"Sure, how?"

He thought about Inej, how he saw her with their friends, carefree, resting her head on Nina's lap.

"Rest your head on me," his heart started racing as she executed the request.

"How does it feel?" she asked, getting comfortable.

Kaz looked at her, slowly scanning her features. She was undeniably beautiful, but still not as much as Inej. There was a stark difference between the two women, and it wasn't just physical. This girl's beauty was polished and practiced, a tool she wielded with confidence and control. Inej's beauty was more profound, a quiet strength that resonated from deep within her, marked by the resilience in her eyes and the grace in her movements.

As Kaz held her, he found himself comparing every detail. Her hair was soft under his fingers, but it lacked the wild, untamed quality of Inej's. Her skin was smooth and flawless, but it didn't have the history and stories that Inej's scars told. He felt a pang of guilt for comparing them, but he couldn't help it. Inej was the reason he was here, the reason he was pushing himself to the brink of his comfort zone.

His mind wandered to the times he had watched Inej from afar, wishing he could reach out and touch her, to reassure her of his presence and his support. He remembered the way she moved through the shadows, a silent guardian, and how he had admired her from a distance. She was more than just a companion; she was his anchor, his reason for fighting.

But now, as he sat here, trying to overcome his deepest fears, he wondered if he would ever be able to truly be there for her. Would this training make a difference? Would he be able to touch her without flinching, without feeling the icy grip of panic?

He thought about the last time he had seen Inej, how she had kissed him and how he had run away, throwing up in the street. The memory filled him with shame, but also a renewed determination. He couldn't let that be the end of their story. He had to be stronger, for her.

"It's... fine," he admitted, feeling more in control that day.

"You know," she said with a smirk, "I'm sure your girlfriend would absolutely love it if you played with her hair, scratched her head..." she let her voice trail off.

Kaz chuckled. "My girlfriend or you?"

"Oh no, it's all for her. I would hate it," she laughed softly.

He removed his gloves and started touching her hair from the lengths. He slowly made his way to her head, wondering if Inej would really enjoy it as much as this girl seemed to. The girl closed her eyes, humming with satisfaction. "I can't believe you pay me to cuddle me," she whispered.

"I'm not cuddling you," he said, offended.

"I know you're not an expert, but trust me, love, you totally are," the girl smiled, keeping her eyes closed.

Kaz rolled his eyes. "I want to try and hug you, but, uhm, can you put some more clothes on?"

The girl looked at her exposed body, then nodded. "Sure thing, baby. I'll be right back." She stood up and walked to her dresser, pulling out a comfortable-looking sweater and leggings. After slipping them on, she returned to the bed and sat next to him.

"Can you stop using pet names for me? It's weird," Kaz requested.

The girl sighed heavily, rolling her eyes. "Yes, Kaz." She moved to sit on his lap, waiting for his instructions. Kaz kept his hands firmly on the bed, his breaths quickening. The girl stood still, looking around, until he rested one of his hands on her thigh. She started chatting about the latest gossip she had on one of her friends, and Kaz found himself becoming more and more invested. That girl was really unlucky with relationships.

Kaz put his other hand on her arm, and while she kept talking, he guided her to rest against his chest, silently battling a war inside of him.

"Kaz, you're not breathing," she reminded him gently.

He knew he wasn't, and tried to distract himself by focusing on her hair. Sometimes he wondered if he had it all wrong. Maybe Inej would have enjoyed making this long journey with him, but he felt too embarrassed. With y/n, he didn't have to be ashamed; he was paying for her time, and he was the one setting the pace and the rules.

Kaz let her press her head against his chest, staring firmly out of the window. "Can I?" the girl rested a hand on his chest to shift more comfortably. They remained in that position for a while. He gathered the courage to hug her more tightly, but as he did, her forehead pressed against his neck, and he felt like drowning.

Kaz abruptly got to his feet, shoving her away, trying to ground himself. "What the fuck?" the girl was on the floor, massaging her shoulder, and Kaz managed to feel even worse.

"I'm sorry, I can't-" he started, his voice faltering with frustration and self-disappointment. He turned away, struggling to regain his composure, he failed miserably to steady his breaths.

The girl remained on the floor, watching him quietly.

He didn't look at her as he hurriedly gathered his things and made his way to the door. Before leaving, he glanced back at her once more. "Wait Kaz don't-" he heard her calling for him, but he ran away from the building. His heart stopped racing only after he drove for a while.

After a shower, Kaz was feeling slightly better. He threw himself on his bed, exhausted both physically and emotionally from the day's events. Checking his phone, he found a few audio messages from Inej, likely filled with her warm voice and reassuring words, a couple of pictures from Jesper, probably teasing snapshots or updates from their latest escapade, and nothing from y/n.

Kaz sighed heavily; he had even forgotten to pay her. He tapped on the bank application: 'Press Confirm to send 700 kruge to y/n y/l/n.' It was way more than what he usually gave her, but he confirmed the transaction without hesitation, feeling it was a small price for the scene he caused. Tossing his phone aside, he turned on the TV and aimlessly flipped through channels until he settled on the new episode of Masterchef.

As he immersed himself in the cooking competition, his phone signaled a new message.

'Did someone steal your card?'

Kaz shook his head at the text, amused by her directness. He decided not to respond, but another message followed immediately.

'Are you watching Masterchef?'

'No,' he replied without thinking.

'I bet you could do a better tiramisu than this even blind and with just one hand.'

He chuckled softly, his lips curving into a rare smile. 'Absolutely.'

'My friends asked me to go to the Crow Club tomorrow night, hope it's not a problem.'

'It's fine,' Kaz replied, relieved at the normalcy of their conversation despite the recent awkwardness.

The girl left him on read, and he returned his attention to the episode, stealing occasional glances at his phone. In the comfort of his room, surrounded by the familiar banter of the cooking show and the gentle glow of the television, Kaz allowed himself a moment of respite from the complexities of his life.

***

The next night, Kaz observed the bustling crowd from his elevated private zone in the club. It was well past 2 am, and the party was in full swing. Amidst the sea of dancing bodies and flashing lights, he spotted y/n with four other girls, one of whom he recognized as the 'secretary' he had seen at her house.

Almost immediately, a group of guys approached them, offering drinks and inviting them to dance. Kaz felt a pang of discomfort at the thought of immersing himself in the midst of the sweaty, pulsating crowd, but he couldn't deny that y/n and her friends seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Throughout the night, Kaz stole glances at her, careful not to lock eyes. He observed as she laughed, danced, and interacted with her friends and the group of guys around them. Despite the chaotic environment of the club, there was a sense of carefree energy emanating from y/n that Kaz found both intriguing and somewhat unsettling.

As the hours ticked by and the club approached closing time around 4 am, Kaz couldn't help but notice y/n leaving with a guy, her arm casually draped around his. Guess she found someone to take her home on a Friday night, he thought wryly.

Observing from his secluded vantage point, Kaz's mind began to wander, consumed by curiosity about y/n's motivations. It puzzled him why someone who engaged in intimate encounters every day for work would actively seek out another person at a club. Was it a matter of preference—perhaps finding someone who could provide a different kind of connection or intimacy that her clients couldn't? Did she crave genuine affection or cuddles after days of superficial interactions?

The image of her relaxed face as he played with her hair during their sessions floated into his mind. There had been a moment of vulnerability there, a glimpse behind the professional facade she maintained. Kaz found himself reflecting on the complexities of human desires and needs, realizing that intimacy—whether physical or emotional—could manifest in myriad forms, even for someone whose profession seemed to blur those boundaries.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, torn between curiosity and a sense of guilt for prying into her personal life.

***

"Kaz!" He had just stepped out of his car when he heard her voice calling from somewhere behind him.

Kaz turned and saw y/n approaching with a smile. It was the first time she had been free before their usual session.

"That's really your car?" she asked in shock.

"Yep," he replied, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

"My brother in Ghezen, you have money," she observed, still eyeing the car. "Are you sure you want to stay faithful to your girlfriend?" she smirked.

"Pretty sure," he answered without hesitation.

"Why are you always this early?" she asked, opening the building's door and gesturing for him to enter first.

Kaz shrugged, "I don't like being late."

"Well, I'm not booked for another 20 minutes. Do you want something to drink? I think I have beer."

"You drink before going to work?" he joked.

"Oh, wait until I tell you I have sex at my workplace sometimes," she winked.

They sat in her room, chatting about Masterchef and sipping their drinks. "I'll change and then I'm all yours," she said, heading to her drawer.

Kaz glanced at her outfit—jeans and a t-shirt, perfectly ordinary. "Can you stay like this?" he blurted before he could stop himself. "You have less skin exposed."

She seemed uncomfortable with his request. "Undressing helps me separate things," she explained, shifting her weight. "I wouldn't feel comfortable using my everyday clothes while working. I'll find a compromise like the other day."

After she changed into something less revealing, they both sat on the bed. Kaz felt calmer than before; he had survived her touching his neck, and despite the panic attack, the world hadn't stopped turning. He hadn't drowned. He could do this. 'For Inej,' he repeated in his mind like a mantra.

"Come here," he said softly, and she moved onto his lap.

Again, he started touching her hair and noticed she must have changed her shampoo. Slowly, he pulled her closer until her head rested on his chest, both careful not to let bare skin touch. They continued chatting, and Kaz felt comfortable enough to hold her hand too.

The girl slowly shifted in his arms to look at him while talking, and he didn't even notice.

"Fix my hair," she said at a certain point.

He looked puzzled. "I have hair in my face, put it behind my ear," she encouraged, "girls love it, trust me."

Kaz sighed. He had never touched her face. He took the small strand of hair and did what she asked, brushing as little as possible against her ear.

"Not bad," she commented with a smile, making him snort at the absurdity of the situation.

The whole scenario felt surreal. Here he was, grappling with the simple act of brushing hair from her face, while she was someone who had sex for money, casually and without the emotional turmoil that plagued him. Kaz's mind raced with the juxtaposition of their worlds—her ease and expertise contrasted sharply with his profound discomfort and hesitation.

Kaz's gaze fell from her eyes to her lips, and she didn't miss it. "Yes, it would be a great moment to kiss her."

He nodded, feeling bad about how slow his progress was. It frustrated him to no end. He had always been the master of his own fate, the one in control, but this was different. This was a battle against his own mind and body, and he was losing. He felt like he was stuck in quicksand, every attempt to move forward met with resistance.

His mind wandered back to Inej, her soft voice and the warmth of her presence. How would she react if she knew what he was doing? Would she understand, or would she feel betrayed? He pushed the thoughts away, focusing on the girl in front of him.

"I saw you at the club the other day. Saw you left with a guy."

"Yeah, nothing special. Bit boring, not a great shag. I'll see him later for dinner," she commented.

"Why are you seeing him again if he's not good in bed?" he frowned.

"Maybe because I have sex almost every day, so it's not exactly my first concern," she snorted.

"Yeah, right. I always forget," he shook his head.

"Forget what? That not everyone who comes in here wants to do sweet things like you?" she teased.

Kaz felt a flush of frustration rising. "The fact that I can't do much doesn't mean I wouldn't like to do much more," he said before registering what he was revealing.

She looked at him with wide eyes. "That's new," she commented.

Kaz immediately felt a wave of embarrassment crash over him. He wasn't used to exposing such raw vulnerability, especially not to someone he was paying to help him. It made him feel weak, pathetic even, to admit his shortcomings so openly.

He glanced away, his face heating up. "Forget I said anything," he mumbled, wishing he could take the words back.

But she didn't let it go. "No, really. What do you mean?"

Kaz struggled to find the right words, feeling cornered. "It's just... I want to be able to touch her, to hold her without feeling like I'm drowning. I want to be able to kiss her, to feel her against me without panicking."

She nodded, listening intently. "It's natural to want those things with someone you care about."

Kaz's frustration bubbled over. "It's more than that. I want to be able to... to make her feel good, to be with her the way she deserves. I think about it all the time, but I can't even get close without... without freezing up."

Her eyes widened slightly, her expression sympathetic.

He glanced away, again. "Forget it," he mumbled, wishing he could take the words back.

But she didn't let it go. "No, really. What do you mean?"

Kaz sighed, his frustration mixing with a deep sense of inadequacy. "I mean, I want to be able to do things, normal things. But I can't. Every step feels like I'm trying to climb a mountain."

She tilted her head, her expression softening. "You're doing more than you realize, Kaz. The fact that you're here, trying, it says a lot about you."

He shook his head, still unable to meet her gaze. "But it's not enough. Inej deserves more than what I can give her right now."

She placed a hand on his, her touch gentle. "I imagine Inej loves you for who you are, not for what you can do. She's seen you at your worst, and she's still with you, right?"

Kaz nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, but for how long? What if she gets tired of waiting for me to be... normal?"

"Normal is overrated," she said with a small smile. "And besides, you're making progress. It might feel slow, but every step forward is a victory."

He sighed, feeling a bit of the weight lift off his shoulders. "I just... I don't want to disappoint her."

"And you won't," she assured him. "You're trying, and that's what matters. The rest will come with time."

Kaz felt a mix of relief and frustration. He was trying, but it never felt like enough. He didn't want to just keep trying; he wanted to succeed. He wanted to be the man Inej deserved, not just someone who was always working on getting better.

"So you want to have sex with her?" she asked with a grin, her tone teasing and eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Of course I want to," he let himself say, sighing heavily. "But it's not just about sex. It's about everything that comes with it. The intimacy, the closeness, the trust. I want to be able to give her that without feeling like I'm about to fall apart."

She laughed softly. "That's a lot of pressure for one guy, even one as stubborn as you, Kaz. But it's cute, you know? Watching you struggle with this whole intimacy thing."

"Great," he muttered, his frustration mounting. "I'm glad my issues are entertaining for you."

She rolled her eyes, still grinning. "Oh, come on. Lighten up a little. You're taking this way too seriously."

"Seriously?" Kaz's voice had a sharp edge. "Of course I take it seriously. This is about more than just me. It's about Inej. She deserves better."

“But what about you Kaz? You always talk about her, what she might need, what she might expect from you,” she observed, “You’re allowed to do things for you too. You need to loosen up. Enjoy the process a bit."

Kaz felt the heat of embarrassment and anger rise in his cheeks. "It's not that simple," he snapped. "I can't just 'loosen up' and pretend everything's fine."

She smirked, leaning in closer. "Maybe you need to stop overthinking and start feeling. Like right now. What do you want to do? What do you really want?"

Kaz's mind raced, his usual calm shattered. "I want to be able to touch her, hold her, without feeling like I'm going to drown."

She raised an eyebrow, her smile turning mischievous. "What do you want to do with me?"

Kaz hesitated, feeling the weight of her question. His thoughts were jumbled, a mix of frustration and desire. He knew she was teasing him, but the question still struck a chord. He wanted to push his boundaries, but it was hard to admit it, even to himself.

"I want to..." he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I want to be able to hold you closer. To not feel like I'm constantly on the edge."

She tilted her head, still grinning. "Is that all? I thought you'd have something more interesting in mind, apart from holding hands and playing with hair."

Kaz felt a surge of irritation. "It's not a game," he snapped. "This is hard for me." His mind began to wander, thinking about all the things he wanted to try but was too shy to say out loud. He imagined holding her hand without gloves, feeling her skin against his. He thought about tracing the curves of her body, learning every inch of her by touch alone. He wanted to kiss her, to feel her lips against his and lose himself in the sensation.

He yearned to learn how to make her come undone in the same way he knew how to crack a safe, so good that it left her distracted all day, like he had witnessed for other men. He imagined exploring her body, discovering what made her gasp, what made her moan. In his mind, images of Inej blurred with images of y/n, and he shook his head to make them go away.

"You don't have to be afraid to say what you want," she whispered, her voice suddenly soft.

Kaz took another deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside him. "I just... I want to feel normal," he confessed. "I want to touch and be touched without fear."

"Do you think you can touch my cheek?"

