#I have been swept into the one piece fever

[fictionaltrvlr]

I relate to Luffy so much because he’s just sitting back watching these broken people doing the most out of pocket but pure-hearted stuff and like, yeah. that one’s mine. I’ll take her. I’ll add him to my collection. come with me you pathetic adorable heart-broken human. hey don’t cry. pirates, okay? pirates.

[oepionie]

—"🍳KITCHEN BLUES"various

💭masterlist | 💬ao3 link

sypnosis: you wouldn't really call yourself a chef. at most, your culinary abilities were barely above average. even so, when your boyfriend becomes overworked, you take your chances and cook something up for him. here's to hoping you don't burn down the entire dorm!

⊹ [ cw ] — slight mentions of injuries, ramshackle's oven is set on fire◞

⊹ [ tags ] — FLUFF.GN! READER | protective jade, lighthearted mentions of marriage in ruggie's part, leona's back muscles whsg, jamil calls you قلبي 'Albi' (My Heart)◞

⊹ [ character/s ] — trey, leona, ruggie, jade, & jamil

⊹ [ w.c ] — 1.5k+◞

You stare blankly at the ingredients set out before you. The words on the recipe you printed seemed to blur together. Rice noodles, honey, smoked paprika, roasted almonds—you had your job cut out for you, huh?

You turn to face your partner who was dozing off on the rickety couch at Ramshackle, a thin blanket haphazardly thrown atop his body. He looked to be in deep sleep, not minding the worn-out scratchy leather texture of the couch one bit.

Tensed shoulders and fatigue laced his muscles; both evidence of the strain he's been putting on himself as of late. With an ache in your heart, you return your focus to the sizzling pan. Making him lunch was the least you could do to help.

Halfway through preparing the bento, you heard the old couch creak. Your boyfriend finally wakes, he calls for you with bleary eyes and a hoarse voice.

"Prefect?"

✩— TREY CLOVER:

"Oh, you're awake?" You rush over to him, dropping the lunch box onto the counter. Concern laced your features as you pressed a palm against his flushed forehead. Trey sat up, the blanket slipping off his torso and pooling around his hips.

"Mhm. Is something wrong?" Trey chuckled, resting his forehead on your shoulder.

"Yeah. This fever of yours is worrying me." You grumbled as you reached for his glasses on the adjoining coffee table. You slipped it onto him and gave him a quick kiss on the nose.

"The unbirthday party is coming up, and you know I have to work extra hard." Trey sighed, rolling his stiff shoulders. Nodding, you silently slipped back into the kitchen to retrieve the bento box. Once you returned, you handed it over to him.

"I know, but I hope you still take the time to rest every now and again." Trey tucked the box under his arm and drew you into a hug. You melted into his embrace, savouring the warmth you'd been missing these past few weeks. He's been so busy that the only affection you've received from him was the ocassional peck on the cheek.

Ten seconds into your little respite from the world, Trey pushed you away with a hand on your shoulder. He sniffed the air, brows pinched.

"Is something on fire?"

"Sevens-! The tarts!"

You clutch a plate of charred black tarts in your hands, head bowed down in shame. Trey chuckled and took a piece of the inedible lump, turning it around in his hand.

"This reminds me of Lillia's cooking."

"You're not helping!"

✩— LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

Leona sat on the couch, tail swishing lazily in the air while he watched you work around the kitchen. His emerald gaze swept over your apron-clad body, noticing the honey smeared on your cheek.

Once you finished, you walked over to him with the meal on a tray.

"How was the spelldrive training with the freshmen?" You asked, taking a seat on the floor beside him. He raised his arm to use his elbow to remove the honey off your cheek.

"It was shit." Growling, Leona pushed himself off the couch. He stretched his arms, groaning as his muscles ached from the burn. He was turned away from you, giving you full view of his back muscles straining against the fabric of the tight black shirt he had on; you averted your eyes, suddenly feeling very warm.

"See anything you like?" He grinned and flexed his arms. You squeaked and jumped back, embarrassment written all over your face. "Leona!"

He chuckled as he pulled you off the floor and onto the couch next to him.

"A-Anyways…Epel told me you stormed out in the middle of the game?" You stammered, avoiding his gaze and changing the subject. You scooped some food from the containter and fed it to him. Leona took the spoon in his mouth, chewing it throughly.

"Damn right. None of those idiots could fly straight if their life depended on it." Leona scoffed. You lifted the tray up so he could slip his head onto your lap, face tucked into your stomach.

"I see. I guess they couldn't keep up with you, huh?" You mused, running your hands through his hair whilst feeding him a bite of food.

The flavours and spices melted across his mouth, each ingredient flawlessly blending together. Leona relaxed against your form, satisfied, your food and pampering making him feel like a king.

"Who can?"

✩— RUGGIE BUCCHI:

"Is that food?" Ruggie piped up, wrapping himself in the thin blanket. He was shaped like a taco roll, with only his head sticking out from under the cover. You chuckled and nodded, taking the food you prepared into your arms.

As you brought out a platter of doughnuts along with the bento box, his tail began to wag. You approached him carefully, taking care not to drop the stacks of chocolate doughnuts. Unbeknownst to you, Ruggie was debating whether or not to marry you on the spot.

"Of course. You just looked so exhausted yesterday, I wanted to help." You said, frowning and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Ruggie gulped, his cheeks flushing at your sweet gesture.

"What did I say about slowing down every now and then?" You grumbled, frowning at him.

"W-Well, I kinda lost track yesterday; I swear I won't do it again," Ruggie replied sheepishly, folding his arms behind his head. In truth, you were kinda right. His limbs were killing him with how sore they were right now.

"You better! I can't keep scolding you about this again and again!" You shook your head and sighed. After giving him the platter of doughnuts, you began slipping off the apron you were wearing.

"Shishishi. You sound like a worried spouse." Ruggie snickered, shoving two doughnuts into his mouth. You dropped the apron in your hand, eyes wide at the implications of what Ruggie just said. Snorting at your flustered state, he continued teasing you.

"Spare me! I'm sure you'll have plenty of time in the future to scold me." Ruggie's voice suddenly lowered to a whisper, the playful edge to it gone. "I should prolly start putting off money up for a ring now…"

"Wh-What?!"

✩— JADE LEECH:

"What might this be?" Jade appeared behind you, his towering form pressing itself against your back. An arm wrapped around you, pulling you snug against him. His hair remained dishevelled and out of place, his physique still sluggish and lethargic. Jade, contrary to popular belief, was not a morning person.

"It's just a simple little bento I'm preparing…Azul told me you skipped out on dinner last night so I um-" Feeling flushed under his intense yet drowsy gaze, you struggled to finish your sentence. "…decided to cook something up for you."

Jade hums, grasping your hands in his own. He instantly pauses as he feels the texture of scratchy woven fabric beneath his skin. The eel looked down to see your hands covered with sloppily placed bandages and bandaids.

He stared down at your damaged hands for a minute, an unsettling smile creeping up his face.

"Who did this." Jade stated firmly, a dark, pointed expression on his face. His fingers rubbed soothing circles over your palm, patiently waiting for your response. "I need names, my pearl."

You fiddled with one of the bandages wrapped around your finger.

"No one did this. I'm just not really the best person to put near a kitchen knife or a pan with boiling oil." You laughed sheepishly, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Jade chuckled alongside you. All previous apprehension from him seemed to fade away.

"I see. I appreciate the gesture however I wish you were more careful." Jade leaned down next to your ear, his voice dropping to a low whisper.

"Allow me to take care of you first, these bandages are in dire need of a change."

✩— JAMIL VIPER:

"Albi?" Jamil groaned, raising his arms to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. He sat up and instantly regretted his decision when his head started spinning; he could already feel the start of a migraine. You rushed over and shushed him, pushing him to sit back down on the couch.

"Are you okay?" Frowning, you plopped the box open and scooped up some food for him to eat. Jamil leaned forward to take it into his mouth, humming at the taste.

Yesterday's events began to resurface in his mind. He was given a potionology assignment to complete alongside Kalim.

Everything was going smoothly until Kalim made the decision to add some sugar to the cauldron for unknown reasons. The cauldron exploded and Jamil ended up getting hit with the fumes, breathing it in. Which was probably the reason why his head felt like it was being split open.

"A bit. If my memory serves me well, the effects of this potion should wear off in a few hours." He mumbled, allowing himself to get fed by and spoiled by you. You smiled and reached for a napkin to wipe down the corners of his lips. "That's good. Is the food to your liking?"

"It tastes great." Jamil compliments, taking the box into his own hands. "Thank you for looking after me; is there anything you want me to make for you?"

"That curry you gave me the other day! It tasted so good!"

"Of course." Jamil smiled at you. Regardless of the numerous hijinks he has to deal with as Kalim's retainer and Scarabia's vice dorm leader, you've always been an anchor of support for him; holding him firm when everything appears to be sweeping him away.

A/N: This was a request! Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

[seriouslysnape]

A Caring Angel

Remus Lupin x Fem! Reader Tags: Sick Remus. Emetephobia (it's only referenced but it made me anxious so read with care). Post-full moon Remus. Word Count: 2.0k “I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ 

He found himself waking up to the sound of an angel.

Its voice was so light, airy, and calm that he almost could’ve been lulled back to sleep by it. It brought a warmth to his chest that spread across to his arms and down to his legs. It made him feel comforted…it made him feel at peace. 

When his eyes first opened, he was met with a glow of light surrounding the individual that had brought him out of his slumber. It was the halo, he assumed, and it was so bright that it was nearly blinding.

Confusion began to set in. What was an angel doing here? He recognized his bed beneath him…the smell of lavender from the candles on the dresser. He knew he was home, so what was an angelic figure doing here? Was he about to be swept away into the afterlife?

“There you are,” The voice said, and he felt a hand on his shoulder that was shaking him gently. “It’s me, my love.” 

He recognized the voice then, and he realized that it wasn’t an angel…not technically. But frankly, he couldn’t quite see the difference between an angel and you. When his eyes finally focused, he realized that the “halo” was actually just the sun beaming in through the bedroom window. It spilled past the curtains and painted you with sunlight, making you glow and shine more than you usually did.

He watched you press the back of your hand to his forehead, moving from his temple to the center. A concerned, yet concentrated, look crossed over your features as you felt his skin. He didn’t feel overly warm, which made you feel better to know that the fever must have finally broken. Your hand retreated from his head, your palm resting on his midriff and caressing him through the covers of the bed that he was snuggled in. 

He felt relieved to know that it wasn’t dead, and that it was just you waking him up gently. However, that didn’t help his confusion because this wasn’t the norm. 

“Can you hear me, Rem?” You asked with the sweetest, most nurturing tone you could produce.

Your expression was neutral, and you had a small, genuine smile on your face. But he could tell you were worried sick – your eyes said it all. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, noting how dry his mouth and throat were. 

You caught the croak in his voice and reached for the glass of water you had ready to go for him on the nightstand. He needed some assistance with sitting up, which only made him even more confused as to what was happening. As a matter of fact, he didn’t even know what day it was or even what time it was. He would never complain about you doting over him…but he didn’t like seeing you so anxious.

He practically snatched the glass from you, gulping down the glass of water like it was the only thing keeping him alive. He drained the glass, sighing at the feeling of the cool water settling in his system to replenish him. 

“I tried to keep you hydrated, but you just couldn’t keep anything down,” You said, reaching for a waste bin you had nearby and setting it next to him. “Just in case you feel like you’ll be sick again.”

Remus wasn’t even aware he had been sick. He didn’t remember being sick. Obviously whatever was going on and whatever had happened – he didn’t remember any of it, and it was shaking you up.

That was when he noticed the array on his bedside table. A pitcher of water, empty potion vials, damp wash rags. Clearly, it had been one rough wave of sickness.

When he didn’t respond, you went on.

“How are you, Rem?” You asked with the sweetest, most nurturing tone you could produce.

His muscles were aching something awful. They felt like they were on fire when he shifted on the mattress – his core burning as he tried to get comfortable again. He tried to piece everything together…but none of it was making sense or ringing any bells.

“Lousy,” He groaned. “I feel sore.”

“I’m sorry,” You pressed a sympathetic kiss to his forehead. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You were all tensed up.”

A blank expression covered the man’s face. The lost look in his eyes was a telltale sign that he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about. The last thing he remembered was going to bed Friday night…and the next thing he knew he was being woken up by you. It must’ve been Saturday morning by now.

“Was…I sick last night?” He asked, swallowing hard.

“Rem, you’ve been sick the last few days. It’s Tuesday,” You said, and Remus’ heart dropped into his stomach. “You don’t remember?”

He blinked in surprise. He had been sick for three days and had no knowledge of it? Not a single stitch of memory of the last few days? 

“No,” He managed to give a small chuckle, despite the pounding in his chest. “I’ve been trying to figure it out.”

He regretted telling you that the moment he said it. The way your face fell and filled with even more anxiety made his heart hurt. He wasn’t sure what he had said or done in the last few days to shake you up so bad.

“Oh, Rem. You’ve been so sick the last few days,” You said. “It came out of nowhere. You seemed okay, but then I woke up during the night and you were sweating and shaking."

Remus was listening to every word. He was finally beginning to make sense of what you were saying…of what actually happened. 

 “The fever was really beginning to scare me, but it finally broke early this morning.” You said. “I thought maybe it was the flu but-” Your pause was sharp.

 It was so quick that he knew it was you refraining from saying what you were thinking. You didn’t even have to say it for Remus to know what you were thinking though…because he was thinking it too.

“It was the moon.” He stated.

You held your lip slightly between your teeth, chewing on it as your brain scrambled for something to say. What could you say? How could you verbally admit that Remus couldn’t handle the full moons as well as he used to?

Over the last year or so, full moons had been doing a number on Remus. He had always said that every full moon was different…some full moons were worse than others. But lately, the recovery time for every full moon was longer and tougher…with some even worse side effects. 

This wasn’t the first time that Remus had acquired some mild fatigue and an overall crummy few days…but this was the first time that the aftermath of a full moon had made him physically and violently sick – and left him with no memory of it. 

“It’s just one of those things,” Remus reminded you. “Full moons get harder and harder the older I get. That’s just how it is.”

“I don’t like seeing you struggle like that.” You pressed your hand to his forehead again, relieved that he still felt normal.

Remus knew that the aftermath of a full moon was hard on you because of what it did to him. He was irritable, in pain, completely overstimulated. It made him a man that wasn’t really Remus. It turned him into someone he did not like.

“I know, darling.” He said, taking that same hand into his and stroking his thumb across the back of your hand. “I didn’t say or do anything mean to you, did I?” He asked.

“Not at all, honey. You could barely form any kind of sentence,” You said, reaching for the water pitcher on the bedside table to refill his water glass. “When you did speak, it was all gibberish.” 

It was true. Remus was so delirious and fever-ridden that he wasn’t processing or forming anything correctly. It was three days of Remus being completely lost to the world and fighting off whatever illness the moon had bestowed upon him. 

Remus sipped on the next glass of water, nursing it instead of gulping it down. He was taking the time to actually think about all of this and process it instead of brushing it off. This obviously had been a pretty bad scare, and it was something he needed to take into consideration.

“You haven’t really eaten anything in days. I can whip up some soup for you,” You said. “Are you feeling well enough to eat?”

Remus’ stomach growled at the thought of one of your homemade soups. He hoped that some nourishment would settle the shakiness in his hands and the lightheadedness he was feeling. 

“You’re an angel, you know that?” He brought your palm to his lips and left a sweet kiss there. “Thank you for taking care of me. I’m sorry for ruining your weekend.”

“Oh, Remus. You didn’t ruin my weekend,” You smiled reassuringly, as you stood from sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”

Remus followed suit, throwing the covers off and swinging his feet over the side of the bed. Just as his feet hit the floor, you were on him. 

“I’ll bring it to you, lovely. Don’t push yourself.” Your hands cradled his face, his tired eyes shining at you.

“Darling, I haven’t had a shower in days,” He said. “I feel disgusting.”

“You’re going to be weak when you stand,” You said. “I don’t want you to fall.”

“Come with me then,” He grinned, his arm snaking around your waist. “I’ll make it up to you for spoiling the weekend.”

“You actually must be feeling better,” Your cheeks grew warm. “But I’d really feel better if you would just shower and get back to bed.”

He laughed lightly, knowing that it was worth a try. 

“Alright, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” 

He was slow and careful when he stood and he (not surprisingly) discovered that your prediction was correct. All the blood rushed from his head and he felt wobbly on his legs, little spots of black dotting in his vision. 

“Maybe I should go with you,” You said, realizing he was struggling to stand. “Let’s get you freshened up quickly, yeah?”

Remus nodded, realizing just how sick he really had been. It was just something he would have to keep adjusting to, and something he would have to be prepared for. Not every full moon would be this hard on him, but he needed to be prepared as if each one would. 

Remus followed you to the shower, the sound of running water calling his name and offering a sense of relief to him. You helped him out of his T-shirt and sweats, leaving him only long enough to get him a clean set of loungewear. 

Remus felt days of grime and sweat melt off of him when he hit the stream of the water. It refreshed him and cleared his mind…and it gave him a sweet moment with you. 

“Still feeling alright?” You asked, sweeping a strand of wet hair from Remus’ eyes.

His hands were always on you, keeping you close and secure. He pressed a kiss to your neck, your cheek, your nose. He always was grateful for you, but he was always extra grateful after a bad full moon. 

“Yeah, my darling. I’m alright.”

After a shower and a decent meal, Remus knew he would have the fuel to get stronger. He would certainly take it easy for the next few days and have you all over him for every minute of him. You would make him soups and teas and goodies to keep him satisfied and nurtured – providing him with anything he needed to get back feeling right again. 

He would love every second of it, assuring you there was no need to fuss over him. But he knew you would do it anyway because you loved him just that much. 

And for that, he would always be grateful.

[bumblesimagines]

Midnight Beach

Part 21/END

Request: Yes or No

~~~

"You're not Indiana fucking Jones, (Y/N)."

"What is with you and Indiana Jones?" 

"Why are you going to South America? Like- Jesus, okay, what if El Dorado is real? What are you going to do about the amount of people who are going to come running for a taste of gold? The people who'll come after you for even having a piece of the real deal? What about this Singh guy? He's dangerous, you said so yourself!" The redhead sputtered, waving her arms around animatedly as he packed some things into his backpack. A simple change of clothes, underwear, deodorant, a hydro flask, his phone charger. He'd seen what Liv packed before her trips out to visit her aunt and go hiking but the experience of trekking through a jungle? Kildare wasn't exactly known for its jungles. 

"At least we'll have an adult. Better than last time when it was just us on an island." He replied and swept his gaze over his room, searching for anything else he'd need. It almost felt like some sort of fever dream; clearing the air with Sarah and John B, hanging out with the Pogues on the Cut, preparing to go to a whole other continent. Christ, he'd only ever left Kildare a handful of times. Poguelandia had been a way to survive and Barbados an unavoidable accident. Now there he was, packing up to visit South America in search of someone who probably didn't even care for his existence. Completely and utterly avoidable.

"The adult is the one in trouble!" Liv nearly shrieked at him and slumped back on his bed. "You've finally lost it, (Y/N). You're flying out to South America on a presumed dead man's plane to save a deadbeat from some rich dude. Do you realize how crazy that sounds? How stupid? This is dumb. This is like... Topper Thornton level of stupidity. I hope you know that."

"I know how it sounds, Liv, but- I.." He sighed and finally turned to face the redhead. He pressed his leg against the edge of the bed and reached out to delicately comb his fingers through her vibrant locks. She puffed out her cheeks, a sign she'd be giving in soon, and stubbornly jerked her head in the other direction. "The Pogues have always been about adventures. This will be like... a farewell thing. We wrap this whole Royal Merchant and El Dorado thing up and I leave the Pogues to keep on treasure hunting or whatever it is they'll do after Big John's back home. John B's the biggest idiot I know. But even he deserves to have his father with him."

"And what about your parents?" 

"I told them that the Pogues and I were going on a little trip to process what happened to us. It's not my fault they didn't ask where we're going." A grin slipped when Liv snorted and rolled her eyes. The redhead took a deep breath and pushed herself up, brushing aside strands of hair and reaching forward to wrap her arms around him. (Y/N) cradled her head against his stomach and kissed the top of her head.

"I'll stay safe, Liv. I promise."

"You better. I don't feel like going to South America to rescue your ass."

                    ✽        ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽

Parking the jeep alongside Pope's dirt bike and getting out, (Y/N) nearly stumbled back against his jeep when JJ practically leaped into his arms followed by Pope and Cleo. (Y/N) laughed and did his best to embrace them in return, feeling JJ's hand ruffle the top of his head playfully. "You're late, man! Thought you chickened out on us."

"Not yet." He chuckled, nearly missing the wince from Sarah. He tried not to think about how the others would react to the news, especially after everything they'd been through. Rafe, Coastal Venture, Poguelandia, Barbados, and now... South America. He'd joined their little crew of misfits to help out his ex-girlfriend and now there he stood, waiting to hop on a plane to help her new on-and-off boyfriend. Fate truly had a twisted sense of humor. 

"Hey, uh, where's Kie?" Pope asked and (Y/N) shifted to look over at the entrance of the tarmac. No sign of an Uber or Lyft or even one of the Carrera's cars. He frowned, thinking of her parents and how desperate they were to keep Kiara home and safe after their return. They'd always been so protective of her. 

"It's gotta be her parents, dude. They've been up her ass." Sarah sighed, brushing her hair out of her face. 

"They must've said she couldn't come." Pope sucked his teeth. "We're going to have to do this without her, then." 

"No," JJ shook his head, adjusting the backpack strap digging into his shoulder and turning toward John B with his hand outstretched. John B immediately began shaking his head. "Gimmie the keys, man. Her parents already hate me, alright? Just.. give me an hour. It'll be like a black ops mission, in and out. Surgical removal type shit, alright? Plus... I kind of owe her."

"Oh?" John B's head snapped up and a twinkle appeared in his eyes, his fist digging around in his pocket to pull out the keys to the Twinkie. "You owe her, huh? Alright, you totally owe her. I appreciate the honesty." 

"Give me an hour, alright, ya'll?" JJ snatched the keys out of his hand and sprinted toward the Twinkie, tossing the backpack through the open window before leaping in afterward, his body awkwardly landing halfway in while John B and Pope groaned. (Y/N) snorted, watching him wiggle his whole body through the window and climb into the driver's seat.

"Feather the throttle!" John B shouted after him and the Twinkie's wheels squealed loudly against the road. They watched him drive off toward the entrance to save his... 'friend.' His very good 'friend.' Totally not his crush or anything like that. 

A hand came to rest on his shoulder and he looked back to catch Sarah's eye. She smiled at him, tired and nervous, and her fingers dug lightly into his shoulder. Sarah looked back toward the road where the Twinkie disappeared behind some trees and swallowed, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip. "Do you think he'll convince them to let her go?"

"Probably not." (Y/N) murmured. "I can't say I blame them either. I wouldn't want my daughter hanging out with people she keeps going missing with."

"I never really thought about it like that." Sarah dropped her hand and wrapped her arms around herself, the gentle breeze tousling around some of her hair. There was a heavy silence between them and despite the many discussions they had, it held an air of words yet to be spoken. Their history could never be unwritten, only forgotten over time as they entered adulthood. They'd eventually find their place in the world, their proper place, and begin a life without the other. It seemed fair to (Y/N). It was life. He'd come to accept it. Sarah Cameron had taken up much of his world in recent times, but like everything else, she'd eventually become a faint memory of his life in Figure Eight. A girl he loved and lost. An old friend. Someone he recalled both fondly and bitterly. 

"I'll keep in touch, by the way." A lie or the truth? He couldn't quite tell. Did he want to stay in communication with them, with her? It'd be a risk. They'd eventually stumble into a new adventure, something new to discover and unveil that'd prompt them to reach out, whether to experience it with him or ask him for something.

"You could attend Chapel Hill, you know." She said softly. "It's close to home, close to us but not on the island."

"That's not happening, Sarah. I want to get away from here, from Figure Eight and Kildare. I've been here long enough. I don't want to regret not doing what I always wanted. I don't want to be like some of the miserable men here who only get genuine happiness when they go on business trips away from their families. The women here either love their lives or drown themselves in wine while the men inhale coke like its air and are barely ever home. It's a nightmare living here, Sarah. You see it, I see it. The Carrera's are one of the few that seem happy together and they had to prove themselves to even be accepted as Kooks. It's... hell." 

"Not everything's so bad. There was... us and- and Topper and-"

"Things that are over, Sarah. Topper definitely won't be talking to us for a while and you and I... " (Y/N) inhaled deeply through his nose and released it in a heavy sigh. "You and I are done. For now or for good, I don't really know. If things change in the future... if we change in the future... maybe we'll find each other again. But I'm done with bullshit love triangles and John B." 

"I know. I just-"

"Eight hours?! JJ, don't have eight hours! We've got a jet here. We're all waiting!" The two of them turned at the sound of John B's voice, spotting him speaking into the phone with a look of frustration. He blinked and shook his head rapidly, stammering and stumbling over his words before pulling the phone away from his ear and sighing. 

"What's going on?" Pope asked as he and Cleo sat down on the steps leading up to the plane. John B rubbed the area between his brows and pinched the bridge of his nose, tucking his phone into his back pocket.

"Kiara got sent to a wilderness camp," He told them. "So, JJ is going to try to rescue her. He says he'll need eight hours-"

"Hours we don't have." Sarah cut in, folding her arms over her chest and walking toward him. "John B-"

"I know, I know. JJ said that if they don't make it in time, we should just go. That- That somehow they'll make it to South America." John B sighed again at the faces everyone made. Kiara locked away in a wilderness camp and JJ on a mission to rescue her. Sounded like an average Tuesday for the Pogues. "Yeah, I know, but it's JJ. He'll figure something out."

"So, what? We just waitin' around now?" Cleo questioned, her eyes flickering between them. "The longer we wait, the farther Singh gets, you know that, right?"

John B ran a hand over his face and nodded. The sky above them began to darken with the setting sun and gray clouds. Time seemed to tick by faster than expected.  "Yeah, yeah, we know, Cleo. But this is Kie and JJ. We can't just leave leave them."

"Guess we're waiting then." Sarah pursed her lips. "Better get comfortable."

Another hour or two passed and night officially fell overhead, leaving them with only the lights along the airstrip. The plane pilot settled comfortably in the cockpit, awaiting instructions while the Pogues paced outside. No sign of JJ or Kiara, no calls, no texts. Dead silence on their end that only made frustration grow. John B continued to stare out toward the entrance, tapping his foot or dialing their numbers in vain. 

"We have to go, John B," Sarah spoke up, pacing along the steps with her hands firmly on her hips. "We don't have eight hours. We can't wait around any longer, alright?" 

"I'll try to call him again, okay?" As John B reached into his pocket and wiggled out his phone, the sound of a dirt bike grew closer and two dark figures on a bike appeared from the darkness of the airstrip. Everyone's attention immediately snapped toward it and Cleo groaned in relief. The scold on the tip of Pope's tongue halted and they all froze as the driver tossed their helmet off with their bloodied hands. (Y/N) felt his blood turn cold. 

Hands left his sides and lifted to his face. Rafe roughly grabbed his throat, fingers digging into (Y/N)'s skin. A soft whimper left him and he pressed his hands against Rafe's chest, attempting to push back the blonde. "I need you to listen to me very carefully." He spotted Rafe's pupils in the light. He was high. "I need to get rid of John B. He came back to hurt my family and Sarah's helpin' him. I don't want to hurt her. She's my sister. But I can't let John B walk free. You know that, (Y/N). I'll let you come with me in case things get outta hand... But don't get in the way." 

Taking in a sharp breath when Rafe released him, (Y/N) gingerly touched his sore throat. Rafe reached around the back of his waistband and took out a revolver, letting (Y/N) soak it in for a moment before tucking it back into its hiding spot. A coldness washed over him, making every hair on his body stand straight. Rafe ran a hand over his face and sniffled lightly, rubbing his nose and slapping a hand over (Y/N)'s back. He casually tossed the door open and stepped out.

"Come on, Barry's waiting."

He felt the phantom touch of fingers digging into his skin, hands coiling around his throat in an iron grip that left him momentarily breathless. Only the pained groan and Rafe's hurried movements broke him out of his brief trance, the withering and panting body on the back of the bike finally registering. Ward toppled over, bringing the bike along with him as he fell onto the concrete, revealing the large bloody circle on his shirt. Fucking Camerons.

"You're okay, Dad. You're okay, you're okay." Rafe breathlessly repeated as he reached down to bring Ward back up onto his feet. He finally knocked the helmet off Ward's head, revealing his pained face. Sarah staggered backward, staring wide-eyed at her father's bleeding form. Rafe turned to them, chest heaving. "Don't just stand there! I need some help! Come on, help me! (Y/N)! Please, Sarah."

Short, rapid breaths escaped Sarah's mouth and she hurried forward despite her previous hesitance. "What happened?!" She asked, pulling one of Ward's arms over her shoulder, helping her father wobble closer and closer to the plane. 

"A fisherman spotted him, alright? They know he's alive. We gotta get him off the island right now." Rafe explained, tightly clutching his father's shirt and helping him inside the rest of the way. Sarah brought her hands to her forehead and moved away from the stairs, mumbling curses under her breath as she began to pace before bolting inside to check on them.

"Hell no. We are not getting on the plane with him. Hell no!" Pope shook his head as he cursed and turned toward John B. The brunette remained silent, eyes staring at the dots of red littering the ground and leading up to the plane.

(Y/N) rubbed his throat and turned around to face them, inhaling softly. Rafe looked different. Still had that deranged look in his eye but he'd buzzed his hair, ridding himself of the boyish blonde waves. The blood on his hands... a look that fitted him. A coked-up, daddy's boy who'd do anything for his approval, even if it meant staining his hands. 

"He wasn't supposed to come," Sarah said breathlessly, heading down the steps and coming to a stop beside John B. "He stays on the island, he gets arrested."

"No, no, Sarah. I don't think you understand. I don't know if I can get on a plane with that guy-"

"Just listen, John B. This is his plane. I can't stop him from leaving. But he will still give us a ride to Orinoco, so if you don't wanna get on the plane, I get it. We'll find another way!"

John B swallowed, staring down at her as his lips pressed together. "There's no other way." He muttered, turning his head to look at Pope and Cleo. He took in a deep breath. "Let's go. Let's get on the plane."

"With them?" Pope stared at him, completely bewildered, and features slightly hardened with bitterness. With Rafe? (Y/N) grimaced. He'd be fine with just Ward, even if the man appeared half-dead with his groaning. At John B's nod, Pope sighed and turned around, preparing to head into the plane when Rafe stepped out. The two stopped and stared at each other, jaws clenching and muscles tensing. The air filled heavy with tension and unfinished business.

Rafe moved first, heading down the steps and brushing past the glaring boy. Cleo placed a hand on Pope's back, urging him inside and blocking his way until Pope finally headed up into the plane. (Y/N) took in a breath and walked forward, only taking a couple steps toward the plane before sweaty lean arms wrapped around his shoulders. He froze in Rafe's embrace, feeling those bloodied hands curl around the back of his shirt. "Keep an eye on him,' He whispered. "Please."

"He'll be fine." (Y/N) murmured breathlessly, and pulled himself free of the embrace to cut the distance between him and the stairs. He headed up them, hearing Rafe say the same sentiment to Sarah as she followed after him. 

Inside the plane, Ward took up two seats near the front with his injury properly bandaged. He winced and groaned every few seconds, his face dripping with sweat. He seemed stable enough. Pope and Cleo sat far from him, side by side with Cleo quietly speaking to a fuming Pope. Sarah collapsed on one of the seats across from Ward with a first aid kit in her hands. John B sat a few seats down, looking weirdly calm about the whole situation. (Y/N) pursed his lips.

It was going to be a long ride to South America.

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"It's the Wild West out here," Cleo murmured as they stepped off the plane. The airstrip contained multiple people in military gear, some held guns or leashes clipped to attack dogs. Different country, different laws, different treatment. (Y/N) only prayed they'd at least manage to stay on the right end of a gun, far from the barrel or bullets. 

"Sarah!" Ward called out, limping down the stairs and holding onto the railings. "I'm coming."

Sarah whipped around to face him, a scoff escaping her. "No, you're not. You got us here like you said you would. Now go on to Guadeloupe. You need to see a doctor!"

"You're way in over your head. I can help, let me help. Please-"

"No!" Sarah shouted, cutting him off sharply. "Get back in the plane. You promised you weren't a part of this." 

Ward fell silent, his eyes trailing over each of them. He pressed his lips together tightly and nodded. "Okay." He sighed, turning around and wobbling back into the plane. Sarah turned away and ran a frustrated hand over her face, nodding for them to continue off the airstrip with a solemn look on her face. 

Getting a taxi and heading further into Tres Rocas, they listened to the sound of fireworks and firecrackers as people roamed the decorated streets. Lively music played from different buildings and children raced up and down the streets, clutching flags and other things in their hands. Things seemed better, more friendlier than the dreary, heavily watched airport. 

"Looks like a local holiday," Cleo mused, stepping out of the taxi and observing her surroundings. (Y/N) watched a firework shoot up into the air and hummed quietly before turning to face the others when the taxi drove away, leaving them in the middle of the crowded street. 

"So, we have to assume that Singh's already gone upriver, alright? We're looking for a guy named Jose. He's gonna take us to the dig site. I, uh... I do not have a last name."

"I hate to break it to you, John B," (Y/N) began. "You're in a Latin country. Half the dudes here are going to be named Jose and most of them will be likely working some sort of job regarding the river since, you know, this is a river town."

"(Y/N)'s right. It'll be like findin' a teardrop in the ocean." Cleo rubbed her forehead as she spoke, a tired look passing over her face. "We'd have better luck tryin' to find Singh."

"Well, I'm assuming river guides probably hang out by the river?" Sarah attempted halfheartedly.

"Yeah, and if they're anything like the guys at OBX, they're probably getting drunk on a holiday." 

Sarah hummed thoughtfully and placed her hands on her hips, a hopeful grin appearing on her face. "Let's start with the bars, then. Divide and conquer, ya'll."

And with that, the group split up and spread out around town. (Y/N) put his basic Spanish lessons from school to use, hitting up any place that looked like it sold beer and asking around for Jose the river guide. Many of the locals waved him off or shook their heads, unable to answer any of his questions with useful information. Regardless, he thanked them and went on his way until he met up with Pope and Cleo again near the center of the town, the looks on their faces telling him they'd have similar luck. 

The sound of tires squealing caught their attention and they spotted a jeep driving down the road, heading straight for them. "Run." Pope breathed and without needing to be told twice, the three of them took off running down the street. The jeep honked repeatedly, the sound of it growing closer and closer as they ducked down different streets trying to lose it. 

"Como estas, amigos?" A familiar face stuck their head out a windowless bus, speaking in barely understandable Spanish and with a hude dumb grin on his face. Fucking JJ and Kiara. Go figure. He laughed gleefully but the look quickly vanished at the realization that they were being chased. 

"Already?! We just got here!" Kiara groaned, hurrying off the bus with JJ. "What's happening?"

"Singh's men are after us. We gotta think of a plan." Pope explained breathlessly, bracing his hands on his knees and attempting to calm his racing heart by taking deep breaths.

"Let's hijack the bus!"

"This bus?" Kiara scoffed at JJ's proposal, motioning wildly to the old rickety bus they'd taken. "It only goes ten miles an hour!"

"They're coming now, guys! Hide in the fruit stands, come on!" Cleo ushered them further down an alleyway where rows of stalls stood. They ducked and weaved around the bustling people until they found an unoccupied stand to hide behind. (Y/N) could feel droplets of sweat roll down his cheeks, his eyes locked on the rifles the two men carried around as they asked and checked the bus. The two eventually headed back to their jeep and took off down the road.

"Welcome to South America," Cleo said, tossing her arms up.

"They're foreigners, Cleo." (Y/N) murmured, catching his breath and running the back of his hand over his forehead. "The locals haven't done anything. They don't owe us any help either."

"So..." Kiara trailed off, her chest heaving with deep breaths. "What's the plan?"

JJ swallowed, his eyes flickering over the stands and locals bustling around before his lips twisted up. He looked back at Kiara, studying her face for a moment before looking back toward them. "Barracuda Mike gave us the ride here. We could... ask him?" He proposed, wincing at the deadpan look Pope gave him. "He's our only shot, man!"

"Fantastic..." Pope sighed heavily. "Barracuda Mike it is."

Barracuda Mike, as it turned out, was a smuggler who primarily dealt with smuggling drugs and other similar things out of North Carolina via his cargo plane. And, he seemed surprisingly understanding when the group returned to him asking for help, claiming to have a boat set up at the river. He led them to it, even offering over a mag of machetes for them to use as weapons as he led them through a short trek in the jungle and to a boat perched on the water.

"I'm addin' the cost of this rig to what you already owe me. I don't expect to see it again, anyway. I asked around at the landin' today. Your buds did leave this mornin', but I was able to get directions to El Tesoro. Pretty loose since only Jose knows the real way, but it'll get you in the right zip code." Barracuda Mike explained, handing over a piece of paper with directions written on it and nodding for them to climb into the boat. 

Turning to look at him, Pope offered a small smile. "Thanks." 

"Don't thank me." Barracuda Mike brushed him off with a dry chuckle and wave of his hand. "Start prayin'." Ah, that made his willingness to help more understandable. He wanted them out of his hair as quickly as possible. "

With a couple of strained grunts, Barracuda Mike pushed the boat further into the water and lifted his hand to wave at them as the boat began floating downstream. JJ got the motor started and their speed increased, releasing a soft hum that mixed with the distant singing birds, chirping insects, and even the occasional hoot of a monkey. The five of them settled comfortably on the boat, filling the silence with chatter. (Y/N) spent his time gazing into the murky, brown river water until night fell and they took turns steering the boat to get some rest.

By the early morning, the sound of another boat heading down the river prompted JJ to wake everybody up and steer the boat closer to the bank where it'd be hidden by foliage and low-hanging leaves. They ducked down and waited, watching as a boat filled with Singh's men passed by, armed and going rather fast.

"They're not lookin' for us." Cleo mused. "They're movin' too quick."

"They're looking for John B and Sarah." JJ realized quietly, darting up from his spot and starting the motor back up. "They gotta know where they're headed. We need to go. They're gonna need us!"

The boat quickly resumed its journey down the rivers, speed fast enough to keep up with Singh but slow enough not to draw their attention. (Y/N) watched the boat drift in and out of view, disappearing over the horizon until JJ sped back up. His gaze moved over to the bag of machetes resting on the floor of the boat. Weapons, Barracuda Mike had called them. Weapons meant to help them against armed and trained men with guns. Maybe he should've listened to Liz, after all. 

Early the next morning they encountered a small docking area by the riverbank. Kiara studied the paper Barracuda Mike had given them, her head lifting every so often to look at the village before she nodded to herself. "Guys, I think this is El Tesoro. The trailhead to the mountain is supposed to start here." She told them.

"Oh, shit," JJ whispered, motioning ahead to two of Singh's men lingering on the docks. "What are we gonna do? We gotta get past them somehow."

Pope's lips pursed and he slipped his backpack off his shoulders, setting it down on his lap and rummaging through the contents before pausing and looking up at them. "I... may have an idea."

"This is so stupid." (Y/N) whispered, peeking over the windowsill of the old, abandoned shack that had the perfect view of the men. One of them dozed off on a boat while the other fiddled around with different things, seemingly bored of waiting around. "If one of you gets shot-"

"It'll be fine, (Y/N)." Kiara assured him, ensuring the note she'd tied to the end of the fish hook wouldn't fall before she tossed the line out. It landed in the boat the napping man lied in and he startled, sitting up with squinted eyes and looking around until he noticed the note. "Get ready, ya'll.... and.... now, JJ!"

The blonde lit a firecracker and tossed it into the air, far enough that it hit the side of boat and exploded in the water. The man scrambled up and grabbed his rifle, his head on a swivel as his partner ducked down. Another firecracker landed and exploded nearby, prompting the man to start shooting blindly and forcing them to duck down to avoid being seen or hit. 

"Return fire, Pope! Return fire!" JJ shouted and Pope quickly lit another firecracker, tossing it over the roof of the shack. 

When that one exploded, they heard the man shouting at his partner to get in the boat. The boat quickly sped off with the two men on it and the group sent them off with one last firecracker. Once they disappeared down the river, (Y/N) stood up and shook his head, rolling his eyes at JJ and Pope's celebratory handshake.

"Hey, hey," Cleo called, stepping out of the shack and sucking her teeth. "No time for celebrating. We didn't do nothing yet."

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"You know," (Y/N) exhaled breathlessly, sweat dripping profusely from his skin from both the humidity and trek up the mountain. Kiara answered with a soft groan, clutching her side as she leaned against a tree and turned back to look at him. Pope and Cleo had long gone ahead of them, clearing a way with two machetes as if they were used to hiking through jungles. "I'm glad this little last adventure... with you all has been... interesting, to say the least."

"Last?" JJ repeated, quickly as breathless. His blonde strands stuck to his forehead and temples, soaked as if he'd taken a plunge in the river. "What- What do you mean, last?"

"Yeah, I mean-" Kiara took a deep gulp of air and swatted away a buzzing insect. "-I'm sure there'll be other adventures."

"Yeah, for you guys." (Y/N) stood up straighter and rolled back his shoulder, wincing when his back ached. His legs were in no better condition, aching and weeping for rest. JJ and Kiara stared at him, their brows knitting together. "I- I... Jesus, I hate hiking. I'm never doing this again."

"Ditto." Kiara laughed and turned her back to him, using the trunk she'd been leaning against to help her move over a fallen log. "But, what do you mean? We're Pogues. All of us. Even Cleo and you. We're... We're a family... one that should never go hiking again."

"Remember that night when Sarah told us about the plane?" You asked, waiting for JJ to step over the log and sighing quietly when the blonde tripped and nearly fell. He recovered quickly, shooting them both an innocent grin as he wiped moist dirt off his hand. (Y/N) cautiously stepped over the log, keeping in mind the root that'd nearly taken out JJ and glancing up at them as they continued the trek.

"Yeah, you and JB cleared the air, right?" JJ glanced over his shoulder at him. 

"Yeah, sorta, I guess. But, uhm... I told them that I'd-" 

"Woah, guys, look at this view!" Kiara suddenly called out with a giddy laugh, the path leading out to an open area where they could overlook the thick jungle and the mountains ahead. (Y/N) noticed Pope and Cleo breaking away from each other quickly and hummed quietly, a smile pulling at the edges of his lips. Kiara and JJ, Pope and Cleo... Sarah and John B. They all had each other, in some way or another. 

"What were you saying, (Y/N)?" JJ turned to look at him, causing the others to turn as well. 

"Oh, uhm..." (Y/N) trailed off and sighed, looking out toward the gorgeous view before him. A thick green jungle as far as the eye could see, giant mountains that reached toward the skies, the beautiful song of the jungle sounding through the air. Beautiful, but everything that'd led him up to that moment hadn't truly been worth the view. "I'm leaving the OBX. For good. I'm- I'm going to get my diploma and apply to colleges away from here."

"What?" The resounding response to his revelation. 

"I know, I know... Poguelandia, I know. I deserve more than being the thirdwheel or the ex being dragged along, guys. As much as ya'll hate to admit it, I'm a Kook. I care about each of you, even John B... sometimes. You'll always be family. And sometimes, families have to separate to live their lives to the fullest, right? I want a degree, a proper job, and a safe life. It's boring but it'll be comfortable." The Pogues remained largely quiet, mixed expressions on their faces and different emotions flashing but in the end, they all settled on bittersweet smiles and nods. "And I promise to send wedding invitations, if I ever get engaged."

"You better!" JJ laughed, lurching forward to swing his arms around his shoulders and hold him tightly. "You better, you bastard. I expect to be a groomsman, you hear?"

"And you better keep in touch, too." Kiara piped in.

"And visit when you can, alright?" Pope added and Cleo agreed with a nod. 

"I will, I will." (Y/N) chuckled, running his hand over JJ's back before the two pulled away. "Now, let's go find those two idiots."

They headed down the mountain after Pope pointed out a manmade trail heading down and further into the jungle. JJ took the lead with Kiara, using machetes to cut down any thick grass, exposed roots, or fallen wood. They walked with idle chatter until a loud, distant yet not far explosion sounded through the air, startling the animals and causing birds in a nearby tree to shoot up into the air in a panic. They fell silent and exchanged wide-eyed glances before a silent, mutual agreement passed over them and they broke out into a sprint in the direction of the explosion.

"Careful!" Pope called when Kiara tripped over a root but brushed him off with a wave and stood back up to hurry after JJ. 

They continued through the path until they heard the familiar sound of Ward's voice, followed by Big John and Sarah. Immediately ducking down, they carefully made their way up the steep path and peeked over, spotting Ward holding Big John, Sarah, and John B at gunpoint while speaking quietly to them.

"What are we gonna do?" Pope questioned quietly.

"Is this ride or die?" JJ asked quietly, his hand curling around the machete sheathed away. The others mimicked his movements, freeing their machetes from their sheaths and holding tightly onto them. JJ glanced back at them and grinned. "P4L."

The group charged forward with battle cries, pulling Ward's attention away from the three and onto them. He swung his gun around frantically as the group shouted at him, demanding he put his gun down. Ward panted, his eyes wide and arm swinging around, continuously switching who he pointed the gun at in a desperate attempt to spook them into staying back.

"You can't shoot just one of us." (Y/N) exhaled, grinding his teeth when Ward looked back at him with softened features. 

"If you have to shoot somebody, Ward, shoot me." Big John told him through labored breaths, his bloodied hands pressed against his side. Shit. Ward spun on his heel to face him but John B stepped in his way, staring him right in the eye and arching a brow.

"Or me." He said softly, watching Ward's features harden and the trembling of his hand grow. He curled his lip and took a deep breath, attempting to steady his arm but then Sarah stepped in front of John B, her eyes shiny with tears but her features showcasing her utter exhaustion. 

"Stop." She whispered, swallowing as a tear slid down her cheek and she stepped forward, pressing the barrel to her chest and staring at her father. "Enough."

"Don't-"

"You're not gonna kill all of us. I know you won't. I know you." Sarah's lips began to tremble and she shakily exhaled. "You forget that I know you."

Her words seemed to have an effect on Ward, his own eyes flooding with tears and face scrunching up as his shoulders began shaking. Sarah placed her hand over his, pushing it down and pulling the gun from his weakened grip. "I couldn't." Ward gasped, tears running freely down his face. His palm came to rest on Sarah's cheek and he weakly smiled. "I couldn't do it."

"Yeah? Well, I can." A new voice called followed by the sound of a gun cocking. One of Singh's men stumbled out of the jungle, his gun raised and pointed at them before dropping down to Big John when John B pointed his own gun at him. "Toss it!"

"Take it easy, bud." Big John spoke weakly. "Your boss is dead. You got no reason to do this."

"I can think of a few reasons." The man sneered at Big John, his eyes jumping back to John B. "Toss it!" He demanded sharply and John B lifted his hands, letting the gun slip from his grasp. The man slinked forward, keeping his gun trained on them. "Thought you'd end up with the gold, eh? Alright, nobody move. My mate back there is dead. Because of you. You..." He pointed his gun at Sarah. "Can go first."

Exchanging one last somber look with his daughter, Ward charged forward, taking multiple shots to his body but refusing to relent until he tackled the man and took them both tumbling down the cliff nearby. Sarah staggered forward, short gasps escaping her that turned into quiet sobs. (Y/N) moved first, snapping the others out of their shock, and walked toward the cliff's edge. He spotted the two lifeless bodies at the bottom and grimaced, closing his eyes tightly and listening to Sarah's sobs grow louder. 

"Big John? Hey, Big John?" Pope's panicked voice made him open his eyes and he turned his head, noticing Big John's head lolling off to the side. (Y/N)'s arms reached out, pulling Sarah against him, and nodded to John B. The brunette shot him a thankful look before rushing over to his father, speaking hurriedly to him and slinging on of his arms over his shoulder. 

"Come on, we gotta get you out of here, Dad." John B told him, waiting for Pope to get his other arm before they began heading back down the trail as quickly as possible. 

"We'll let them know when we get back that his body's here, alright?" (Y/N) took Sarah by the shoulders, squeezing them lightly. She sniffled, another sob wrecking her body but she managed to nod weakly, one arm sliding around his waist to use him as support. "You'll be okay, Sarah. We'll all be okay."

They took turns helping Big John, the weight of a tall grown man weakening them after some time. They managed to reach the deserted dock, getting to their boat, and laying him down. (Y/N) got the motor started, steering them up the river as the Pogues tried giving Big John reassurances through their tears. He remained by the motor, watching them slowly come to terms with Big John's fate. His breathing had long become labored, his body too exhausted to fight through the pain. 

With a trembling hand, Big John took his son's hand. "We did it together, my boy. Just... just like we drew it up. Hey, hey, Bird... it's okay." He weakly smiled up at him, rubbing his thumb over John B's hand. "I know... that I wasn't any great shakes as a father... but you... you were the best son any man could hope for. I want you to know that..."

"Tell me when we get home, Dad, okay?" John B sniffled, reaching into his bag to pull out the block of gold they'd been able to get from El Dorado before exploding the entrance alongside Singh. He set the block on Big John's chest for him to look at, a pained, bittersweet smile on his face. "We did it. We did it, Dad."