Kaz tilted his head. "Maybe with the gloves first." He covered his hands and then stopped, unsure of how to proceed.

The girl felt his hesitation, "Can I?" she gestured to his hand, and he nodded.

She guided his hand to her face, and he felt the familiar rush of anxiety. He had to fight the urge to pull away, to retreat back into the safety of distance. His breathing quickened as he made contact, his gloved hand resting on her cheek.

"You're doing fine," she whispered encouragingly, but her words did little to soothe him. He felt like he was failing, like he was letting Inej down.

"It's just...so slow," he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. "I should be past this by now."

She shook her head slightly, careful not to disrupt his hand. "Everyone has their own pace, Kaz. You're making progress, and that's what matters."

Kaz sighed, his eyes fixated on his gloved hand against her skin. "But what if it's not enough? What if I can't ever get past this?"

She gently cupped his hand with her own, her touch light and reassuring. "You will. It's not about how fast you go, but about continuing to move forward, even if it's just a little bit at a time."

He looked at her, searching her eyes for some form of validation. "Do you really think so?"

She smiled softly. "I do. And I think Inej would understand. She knows what you've been through, and she wouldn't expect you to change overnight."

Kaz swallowed hard, feeling a lump in his throat. He wanted so badly to believe her, but the fear of failure loomed large. "I just... I want to be better for her."

"And you will be," she assured him. "You're already trying, and that means a lot. Now, do you want to try taking off the glove?"

Kaz hesitated, but then nodded. "Yeah. Let's try."

He carefully removed his glove, exposing his hand to the cool air. The anxiety surged again, but he kept his focus on her face, her calm demeanor helping to steady him.

"Okay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm ready."

She guided his bare hand back to her cheek, and this time, the contact felt more intimate, more real. Kaz took a deep breath, feeling a mix of fear and determination.

"See? You're doing it," she said softly. "One step at a time."

Kaz nodded, feeling a small spark of hope ignite within him. Maybe he could do this, after all. Maybe he could become the person he wanted to be for Inej, one slow step at a time.

He let himself brush his fingers against her nose, tracing the line of her brows. He couldn't bring himself to cup her face completely, but still, it was a lot. When he left, he felt good. He didn't have much time before Inej's arrival, but he was making progress.

***

All of his confidence disappeared the night before her arrival. In Kaz's mind, the only scene he could see was when she tried to kiss him, and he ran away.

‘Can you come to my place?’ Kaz attached the screenshot of a payment of 1000 kruge he only had to confirm.

After two minutes, he got a response. ‘Are you okay?’

He thought about what he could answer, but luckily another message saved him. ‘I don't work outside home, sorry. You can come here if you want.’

Kaz confirmed the payment and stormed outside his house.

He found y/n at her door with a worried look. It was quite late; she was probably doing other things when he had written to her. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and she wore a loose-fitting T-shirt and pajama shorts, hinting that she might have been getting ready for bed before his unexpected message.

"Kaz, what is going on?" she whispered, concern evident in her eyes as she glanced at the time on her phone.

"I have to kiss you. I want to... I want to kiss her," Kaz blurted out, his voice strained with anxiety.

She nodded slowly, processing his words. "Okay," she said softly, her tone soothing. "Come in."

She stepped aside, allowing him to enter her apartment. Kaz followed her, feeling a mix of nerves and determination swirling inside him. He noticed the cozy atmosphere of her living room, dimly lit with a few lamps casting warm light across the space.

As they walked towards her bedroom, Kaz stole glances at her, trying to read her expression. She seemed uncertain yet patient, as if she understood the weight of his intentions but wasn't entirely sure how to respond.

Inside her bedroom, she turned to face him, her gaze searching. "Let's take it slow," she suggested gently, her voice a contrast to the nervous energy crackling between them.

Kaz nodded, his heart racing in his chest. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the turmoil of emotions churning inside him. This moment felt surreal, both daunting and exhilarating.

They stood facing each other, a palpable tension hanging in the air. Kaz noticed the way her eyes softened as she studied him, as if she could see past his walls and into the vulnerability he kept hidden.

"Okay," he murmured, his voice barely audible in the quiet room.

She took a step closer, closing the distance between them. Kaz felt his breath catch in his throat as she reached out, her hand resting gently on his arm.

"You're trying," she said softly, her gaze unwavering. "That's what matters."

He nodded, grateful for her understanding even as he struggled with his own expectations. Kaz knew he had to push past his fears, but the fear of failing Inej loomed large in his mind.

"I just..." Kaz started, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "I don't want to mess this up."

Her expression softened further, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Have you ever kissed someone?"

"Not exactly," he muttered.

"You don't have to force yourself."

"Maybe I do," Kaz replied, releasing a few shaky breaths. With all the patience in the world, he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. She tasted like cherries.

He took a few steps back, unsure. The world didn’t stop turning; he didn’t drown. He took a bit more courage, resting his gloved hands on her waist. Kaz tried to lean into the contact, to let their lips move against each other for more than a brief instant. She was cold, why was she always so cold? Inej burned under his touch; y/n felt like ice. Inej, he should be kissing Inej. Kaz pulled away from the brief contact again, with heavy breaths.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

He nodded, and her gaze softened. “You’re trembling, Kaz. Do you want to sit?”

They moved to the bed, where he noticed her tablet on with a paused show open. She was really about to go to sleep when he arrived. Their noses were inches apart, and it already felt too much.

“Talk to me,” she said gently.

“You taste like cherries,” escaped from his mouth.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“What does Inej taste like?” she leaned closer, brushing her nose against his.

“Like the sea,” he murmured, gazing one last time at her lips before pressing them into a kiss. Kaz tried to stay present, focused. His body wanted to react, to ask for more, but his mind kept him on a short leash. He managed to tangle one hand in her hair, to have more control. The girl slightly opened her lips, inviting him in, and he didn’t know what to do. He knew that people kissed with tongues, but he never grasped the mechanics of it.

Sensing his hesitation, y/n opened her mouth more, waiting for him to go further. Kaz’s heart was racing; he was sure he was about to have a stroke. All of her body was ice cold, but the hotness radiating from inside her mouth seemed to come directly from hell. y/n brushed her tongue on his lips, and he forced himself to respond. But as their tongues touched, he was back in the harbor, and water was filling his lungs.

Panic surged through him, and he pulled back, gasping for air. His chest heaved as if he were drowning, the sensation all too familiar and terrifying. He felt the sting of tears behind his eyes and cursed himself for his weakness.

A wave of nausea made his body tremble. “Shit, are you going to throw up?” asked the girl, panic evident in her voice.

He nodded frantically, trying to stop his body from convulsing. She quickly passed him a bucket just in time for him to empty his stomach into it. The acrid smell and the sound of his retching filled the room, amplifying his embarrassment and frustration.

She went to open the window, letting the fresh air in. The cool breeze helped ground him a bit. “You don’t have to rush, Kaz,” she said, passing him a few tissues to wipe his mouth.

“I just wanted to... I have been doing better these past days,” he muttered, wiping away the remnants of his failure.

“Yeah, you are, don’t worry,” she assured him, her voice gentle. Without thinking, she rested her hand on his back, making small circles. He didn’t even notice it, from how natural it felt, and for a moment, he allowed himself to be comforted.

“So she’s coming tomorrow?” she asked.

“Yes, she’s staying for a few weeks,” he replied, his voice tinged with anticipation and anxiety.

“You must be happy.”

“I am. I haven’t seen her in three months.”

“Special plans? Oh, you know where you should take her? I saw this place where they do this wine and chocolate tasting thing, must be super romantic.”

Kaz chuckled, imagining Inej in such a fancy place. The thought of her delicate features scrutinizing overpriced chocolate made him smile. “Are you going?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation away from his own nervousness.

The girl snorted, a sharp contrast to the soft concern she had shown moments before. “Yeah, sure, with who exactly?” she replied, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t know, that guy from the club?” Kaz suggested, feeling the awkwardness of the question. He didn’t know why he was prying into her personal life. Maybe it was an attempt to normalize their interaction, or maybe he just wanted to understand her better.

“We’re not seeing each other anymore. We weren’t very compatible,” she said, her tone dismissive.

Kaz wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. Was he supposed to apologize? Or assure her that she would find someone else? The awkwardness of the moment hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable.

“It’s a bit late, Kaz. What do you want to do?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Better go home,” he said, gathering his things. He stole a last glance at her, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and discomfort. He was about to thank her, but then remembered the substantial amount of money he gave her to come over so late. It felt odd to focus on the transactional nature of their relationship when she had seen the most vulnerable parts of him. Embarrassment flushed his cheeks as he muttered a simple, “Goodnight,” and headed straight for his car.

As he drove home, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He couldn't shake the feeling of failure, the constant fear that he would never be able to be the man Inej deserved. The taste of her, the way she felt under his touch, was supposed to give him hope, but all it left was a hollow ache in his chest. He was trying, but it never felt like enough. As he pulled into his driveway, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Tomorrow, he would see Inej. And he had to be better for her. He had to be stronger.

***

Kaz got off the phone and threw it at the wall. The device clattered to the floor, its screen now cracked—a physical manifestation of his frustration. Inej wasn’t coming back. She had just called to talk about a new opportunity someone had proposed to her, and she had to be there. He was proud of the work she was doing, truly, but he couldn't help but feel left in the corner, an afterthought.

Inej had assured him it would only take a few days, that he wouldn’t even notice her absence. He chuckled bitterly at that. Easy for her to say—she wasn’t the one left behind to wait. She was always off on some new adventure, while he remained stuck, paralyzed by his own demons.

His phone buzzed, dragging him back from his spiraling thoughts. Reluctantly, he picked it up. It was a message from Jesper: 'Just talked to Inej. I’m sorry. Want to get drunk?' Kaz stared at the screen for a moment before replying with a simple thumbs-up. It was a weak attempt to push his emotions aside, but it was all he could manage.

With a heavy sigh, Kaz checked Instagram. As he scrolled through the endless stories of people he didn’t care about, one caught his eye—y/n pre-gaming with her friends before heading out. It was a boomerang of her getting on her knees and throwing her head back while another girl poured liquor directly into her mouth from a bottle.

He felt a strange pang of jealousy mixed with irritation. Here he was, struggling with his emotions, and there she was, seemingly carefree and reckless. Guess he wasn’t the only one getting drunk that night, but at least she seemed to be having fun.

Kaz tossed his phone onto the couch and sank into his armchair, his thoughts a tangled mess. He thought about Inej, about how much he missed her. He thought about y/n, about the absurdity of their last encounter. His mind was a whirlwind of frustration, loneliness, and longing.

A knock at the door broke through his reverie. Jesper stood on the other side, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a mischievous grin on his face. “Ready to forget your troubles for a night?”

Kaz managed a weak smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

They settled into the living room, and Jesper poured two generous glasses. They drank in silence at first, the alcohol burning a path down Kaz’s throat and dulling the edge of his thoughts. It was a temporary reprieve, but he welcomed it.

“So, what’s the plan?” Jesper asked after a while, breaking the silence.

Kaz shrugged. “There is no plan. Just get through the night.”

Jesper nodded, raising his glass in a silent toast. “To getting through.”

As they drank, Kaz’s thoughts kept drifting back to y/n. He wondered what she was doing now, if she was thinking about him at all. He knew it was ridiculous—she had her own life, her own problems. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of connection he had felt during their last meeting, despite everything.

He took another sip, trying to drown out the confusion in his mind. Tonight, he would let go, just for a little while. Tomorrow, he would pick up the pieces and try again.

Kaz and Jesper made their way to the Crow Club. He was already leaning heavily on his cane, the weight of the evening and the alcohol slowing him down. The queue outside was longer than ever, but being the owner had its perks. As they passed the waiting patrons, Kaz spotted y/n out of the corner of his eye. She was with her friends, laughing and swaying slightly, clearly already enjoying their night.

He knew he shouldn’t acknowledge her, but he was already a bit drunk and still simmering with anger and frustration over Inej. Impulsively, he gestured towards the girls. “You four,” he called out, his voice cutting through the noise. y/n’s intoxicated eyes widened in surprise. “Come with me.”

The girls followed, giggling and chattering amongst themselves. Kaz led them through the club, bypassing the main floor and heading straight to the VIP area. He offered them a prime table, ensuring they had a good view and plenty of attention from the waitstaff.

Kaz and y/n locked eyes for a brief moment before he turned to leave, making his way to the even more secluded private area with Jesper.

“Kaz, what was that?” Jesper asked, his eyes wide with curiosity and amusement.

Kaz shrugged, trying to play it off. “Don’t know, they looked cold waiting outside,” he mumbled.

“Sure, try to invent something better for next time,” Jesper laughed. “Or should I tell Inej?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

Kaz bristled at the mention of Inej. “Tell her what? That I made four hot girls skip the queue so that some guys will offer them drinks and spend their money in my club? Sure, tell her.”

“There’s no need to get so defensive,” Jesper said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just messing with you.”

Kaz sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s been a long day, Jesper.”

Jesper nodded, his expression softening. “I get it, man. You miss her. But you’ve got to trust that she’ll come back. And in the meantime, you’ve got to take care of yourself.”

Kaz stared into his drink, the amber liquid swirling in the glass. “It’s just hard,” he admitted. “Inej is out there, doing amazing things, and I’m stuck here, trying to keep everything together. I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

Jesper clapped him on the back. “You’re doing your best, Kaz. That’s all anyone can ask for. Now, let’s get drunk and forget about our problems for a while.”

Kaz managed a small smile, raising his glass in a toast. “To forgetting our problems.”

They clinked glasses and drank deeply, each sip a temporary reprieve from the turmoil of their lives. Tonight, Kaz allowed himself to drift away from the weight of responsibilities and emotions that usually anchored him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a message from y/n.

‘Thanks for the table, where’s your hot girlfriend?’ she teased.

‘Had to delay,’ Kaz responded quickly, a touch of guilt creeping into his mind.

‘:(‘ came her disappointed reply.

‘Found someone to take you home?’ Kaz debated whether to send the message or not. Finally, he shrugged and decided to go for it. 'Fuck it,' he thought, 'it's just a text.'

Her response came swiftly, two messages popping up on his screen. ‘Still looking’ followed by ‘Want to step in? :)’

Kaz shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. ‘You wish,’ he typed back before tucking the broken phone back into his pocket.

Jesper, observing Kaz's exchange, couldn't resist teasing. “Who were you texting all smiling?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No one,” Kaz replied casually, attempting to maintain his usual composed facade. But Jesper's knowing look told him he wasn't fooling anyone.

“You're hiding something,” Jesper prodded, his voice filled with curiosity.

“Don't I always?” Kaz quipped, offering a crooked smile as he got up from the table.

Jesper chuckled, shaking his head in amusement as Kaz walked away. They both understood that tonight's laughter and camaraderie were brief respites from their respective troubles. Tomorrow, Kaz would face the reality of Inej's absence once more, and y/n would continue navigating her own tumultuous world. But for now, amidst the clinking of glasses and the dim lights of the Crow Club, they found solace in each other's company and the fleeting escape that alcohol provided.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x fem!reader #six of crows #six of crows fanfic #soc #kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker imagine

139 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months ago

Text

The Lonely Souls Club 6

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: we're almost through the week.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky

Bucky can smell her body soap as it wafts off her. Everything about her makes him giddy. Just walking beside her, getting to look at her, getting to talk to her!

And now, he’s taking her out to lunch. Almost like a real date.

He’s antsy to get to the restaurant. He tried to measure his patience as best he could as he fixed the lock. While she showered and dressed in the small bathroom, he paced her apartment, taking the chance to adjust a few of the cameras. Better, he can see the door.

He is mindful not to walk too fast for her. She seems to be moving a little better. If it’s the short nap she took or the shower, he’s not sure, but he’s happy for it.

She’s shy. He knows she’s often alone and keeps to herself but she sends him sheepish glances only to quickly look away each time their eyes meet. Her heart continues to race just as it did when she awoke to the intruder.

He steps ahead of her and opens the door of the noodle shop. She looks up and her eyes scan the sign then the windows. She lifts her cane in ahead of her as she steps through, “this place is good.”

He smiles. He hasn’t been back since the first time he saw her. Now he’s with her and he can hardly believe it. He follows her in as Mrs. Zhao greets them. She shows her surprise with a clap and a squeal.

“You brought a friend,” she muses.

“Uh, yeah,” he answers as the woman leans on her cane, stuck in limbo between them.

“Let me get you seated,” Zhao speaks to her and ushers her along as Bucky trails behind. They sit in a booth as menus await them and Mrs. Zhao bows before she leaves them.

She, his companion, his date, nestles her cane against the wall of the booth and her eyes flit around. She peeks at the menu then at him. She folds her hands in her lap, making no move to peruse the options further.

“You come here a lot? She knows you?” She glances towards the kitchen.

“Ah, yeah,” he answers with a nervous chuckle, “I don’t always have the energy to cook so…”

She nods and shifts on the seat. He sees how her cheek ticks and she grips the edge of the table to adjust her posture. He flutters his fingers over the laminated menu.

“Is it okay? Are you uncomfortable?” He leans forward.

“Fine,” she ekes out and brings her fingertips to the edge of the menu.

“Right, um, well, if you want a little padding you could sit on my jacket,” he offers.

Her lips curve softly and her brows raise, “that’s really nice but I’m okay.”

She looks down again at the menu. He sees how she chews her lip and slants her mouth. He knows exactly what she’s looking at. Not the dishes but the prices. It's a habit. He’s been there too. Pinching every penny, darning every sock and sleeve until it’s too frayed to mend, stretching broth with water, and washing with no soap. His bad days are over and he wants to help end hers too.

“How about we do the meal for two special,” he offers as he sees her fixate on the sides section. Three spring rolls isn’t going to stop the growling in her stomach that awoke the minute they stepped inside. “It’s a good deal. You can pick the type of noodle.”

“Oh, uh,” she taps her fingers, “I guess… if it makes sense.”

“Yeah, I don’t mind,” he insists. He knows the portions are generous. They’ll get enough for her to take a box home, especially with the rolls and salad on the side. “Do you like Udon or chow mein?”

“I like both,” she says, “udon, maybe, if you like it.”

“Sounds good to me. Broth? I don’t really like the beef, it hurts my stomach.”

“Pork’s good,” she suggests, “if you want.”

“Sure,” he agrees, heartened that she didn’t push back on his idea. She needs a good meal, not half a cup of oatmeal with six raisins on top.

“Tea,” Mrs. Zhao interrupts, a tray in her hand. She sets it down, presenting a big slate gray pot and matching cups.

“Thanks,” he says as she echoes him in a small voice. He gives their order and Mrs. Zhao leaves them with a rosy smile, a definitive look sent from one to the other.

He pours tea into the cups and sets one in front of her. She looks at the contents then him. She thanks him and leans in to inhale the scent. Her stomach rumbles viciously and she winces.

“So, how long have you been in the city?” He asks, turning his own cup nervously.

“Um, since high school,” she answers, “so… a while. What about you?”

“Born and raised,” he says proudly. “Always happen to come back.”

She nods and blows across the tea but doesn’t drink as the steam puffs hotly. Her eyes flit over and her stomach grumbles again. She watches another table as they clink cutlery on their dishes. She’s fighting it but she’s starving.

“Uh, wow, didn’t even realise I’m so hungry,” he says, “I don’t even think I had dinner last night.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs and turns her eyes to the table, “and you didn’t get much sleep. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I’m a bit of an insomniac. Got a bit restless last night and good thing I did or I wouldn’t have been able to scare that guy off, huh,” he stills the cup and flicks his thumb around the curve of the rim.

“I guess,” she puts her hands to her neck and shivers, “that was really scary.”

“Well it’s a good thing I deal with scary people all the time,” he says, “lot of people say the same about me so I guess that helps.”

“Oh,” she bats her lashes and her eyes meet his, “I didn’t mean–”

“I know, I’m joking,” he assures her. She’s so jumpy, he wonders if that has anything to do with her limp. If maybe she’s afraid of everyone and everything for a reason. Well, she won’t have to be, not with him.

“Ah,” she forces a smile, “right.”

“Hey, you held your own,” he sits up straighter, “you swing that cane like a champ.”

“Yeah, ha,” she laughs, just a small one as he reaches for the tea cup again, “I… I hit that guy.”

He chuckles too, “you did. Honestly, I think after that, there’s no way he’ll be back.”

Her

You try to eat slowly and it doesn’t take much before you’re painfully full. You put the chopsticks down and take a napkin to wipe your mouth. Bucky smiles at you, a noodle hanging from his lips as he slurps it up.

“Sorry,” he covers his mouth, “caught me at a bad moment.”

“It’s good, I… I’m full,” you look at the noodles still left in your bowl.

“Oh, no worries, we’ll just ask for a container,” he says, “be good to have some leftovers in the fridge… just in case.”

“Uh, yeah,” you agree. You wonder if maybe he saw inside your empty fridge or he just means well.

“I’m getting there myself,” he stirs his bowl with his chopsticks.

She nods and he raises his hand as he sees Mrs. Zhao, the namesake for the restaurant, “excuse me, hi, sorry, whenever you have a chance.”

She acquiesces and rushes off. He sits back and smacks his stomach, “mm, did you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s very good,” you agree.

Mrs. Zhao returns and offers the bill to Bucky. You look away, embarrassed.

“I forgot to mention, can you add a box of tea,” he hands it back.

She agrees and whisks off again. You sit in silence, awkwardly searching the restaurant. You would offer to pay for your own but you can’t. You’re dirt poor. You can’t help but think he knows it too. No one is that nice. It only takes one look around your place to see it.

Zhao returns once more, sets a box of tea before him and some containers, then the bill. He pays in cash and tells her to keep the change. She chimes thankfully and wishes you both a good day. You pour your noodles into the container and seal the lid. Bucky does the same.

You grab your cane and turn on the bench, dragging yourself across to plant it on the floor. You brace the table and stand as he does so much easier than you. He takes his container and yours, stacking them atop each other, then the tea on the very top.

“Oh, thanks,” you utter as you get your feet set.

“No problem,” he grins.

He waits for you to go first. You make a slow, uneven advance to the door. You keep your eyes straight as you refuse to notice the glances sent in your direction. The lucky cat by the door waves in farewell as you approach.

Bucky reaches past you and opens the door before you can. You limp out into the street. Your hip burns from the thin cushion of the booth bench.

“That was nice,” he says as he walks beside you, again patiently keeping pace with you.

“It was,” you agree, “it’s really kind of you.”

“You act like having lunch with a pretty girl is a chore,” he jokes.

You scoff, “please.”

“Please what,” he tilts his head.

Your chest pinches and your face heats up, “you’re just being nice.”

“No,” he argues, “I don’t lie.”

A sudden flash glares to your left and your toe catches in the sidewalk. You stagger and land on one knee, the pavement dinging the bony cap harshly as you catch yourself with a hand. Your cane clatters beside you as you look around in confusion.

“Hey, what the hell?” Bucky barks, his voice deeper and scarier than before. “Don’t do that.”

You glance over at a man with a large camera. He blanches from behind the lens but takes another photo. Bucky shifts as if he might lunge at the photographer and he runs off.

Bucky sighs and reaches to grab your arm, gentle but firm.

“Hey, you alright?” He asks in concern, his other arm hugging the containers.

“Yeah, I didn’t see him. I’m sorry, I must’ve stepped on a crack–”

“That jack– guy should be apologising,” he sneers, “so rude.”

“Yeah, I…” you hiss as you grab your cane. He holds onto you, helping you rise, but not too quickly, “I… why would he…” you peer over your shoulder then back to him, “are you famous?”

He huffs and shrugs, “I guess to some people.”

You furrow your brow and let your shoulders sink, “oh.”

“I don’t really think about it, you know? I got a job and I do it. All the attention, I hate it,” his hand slips down your arm and reluctantly falls away. You swallow and turn back down the sidewalk. He walks with you, quiet for a moment before he speaks again, “does that mean you don’t wanna be friends?”

You think as your cane taps between your footsteps, “I didn’t… No, I just…” you take a breath, “I’ve never known anyone famous.”

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” he sighs.

“Yeah, seems like.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the lonely souls club #series #falcon and the winter soldier #avengers #mcu #marvel #captain america

190 notes · View notes

diornae · 1 year ago

Text

Raising Canes

Size 20x15

Price - 270,142

Location - Willow Creek

Lot type - restaurant u need dine out to be functional

Raising Cane's Chicken Fingers is an American fast-food chain specializing in chicken fingers founded in 1996 in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, by Todd Graves and Craig Silvey. The company is named after Graves' dog, a yellow Labrador.

Make sure to enable bb.moveobjects on

Download

U need Scodee Yodee signs here

475 notes · View notes

savemefromanepicoftimewasted · 10 months ago

Text

In Every Trio There's Always A Duo Pt. 2

John Price X F!Reader

thank you to everyone who voted for this in the poll! I've been stuck in a rut for forever and needed something to help break that rut. as always feedback is highly appreciated!

warnings: mentions of past injuries, panic attacks, slight vulgar language, Price being protective

While you hadn’t been honorably discharged(which honestly sounded like a much better option at this rate)you were put on permanent desk duty. Learning to walk was a struggle that had taken over the course of a year for you to finally get comfortable with. John had been by your side every step of the way, cheering you on even when you were ready to quit. It had been a nice surprise, knowing he was so supportive. He’d taken a short leave once you had finished the intense physical therapy, wanting to make sure you would be alright. No one had known that you had moved in together, John kept everything quiet for your privacy.

Johnny and Simon had wanted to broach the subject of speaking with you and discussing the matter of everything that had happened, but you weren’t ready. You weren’t sure if you were ever going to be ready. You’d started seeing a therapist to get everything off your chest, had it truly been your own fault that you were unaware of how Johnny and Simon felt about you? Of course your therapist was adamant that no, you were not at fault for their actions. They were your comrades, and when it mattered most that everyone was kept safe, you had been caught in the crossfire.

The memories haunt your dreams daily, you would wake up covered in sweat thinking you were back in the enemies hands. John would always be there, calming you down until you realized you were safe, there was nothing there to attack you. Even if the wounds had healed, the constant reminder that you couldn’t even walk around without a cane.

“Hey, you doing alright, sweetheart?” John was propped against the open door, arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah, just trying to get through this mountain of paperwork so I can head to lunch.” You’d gotten so into your work you hadn’t realized how late it actually was.

“Darling, it’s dinner time.” John raised a brow, had you not gotten up to even get a glass of water?

“Oh, well shit.” You muttered under your breath, reaching over for your cane.

John kept his distance, he’d offer assistance if you asked but never wanted you to feel like you absolutely had to use his arm. It was nice to know he didn’t see you as an invalid, unable to do something as simple as walking. The only times he would ever refuse to let you walk is whenever you’d fallen asleep on the couch, carrying you up to your shared room.

“Got distracted again, didn’t you?” John smirked as you reached his side, he couldn’t fault you for it though, he’d done the same many times before.

“It was all those damn mission reports Laswell sent over. She wanted them done by lunch and I completely forgot.” You sighed, leaning against his chest and breathing in the soft scent of his cologne.

Any cologne, perfume, or body spray was strictly forbidden when on base, but John always managed to sneak some because he knew you loved it so much. No one dared to try and bring it up to John, lest they piss off their Captain and be put on latrine duty. Johnny had wanted to jokingly reprimand him, how wearing cologne wasn’t allowed but then he remembered. Until things had calmed down, he was going to keep his head down and wait.

John wasn’t a monster though, he worked well with his team and made sure that everyone made it back home with no injuries if he could. However, his thoughts were always filled with you, if you were eating, if you were having nightmares. God, he was absolutely smitten with you and everyone could see it.

“I’ll call her tomorrow, tell her not to send reports that are nearly overdue.” John wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling your body flush to his own.

“I still need to do my job, don’t worry about me.” You patted his side, smiling into the fabric of his shirt.

“I always worry, gotta make sure my love is doing alright.” John pressed a kiss to your hair, rocking you both gently.

It was a nice feeling, being held so comfortably in his arms. You’d pictured your future together many times, curious if he felt the same way about things. It’d been just over two years since the incident, and things were going well. You had been living together for a little over a year, officially asking John to ditch his old flat and move into yours. It was only because you had the space, and not because of the stairs in his, totally not.

“I’ve been thinking…maybe it’s time for me to retire. And before you start freaking out and saying that I don’t need to, I want to.” You’d been debating it for a while, it would be easier to retire and find something else to occupy your time.

“As long as you’re sure, I don’t want you making any rash decisions because of what you believe my feelings would be.” John had been the one to fight to keep you on the task force, and while it was true you didn’t want to disappoint him, you hated doing paperwork.

“I’m sure. I’ll talk with Laswell about getting the paperwork ready.” It would be less stress on your end, which meant less walking and irritating your leg even more.

It would be a change for sure, but you couldn’t let everything from the past ruin what could turn into a bright future for you. ~~~~~~

It hadn’t been your idea to head out to lunch for the day, frankly you were more than ready to curl up on the couch and relax for the rest of the day. So, when John suddenly decided that the two of you should head out to get something to eat, you were suspicious. Now that isn’t to say that John couldn’t be spontaneous at times, but given everything that had happened? You were just a little bit wary of the situation. You’d thrown together a quick outfit, stealing one of his jackets since the air was beginning to chill.

“Well, well, look at this gorgeous lady.” John smirked as you walked over to him slowly. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes jokingly, pressing more of your weight against your cane.

“That’s only because a certain someone decided it was a great idea to head out and get lunch.” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips, smiling as his stubble grazed your skin.

“And it is, so let’s get going before all the good tables are gone.” John grabbed his wallet before helping you out to the car.

The good thing was that he didn’t hover. Whether it was during your rigorous physical therapy or your current journey, he gave you space when needed. There were times you wanted nothing more than for him to pick you up and just carry you everywhere, but that was overkill. Maybe he would offer to carry you over the threshold if you ever got married.

Marriage, a word neither of you had uttered after your relationship had become more serious, almost as if it were a dirty word. You knew after a few months that John was the only man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, and if that meant never getting married, you were happy. Marriage, a family, those were things that you’d once truly wanted, but after all the horrors you’d bore witness to? You couldn’t bring a child into this world knowing it would never be truly safe for them.

“I already checked the layout and they do have stairs, so if you need help just let me know.” John’s voice was gruff, low and gravelly as he pulled into the seemingly small parking lot.

“We can check them out first.” You liked being independent, not wanting to feel so helpless at times.

John parked the truck and slipped out before you had even managed to slip off your seatbelt, coming around to your side and opening the door with your cane in his right hand. You swung your legs out of the car, taking the cane from his hand and scooting to the edge of the seat slowly. Once your good leg was on the ground you slowly stepped down with your bag leg. Your arm braced with the cane as you stood up, fully supporting you nodded at John.

John waited until you had stepped away from the truck before shutting the door, the sun was shining brightly as you both turned to make your way to the restaurant. There were two people standing outside, talking with one another quietly enough that you couldn’t hear them. A soft gasp slipped through your lips as you realized exactly who it was.

“John!” You turned and slapped his upper arm, jaw dropped open as he laughed.

“Sorry, I wanted to surprise you, didn’t think they would still be outside.” John smiled and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“Well, consider me very surprised right now.” You shook your head and sped up your movements, wanting to greet them sooner.

John bit his tongue harshly, he knew better than to chastise you when you were excited to greet old friends, but god dammit he hated it when you didn’t listen to him. Their loud cheers echoed across the area as they both embraced you.

“It’s been so long! What are you even doing here?” You smiled over at Farah, eyes twinkling in the bright sun.

“We got a call from a certain captain asking us to come visit, and we couldn't say no.” Farah smiled over at John as he reached your side, an arm wrapping around your waist.