Big John's eyes fluttered closed, his breathing growing weaker and shorter. John B's lips rolled into his mouth, the tears dripping down his cheeks and quiet sobs escaping him. "I'll see you... I'll see you at home, kid..." Big John told him, before his chest ceased rising and John B hugged him tightly.

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"Is this all of it?" 

(Y/N) tore his attention away from his startling empty room to look over at Liz. He'd taken down most of his pictures, even those of him and Sarah, and packed them away in a box. He'd already chosen which ones he felt like keeping and which ones he felt fine with parting. His closet remained partly empty, a couple clothes kept in there just in case, but his essentials and anything sentimental had been packed away and in the back of his jeep. 

"Yeah," (Y/N) nodded, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket and nodding to himself. "We're good to go, I guess." 

"Good, 'cause I have a flight to catch." Liv walked forward, wrapping her arms around him before planting a kiss on his cheek. She scanned the room and hummed quietly, turning around and making her way to the door. "I'll be waiting for you on campus, alright? I already spoke to your future roomie-"

"Liv." (Y/N) groaned. 

"And I have to say, he's pretty cute. I think you'll have fun together." Liv winked, her mischievous giggles echoing down the hall. 

Rolling his eyes and quietly muttering to himself, (Y/N) took one last survey of his childhood bedroom. He'd miss it, even with all the lonesome memories it held. He walked toward the door and stepped outside, gently shutting it and making his way down the hall. His eyes took in every inch of the hall, gaze lingering on the rare family photos still hung up despite his parent's pending divorce. Things were better that way. They'd go their own way, find their own happiness. Communication with them had improved, at least. No more ignored calls.

"Goodbye, home sweet home." He whispered to himself, striding down the stairs and picking up his keys. 

(Y/N) stepped outside and shut the door with a soft thud, locking it and double-checking it locked. He inhaled deeply and stepped off the porch, waving to Liv's car when it sped down the road. Topper waited at the end of the driveway, attempting to look as casual as possible while leaning against his truck. 

"What's up, Top?"

"Came to see you off, is all," Topper responded with a shrug, pushing himself off the truck and walking up the driveway toward him. He stood in front of him, twisting his lips up a bit before throwing his arms around him in a tight hug. (Y/N) stumbled backward and chuckled, wrapping his arms around him. "I'm still mad at you.... but I'll miss you."

"Yeah, yeah, don't get into trouble, alright?" (Y/N) leaned back, ruffling up his pristine blonde locks and laughing when Topper huffed. "Keep an eye on Sarah, will you? But be nice about it." 

"She's a big girl," Topper muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "I will. Just for you, though."

"Uh-huh." (Y/N) climbed into his jeep and turned the engine on, feeling it come to life beneath him. He took another look at the boy and smiled, closing the door and resting his arm on top of it. "I'll be seeing you in a couple months, anyway. Got that big thing with the mayor, remember? Something about the treasure."

"Don't be a stranger, then!" Topper called, watching the car reserve out of the driveway.

With one last wave, (Y/N) drove down the street. He turned the volume of the radio up and absentmindedly listened to the random pop songs that played, his eyes focused on the scenery passing him by. The expensive houses, the snobby neighbors, the shimmering water peeking between the trees, the welcoming town between both worlds, the distant horn of the ferry. He'd miss Kildare but it felt good to finally break away from it. 

The repeated honking of a car caught his attention and he rolled his eyes when the Twinkie drove up beside him with JJ halfway out of the passenger window. Whoops, hollers, and the occasional 'we'll miss you' came from the van and JJ playfully blew him a few kisses before being forced back into his seat by John B. The brunette pushed his hand into the horn a few more times before they turned down a different road. 

"Idiots." (Y/N) whispered with a chuckle and pulled into a gas station, parking his car by one of the bumps and stepping out. He stuck his hand in his back pocket for his wallet and tugged it out, moving around his car and looking up in time to notice Sarah jogging across from the store. 

"Liv told me you were gonna stop for gas here." She revealed with a chuckle, brushing back strands of blonde hair she'd recently recolored. Sarah smiled sweetly, glancing at the stuff stored in the back of his jeep. "The others are gonna pick me up in a second. I... I wanted to say bye to you alone. Well- Somewhat alone."

"All of you are acting as if I'm marching off war." (Y/N) snorted. Sarah laughed sheepishly and shrugged lightly, taking a few steps closer before she leaned up to press their lips together. She leaned back and rested her hands on his shoulders, her smile shifting into a sad one. She sighed shakily and chuckled again. 

"Thank you, for everything... I couldn't have asked for a better boyfriend, ex or not. I'll really miss you and just know that- that I'll always have love for you, (Y/N). Remember that, okay? Promise you'll never forget how much I care about you... how much we all care for you." She told him softly, tilting her head up to gaze into his eyes. "Pogues for life?"

"Pogues for life." He echoed softly, combing his fingers through her hair and pressing his hand against her cheek. Sarah leaned into his touch and closed her eyes.

"I'm... I'm glad you're going for your happily ever after, (Y/N). Even if it's not with us. We'll always be here if you ever need us."

[deathmetalunicorn1]

These are both lovely, but I have plans for this piece >:3

-It had been so- so amazing when you walked out of your bedroom, to look up to see a giant, even bigger than your giant friends, elephant, that was walking through the ocean.

-This was Zou, a walking island, as there was a whole city on the back of the elephant, at least that’s what Law told you all.

-Once actually on the elephant, Sanji carried you alongside Nami to the top. There were so many ruins, buildings that looked like they had been abandoned for years now, along with towering trees unlike anything you had ever seen before.

-Once everyone was on the back of the elephant, you started to explore, as you could see smoke, you all could, from what looked to be smoldering remains of something in the distance, like it had been attacked.

-When a sudden downpour flooded a huge portion of the island, which you would later learn was the elephant, giving himself a bath, you had nearly been separated from everyone, after Brook, Chopper, Caesar, and Momo had been swept away, unable to swim.

-Sanji came back and collected you, after he left you on a high tree, while Nami was yelling at the Devil Fruit users who were useless and a pain in the butt.

-You saw a squirrel lady, that Sanji helped save from an unknown group, chasing them off, before she ran, like she was looking for something, or someone.

-When you entered a massive town, you were looking around, seeing all the damage, “What happened here?”

-That’s when a dog lady charged, attacking Nami, telling your group to leave. Your eyes went huge, seeing Nami getting attacked, but you realized that this dog lady, Wanda, had been poisoned by Jack, who was the leader of the group that Tristan was saved from earlier.

-After hearing that Jack and his crew had left, for the moment, Wanda relaxed, sobbing loudly because so many had been hurt by Jack.

-Caesar recognized the symptoms of the poison as something that he had made, which made tears well in your eyes, “Why would you want to hurt others?” which quickly sent him to the ground, feeling like scum, but he helped Chopper with creating a cure as everyone else started rescuing the Minks.

-You had seen a massive doggy and kitty, crucified, both of them with limbs missing, as if they had been tortured and as they were being helped down, so they could be treated, you ran over, ignoring Sanji’s shout, “Y/N don’t! You’re still recovering!”

-He was surprised when you didn’t listen, your horn glowing as your quirk activated as you made it to the two, surprising the Minks as your aura covered the two, healing their missing limbs and helping with their wounds as you were crying quietly.

-Jaws dropped, seeing what you had done as you started crying, which flustered Dogstorm and Cat Viper, who had no idea what just happened as they gave each other a small nod, willing to work together to help calm you down.

-The Minks were in awe of your ability, but after Chopper ran over, checking you out now as well, they learned that your ability could be dangerous for you if you overused it.

-You gave yourself only a minor fever, but you still wanted to help, and you gasped when you saw Nami running over to a group of people, one of them which you remembered, “The polar bear!”

-The other members of the Heart Pirates were surprised to see the Straw Hats, but they were grateful, seeing you all helping the Minks, as the humans were immune to at least this poison.

-As everyone was being healed and treated, everyone moved into the forest, to hide, just in case Jack came back, which many of the Minks were afraid of.

-The Minks adored you, thinking you were adorable, constantly covering you in cuddles in something called Garchu, which you loved because you were in fluffy heaven!

-Sanji and Chopper did their best to help those who were still weak, by treating them and feeding them, which you told them you wanted to help, so Sanji gave you trays which you carefully carried over to the smiling Minks, who thought you were adorable.

-You got to play with the children, helping them gain some source of normality, as they taught you how to kick a ball around, and the Mink Village was soon full of laughter again.

-It wasn’t until someone new came to the island that everything changed.

-His name was Capone Bege, and he was an envoy from Big Mom. You had been hiding behind Brook’s leg, who had knelt beside you, as none of you knew if he was going to be a threat or not.

-When he pulled everyone into his body, that was like a walking fortress, he explained he was here for Sanji, who was to be married to one of Big Mom’s children, and you, as you were going to be the guest of honor at the wedding!

-Bege had started walking, going to snatch you all away and take you all to Big Mom, including the ones she didn’t specifically request, for her to do with whatever she wished.

-Sanji was able to negotiate the release of the others, which Bege agreed to, releasing everyone but him and you, as you were the one that Big Mom wanted more.

-Sanji tried to attack, to get you free, but he was attacked, to stop him. You leapt in front of him, protecting Sanji as you cried, “Stop hurting my big brother!” You saw Bege’s face morph into what looked to be pain, seeing you crying, like he didn’t want to do this, but he had a job to do.

-Bege agreed to get Sanji patched up, and that you would both be safe, if the two of you didn’t try to escape anymore.

-Sanji knew he couldn’t risk your safety at the moment, he wanted to get you free, but he was trapped, even more so when Bege took off on his ship, heading to Whole Cake Island.

-He prayed that Luffy and the others would come soon, not so much for him as he would sacrifice himself to get you to safety, but to rescue you.

-He knew that his family was waiting for him there, how else would Bege have known who his family was if they weren’t there. He wasn’t going to let them get close to you, even if he had to ask Big Mom to make it so.

[popjunkie42]

Blossoming in Winter - Chapter Five || Read on AO3

For the amazing @witchlingsandwyverns - hopefully instead of late it is just the gift that keeps on giving! ❤️ I have had an amazing time writing this for you and getting to know you in the process. I hope that you like it as it was written with love!

Thanks to @witch-and-her-witcher @temperedink and @rosanna-writer for the beta reads and encouragement!

Summary:

“I do not think the Mother would have made us together only to tear us apart so soon after meeting. I do not think we two were sent here to wait at the end of things for nothing.”

Everything is on the line - there is nothing Rhysand wouldn't risk now, nothing he wouldn't lie freely at her feet. After all, what was the point of all that power, if he couldn't save his mate?

Read on AO3 and find a snippet under the cut!

Prince Rhysand had never been good at waiting.

Azriel could perch like a gargoyle on his missions, and even Cassian knew how to dig into a long camp with the soldiers, but Rhysand had always been restless.

A spoiled prince, some might say.

So to wait and do nothing but sit in bed and lurk at the edges of Feyre’s mind was slowly driving him insane.

She wouldn’t speak with him. He found her no more wandering the balconies or climbing to the gardens. The nurses that would speak with him told him she stuck to her room.

He told himself he listened to the hum of her mind, and nothing more, to simply make sure she was all right.

The Son of Night may wander the halls in a cloak of darkness, but Death enveloped Feyre like a heavy shroud. Sometimes he swore he could see it, a pale and misty face over her shoulder.

Feyre’s presence now felt as fluttery as her distant heartbeat. As her future. As his own. For he could no longer look to the days ahead without picturing her in them. All he did now was watch and hold his breath.

And hope.

Rhysand sat upon his bed, wings tied to that infernal brace along the headboard. Hair rumpled and a letter torn to pieces beneath his fingers. Words like amnesty and renewed peace he wanted to mist into fine dust.

Words he couldn’t concentrate on when he thought about Feyre Archeron.

He was young. He was being brash and impulsive. Those words echoed in his mind in his father’s voice. The High Lord would rage.

A strategic and advantageous marriage was one of the few ways he could be of use to his father, as he was often reminded. The words he had thrown at Feyre about the Prince of Spring were well-known to him as well.

Not that his own old male had ever done so himself. Eight hundred years of a cruel and lonely reign, until he had swept his mate away, covered in blood-mist, and decided her future in that final and self-possessive way of his, never asking, never doubting his choices for an instant.

Certainly not worried about politics or alliances or the lives of his own people.

Rhysand was sure it would never even occur to Emrys to consult his son on the matter of his own future and happiness.

The male sighed, shoving against his brooding thoughts, brushing pieces of torn paper to the ground. There was nothing in this room but his dark ruminations, his worry, his hopes and dreams, so wild as to be frightening. Pain when he pulled against his wing’s harness, fear when he pictured Feyre’s pale, papery skin and an empty place beside him on Dawn’s balconies.

His thoughts had raced ahead of him without caution or sanity. A furious and panicked fever dream of a future.

Feyre would live, somehow. He had all this power, all this magic - surely it was meant for something. Meant for this.

And they would take a place in Velaris. He would show her the forests in the steppes and the gardens in the city. They could go to the cabin for a few months, or maybe the countryside outside of Velaris, to allow her to heal. In his dreams she was healing but strong, always in his arms whenever he could help her, a new brightness in her eyes.

He would protect her from his father. He worried she didn’t want to be a princess. But he would teach her, with Mor, and she would be fierce but just. And when he pictured her in a crown, jewels and gems weaving through her braid…no longer a sad and wilting maiden fading from the world, but a Queen, with bravery and stubbornness and ferocity to help reshape their new world.

He hoped his mother would love her. He prayed to the Mother he would have a chance to see them meet.

He wanted to take her flying.

[glowingbadger]

Hi if the requests are still open could I get Hiei and In Heat? Hiei being the one in heat or maybe even both to mix it up.

Also if you wanted extra ideas, they could both have genuine feeling for each other but Hiei is not sure how to deal with his feelings?

If you don't feel inspired with that idea, do whatever you like, your writing is amazing :)

Thank you in advance for doing these requests, I'm looking forward to what combinations others think of

GUYS I finally had the time to fucking WRITE SOMETHING, goddamn. That said, no clue how good this is because I feel like I've been away for so long lmao. But hey, here's hoping I'll have time for more soon.

Hiei (YYH) x GN! Reader

Kink prompts list #54 (In Heat)

NSFW 18+

"It is true that our mutual friend is not an easy one to read, nor to warm to," Kurama had said with a subdued grin, just as you were about to part ways at the train station that afternoon, "But patience bears all sorts of rewards- and besides..." he paused, as though not certain whether he should continue. You looked at him inquisitively, and his smile broadened, "Oh, I was just thinking that I wouldn't be surprised if you saw him perhaps sooner than you'd expected, that's all. Call it a hunch."

Another point for the fox's near prescient intuition- or perhaps he simply had more intel than you did. That very night, you'd wearily closed the door to your bedroom behind you, only to be confronted by scarlet eyes and a hand on the wall pinning you between it and Hiei himself. You say his name in shock, but he hardly seems to hear you. He's... strange. There's a tension wired through his entire body that has his muscles visibly strained. There's something wild in his eyes- something you've seen behind them when the rage inside of him boiled over and his flames couldn't be contained. Sure enough, his body is warm- so warm, radiating, spreading to you as he speaks.

"I'll only say this once, so listen now," he says before you can get a word out, "I need you. It's... agonizing," he grits his teeth for a moment, "I've kept this at bay for long enough. And now, this... this Heat is..."

"Hiei..." you whisper his name as your mind scrambles and trips over itself to make sense of his words. The word "heat" echoes in your thoughts and thrums through your nerves, and you can hardly believe your own senses. Have your unchecked desires manifested in to some sort of lustful hallucination?

But then, Hiei's fingers drag trembling along your cheek and into your hair, and this unsteady contact tells you that, no, this is very real. His touch is fevered and yet tentative, as though exerting every ounce of his focus to be so gentle with you.

"Tell me. Do you... want this..?"

You're still not certain you understand what's happening. It's all so sudden, so unlike him- but if nothing else, you can at least piece together that Hiei desires you, lusts for you, and in the same way those needs have overtaken him, you feel them surging up within you too quickly to be contained.

The moment he sees you give the slightest hint of a nod, he pulls you with unyielding strength towards your bed. And when he kisses you, it feels like you're igniting.

Your fingers drag into his hair, pulling him to you as though you could possibly be any closer. He utters a rasping groan into your mouth, and before you realize what he's doing, he's grabbed a fistful of your shirt and quite literally torn it apart at the front. You might be irritated by this if you weren't so swept up in his relentless pace. Now with access to more soft and vulnerable skin, he harshly kisses and bites his way down your chest, all the while his hands now tug at your thighs, slotting them around his hips until he can rut his cock against your warmth. You catch your breath, your head tilting back on the pillow. For a moment, he fumbles with the button of your jeans, then instead simply snarls out,

"Off."

You rush to obey, your need for him compelling you. So long- fuck, you've wanted this for so long. Had he known all this time that all it would take was a simple command and you would offer yourself to him completely? He must know now; every touch and bite and fevered kiss has you arching your body against him, gasping his name, clawing your nails down his back.

Once you both have wrestled yourselves free of your clothes, he kneels between your parted legs and, to your surprise, halts for a moment. His burning crimson eyes meet yours, his hands grip tight at the outer swell of your thighs, and you can see the red divots left behind in their wake.

"I'm going to make you my mate." he says, and you can see the way his hardened cock twitches at the very thought. An unfamiliar whimper escapes you, but you nod.

"Yes," you whisper, "Hiei, please-"

"That means you're mine, understand?" he leans over you, one hand still firmly at your thigh and the other pinned against the pillow behind you, "Humans have all sorts of ridiculous mating rituals. Ours are simple. I take you, and I keep you. If you're going to regret it, then-"

"I won't," you're not certain what he sees in the direct stare you offer him. Longing, determination, perhaps desperation. Whatever he sees, it seems to satisfy him. His jaw tightens, he shifts towards you, and you feel the tip of his member pressing between your folds. The head catches at your opening, and you gasp as he begins to push into you. You feel yourself stretching around him, squeezing tight as you receive him, but you force your eyes to meet his all the while. With the first couple of inches, his frame tenses. By the time he's half buried in you, his teeth are bared and he's panting softly. Then, he hilts into you to the base, and immediately begins to buck his hips.

"Fuck-!" You gasp aloud, your nails raking down his hard, muscled arms.

"Mine..." you barely hear him mutter amidst panting moans and the sounds of your bodies meeting in blissful, maddening friction, "My mate..."

[allari-ammayi]

Butta Bomma

A. Bahubali x Reader x B. Deva

#1

The Interesting Perspective

Synopsis: In the heart of Hyderabad, Y/n tends to her grandmother's antique store, a time capsule hiding stories of the past. Her routine is disrupted when she joins friends to watch the movie "Baahubali," a decision that is set to have an unremovable stain on her life.

1.7k Words

Prev || All || Next

In the vibrant and bustling streets of Hyderabad, India, nestled amidst the chaos of modernity, there existed a quaint and almost forgotten treasure trove of history. It was a little antique store with an intriguing story of its own, now entrusted to the care of a young woman named Y/n. 

Each morning, the sun cast its gentle rays upon the old wooden door of the shop, signalling the beginning of another day. 

Y/n, with an air of quiet determination, unlocked the weathered door and stepped into a world frozen in time. The antique store, a relic itself, carried the weight of decades, its wooden beams groaning softly with age.

As the door swung open, a cloud of dust danced through the air, catching the soft glow of the morning light. Y/n took a moment to inhale the musty scent of history and nostalgia before she proceeded with her daily ritual.

Y/n's routine was as predictable as the sunrise. She gingerly dusted off the display cabinets, each one containing a piece of history that had been carefully preserved for generations.

Once the store was tidied up, Y/n took her place at the ornate wooden register. It was a perch from which she watched the world go by, albeit one that rarely saw any visitors. 

The store, hidden away in plain sight amidst the chaotic streets of Hyderabad, seemed to exist in its own tranquil bubble. Despite the city's ceaseless movement and vibrant energy, it was as if the shop was invisible to the outside world.

With the day's quietude embracing her, Y/n reached for a vintage novel, a companion she had grown fond of. The pages rustled softly as she lost herself in tales of bygone eras, immersing herself in the words on the pages. 

The store was once her grandmother's, and before that, her great-grandmother's, and before that her great-geart-grandmother's. No-one knew exactly how old it was, but it was a family relic that was passed down to Y/n.

Y/n had always been more inclined toward the pages of modern literature than the silver screen. In a world captivated by the magic of movies, she found her sanctuary in the written word. 

But as fate would have it, a new cinematic sensation swept across India, leaving a trail of fervour in its wake, bearing the name 'Bahubali.' 

It was as if a fever had taken hold of the nation, and fans had gone berserk over this cinematic marvel. People had lost their minds, raving about the epic storytelling and jaw-dropping visuals that this movie promised.

Y/n, ever the outlier in her circle, hadn't quite fathomed the craze.

Her friends, captivated by the Baahubali frenzy, hadn't understood how she remained immune to its charm.

They had pestered her relentlessly, urging her to give it a chance. Perhaps, they had thought, Y/n might just find a new love in the world of cinema.

“Come on, Y/n!!” 

“It’s really good!! We’ve already been to the movies three times this month purely because it was so good!”

“And we’ve had two movie nights where we watched the first and second movies together!”

Y/n grimaced, unsure of what to say.

“I don’t know, guys…”

“Ohh, please, Y/n!” They continued to persist, wearing down the girl.

“If it’s not as good as we promise, I swear on my life I’ll start reading that one book you told me to!” Y/n’s ears perked up at this comment as the others quickly joined in.

“In fact -  we all will!” The three girls looked at each other and began nodding in unison and urging Y/n. 

“Mmm…” Y/n’s face remained in deep thought.

“Y/n, if you come to watch the two movies with us, we all promise to immediately start reading the books.” One of the girls spoke up, finally, desperate to get her friend in front of the silver screen. Y/n craned her head to look past her friends at the deserted and empty shop. 

Y/n’s features softened and she looked at their eager faces. She let out a low sigh and looked at her friends, a smile starting to form on her lips.

“I guess it couldn’t hurt to leave the store unattended for one night,”

Finally, Y/n had relented, agreeing to accompany her friends to the movie theatre. She had been willing to set aside her literary pursuits for an evening if only to unravel the mystery of what had driven the entire nation into a state of euphoria.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As the lights had dimmed and the colossal screen had flickered to life, Y/n's curiosity had mingled with a hint of scepticism. The opening scene had unfolded, and the grandeur of Bahubali had begun to unfurl before her eyes. 

She had watched in awe as the story had unfurled, the characters had come to life, and the visual spectacle had swept her into its embrace.

As the credits rolled and the applause of the audience resonated around her, Y/n understood why the nation had succumbed to Baahubali‘s enchantment.

Leaving the theatre, Y/n wore a smile that mirrored the newfound appreciation for the magic of movies. She might have been a devotee of modern literature, but in that moment, she had experienced the transformative enchantment of cinema. 

Y/n held a unique perspective on the characters.

Y/n possessed a deep respect for Bahubali, his qualities of honour, bravery, and selflessness impressed her. Bahubali had been a shining example of the qualities Y/n had admired most in people.

Even when it came to the character of Bhallaladeva, who had been universally despised by viewers, Y/n had found herself harbouring a different sentiment. Instead of hatred, she hadn't been able to help but pity him. 

Beneath the layers of villainy and treachery, she had glimpsed a tragic figure, consumed by ambition and insecurity, his actions driven by a thirst for approval.

While the general populace had harboured hatred and disgust for Bhallaladeva, she possessed a unique and empathetic viewpoint. Y/n had peered beneath the layers of cruelty and ambition, recognizing the tragic figure that Bhallaladeva had truly been.

In her eyes, Bhallaladeva hadn't been just a villain; he had been a product of his environment, a victim of his father's ruthless influence.

Y/n believed that if he had grown up in a different setting, devoid of the poisonous presence of his father, he could have evolved into a different, more compassionate person. 

“I can’t believe you feel sorry for Bhallaladeva, Y/n! He’s the ultimate villain!” Gowri, Y/n’s closest friend, argued as she sat across Y/n in the little coffee shop, as Y/n took a sip of her drink and continued looking down at the newspaper.

“Gowri, I know it’s hard to see, but there’s more to his character than just being a villain,” Y/n said, taking another sip, and making Gowri groan, her hazel locks swaying with her dramatic disdain.

“More to him? He’s a murderer, Y/n! He killed his own brother and lusted for his brother's wife, how can you pity someone like him!?” Gowri's grey eyes were full with a sense of determination to prove Bhallaladeva to be a vilian.

“Everyone’s a murderer in this movie, Gowri. Besides, I’m not condoning his actions, but just think about it. He grew up in a toxic environment with a father like Bijjaladeva. The constant pressure, the endless manipulation, the unhealthy influence…” Y/n shuddered, just thinking about what Bhalla likely grew up with.

“That’s no excuse for his treachery. He betrayed his family and his kingdom, he’s disgusting!” Gowri spat. Y/n sighed, finally placing her mug down on the table and laying her paper flat, looking up at Gowri.

"I get that, but I can't help but wonder if, under different circumstances... He might have turned out differently," Y/n said, softly, in a comforting voice. Gowri gaped at her, her mouth open and eyes wide.

"Are you serious? He's power-hungry and ruthless. He deserved the fate that came to him."

"It's just that the complexity of his character intrigues me. What if he felt trapped, burdened by the expectations placed upon him?" Y/n said thoughtfully, “What if he was feeling betrayed by his own mother? That everything that belonged to him was being shared with his cousin? Even that thought wouldn’t be his fault, it would be his father’s.”

"Y/n, he had a choice! He chose evil, plain and simple." Gowri said with a huff, crossing her arms.

"I'm not saying he didn't make terrible choices. It's just that I can't help but feel a sense of pity for someone who may have been a victim of his own circumstances." Y/n’s tone remained gentle.

"I can't believe you're defending him, Y/n," Gowri said in disbelief, shaking her head.

"I'm not defending him, Gowri. I'm just trying to understand. Stories like Baahubali make us question the complexities of human nature and the choices people make." Y/n said, calmly.

“Well, I still think he’s the worst.” Gowri childishly puffed out her cheeks and looked out of the window as Y/n lightly chuckled, shaking her head.

"And that's the beauty of storytelling. It sparks conversations and lets us see things from different angles." Y/n said with a clever smile, eyeing Gowri as she took another short sip of her drink.

Rather than hating Bhallaladeva, Bijjaladeva, the conniving and power-hungry uncle, had been the object of her disdain. Y/n had loathed him for his nefarious influence over his son, Bhallaladeva. 

The sick thoughts and twisted desires he had sown in Bhallaladeva’s mind for his own greed had been inexcusable.

Y/n's fascination didn't stop at the cinema. She had felt compelled to dive deeper into their psyche, to unravel the intricacies of Bhallaladeva and Bahubali’s dynamic, lives, and the forces that had shaped them.

This curiosity led Y/n to embark on a literary journey of her own. She had poured her thoughts, insights, and emotions into a twenty-thousand-word analytical essay, meticulously dissecting the characters and their intertwining destinies. 

Her essay had become a labour of love.

'If I were ever magically given the chance to change the fate of Bhallaladeva and assist him to tread a path of light and goodness, I would value the opportunity and do my best to secure him a good future.'

Little had she known that her writings would soon become more than just words on a page, as destiny had had a mysterious plan in store.

♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡

Taglist: @vellipo-mellaga, @mellaga-karagani, @vayari-bhama, @bitchy-bi-trash (To join the taglist, let me know in the comments, and you will be added to future ones!)

[sickonthedancefloor]

Boy in Syncope

Sickie: Hoseok Caretaker:  Namjoon (primarily) Content: fainting, fever, hospitals.

Hoseok faints during the filming of Boy in Luv.

"Was it because of overworking or did you catch a cold? Or did you just want to rest?" - Mnet interview, February 2014

This was just sitting in the drafts, and I found it while searching for a different one. Happy Holidays, everyone!

The boys had been buzzing with excitement since they woke up that morning in the dorm. Hoseok had, unsurprisingly, woken up second only to Seokjin, and the two happily shared a moment over tea as they waited for their manager to bring them breakfast. It was going to be another long day of filming, but they had been rehearsing nonstop for the past few weeks. Hoseok felt good about practice; they were going to do great.

After helping wake up the rest of the boys, they crammed into the bathroom in groups as they rushed to brush their teeth and wash faces and change. The typical days in the Bangtan household when they were grabbing things for a shoot were just consistent noise and jokes, barely even silent when they shoved food in their faces.

"You sure you're not going to finish your rice, Hoseok-hyung?" Jungkook asked as his hand gently wrapped around the small bowl.

"Aish, you food thief! Just take it." Hoseok made a stabbing motion with his chopsticks, slow enough that Jungkook managed to pull his hand and the rice bowl away before the utensils hit the table below. Carbs weren't bad, but they made Hoseok feel heavy on their mass dancing days. He just shoved a piece of pork belly into his mouth and chewed quickly before washing it down with soup.

"Twenty minutes then we've gotta head out!" Sejin called to them from his seat in the entrance way. "Make sure you all eat something!"

He honestly didn't have to tell them twice. Shouting of missing socks and passing shoes, grabbing any last-minute needed items, a missing pair of headphones, water, and Sejin had the gang out right on time. Everything seemed to become a whirlwind from there. They had their choreographer there for any last minute reminders, but Hoseok was also there to make sure everyone remembered. The setting of Boy In Luv's music video had been a school, with most of the dancing taking place in the classroom. The company had rented a school set for the first day of filming, and they were nothing but laughs. Honestly, filming wasn’t as tough, they were extremely prepared. For their first major comeback, they had gone all out with preparations. Long nights of practicing and rehearsals and finetuning, but it would be worth it.

Hours had passed before they knew it. Downtime for set-changes and makeup touchups had been spent playing around for the cameras or checking the footage. Hoseok had been bouncing between goofing with Taehyung and Jungkook, and talking with the choreographer and the camera staff. For some reason, things felt almost… airy.

“Hoseok-ah?” one of the makeup noonas called to him.

He’d been staring at the monitor as the choreographer checked the captured footage again, and although he was also examining it… did he almost space out? The young woman brought him back to earth, and the ground almost felt shaky as he turned to face her. She took a sheet of oil blotting paper out and pressed it against his forehead.

“You’re sweating a little, let me touch you up real fast before next take.”

He found himself smiling, closing his eyes a little as she gently pressed powder on his forehead. The noonas were nice, Hoseok liked their staff. He waited as she swept a brush over his nose and checked his cheeks, blotting out a few oily spots with rice paper. Hoseok always got sweaty if they rehearsed too hard or if it was too warm, but he was actually a little chilled in the room. When she finished, she smiled up at him. “All done.”

The director on set at that moment called out to them, one more take from the middle chorus. The footage looked good, but the producing staff wanted a different angle. Which meant one more time. The team moved back to the front of the classroom and arranged themselves, and Hoseok suddenly felt his footing leave him. He bumped right into Jimin, and both boys laughed it off.

“Okay, ready?” They nodded.

“Dul, set!”

~~~

Namjoon wasn't exactly sure what happened. One moment, they'd been dancing while the camera followed them, and the next, the staff was stopping them due to a syncing error. Hoseok had stepped out of place, which was already bizarre given their dance captain was a stickler for details. Nerves, Namjoon had been willing to dismiss it--but as he'd turned his head, he caught sight of Hoseok’s eyes rolling to the back of his skull, and the dancer crumpled almost immediately. His body hit the ground hard.

"Hoseok-ah!"

"Hoseok-hyung!"

"Seok-hyung!"

Son Sung Deuk, their choreographer, was quick to move to their aid, pushing Hoseok onto his back. "Don't crowd him."

Namjoon just stared at his fellow 94-liner, whose face had gone white as a sheet, and he felt terrified. Namjoon and Hoseok had been through a lot together as friends. They were some of BigHit's earliest trainees, and they were two of the first three in the group. They had been roommates and friends for nearly five years now, and they'd already seen each other's good and bad sides. They’d been there for each other’s first worst drunken nights, overworked injuries, seasonal illnesses… But one side Namjoon had never seen was a nearly-lifeless Hoseok looking so ashen. Hoseok had often overworked himself dancing, but not to the brink of collapse, not like this... He wasn't sure what he could do, if there was anything he could.

Faintly, Namjoon could feel a small hand grip onto his arm, and he looked down to realize it was Jimin, whose eyes were wet and worried. Namjoon automatically wrapped an arm around the younger one's shoulders and held him close, a gesture of comfort, but he had to honestly wonder if this was to comfort himself as well.

Sung Deuk felt for Hoseok's pulse, then placed a hand on his forehead to check for a fever. Hoseok, albeit unconscious, was breathing a little too hard for their liking, almost struggling with the strain of trying to keep air going, and the older man began to fan Hoseok with his hand. One of the makeup noonas rushed over with an electric fan and took over trying to cool him down.

"Hoseok-ah, wake up! Come on, kid!" His hand shook Hoseok's shoulder gently, then pat his cheek.

The boys held their breath, waiting for a response. Another staffer hurried over, bringing with her an ice pack which she pressed against his neck. A third behind them, Namjoon noticed, had an AED kit--just in case, it seemed. Namjoon’s blood ran cold—if they needed a defibrillator…

At first touch of the cold pack, Hoseok's head lulled to the side from Sung Deuk's motions, but soon he grimaced, a hand slowly moving to his head. He opened his eyes, but quickly shut them at the light.

"Hobi-hyung!" Jimin and Jungkook both squeaked out.

"Nn... what happened?" Hoseok mumbled, voice slurred in confusion. " 'm not... the dorms."

They all sighed in relief. There was some realization there, that was a good sign. Sung Deuk smiled, patting his hair carefully. "You fainted, kid. Just take a deep breath for me, we're gonna get you some help."

Hoseok frowned, his lips forming the so familiar pouting siot letter even while disoriented and confused. Although his eyes were closed, Namjoon could tell he seemed ready to cry. "It's okay, Hope-ah," he tried to encourage. His voice was trembling. He swallowed it back, for his friend’s sake. "They're gonna take care of you."

"Joon-ah...?" Hoseok asked softly. His hand in his hair balled into a loose fist, and Sung Deuk gently peeled his fingers back and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze in his own.

"Yeah. I'm here, we're all here," Namjoon answered him. Reaching a hand over he smoothed back Hoseok’s hair. His hand stroked his cheek gently, and his older friend seemed to melt under the touch. His face began to relax, turning his cheek towards the touch. It seemed to be soothing, and he was glad that even though he wasn’t sure what caused the sudden ailment, at least it was easing his pain.

The staffer with the ice pack just moved it around as she spoke with Sung Deuk in hushed tones, and the two decided to move him from the floor. “Hoseok-ah,” Sung Deuk called softly, “let’s try to sit up, okay? Joon-ah.”

Namjoon nodded, shifting a little closer. As Sung Deuk pulled Hoseok’s arm, Namjoon moved behind him to help hold him up—and Hoseok’s eyes rolled in the back of his skull again. His body felt almost too heavy as he immediately fell back on Namjoon, and for a moment Sung Deuk watched him carefully. Namjoon was absolutely horrified, holding Hoseok in his arms as if he’d break if he let go.

“What happened?” he could hear Jin asking behind them.

“I think his blood pressure dropped.” Sung Deuk sighed as the realization hit him. He’d seen this in some performers before, especially some of the hardest working trainees. “He probably overdid it and didn’t realize… We’re going to take him to the hospital.”