“Really?” You turned to look over at him, grateful and thankful he’d called in this favor for you.

“Of course. I know you've been feeling down lately, and I wanted to help you feel better.” John’s eyes crinkled as he smiled widely, gesturing towards the restaurant.

Alex held the door open for the three of you to head inside, waiting patiently as you made your way up the steps. John stood behind you, waiting to assist in case you needed him to at any moment. Once you were inside and seated everyone seemed to let out a soft sigh of relief. You’d known about Alex’s leg, it was one of the reasons you’d gotten so close over the last year, even if you hadn’t lost your actual leg, he understood your pain and struggle.

“You know? You and John actually kind of look alike.” You glanced between Alex and John, taking in their features.

Of course Alex was younger than your boyfriend but if the both of them shaved? They could definitely pass as brothers. Then again there were the two full sleeve tattoos that Alex had on his arms. Okay, okay, maybe the actual biggest difference was their accents, but your statement still stood.

“Darling, that’s the first thing you’re going to talk about?” John raised a brow and chuckled, turning to take a sip of his water.

“Yes! I’ve been cooped up in that damn office all week, I felt like I was going to go crazy.” You smiled and laid a hand on his knee.

The food was delicious, more along the line of appetizers and finger foods rather than a meal if you were honest. The conversation flowed so smoothly, not so much as an awkward silence as you all cracked jokes or told stories of everything that had been going on. You were so unaware of the world around you except for the four of you at the table you hadn’t noticed John slip out of his chair. Alex’s eyes widened as he caught on, jaw dropping open slightly. Your brow furrowed as you followed his line of sight, a loud and shocked gasp slipping through your lips.

“Darling, I know we’ve only been officially dating for just over a year, but I’ve known since the day we met that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. You’ve been through something that most people wouldn’t have been able to handle and you came out even stronger than before. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” John slipped open the small box, a gorgeous ring nestled inside the black velvet.

“Yes, a thousand times yes! I will absolutely marry you!” You wanted to throw yourself into his arms but thought better of it.

John smiled widely as he slipped the ring onto your finger, pulling your fingers to his lips to press a soft kiss to each one. The entire restaurant burst into applause, cheering loudly for you both. Alex and Farah snapped a few photos, the two of them smiling happily for you. While Alex had no clue at all that John was going to propose, Farah had helped him find the perfect ring. She may have stalked your social media, finding your pinterest to find what you loved most. John was shocked at how much effort and work she’d put in, but right now he was so grateful for it.

“I love you so much darling, more than you’ll ever know.” John pressed a soft kiss to your lips, keeping you close as you cried.

“I love you too.” You sniffled, reaching up to wipe away your tears.

John pulled you into a tight embrace, pressing kisses all over your face. You laughed and pushed him away, albeit very weakly. It was a reminder that sometimes good things did happen in life. It was in that moment that you suddenly realized something, you would be announcing your engagement eventually to the entire crew. Which meant both Simon and Johnny would find out as well.

Should you have talked to them about everything that had happened? Sure. Except you didn’t want to, you wanted to avoid talking with them at all costs. It was mainly because you were still dealing with the issue with this leg. Maybe you could smooth things over, but at the end of the day you weren’t entirely sure.

The rest of lunch was eventful, Farah and Alex sending you the photos and videos they’d been able to take during the proposal. You couldn’t stop staring at the ring, a bright smile on your face as you thought about what your future entailed. You weren’t going to rush into planning, you wanted everything to be as stress free as it could be.

“Don’t be strangers! We’ll send the invite when we set a date.” You hugged Farah close, smiling as she squeezed your waist tighter.

“We’ll do our best to be there, if we can’t I expect to see all the lovely pictures.” Farah would make sure to be there for you and John, even if she had to drop everything last minute.

“Of course, if you can’t make it I’ll make sure John sends them to you right away.” You patted her arm gently, taking your cane as John stepped over to you.

Saying goodbye to friends you didn’t get to see much never got any easier, it was understandable of course but it never hurt any less. John would do whatever he could to make the rest of the day special for you, even if that meant going home and running a bath. On second thought, a bath might soothe your aching muscles so you could actually help with dinner.

“John, what do you-” You were cut off by the sound of a voice, rather two, calling your name.

As you turned to address whomever was calling you, your heart seemed to stop in your chest.

“Simon…”

tagging: @gaylemonshark

#captain john price #john price x y/n #john price x you #john price x reader #john price #captain price #captain johnathan price #tf141 #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #farah karim #alex keller #john price angst #john price fic

163 notes · View notes

theswordwrites · 3 months ago

Text

PART ONE (the alchemy)

Juniper receives good news and has no choice but to celebrate with her closest friends, leading her right into the path of Aemond Targaryen (again.)

(TW: 18+ partying, drug use, nothing too crazy!)

word count: 4.3k

NEXT PART

By midnight, June’s feet ached in the heels required by her uniform. It was ridiculous, truly. The gala attendees barely looked at her for longer than a few seconds, so why was she squeezed into a cocktail dress that had probably been handed down a dozen times and shoes that made her calves tense and sore for days? As she ran drinks to and from tables, flashing her best million-dollar smile, she reminded herself the paycheck would be worth it. Her rent would be paid, her credit card debt knocked down, and she could finally buy the cat tree that had been sitting in her online shopping cart for weeks. Maybe she’d even splurge on a night out at The Velvet Throne with her roommate, Arianne, and their friends.

After a night working the Green Party’s latest altruistic-yet-off-putting kickoff gala, she would need at least four martinis and a cigarette. She had spotted Alicent Hightower, as beautiful as ever, gliding through the room in a deep sage silk gown. June wasn’t sure what the gala was raising money for, but they had raised a hell of a lot of it. She had to admit, Alicent was so stunning she might have emptied her own pockets for her, too. The Targaryen-Hightower children had made an appearance. The eldest—whose name escaped her—was drunk by the time the opening speeches began. Helaena had left early, trailed by three bodyguards. She’d seen the second son, Aemond, only from behind. Taller than his older brother, and surprisingly, not wearing green. Odd, considering the rumor was he was at odds with party advisors ahead of the election.

That morning, Arianne, Edith, and Seraphina had dissected the election over bagels and coffee. Edith claimed he seemed different from his father, with more progressive policies aimed at gaining the younger generation's vote. Arianne rolled her eyes and insisted he might put on a good show, but he was just as much a Targaryen as his father, with his scheming grandfather pulling the strings. “I’m sure he’ll say anything to get into office, and once he’s there, he’ll line his pockets like the rest of them.”

June had stayed quiet, editing her thesis on her laptop and mulling over her use of the word "delve." She had no faith in the system, nor those who upheld it. But she had heard a speech Aemond had given about student debt, arguing that education shouldn't have a price because knowledge was power, and everyday people deserved to hold it. It intrigued her—how young he was, and the impact that could have. She promised herself she would research more closer to the election and do her duty as a citizen of Westeros. Her brain was too full of edits and deadlines to give it much space now.

“June, we need more champagnes to the front table, like right now,” one of the other servers hissed at her, voice anything but subtle. She nodded and forced her aching legs to move.

At the table sat the Hightowers and their equally powerful, politically savvy friends. She spotted Larys Strong, who had served the late Prime Minister, looking as intense and off-putting as ever as he leaned on his cane. Jason Lannister's spray tan was a shade too deep, and June had to bite back a giggle. How could someone be so rich and yet so blind? Surely, he could hire someone to remind him that a few hours was more than enough.

She set the glasses down gently, adding a smile and a dragon-embossed napkin. June tried to ignore that Alicent Hightower was looking at her but managed a polite, “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“I think we’re okay for now, thank you,” Alicent replied, her voice as graceful as her movements.

June smiled again, hoping her lipstick hadn’t smudged, and glanced around the table. The eldest Targaryen son sat to Alicent’s left, and next to him was Aemond, the current parliamentary candidate. He was all sharp lines and elegance, with blue eyes that were now fixed on her. June paled, frozen in place. Her gaze traveled from his silver hair to the scar etched over his eye and then to the gold signet ring on his pinky.

He was a Targaryen in every sense of the word, elegantly leaned back in his chair, hands folded on the table, eyes like steel.

The seconds stretched into an eternity before her brain caught up with her body. With another awkward grin and a slight tilt of her head, she turned—no, scurried—away.

Nothing embarrassed June more than feeling out of place. And that had been mortifying.

Back in the kitchen, she sipped water and fanned her face, hoping she wasn’t too flushed. She quickly asked the manager—an older woman with a sharp determination to break in the new servers—if she could take her first break. The manager nodded, and June didn’t waste a second before slipping outside. The cool air of a late August evening felt refreshing against her skin, drawing out some of the heat as she leaned against the brick wall. Her phone dinged.

TO: JUNIPER GREYSONFROM: DR. ORWYLE

Miss Greyson,

I apologize for the late correspondence. I have just received confirmation that your dissertation has been approved by the committee. Please call my office tomorrow morning to set a date for your defense.

CongratulationsSent from my iPhone

She squealed—a high-pitched, elated sound that escaped before she could stop it. It didn’t matter who heard. She had spent three years on that thesis, hours upon hours of research and writing and scraping by, and now she’d done it. Her fingers found Arianne’s contact, and she didn't care if the brunette was with her “so-not-my-girlfriend” girlfriend.

After a single ring, Arianne answered, “Junie! Are you off work yet?”

“No, not yet. Another hour, maybe. Do you have a second?”

“For my beautiful, smart, strawberry blonde best friend? Of course!” June could picture her now, animated, hands moving as she spoke. Arianne always had a flair for the dramatic—and for flattery, which June usually appreciated.

“It got approved! My thesis, I mean. Dr. Orwyle just emailed. It’s going to committee as soon as I set a date.”

Through the phone came another excited, ear-piercing squeal.

“Oh, Seven! June, that’s incredible! I knew you could do it!”

“I—” June stuttered, adrenaline catching up to her, “I think I’m in shock. I expected another round of edits, you know? The conclusion didn’t feel right on the last read—”

Arianne cut her off before she could spiral into self-doubt. “Breathe, Junie. You got approved! That’s the only thing that matters right now. Any chance you can leave early so we can celebrate?”

June glanced from her phone to the open kitchen door. “Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll be home.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Arianne, Edith, and Seraphina were waiting for her with wide grins and a drink in hand when she finally stumbled through the front door. In the mere twenty minutes it had taken June to get home, they had somehow managed to drape a glittering “Congratulations!” banner across the mantle, fill the room with balloons, and crack open a bottle of champagne. The faint scent of perfume and laughter filled the air.

Her heart swelled as they swarmed her, squealing and hugging her like they hadn't seen her in years. "Junie, we are so, so proud of you!" Edith sang, throwing her long arms around June in a hug that rocked them back and forth. The others echoed their congratulations, their voices bright and cheerful, brimming with the kind of excitement only best friends can muster.

They didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath, herded her straight to the bathroom, insisting she shower and change. She let them fuss over her, laughing as they debated outfits, finally settling on something so skimpy it would’ve made her mother clutch her pearls in horror.

For a moment, June thought of her mother, a sharp pang tugging at her chest. She should call her, share the news— but just as quickly, she shoved the thought away, burying it deep. Her mother had been so distant since the accident, so different from the bubbly, over-involved PTA mom who used to cheer too loudly at every recital, every bake sale. It broke June’s heart, but it had been three years, and she had learned to lock those feelings away in a box that she only opened on rare, quiet nights. She was different now too—tougher, more self-reliant. Or at least that’s what she told herself as she swiped concealer under her eyes and dabbed on a thick layer of blush.

"Come on, Junie, let’s go!" Arianne urged, grabbing her arm with a grin. "The Velvet Throne is gonna have a line out the door!"

She barely had time to grab her purse before they were out the door, tumbling into the warm night air. The city buzzed around them—cars honked, street lights flickered, and the distant thrum of music seemed to pulse from every corner. They giggled like schoolgirls as they raced down the street in their high heels, their excitement infectious. After a few glasses of champagne, the ache in her feet had disappeared and she was ready to dance.

When they reached the Velvet Throne, the line was indeed snaking around the block, a mass of people dressed to impress, chattering with anticipation. But Edith, ever the charmer, knew the bouncer. With a coy smile and a flutter of her eyelashes, they were whisked inside and escorted up to the VIP level.

The music hit her like a wave, a deep, pounding bass that vibrated in her chests. One drink turned into two, two into three. The bartender, hearing their redheaded friend was on her way to becoming a doctor, poured them free shots. June held her breath, pinched her nose, and downed it, wincing at the bitter taste but reveling in the warm, numbing sensation that spread through her limbs. The music was so loud it seemed to drown out her thoughts, and for the first time in a long time, she let go.

She danced like she was weightless, the beat coursing through her veins, her friends spinning around her, hair flying, eyes sparkling under the neon lights. They were all in their own little world, a blur of laughter, movement, and joy. At one point, she caught sight of Edith slipping a small baggie from a man in a dark jacket, his expression unreadable.

Edith grabbed her hand, pulling her into a corner and shouting over the music, "Cregan’s at a party at the Keep! He said we’re invited." She opened her palm, revealing the little baggie with a sly grin. "I say we take our new little friend here," she gestured to the baggie, "and head over! Lots of sexy, rich men and free drinks!"

The girls cheered, their excitement infectious, and June felt a surge of adrenaline. This night was far from over.

The Keep was the heart of King’s Landing, home to the city’s wealthiest and most influential residents. The girls had been to a few parties there before, the most memorable being the one where Seraphina ended up spending the night with a Prince from Dorne. They hadn’t let her live it down for months, teasing her with “Your Majesty” until they were breathless with laughter. The prince had texted her the next day, practically begging her to hop on the flight back with him. Sera had only shrugged, saying that while he was amazing in bed and seemed like a nice guy, living in the public eye wasn't for her.

Arianne and Edith had disagreed, dreaming up all the scandalous headlines they’d make if they were ever involved with someone so high-profile. "We’d be the perfect all-Westerosi girls," Arianne had insisted, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

June, as usual, had just nodded and giggled along, content to listen. But now, with the buzz of champagne and a little powder still fresh in her system, she was feeling more chatty. “How did Cregan manage to get into a party at the Keep?” she asked, her voice louder than she intended, her words slightly slurred.

Edith shrugged, adjusting the hem of her skirt. “Old money, babe. His parents have a house there. I’m sure he’s got connections.”

June leaned in closer, her eyebrows raised, chin tipped playfully. “So, are you two ever going to date? Or finally address all that crazy sexual tension?”

Edith laughed, tossing her hair back, her eyes gleaming under the streetlights. “Ask me that tomorrow,” she replied with a wink, just as a car pulled up to the curb. She quickly touched up everyone’s lipstick and hair with a practiced hand. “That’s us!” she shouted.

The Uber ride was a blur, the city lights whizzing by in streaks of neon and gold. It took only fifteen minutes, thanks to the late-night traffic, but it felt like a heartbeat. By now, it was past three in the morning, and though June wouldn’t admit it, she could feel the exhaustion creeping in, the night beginning to weigh heavy on her bones. Still, she was committed to the bit, the thrill of the night pushing her forward.

Cregan was waiting for them outside, leaning casually against the wall in his usual outfit: an open button-up shirt and jeans that clung just right. They exchanged quick hellos, June’s eyes flicking to Edith, who was already batting her lashes and nodding eagerly at everything Cregan said. She nudged Sera with her elbow, tilting her head toward the two of them.

“He’s definitely ending up at your place tonight, I hope you can sleep through it.” June whispered, twisting the silver ring around her middle finger. Sera managed a quick eye roll before they were whisked inside.

The drunk crowd sprawled across the plush living room seemed almost out of place, like they’d stumbled into the wrong kind of party. The room felt like it belonged to someone who read classic novels by the fireplace or debated politics over brandy. June noticed a distinct lack of personal photos; instead, the walls were adorned with stunning artwork, pieces that seemed to glow under the soft lighting and made her mouth water with envy.