As Sejin hurried over, Sung Deuk reached to pull Hoseok from Namjoon, but the tall rapper was too concerned to let his buddy go. Their choreographer had to smile, and he reached a hand for Namjoon’s shoulder. “Let us carry him to the car, okay?”

Hoseok stirred at that moment, head falling to Namjoon’s shoulder. With that, Namjoon sighed, nodding. He uncurled his hands and, with Jin’s help, the three of them got Hoseok onto Sejin’s back. Sejin quickly walked with him out of the classroom, the other boys hurrying after him. It was only once they made it to the van did they turn to the group for a headcount. Teary eyes, worried faces…

“Only one of you. He’s going to be just fine, but I don’t need all six of you worrying in the waiting room,” Sejin said to the group.

It was unanimous, and with a gentle shove from Jimin who’d been clinging to his sleeve, Namjoon stepped forward. “I’ll go,” declared their leader.

With a nod, Sejin wasted no time in turning back to help Hoseok into the car. He’d come to once more, and despite being a little disoriented, was coordinated enough to climb into the van and sit on his own. Sejin moved to the front to the driver’s seat and Namjoon crawled in on the other side, but it was then that the Hoseok could see the worried faces of his band members. He seemed confused, but despite the grimace that seemed to take residence on his face, he put on a bright smile for the boys.

“I’m okay, it’s okay,” he told them softly.

“H-hyung,” Jungkook squeaked, before more tears began to fall from his cheeks. Jin pulled him close to his chest. Before they could get too emotional, Sung Deuk buckled Hoseok in and pat his shoulder. “See you soon.”

“Ah… yeah.” Hoseok gave him a shaky thumbs up. And with that, Sung Deuk closed the car door. From there, they decided to call a break for the rest of them. Missing two of them, there wasn’t much else they could do, and the boys they knew would be too worried for their fallen comrade to focus, so their filming staff didn’t make them. With their choreographer leading them back into the classroom area, they went for snacks and drinks, and the staff made sure to check on each of the boys to make sure they were physically feeling okay and staying hydrated. They couldn’t have another one falling apart on them.

~~~

The hospital had gotten to Hoseok quickly. Hoseok managed to stand on his own alright when the driver pulled the car to the front, but he looked pale and weak as Namjoon held his arm. They opted to set him in a wheelchair to lead him in, concerned about his double fainting spells, and the nurse led them to a private room in the back. A brief checking of his vitals showed no illness, but definite signs of overexertion. Preliminary scans showed no concussion, but he was dehydrated enough that the staff had attached him to an IV almost immediately.

Only a few minutes into the bag and color already began to return to Hoseok’s face. Namjoon breathed a sigh of relief as he looked at Hoseok and noticed his friend’s demeanor already perking up a little from the cot he lay on. He still looked tired, but not as pallid, and definitely seemed more aware of everything going on in the hospital. With a sigh of relief, once the doctor left, Namjoon just smacked his arm.

“Don’t scare us like that anymore, Seok-ah!”

Hoseok grinned, looking exhausted but still amused. “I didn’t mean it… I’m sorry, I ruined the shoot.”

“You didn’t ruin the shoot. Sejin-nim said we can always go back.”

Sejin, sitting in the corner, nodded as he typed away on his phone. “We can have the studio for another day. If you’re feeling better tomorrow, Hoseok-ssi, we can try again tomorrow.”

With that, Hoseok’s smile fell and he shook his head. “No, let’s try tonight. I’ll be okay.”

Sejin and Namjoon both frowned at that.

“No way, Seok-ah.”

“Yes way, Joon-ah.”

Both of them frowned at one another, until someone cleared their throat from the doorway. At the sight of the doctor, Namjoon bowed slightly and stepped back. “Doctor, he’s going to need to rest for the day after this, won’t he?”

“I’m feeling better,” Hoseok answered instead.

The doctor chuckled as he walked over. “I know you’re eager to get back, Hoseok-ssi, but we just need to make sure this won’t happen a second time.” He moved over to check Hoseok’s vitals again, pleased to know he didn’t develop a fever. He already ran warmer than normal, but his temperature hovered right at 99F. His pulse seemed back to normal too, which had him smiling. Hoseok watched the check, eyes more aware. “Well… You are stable as he is right now. What I want to do is at least get your blood sugar up, see if that will help as well.” With that, he reached into the pocket of his white coat and handed Hoseok a package of salted crackers and a granola bar. “Eat these.”

Hoseok looked at the snacks and grinned. “Thank you, Doctor!”

The doctor pat his shoulder and left the room, and Namjoon sighed, reaching over to open the cracker pack. “So you just needed water and snacks? Jeez, Hoseok-ah, next time eat the rice at breakfast!”

Laughing, Hoseok shoved Namjoon’s hand back and bit into the granola bar. Not deterred, Namjoon opened the pack anyway and stole a cracker. Hoseok just snacked lazily as Namjoon pulled out his phone and called Yoongi’s cell, amused when it was quickly on speakerphone. After reassuring them that everything was fine, they merely chatted for a few extra minutes as background noise, about their game plan. They still had to wait for the doctor’s clearance for Hoseok to leave, but they couldn’t make any rash decisions yet. The boys knew that. They were just relieved to hear Hoseok awake, laughing along with another terrible joke from Jin.

The doctor returned half an hour later, and after confirming Hoseok’s vitals were still looking good, he gave them the clearance to leave. He heavily recommended they take him home to get some rest and a proper meal later, and orders to return if systems persisted. But they were free to go.

“Guess it was just a fluke,” Namjoon said, ruffling his friend’s hair.

Hoseok swatted his hand away, but looked at Sejin the moment the doctor left the room. Sejin grabbed Hoseok’s uniform jacket and turned to look at him, but the young dancer reached up for it. “We were almost done with filming, right?”

Sejin nodded. “Just the last rose scene with the actress, and the second set before tomorrow’s film change.”

Looking up at him, Hoseok nodded. “Can we go back?”

That had the manager pausing, staring as if he didn’t hear the young man before him. But given Hoseok’s determined look… despite overworking himself to the brink, Hoseok was still ready to give it his all.

Namjoon and Sejin exchanged glances. And Namjoon turned back to his friend. “Hobi—”

“No, let’s go back,” Hoseok interrupted him. “I’m okay, I can finish the dance.”

“But Hobi, you just—”

“And I feel better now. I don’t want to set us farther back.”

Sejin sighed. “It won’t set us back. We can just book the set again; we have time through editing.”

But Namjoon could see the determination in Hoseok’s eyes. When his friend became this driven, it was very hard to say no to him. Namjoon just slumped in the chair, closing his eyes. “Take a nap, Hob-ah. If you’re still doing okay when we get there, we’ll see what Sung Deuk-nim says when we get there.”

That was as close to ‘yes’ as possible. Hoseok grinned and just leaned against Namjoon, eyes closing as he felt Namjoon’s arm drape over his shoulders. Despite his best attempt, he did doze right on his leader’s shoulders. Namjoon waited until he heard Hoseok’s little sleeping sniffle before he opened his eyes, making brief contact with Sejin from the front seat.

“He’s not going to take no for an answer even when we get back, is he,” Sejin sighed.

Namjoon nodded. “He barely listens to me on a good day about rest. But if we work through the evening…”

“I’m sure we can clear your schedules for tomorrow.” Sejin smiled, immediately opening a text message. Namjoon smiled; Sejin kept his promises, he’d make it work out.

~~~

“Pleeeease?” Hoseok begged. He was a lot more chipper when they arrived, apparently feeling loads better after the car’s power nap. The commute wasn’t a far distance, but the traffic getting back in midday Seoul rush-hour took nearly an hour. It was enough time for Hoseok and Namjoon to both catch power naps, but while Namjoon still seemed to be waking himself up, Hoseok was bright-eyed and energetic. Perhaps some of it was an act, anything to convince their choreographer to continue, perhaps it was just to convince himself.

Their choreographer sighed, giving him another once-over. He’d already briefed the others that their dance leader wanted to continue and had pushed them back to the stylists for refreshing their makeup to play it safe. They only had a few scenes left, having finished with their female co-star before Hoseok’s earlier collapse. It would be intense, primarily dancing, but Hoseok’s determination shown too brightly to be ignored.

And he was a softie. He caved immediately.

“Go revisit the stylist-noonas. Joon, you too, your hair’s flattening. We’ll resume in 30 minutes.”

Hoseok cheered aloud. His enthusiasm was infectious, the three maknae joining in on his cheers as he nearly skipped over to the stylist’s room. Jin just looked to Namjoon, who had paused to shrug off his hoodie.

“Are you sure he’s okay?” Jin asked.

“Of course not,” Namjoon grunted back. He just sighed heavily. “But he’s not going to listen to me. We’re just going to have to watch out for him. The doctor said he was okay to leave, so Hob-ah says it was just a fluke.” The two shared worried glances with Yoongi, who’d come over after fixing his shoes.

Yoongi just shook his head. As their second eldest and a great reader of people, they both silently asked for his input. Yoongi thought on it for a moment, then shrugged. “You said Sejin-nim’s clearing our schedule tomorrow, right? It’s worth letting Hobi tire himself out with a job well done. He’ll be stressed out if we don’t let him try, and then we’ll all have to wake up early tomorrow.”

That was true… they’d probably have to continue early, which wouldn’t help any of them. It wasn’t like they had healthy rest schedules, being a rookie group anyway, but if they were getting a clear schedule over pushing through one evening, it was worth trying.

They heard loud laughter coming from the stylist room, and could immediately tell it was Hoseok’s.

“That does it, then.” Jin sighed, pushing Namjoon’s shoulder. “Go on and get your curly chicken feather fixed.”