She glanced up, her eyes following the endless ceilings that stretched toward a glittering chandelier, so ornate it looked like it belonged in a palace. Above it, a second level.

“Who’s place is this anyway?” she asked, turning to Cregan.

He tore his gaze away from Edith, though his hand remained comfortably on her lower back. “One of the Targaryens,” he replied with a casual grin. “I play ball with Aegon on the weekends. He’s around here somewhere.”

June raised an eyebrow, amused by the casualness of his tone, as if dropping the name of one of the city’s most influential families was no big deal, “He’s the oldest, right?” Cregan nodded, “I worked their gala event tonight. Rumor has it he left early because he was smashed.”

An arm slid around her shoulder, the weight of it startling her. She could see blonde curls from the corner of her eye. A voice, smooth and amused, spoke close to her ear. “Smashed would be correct, little red. But I have sobered up enough to throw one hell of a party.”

“June, meet Aegon. Aegon, meet Juniper Greyson.” Cregan interjected, gesturing between them. The blonde took his arm away from her shoulders and offered his hand to shake.

June took it, taking him in. While he and his brother shared the same icy hair and serene blue eyes, there was a softness to Aegon’s features that set him apart. His nose had a gentle slope, and his eyes, though strikingly similar in color, lacked the hard edge she’d seen in his brother— but were identical to their mother’s set and shape.

Aegon turned his attention to her friends, his grin widening as he introduced himself. His blue eyes stuck to Seraphina as they walked to the kitchen. June withheld her giggle, watching Sera blush under his gaze.

The girls chatted and the boys eventually drifted away to find more of their friends, not before finding the girls cans of seltzers and bottles of water. June watched as her friends chatted, feeling that odd sensation of being inside the conversation, but also outside of it. She figured the drinking, dancing and coke had caught up to her.

“I’m gonna find the bathroom— be right back.” She gave her friends a tightlipped smile.

“Want me to come?” Edith offered, but June shook her head.

“No, I’m alright. Go talk to Cregan again, he’s been staring at you this whole time.” She nodded her head at him across the room, and he quickly looked away, almost embarrassed that he’d been caught.

The first bathroom had been occupied but what she could only assume to be the raunchiest couple in King’s Landing with the sounds that they were making. She scoffed, sure she hadn’t really ever had mind-blowing sex, but that level of noise was just so obviously unnecessary. The second had just been locked with no answer to her knock. She sighed as she made her way up the stairs, finding not a single bathroom, but a bedroom with one connected.

After taking care of her business and washing her hands, drying them off on the fluffiest hand towel she had ever touched, she wandered around the bedroom. It felt wrong to snoop, but with the lack of trinkets or personal belongings she assumed it must have been a guest room. The bookshelf was full of classics and history books, a few well-loved first editions she could guess by the aged and worn spines. Now, in the silence, her head began to pound as the music faded away. She counted the drinks in her head.

One at home. Three at the bar. Add two shots at the bar. One downstairs. Two lines in between.

She realized she had definitely overdone it. While June enjoyed nights like these with her friends—welcomed them even—it wasn’t something she wanted to make a habit of every weekend. The way her vision blurred told her it would take weeks to muster the courage to drink again. Sitting on the bed, she ran her fingers over the dark green quilt and giggled.

Green. Of course it was green. Like the hand towel and the bathroom rug. She wondered if that’s what the owner of the room had told the interior designer, “Well, you see I like green. And I’m so, disgustingly rich.” She said aloud in the poshest accent she could manage, making herself laugh even harder.

The door swinging open seemed to sober her up quickly, pulling any laughter out of her chest.

She looked up, horrified to find Aemond Targaryen in the doorframe. He was wearing the same dark suit from earlier in the evening, but his jacket had been shrugged off and tossed over his arm and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. “You.” He said, something like recognition washing over his face.

“Me,” June stammered, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks. “I, uh, just needed to use the bathroom and get away from the crowd for a moment. The one downstairs was occupied by a couple making the most disgusting noises, and the other one was locked—someone probably doing coke or something. I thought this was a guest room. I’m sorry. I should go. My friends might be looking for me.” She rambled on, the alcohol making her spill a play-by-play of how she ended up in his bedroom.

Aemond remained in the doorway, his expression unreadable. Despite leaning against the frame, he was still a head and a half taller than her. “You were at the event tonight, and now you’re in my bedroom. Stalking me?”

“You’re a very tough guy to stalk, Mr. Targaryen. I spent all night knocking on doors until Aegon let me in here,” June found herself looking down at her feet, the carpet much easier to maintain eye contact with.

“So, you’re friends with Aegon then?”

“No, not really. One of my friends is kind of seeing Cregan Stark, and he’s friends with Aegon. We were out celebrating and he invited us. I didn’t realize whose house it was—or that you must live here with Aegon.”

“I don’t live here with Aegon. The place is mine, but Aegon thought it’d be a good joke to throw a party here.” He crossed his long arms over his chest, and June tried to ignore the enticing hint of skin peeking from his undone shirt.

“Oh, that’s kind of shitty.”

“Kind of shitty should be Aegon’s middle name. I’ve already kicked everyone out. Your friends might be gone, but if my driver is still out front, I can have him take you home.” He gestured to the hallway and began to walk. June followed, too tired to argue.

“You don’t have to. I can call an Uber.” She said, not wanting to be a bother. But she did think, in the back of her mind, that Edith would have a fit if she knew Aemond Targaryen’s personal driver had taken her home. Arianne would pretend to be less impressed, but would hound her later on the make and model; asking if there was a privacy shade and free champagne.

“Ride-share crime has gone up 10% last quarter, I can’t in good conscience—especially not to a constituent.”

“Trying to win my vote, Mr. Targaryen?” She asked, grinning.

“I was hoping I already had it.”

“You probably do. I saw your student debt speech and liked it, but I’ve been putting off thinking about the election until school settles down. So I can make a well-informed decision of course.”

They descended the stairs. Indeed, Aemond had kicked everyone out, and only Aegon lay sprawled on the leather sofa. “Little red! I see you met my brother, charmer isn’t he?”

Aemond’s gaze was cold as he replied, “Go back to sleep, you oaf. I’m going to have Criston take her home.”

“Oh, I sent Criston back home. Oops.” Aegon giggled, clearly drunker than the last time she saw him. Aemond only sighed as they reached the door.

“I can take you home. I don’t drink, so I’m as sober as can be.”

June nodded, again too tired to argue. The liquor made her pliant, and she was eager to get home. Aemond led her to a sleek black Mercedes, opening the door for her with a practiced ease. She found the gesture oddly chivalrous.

As he turned on the engine, the hum of the car snapped her out of her daze. She glanced around at the luxurious, leather interior. “You’re a PhD student at KLU, right?”

“Stalking me, Mr. Targaryen?” She peered at him.

“Aemond,” he corrected, his tone softer but still firm, glancing over at her as he handed her his phone, maps open and ready for her to enter her address. “Call me Aemond, please. ‘Mr.’ makes me feel old. I stepped out for a smoke this evening and overheard you on the phone. Congratulations, by the way. Dr. Orwyle is not an easy man to impress.”

“Oh.” June’s lips curled into a smile at the praise as she handed his phone back to him. She watched as the map popped up on the car’s screen, showing it was only a ten-minute drive home. “Thank you. I’m excited for it to be over, I think. You studied under Dr. Orwyle?”

She found herself looking at him again, her gaze lingering on his muscular hand gripping the steering wheel. “For my first PhD. He was a hard-ass, but pressure makes diamonds, and I couldn’t have done it without him.”

“Were you nervous for your defense? I know you do speeches all the time now, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s going to be the hardest part.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” He asked, his voice dropping close to a whisper, as if anyone else could hear him. “I still get nervous. Every time. Whether it's a crowd of twenty or two thousand. But I remind myself that it’s not about me; it’s about the content, about getting people to listen. All the other stuff—the cadence of your voice or your posture—will come naturally.”

She hummed in response, her head resting against the cold window. The city lights blurred past, and she wondered if Edith had gone home with Cregan. “That’s good advice, thank you.”

“If politics doesn’t work out, my mother thinks I should go into consulting. Perhaps I have a knack for it.” He glanced over at her, his gaze intense. June tried to imagine the setting of that conversation. Was he worried about losing, or was the confidence from his team (or his family) faltering?

“You might, but I think politics might suit you better. The whole country seems to be buzzing about you.”

He shrugged, a flicker of something—appreciation, relief?—in his eyes. “We’ll have to see if that's the case in a few months.”

“Oh, this is me, with the red door.” She pointed out, and he brought the car to a slow stop. Before she could unbuckle her seat belt, he was out of the driver’s side and rounding the car to open the door for her. She found his chivalry oddly compelling, a sharp contrast to his earlier indifference to seemingly everything and everyone.

“Thank you for giving me a ride home, Aemond,” she said again, her voice tinged with genuine gratitude and something more. He just nodded, watching her unlock the door and step inside.

Juniper and Aemond failed to notice the blacked out SUV across the street, a long camera lens poking out of the passenger side, snapping away.

okay part one is out! I see this being 7-12 parts, depending on how much i daydream about it in class tomorrow. please leave comments questions etc! so excited to share this <3

#modern!aemond targaryen x original female character #modern!aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond #modern au #aegon ii targaryen #aemond x reader #creepy larys #beautiful alicent #drunk aegon

60 notes · View notes

mariacallous · 10 days ago

Text

this was in response to that post with the information that RFK Jr wanted to make companies use cane sugar instead of high-fructose corn syrup, which would raise prices because of the tariffs

and people just...continue to miss the fucking point

35 notes · View notes

monst · 2 months ago

Text

Day 4: Let's go home

Shibari | Kakashi Hatake

Warnings: 18+ content (MDI) Oral. Fem receiving, Shibari, Public, blink and you miss it plot. Established relationship. Anbu! F. Reader, Takes place pre-Shippuden a week before the time skip, Infiltration expert, Minor off-screen character death

Wc: 2.8k

The cries of the cicadas only grew louder as the sun sailed through the sky. You groan at what that meant, your underlayer was already drenched with sweat, and you couldn’t believe it was about to get muggier. You did not doubt that the bean jam cakes in your satchel were more paste than anything by now. It's a shame you hadn’t gotten to eat them fresh when you stopped at Ama-ama an. You should’ve put them in a scroll.

You were grateful that your party was nearing the land of wind's borders. You’d take the dry air of the desert any day over the gross humidity on the coasts of the land of rivers. You scan the treeline across the bank when your group of four reaches the forest's edge. Yoriichi holds out an arm when you begin to step out from behind the tree. “Wait it’s dangerous we have to look first.”

You withheld a roll of your eyes and once again questioned your sources. You allow him to do his lookout and turn to observe the other two as they watch him with rapt attention. A trio of merchants with no merchandise, always traveling to pick up their stock, records clean but no verifiable customers. Sloppy. You were positive they were informants for Akatsuki. They were a ‘family business’, wife, husband, and grandparent.

The grandfather used a cane well he did until three weeks ago when he’d discretely discarded it. Husband, Yoriichi’s dual-wielding swords appear to be double the price of their reported profits. And wife, Haga Rina. While the other two are just S-class rouges she’s an SS class rank nin from Iwa. She was your main reason for tailing this group in particular. There were rumors of Iwagakure employing Akatsuki. You watched her sharp eyes scan the terrain and after weeks of travel, it looked like the other two were unaware of her ninja status.

“Clear,” Yoriichi called. You wondered how she’d ended up with the others. “You have to be more careful.”

“S-sorry.” You turn your gaze downwards. They were part of her cover but you weren’t sure how much they knew.

“No awareness, I don’t know how you made it as far as you did alone.” Yuuta the ‘grandfather’ scolded. Keeping with the character you were playing you balled your fist, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Granddad that’s enough.” The Rina chides. She walks up to you to squeeze your shoulder in sympathy. “Don’t mind him, we’re not blaming you but like Yoriichi said be more mindful.” You raise your eyes to hers and meet her kind smile. “We have to get you to Suna in one piece, can’t keep that new niece waiting!”

“Thank you.” You mumbled following behind them as they walked closer to the rushing water. As a civilian from the land of fangs, you had no concept of the danger the rest of the world had to offer. Or at least that’s what they’d concluded when they found you stumbling through fire territory on your way to the desert to see your recently widowed sister.

“We just need to find a way across.” Rina and Yoriichi went to gauge how deep the river was. Which only served to stump you. It would’ve been much easier to trek through the northern slopes of the land of rivers by the well-travel roads near Takigakure. Where the river wouldn’t be as deep and hell it would’ve been a lot less humid, with more shade and night cover too. Your current path puts you far south of Taki, one of the smaller hidden villages, you didn’t know much about them except for their rumored hero water. That and they’ve never been invaded, would be hard considering the numerous caves that littered their terrain.

With a lax daimyo and sparse forces, you pondered the probability of the Akatsuki taking residence there. You were pulled from your thoughts by ‘granddad’ Manjiro’s loogie hitting the ground.

“Ew” Manjiro ignored you wiping his sweaty forehead as he sat on a stump to watch the shoreline. You sat as well watching the slow-moving current. You were picking threads from your damp clothes when you sensed them. A group of five headed toward your location. They were moving fast definitely ninja. Your theory was proven when they raced across the water.

“Girl, get behind me!” You allow Manjiro to pull on your arm, letting him shield you behind him. Yoriichi and Rina took up a loose manji formation in front of you. The beige clothing of the group in front of you let you know they were Suna nin before you caught the hourglass glinting off the metal plates. They easily surrounded you.

“Manjiro and Yoriichi Tsuda.” What you assumed was the leader spoke. “Tell us what you know of Sasori of the red sand.” Your gaze flickered between the two.

“We don’t know who that is!” Rina shouted, all eyes turned to her until one of the sand ninjas came up to whisper something into his leader’s ear.

“This doesn’t concern an Iwa nin.” He sneered. Yoriichi and Manjiro looked at her in surprise and your previous thoughts were confirmed. She reached down to unveil a kunai. “You're surrounded and outclassed.” Another sand nin scoffed.

“And what makes you think we know anything.” Yoriichi spat.

“Your friend here.” He pointed to ‘granddad’ “Is rumored to be meeting him at this point.”

They looked amongst themselves and you amended the information in your head. They were all involved with reporting to Akatsuki. Looks like they all knew that at least. You flinched back when one of the nin pointed towards you.

“She’s not involved. She’s a civilian we’re escorting to Suna.” Rina blocked their view of you. Her genuine concern gave you pause, you may have misjudged her. She was alright for an Iwa nin but you squash the thought of camaraderie, you're not sure if she’d be as kind if she knew you were from Konoha.

“We’ll verify that later. Now don’t make this difficult. Turn around and drop to your knees.” You saw movement in the trees. The flak jackets of the Suna nin marked them as Jonin, they hadn’t caught the figure moving. As soon as Yoriichi’s knees hit the ground the rest of you followed suit.

Your hands were pulled behind your back and you let them bind your wrists, forearms, and ankles together. Nothing you couldn’t escape from. After blindfolding you they carried you four across the water, the spray leaving your clothes sodden. You let them manhandle you for a few miles till you feel your stomach swoop. The nin tightens his hold, his arm digging into your side before he hits the ground. You groan at the landing and he sets you down, you’re leaning against the rough bark of a tree from what you can feel.

“Why’d we stop?”

“We’re being followed. Two people.” You figured they would have a sensor type. But three people were zoning in on you. One closer than the others. The sudden screaming was enough to have you shimming out of your bindings. You weren’t given the chance to shout when a palm closed over your mouth. You were back in the air, your now free hand reaching for your hidden knives. Once the familiar weight of the kuani was in your palm you swiped at your abductor.

The sudden strike caused him to drop you, he swoops down after you, grimacing behind his mask when your body collides with a thick branch. Ice fills his veins when you continue to fall after the hit. Kakashi grabs your unconscious form before you hit the ground. He puts enough distance between you and the group, reaching a new clearing and setting up wards and genjutsu traps. He rolls out a mat, removes your damp clothes, and waits for you to come to.