“It doesn’t look like a chicken feather, hyung!” Namjoon complained, but he hurried over to get his hair fixed as Jin gathered the maknae back over. They were in for a long evening.

~~~

It wasn’t as long as they’d thought, surprisingly enough. The seven boys gathered around the monitor behind their choreographer while he replayed their last clip of footage. It was clean, insanely clean. Their best take yet! And with that, the cinematographer clapped his hands and dismissed them for the day. With a loud cheer, the group bowed to the staff before they were lined up to film the end of the shooting sketch. Excited to be done, Yoongi went for the camera first, hamming it up with Taehyung. Namjoon glanced over at Hoseok, who looked tired but proud, glad they’d finally finished the filming and wouldn’t need to push anything further. With one final cocky phrase to the camera, Hoseok did his best to look smug, but he hurried off as dots began to swim in his vision again. As the camerawoman moved to film Jungkook and Jimin next, Hoseok found the closest seat and dropped down, sighing.

Namjoon and Yoongi just fanned him with their hands. With a thumbs up from Sejin, Namjoon reached over to ruffle his friend’s hair.

“Come on, Seok-ah, let’s go home.”

And the relieved but bright smile on Hoseok’s face was the best thing the other two rappers had seen all day. Tomorrow was a well-deserved day off.

[benjaminalphabet]

tonight you and me finally find ourselves back in the good graces of the stars.

under full moon, rainfall, i give no confessionals.

it's a blessing, i feel no pull to reach for it -

i do feel some sort of absence when you leave,

but it isn't yours or mine.

this is something like peace.

momentary divinity,

and this is not what i thought it would be.

i realize, almost without noticing, that i cannot lie to you.

i don't want play a fool, nor pull any pretty veil over your closed eyes.

i have never been able to pretend to be anything i am not. even when i have tried;

painted myself purple and red; like a bruise's sweet colors, played less innocent than i am,

played doves, played villain, played hard to get, played cards and uglier games across others' wooden tables.

i am no fever dream.

i am no glittering highway driver, i fell out of an exhilarated and brief echoing of danger with my life in my hands.

i took off in the night, trying not to lose any more pieces of myself while i flew.

i am the runaway.

i am the ship lost at sea but i am not the water that engulfs or consumes.

could you love a chasm,

or the rushing white water at its bottom?

of course not,

i am a place you could never swim nor float gently. you would be swept away in my current;

and why would we even try?

i am a suicide mission.

i shatter glass, i am both the hammer and the hand holding it.

stare at these cathedrals inside of me and tell me if you can find any place to worship.

now that i realize what a sacred thing it is to be fragile yet intact,

you've become something i don't dare reach out to, i cannot hold you close enough to keep, nor tight enough to break.

i must be gentle now, although it is not in my nature.

i long so deeply to be beautiful.

i would trade this resilience for ease without thought.

i would give up all i've learned, be naive and trusting, stumbling over my own feet,

if it meant i could be soft again.

there is an ache inside of me to hold some kind of celestial eloquence in my hands

and make it seem easy.

stars burn hot and dense,

liquid time, infectious gas -

i was never able to breathe standing on the sun

but i did try.

i did try.

like Icarus i have a pair of scorched and melted wings that will not heal.

i will never get that close to warmth again, i will never fly again.

i have never been the accidental type.

i have never been clumsy enough to trip and fall into love, or hit my head against devotion on the way down.

i have never been that effortless.

you are something like the petaled creature i thought i was, i am more like the ominous yet well meaning ravens that fly overhead in this storm.

you are no monster, and i am not sweet enough.

compare me to a cavern,

crystalized, sparkling, sharp,

one wrong step and i could collapse.

danger! danger! do not enter!

compare me to a labyrinth,

dark, claustrophobic, twisted,

you may never find your way out of here.

i have seen deeper, murkier depths,

held my breath and pushed toward the bottom.

that is where i found the peace within silence, at the very depths of Mariannas Trench.

i have ugly ghosts to admit to,

and i have loved ugly men,

i am the succubus apologist,

i lived between dusty red asbury walls,

and i loved it there.

i'll tell you all about it someday;

when the pain is just stories, and the places i've been don't still ache and howl inside of me like the aurora borealis.

there is some cruel and dying truth that still sits in my stomach,

there is some pathetic and still-bargaining part of my soul that is reaching for something i have lost.

i keep myself like a deadly secret,

tuck these memories into bed like a child,

and let the true weight of them slip to no one.

so, like a wildfire i spread out,

i burn out in some places, engulf and thrive in others.

the deader the wood, the more damage i can do.

catch me if you can,

but what will you find when you do?

do you think you could stomach the parts of me that roll around in their shame,

like pigs in the mud?

can you love me as you would a wild dog,

too fast, constantly chasing some phantom moonlit dream? rabid, vicious, unpredictable?

would you shout the profanities necessary to make me leave,

fool me for both our sake?

could you love me as something that has never been loved before,

a wounded animal in a cage,

something that might lash at you at any moment?

i am as equally unreal behind glass as i am on a leash, i am as equally trustworthy with your head in my jaws as i am with my stomach exposed.

can you ask for me without sudden movements?

without grand gestures,

declarations, reservations?

can you do it all with the understanding that,

although i was once,

i might not be fully human?

i have this infinite galactic gap inside me.

lately i am navy like outer space, a vacuum.

it is not quite nothingness,

it is not quite darkness.

it is the absence of even that.

it's clear that me and god haven't finished our conversations yet.

we have not come to an understanding;

and so i cannot reckon with you,

with anyone,

or any of the sweet helpless things i used to think i wanted.

i hold this feeling close to me, and the wall of this dam has become a sacred and holy ground to me.

once it breaks i will drown.

so, i have learned that there is merit in solidity, even if the sacrifice is a reserve to solitude.

i play my glistening part, i'm melodic and melancholy and so much fun! and no one ever has to know

how restless waters have shaken me.

i must be careful with my damaged bow, my torn and tattered sail,

my hands and body are not what they once were.

ask me after many days have passed,

once the flood is over and i've relearned how to walk,

after you've watched me take my first shaky steps towards trust -

will you tell me if it was worth it then?

for now i'm not sure.

my brokenness calls me back to the alter,

to worship.

i am praying again,

my knees bloody and raw again,

my knuckles chapped and red, folded hands in a desperate need.

i am begging for mercy again,

and in this water i have no raft, no driftwood,

i must swim,

i need all my limbs, all my strength,

and i would love to save you too;

i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry

i cannot sacrifice myself again.

7.21.24 || untitled, unimportant.

some horrible ugly confessional

[wafflesandkruge]

two gods before there was a world

“It is an abomination. Merzost,” Elizaveta snarled. The buzzing rose to a fever pitch. “You are playing with laws you do not understand.”

“And who wrote those laws?” Aleksander asked, voice quiet. He was tired of being told what he could or couldn’t do. His own limits were the only thing that stood between him and his goals, and he had yet to reach them. He would never reach them. “You are obeying a master whose face you have never seen. Are you content with that, Sankta?”

Or, Elizaveta pays Aleksander a visit after Novokribirsk.

ao3

a/n: helloooooo!!!! very excited to finally post my first piece for @grishaversebigbang!! this lil fic is based off the showstopping amazing totally unique art by @kavinskysdick​ whom i adore with my whole heart hehe. please go check our their art and stare at it until your eyes blur. hope yall enjoy! and stay tuned for another zoya fic coming soon as part of a second collaboration.

The Saints were always watching. It was a truism drilled into Ravkans from infancy, a boogeyman meant to make them behave lest they displease the Saints and incur their wrath. As far as Aleksander was concerned, it was utter horseshit. Saints didn’t care if you washed your hands before eating or returned a lost wallet. Hell, they didn’t even care if you murdered your neighbor and burned his house down to the foundations. 

The only thing they’d ever cared for was power.

And of that, Aleksander had plenty.

He swept into the darkened war room, eerily quiet this time of night. And though gas lamps and candles were clustered around the room, he didn’t need to light them to identify the shadowy figure positioned at the head of the massive oak table. His lips curved into a cold smile.

“What a pleasant surprise.”

In the pale moonlight, Elizaveta was the very picture of the saints that graced the walls of chapels. Eyes as green as a summer field regarded him coolly, the color all the more striking against her alabaster skin. Her honey-colored hair, woven through with flowers that bloomed with one breath and wilted with the next, gleamed like molten gold. Flowering vines crept across her body in the facsimile of a gown. As always, the low buzz of bees accompanied her presence.

Elizaveta didn’t bother with any false pleasantries. Her voice was low, raspy, as if she hadn’t spoken in decades. “It has been quite a time since we last met, Morozova.”

“Has it? I hadn’t noticed.” Aleksander remained standing at the end of the table, his arms clasped behind his back. It was nothing more than strategic posturing, a reminder of who was in power. The Little Palace was his. The Second Army was his. And with time, something he had no shortage of, Ravka would be his as well.

Judging from the darkening of Elizaveta’s complexion, she understood his intentions. But instead of rising to her feet to mirror him, she merely steepled her fingers and narrowed her eyes. The buzzing of her bees grew louder until it seemed to ricochet off the stone walls. 

“Enough, boy. I am here so you can explain yourself. Talk.”

Aleksander bristled at the command in her voice. Under his feet, the shadows writhed like a living creature struggling to free itself. Casually, he unclasped his hands and allowed them to come to a rest at his sides. “I wasn’t aware I had something to explain,” he said with as much insolence as he could manage.

Something he had learned over the years was that Elizaveta was slow to anger. Whether it was a learned patience that came with the centuries or a deliberate tactic to mislead others, Aleksander still wasn’t sure. But now, her eyes simmered with a thinly-veiled rage. How fascinating. Even the Saints had their limits, he supposed, and he couldn’t help wanting to push her just a bit further.

“The Fold,” Elizaveta hissed. Her nails dug into the backs of her hands. “It grew.”

The scars on his face suddenly ached, the memory of hours under a Healer’s hand coming back to haunt him. Aleksander tilted his head to the side and let the shadows hide the damage, but he knew Elizaveta had already seen what had happened to him. What she had done to him. 

“So it did. You should be thanking me, seeing as I’ve expanded your domain.”

“It is an abomination. Merzost,” Elizaveta snarled. The buzzing rose to a fever pitch. “You are playing with laws you do not understand.”

“And who wrote those laws?” Aleksander asked, voice quiet. He was tired of being told what he could or couldn’t do. His own limits were the only thing that stood between him and his goals, and he had yet to reach them. He would never reach them. “You are obeying a master whose face you have never seen. Are you content with that, Sankta?”

Elizaveta was silent for a moment, his words heavy between them. Then, in the end, as it often did, her pride won out. Her eyes flashed. “You are a fool, Morozova. You, your army, that girl–”

“Do you know what the people call her?” he interrupted. “Sol Koroleva. Sankta Alina.”

Something in his blood whispered at the mention of her name, like calling to like. She would be by his side again soon enough. 

Elizaveta apparently felt no such kinship with her. Her lips curled into a sneer. 

“She is no Saint. And neither are you, boy, as grand as your desires may be.”

Aleksander spread his arms wide, shadows twisting around his fingers like snakes. The room darkened until it was just the two of them alone in the black, two gods before there was a world. When he spoke, he made his words deadly soft. A challenge. “The Saints are just Grisha are they not? They call me a Saint? Fine, I’ll be their Saint. It’s as simple as that.”

“‘Sankt’ is not a title you can bestow upon yourself, Aleksander.” She rose to her feet and began walking around the table toward him. With each step, the marble floor cracked and split, flowers bursting forth until his war room began to resemble a garden. His lips quirked at that. That would be a bother to fix in the morning. She came to a stop an arms length away from him, and this close, her beauty was stunning and frightening in equal measure. But it had been centuries since something had truly frightened Aleksander, and there was nothing Elizaveta could do to make him act like a pious man frightened of her shadow.

“I have lived for eons,” Elizaveta intoned gravely. “And I will live for eons more. I have seen empires rise and fall. I have seen hundreds of Grisha martyred. I have seen everything there is and everything there will be. You are nothing special.”

Aleksander clicked his tongue softly and took a step closer to her. “You lack imagination. You’ve grown content on your perch and don’t want for more. That is why I will surpass you, Sankta. I know how to keep wanting.”

Elizaveta scoffed, but Aleksander could see a flash of realization in her eyes. “Wanting makes you weak.”

A deflection at best. Aleksander knew he had won. He closed the distance between them and leaned in closer until he could whisper into her ear.

“It is lack of wanting that makes you complacent, Elizaveta. The Age of Saints is over. Your successors are already here. Do you see the way we bend Ravka to our whims, the way we rewrite the world you passed down to us? You will come to see the truth, or be trampled into the mud.”

Elizaveta tilted her head back, red lips curling into a venomous smile. “Do not equate ambition with power, Aleksander. It will be your ruin.”

With that final barb, she stepped away from him, her dismissal clear. Aleksander let the shadows dissipate into nothing. There was no use arguing with words what he could prove with results. He clasped his hands behind his back again.

“When you are ready to become more than a Saint, you know where to find me.”

Elizaveta let her fingers trail across the war table surface until they came to a stop above the black slash that represented the Fold. She traced the edges of it, fresh paint covering what had once been Novokribirsk. “And what is above a Saint?”

He smiled, cruel and terrible. “A god.”

Elizaveta burst out laughing, the sound harsh and discordant. “You are a mouse dreaming of becoming a dragon. Be content with your army, little mouse. Go and find your sun saint. They are all that you will have.”

Aleksander shrugged. “Perhaps. Or perhaps not.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and exited the war room, not bothering to look back, not caring if she left or stayed. She would come crawling back to him once she realized he was right. They all would.

[starssabove]

Merciful Gods are Dead

[content warning for wounds/wound care, infection, Caretaker Whumper/ something like stockholm Whumpee and Whumper, [breief mentions of/implied] torture.]

How long had it been? It must have been at least 3 days?

Whumpee sat in the suffocating silence of the basement, every second hoping to hear anything that indicated that they werent entirely alone. They had been left a small food supply and things to tend to the wounds that had covered their body when they had been put into this room.

The first night all they could feel was a burning anger and resentment towards Whumper. They were sadistic and lived only to creat pain and torment. They had left Whumpee to tend to their own gaping wounds- wounds they had created with pleasure- in this cold, damp cell where the only light was filtered in the through the crack under the creaky door. They had screamed and yelled- taunting their abuser- calling them a coward and wishing, perhaps not as sarcastic as they had made it sound, that Whumper would finish the job. All Whumpee felt was an enveloping and inescapable searing pain.

By the second night, infection had already found Whumpees wounds. They werent used to having to deal with their own wounds. Whumper would always clean them and sew them and bandage them with no mercy. That process was almost as bad as the torture that had inflicted them. Something about the way they pretended to care- that they were only helping Whumpee; At least when Whumper tortured Whumpee, they did it with confidence and Whumpee knew it was all because they enjoyed it. The way they laughed when Whumpee would cry was enough to know. Pretending to care didnt suit them one bit.

The infection brought a new kind of pain. It wasnt white hot and searing, it was warm and sticky and it brought a dull ache into all of their muscles and bones. They couldnt stand it. They knew they needed help, needed to treat the wounds before the infection spread to every inch of their skin, but they knew they werent capable of it in their state. Desperation was starting to fill their chest, and warm tears found their way out of Whumpees eyes. They were so lonely. It was so silent.

Day three they jolted awake from yet another dream replaying Whumpers torture sessions. Whumpee quickly became aware of the sweat that drenched their few pieces of clothing, and the fever that swept through their body. Shit. All they could do was sit on the floor in the silence and cold. They could try to sleep thought they knew their dreams would be ravaged by Whumper.

Whumpee couldnt do this anymore. They were shaking and their skin felt tight and sticky and everything hurt. The pain was no longer tied to their cuts and bruises, it spread to every inch of them no matter how much they tried to clean the wounds or rebandage them. They couldnt do this anymore. They were so lonely. They no longer felt the anger towars Whumper that had consumed them on the first night.

At least Whumper was kind enough to bandage their wounds for them- to spare them from this unprecedented pain. Yes, they were rough and yes, their comforting whispers felt stale and wrong escaping from grossly smiling lips, but they were merciful.

Whumpee opened their mouth and tried to support their voice the best they could with their skin feeling tight around their bones,

“Hey, Whumper? Ill be good now, I promise.” They manage. Nothing happened.

“Thank you for helping me with my wounds normally. You're kind to me, sir.”

They hear footsteps.

The first sound in 3 days makes their heart practically stop. They had done it. They were going to be okay. Whumper was going to help them. Whumpee lets the tension that has kept their muscles tight for the last few days go.

The door opens with the sound of keys and loud creak. Whumpers footsteps echo as they move to the center of the room where Whumpee lays, sweating.

“Now theres a good boy. Im glad youve learned to be grateful towards me.” Their sickening smile already creeps across their lips.

“Please help me, sir” Whumpee chokes out. “It all hurts. Please.”

Whumper takes a moment to consider, and then moves Whumpee into a sitting position, supporting their weight. They lift up Whumpees shirt to examine the wounds on their stomach and back- only half of what was on their body. Whumpee shivered as the cold of the cell hit their burning skin and they felt vioilated by how casually Whumper had stripped them. They felt some anger reignite in their stomach. They remembered just how much of a sick bastard Whumper was. They werent the god that was here to help them. Whumper wasnt assessing the damage, they were admiring their own handiwork.

When Whumper swooped Whumpee into their arms, walking towards the exit of their prison, that fire died once again. They were being helped. And they would have to take what they could get. They let out a few whimpers and Whumpers arms pushed against their now throbbing wounds.

“Shh darling, its gonna be okay now. Im gonna patch you up.” They planted a small kiss on Whumpees forehead.

The whisper was stale and wrong coming from Whumpers smiling mouth, but Whumpee was starting to learn they were going to have to take what they could get. They said a small thank you.

-----

Thanks so much for reading! Reblogs are greatly appreciated! -Ant :)

[ethereousdelirious]

I'm so sick of posting these lmaaaooo honestly publishing fills consistently might be harder than actually writing the fills in the first place

Sicktember 2023 Day 26

Prompt: "I'm so sorry"

Fandom: P.okémon

Characters: L.ucian, Cy.nthia

Cynthia stretched her arm across the expanse of the mattress, frowning when nothing met her fingertips but cold, empty sheets. She blinked to full awareness and found a sea of cool blue fabric— where was Lucian?

Stretching, she sat up and looked around. Maybe he'd woken up first and gone to read on the balcony.

Wrapping herself in a knit throw blanket, Cynthia stood and ventured into the living room. On the TV, a game show aired in bright colors, the volume so low that the sound came out as a mere murmur. Lucian reclined on the couch, eyes half mast behind his glasses.

"Baby?" Cynthia said softly.

He replied with a string of coughs, answering all her unasked questions with the spasm of his chest. "Sorry," he said when he was done, leaning against the back of the couch with his eyes closed. "I woke up with a fever and I didn't want…" He trailed off with a sigh, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. "Thought it would be better if I didn't stay."

Contagion be damned.

Cynthia stood over him and kissed his forehead, letting her lips linger on the damp, smoldering heat.

Lucian sniffled. "So much for that," he said, but with a gentle fondness buried beneath the congestion in his voice.

"Have you eaten?" Cynthia asked, pulling back. Absently, she let her hand rest on his forehead now like she could force his fever down with touch alone.

"I… haven't done much of anything, to be honest." Lucian's flush darkened, his skin heating up beneath her hand.

She smiled down at him and ruffled his hair. "That's good. You're supposed to be resting."

Leaving Lucian tucked under the throw blanket, Cynthia got busy in the kitchen. She made miso soup and coffee and arranged everything on a tray alongside a bottle of cold medicine just in case.

She found Lucian marking on a piece of paper when she returned to the living room, the irritated pink of his nose a few shades darker than it had been before.

Forgetting her self-assigned task, Cynthia stood with the tray balanced on both palms. "What's that?"

"Tallying up my winnings," Lucian said, nodding at the TV, where an old rerun of Kadrabra Kwiz was playing. "I got the Alazakam bonus t- twice—" He interrupted himself with a sneeze, jerking his head to the side with a convulsive motion that made his hair fall in his face. Sniffling, he shook away the curtain of indigo curls that had fallen into his eyes. "By my calculations, we're… Yes, filthy rich."

Cynthia set the tray down on the coffee table and sat beside Lucian so she could brush his hair back properly. He shivered a little, noticeably holding back from leaning into her. "What'll you buy, millionaire?" she asked, looking into his eyes. They both knew that either one of them had the funds to do essentially whatever they wanted, but Cynthia loved to tease.

Lucian shuddered under the gentle touch of her fingertips and pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders. "Nothing you couldn't buy for yourself."

"It means more when it's a present from you "

For a moment, the weariness disappeared from his face and he smiled warmly at her. "A villa in every region, for starters. And a swimsuit for each of them."

"What color?" she pressed, twirling one of his locks around her pointer finger.

He swept his eyes down the length of her body and she looked down at herself. Though she wore pastel sleepwear, pastel didn't really suit her. Colors like black and white were easier to style, though Lucian had admitted long ago he loved to see her in other colors, particularly red. It was clear now from the hungry look on his face that he was imagining it, though the effect was dampened by the shivering and exhaustion apparent in every line of his body. Cynthia leaned over and handed him the small bowl of miso soup.

"Red," said Lucian finally, taking it distractedly. "Aren't you going to eat?"

"Ah." She hadn't thought about that. Laughing at herself, she darted to the kitchen and got herself a bowl.

In the short time that she'd been gone, Lucian seemed to have worsened. His posture had slipped a little and he shivered so hard that the broth sloshed in his untouched bowl.

Cynthia sat down again and snuggled up to him. A long time ago, she'd thought Lucian's tendency to hide and downplay his maladies was due to a strong desire to be independent, to be strong and silent. That he hated to be pitied, to be coddled.

In fact, the opposite was true. Lucian was simply stoic by nature and responded favorably to a gentle treatment. So Cynthia kissed his arm and nuzzled into the thick fabric of his hoodie like an Eevee, gazing up at him with Baby-Doll Eyes. "You'll feel better after you eat," she said. "And there's coffee so you don't get a headache."

Lucian nodded and took a sip of the broth, shifting uncomfortably between Cynthia and the armrest. "I know… I just, I—" He broke off with a shaky huff and rubbed his face with his free hand.

"I know, baby." Cynthia pulled back. Maybe she was crowding him. "Eat some of the seaweed for me and then you can have some medicine, okay?"

Lucian, for his part, was always a cooperative patient. Even now, when he clearly wasn't feeling up for much of anything, he managed to finish his miso soup. It was more than Cynthia had been expecting given his earlier reluctance.

"Do you feel any better?" she asked. He'd stopped shivering, at least."

"Not as cold," he said listlessly, looking around. "Do you know what time it is?" He ducked his head to cough into the crook of his arm, eyes up like he wasn't done talking. "I, um… We were going to go to that book signing today."

"Oh!" Cynthia had forgotten all about that. It wasn't the kind of thing she was really interested in, some meet and greet for an author Lucian liked. But it was important to him and she hadn't had plans, so she'd agreed to go. "Oh." Lucian had been so excited, too. "I'm sorry, baby." A sharp intake of breath from Lucian made her pause and she waited for him to finish sneezing before continuing, "Do you want me to go without you?"

Blinking tears out of his eyes, he raised his head to look at her. "Would you?"

"Of course I would."

[liv-writez]

The Sun is a Star

//// Cross-Posted on Ao3

“Do you think-”

“No, I don’t, actually.” He paused for a beat, not taking his eyes off the blanket of lilac that seemed to tuck in the sun. “...I try not to.” Sirius snickered, shaking his head.

James sighed, rolling his eyes. He leaned backward to lay on the tall grass. The thick, unruly hair nearly blended into the ground as the sun continued to sink beneath the sky. James exhaled, letting a huff of air out which blew out a dandelion. The fluffy white parachute seeds were carried by the wind, directly onto Sirius’ face.

He scrunched up his face, coughing and sputtering as he swept them away with his hand. “Ach- James! What the hell was that about?!”

James let out another exasperated sigh, smirking as he turned to look at Sirius again. It was clear what he wanted, and Sirius hung his head in defeat, sinking into the grass beside James.

The two were now watching as the stars were becoming visible. A breeze passed through them like a wave of pollen and that iconic summer hay fever but still comfortable from that lingering warmth. Sirius turned to James, grinning. “Okay, okay. Say your piece.”

And just like that, James let out a hearty chuckle. “No, no, no, Pads. Please, I insist. It’s stupid, anyways..”

“Can’t be that stupid if you were so easily ready to pout about it.” Sirius leaned closer to James, nudging him playfully with his elbow. “C’mooon. C’moooooon.”

James chuckled again, clutching his ribs defensively as he wiggled away from Sirius. “Fine.” He took a deep breath, trying not to giggle again. “So, do you think-”

Sirius smirked playfully, pinching James in the ribs. “This had better not be some sort of love confession. We both may be handsome but I reckon it’d make things awkward, given that we’re rooming together ‘n all.”

“Sirius, for Merlin’s sake, stop interrupting me! You bloody twat!” James pinched Sirius back, who then began to squeal with laughter.

“ACH! ALRIGHT, I GET IT! I’M SORRY! UNCLE!”

James paused then, retreating from the other boy’s ribs and mulling over his words. The silence between the two was thick but comfortable, filled with remaining birds chirping, the wind howling through the trees, the occasional cricket and Sirius lying beside him attempting to catch his breath. “I guess.. In some way or another, it is a confession of love.”

Sirius sat up, his bangs falling into his face. “Sincerely?”

“Just- let me finish.”

He laid back down beside James, a pit forming in his stomach as he anticipated his best friend’s next words. Depending on whatever James said next would potentially change the trajectory of their friendship, for better or for worse. Sirius didn’t want things to change. Things had finally gotten better for him since he had been staying with the Potters.

He was terrified to be loved, especially by someone who seemed to love others so effortlessly.

James gulped and began again. “Do you think... We’re friends in every universe?”

Oh. that was… not at all what he had been expecting. Sirius blinked, wide-eyed, thinking about the question.

“I reckon so.” he paused, nodding adamantly. "The sun is a star."

"The sun is a star," James repeated, whispering as he bit back a large, goofy grin. "Can't argue with that logic."

Sirius looked back up at the sky, watching the sun continue to set upon the horizon. “Though we’re different, given that we have different functions and public views and tales written about us, at the end of the day we are one in the same.” he blinked, watching James’ reaction.

James just continued to stare at the sky, smiling impossibly wider as fireflies began to gently float into the tall grass surrounding the two. The green hue of bioluminescent bug contrasted nicely with the midnight blue being pulled into the sky and was extremely flattering when reflecting against the eyes of the boys.

“But the sun also blinds you when you look at it. No stars or even the moon are visible when next to it.” Sirius continued, the corner of his lip tugging downwards as he contemplated how truly beloved James was in comparison to him.

James had it all, loving parents, friends, a nice house, wealth, good looks, and intelligence. He was a sweet, soon-to-be head boy and star quidditch player. Sirius couldn’t help but feel inadequate, given that he was a teenage runaway who was seen as nothing but a delinquent and a disgrace to the Black family name.

“Ah, but I don’t choose to look at it like that.” James shook his finger, tsk-tsking away before he continued. “The sun brightens things up so we can see well, yeah? Well, you can see as well in the moonlight- or starlight for that matter, just less so.” He paused, furrowing his brows at Sirius. “It’s not like the stars disappear when the sun is out. They’re still there.”

“I know that, but-”

“-But, the sun is mundane. The stars, however, are so romanticized and beloved that entire cultures have developed because of them.” James continued, lacing his fingers with Sirius’ as he broke out into another smile. “Sailors use stars for navigation, not the sun.”

Sirius blinked sheepishly. He didn’t know what to say, but there was no denying that the boy beside him was correct. “Huh.”

The atmosphere had changed instantly between the two, as James and Sirius now felt a cosmic warmth cloak the other. Within an instant, an entire lifetime of lollygagging flashed before the boys. From hot summer nights by the lake to winters spent indoors decorating a Christmas tree.

They would be each other's best man, shoulder to cry on, and greatest beacon of support.

Sirius would never admit it, but he was on the verge of tears just thinking about it. For the first time in a long while, he felt at home. He felt loved. James had been correct, funnily enough.

James could sense the unrest in his friend, leaning over to look at Sirius. His deep brown eyes were swimming with affection, as it seemed James could nearly drown in the love he had for all people, but especially for Sirius. He stifled a giggle, pressing a chaste kiss to Sirius’ forehead before lying back down.

Speechless, Sirius closed his eyes again, instantly relaxing back into the grass and tilting his head to lean on James’ shoulder.

“Thank you.”

[the-letter-horror-lover]

Blood Money: A Black Butler FanFic by Lolita-bat

Anime » Kuroshitsuji Rated: T, English, Adventure & Mystery, Sebastian M., Words: 9k+, Favs: 72, Follows: 70, Published: Feb 11, 2011 Updated: Aug 26, 2012

62Chapter 6

The day progressed as per usual at Phantomhive Manor, despite the unexpected guest in the spare room on the second floor. After all, there was dusting to be done, business to attend to, the Young Master's tutoring must remain on schedule, and most importantly perhaps, dinner was still to be prepared. Of course, in spite of all obligations, the odd girl had stirred up some talk within the otherwise peaceful household, and, as these things seem to go, tensions were slowly, discreetly, rising.

-ch.6-

"What do you think of her, Sebastian?" The young Earl asked, crossing one leg imperially over the other and leaning back in the overly-large winged armchair. The dull winter sunlight streamed through the windows of the study, casting Ciel Phantomhive in a cold blue light that matched his coat as well as his attitude.

"My opinion is hardly worth any weight, Young Master." Came the serviceable reply.

Ciel gave his servant a piercing look from his one exposed eye, and curled his fingers over the head of his cane. "I am not asking for an opinion, Sebastian, and I expect you to answer any question I present to you as if it was an order. Understood?"

"You seem to have made yourself clear, Young Master." Sebastian took a small pause before continuing. "She does not appear to be any threat, although the circumstances under which she arrived are… rather questionable."

The boy lifted his chin impatiently at the cryptic statement. "The circumstances being…?"

"Besides coming to us in the middle of a blizzard, her carriage had been attacked and searched, then burned. It also seems as though she is lying about her heritage." The butler sneered just slightly. "The girl told me she was Polish."

"With a name like Alkeav?" Ciel asked indignantly, "Does she think us stupid?" He snorted, turning a large ring around his thumb absently as he thought. "Well, either way it doesn't really matter. I have more important things than a lost little girl to worry over." He straightened in his seat. "Sebastian, I order you to keep an eye on her, and don't forget about tonight, I don't want my plans to be jeopardized by her."

Sebastian bowed gracefully. "There is no need to worry, Young Master, Serafima is sick with fever, and will not be joining you and your guests for dinner tonight."

"Hmph, all the better I suppose." Ciel said, "Pity, though, I would have liked to see how she conducted herself. I'm convinced she is of high upbringing, but I can't tell for sure." The boy tapped his fingers against his cane thoughtfully. "Really, it's just vexing how little we know of her. I want you to find out as much as you can, Sebastian, and tell me anything you find out along the way. It may be beneficial for us to keep her here a bit longer."

The sound of breaking glass erupted from the other end of the door, along with a high yelp and Bard's rough, barking voice.

The modeled smile stayed put on Sebastian's face as the Earl dismissed him from his presence, but it quickly vanished as he stepped into the hall and hastened towards the source of the commotion.

Fine china lay in pieces over the parquet floors, with Mey-rin hastily sweeping the ruined dinnerware into a dust-bin for disposal. Meanwhile, Bardroy kneeled by the mess, holding the dust-bin for Mey-rin with one hand, and a tray with a bottle of tonic and a steaming towel in the other. Both servants froze at the sight of a livid silhouette framing the doorway, and hastily began stuttering out apologies and excuses.

Sebastian silenced the two lower workers with a gloved finger, and asked, "Must every occasion begin calamitously? Are you trying to make my job harder?" He sighed and swept the broom and bin out of Bard and Mey-rin's bewildered hands, turning away to begin his long preparation for dinner. "Please, both of you stay out of the way. I have no time for your mistakes," He paused, glancing at the tray Bardroy was carrying, "And mercifully tell me what you've got there, Bardroy?"

What might have been a blush colored the cook's scruffy cheeks, and he straightened up, gesturing down the hall. "Got'a spoonful'a tonic 'ere for the Lady… er… Guest. I Jus figured, her bein' sick an' all."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes, but decided to let his suspicions sit for the moment. There were more important things to prepare, like the smoked salmon, and fresh cream and fruit for dessert, and, was that a finger print he spotted on the window? The butler shook his head doggedly, turning away from the amateur servants once again. "Do what you can for our guest, but leave all other preparations to me, if you will."

As the hurried steps of the butler echoed down the hall, Bard turned to Mey-rin. "Don't mind that ol' bat." He said bracingly, picking up the few surviving dishes and placing them back on their high shelf. "We all know Mr. Sebastian means well, eh?"

Mey-rin wiped her glasses mournfully. "Oh, yes, I'm sure Mr. Sebastian means none but good. I'd do anythin' fer him an' the Master, I would." She picked up her duster and gripped it determinedly. "That's why I'm gonna dust this place up right clean-like, I am. That shouldn't disturb Mr. Sebastian too much."

"Atta girl, Mey-rin, that's the spirit." Bard replied with a grin, straightening his tray. "Well, I'm off ta give Miss Sarah some medicine."

"Right-o, Bardroy!" The maid replied, beaming widely. "Check in on 'er fer me as well, won'cha? She looked sick as a dove when we left 'er. Do ya think she'll be alright? I never did see a girl so small and so sick all at once, and 'er bein out in the snow an all."

"Oh, I'll check on 'er for ya, Mey-rin. I'm sure she'll be just fine." Bard assured her, turning down the hall as he spoke. Mey-rin bobbed her head, and scurried off in the opposite direction. The dull winter sunlight hardly lit the hall as Bard reached Sera's door, and hesitantly turned the handle.

A rush of warmth assaulted the hallway as the door creaked open. A fire roared in its hearth, and the curtains were drawn over the window and around the four-poster bed, making the room look much smaller than it had appeared when Bard had last been in it. Hesitantly, the cook stepped into the dark room, flinching as the door shut itself behind him. Shadows danced in the corners with the fire light, and the candle beside the bed seemed about to burn out. Bard parted the curtains around the bed to find Serafima still asleep, her cheeks bright red, and the tiny white cat curled up next to her head.

"Mrrroow?" Inquired the high-pitched purr of the kitten, as it stretched its stumpy legs across the pillow.

Sera frowned, and muttered feverishly, turning away from the fire-light. Nána told me not to…" She whispered, curling into a ball under the heavy comforter. "He said not to." Her brow furrowed with worry. "I don't know why." As she turned away, her face was cast in shadows; the flickering light making her dark hair glow like stoked copper.

Bard turned away from the bed hastily, setting the tray next to the sputtering candle before retreating from the stifling room. The whole scene had been rather disconcerting, besides, he had important things to do. Yes… very important things indeed. The girl was asleep, so what could he do? He tried not to think of sickness and muttering in one's sleep as he hurried down the hall and away from the mysterious little girl.

_fin_

Okay, being honest here, I wasn't planning on continuing this story. But due to the amount of interest I've been getting lately, I think I might be guilted into it. ;)

Sooo, if you all continue to show some love for this, I'm sure I can scrape up the last of my energy to write out a few chapters every so often between assignments and my six hour illustration classes. ick. This is now my second year of college and I start classes at 8 AM tomorrow! Wish me luck, eh? Thank you so much for your support and comments, I really love any feedback; positive, negative, and helpful alike. ^^ Keep reading and enjoy!

His Butler, Impoverished by theknittingotaku

RENT & Kuroshitsuji Xover Rated: T, English, Words: 1k+, Favs: 27, Follows: 20, Published: Jul 29, 2011 Updated: Aug 15, 2011

36Chapter 1

Note: I own absolutely no rights to Black Butler or Rent.

Ciel Phantomhive rode his bike down the streets of New York City, where his beloved Bohemia would soon be destroyed. His camera was rolling, and he was looking for something, anything, to inspire his documentary. He pulled over next to where a homeless lady sat, huddling under her blankets. "Excuse me, ma'am, but I'm making a documentary and if I could have a bit of your time, could you-"

"Get your camera out of my face," she said, flipping him off. "I'm not looking for attention, I'm looking for cash."

"I'm sorry. I'm as broke as you are." Ciel hurried back to his bike.

"Then get the hell out of here," she snapped, pulling the blankets more tightly around her.

"Sorry," he mumbled. He got back to his "apartment" and ran upstairs. Bard was sitting there with his guitar, as usual.

"Get any new footage?" Bard asked, strumming a chord.

"Nope. Get any new inspiration?" Ciel answered back.

"Yeah, right." Bard got up and put down his guitar. "If only I could write just one good song, we'd be living it up."

"You've been saying that for two years now. Maybe you should just give up."

"Says the man running around with his video camera all the time."

"Touché." Ciel sat down on the rugged couch. "So, do you want to get something to eat later?"

Bard sighed. "Spotlight on my empty wallet. We're heating our home with my failed sheet music. How the hell are we supposed to get any food? We can't even pay the rent Lord Soma's now imposed on us."

"To think we used to be friends with that jerk."

Something hit against the window. Bard went to check it out.

"Hey, guys!" Sebastian called up. "Care for some company?"

"Sure!" Bard dropped the keys down to Sebastian. "Come on up." He went back inside. "It's Sebastian."

"Cool," Ciel answered.

Meanwhile, Sebastian was walking down the alley to the entrance when some gang members came up behind him. They beat him, stole his jacket, and left him bloody.

Sebastian couldn't get up. He lay there for a half hour, bleeding, when a man in a dress came up to him.

"Look at you, you're all beat up. What's your name, sweetheart?" he asked.

Sebastian choked out his name, blood coming to his lip.

"My name's Grell Sutcliff. I'm going to take care of you, honey." Grell picked up Sebastian and carried him home.

2

Ciel and Bard both sat in their apartment, waiting for Sebastian to visit.

"He's been down there an awfully long time. I wonder if something's wrong," Ciel commented.

"Let's go check it out," Bard said, putting his guitar down.

The two came out of their apartment, keeping a close eye out for Sebastian. However, instead of seeing him, they saw an all-too-familiar face.

"Lord Soma. What are you doing here?" Bard said.

"Just checking out the area for Curryland," he said, not making eye contact. "How's your girlfriend doing, Ciel? Are you and Ran-Mau still together, or did she finally leave you?"

"We are not together anymore," Ciel said to the ground.

Soma smirked. "So, what's his name?"

"Madame Red," Bard answered for him.

"What? You mean-" Soma couldn't say anymore; he was laughing too hard.

Ciel glared at Bard. "You couldn't've lied to him for me?" he mouthed. Bard shook his head, grinning.

Soma, finally regaining his composure, spoke once again. "So, how are you planning to pay your rent?"

"We can't. Nobody here can, and you know it. You went back on your promise to everyone here just so you can tear down the place and build your wondrous Curryland," Ciel said.

"This place deserves to be destroyed. It's getting in the way of progress." Bard scoffed at this. "Now, now. Don't be rude. I have a proposition for you, my old friends. Care to know what it is?"

Ciel looked to Bard, then to Soma, then back to Bard, who shrugged. "What is it?" he asked flatly.

"If you can get your friend, Ran-Mau, to call off the protest she's leading, I will call off both of your debts and you can live it up with me in Curryland," Soma said.

"You actually expect us to betray our friends just like that?" Bard asked, insulted.

"Come on. I want to be able to destroy this place without a menial protest getting in my way. You want to have a better life post-Bohemia. This way, both of our problems are solved."

"Never." Ciel stared him down.

"Fine, then," Soma went on, unfazed. "Enjoy your beloved Bohemia. It won't be around that much longer." He left, his high-end boots clicking against the ground.

"To think we were ever friends with that sorry excuse for a man," Ciel said. "Want to continue looking for Sebastian?"

"It's too cold. Let's go back inside and possibly warm ourselves by the light of your burning scripts," Bard answered.

36Chapter 3

Bard and Ciel were back at their apartment, still wondering where Sebastian had gone. Suddenly, the door swung open.

"I'm here!" Sebastian shouted, smiling and carrying a bottle of wine.

Ciel looked at Sebastian. "Where did you go?" he asked.

"And how did you manage to get that?" Bard inquired.

"Gentlemen, our benefactor on this Christmas Day, whose charity is only matched by talent, I must say," Sebastian answered, pouring out the wine. "A new member of the New York City avant-garde, Grell Du Mart Schunard!"

Then, Grell entered, dressed as Mrs. Claus and wearing zebra tights. "Today for you, tomorrow for me!" he shouted, handing wads of cash to Ciel and Bard.

"You earn this on the street?" Ciel asked.

"It was my lucky day today on Avenue A, when a lady in a limousine drove my way. She said, 'Darling, be a dear. I haven't slept in a year. I need your help to make my neighbor's yappy dog disappear. This Akita, Evita, just won't shut up! I believe if you play nonstop, that pup will breathe its very last high-strung breath. I'm certain that cur will bark itself to death. We agreed on a fee, a thousand dollars guaranteed. Catch-free! And a bonus, if I trimmed her tree. Now who could foretell that it would go so well? But sure as I am here that dog is now in doggy hell." Grell went on like that, telling the story of how his drumming killed Evita and how he met Sebastian.

"Well… Thanks, I guess," Ciel said.

"We have to be on our way," Sebastian told them.

"We're going to a support group," Grell said, looking at Bard. "Would you like to come with us?"

"Thanks, but I'll stay here," Bard said, taking another sip of wine.

There was a long silence.

"You know, it's not just for people with AIDS," Sebastian said to Ciel.

"I think I will come. I'll meet you there," he answered.

They said their good-byes, leaving Ciel and Bard together.

"Are you sure you don't want to go? Don't you want to have fun? It's Christmas!" Ciel said, trying to convince Bard to go.

"Sorry, but sitting around in a circle with people just like me and complaining about how miserable their lives are doesn't sound like fun," Bard said, not getting up.

Ciel sighed. "Fine, then. Just try to get out there and do something special. Christmas only comes once a year, you know."

"I'm not an idiot. I realize that. Could you just go?" Bard answered.

"Suit yourself," Ciel said, exiting.

Bard was happy to finally be left alone. Just then, there was a tap on the window.

[grey-rambles]

Of Iced Coffee and Interuptions

Technoblade x Reader; Coffee Shop AU

This is for @dreamwvrld's one year writing event. Kay's "Starstruck" series is what got me into this side of the fandom, and this writing event is what finally encouraged me to give writing another try! Hope you like it!!

Words: ~7.6k

Warnings: some swearing, potential gendered language (I did my best to make it neutral, but I may have missed something)

Notes: sorry if anything doesn't make complete sense-- this is pieced together from an SBI fanfic draft I abandoned back in November, and writing I did mostly while in a fevered haze while I was sick. I think it turned out pretty good regardless though!

You let out a sigh, breath dissipating into mist in the cool autumn air. Walking up Main St. this early in the morning, dawn’s rays just starting to peek over the tops of the buildings, was always a peaceful way to start your day, a quiet sort of anticipation of the day to come as the street was just starting to come alive. Although you would much rather still have been cozy in bed…

Walking up to the window of Crow’s Roost, you noted that the lights were already on inside the building, casting a warm, yellow glow onto the sidewalk outside. So, Techno had arrived before you, then.

The bell above the door jingled merrily as you unlocked and swung open the door, shattering the quiet of the morning. Heading further into the shop, you start unbuttoning your fall coat, calling out a “Morning, Techno!” to the man behind the bar.

“Mornin’,” he calls back quietly, mouth quirked up every-so-slightly on the left side into a smile. He had paused in his actions to glance up at you when you arrived, but quickly moved back to setting up the espresso machine for the day, hands steady and practiced as he pulled test shots to calibrate the machine.

You grabbed the keys to the staff room from where they were tucked underneath the counter, heading towards the basement staircase with purpose.

“We need more caramel syrup!” Techno called out to your back, “And sleeves!”

“Got it!” you called back, hurrying your steps even further. Down the stairs, through the security door, and onwards into the staff room, where you set down your bag and took off your jacket, popping your lunch into the designated fridge in the kitchen. Quickly switching out your boots for your more practical work shoes and throwing on your apron, you grabbed the items Techno had requested and flew back up the stairs to help the man finish up with the opening tasks.

This was a well practiced dance between Techno and you at this point; you had been working at “Crow’s Roost Cafe and Bakery” for going on three years, and Techno for even longer. The two of you were typically scheduled to open shop together three days a week, and honestly, those were your favourite shifts. It had taken about six months for Techno to really warm up to you, but once you both got comfortable with each other, it was the start of a beautiful relationship.

The two of you had fallen into a routine for these early mornings ages ago– he opened up and calibrated the espresso machine, while you set up the pastry case and brewed the drip coffee. He would then head outside to unlock and set up the patio furniture while you swept up and reset the tables inside the cafe, and then you would typically have ten minutes to sit, have a drink, and chat before it was time to open the doors to the public.

“The usual this morning?” Techno asked, already reaching for the Earl Grey tea bags to start your London Fog.

“Nah, I’m feeling like a Cafe Dulce today, didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Bruh,” he says, switching over to the double shot portafilter and fiddling with the grinder, “I literally do not know how you can drink this stuff, it’s basically sugar masquerading as coffee.”

You giggle. “Ah yes, Mr. Blade, but you’re forgetting a very important fact. I… do not like coffee.”

He lets out a gentle huff of laughter as he quickly measures out the sweetened condensed milk into your glass, then begins pulling the shots overtop, turning away to start preparing his own drink. The two of you fall into comfortable silence as he finishes up with your drinks and tidies the station, before carrying over a tray with your drinks and a croissant to share, and sitting down across from you.

“So,” you say, gently stirring the sweetened condensed milk into the espresso in your glass until it all dissolved, “what’s the plan for today?”

“Well,” he takes a sip of his cappuccino, “Niki will be in around 10 to help you out for a couple of hours until Tommy gets out of class around 1, then she’s got some special orders to work on downstairs. Phil wants me to come with him to the roastery at about 9:30 to do some quality checks, but we’re having a meeting in his office about something first, so you’ll be alone for about an hour, will that be okay?” At your nod, he continues, “Ranboo will be in at 3 when you leave, and he and Tommy are closing tonight.”

“Will you be at the roastery all day, do you think?” you ask him through a mouthful of croissant.

“Nahh, Phil doesn’t think this’ll take too long, he just wants me to get in some more practice, especially with the light roasts, since they’re more fiddly. I’m anticipating being back here in the early afternoon, but we’re running low on most of the syrups and chai concentrate, so I’ll probably be downstairs working on those for the rest of the day.”

You try not to let your face fall too obviously– as much as you love your other coworkers, Techno is by far your favourite to work with, the man’s dry wit and chill personality meshing wonderfully with your own. But, as his apprenticeship under Phil continued on, he was spending more and more time off the main cafe floor, instead putting in hours at the coffee roastery a few blocks down, or in the basement kitchen area preparing house-made syrups and other drink components. It feels like you rarely get to spend any time with the man anymore, and that makes something deep within your chest ache.

Shaking yourself out of your stupor, you set down your now-empty glass and clap your hands. “Well! It’s about time to open this place up, so let’s get moving!”

The morning is relatively steady, but not particularly busy, as per usual. The big rushes in your location tend to come at lunchtime and after work. It gives you some time to get through some of the busy work around the cafe, like restocking the merchandise shelves, and refilling the tea leaves, chatting casually with Techno off and on.

You’re just turning away from the scale used to measure out the drip coffee beans to quickly sneak a look at Techno, when you notice that he’s already looking at you. You tilt your head slightly, smiling softly. “What’s up?”

His eyes widen slightly at being caught, and a very faint, almost imperceptible pink flush spreads up his neck and across his cheeks. If you had been less well-versed in reading your coworker, you would have missed it.

“I uh,” he stuttered slightly, before continuing on more confidently, “I was wondering if you’d—”

“Good morning, you two! How’s the day been so far?”

You turn to the entrance and see the owner of the shop, one Philza Minecraft, just coming through the door.

You shoot him a wide smile. “Good morning, Phil! It’s been pretty good so far, not too busy. We’ll need to order in more vanilla rooibos soon though, it’s getting pretty low.”

“Espresso’s pulling really long today too,” Techno adds, “I fiddled with the grind settings, so it’s okay for now, but we’ll probably have to pull it apart and descale the pipes soon.”

“Alright, good to know,” Phil says, “I’m gonna head down and start getting ready to head over to the roastery. Tech, if you could finish up here and head down, I need to speak with you about something before we head out.”

Techno nods his assent and quickly begins a surface clean of the espresso station, passing along any relevant information to you in his usual calm monotone. Just as he turns to head down, you shoot up from where you’ve been causally resting your back against the counter.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot!” you exclaim, “What were you gonna ask me, before Phil walked in?”

The subtle blush travels quickly back up Techno’s cheeks. “Don’t worry about it,” he says gruffly, “it wasn’t important.” He turns quickly on his heel and walks away, not waiting for a response.

Blinking slightly at Techno’s abrupt (and rather stange) behaviour, you turn back to the counter to continue your shift.

~o0O0o~

You’re just finishing up with an order when Techno storms back into the cafe, letting the door to the stairwell slam behind him. You exchange concerned looks with one of your regulars as you hand over their drink. Techno continues on through the mostly empty cafe, stopping just shy of the door to put on his outerwear, scowl affixed on his face.

“Heading to the roastery now, Techno?” you ask his back, as he buttons up his coat. He ignores you. Your eyebrows furrow slightly. “Techno?” you repeat, as you begin making your way over to him.

He continues to ignore you, finishing up with the fastenings on his leather gloves and reaching for the door of the shop.

You place a single hand on his forearm, effectively stopping him from leaving. “Hey, don’t ignore me. What’s wrong?”

He turns to face you, expression softening slightly.

“Sorry. That talk with Phil didn’t go in the direction I thought it would, but I shouldn’t take it out on you. I really do need to go now though.”

“Do you want a drink for the road?” you ask, desperate for just another moment with him. He shakes his head, expression hardening again as he looks back at something behind you. He shoots a “Good-bye” over his shoulder as he whirls around and walks out.

You turn around to see your boss in the doorway to the stairwell, expression strained.

“You headed out too, Phil?” you ask, circling back around to your post behind the counter.

He grimaces slightly. “I’ll probably give it a couple of minutes. Let Tech have some time to cool off a little on his own.”

“What was that all about, anyways?” you ask Phil, as you hold up a travel cup towards him with a raised eyebrow. At his nod, you begin preparing his usual Americano Misto. Phil lets out a sigh, letting his head drop back.

“My son’s coming home.”

“Oh?”

Phil sighed again. “Yeah, he moved away for university five years ago, but now that he’s graduated he’s not very happy living there anymore. We’ve been talking about it for a while, but he’s recently started showing interest in helping me out with the shop again, like he did in high school.”