You’re not aware of it till a week later when you're back at the bank with a couple of sand ninjas trying to track the trio and a group of missing Suna nin. Following the trail you reach the clearing they held you in to your dismay, the area is destroyed, with clay residue sticking to the metal plate of a hidden stone headband. You pocket the forehead protector and Yoriichi’s swords that survived the blast. Kakashi and by extension, your Hokage saved your life that day by calling you back to the leaf.

The canopy trees wave down at you when you awake, a groan slipping past your lips at the dull ache in your jaw. You sense him before you see him, and when you do your body slumps over in relief.

Hound.

The porcelain mask looks as eerie as ever as he stares down at you. “You know Suna is our ally right?” He nods and you sigh. “What happened now?”

“Naruto’s coming home.” You raise a brow and he continues. “Tsunade wants you around as an extra guard.” Right, the tailed beasts are still being hunted, and regardless of Jiraiya’s prowess having more people look out for him wouldn’t hurt. And while your current mission was important you really wanted to see how big Kushina and Lord Fourth’s kid has gotten.

“Okay, looks like Suna’s gonna have to take care of them. But more importantly… Kakashi why am I still tied up?”

“So that I don’t get maimed.”

“Okay, makes sense. I do get stabby when I wake up but then why am I naked?” At that, you can almost see the sheepish expression behind the Inu mask.

“One of the world's greatest mysteries.”

“Kakashi!”

“Your clothes are wet.” He points over to the damp fabric drying on a log. You concede and start trying to shimmy out of the knots. Wait a minute. The layout of how you were tied is vastly different from before. Where the Suna nins had bound you so tight your wrists hurt, there was some give now.

“How long was I out?”

“Five minutes,” he murmured, his pale fingers running up the ropes binding your calves to your thighs. The ladder formation ends on your upper thigh on both legs, your plush skin bulging over the thick ropes. Your arms are still behind your back, your forearms together. The rope that binds them together is looped around your torso, the brown rope digs into your upper arms, around your neck, and down your collarbone. From there it splits off to frame your breasts and your face grows warm the longer you stare down at yourself.

“K-kakashi s-seriously?” the way your tied up spreads your legs open, your pussy facing the grove of trees and the last Hatake in front of you.

“What?” He asks as if you're not already beginning to drip for him. You feel his calloused fingers inch up your thigh, shuddering when they reach your sensitive inner thighs. “Want me to untie you?”

You're not sure if you want him to. You hadn’t seen him in months and frankly, thoughts of him plagued you throughout your mission. You stare into the dark holes of his mask, the red glow of his Sharingan letting you know that he’s committing the sight to memory. He doesn’t have to ask again because you shake your head no and let his cool palms splay over your thighs.

The tease runs his fingers over the sides of your cunt, thumbs just barely parting your lips before he traces his hands up your body. They skirt around your breasts and follow the dip of your throat before reaching your jaw. His fingers prod the bruising skin and hiss you squeezing your eyes shut at the pain. There’s a cool sensation against your jaw and a pale green light fills your vision when you open your eyes.

“That’s so unfair.” He huffs out a laugh through his nose and finishes healing the bruise. He places his anbu issued mask off to the side and you get to see his pretty eyes. They’re soft as he stares down at you and you can see the indent of a smile in the dark fabric of his other mask. His eyes curve up further when you purse your lips in ask for a kiss.

Your lips meet the material of his mask, his breath warm against you. The cicadas continue to chirp around you when he pulls away. His eyes rake down your form, the heat in them makes you squirm. His hands leave your face, gliding down your shoulders and over your breasts. Once they reach the base he presses them up, squeezing the soft flesh in his palms watching as you arch into his touch. His thumbs brush over your pebbled nipples and he leans down to press a kiss between the valley of your breast.

You sigh pleasantly when he lets one of his hands slide down the curve of your stomach down to your pulsing heat. He looks up at you from his lashes when his fingers reach the wetness between your thighs. He doesn’t have to dip his fingers near your entrance to wet them as they just slide against your sticky folds.

“Missed me that much? Or does doing it outside turn you on?” You gape at him, eyebrows raised to your hairline at his words.

“Y-You!” You cut off at the single word, your head tilting back as his fingers press down on your clit.

“Me?” You can hear the grin in his voice and you know he’s only acting like this because of that naughty missive you sent him four weeks ago. Wicked fingers part your slick folds and you gasp into his mouth when he sinks a thick finger into you.

“Mmm” god you missed him. His lips leave you and you blink your eyes open to see him slide down his mask with his unoccupied hand. He feeds your hungry cunt another finger before his lips are back on yours. He kisses you hotly, plush lips insistent and wet against your own as he thrusts his fingers into you.

“Ah!” He leaves your mouth wanting as he spreads his fingers, sissoring your constricting walls apart. His silver locks tickle your stomach as he kisses down your torso. Dark grey and red stare up at you from between your legs and you ache to run your fingers through his spiky hair. Instead, you bite your lip and try pushing up into him when he kisses your mound. You whine when he removes his fingers. “Kashi please~”

“Be patient.” His hot tongue runs down your slit and had your legs been free they’d have snared his head in their grasp. He laps your cunt leisurely, sight trained on your pinched brows and bitten lips. His fingers slide back into your hot cunt, your silky walls swallowing his fingers with ease, desperate to have him deeper. You buck up into him when his tongue circles the hood of your clit, he follows the action with firm strokes of his tongue.

You cry out his name when he pulls his mouth away to blow on your sensitive bean. He thinks you look cute like this, your bottom lip quivering as he hovers over your pussy. His fingers that know thousands of jutsus search your smooth walls for “F-fuck! There!”

His fingers squelch against your cunt with each drag. And his pale pink lips are soaked with your juices. And that devilish little beauty mark on the left corner of his mouth glistens in the evening sunlight. You’re gone when his pretty lips wrap around your clit once more, his cheeks hollowing as he slurps and sucks on your clit. Your toes curl and your back arches up into him when your cum had your hands have been free they would’ve been deep in his hair pushing him deeper between your sloppy pussy.

He lets you breathe, allowing you to come down from your first orgasm in weeks. His fingers leave your still-pulsing walls and his hands run up your sides. He watches as your breathing slows and waits for you to get back to him. He’d always wait for you and he’d always come to retrieve you when need be. He was well aware of the irony in his namesake- Hound. When you came to he gave you, your favorite fanged tooth smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey back, ...I missed you ‘Kashi.”

Kakashi wasn’t going to tell you he missed you. He rarely did, sparse whispered moments, with his lips between your shoulder blades. He didn’t have to though because he always shows you whether it’s with the graze of his fingers on your skin or the absolute adoration in his heterochromatic eyes. You laugh to yourself thinking of just how much emotion he can put forth with one visible eye.

“?”

“Nothing.” you smile. He shakes his head at you and then he’s doing it again, his dark grey eyes melt for you. And, he’s looking at you like you painted the sky and hung the stars. He stares at you like your home. He plants another kiss on your lips, the taste of you on his lips. The next is at the tip of your nose, your eyes cross when he kisses between your brows, and his chuckle ghosts down your face. The soft pressure of his lips against your forehead warms your cheeks.

“...Let’s go home.”

Kinktober2024|Masterlist

#“Untie me first.” <- was gonna add this to the end but I wanted to keep it cute #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi hatake smut #anbu kakashi #kakashi x you #kakashi hatake x you

43 notes · View notes

auroravictorium · 2 years ago

Text

karma (k.b.)

trick me once, trick me twice. don't you know that cash ain't the only price?

Summary: kaz gets his first piece of information about reader's whereabouts, and pekka gets his revenge; inej makes a pivotal discovery, and kaz vows to kill pekka rollins. Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship) Word Count: 3.8k Warnings: moderate violence [choking, breaking bones, punching, kicking], mentions of blood, mentions of killing (in the context of a threat), violent!kaz (but not as violent as he could be, y'know)

Genre: angst + action

Author's Note: another beast of a part for you guys!! i hope you all enjoy, and thank you to everyone for your kind words!! you're all so sweet i'm sobbing - promise we're gonna get a reunion between kaz and reader soooooooon! then some fluff hehe.

grishaverse masterlist

"I asked around," Nina said quietly, just for Kaz to hear as they stood behind a crumbling chimney atop a bank in the Financial District. It wasn't far from where Y/N was taken, and with this view, Nina couldn't blame Jesper and Inej for losing sight of the mercenaries. In the tangle of Ketterdam streets, it was too easy for them to get away. "Only three mercenary groups based in Kerch use ether."

"Which groups?" Kaz said, peering around the chimney and glancing at his pocket watch. Pekka Rollins's closest financier should be coming up for his hourly smoke anytime now, and Kaz was growing impatient. Not that he had much patience in the past three days, most of it shot by worry and an inability to stop wondering if you were still alive. He knew Pekka Rollins; he wouldn't choose a mercenary group that wasted time.

"-And the-Are you even listening to me?" Nina said, cutting herself off and looking at him with a raised brow. Her unimpressed look softened when she saw his pursed lips: his only tell that he was somewhere else, probably thinking about Y/N. "Kaz. We're going to find her."

Kaz turned and masked his concern with a scowl. "Of course we will. That's why we're here," he said sharply. She's in this mess because of me. The thought had plagued him since Inej and Jesper told him you were gone; finding you was the only way he could fix this. He wouldn't accept any alternative. "Which group uses ether the most?"

"They call themselves the Dykhaniye." Nina closed her eyes and felt for nearby heartbeats; none, except for Kaz's. "Wylan said ether is highly flammable. As far as anyone has heard, they're the only ones able to use it successfully without any significant losses on their end. Others have tried, but..." She shook her head to clear her thoughts. She didn't want to think about what ether was doing to Y/N. Difficulty breathing, fatigue, vomiting... Nina knew Y/N was strong but didn't know how long she could survive being repeatedly poisoned.

"We need to find where they're based. That's where they'll have taken her." Kaz clutched onto his cane and fought to keep his breathing steady. Nina's wording was deliberate. No significant losses on their end. If they found Y/N, what state would she be in? Would they kill her, or would exposure to the ether do it? "I'll send word to Inej."

"She's already investigating leads." Nina held up a hand, silencing Kaz as he opened his mouth to question how, exactly, Inej could already be investigating leads if Kaz had just heard this information. Nina tilted her head toward the door and mouthed, Later.

Fine. Kaz would question why he didn't hear about this first once he was done beating the shit out of the financier. Get the information, ask Inej what she knows, and find Y/N. He snapped his mouth shut and angled his head, listening as the door to the roof creaked open. The metal hinges squeaked terribly, grating Kaz's ears and making Nina cringe.

The door creaked shut, and Kaz heard footsteps approaching the edge of the roof. Nina raised her hands, already feeling for the man's breathing. It came to her as naturally as wind to sails, and she started to curl her fingers.

Kaz held up a finger. Wait. He glanced around the side of the chimney and watched the man next to the decorative metal fencing along the roof's edge. It was rusted, and pieces flaked off as the man lit his first cigarette, inhaled deeply, then tapped the ashes off using the fence.

He puffed away, looking over the city, and Kaz lowered his finger.

As the man inhaled, Nina clenched her fist.

The financier choked on the smoke and dropped the cigarette from his mouth. His hands went to his throat, and he stumbled back from the metal fence. He hacked and coughed, tipping forward until he sank to his knees. As his lips turned blue, he swung his head wildly from side to side to look around for anyone who could help.

Instead, he found Kaz, who had no intentions of helping the man get back to his smoke break. Vengeance burned in those icy blue eyes, and the man gaped in fear like a fish pulled from the sea.

Kaz brought his cane down on the man's skull. The man's mouth moved like he wanted to cry out, and he slumped to the side onto the rough surface of the roof. Blood seeped down the man's temple, and a sick satisfaction ran through Kaz, fueling his wrath and setting him ablaze from the inside out. He hauled the financier back to his knees with a gloved hand on the man's collar, then started dragging him toward the teetering metal fence.

The man writhed underneath his grip, his hands going to Kaz's wrist and pulling, trying to pry his fingers away. But Kaz's grip was as unbreakable as his determination to bring Ketterdam to its knees until he found Y/N, and he had no problem destroying this man and this city if it meant making sure you were safe.

Kaz positioned the man so he hung partially over the fence, his face turned to the streets below. Nina released her grip on the man's lungs enough for him to breathe some air but not enough to scream or make much noise. The man went slack once he could gasp, but Kaz wasn't foolish enough to release him.

"I'm only going to ask this nicely once," Kaz hissed, leaning in so his voice was a terrible, dangerous whisper in the financier's ear. His eyes glinted in the setting sun, the icy blue color turning a sinister shade of orange as his irises caught the sun's fading rays. "Pekka Rollins paid off mercenaries recently. How much did it cost?"

Nina stayed behind the chimney, giving Kaz the space to work, but she peeked at the man as he gasped for air. His heart raced against his ribcage fast enough to make her want to wince, and his lungs strained with the effort to keep up with his panic. Saints, Kaz was trying to send this man into heart failure before getting any answers.

"I can't-" the man wheezed through blue lips, "tell you." His face throbbed as gravity forced his blood to his head, and his breathing trembled.

Kaz pushed the financier further over the barrier, which creaked dangerously under the man's weight. "You can, and you will," Kaz said. He jerked his chin toward the street below, filled with passersby on their way home for the evening or to the East Stave for some debauchery to relieve the workday's stress. "Or I just might lose my grip."

"He'll kill me," the man whimpered. He coughed, and his mouth tasted like copper. "He said he'd kill me."

"I think you're worried about the wrong person." Kaz kicked the metal fence, and the segment beneath the man buckled. The financier cried out as he hung over the alleyway, supported only by Kaz's grip on his collar. He finally seemed to realize that Kaz intended to let him hurtle off the roof headfirst if he didn't get answers, and he sobbed a quiet plea for help. Nobody looked up, the sound muffled by a twitch of Nina's fingers.

"How. Much," Kaz pressed. His arm was beginning to strain from holding the man up, and his leg was none too pleased with the exertion required to keep his weight steady on the roof's edge.

"Two million kruge," the man sobbed. "Mercenaries wouldn't accept anything less."

Kaz tilted his head. "Is he telling the truth?" he said too calmly, the question intended for Nina. He could feel her eyes on him, on his complete indifference to the man's desperation to survive. But this paled in comparison to what Kaz wanted to do in revenge for your kidnapping.

Nina winced, though Kaz's tone was outwardly neutral. She peered at his face. His expression bordered on bloodthirsty, and Nina swallowed. "Yes," she said softly.

Sometimes it was easy to forget how Kaz got his reputation, especially when Nina saw him around Y/N. He was always kind with her, as tender or gentle as a man with such sharp edges could be, and he never responded to her with anything other than a racing heart or caught breaths.

Kaz loved Y/N, whether he admitted it to himself or not, and Nina's ability to hear the signs made her forget that he could be like this. And he would if it meant keeping his Crows secure, his business intact, Y/N alive and safe.

Kaz surveyed the man's face, the tears in his eyes, and his moving lips as he murmured prayers to his saints. He considered Nina's confirmation of the financier's truthfulness, yet how easy it could be to throw this man off the roof and be done with it. It would be merciful compared to what Kaz wished he could do to this man for his role in your kidnapping, enabling Pekka Rollins to hire the mercenaries.

Chances are, the financier didn't even know your name. It wasn't in his purview.

Kaz clenched his jaw. This man's death could send a message and make it clear that Kaz would only do worse until he got the information he wanted. He could cause terror, drive the Dime Lions out of hiding and force someone to yield information. It was what Pekka Rollins would do if Kaz had inflicted the magnitude of pain that Rollins had.

His brother. His childhood. His Crows. His love.