“Well, I’m really happy for you, Phil,” you say, passing over his finished drink, “but I don’t understand what this has to do with Techno storming out of here.”

“Well, Techno is my apprentice, and the understanding we had was that he would take over the shop from me some day. And I’d still like for him to! He’s very good at his job, it’s just… he's very good at the coffee part of the job. Less so the… people part of the job."

You nodded, understanding where Phil was coming from. There was a reason Techno typically handled the drink making, and you, the till when the two of you worked together… he wasn't the most social person, especially with strangers.

"And so," Phil continued, taking a sip of his drink, "I thought that maybe the two of them could split the job. Wil doesn't know a thing about coffee, but he studied political science with a minor in business, so he could handle the people side of things, and Techno could deal with the coffee."

You hazard a guess. "But Techno didn't like that very much when you told him?"

“You could say that, yeah," Phil said with a strained laugh, "He stormed out of my office pretty much as soon as I finished talking."

You pause in wiping down the counters, brow furrowed, staring out the front window. That… was incredibly unlike Techno. He and Phil had had their share of disagreements, but you had never heard of an instance where the younger had literally walked away from the problem without at least trying to talk it out. To say you were concerned was an understatement.

As though sensing your tumultuous thoughts, Phil clapped his hands gently. "Well, no sense dwelling on it. I'm sure we'll get it all sorted in the end. I should head out now though, thanks for the drink, mate," he called over his shoulder on the way out the door.

Giving your head a quick shake to clear it of any wandering thoughts, you turned back to your work. Phil was right– no sense in worrying too much over it, everything would be resolved in time.

~o0O0o~

The rest of your shift seemed to fly by, between the lunch rush and catching up with Niki and Tommy, and soon enough you were handing off your station to head home.

"Have a good close, guys!" you called over your shoulder as you headed for the stairwell.

"Good night, king!" Tommy hollered back, Ranboo opting to just shoot you a wave.

Pushing through the security door, you pause for a moment as soft music floats through the air of the basement. The door to the staff room is ajar, propped open slightly by a small can of paint, casting a soft beam of light into the otherwise dimly lit space.

Peering your head in through the open door, you see Techno, back turned to you, humming along to the song playing on his phone. He's got a couple of pots on the go on the stove, hair pulled back into a messy bun and shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He seems relaxed, fully focused on the task at hand.

Moving a little further into the room, not wanting to disturb his workflow, you quietly head towards the coat tree to get ready to head home, keeping an eye on Techno all the while. You're somewhat transfixed in watching him work, seeing him so at ease.

Techno walks over to the storage shelves adjacent to the cooktop, back still turned to you. Huffing very slightly, he reaches up and grabs down one of the industrial sized bags of sugar, carrying it back over to his station easily.

Now you had helped Phil unpack and shelve those things a couple of times, and they were heavy. You hadn't realized that Techno was so strong until now, watching the muscles in his shoulders and biceps flex as he set the bag down on the countertop. God, he could probably pick you up and pin you against a wall if he wanted to–

Wait, what? Where did that thought come from?

You must have made some sort of noise, since Techno finally looked up from his work and turned towards you. “Oh hey, didn’t see you there,” he said, seeming much more calm than he had this morning, “You headed out for the day?”

“Yeah, all done for the day!” you reply. Silence falls for a moment as you turn to hang your apron on the shelf, before you break it again to mention, “Seems like you’re feeling a little bit better.”

He laughs, but it doesn’t really sound happy. “Yeah, a bit. Still reeling a little bit, if I’m honest.”

You take a seat in one of the chairs to change your shoes out. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Techno lets out a sigh, shoulders slumping a bit. “How much did Phil tell you?”

"Not much, just that his son was coming home, and that he wants the two of you to split the duties involved with running the shop when he retires.”

"I mean, that's pretty much the long and short of it." Techno sighed, falling into a contemplative silence as he gathered his thoughts, gaze distant. You sit for a moment, just observing his silhouette in the dim lighting. He really is very handsome, you mused, tracing over his features slowly. Broad shoulders, sharp jawline, large hands. Bright eyes and long pink hair, roots just starting to grow out. You feel a sudden urge to smooth out the crease between his eyebrows with your finger.

He turns back to the countertop abruptly before he begins speaking again. "Phil originally didn't want to offer me an apprenticeship, did you know that?"

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. Techno'd already started his apprenticeship when you had begun working at Crow's Roost, and Phil had always spoken so fondly of the younger, pride shining in his eyes, you would never had thought there was any sort of patchy history there.

Making a small noise of acknowledgement and interest, you wait for Techno to continue, your boots sitting forgotten on the floor in front of you.

"Yeah, he really wasn't too keen on the idea at first. I'd been working here for about a year, had just finished my first semester at college, and I was miserable. But I liked working here. And I liked learning about coffee– it's a lot more hands-on than my English courses were, no matter how much I love literature. So, I dropped out to start working here full time.

“Phil started teaching me some of the more complicated barista stuff– I had set my eyes on winning the National Barista Championships as my goal at that point, and Phil won that thing twice back in the day, so he walked me through creating my own signature drink, and gave critiques on hundreds of shots of espresso while I perfected my technique. Like, he spent hours in here with me after the shop had closed for the night, practising everything.

“And then the local competition came, and I dominated. Then Regionals. I swept that one too. Phil came with me to every event, talked me down while I had a panic attack backstage, helped me through my social awkwardness while talking to the judges and other contestants before and after the competition.

“And soon enough, it was time for the National Championship. Waiting for the competition to end and the results to be posted was agonizing. But in the end…. I won. And at that point, I knew this is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

“We threw a pretty huge party, here at the shop, after my win. It was nice, but it all came down to me and Phil here again once everyone had headed home. He told me how proud he was of me. And I asked Phil if he would like to take me on as an apprentice officially. That I’d done some thinking and decided that this is where my passion was, that I wanted to learn more about the art of coffee, and we had worked so well together, so wouldn’t he pretty please be my teacher?”

Techno pauses here, finally. "And he said no. Said it had nothing to do with me, that he just didn't want to train anyone at that moment."

He laughs. "I had just won the most prestigious award a barista can win, and it didn't even matter any more because I still couldn't have the one thing I wanted more than anything.

"I knew Phil had a son, of course. Even met him a few times. He's nice enough, though he was never really interested in the business, much to Phil's disappointment. I think he was hoping to be able to pass his passion onto his kid, but Wil was always more interested in his music and his politics than he was in coffee. I don't know if Phil just stopped holding out hope, or if they reached some sort of agreement, but he came to me about a month after I initially asked, saying that he had reconsidered the apprenticeship, and that he wanted to take me on."

"And now Wil's coming back…. It just makes me feel like second choice all over again."

The two of you sit in contemplative silence for a few moments. You stare at Techno’s back, trying to figure out anything that you could say that might help him. After another moment, you heasitently ask, “Have you… told Phil any of this?”

He snorts. “Talking about my feelings with my pseudo-father figure? Cringe.”

“Techno…”

He turns to face you again, leaning casually against the counter. “None of this is his fault or his problem. He never asked for an overly-attached and insecure protégé. I clearly am putting more value on the relationship than he is, and that’ll just have to be okay. It’ll be hard, but I’ll get there.”

You look at him in disbelief. How can someone so beautiful be so very stupid?

“Techno…” you stand and move closer to him, meeting his eyes, “that… is maybe the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He blinks at you, clearly caught off guard. “Heh?”

He opens his mouth as though to continue speaking, but you cut him off before he can. “Dude, anyone with eyes can see that Phil thinks the world of you! I’m sure this is all just some sort of misunderstanding, and I’m sure he would be happy to talk it out with you if you bring it up. There’s no need for you to suffer in silence because you’re afraid of being ‘cringe’.” You put air quotes around the word, and your heart warms when the corners of Techno’s mouth lift slightly into a smile at the action, but they quickly fall again.

“How can you be so sure?” he asks you, expression surprisingly open and vulnerable for a man usually so stoic. Your stomach swoops at being trusted with this side of him.

“Because I do. Every time Phil talks about you, his face lights up, and he has done nothing in my presence except for sing your praises. Even today while he and I were chatting after you left, he was talking about how he just wanted you to be able to play to your strengths in the future. Did he not explain to you how he wanted the split between you and his son to work?”

Techno looks to the side. “I may not have… stuck around for long enough for him to get that far…”

You roll your eyes. Of course he didn’t. “Well, he explained it to me. He wants you to run the coffee side of things, and for– Wil, you said?-- to handle the ‘people’ side of it. He minored in business in college if I recall correctly.”

You place a hand gently on Techno's forearm, moving a little closer. He twists his arm around to gently grasp at your arm in turn. “I know that this isn’t how you imagined this going, but at least give it a chance. Talk to Phil, let him explain. Work on splitting the duties with Wil. Try it out. Please. For me.”

“And if it doesn’t work out?” Techno’s eyes bore into yours. The smell of coffee and spices surrounds you. The playlist has ended leaving only the sound of breathing, like the two of you are in your own little world. His skin is hot against yours where you touch.

“Then you finish out your apprenticeship and strike out on your own. Open up your own shop, run it however you want."

He lets out a breathy chuckle, thumb running softly across the skin of your arm. "Open up my own shop, eh? Not sure how that would work. Who'd want to have me for a boss?"

"I would. I'd follow you anywhere." You feel a blush rise up on your cheeks, but you refuse to break eye contact with the man in front of you. He looks surprised, but then his face melts in to a gentle expression.

Very gently, he sweeps a strand of hair off of your forehead. "How is it that you always know exactly what to say?"

His hand moves down to cup your face, thumb running back and forth over your cheekbone. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, then back up to his eyes. Your heart flutters, then starts beating overtime.

CRASH!

Startled, you whirl around to see Ranboo in the doorway to the staff room, an overturned box of metal tumblers on the floor next to him.

"I uh. Sorry," he stutters, face absolutely burning red, "I needed- I just- Almond milk!"

The poor boy practically races over to the shelf and grabs a case of almond milk before practically running back out again, door slamming shut behind him.

You turn back towards Techno, but the moment has already been lost. He's turned to face the counter again, stirring something in one of the pots on the stovetop. The back of his neck is pink.

"I… guess I'll head out then," you say to break the silence. Techno barely spares you a glance as he says a stiff goodbye. The silence surrounding the two of you as you finish getting ready to go is stifling.

As you walk out of the shop into the late afternoon sun, you ponder what just happened. What was that? Was Techno actually going to kiss you? Would you even have wanted him to?

With a jolt, you realize that you would have. You absolutely would have.

Several things suddenly click into place for you. The excitement whenever the two of you worked together. The ache in your chest when you don't see him for a while. The… kinda weird thoughts you've started having about him.

Oh god, you were in love with Techno.

~o0O0o~

Now that the realization had been had, it was basically all you could think about for the next three days while you were off work. It consumed basically your every thought.

You received a single text from Techno during that time, on the first day of your time off. It read "Talked to Phil. You were right. I'm meeting Wilbur on Wednesday. Thanks" and the high of getting it carried you through the rest of the day.

Heading in to your shift on Thursday, your stomach is filled with butterflies. You haven't seen or heard from Techno since that text message three days ago, and you were very excited to be seeing him again. Maybe you could even discuss what had happened in the staff room that day…

Arriving outside "Crow's Roost", you note that once again Techno had beat you there, light shining out onto the pavement from the windows of the shop. You open the door eagerly, greeting dying on your tongue as you spot Techno… chatting with a tall, curly-haired stanger wearing a beanie.

"Morning Techno," you call out, "who's this?"

Both men look at you as Techno replies, smiling very slightly at you, "This is Wilbur, Phil's son. He'll be hanging around the shop for a few days, getting the feel for how things work around here."

You smile, stepping forward with your hand extended to shake as you introduce yourself. Wilbur's grip is firm as he shakes your hand. His eyes look you up and down, appraising. "It's very nice to meet you finally, I've heard a lot about you from my father."

"All good things, I hope," you joke in return, smiling up at him.

"Very much so," he replies. You realize that you're still holding onto his hand, and drop it as though you've been burned.

"Well," you say, "I should go down and get ready to start. Anything we need from downstairs, Techno?"

"Nah, not today," he replies, eyes focused on his hands as he fiddles with a portafilter. He's no longer smiling, you note.

You quickly head down and get ready, starting your opening routine. As you begin pouring the premeasured drip coffee beans into the grinder, Wilbur comes up beside you. "What are you working on?" he asks.

"Oh, I'm starting on the drip coffee. There's four different roasts to get through, and we only have two brewers, so I like to start the first couple before I put out the pastries for the day."

"Oh, that makes sense."

Wilbur continues to ask you questions as your shift continues–"What's your favourite pastry that we sell?", "Why are the teas organized this way?", "How long have you worked here?", "When is the busiest time of day?"-- and before you know it, your shift is over, and you're handing off your station to Niki. With a jolt, you realize that you've barely said a word to Techno the entire day.

"I'm sorry for pretty much ignoring you today Techno. Wilbur sure has a lot of questions, huh?"

Techno smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "That's okay. It seems like you were handling it pretty well."

You giggle slightly as the two of you lapse into silence. You begin putting on your coat and boots, as Techno settles at the desk with a pen and a stack of what looks like invoices.

You take a deep breath. Now or never.

"Hey, Techno?" you begin, nervously. He hums in response, eyes still trained on his paperwork. "I was, um, hoping we could talk about what happened the other day. You know. With the two of us."

His eyes flick up to meet yours. The tension in the room is so thick, you swear you can feel it suffocating you.

Techno opens his mouth to reply, but before he can say anything, Tommy bursts into the staff room in dramatic fashion.

"BLADE! I FUCKED UP!!"

Techno sighs deeply, rubbing his temples. "What did you do this time, Tommy?"

"Well you see, I, being the massive, big brained man that I am, noticed that the left steaming wand wasn't working so well. So I, being so generous and kind-hearted, decided I would take the cover off and, well, you see, now it, uh… won't go back on? So I can't use it? Please don't tell Phil."

Techno sighed again, even more deeply than before, burying his face in his hands for a moment before looking up. "Bro, how did you even manage…. Nevermind, I don't wanna know. Head back up, I'll be there in a sec."

Tommy nods, tossing a "You're the biggest man ever, Techno!" over his shoulder.

Techno looks at you, something unreadable in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I really have to deal with this. We'll talk some other time, okay?"

You nod, disappointment curling in your chest. "Yeah, some other time, for sure."

He stands and heads for the door, pausing for a moment to lay a hand on your shoulder. He looks as though he's about to say something, when a crash sounds from upstairs. "I really have to go. But we'll talk soon, okay? I promise."

And then he's gone.

You nod to yourself firmly. You'll bring it up again next shift.

~o0O0o~

You do not, in fact, get to bring it up next shift. In fact, you don't get to bring it up for the next three shifts you and Techno work together. Wilbur spends his time following you around like a child would its mother, and he asks just as many questions. You do your best to answer them all politely and thoroughly, even if you are getting a little annoyed that he won't give you a single moment alone with Techno.

~o0O0o~

"What's this thing do?"

“That’s a heat sealer for the tea bags. Since we make each loose tea bag to order, we need some way of holding them closed after we put the tea in there.”

~o0O0o~

“Why does one of the coffee grinders have that red sticker on it?”

“It’s so we don’t accidentally put the flavoured coffee in the wrong grinder. The oil that we use to flavour the coffee would affect the flavour of any unflavoured roast, so to avoid cross-contamination, we grind all the flavoured coffee in the red sticker grinder, and the other roasts in the other one!”

~o0O0o~

"Hey Techno, do you have a minute? We still need to talk about– Oh, Wilbur, no! Don't touch that! Sorry Techno, I'll be right back…"

~o0O0o~

“What’s your favourite drink on the menu?”

“Hmmm… depends on the day, but right now I’m really loving the hot chocolate! You can never go wrong with a London Fog as well. If I’m going to have coffee, it’ll be a Cafe Dulce.”

~o0O0o~

“How does the nitro cold-brew dispenser work?”

“If you look underneath, there’s two tanks; one is full of cold brew, and the other is full of compressed nitrogen gas. When you pull down the handle on the dispenser, it combines the correct amount of both as it pours. That’s why we only sell it up to a 16oz; anything larger would be too much nitrogen in the body at once, could make you sick."

~o0O0o~

"Hey Wilbur, have you seen Techno around?"

"Not for a while, he left about an hour ago. Why, did you need him for something?"

"...Nah, don't worry about it. Here, how about I show you where we keep the extra merchandise for restock."

~o0O0o~

“Why don’t you drink coffee? I mean… look where you’re working!”

“Yeah, it just tends to make me really jittery, and I never really grew to appreciate the taste. Besides, we have so many tea options! It’s what works for me.”

~o0O0o~

“When will we get the gelato in?”

“Not for a while, I’m afraid. You just missed it. We typically stock it from May until September.”

~o0O0o~

"Hey Techno, I was hoping we could talk- oh. Hey Wilbur."

"Hello! So, I was wondering…"

~o0O0o~

“I don’t think Techno likes me very much,” Wilbur announces suddenly one day, about a week and a half after he first started observing around the shop. He'd spent most of that time trailing around after you like a little duckling, keeping up an almost ceaseless stream of questions, and other idle chatter while you worked.

You had taught him how to use the till and package pastries, and he had taken to interacting with customers with an easy charm, bantering with you or Tommy during lulls, much to the amusement of many of your regulars.

The two of you were currently sitting at one of the tables, waiting to open up the shop to the public. You had made drinks for yourself and Wilbur, Techno making himself scarce as soon as his tasks were done. He'd been doing that a lot recently, you'd noticed. You were trying not to overthink things, he was probably just busy doing stuff for Phil, but you couldn't help but get the feeling that he was avoiding you for some reason.

"What makes you say that?" you asked.

"He's constantly avoiding me, and he's pretty much always glaring at me from the sidelines. It's weird, because when I first met him, he seemed a little awkward and closed off, but like he was genuinely trying to get to know me," Wilbur sighed, "I dunno if I did something to piss him off or what, but I'm really not sure this is going to work out if we can't even communicate with each other."

You frown and take a sip of your drink, lost in thought. "I wouldn't worry too much about it yet. Techno's not a particularly social guy– it took him six months of working together regularly for him to warm up to me! Just keep at it, he'll come around."

Wilbur looks uncertain still. "If you say so."

"Do you want me to try and talk with him?" you offer.

Wilbur shrugs noncommittally, and the topic is dropped. But the interaction stays in the back of your mind for the rest of your shift.

~o0O0o~

You wave good-bye to Wilbur with a tired smile at the end of your shift. It had been a busy one, that was for sure. He waves back and blows you an exaggerated kiss, a new little habit of his from the past couple days, before letting himself out the emergency door into the fading light of the evening. You continue down to the staff room.

Head in the clouds, lost deep in thought, you begin going through the motions of getting ready to head home slowly, as your mind continues to race.

You look up from your thoughts as the door to the office opens. There stands Techno, in all his slightly dishevelled glory, looking a bit like a deer in headlights at the sight of you.

"Techno," you say, a little dumbly. He nods stiffly in return. An awkward silence falls over the two of you. You pick at your boot laces, gathering courage to speak.

"You've been avoiding me." You say, cutting straight to the point. Techno avoids your eyes, moving over to one of the filing cabinets and starting to rummage about. He intends to continue ignoring you, you realize. Something ugly rears up in your chest.

"Okay, no," you say, standing up and crossing your arms, "we aren't doing this. You promised me we'd talk, but I've barely seen you all week! What's going on?"

Techno mumbles something you couldn't hear, eyes still downcast.

"I'm gonna need you to speak up and look at me."

He groans in frustration, throwing his head back. "I said that maybe if you hadn't been so busy flirting with the new guy, you might have seen a little more of me." He, in turn, crosses his arms over his chest, chin raised defiantly in your direction.

That response catches you off guard. "I-what?"

Techno levels you with a glare that screams 'are you stupid'. "Oh come on now. The two of you have been attached at the hip all week! You seriously can't be that oblivious– even I noticed something going on there!"

"Techno…" you say slowly, "I'm not interested in Wilbur."

Any fight that may have been in Techno's posture abruptly drains out of him. "You don't have to lie to spare my feelings. I've seen the two of you together all week; you complement each other well. He's handsome, smart, witty, charismatic. The two of you are well matched. Why wouldn't you be interested in him?"

"Because I'm in love with you!!!"

Both you and Techno freeze at your exclamation, but for different reasons. He appears to be processing what you had just blurted out, while you were just in shock that you'd said it at all.

"Hold on, what?" he says.

"You heard me the first time," you mumble. Now it was your turn to turn your gaze to the floor, refusing to look at him. You wrap your arms more securely around yourself, now more of a comforting self-hug than the defensive crossing of your arms from earlier. Because of this, you don't notice him approach you until you feel his hand on your chin, raising up your head to face him.

"I think there's been a bit of a missed connection here someplace," he says, looking you dead in the eyes, "So, you're not interested in Wilbur at all?"

You shake your head as best you can in his hold, your throat too dry to speak.

"And," he pauses for a moment, before continuing, almost hesitantly, "you… love me?"

You nod your head, still unable to speak. Your heart was racing inside your chest. Was this finally it?

Techno continued on, still hesitant and a little unsure. "And. What would you say if," he pauses and takes a deep breath, as though gathering his courage before continuing, "I asked if I could kiss you?"

Swallowing thickly, trying to find your voice, you manage to get out in almost a whisper, "I would say yes."

You close your eyes in anticipation, which means that you felt more so than heard Techno's gentle exhale of a laugh before his lips covered yours.

It was a very soft kiss. His lips were slightly chapped against yours, and you sound your arms around his neck to press closer. His hands, in turn, fell to your waist in a gentle hold.

You're uncertain how long the two of you stand there, trading gentle kisses, but when you finally pull away, your lips are tingling slightly, and they feel like they might be swollen.

"So," Techno begins, "that happened." You can't help but giggle. Even after everything, he's still the same old Techno.

"At least we didn't get interrupted this time," you joke. He smiles, just the slightest ghost of a thing, and brings a hand up to cup your cheek.

Techno licks his lips, as though nervous. "So. Would you like to get dinner sometime? With me?"

You lean your cheek further into his hand. "Yeah, I'd really like that," you smile up at him. You feel his body relax instantly at your words, which makes you giggle again. His grin widens into a proper, rare smile, and it takes your breath away, just a little bit.

"Did you really think I was going to say no?" you ask him through breathless little giggles, and he blushes lightly and looks away. "Techno! I just spent God knows how long kissing you! I literally confessed my love for you! And you still thought I'd turn you down?"

"I mean, when you put it that way, it does sound a little silly…"

You laugh again, and move to lean your forehead against his shoulder, arms locking around his waist in an embrace. He, in turn, rests his cheek on top of your head, squeezing you a little tighter.

You lose a little bit more time, standing with him like that, before you remember where exactly you are, and how easy it would be for this moment to turn awkward if your boss were to come in. Reluctantly, you begin to pull away.

"I should be getting home," you say to Techno, "but when would you like to do dinner?" Swallowing your pride and ignoring the insecure part of your brain that's screaming at you not to seem desperate, you hopefully add "I'm free tonight?"

Techno blesses you with another of his smiles. "Yeah, that works for me. I've got some stuff to finish up here, but I can meet you around six?"

The two of you iron out a few more details as you finish getting your things together to head for home. Techno assures you that the restaurant he's planning on is fantastic, and that you're going to love it. You decide that he'll pick you up from your house and drive the two of you there.

"Awesome, I'll text you my address!" You lean up on your tiptoes to kiss him one last time. This quickly turns into two, then three, more kisses, each one deeper than the last, until you're slightly breathless, leaning up against Techno's chest.

"I should get going," you say, making absolutely no move to seperate yourself from him.

"That would require you letting me go," he says, amused, raising an eyebrow when you put up at him. Though, he rewards you with one last peck, and you finally began to untangle yourself from him, satisfied.

"I'll see you tonight? you confirm one final time.

"Yeah, see you then darlin'."

You begin to grin uncontrollably as the per name leaves his mouth, happiness welling up inside you. It feels as though you're walking on air as you head out of the building with a smile still permanently affixed to your face and a bounce to your step.

You had a date to get ready for.

Fun fact! I spent a little over three years working in the coffee industry, and it shows!!

Another fun fact! Nobody drinks iced coffee in this fic. I just liked the alliteration...

If you saw verb tense mistakes, no you didn't ♥️