He jerked the financier upright once more, and the man let out a sob that Kaz cut off as he shoved the man away from the roof's edge. The man rolled a few feet away and stopped at the bottom of the chimney, crying and mumbling prayers into his palms.

Kaz crossed over to him in two long strides and brought the blunt end of his cane down on the man's ribcage hard enough to fracture bone. Nina winced when she heard the crunch, pressing herself into the side of the chimney; the cold seeped from the bricks into her back, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Which group of mercenaries did Rollins need the money for?" Kaz growled. He moved the tip of his cane to an unbroken rib and leaned just enough weight on it that the man choked on another cry.

"The Dykhaniye," the man wailed. He'd given up on trying to conceal information from Kaz Brekker, who knew exactly what buttons to push to get what he wanted. "I don't know what he wanted with them." He turned his head to the side and spat to clear his airway, creating a mess of blood and tears down the side of his face and on the ground.

Kaz lifted his cane, and the man immediately tried to wriggle away from him as if he could get far enough to be out of reach of the crow-headed cane. "That wasn't so difficult, was it?" Kaz said. He tossed a wad of kruge at the man's battered chest, and the bills scattered across the rooftop on a light breeze. "For your trouble."

It was mocking, but he could have done much worse. If the financier had any sense left, he would take the money and get the hell out of the city before Pekka Rollins caught wind of his men breaking under threat from Kaz Brekker.

He turned and caught Nina's gaze. Giving her a curt nod of thanks, he spun on his heel and went for the door leading off the roof. She rushed to follow, sparing a short glance at the sobbing man next to the chimney. "You were right," he said quietly. It was the closest he would get to approving of her telling Inej of her suspicions before him. "Now, we wait to hear what Inej knows."

Your head snapped sharply to the side as Pekka Rollins cracked his knuckles across your cheek. Pain blossomed across your jaw, throbbing hard enough to rattle your teeth, and you bit your tongue to silence your cry. Every breath you took stung your lungs, and your chest struggled to rise and fall against the pressure of your broken ribs.

You fought to stay upright, forced to shift your knees against the hard ground without using your hands to balance. Your right knee scraped harshly against the stone floor, and the pain was worse than anything Rollins had done to you. It shot up and down your leg like a strong electric shock straight to your nerves, and it took everything you had to not let a sob of agony cross your lips.

Breathe. Let the pain out through your lungs. You forced a trembling breath in and out, trying to imagine the pain in your body turning to mist. You thought of the low clouds that lingered in Ketterdam during the summer, how they occasionally brought cool breezes along to soothe the sweating inhabitants of the city.

It had been days since you'd seen the sky, and thinking of Ketterdam's consistently gray skies brought you a unique mix of pain and comfort. What you would give to be under the clouds with the breeze on your skin.

If you got out of here alive, you would never again take the sight of the sky for granted.

When. When I get out of here.

"I'll ask you again," Rollins said, pacing before you like a predator cornering its prey. His hair drooped in his face, and the front of his clothes was stained dark with broth. There was a slice across his cheekbone from a shard of porcelain, and blood was smudged across his knuckles and fingertips. Yours and his. He looked nothing more than the scum he was, with any semblance of composure or pride wiped from his face as you refused to break under his fists. "Why did Brekker want those documents?"

You spat at his feet. Blood splattered the hem of his trousers and his polished shoes, but the wicked satisfaction wasn't worth a slap jerking your head to the other side. This time, a soft groan of pain slipped out. Your cheek throbbed, and you swiped your tongue across your dry lips as you panted. In. Out. Keep breathing.

You could do this. You could keep fighting long enough to make a plan. The mercenaries had long since left the two of you alone; all you had to do was get past Pekka, swipe the knife from his belt, and saw away at the rope binding your wrists. If they hadn't dragged you up a flight of chipped stone stairs and away from your cell, you would consider using a shard from the bowl you'd shattered; if you made it back down, you would be sure to pocket one. Use what you have.

Pekka leaned down and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "You're making this harder than it needs to be, lass," he snarled. "Perhaps I should have passed you over to the Stadwatch. You've killed a fair share of my men, and murder can be a serious charge if I want it to be."

"Then do it," you spat. Blood dripped down your lip, and you considered spitting it in his face. You didn't bother licking it away, unwilling to let him see how much the metallic taste in your mouth bothered you. "Why waste your time?"

"Because you're valuable to Brekker, stupid girl." Rollins laughed, a grating, taunting sound that sent a shiver down your spine. You flexed your fingers, wishing you could wrap them around his throat and strangle the sound out of his lungs. All of this is because Kaz poses a threat to his business.

But there had to be more. There had to be something Kaz hadn't told you.

No. Save the doubt for later.

Pekka kicked you in the ribs, knocking you back into the wall. Fiery pain rushed to your chest, and whatever air you'd gathered slipped past your lips in a soft wheeze. Your back ached from its collision with the stone wall. Everything hurt, and you weren't sure you could stand.

A bloody cough slipped past your lips, and tears welled up in your swollen eyes. You wished you could wipe them away, avoid showing Pekka Rollins how weak you were feeling. But you were powerless to stop them, and you had no choice but to lean your head back against the stones and squeeze your eyes shut. Stop crying. Breathe.

Breathing could only get you so far.

Pekka turned and slammed his fist against the heavy oak door keeping you inside this room with him. Inside this damn warehouse, from what you'd gathered on your straggling, painful walk up from your cell. You wished you had the strength to attack Pekka while his back was turned, but you could only bring yourself to open your eyes as the door opened and two of the mercenaries entered.

Sergei and Fjerdan Asshole. Just the people you wanted to see.

You glowered at them as they jerked you to your feet, and Sergei only gave you an unpleasant smirk. Another cough bubbled up in your chest as the mercenaries hauled you toward the door, filling your mouth with blood. You glared at Pekka Rollins as you passed him, and he looked back at you smugly.

"I can't wait until Brekker sees what I've done to you," he drawled, following you to the office door. "His rage will make it even more satisfying when I kill him."

When I kill him.

Something hot and red and destructive washed over you. Every ounce of pain in your body seemed to temporarily numb, yielding to the pure wrath burning beneath your skin. You would bear as much pain as Pekka Rollins gave you, the bruises and cuts and broken bones. But you would make sure there was nothing left of him, the Dime Lions, or Ketterdam if he went after Kaz; losing Kaz was a pain you refused to bear.

You looked over your shoulder at Rollins, piercing him with a simmering glare that would have made anyone else shrink back. "You have a spot of blood on your tie," you snarled. Then, you spat your mouthful of blood in his face.

Rollins reeled back with a roar of outrage, wiping away the blood but only succeeding in smearing it through his beard. A murderous look filled his eyes, but he didn't have enough time to act on it before the mercenaries shoved you out of the office and toward the dark stairs leading to the warehouse basement.

Inej darted up the stairs to Kaz's office, panting and shoving past meandering Dregs coming out of their room for an early breakfast. She swung around the corner and pushed open Kaz's door, nearly hitting Jesper. He jumped out of the way and surveyed her disheveled state, opening his mouth to, presumably, ask what happened.

She dropped a stack of papers on Kaz's desk and leaned against the chair across from his to catch her breath. "Straight from the office of Pekka Rollins," she gasped, holding her side. "The Dykhaniye are based in Zierfoort. They own every warehouse complex in the city as a front for their operations. That's where they took her."

Kaz immediately shoved his map to the side and started flipping through the papers, glancing up at Inej. "How? I told you not to risk it." He jerked a transaction list free from the stack, and his icy eyes scanned it for any precise information. Which warehouse, which side of the city, anything that might expedite their search for Y/N. "Jesper, the carriage. Now."

"On it, Boss." Jesper gently squeezed Inej's shoulder on his way out. She squeezed his wrist in thanks. "Good job," he whispered. He left the office, and his thundering footsteps rattled the floorboards as he moved down the stairs.

"Wylan staged a distraction. The grunts around the perimeter of the Emerald Palace had to go investigate an explosion on one of their ships in Fourth Harbor." Inej straightened up and searched Kaz's face. "I shouldn't have gone without letting you know, but she's my friend, Kaz. I can't sit idly knowing I could have done something to stop this."

"There was nothing you could have done," Kaz said quietly. He stood and rolled the papers up, stuffing them in the inner pocket of his coat. He met Inej's gaze, and she was relieved to find no anger there. None directed at her, anyway. "Pekka had this plotted out for months. They found servant stairwells that we thought were blocked off, and he hired the best mercenaries that kruge could buy."

Kaz didn't blame Inej or Jesper. He blamed himself entirely. I was the one who put her at risk. I let her become my weakness, and she's paying the price. He grabbed his cane and a pistol from some hidden spot beneath his desk and spun the latter in his fingers.

Inej examined Kaz's face, searching for any hint of a contradiction to his words. When she found none, her shoulders loosened. "I'll get Nina and Matthias. Wylan is already downstairs."

"Matthias and Wylan stay. They'll watch over the Club and the Slat until we return." Kaz grabbed his hat, stared at it for a moment, then put it back down. You were the last to wear it when you used it as a disguise to get him breakfast on his birthday. It reminded him too strongly of you, of his failure to say what he longed to say before the bank job.

You expressed your love for him so often and so carefully that he wondered why you woke up every day and still chose him, when he could barely tell you that he cared without choking on his past. Would you still choose him when all of this was said and done? Would you realize that he was at fault for this, that he was nothing more than a shell of a man, too haunted, too broken, too bruised, who brought pain to anyone who dared to get close?

Kaz blinked back to the present, pulling himself from the color of your eyes, the memories of his fingers clasping your favorite necklace around your neck. "Let's go," he said quietly, ignoring Inej's concerned look. She'd probably said his name a few times. He didn't care. "It's a day's trip to Zierfoort."

And he stalked out of the office, leaning heavily on his cane and pondering how it would feel to finally kill Pekka Rollins.

TAGLIST: @tonberry-yoda, @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r, @futurecorps3, @statsvitenskap, @sapphiccloud, @casualladyinternet, @d34drapunzel, @noctemys, @whitejxsmine, @so6, @franzelt, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @marlene-the-witch, @thestudiouswanderer, @lyjen, @rideacowb0y, @weasleybuns, @dal-light, @mariatpwk, @dreammgc, @elysian-chaos, @breadbrobin,@poppyflower-22, @halfofagayallofaqueer, @battleraven, @amarokofficial, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @poppyflower-22, @madnessinwrighting, @ponyboys-sunsets, @circus-of-thoughts, @empresspenguin, @mediocrestuff, @stonksman8, @alanis-altair, @thefandomplace, @alohastitch0626, @the-royal-paintbrush, @just-here-for-ff, @whos6claire, @jodiereedus22, @be-lla-vie, @despoinapav05, @arianyo, @willowpains, @geekmom3

808 notes · View notes

inhurtandincomfort · 1 month ago

Text

CW: Minor whump (again, it's backstory) Child trafficking, sold into slavery, forced nonsexual nudity, mentions of alcoholism, drug use and self harm at the end along with mild references to disassociation and possible suicidal ideation if you read into how depressed he is.

Eldwin’s body does not belong to him.

That may not make sense to some people. “Ridiculous,” they say, “Whose else could it be?” But it was something made all too clear to Eldwin, as young as fourteen years old, from the moment the pact mark first appeared on his skin.

The moment his hand met the strangers, a sharp pain ran across the back of it and when he looked the mark was there, burned red already fading to black. This was the price he must pay, he knew. That didn’t mean he couldn’t feel the beginnings of regret nagging at the back of his mind as he stared at the intricate sigil, a permanent marker of what he was. Whose he was. When he looked up at the stranger, a handsome man flashing teeth that seemed a little too white, slightly too sharp, looking very pleased with an unnerving glint in his eyes, Eldwin wondered not for the last time whether he’d made the right choice.

It didn’t matter. What’s done is done; a contract was made, his fate is sealed. The demon walked away with a soul and a promise. Eldwin walked away with a fear and a life that would never be the same.

Then he was kidnapped, starving, cold, and desperate in the middle of December lured in by a wealthy-looking couple with a promise of work and instead taken captive, thrown in a basement somewhere in the city with a handful of other boys most his age or older, a couple of them younger.

“They’re gonna sell us,” One of them said, glumly resigned to his fate. He’d been there the longest and claimed to have heard them discussing their plans. “We’ll be sold off for labour and there’s nothin’ we can do about it.” Eldwin scowled, crossing his arms. Maybe there was nothing they could do, but that didn’t mean they shouldn’t try. He voiced as much,when the auction day drew closer.

“You’re being stupid.” The first boy told him bluntly. “You think none of us ‘ave tried before?” But some of the newer faces still had some spirit and agreed to attempt an escape. They waited until late in the night. Eldwin quietly approached the basement door, lifting a gloved hand to the lock. It opened easily with a soft click letting the boys sneak out one by one, Eldwin in the lead. They managed to boost one of the boys over the fence before they were caught, a gun in their faces and several men roughly dragging them back where they were thrown forcefully into the basement where the ones who stayed jumped back in fear as the slaver appeared holding his walking cane.

“Who’s idea was this?” He barked, “Own up before I break everyone’s limbs!” The youngest squeaked and stuffed his filthy sleeve into his mouth. Most were crying or quivering with fear and Eldwin couldn’t help but wonder who would speak first? Well, he wouldn’t wait to find out. He wouldn't put that burden on them.

“It was me,” He said more confidently than he felt. “It was my idea. They didn’t want to, but I convinced them.” He held his head high, meeting the man's eyes even as he clenched his fist to stop it from trembling. He only hoped the boy who’d escaped would make it, that he’d tell the guards and put a stop to this before auction day.

“You little brat,” The man snarled, raising his hand. Eldwin was sent stumbling back, a stinging pain where the man backhanded him across the face. “Hold him,” The man ordered two of the stronger boys and they wordlessly stood either side of Eldwin, shoving him to his knees. Eldwin closed his eyes, bracing himself for what was to come. The wooden cane slammed into his back with such force he would have fallen over had the boys not been holding him in place. He couldn’t hold back a cry slipping past his lips as his vision blurred from tears as the cane hit its mark, over and over again. The youngest boy amongst them was shielding his face in the shirt of another trying to stifle his own cries. “How did you do it? How did you get out!?” The man dropped his cane to the floor and grabbed Eldwin by the collar, hauling him up nearly off the ground. Eldwin looked to the floor, biting the inside of his cheek. He wouldn't answer. No matter how much it hurt, what they did to him, he could not answer.

“He magicked it sir!” The boy who’d been here longest piped up, conviction in his tone. “We all saw ‘im. He didn't even touch it, the door unlocked just like that!"

A new fear flooded Eldwin's chest as the man slowly turned to look from the boy to Eldwin, a strange look coming across his face. “Is that right?” He dropped him to the floor, beckoning for a boy to pass him his cane. “You been holding out on us lad?”

Eldwin glared up at the man, not saying a word. He already had his answer. No one was going to lie for him; If they were asked if he did magic, each and every one of them would say yes.

“Show us,” The man commanded. When he didn’t comply the man slammed his cane hard to the floor with a loud bang that made them all flinch. “Show us!”

There was no point putting it off further. Shakily Eldwin cupped his hands in front of him and after a second a little ball of light appeared. It wasn’t the brightest and it flickered like a dying flame, dimming and brightening every few seconds. But it was all the proof the man needed.

“Well well well.” He looked up from the orb and a smile crept onto his face making Eldwin’s stomach churn, “Things are about to get much more interesting.”

The next few days blurred into one. Eldwin’s anxiety rose to new heights with their discovery hanging over his head like a weight ready to drop. None of the captors had said anything about it and he almost wished they would, he couldn’t take this constant trepidation. None of his fellow captives said anything either. They all stayed huddled at the wall with their heads hung low. No one would meet his eyes. They couldn’t even bear to look at him anymore. It was almost a relief when the big day came. That morning they were all brought upstairs, divided amongst the several bathrooms, stripped and forced in a bathtub where they were doused with cold water by one of the underlings. When they took his gloves from him this man -who looked to be only eighteen, nineteen- saw the sigil and disappeared from the room, coming back with The Mistress in tow. Her nails dug into his wrist as she yanked it harshly, staring at the pact mark with disdain. “Do you have any more secrets you’d like to share with us?” She asked flatly.

Eldwin kept his gaze firmly on the bathroom tiles, his face radiating heat despite his shivering as he tried to cover himself as best he could. She sighed, dropping his arm. “Proceed. I’ll talk to the client before the deal goes through.”

They were given clean clothes. Eldwin noticed his were different from the others - whereas they were given plain cloths barely more than rags, he had on a proper button-up white shirt and dark grey trousers, and black shoes which the others weren’t afforded the luxury of. Some of them had their hair cut unevenly where mats were cut off, others had their heads shorn entirely. Usually he’d appreciate being treated better, but now it made him all the more nervous. Maybe they just wanted to cover the bruises? His back still hurt whenever it stretched. That didn't explain the quality, though.

Then they were brought to another room with a chair by a fire and a couple of metal instruments nearby. Stood by the chair was a feminine figure, her face hidden by a mask. Another woman stood by a table in the corner with what seemed to be medical supplies. They all watched in horror as the first boy was held down in the chair, his head tilted as an iron rod was placed on the side of his neck. The boy yelled and squirmed, strong hands holding him still. It was over within a second, and he was shuffled along to a treatment table, quietly sobbing.

“I feel sick,” One boy said as they all stood lined up in the hallway waiting to be brought on stage, bandage wrapped around his neck, their hands tied in front of them with rope that was left long so they could be led around by it. They could hear the host welcoming the guests. Some boys muttered prayers to themselves, others seemed to be trying to forget they were there at all.

The Mistress entered the room, beckoning Eldwin to follow. “You, boy. With me.” She clicked her fingers, and one of her henchmen grabbed the rope attached to him and tugged him along, bringing him away from the auction to another room. She stopped them outside the door, smoothing his hair back and fixing him with a hard look. “This is a good opportunity for you. Don’t blow it.” Then she opened the door, and he was led inside.

A wealthy-looking man stood in front of the fireplace, turning to face them when the door opened. He was tall, towering over Eldwin when he came to greet them, brown hair neatly combed back and an expensive looking suit. The man grabbed his chin and tilted his head to the side, looking at him from various angles. “He doesn’t look like much. You’re sure he’s the one?” “Yes, sir. The boys all claim to have seen it and my husband can testify.” She gave Eldwin a nudge. “Go on boy, prove it.” “Prove what?” He meant it but must have sounded snarkier than intended because a palm connected with his cheek making his eyes water, her long nails leaving scratch marks.

“Don’t play dumb with me!” She snapped, rings glittering on her still raised fingers. Eldwin scowled, blinking to clear the tears.

“I don’t know what you want from me! No one told me anything! Why was I separated from the others? Why are we here in the first place, I don’t even know how long it’s been!”

Her face twisted with rage. “Why you little-” She looked like she was going to hit him again but the man raised his hand. “You’re a sorcerer, are you not? That’s what we want from you dear. Your magic.” He smiled, the sort of smile one would give to reassure a lost child. He reached up to cup Eldwin’s face, his thumb wiping away the blood left by the Mistress. “Can you do a little for me? Just to prove you can.”

Do these people understand how hard magic is when you’re overstressed, underfed and under-slept? Fine. He’d do a little magic.

He held out one hand palm up, feeling a gentle warmth run through him as all his aether concentrated. Sparks flew from his palm and the man watched in fascination before the sparks turned into flames, springing to life as if someone had thrown oil on to it, albeit on a very small scale. But it was enough to catch the man's sleeve aflame, making him leap back with a yelp, frantically patting himself down. The royal blue fabric was left charred black with a sizable hole. The Mistress offered profuse apologies, offering to cover the damages as Eldwin watched in veiled amusement, careful not to let it show on his face. He would pay for that no doubt, both in their punishment and with the exhaustion that came with using too much energy.

The momentary satisfaction was worth it.

The man dusted himself off, no longer smiling. He didn’t seem to be upset, though; deep blue eyes bore through him as he studied him intently. If anything, he looked pleased. “I’ll take him.”

Thus went his body, stolen by a crime lord who broke it down piece by piece, tore it apart only to build it back up, beat it, burned it, ripped it limb from limb just so he could put it back together leaving not even a scar, getting to live his life like it never happened. Eldwin didn’t have that luxury. Not everything left a visible mark, he couldn’t prove it, no one would ever believe him - but he knew. The Mind remembers what the Body forgets.

But his mind was a traitor.

It was hard to cope, trapped in a life he never asked for, made to do things he never wanted. He was violated, he was used and he was alone with only his own Mind to talk to. Oh, he hated the things his Mind says.

His hand shakes as he brings the bottle to his lips, whisky burning his throat in a way he’d grown to crave. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. The drink, the pills, the searing of cigarettes on skin - they’re only temporary, blocking out the pain, making him human for but a moment. Then come the whispers, the mocking laughter - Failure. Monster. Not even human. Other times it goes blank, leaving him numb and empty until he does something dangerous or cruel for that rush, a chance to feel.. His mind is an enemy that exists within him, controlling his every thought, every move. It was a foe he could not defeat, so it was all he could do to let something else take the reins, just for a little while.

He'd never be himself again. He was already corrupted, tainted, every aspect of him owned by another. Mind, body, and soul.

I hope you enjoyed! If you did please consider reblogging, it really helps the reach of the post for others to find and enjoy it :)

#he's having a great time #whump #minor whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump fic #trafficking whump #branding #beating #cw self destruction #tw self harm #writeblr #oc #original fic #my ocs #eldwin

21 notes · View notes

averillaratargaryen · 2 months ago

Text

“A Better Man.”

Chapter IV

The room was dark, only the faint glow of the moon filtering through the curtains, casting long, eerie shadows across the walls.

Averillara jolted awake, her heart pounding, the remnants of a nightmare clinging to her like a suffocating fog.

Her breath came in shallow gasps as she tried to shake off the vivid images of the dream—chaotic flashes of something chasing her, its twisted face inches from hers.

As she sat up, straining to steady herself, a soft, unfamiliar noise. Murmuring coming from the foot of her bed.

The figure that was sat there caused her to shriek, as she curled her legs back to her, hiding her feet under the blanket.

“Who-? Who are you?” She stuttered from shock, when she found a strange man sat beside where her feet once were.

“I do not share information without a price” He whispered, eerly.

Averillara looked at him, distraught and confused.

“Get out!” She shouted, pointing to the door.

Yet he not budge nor move away from her. He sat there, confidently, with a smug smile on his face.

“It is important to care.. for one’s needs” his hand grasped her ankle, as they slid under her blanket.

Causing her to slap him harshly against his cheek.

Pulling her foot away, Averillara had stood up, from the opposite side to where this man was stood, ready to leave her bed chamber, as it seemed.

“Do not leave” He spoke, in a whisper that caused Averillara to shiver, “I pose no threat to you.”

“Pose no threat?” Averillara looked at him in disgust, as she scoffed, watching him force himself up as he held onto his cane.

“You have come into my bedchamber throughout the middle of the night, and to touch me inappropriately-!” She stopped herself from raising her voice.

Having no idea who he was. Not remembering him, or his name, or what he stood for.

“You must trust me. I mean you no harm” he spoke softly.

Her aura entirely, Averillara found creepy.

She made her way to her bed chamber door, grabbing a hold of the knob before finding his hand squeeze ontop of her.

Averillara looked towards him, seeing how his eyes immediately drew down to her bare feet.

She took a step back, her feet then hiding beneath her gown, watching his eyes then linger back up to her face.

“You are sick” she whispered, looking at him in disgust, realising his intentions being entirely impure.

As if she was no child, compared to him.

Averillara’s eyes soften, as worry takes over her, when he looks down at his their hands, his fingers slowly uncurled off her, as her trembling hand became released.

Her eyes searching his entire self, wondering what it is he wanted from her, or why he acted so strangely.

Yet her softness was quick to dismay, when she found her throat caught in the grip of his hand.

She gasped, already feeling a tightness to her throat, as he held onto it tightly.

His anger releasing into his grip.

“I am the Queen’s trusted servant. And you dare call me sick?” He looked at her with a smirk, “your father is right. You are your mother’s daughter indeed.”

He lifts her head up, his hand moving slightly up, yet still holding onto her throat.

Averillara hit his arm, trying her best to push him away, but with no strength in her upper body, at this moment, failed to do so.

Watching him chuckle.

Her eyebrows furrowed, as she felt herself almost pass out, herself becoming paler by the minute, as he continued to take out every bit of air she had left.

Until her eyes searched and realised, he had only his cane to hold onto.

His weakness, is what she found.

With a quick thought in mind, Averillara lifted her foot, as she kicked his cane down, watching him fall along with it, his hand slowly slipping of from her neck, his grip loosening.

Averillara coughs repeatedly, patting her chest calmly, as she tries to find a breath to catch.

It was heaved, and she felt dizzy, as she looked around.

And then looked down, to see him look up at her.

Still smug.

Averillara had no choice, as she swung the door open, and forced herself out.

She pushed herself forward, opposite her as she rested her body against the wall, breathing heavily, and impatiently.

Watching her bed chamber door creek open, as he helps himself out.

Averillara began to walk off, in fastened steps, almost tripping as she walked side to side, having no grip or awareness to her surroundings.

“M-mother” she called out, a tear dripping from one eye as she felt herself wishing to collapse at any moment.

As she turned her head, she noticed him continuing to follow her, from down the steps, across to the other side, and back up.

It was never ending, as Averillara walked from room to room, wishing to find her mother, Rhaenyra, at this moment.

Yet her mind was so unfocused, she had not realised where she was.

Until she felt herself hit someone, her body against there’s.

Looking back, breathing heavily, she notices that he was continuing to follow her.

Averillara looked back to who was in front of her, and there her eyes met, with his dark ones.

“Aegon” she whispered desperately.

“What are you doing out here, late at night?” Aegon whispered back, before smirking, “looking for me?”

“Help me” she sobbed, her eyes fluttering before she found her head rested against his chest.

His smirk faded, as he tilted his head down at her, “Averillara?”

Yet she did not respond.

He pulls her back, yet her body had no grip. As though she were jelly-like.

“I-? Averillara?” He calls out again, now becoming concerned when she did not respond.

Her eyes closing slowly.

Aegon held her face, before lifting her up by her chin, noticing redness stained against her neck.

As he looks up, he finds the culprit, who stood frozen, as he looked back at him.

“Larys?” Aegon spoke.

“I can explain” Larys spoke out.

He looked back down, in much horror, when his next thought was to act.

“Get me a maester” Aegon then lifted her up, now having her body laying on her arms.

“What?” Larys looks at him confused, wondering why he did not have anything else to say.

What was his need to be so calm of this.

“Get me a maester. Now!” Aegon ordered.

Larys nods, turning around as he walks away.

Aegon looks down, seeing Averillara’s head dropped back, in his arms.

Her passing out, came with a very clear reason.

There was not going to be a peaceful outcome to this.

“Where is she?” Jace ran in, to find his sister, laid on Aegon’s bed.

Jace then turns, to see Aegon looking distraught, as he watched Averillara.

“You” Jace was quick to accuse him, as he came for him, holding him from his collars, “you did this to her!”

“Jace!” Rhaenyra pulled Jace away, Alicent almost daring to push him, yet Aegon moved her away, assuring her that he was okay.

“You are mistaken, i did not do anything to her” Aegon responded.

“Then why is she in your bed?” Jace asked.

“Because i found her. What would you have me do? Leave her out there whilst she’s passed out?” Aegon questions Jace’s opinions.

“We do not know for sure than anything has happened” Alicent looks towards both, Jace and Rhaenyra.

“What proof do you need that something has happened, other than the fact that my daughter is laying here unconscious!” Rhaenyra shouts.

She then looks to Aegon, “i do not accuse you, but i know that you know of something. And i must know what has happened.”

“How dare you question my son?” Alicent intervened.

“Who else must i question? He was the last to see her, so he must know what has happened!” Rhaenyra shouts back.

“Lara” Daemon walks in, as she was the first thing he set his eyes on before turning to Aegon.

As he almost drew his sword, Rhaenyra had stood in front of him to stop him, before assuring him, “it is not Aegon’s doing.”

Daemon had no words, no response, but rather let his eyes talk as he stared down at the young prince, who was guarded by his mother.

Rhaenyra had Daemon put his sword away, in no way of wanting anyone to get hurt, before turning to face Aegon.

“Tell me what you know. Please” Rhaenyra pleaded, “she is my daughter.”

“He does not need to tell you anything” Alicent responds for him.

“When i found her” Aegon gulped, pausing as he gains the courage to step forward, away from his mother’s shield.

“Aegon” Alicent whispered, yet he moved her to one side.

“When I found, all i know is she asked that i help her. Before she.. passed out” Aegon responds, “she seemed restless, and unable to walk properly, when i found her walking towards me. I um-? I suppose due to the fact that she may have been suffocated.”

“And how might you know that?” Rhaenyra asks.

“The look on her neck. It was.. sore. Red” Aegon responds.

“Did you not see anyone else? Anyone at all, who could have been following her?” Rhaenyra asks.

Aegon takes a glance at his mother, before looking back at Rhaenyra, “no. I’m sorry, but i have no idea.”

Rhaenyra nods, greatful to whatever it is Aegon had told her, before looking back to her daughter.

Aegon sighs, looking away, to find both Jace and Daemon looking back at him.

Unconvinced that there was not more to it.

“Your Grace” Ser Cristian Cole was heard, as he stood in front of the door, his eyes focused on no one, other than Alicent herself, “his Majesty, calls for you.”

Daemon looks back at Ser Cristian Cole, a scoff escaping him, in how he could be as such, as though someone did not try to kill his own daughter.

“Daemon do not” Rhaenyra whispers, “this is not the time.”

Ser Cole looks towards Daemon, as Daemon does towards him, yet smugly looks away, walking off as he follows Alicent out the room.

“All he cares for is his cock and its desires” Daemon mutters.

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes, finding it unbelievable for Daemon to act this way, before looking back, her eyes meeting to Aegon.

The boy stood, guiltily, as he watched Averillara lay in his bed.

Not having the courage to own up to what he truly saw, or who he truly saw last night, after finding Averillara hurt.

Larys was Alicent’s most trusted server, and almost seen as her partner.

If he were to tell the truth, then he had no idea what consequences he would have to face. Nor having any idea of the consequences after not revealing the whole truth.

“I cannot believe you!” Alicent shouts, “she is your daughter, for crying out loud.”

“I did not order him to kill her. I simply asked that he scare her” Ser Cole responds.

“And for what? What reason was needed?” Alicent asks, “do you think some sort of story like this will have her side with us? What were you thinking?”

“Your Majesty, i-?” Larys walks in, unwelcomed, before being silenced, when he finds both Ser Cole and Alicent stood opposite one another.

“Had i given you permission to walk in? Or is that what you thought, after what you planned last night?” Alicent asks.

“I do not know what you speak of?” Larys asks.

“She knows, Larys” Ser Cole responds.

“What were you thinking!” Alicent shouts, “haven’t you done enough?”

“I thought this is what you wanted, I don’t understand-?” Larys looks to Ser Cole, “you told me this what the Queen requested.”

Alicent scoffs, before she looks towards Ser Cole, “so you thought you have the authority to speak for what I want?”

“I did not say that” Ser Cole denied.

“Whatever has happened-! It has happened” Alicent looks to the two, landing on Larys lastly, “you must stay away. Keep a low profile, and do not appear in sight of her. If she is to spill out the truth, then who knows what it will cost.”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

chapter 5

#aegon fanfic #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #halaena targaryen #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #house targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #jace velaryon #luke velaryon #ser criston cole #larys strong #hotd fanfiction #aegon targaryen fanfiction

28 notes · View notes